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The journey to the Mentawai was the most strenuous trip I have ever attempted in my life. Frankly, if I ever top it, I will be deeply surprised. Not only was it mentally shattering but physically arduous. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into when Joey mentioned the trip months ago, but nothing I could’ve done would’ve adequately prepared me for the trip. Plans had actually been on and off for 4 months while Joey and I both waited on potential clients to come through. However, 2 days before I was to head home for my 23rd b-day, I found out Indonesia was happening 100%. This put me in complete crunch mode as I had to finish the Relient K documentary and a Tiger Army Webisode. I ended up taking 3 hard-drives to Oklahoma just to finish the work load before I left for Indonesia.
The day came(August 7th) and I took my pack, camera, and computer. Only taking the bare essentials. Meds, a couple pairs of clothes, socks, and underwear. My trip started as I left two of the most important women in my life crying. I was going to an island halfway around the world to stay with tribes, having absolutely no communication, and basically no information about exactly what we’d be doing. After a 1 hour trip to Tulsa, I boarded my 3 hour flight to LAX. I changed from the domestic airport to the international airport. During the 5 hour layover I spent most of the time talking to an ER Nurse named Justice, who was moving back to the Philippines to go to medical school. She wants to be a surgeon. Right before I boarded my 15 hour flight to Manilla, the airline informed us we would not be stopping in Guam, but flying straight to our destination. It would put us in Manilla at 3am, instead of 6am. This presented a big problem because my friend Apy was picking me up from the airport at 6am. I had no way of calling her so I sent a quick Facebook message hoping she would get it. I landed at 3am, went outside the airport, and sat on a railing just hoping she got my message. Well 6:30 rolled around and I finally see Apy. She told me she didn’t get my message. My flight to Jakarta didn’t leave til 10pm that night so I spent the whole day in Manilla hanging with Apy, Derrel, & Benjo(2 of her awesome friends). We went straight to get breakfast where they made me try local food. I had chicken and steak at 7am. Although it was good, it was way too early for steak and chicken. After breakfast we visited some historical spots, market places, and the slums. The slums were just visually depressing. Sheds stacked on sheds, stacked on sheds. We walked around there for a bit and they warned me not to take my phone nor my wallet. Supposedly people will just straight up snatch em. We had lunch, relaxed for a while, and then we all went and got Thai massages. It was exactly what I needed. It was $3 for a hour! Derrel told me at the parlor the girls were fighting over who would massage the American. It is insane how much I stood out there. Not only because I am a foreigner but my piercings and tattoos were so interesting to them. They kept grabbing my arm and touching my tattoos. After the massage we went to the mall of Asia to eat some seafood. I started to feel sick after dinner. Pretty sure it was due to exhaustion. I hadn’t slept but 3 or 4 hours since I left Oklahoma. They took me to the airport for my 8pm flight and we said our goodbyes. I had such an awesome day there. I miss Apy, Derrel, & Benjo. As I waited for my flight, I bounced in and out of sleep.
133 votesvote as favoriteDerrel and Benjo
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150 votesvote as favorite$3 an hour. It was so good!
I took a 3 hour flight from Manilla to Jakarta where I was met by Willem and his friend Wilma. Quick backstory. Will lived in Indonesia for 6 months with a group of other students. He speaks Baja Indonesian fluently. Very cool. So at 12pm, we drove an hour to her house where Joey was already asleep. I was afraid for my life on the drive to Wilma’s house. Her friend drove so fast, and of course there are no traffic laws. We sped past everyone, weaving in and out of lanes. I already had anxiety from all the flights, and the insane driving multiplied it. After a couple hours of sleep we had to be up and make the hour drive back to the airport by taxi. From Jakarta we took a one hour flight to Padang where we met our guides Ricky and Charles. We drove an hour before we had breakfast, where we discussed our plans for Siberut. We thought we were staying the night in Padang before we went to Siberut but last minute we found out we were taking a ferry that night. We went to Ricky’s uncle’s to consolidate our gear. Take the bare minimum. Joey and Will came from a workshop in Australia so they had extra gear that wasn’t necessary to bring. We all went to the island with a couple pairs of clothes, but the main bulk was obviously our gear. We left his house to hit up a bank. The economy is so bad here, the banks maximum accounts were between $1000-$1500 American. While waiting at one bank, Will and I fell asleep in the lobby. We still hadn’t had a break in traveling. After the bank we went to the local market for food and supplies for Siberut. We bought rice, noodles, cheese, some condensed milk, sugar, and a lot of tea. We also got beads and tobacco to give as gifts to the tribe’s people. The entire time we were there someone stared at us. It was worse than Manilla. I have never felt so uneasy. Will would talk with everyone and they would get this surprised look on their faces. Everyone stared at his gauged ears and touched our tattoos.
We made it to the docks that night to catch the ferry. I got very nauseous just by looking at the boat. It’s a big wooden clunker that was packed with at least 200 people. Mainly locals with a few surfers, and tourists. The crowd of 200 people completely packed this ship shoulder to shoulder. There was absolutely no space left. To even walk down the main corridor you’d have to be like Indiana Jones and plan each step so you wouldn’t set off a booby trap. One wrong step and you are stepping on a strangers face, hand, leg, or stomach. If that wasn’t bad enough, it got even worse. Extreme heat and the smell of rich diesel gasoline burning through-out the entire boat. I told Joey I felt sick and I rush to the bow of the boat so I could hopefully find a spot and breathe fresh air. The back of the boat had comfortable room for 15, but there was probably 50 or more people back there. Most of the tourists and surfers attained space in the back, along with 8 muslims straight from Pakistan. They were having discussion with a minister who I later found out lives about 10 minutes from me in California. We were both very shocked. I stood in the middle of the crowd waiting for someone to relinquish their seat or make space on the bench. A muslim ,named Nasiem, saw me fanning myself so he moved over creating a spot for me. All of them smiled when you looked at them, and they gave everyone food and offered them places on their prayer mats to sit down. I found myself in between two of the muslims while one of them fanned me. Much relief, air! The boat ride was a 10 hour over night cruise. About 30 minutes into the slow churning of the boat, a woman pushed me aside to start throwing up over the side. Now anyone that knows me well knows I hate throw up more than ANYTHING. At that moment, I knew I was in for one hell of a night. After an hour the “throw-up fest” opened up in full force. At one point I counted 15 people throwing up over the sides, 6 of them being the Pakistanis including Nasiem. They were way too close to me. I felt sicker and sicker each time someone threw up. I started talking with Nasiem, between times he was throwing up, and I explained my fear of throw up and he started giving me advice to conquer this. The muslim on the other side grabbed my hands and started rubbing heavily on the space between my thumb and index finger. He said it would help, then right after, he started puking. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. About 3 hours into the boat ride he told me to sleep and he put my head on his leg. At first I was very hesitant, but I remembered learning that friends are very “touchy” where they come from. Friends hold hands, lean their heads on each other, and wrap their arms around each other. It represents friendship and closeness to their brothers, not anything homosexual. So I laid my head on his lap and I fell asleep for 2 hours. I was woken by loud cracks of thunder and bright flashes of lightening. The ocean acted as a mirror reflecting mother natures fury. Lighting up the entire ocean, highlighting each raindrop. It was beautiful. I put on my rain jacket and got pelted by rain for about an hour while I tried to sleep. Joey woke me to film some stuff while everyone was sleeping, so after filming for only about 20 minutes, I returned to the back where some girl had stolen my seat. I was so pissed! She had been sleeping next to her boyfriend(they were cuddling so I assumed) and now she had her own spot. She didn’t have the decency to move when she saw me sit back down so I weaseled my way back next to Nasiem and fell asleep for about 30 more minutes before I was woken up at 5am to the Muslims praying and singing very very loudly. I decided I wouldn’t be sleeping anymore. After Nasiem got finished praying, I talked with him the til we docked at 7am. We talked about religion, work, family, and love. He was so interesting. I will never forget meeting 8 of the nicest strangers in the world, all muslims from Pakistan, who any other day I would’ve felt uncomfortable just by being around them. Big kick in the teeth and I felt awful for it. As we approached Siberut it was the most beautiful sunrise I have seen to this day. The ocean, dolphins, and a rainbow. The color scheme was just mind blowing. It sounds like a stereotypical of a dream, but I am actually humbled that God could create something so surreal, for those few minutes, perfection had taken completion in my eyes. We had arrived, and Siberut had welcomed us to the island!
Iphone footage showing some traveling to Madobag.
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We took a short 15 minute drive to get to our pong pong boats. They are long wooden canoes with small engines. We packed up all of our gear and started our 4 hour ride up the river. Several times along the way it started raining on us. How absolutely refreshing and beautiful it was. We finally made it to Madobag where we met with our other guide Gejeng and cook Peno. He lives there in the government village with his wife. When we arrived we were greeted with hugs and a lot of odd stairs. We took off our wet shoes and socks and all just laid down for a while. We ate some rice and noodles as more and more people started showing up to the uma(Mentawai name for house) we were at. There were probably 20 people on the little porch just watching us. After sleeping a couple hours I was woken from counting sheep around 3am. My stomach had enough. I am sure it was the travel and change of food. I rushed out into the jungle with a bucket of water in the pitch black of night and had pretty terrible bowel movements. Not only was it pitch black and I was in the forest alone/scared, but it was raining. I think that was one of the worst experiences on the whole trip. It was an awful night! I got around 6 hours of sleep which was the most I’d had in 5 days. We met with our Sikere Shaman porters Aman Lala Ogo, Bajak Tarason, and Bajak Toikoik. Intimidation is the first thing that comes to mind when you are staring one of these guys down. Their choreographed full body tattoos, bold jewelry, cut muscles, knives hanging from their pen(loincloth), and if that isn’t enough for you then maybe their sharpened teeth will put the cherry on top. If I was in the woods and came across a Sikere, I’d be sprinting in the other direction before you could blink. We were giants compared in stature but I wouldn’t let that influence your judgement. That morning Joey took photos as I worked on my Letus Extreme. It was the first day and my 35mm converter malfunctioned. Letus + moisture + rainforest = Failure. After Joey took photos we packed our things and headed for our first location. The Atabai! The clan was a grueling 4 hour hike away. Three quarters of the trek involved climbing a mountain. Many variables made this the most difficult hike I’ve ever done. Narrow paths with big drop offs, tree snakes, the heat, heavy packs, and did I mention it was very steep? Bare in mind the rain forest is devilishly slick, making trekking that much more punishing. What amazed me was the architecture of the path. All the paths were either carved rock, carved roots, and strewn out wooden logs. As we engaged in the difficult hike, I couldn’t help but respect how long it must’ve taken to engineer such paths. Most of the wet rocks had bowl like cuts to create steps. Paths running next to trees had been dug deep revealing the roots, to which acted as individual stairs. Then hundreds and thousands of small logs laid across paths, to make it easier to trek through the ankle deep mud. Most logs had machete cut outs every few inches to make walking on them more manageable. The Shaman made us walking sticks after observing our failing attempts to walk naturally. We seriously looked like we were walking across a decrepit wooden bridge crossing a lake of lava. Trudging along, arms out to our sides for balance, looking down at one shoe going in front of the other, tongue sticking out concentrating on every shifting ounce of weight. A walking stick was an absolute necessity. I can’t tell you how many times I would’ve fallen without it.) The Sikere walk around barefoot and can make it over the mountain and back in 3 hours. It took us 4 hours just to make it one way. We had so much gear it took 15 locals from Madobag to get it all there. A quarter way through the trek, it looked like Will, Joey, and I had just gotten out of the shower. Water ran off of us like a rain cloud was cruising over our heads. Not a single Mentawai or Sikere had a drop of sweat on them. We had barely made it up the mountain before we could barely catch our breath. Some of the Mentawai women made fun of us and asked if we needed to be carried over the mountain! We all laughed pretty hard. Its funny, I thought I was in good shape but that mountain made a fool of my confidence. After 4 hours of near falls, many rain showers, losing liters of sweat, thick narrow paths, and staring at the ground, we finally made it to Atabai.
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136 votesvote as favoriteI was eating some very sour fruit he picked from a tree.
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138 votesvote as favoriteSome of the paths they’ve made. (JoeyL Photo)
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In the Atabai , we stayed with Ta Jia Jia. He was the most intimidating of the Sikere in my opinion. His uma was in an stunning location, and it housed his wife and 5 beautiful kids. As tradition goes, the first night guests arrive, they slaughter a pig and we feast! Joey and I were so tired, we actually slept through the squealing pig for about 15 minutes. Will later told us the Shaman made fun of us for sleeping through it. Later I was woken up by Will saying “Hey Joey, they are about to kill the pig, do you want to watch it?” Joey replied, “No, but Cale should film it.” Pretty sure Joey doesn’t remember saying that, but it’s definitely funny now. I got up and watched the fascinating ritual. Ta Jia Jia and the other Shaman sat in a circle and sang as Ta Jia Jia rubbed a chicken on all the Shaman and the planks of the house. They do this to ward of evil spirit. Then they cut the pigs throat and catch all the blood in a bucket they will later boil the pig in. Yes, they boil the pig in its own blood! FTW! It is Taboo for blood to touch the ground, so they make sure it completely bleeds out in a bowl. After the pig is killed, Shaman sing non stop until the pig is cleaned, cooked, and served. This takes around an hour. That night I woke up several times to hear the Shaman singing and talking. I don’t know how they have so much energy. They next morning we left early to go monkey hunting. The Shaman loaded up with their bows, poison tipped arrows, and machetes. I came to later find out, Shaman always stay up the entire night before a hunt, singing and praying, asking for help on the hunt. Half way to our destination Toikoik sung to the spirits to bless the hunt. Soon after we came to a clearing where a big hill was cut out and completely encased by the mountain. In the middle the hill was a hut that most Shaman stay in the night of a hunt. The location is important because it is in the clearing, surrounded completely by a tree line. They stay there overnight and listen for animal sounds, so they know which way they need to trek. It started pouring, just as we arrived. I couldn’t help but stand out in the rain and close my eyes. A perfect unearthly feeling that will never leave my thoughts. We sat in the hut for a couple hours just listening, talking, resting. For once it finally looked like the Shaman were getting tired. Lala fell asleep and drooled all over himself. Joey snapped some good shots of it! Along the way back to Ta Jia Jia’s uma we actually heard some monkey’s calling loudly. Lala said they were too far to track so we just continued on to the uma. At this point we had been constantly doing something since we got there and still lacked any basic hours of sleep. Will and I were quite delirious. That night we named one of Ta Jia Jia’s pigs Mohawk. Then we started debating who was tougher out of Babe or Wilber (Charlottes Web). We debated for about 15 minutes before Will said, “Man Babe would take a s*** in Charlotte’s Web!” I don’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. We both realized our minds had completely strayed off somewhere away from our bodies. That night we went to bed early and got some essential rest.
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The next morning I woke up at around 4:30am. It had rained the majority of the night. The most refreshing thing of each day was walking down to the stream at sunrise and cleaning up. Washing my clothes, taking a river bath, and washing my face supplied me with more joy than I would’ve imagined before the trip. After breakfast we went to another uma where the women were going fishing. We followed them for a while as they caught little minos. I filmed and Joey took photos. He would get neck deep in the water with his Phase One. Crazy guy that Joey. After filming I walked back to the river bed where Ta Jia Jia and Aman Mita Punin were smoking and talking. I pulled out my Iphone and watched their eyes light up. They were so confused by this magical gadgetry I had unveiled. Mita Punin’s face was just priceless. One thing I found particularly interesting is, besides the reflection in the water, these people have never seen themselves. I mean we were only the 3rd white people he’s seen in his life! They are always wanting you to film them and take their photo. Then they want to see them immediately. Last night I turned on my laptop to transfer footage and the black screensaver with swirling lights came on. The entire uma surrounded it and just stared for about 15 minutes. I then thought I would introduced them to PhotoBooth, which they stared at diligently, transfixed on themselves like I had put a spell on them. At first, no-one waved, no-one smiled, and no-one spoke. They just stared at themselves. I tried to grasp this concept, but I couldn’t. I didn’t look in a mirror the entire time on the island, and that itself was weird. Imagine living your entire life and only knowing what you look like from a water reflection. There is no concept of looks and stereotypes. There is no ugly, hot, cute, skanky, preppy, gothic, nerd etc…..no hollywood, no NYC, no celebrities, and no illusion of what America has ordained the standard for the world. There’s absolutely nothing for them to compare themselves to. I find that absolutely beautiful.
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The next night was my worst sleep yet. There are two small mats, less than an inch thick, that Joey, Will, and I take turns sleeping on. Typically one wouldn’t even consider this mat as something to even make a difference, but on the island it was a luxury! That day we decided to kill two chickens for lunch. Ta Jia Jia’s daughter Pet Pet would leave at sunrise(4:30-5am) and not come back til she caught the chicken. We ate chicken three times on the island, and each time it took her about 6 hours to find and catch them in the jungle! One chicken was for us, and one for the Sikere. When the Sikere killed theirs, they involved us in their ritual. They sat Will, Joey, and I down and rubbed the chicken on us. As Ta Jia Jia was rubbing the chicken on us he had a sinister grin as he spoke to the spirits. All the Shaman started laughing loudly. He thought it would be funny to say something like, “Please keep the spirits from this uma and the people here, but if you must, please take your wrath out on the white people.” He said he was kidding and continued to wish well on us. After lunch we found out we would be witnessing a ceremony called “Ulia Sibau” which is when a young Mentawai Sikere becomes a Shaman! The number of Sikere’s becoming Shaman is diminishing rapidly, so we felt extremely fortunate to witness this event in person. That night, while waiting for the ceremony to start, I passed out twice. After they ate, they pulled out some drums and started the “Turug Dance.” The father Bilijo (pronounced exactly like Billy Joe) and son would dance around each other and stomp their feet as the drummers played them on. Joey took photos as I filmed. They would dance for about 10-15 minutes, then break for a little while. They repeat this over and over. After 4 dances, we went back to Ta Jia Jia’s uma. As we slept, the stomping of the floorboards and beat of the drum echoed throughout the jungle the entire night.
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150 votesvote as favoriteThe next day we trekked to a fallen Sago tree so Joey could photography 6 of the Shaman. I tried my best to film, but these conditions are the absolute worst. My hvx has somehow began to malfunction. I would have to put my battery in and out anywhere between 50-80 times. It would automatically record on start-up and none of the camera buttons would function. After popping the battery in and out several times, I could finally film. After that monotonous process, imagine trying to get smooth shots while walking in thick mud, stepping over brush, logs, and plants. An absolute nightmare trying to achieve my shooting style. After we left the Sago tree, we had just made it back to the uma before the heavens opened up and it rained harder than any day before. Thankfully we made it back because we forgot to take our rain covers to the tree. It could’ve been a disaster. The rain and cool breeze had put us into complete relaxation, and then the Uma started shaking violently. As the uma shook for a solid 10 seconds, we all ran outside to look at the trees. We didn’t have to worry about buildings falling on us, but the massive trees in the rainforest. We later found out that earthquake was registered as a 6.7. That first earthquake acted as a portal to what was coming. We had multiple earthquakes every hour, that continued for the remainder of the trip. I went to the national earthquake registry and counted over 60 earthquakes we had while staying in Indonesia. Several were registered over 6.0. I imagined since the Mentawai lived in the Ring Of Fire, they wouldn’t worry too much about earthquakes. It wasn’t until the Shaman said they were scared that made me nervous. They hadn’t had this many frequent earthquakes in years. Something beautiful in my eyes happened every time an earthquake struck. Ta Jia Jia would run through the uma to check on his family. That is the first thing he did every single time. The tribes are very family oriented. It was very evident to see the love they have for each other. Being around them really made me miss my friends and family even more. A couple times I wanted nothing more than to tell them how much I love them. When the earthquakes came they would grab their family and everyone would go outside, most going to the banana grove. This event goes back to an old Mentawai story.
“A long time ago there was a young boy, who was the most skilled builder the tribes had ever seen. He built the most spectacular uma’s in a mind-blowing 24 hours. Other tribe members became jealous and plotted the murder of this young talent. A family bribed him to build an uma in trade for several livestock and durian trees. Upon building the uma, they had him dig the stilt holes extra deep. While digging one they dropped a beam on his head killing him. They then covered him up and planted the beam over him making it “the perfect crime.” They had all but gotten away with it, until the feast held at the uma’s completion. They feast hosted several tribal people including the victim’s sister. While in the uma, she was visited by her brothers spirit who warned her to leave the uma immediately and go to the banana groves. They all mocked her for acting weird as she gathered her food and went to the grove. As soon as she made it to the grove, the earth began to shake knocking the uma to the ground and killing everyone inside. So now, every time there’s an earthquake, they go to the banana grove in respect and remembrance of the atrocity and justice served centuries ago.”
-As told by Aman Lala Ogo
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For the 2nd half of the story, read “Mentawai Part 2″
It will be up in a day or two along with other various content from the trip.
Also be sure and check Joey’s page. He will be posting stuff from the trip soon and I promise you will want to see the photos.
