December 22nd, 2008 
Sheila Simkin Odin left us off on the road at Bori and we started slip-sliding our way up a very muddy incline into the center of Bori. Sweating buckets in long pants, dark shirt and sarong, Jo-Jo led us to a place of honor next to a son of the deceased inside the newly erected viewing stands. His father was 90 years old and died 8 months ago. There were only about 12 other tourists and at least 200 locals, predominantly family.
The stands surrounded a big square and a parade of water buffalos was taking place while the elders tried to reach a concensus. Which buffalo will be donated to a church? Which ones to sacrifice and in what order? Decisions, decisions…all broadcast over a handheld microphone and speakers. Jo-Jo changed our viewing spots to the one directly under deceased Dad’s coffin, primo seating.
A loud quabble between eldest son of deceased and another village chief on how much buffalo meat his village was going to receive from the slaughter. This went on for a while with a big shouting match (not that we understood what they were saying). We just sat watching the buffalos standing patiently awaiting their fate…
Disagreement over, the festivities got underway. A group of men took the microphone, some liquor in a bamboo stick, and went around the square singing and splashing the soon to be sacrificed buffalos. Lots of laughter from the crowd, who knows why…
Hot and nervous in the viewing stands, I asked Jo-Jo exactly how many buffalo were going to be sacrified. When he replied “7,” I started feeling a little sick to my stomach. They were going to slash the throats of 7 buffalos in front of my eyes? Determined not to disgrace myself, throw up or faint before all these people including little kids, I gritted my teeth.
Next step? A conference to decide which buffalo should die first! They picked a big, light colored one, and tied one leg to a post in the center…View image… This was to make sure he didn’t trample people after his throat was slashed open. Silence. One man carrying a machete held on to the buff’s head and in one fast stroke slashed the throat open. With blood spurting everywhere, the buffalo stood on his feet for a short time before crashing to the ground while the rest of the blood drained out.
Big e-e-w-w-w-’s from me. Then came buffalos two through five. Same routine while the crowd watched raptly to see how each one died. …View image… Adults, children and babies…no one flinched whereas I kept turning my head away muttering to ex-Marine that I was going to be sick. Big tough man had sold chemicals to a slaughterhouse once upon a time and this didn’t faze him at all.
The buffalos were all killed in the same relatively small circle and the ground was slick with blood. A few took a long time to die. One stayed on its feet forever before collapsing and another almost got away and started heading towards the stands with blood spurting out. This could be serious since a water buffalo can weigh up to 700 kilos/1,543 pounds!
At least buffalo’s don’t make any noise while dying and now there was a pile of five dead ones in the center. By this time, we’d had more than enough and asked Jo-Jo if we could leave. There were still two to go and then the skinning and butchering. Enough…
A big village can have 1,000-2,000 people in it and the meat is evenly distributed to everyone, a treat for the Torajans. The hides are dried …View image… sold and the buffalo horns displayed in front of the deceased’s home. Count the buffalo horns and that will tell you how many deaths over the years in that family. I felt better: (1) that the buffalos hadn’t died in vain; and (2) made it through the bloodbath without puking.
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