When I was doing field work for my degree in Central Kalimantan, I lived in a village with the Dayak. But, it was not a real Dayak village as it had been constructed as part of the government transmigration project. There were no Rumah Lamin (the traditional Dayak long houses) and there was no one with stretched out ear lobes and huge earrings so it just didn't authenthic.
When I was in Samarinda I was told it took eight to ten hours by boat to get to Tanjung Isuy or Pepas Eheng if you wanted to see the real thing. The roads were so bad it was difficult to find a driver willing to take you by car, especially in the rainy season. In the end my friend Dragon organized a trip to Pampang, only an hour's drive from Samarinda. We had heard that every Sunday the real Dayak Kenyah in Pampang performed traditional dances in their long house. Sounds good! I wouldn't have to go quite so far as I thought.
At 12:30 p.m. we arrived in Pampang. The roads were still muddy tracks but otherwise the village was quite modern. Most of the houses had walls and some had garages for cars or motorcycles. The Rumah Lamin was right in the centre of the village, with plenty of parking space around it. There were Dayak carvings in yellow and black in walls of the long house and this one was now used as a meeting place and market for souvenirs.
When I began to climb the steps up to the house a little girl said, "Hello, Tante37\ Please come in. The dance performance begins at 2 p.m." When I sat down a dozen or so children aged between five and ten soon surrounded me to find out where I was from. They had narrow eyes with clear white skin and red cheeks from the sun all of them wore traditional Dayak costumes complete sequins and beads. They were so cute! We had fun chatting, telling riddles and singing together (they were Christian so we knew all the same songs from Sunday School). They laughed so hard when I did something they found funny and asked to be picked up because they said I was cuddly like a pillow. These kids were so friendly!
An hour later the ticket kiosk opened. It was IDR15,000 per person, but if you had a camera you had to pay an extra IDR25,000. On top of that, photos with one of the long eared Dayaks would cost you IDR25,000 for three shots. It was not cheap! In return we were given a beaded bracelet with "Pampang" written on it. I tried to keep my thoughts positive: this money would go towards improving the Dayak tourism industry.
The dance began at 2:15 p.m. There were six dances, most of which were performed by children. The music was played by three old men on guitar and kolintang38 Before a dance began the two MCs would explain the meanings of the dances which were about war, love, harvest and even birds. The girl dancers held a hornbill feather (the hornbill is a symbol of the Dayak), and the boys carried a Mandau (the traditional Dayak machete) and a shield. The children I had been talking to earlier were not part of the dance but were there in their traditional costumes.
As soon as the dance was over the children from earlier ran over to me again. They were suddenly aggressive, asking, "Where's the money, Tante? You were taking photos earlier, Tante, that's not free. Pay up!" I felt like I was being attacked and finally responded, "Later, OK? I want to take some other pictures first." I was accompanying a friend who was trying to take pictures of the old Dayak ladies with the long, stretched out ears. The only ones left with ears like this were old now, and there were only the women left, it seemed. Their legs and arms were completely covered in blue traditional tattoos.
These old women turned out to be pretty surprising too. "You've taken more than three pictures! You have to pay again!" Because the photos were to be published I started bargaining with them. Even when they were half smiling they never stopped asking for money! To get them to relax for the camera I had no choice but to slip them some cash. And while this was going on the children were watching me; angry expressions, waiting for their turn to get paid too.
When we were done with the old women, it was time to face the children stalking us. "It's 25,000 Rupiah for three pictures but Tante took photos with lots of children, so we want more!" I offered a IDR50,000 note but it was refused! I was totally shocked. I had used a pocket camera to take three casual pictures of us all together in the long house. Now I was cast in the role of the stingy one, trying to get them to pose for more stock photos for my friend. Just like the old women, nothing else came out of their mouths except demands for money I had never imagined a five year old could be so aggressive! It was not just me though. Anyone there who took a picture of them even on their cell phone was mercilessly attacked with demands for cash. Some were completely surrounded and had to fight their way out.
I handed over another IDR50,000 note and one of the girls (this was the leader of the gang) screamed at me, "How can you think a hundred thousand is enough?!" This was madness! Whatever happened to the sweet kids I had been joking with before? In the end I got out a few more notes that added up to another IDR50,000, told them I had no more money and was going home now. This was still not enough for them and the protests continued. Eventually the girl moodily snatched the money out of my hand without so much as a "thank you". The other kids immediately surrounded her and were screaming for their share of it. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing! When I thanked them and said my goodbyes not a single one turned to reply because they were still too busy fighting each other over a few rupiah. They were too young to be so focused on money and so mean!
I don't know where this behaviour came from. I think it's reasonable for us to have to pay to take pictures of locals, especially when it's a rare and exotic tribe. There's nothing unusual about this in tourism nowadays, it happens in other parts of Indonesia and I have seen it in both Egypt and Nepal. But, the price here was high and having to deal with kids like that was really uncomfortable!.
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