Termanu was recognised by the Dutch East India Company as the foremost domain on Roti in 1662. ^[4] It might already have been in the process of growth at the time of its recognition. Dutch recognition and the location of a small Dutch post on the coast of Termanu contributed to a period of expansion. In the 18th century, this expansion was curtailed and territory that Termanu appears to have subjugated was granted separation and returned to other rulers. Thus Termanu was initially advanced and then eventually disadvantaged by its relations with the Company. Because of these continuing relations, the archival records of developments in Termanu are particularly revealing.

Termanu possesses an elaborate oral history that is concerned primarily with the establishment and development of the domain. In the telling of the history of the domain, the first important narrative recounts a division of the domain between its ruler and a particular clan lord who holds the title of dae langak, Head of the Earth. In the narrative, the ancestor of what is to become the ruling clan of Termanu arrives in the domain and challenges the resident ancestor of the Head of Earth’s clan to a series of contests, which he wins by cunning and deception. This narrative establishes a separation between political power on the one hand and ritual authority on the other. The narrative is an example of a common Austronesian political charter myth whereby an ‘outsider’ is installed ‘inside’ and thus granted the right of rule (Fox 1995; Sahlins 1985). According to this narrative,

the first person to settle in the territory (then known as Pada) was Pada Lalais. One day the ancestor of what was to become the ruling line of Termanu, Ma Bulan, wandered through Pada and met Pada Lalais. They immediately began to argue over who was first to arrive in Pada and agreed to test each other’s claims by planting trees to see whose tree would flourish. Pada Lalais planted a quick-growing damar tree while Ma Bulan planted a slow-growing bubuni tree. After the trees were planted, however, Ma Bulan went back and switched the trees in each hole. When the two inspected the trees, the tree in Ma Bulan’s hole was alive and well and he thereby claimed to be the winner. Pada Lalais would not accept this outcome so they agreed to have another contest.

This time, they vied with each other over who could call the sea. Ma Bulan knew the sea, having come from over the seas, whereas Pada Lalais had an autochthonous knowledge of the earth. Ma Bulan therefore told Pada Lalais to call the sea as the tide was about to go out. He called but the tide continued to recede. Ma Bulan then waited until the tide was about to come in; he then called the sea and it came to him. Thus Ma Bulan was able to claim victory in the second contest.

The two then agreed to have a third contest by examining each others’s houses to see whose showed signs of being older. Ma Bulan immediately rethatched his house with eucalyptus leaves and then lit a fire that quickly turned the eucalyptus thatch soot-black. When the two ancestors came to inspect each other’s houses, Pada Lalais’ lontar leaf thatch was not as black as the eucalyptus thatch of Ma Bulan’s house. Ma Bulan once more claimed victory.

In the end, Ma Bulan, who had demonstrated the deceptive cleverness required of a ruler, offered the following solution to divide their functions. Thus he made the following proposal: ‘It would be good if I became Lord and you became Head of the Earth for succeeding generations. When men have filled this domain, I will rule them and you may levy a tribute on the domain and take a portion of lontar syrup from each person who lives in the domain. And for all times, since you were the first to settle in this domain, this domain will be given the name Pada, in keeping with your name, Pada Lalais, and your grandchildren and descendants.

The narrative of this ancestral division of land and polity ends, however, with an additional narrative observation based on a folk etymological link between the personal name of a later ruler and the name of the domain. This is recounted as follows:

In the time of Lord Tolamanu Amalo, a descendant of Ma Bulan, the company asked Tolamanu: ‘What is the name of your domain?’ So Tolamanu said: ‘It is called Tolamanu in recognition of my name.’ So it was called Termanu but the name Pada did not disappear. The domain is called by both names, Pada and Termanu, to the present time.

The chief elements of this narrative consist of: 1) the arrival of the stranger from the sea; 2) a set of contests between the stranger and the indigenous inhabitant; 3) the eventual installation of the stranger as ruler; and 4) a division of the realm in which the indigenous inhabitants retain rights over the earth. The displacement that occurs in this narrative is regarded as irreversible. Ritual authority over the land or earth is vested in a particular clan within the domain, whose priority of residence is acknowledged but whose precedence is superseded by that of the ruler.

Termanu is not alone in possessing a narrative account of similar opposition between an outside ruler and indigenous ancestral group. Each domain has its own narrative recounting the origins of this opposition—which, in some cases, amounts to implacable enmity—between ruler and ‘head of the earth’. In some domains, such as Thie, this basic structure is more complicated: the function of ‘head of the earth’ is vested in one clan but various rights to harvest produce are disbursed among several clans associated with the ‘head of the earth’ (see Fox 1980b: 120-5).

Several critical points are important to note here. Dual structures occur at different levels in different societies in eastern Indonesia. On Roti, the primary diarchy in relation to the earth occurs at the foundation of the nusak. The nusak thus locates the rituals of the earth and sets a boundary to their functioning. No rituals of the earth extend beyond the boundaries of the nusak. All nusak have this primary diarchy, which may well be the most critical feature of a nusak.

A nusak as a structural entity is expandable. In line with the oral narratives, a Manek can incorporate the ingu/leo of another manek within his realm and bring the individual rituals of those incorporated ingu/leo into the cycle of his own rituals.

The significance of these features of Rotinese society should become apparent in a comparative analysis of other societies in eastern Indonesia.