Headhunting in Kansas 3

At dusk we reached the shore of Lake Tempe, and the small Bugis kingdom capital, buoyant bungalows on stilts. The last Buginese princess had lived in a cottage, now run by her nephew as the Apada Hotel. ‘For its princely cockroaches.’ Read one of its later reviews. Robyn and I were shown to our room by a handsome mature woman in sarong and blouse, her hair tied neatly in a bun.
“The feast is at seven.” She said, bowing as she withdrew. And at seven we descended into a splendid courtyard, a royal refectory of dishes raised up on their lit burners. Flush-cheeked young women with red lipstick and long jet-black hair, in sarongs and sashes woven with silver and gold, and pearl necklaces, presented us with flowers, as we sit cross-legged on the silk floor cushions. They served us soup and goat meat and rice and vegetables, and fried crab in banana leaves and fresh grilled lake fish, and bir bintang. Bugi board in a Bugi night.
Our descent next morning, down stairs floating into the lake, was rescued by a hardwood boat, with red, yellow, blue and white triangular string patterns on its curved prow. We passed under towering Cambodian palms, their own trunks submerged under the Tempe surface, past Chinese fishing nets, elaborately woven carpets draped over railings, reed houses on pilings with thatched roofs out of which protruded yellow flags high and crooked, flocks of flying foxes, and an old mosque suspended over the water, with a disintegrating cupola and short minaret. We visited silkworm factories, still marveling at how the Chinese first thought of using these ugly grubs to make such beautiful fabric, and we visited the looms, where the hand-weaving tradition continued. A Bugi family entertained us for the rest of the day, with stories of their recent history, and a remote epic. The Sureq Galigo is a Buganese legend, written between the 13th and 15th centuries, in a language that can now be read by no more than a hundred people. Its 300,000 verse lines outnumber the Mahabharata Indian heroic poem, commonly regarded as the longest in the world. It may never have been read in its entirety, so fragmented are the manuscripts that have survived the ravages of insects and humidity and decay and Islamist fundamentalism.

   ‘Once upon a time Sawerigading, the crown prince of Luwuq, visited his
    grandparent’s grave in the Sunrise Kingdom. There he was told of an
    extremely beautiful girl in the forbidden area of the royal palace, who
    dressed up recklessly and spent all of her time bathing and talking to
    birds. When Sawerigading finally saw her, he felt his soul flew off him.
    But the girl he fell in love with turned out to be his own twin, We
    Tenriabeng.
    Knowing he could not marry his own sister, Sawerigading took off from
    Luwuq, sublimating his desire by conquering the oceans of the world.
    News came from the North about I We Cudaiq, a Chinese princess
    prettier than We Tenriabeng herself. On the vast tapestry of waves to
    China, Sawerigading’s fleet faced real human enemies, all conquered
    in seven large-scale oceanic battles. As morning broke over the
    Chinese Empire, the China Empress saw I La Welenreng,
    Sawerigading’s main battleship, trying to reach the shore.
    Sawerigading had to find his way through a labyrinth to find I we              
    Cudaiq, wrapped up like a giant butterfly cocoon with seven layers of
    Gods’ silk. Her heart opened up neither by physical prowess nor
    material gifts, but by words: vast arrays of prose and poems composed
    by Sawerigading’s mighty imagination, inspired by his wondrous
    journeys. But, it didn’t work out and Sawerigading eventually left
    China, back slicing the waves, guarding and supporting his
    successors.’

Or so the story goes, for six thousand pages. According to Bugis tradition, humanity is comprised of five distinctive genders– female makkunrai, male oroane, feminine male calabai, masculine female calalai, and finally, the bissu, a transvestite priest, possessor of spiritual knowledge. On the gigantic Bugi schooner of life, the love that Sawerigading had been actually seeking, may have been a Bugi man.  




“Fear grows in darkness; if you think there's a bogeyman around,  
 turn on the light.”
                                                                            Dorothy Thompson