SIKEREI shaman of the mentawai islands
Words and imagery by Tommy Williams.
My level of excitement leading up to the adventure were met by equal feelings of nervousness and anxiety. I really had no idea, or expectation of what I was getting myself into. Significant language barriers and poor internet connection meant any prior details about the trip were hazy. To go in by myself, I later found out, was a rarity. I entered the jungle with no agenda other than to candidly capture what was in front of me and to surrender myself to a different way of life. I felt a thrilling sense of vulnerability that can only come from leaving a zone of comfort.
The area I journeyed to was known to the indigenous people as Dorogot. Located an hour pong pong ride up the river from Muntei village, followed by an hour long trek through shin deep mud and dense forestry. I would be staying Toikot’s Uma (Family clan house), the Sikerei (pronounced sik-air-rei) father of my trekking guide, Liki. Intrigue, fascination and the want to be far removed from civilisation drew me to the adventure. I wanted to learn from and observe a life completely in opposite to mine. A life not completely dominated by consumerism and greed, but one of spiritual connection to the land and its people.
Being one of the last remaining tribes in the world, the Sikerei shaman of the Mentawai practise a culture that has remained virtually unchanged by western influence for thousands of years. Located deep and scattered throughout the thriving rainforests of Pulau Siberut, they follow a system of Animistic belief, known as Arat Sabulungan. The Sikerei are the backbone of Mentawai culture and sustainability, with their far reaching influence still significant throughout the larger, more civilised villages within the Island chain. Through their intimate connection to the jungle and it’s abundant natural resources, these ‘Medicine Men’, as they are affectionally known, possess the knowledge and ability to hunt, gather, grow, heal, preserve and maintain. Skills that have been passed down through generations, and will hopefully continue on for many generations more.
Bernardo, a 27 year old young man who was born and raised close to Dorogot, left his well paying job with a nearby surf resort to move back deep into the jungle. His mission was to continue tradition within his people, to become Sikerei and to devote his life to teaching, healing and protecting those around him. I really admired Bernado. When I first met him, I was overwhelmed by his watchful demeanour. He was softly spoken, the spear and machete he carried with him slightly unnerving. He had a welcoming smile, and a warm kindness that soon became apparent within all of them. Bernado expected to be accepted as Sikerei by next year. Before then he must prove to the elders that he is worthy, by building an Uma for his family, growing a pig, learning the art of natural medicine and to be inked in traditional tattoos. Bernado was an exceptional hunter, strong and athletic with incredible balance. One afternoon I walked barefoot through the jungle to Bernardo’s yet to be finished Uma. He was tying down sheets of Sago leaf with vines that would form the ceiling to his new home. From 5 metres up in the air, he leapt down, landing in perfect balance on a log no wider than your drink bottle. He smiled at me, before running up a coconut tree and gifting me a kelapa (coconut) that was very well received considering the searing heat and inescapable humidity.
One thing that stood out to me during my time in Dorogot, other than the incredible amount of tobacco that was inhaled, was how content, happy and healthy the Sikerei were. They wanted no more than what they had, with every resource available being equally shared amongst each other and myself. A generosity and desire to help, with no expectation of reward or thank you. Most of the day was spent sitting in the Uma out of the hot sun, chain smoking cigarettes, drinking sweet tea and telling tales of the past. They laughed, sang and hummed from sun up to sun down, as I tried my very best to decipher the dialect whilst observing how they interacted with each other.
What was apparent was the respect the younger members of the family had for the elders. Toikot and Kooki were 65 and (age unknown, one guessed 100) respectively. Both of whom had outlived their wives and most of their friends. Kooki had outlived two of his own children. Whilst they were both frail and small in stature, they had no problem performing day to day tasks such as feeding the pigs and chickens, and tying together logs of Sago. Kooki, with the help of his nephew Andi, cut down a small tree, peeling off the bark before hammering it out in the river and drying it in the hot sun. This would make up a loin cloth, the traditional clothing of the Sikerei. Kooki had the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. When I looked at him, and even now when I look at the portraits I captured of him, I see a man that has lived a fulfilling life. A man whose generosity and acts of kindness had made those around him richer. A man that has lived a truly happy life, with eyes that could tell a thousand stories. If only his voice box still worked, and my Mentawaian was fluent.
I was lucky enough to witness a small ceremony between Toikot, Kooki and 2 younger shaman named Aman Lari (27) and Aman Tiru (25). Both young Sikerei had trekked for 4 hours to meet with the older men, who welcomed them into their home through singing, smoking, and the sharing of a chicken that was sacrificed as part of the ritual. The reason for their visit was to gather knowledge from Toikot and to perform a spiritual awakening that would help them farm pigs. Toikot’s wisdom was on full display when he showed me how the Sikerei utilise a specific concoction of plants from the region to produce a poison used for hunting. Without a word, he left the Uma and wandered the jungle for over an hour, sourcing the ingredients before grating, cutting, crushing and squeezing the juices and minerals out of a variety of plants, roots and bark. With careful hands so as to not make contact with his skin, Toikot painted the dark and syrupy mixture over the tips of his arrows, the big ones for the pigs and deer, and the small ones for the monkeys, before drying them over the fire. The portrait I captured of him doing this is my favourite photo from my time in Dorogot.
It would be cliche and untrue to say that my three days with the Sikerei were life changing. I feel like I only scratched the surface of learning and understanding their culture and traditions. However, there were a few timely reminders and takeaways from the experience that will stick with me forever. Both the Sikerei and broader Mentawaian communities do not have access to the Western world’s exorbitant luxuries, yet they seem completely happy and content with what they do have. In other words, our grass is no greener than theirs. Their wealth comes in the form of mental and physical health, unbreakable family connections and generations of tradition, as opposed to the figures in one’s bank account. Time with the Sakaliou family reminded me that sharing genuinely is caring. There was no hierarchy in Dorogot, no egos to clash against each other. I left with a deep admiration for the Sikerei people and their simple, beautiful and peaceful way of living off the land that they call home.
Please feel free to browse through a selection of additional images from the adventure.
