3

Background and exegesis of the origin narratives of Termanu

The domain of Termanu as a political and social creation

Termanu is one of 18 small previously self-ruling polities (nusak) that make up the island of Rote. The establishment of Termanu, as revealed in its oral histories, begins with the ancestor Pada Lalais. Another ancestor, Ma Bulan, arrives in Termanu from across the seas and confronts Pada Lalais. The two contest the ownership of the land. Ma Bulan triumphs by stealth and trickery and gains the right to rule; Ma Bulan becomes the Manek or ‘Male Lord’ and his descendants give rise to the ruling clan, while Pada Lalais is given ritual authority over the Earth and thus becomes the Dae Langak or ‘Head of the Earth’. To this day, Termanu is referred to by its population as Pada. Its dialect is described as dede’a Pada (‘Pada dialect’).

Subsequent accounts, all told in the dialect of Pada (and not in ritual language), constitute a long and complicated dynastic history that sets out a division in the ruling clan between a ‘Male Lord’ (Manek) and a complementary ‘Female Lord’ (Fetor) and the successive affiliations of some clans along with the defeat of others to form a political union of ‘Nine Clan Lords’ (Mane Sio) attached to the Lord of Termanu. The arrival of the Dutch East India Company and its involvement in local politics are recounted in the oral histories and are occasionally seen as decisive, but Termanu’s complicated dynastic history is concerned more with the politics of local succession. The whole of this dynastic history is based on a long royal genealogy of many generations that provides the scaffolding for its narration.

Termanu is mentioned in Dutch East India Company records in 1661. In 1662, the Company signed the first of several contracts with Termanu’s ruler. Termanu’s location on the northern coast of the island gave it a favoured position. The Dutch built a small fortification at a harbour area known as Kota Leleuk and, by 1677, had stationed armed personnel there to act on its behalf. In that same year, the Company took the teenage son of the ruler of Termanu to Kupang on Timor to learn Malay, the language used by the Dutch in all their dealings on the island. While other territories on Rote resisted the Dutch, Termanu remained a loyal ally.

From its favoured position, Termanu initially expanded its territory and came to dominate central Rote. However, in the later part of the eighteenth century, it was forced to relinquish authority over territory on the southern coast as the Company recognised more local rulers, eventually dividing the island into 18 separate domains. In the nineteenth century, Termanu was the first domain to cooperate with the Dutch in transferring population to settle around Kupang to provide a buffer against incursions by the local Timorese. As a result, relative to other domains, Termanu held extensive territory with a lower density of population. This was particularly the case in relation to the domain of Thie to its south and the domain of Dengka to its west. With wide grasslands for herds of water buffalo and key sources of water for irrigating rice, Termanu’s ruling dynasty had greater wealth than the rulers in other domains. This dynasty was able to assert political authority on the island.

As a domain, Termanu’s internal political structure consisted of a large ruling clan, Masa-Huk, divided among many ranked lineages and surmounted by Fola-Teik, the lineage of Termanu’s ruler, the Manek or ‘Male Lord’. Kota Deak, a clan that originated from an early division of the ruling clan, provided the Fetor or ‘Female Lord’. At the court of the Manek were the ‘Nine Lords’ (Mane Sio) of clans recognised by and affiliated with the royal lineage. These named clans were: Kiu-Kanak, Ulu-Anak, Sui, Dou-Danga, Ingu-Beuk, Nggofa-Laik, Ingu-Nau, Ingu-Fao and Meno, the clan founded by Pada Lalais, whose ritual title, Dae Langak or ‘Head of the Earth’, remained of ritual importance.

In Termanu, there was a differentiation between nobles—mane-ana (‘descendants of the manek’) and feto-ana (descendants of the fetor’)—and commoners (la’uk). Precedence was a considerable concern among high-ranking lineages, especially those of the ruling clan, Masa-Huk, whose apex was dominated by the status line Fola-Teik. This idealised structure, as recounted and legitimised in the oral histories, masked a diversity of more complex relations among the lineages within the domain’s principal clans—a social complexity that must be seen in perspective. Termanu had a population of fewer than 6,000 people at the time of my first fieldwork in 1965–66.

Of narrators and their knowledge of origins

An exegesis of the origin narratives of Termanu must begin with a discussion of the narrators who provided these recitations. Within the domain, each narrator was considered a ‘person of knowledge’ (hataholi malelak). This designation is one that is accorded sparingly to elders who are regarded as possessing a knowledge of the past—particularly the distant past—and thus possess a knowledge of origins: the ‘trunk and root’ (hu ma oka) of Rotenese traditions. Some but not all of these knowledgeable elders have the ability and fluency to recite long narratives. These men—and they are mostly men—are recognised as ‘chanters’ or ‘poets’ (manahelo).

The key narrator of Termanu’s origin narratives was Stefanus Adulanu, known as ‘Old Meno’ (Meno Tua), who was the ‘Head of the Earth’ (Dae Langak) in Termanu. His position made him the principal custodian of Termanu’s traditions.

On my first field trip to Rote in 1965, I was taken by the Ruler (Manek) of Termanu, who at the time held the government position as Camat or District Head of Rote, to the royal residence at Feapopi and introduced to an assembled group of elders from Termanu. He presented me as his proposed ‘historian’ to gather the history of the domain. I was called on, in my still faltering Indonesian, to display something of what I had already gathered about the domain from Dutch sources. I had a list of the clans of Termanu from various sources and I went through this list asking whether there was a representative of each clan at the gathering. When I called the name of clan Meno, ‘Old Meno’ stood up and we met for the first time. Meno’s first ancestor was Pada Lalais, the ancestral figure central to the founding of the domain. As I was quickly made aware, the true name of the domain used by its members is Pada.

Eventually, when my wife and I had settled in Ufa Len in Termanu, Old Meno, who lived in the nearby village of Ola Lain, took me under his wing and made a concerted effort to teach me what he felt I needed to know about Pada. He focused on teaching me ritual language as a means of understanding Pada’s traditions. Later Old Meno told me that he was initially reluctant to reveal too much, but because I had come with a bulky Uher tape recorder—dubbed the ‘voice catcher’ (penangkap suara, in Indonesian)—he realised that I had the capacity to pass on his recitations to future generations.

Most of the crucial origin narratives I recorded were gathered during the first intensive year of fieldwork. These narratives were considered foundational to my learning and critical to the understanding I needed to advance my comprehension of Rotenese culture. As a result, there were other elders and knowledgeable individuals who were keen to offer me recitations. All such recitations came at a time when I was struggling to grasp the basics of the Rotenese language and, more dauntingly, the pervasive particularities of Rotenese ritual language. Old Meno always avoided a direct answer. He would invariably circle around the point he was trying to convey, and he would often reply to a question of mine with a return question, which if I understood it, might hint at the answer to my question. It took me months to adapt to his manner of guiding me towards understanding.

At the time when Old Meno had begun tutoring me, another figure, Peu Malesi, came forward to recite. He was probably in his forties but not yet socially regarded as a person of knowledge. Yet, he was exceptionally knowledgeable, versatile and fluent. He provided me with my first full recitation (Recitation 1, in Chapter 4), which I asked a local schoolteacher, Jon Pello, to transcribe. I then took the transcription to Old Meno for his help with translation and exegesis. My possession of this key narrative prompted Old Meno to overcome his hesitancy about revealing more of his own knowledge.

Early in my time at Ufa Len, there were others who came forward, unexpectedly, to recite for my tape recorder. The most unusual of these chanters was Lisabeth Adulilo, who came looking for me during a feast that was being held nearby. She was direct, forthcoming and fluent. She recited Recitation 2 in this collection (Chapter 4), listened back to her words and left. I expected her to come again to Ufa Len, but she never reappeared. She was the only woman ever to provide me with a long recitation and I was unable to learn more about her.

Another chanter who appeared only once was Ayub Amalo, a member of the royal lineage. He provided the initial basis for Recitations 5 and 6 (Chapter 4). As I did with Recitation 1, I took Ayub Amalo’s Recitation 5 to Old Meno and he elaborated on it considerably without changing any of the names that Amalo had used. Recitation 6 was shorter and I did not require similar assistance from Old Meno. As with Lisabeth Adulanu, I hoped for another visit from Ayub Amalo but he never returned to Ufa Len.

Another chanter of note was Eli Pellondou, known as Seu Ba’i, whom I first met at Old Meno’s house in Ola Lain. Seu Ba’i spent time with Old Meno seemingly learning from him. I considered that he was doing an informal apprenticeship as he would often be with Meno when I came for one of my regular visits. Seu Ba’i was from the same clan, Dou Danga, as Peu Malesi, but from a different branch of this clan located in Namodale. He listened to the recording I had made of Lizabeth Adulilo’s recitation, and this prompted him to offer his own short recitation, which was intended as a comment and correction. This has become Recitation 3.¹

To add to my accumulation of origin narratives, Old Meno provided me with two more: Recitations 8 and 9. As a result, all but one of the origin narratives of Termanu in this collection were gathered during my first visit to Rote in 1965–66, and virtually all of them were provided by or filtered through Old Meno. The one exception is Recitation 4 by the poet Esau Pono.

In 1965–66, I hardly knew of Esau Pono, who lived in the village of Hala. By the time of my second visit, in 1972–73, he had begun to gain a reputation as a preacher rather than as a traditional chanter, and I turned to him as my speaker for a memorial tutus ceremony for Old Meno that I sponsored with Old Meno’ son. Our friendship began then and continued when I visited Rote to make documentaries of Rotenese life with the filmmaker Tim Asch in 1977 and again in 1978. We invited Pak Pono, as he was known, to Canberra to help with the film.

Over the years, our friendship grew and I watched Pak Pono’s stature in the community grow until he came to be regarded as a true person of knowledge and the leading chanter of Termanu. Only in 2007 did Pak Pono insist on reciting his version of Termanu’s origin narrative. Importantly, his recitation shows a continuity in the transmission of the knowledge of origins that stretches back over 40 years. His recitation shows its specific continuity with recitations by Peu Malesi and Seu Ba’i, which Pak Pono would have heard on various occasions.

The collection of oral narratives of Termanu in this volume was not gathered systematically with a clear idea of its assemblage, but rather in the confusion of initial fieldwork with all the challenges associated with this discovery process. The main task of this fieldwork was to understand the social realities of Rotenese life. Old Meno was more concerned to carry out the initial instructions of the Manek of Termanu that I be informed of the history of the domain. This required the accumulation of a diverse assortment of narratives in ordinary language and of the genealogies of the clans and lineages that provided the scaffolding for these oral histories. Old Meno was also intent on my attending court sessions to understand how deliberations were conducted according to Rotenese customary law (hadat).

At the time, most ritual-language recordings that I made were of funeral chants because these are less restricted and constitute the bulk of the Rotenese religious liturgy. Had Peu Malesi not provided his initial origin chant, I suspect Meno would have delayed his revelation of these most serious of oral narratives until I was further along in my understanding. In the end, however, the collection took shape principally under the guidance of Old Meno.

Of names and their significance

Names are an essential feature of the origin narratives. These names apply to persons, places and a variety of objects and creatures. Personal names follow a genealogical pattern that links children with their father. Personal names can also merge with placenames to define an identity by locality. The problem is, however, that names often vary in different recitations even when these recitations recount similar events. No topic causes more disputes among chanters on Rote than the names that occur in the origin narratives.

The names in the collection of origin narratives from Termanu are a prime example of what can cause disputes. Although there may be some general agreement, points of difference are notable. In the first four recitations, the son or sons of the Sun and Moon (Ledo Holo and Bula Kai) are Mandeti Ledo and Patola Bulan. However, Recitation 5 gives different names for these sons, Ndu Bulan and Pala Ledo, while Recitation 4 introduces another set of sons, Kaibake Ledo and Lakimola Bulan, who, though hunters, become farmers of the land. Similarly, most of the recitations identify the Lords of Sea and Ocean as Danga Lena Liun and Mane Tua Sain. However, Recitation 3 gives these names as Danga Lena Liun and Mone Ni Sain and Recitation 5 gives Tou Danga Liun and Mane Tua Sain.

There is a minor variation in the name of the daughter of the Sun and Moon, who marries into the Sea: she is Fuda Kea Ledo and Tau Senge Bulan, as in Recitation 1; Kudu Kea Ledo and Tau Senge Bulan, as in Recitations 2 and 3; or Kudu Kea Ledo and Matau Senge Bulan, as in Recitation 4. There are greater differences in the names of the spouse whom she divorces—either Nggolo Fae Batu and Teke Laba Dae, as in Recitation 1, or Bose Latu and Do Lona, as in Recitation 2—and with the names of the spouse whom she marries: Danga Lena Liun and Mane Tua Sain, as in Recitation 1; Holo-Te Liun and Bala-Mae Sain, as in Recitations 2 and 3; or Tio Holo Te and Dusu Bala Mae, as in Recitation 3. Similarly, there are differences in the names of the hunting dogs of the sons of the Sun and Moon and those of the Lords of the Sea.

Several recitations recount attempts at building the first house. These recitations cite a plethora of different builders and crafts creatures who become engaged in this effort. Each recitation names a distinct set of builders. In Recitation 1, the first builder is Makandolu Le (‘River Crafter’) and Malela Dano (‘Lake Designer’), who constructs the house on one side that then slants to the other. Then others are called. This group consists of Didi Bulan (‘Moon Spinner’) and Bolau Ledo (‘Sun Spider’), Solu Nggelo (‘Chop Apart’) and Silu Mola (‘Hack Open’), and Kili-Kili Ki (‘Sharpen Left’) and Fona-Fona Kona (‘Draw Right’)—all of whom perform the tasks their names imply. Recitation 2 does not mention all these names but concentrates on the role of Didi Bulan (‘Moon Spinner’) and Bolau Ledo (‘Sun Spider’), who mark out the layout of the house beams with their spittle. There is no mention of building the house in Recitations 3 and 4 while in Recitation 5, Makandolu Sain (‘Sea Crafter’) and Malela Liun (‘Ocean Designer’) are called on to forge and sharpen Bani Asa and Doke Tei, the axe and machete.²

The initial hunting area where Mandeti Ledo and Patola Bulan first meet Danga Lena Liun and Mane Tua Sain is also given different names. In Recitation 1, the riverbed of Ango-Kala and the forest of Nggae-Kala are first mentioned but, as the hunt continues, the area is referred to as Ledu Ama Medik’s wood and Sadu Ama Kiuk’s forest. In Recitation 2, this hunting area is referred to as the woods of Kai Tio and the forest of Lolo Batu; in Recitation 4, the area is the same as in Recitation 1—the Ango-Kala River and Nggae-Kala Forest. The name of the pig and civet that the hunters catch can be considered a name or a descriptor: Nggeo Alu refers to a ‘black-shouldered’ pig and Tena Lolo refers to a ‘sleek-bodied’ civet. In all recitations, these animals are identified with the realm of the Sea.

Names proliferate in other recitations, particularly in the succession of placenames that form the topogeny in Recitation 7. Recitation 7 links personal names and placenames. Lexical elements in the two names point to an intimate connection. Thus, for example, the woman named Fi Bau and Seda Kola comes from Bau Peda Dele and Kola Sifi Ndai, while the woman Fiti Nggoli and Lole Bako comes from Nggoli Kai Tio and Bako Bau Dale, and the woman Pinga Peto and Lu’a Lela comes from Peto Lesi-Ama and Lela Bala-Fia. All these are sites in the domain of Termanu.

Names can signal major differences in the general cast of these origin narratives, which concern their revelations about the first marriage between the Sun and Moon and the Lords of the Sea and Ocean. While Recitations 1 and 4 assert that this first marriage is with Danga Lena Liun and Mane Tua Sain, Recitations 2 and 3 insist that this first marriage is with Holo Te Liun and Bala Mae Sain. All four of these recitations accord the Heavens superiority by making the Heavens the wife-giver to the Sea. The transference of goods establishes the first bridewealth. By contrast, Recitation 5 reverses this relationship. Ledo Holo and Bula Kai marries Lada Saik and Lole Liuk (‘Sea Tastiness and Ocean Goodness’) and she brings with her all the implements of cultural production as bridal goods. This is a radical alternative view portraying the Sea as wife-giver and thus as socially superior.

On narrative differences

The directionality of marriage—who gives a woman and who receives a woman as a wife—is crucial to defining social position in Rotenese society: wife-givers are superior to wife-takers because they provide the flow of life that extends from them. This flow of life creates a chain of relations that is supposed to continue for generations. It involves lifegiving rituals and regular recompense for the bestowal of life. For this reason, Recitation 5 offers a radical perspective on relations between the Heavens and the Sea and is fundamentally different from the perspective in Recitations 1, 2, 3 and 4 as well as the perspective implicit in the other recitations. (It is also at odds with the perspective in the chief recitations of the domain of Thie.)³ Recitation 5 does, however, provide a similar view of the great transference of wealth from the Sea to the Heavens and of subsequent efforts at constructing the first house.

Apart from Recitation 5, the other recitations present a generally coherent perspective on the often turbulent relations between the Heavens and the Sea. One of the most significant of these is Recitation 8, which narrates the origin of the beautiful weaving and dyeing that causes a breach in these relations.

In Recitation 8, the daughters of the Sun and Moon, Henge Ne Ledo (‘Cloth Binder of the Sun’) and Feo Futu Bulan (‘Thread Winder of the Moon’) give the loom and shuttle to Lui Liuk (‘Sea Cow of the Ocean’) and Kea Saik (‘Turtle of the Sea’). Both weave, tie and dye cloths with crocodile patterns and shark designs. At this time, both the women of the Heavens and the women of the Sea produce similar patterns, but this is not the case on Earth.

Recitation 8 relates that the man Lodo Bela and the boy Solu Lolo from the island of Ndao have become engaged to the woman Pua Kene and the girl No Lini in Loleh on Rote and have returned to Ndao to gather the bridewealth necessary to marry. In their absence, Pata Iuk (‘Figure Shark’) and Dula Foek (‘Pattern Crocodile’) come from the Sea and force themselves on Pua Kene and No Lini. In revenge, Lodo Bela and Solu Lolo kill Pata Iuk and Dula Foek as they are about to re-enter the Sea near the island of Ndao.

The woman Haba Ndao and the girl Lida Folo see the patterns produced by Figure Shark and Pattern Crocodile and hurry to buy a loom and shuttle from Kea Saik and Lui Liuk in the Sea. They bring the loom and shuttle back to Ndao and produce cloths that display the patterns of the shark and crocodile. The knowledge of weaving, dyeing and of the skill to produce beautiful, patterned cloth is transferred from Ndao to Rote. Although this knowledge has been gained, there exists a breach in relations and, as is recounted in Recitation 9, it is not possible to perform the proper origin celebrations.

As narratives, the recitations are implicitly or tangentially linked to one another, and it is necessary to look to earlier narratives to understand the full significance of later narratives. Thus, for example, as recounted in Recitations 2 and 3, the marriage with the Sea produces the offspring Tio Holu Te and Dusu Bala Lae. These creatures are identified with the blue-spotted emperor fish and bartail goatfish and are the fish that are sought in Recitation 9 by the woman Nggiti Seti and the girl Pedu Hange to perform the ritual that enlivens an origin celebration. The eventual re-establishment of harmonious relations between the Heavens and the Sea, as is recounted in Recitation 9, allows the woman Lole Holu and Lua Bafa to catch the tio and dusu fish that eluded her mother and thus perform the necessary ritual to hold an origin celebration. At this origin celebration, the textiles with shark and crocodile patterns are worn and displayed. As such, Recitation 9 ends with a restoration of harmony.

Of recitations and ritual purpose

Taken together, these narratives offer a fascinating account of the relations between the rulers of the Heavens and the rulers of the Sea. The various recitations present episodes in the development of these relations. It is likely that these narratives were part of a longer epic that has come down to the present in fragments. What has been transmitted over time relates to rituals for which these recitations were once performed.

Versions of Recitations 1 to 5 were once required as part of the rituals for the construction of a house—one of the most important of Rotenese rituals. Other versions of these same recitations may have also been performed as an accompaniment to the rituals for the payment of bridewealth and the celebration of marriage. Similarly, versions of Recitations 6 and 7 were once performed in relation to the planting of rice and millet, while Recitations 8 and 9 were likely to have been recounted when new weaving or dyeing was undertaken.

What has not been transmitted in Termanu are any of the recitations that once related to the celebration of annual origin ceremonies known as hus (or, in ritual language, as hu//sio: ‘celebrations of origin and of nine’).⁴ Only one invocation from the Hus Ina (‘The Great Mother Hus’) of the royal clan Masa-Huk of Termanu was told to me.

At this celebration, the ceremonial leader, the ‘Lord of Heat’ (Mane-Hanas), would wrap himself in an immensely long cloth (hahalik) and, dragging this cloth behind him, he would approach a large Java olive tree (nitas; Sterculia foetida) and, with a raised spear, call on the moon, saying:

Kona, bulan, kona	Descend, moon, descend
Kona, bulan, kona	Descend, moon, descend
Kona, bulan, kona	Descend, moon, descend
Kona musik nitas-a boboa kona	Descend to the right of the nitas tree
Muni meti ma-isi	Bring the abundance of the tide
Muni tua ma-oe	Bring the juice of the lontar palm
Muni bafi mana-bongi-siok	Bring the nine-farrowed sow
Muni manu tutu-natuk.	Bring the hundred pecking chickens.

The chorus, circling round the nitas tree, would renew and amplify his invocation. By the conventions of ritual language, the sun must be mentioned with the moon and the spear with the sword, even though the symbolic action was directed with a spear towards the moon. The chorus would respond by singing:

Sio bafi-la tola	The pigs of the Feast of Nine appear
Ma hu kapa-la dadi.	And buffalo of the Origin Celebration grow.
Besak-a ala soku lala bulan ten	Now they lift the spear of the moon
Ma ala ifa lala ledo tafa-na	And they cradle the sword of the sun
De lalo neu bulan	They call upon the moon
Ma langgou neu ledo, lae:	And they address the sun, saying:
Kona, mai	Come, descend
Fo muni dini oe manahaik	To bring sufficient moist dew
Ma a’u oe manano’uk	And ample dampening water
Fo tete dae bafak	To rain down upon the Earth
Ma totoli batu poi	And pour down upon the world
Ma fe tua ma-oe	And give the juice of the lontar palm
Ma tasi ma-isi	And the abundance of the sea
Ma kale duak	And two grains
Ma pule teluk	And three seeds
Fo kalen-na didiku	That the grain stalks might bend
Ma pulen-na loloso	And the seed shoots come forth
Fo ela ana-mak lamahena	To allow the orphans to hope
Ma falu-ina lakabani.	And the widows to trust.

These invocations directed to the moon were for rain, for the juice of the lontar, for the fruits of the sea, for an abundant harvest, for the fertility of animals and for the health and strength of humankind. In Termanu, unlike Thie, these origin celebrations ended in the nineteenth century. The narratives that accompanied them are no longer known.

---

1. 1 During 1965–66, my dealings with Seu Ba’i were limited. On a subsequent visit to Rote in 1973–74, I recorded a great deal more from Seu Ba’i and learned more from him. I was later introduced to others among his close relatives, all of whom were notable poets.

2. 2 How or whether the chant character Makandolu Sain (‘Sea Crafter’) and Malela Liun (‘Ocean Designer’) in Recitation 5 are related to Makandolu Le (‘River Crafter’) and Malela Dano (‘Lake Designer’) named in Recitation 1 remains uncertain.

3. 3 As a recorder and commentator on these oral narratives, I can offer no explanation simply because none was offered to me.

4. 4 The dyadic set hu//sio used to describe these ceremonies links the pair hu, meaning ‘origin’ or ‘trunk’, with the term sio for ‘nine’—a numeral associated with ‘fullness’ and ‘completion’. In Thie, these ceremonies are, in ritual language, designated by another dyadic set: holi//limba.