night in the shrine land at Diani
It was my first day and night in the shrine land at Diani, on the eastern part of the highland, where I had just landed by a public helicopter. I carried my two bags, the small and the large one to the visitors latter. There was a strange gaze of all the Diani residence (children and adults) as I approached near where they were. The hosts were cheering, dancing, and singing their inspirational songs. I was confused about what was happening until one of the guests who had received me translated it to me. The explanations were that it was a ritual that was taking place each year. The ceremony implies to welcome good wishes to their gods and also a way of praying to their gods for rain and heavy harvests.
There came the time for having supper, and it was a strange event as the festival went on. One young man instructs me to wash my hands with animal blood to fulfil their culture. While gazed, I quickly adapted the order and did as told. The food came, and I found that once again, it was everyday meet and stew mixed with blood. I spread my hands on the table, pushed the plate near, and took a traditional spoon. In front of the expectant group of individuals (children and adults) was me taking food for my first time as a strange. The group stared at me as I moved the spoon into my mouth. And my face somehow disputed due to the test of the food. The night was just around the corner, and before someone shows me where to put up for that night, I had some signs of stomach disorders.
I observed where the owners were heading to relieve themselves. I followed the same path. While in a hurry, I just found myself in the female toilet. Some of the residence there were Muslims, and some discovered my action as immoral and a significant offence to them. My guests were too polite to say something for what I had realized as a massive breach of cultural belief. There had been no other way to learn by observation in advance as the party happened indoors. After some time, I was quite able to communicate at all with all the villagers (though just a few of the group talked fluent English and the rest spoke Dutch).
The program was that by midmorning, I should be at the main shrines to finalize the ethnic and ritual festival. Finally, in the late morning, I was able to convince a young lady to have my cameras bag and lead the way. The road to the shrines had a lot of ups and downs. It was full of mountains, depressions, and wet soils. After three and a half hours of walking into the foothills, they informed us that we were about to reach the destination.
The lady I succeed to convince to carry my bag for me was dressed in a miniskirt with a maintop. To me, she was half-naked and that she was seductive. During this festival, the ladies and women are supposed to dress that way to soothe their gods. On reaching on the shrines, the elders were upfront to the altar with their cultural containers full of blood and meet. The festival leader instructs us to kneel and take our heads on the ground.
After that, there was a service to take a specific meal given by their top leader as a sacrament. Strangely I stepped up to take it and in a weak feeling to enjoy the festival and learn new cultural belief and practices. The shrines were producing some strange sounds like there was a group of musicians singing and dancing the ritual songs. Asking my special guests on the sounds, he explained to me that they believed that those were the sounds of the angels of their gods appreciating the gifts of the festival.
Besides, it was a sign that the gods were feeling nice and that they would respond quickly and positively. The dances and the movements by the women were so exciting and frightening at the same time. The women were completely naked, and this was a sign of soothing their male gods so that they can receive the offerings and gifts.
Later, a group of young men from the Dutch villagers near the hills came down bounding. The said, “We are going up to kill antelope!” I was horrified: I had just been reading Pauline’s overdue accounts of antelope intelligence and had spent hours my former mentor Lilly Bateson before I left New York discussing her plans for antelope research. “Stop killing antelope! They are so intelligent! They resemble human beings!” I called out.
Due to the Dutch culture, they paid no attention, and they went down bounding the precipitate path to the altar. Three hours, they were back, carrying a considerable greenery bundle. They announced cheerfully “We got two!” I was still horrified. While Galatians eat antelope, which is a fringe benefit; they kill the antelope for the skin, which t used as exchanged valuables and ornamentation. The young men unpacked their greenery package, to display a considerable antelope. I acknowledge to a moment of uncertainty at the sight of mammalian muzzled.
“Don not eat that thing! You should not eat this meat! They are not mammal meat! They look like human beings! Even the blood is warm and red like that of people as you can notice!” I called out. They paid no attention and went on cutting firewood to build up fire to heat the meat. Due to the slight language barrier, my argument was not clear to them. Antelopes might not be wild mammals, but they are in the wild animal’s category. I tried to insist. The villagers were not impressed, so I decided to reiterate the argument about red and warm blood.
“You see, I said earlier they can run as we do” I went ahead to give out a detailed explanation on the evolution of human beings and the history of mountains. They quite heard me politely. “You are old men and women, but I do not think if you knew the story of antelopes in the mountains. I tell you about the mountain at Sinai where an antelope came from to talk to people around Sinai mountain?”
When they noticed it was too much, they stopped building a fire. One of the festival elders shouted, “what do you imply young man, can they talk the same way we do?” Asked that question, I remembered about having a recorded tape with the sound of an antelope at Mt. Sinai talking to the villagers. I bounced back to where we had kept our bags to look for the tape. A few seconds later, I returned in triumph to the young men building a fire to heat the meat, who had gone back to their routine task.
One of the fire builders was holding a camera tape similar to mine which had the sounds of the talking antelope at Mt Sinai. “You can see this tape and that one! They can talk the way we talk! That is the reason why I say you should not eat them” At this time, I had their little interest. “We unaware that antelopes can talk like human beings! How did they talk with the villagers at Mt Sinai? What language do they use? How can they talk about the mountains?” I tried my best to explain how heard it took the researchers to get the tape and how they were able to understand the antelopes’ language. To my surprise, they did not heed my advice, and they continued heating the meat and later put it in large greenery hotplate.
Taking part in this festival demonstration, assimilated into relationship and vicinities networks, forced me into shrines to participate in the ritual festival. I felt a quite comfortable “insider” But of course, I was automatically not comfortable. Besides, I could not leave my own cultural beliefs and world though I successful entertained their culture. Interestingly, the isolation and abandonment during the festival enabled me to remain an outsider who knows all about what it is to be an insider.