Měsíc: Prosinec 2015

Golden State Warriors versus Cleveland Cavaliers

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Sehnat dobré lístky na zápas Golden State Warriors proti Cleveland Cavaliers, v současné době dvou nejlepších týmu basketbalové NBA, je samo o sobě celkem událost. Mě se to krátce před odletem do San Franciska podařilo. Zápas v oaklandské Oracle Areně proběhl 25. prosince. Devátá řada uprostřed oproti lavičkám obou týmu slibovala parádní podívanou.

Zápas v žádném případě nezklamal, Warriors po 48 minutách čistého času vyhráli 89 ku 83. Rozhodl jejich vyrovnanější tým. Největším zážitkem ale rozhodně bylo sledovat pohyb a hru LeBrona Jamese, frontmana Cavs. Hrající legenda NBA dala nejvíc bodů a v pomyslném souboji porazila poněkud nudného lídra válečníků Stephena Curryho. Dva lístky mě přišly na bezmála 2500 dolarů. Vydané pěníze považuji za velmi dobrou investici.

 

 

 

Do we really know from where we came from?

Posted on by Honza Škovran

From our miserable hotel to the Makassar airport is supposed to be just about 5-6 hours. Since nothing keeps us here, not even „a breakfast“ we use the calling for early morning prayer of the neighboring mosque to get up. Just taking a shower, throwing our stuff in the duffle bags, and by 6am we are on the road again. Not so much that we are looking for extending stay at the airport.

We want to stop on our way in a place you probably never heard of, and probably you never will, BUT if you ever heard of beautiful rock paintings of Altamira or Lascaux you may want to read this. Barely an hour from Makassar Airport we turn right into a flat valley full of green rice fields where today people works their land to make living. All surrounded by limestone towers. Safely hidden behind the wall of disinterested locals are few caves. In 1950 a Dutch couple discovered in them paintings of wild pigs and human stencils. How old they were? Nobody dared to estimate more than 10,000 years because nobody expected paintings could survive this climate in very shallow caves! OK, but even if they are just 10,000 years old we still HAVE to see them! And we did. They are truly amazing!

You bet they were worthy of any minute we spent there instead of waiting for our flights in the Makassar. They were late anyway!!! What we have to know now how really old are they? Let us go back to the Dutch couple (Mr. van Heekeren and Miss van Heeren for the record) doing their pioneering work. They did not have tools we do have today and guessing from historical records of male professors doing their field work while being supported by a young attractive female assistant full of admiration they might have other vested interests than guessing how old is the pig in the cave! But if other scientists would not question the judgment of this remote couple, I definitely WOULD and thanks God there were others. Not just me!

Today we we know that the paintings of pigs or whatever animals are depicted here were made with the natural mineral pigment ochre – probably ironstone haematite – which the hunter-gatherers ground to a powder and mixed with water or other liquids to create paint. Maroon red dye is almost impossible to erase. Damn it, can you imagine somebody doing that today? Probably not. What about 10,000 years ago? Are you crazy? But as I wrote above, never trust anybody, and as my wife keep saying „Especially not a married man!“ as Mr. Van Heekeren was. 60 years or so later, finally a co-ed team (here we go again!) of scientists did what should have been done long time ago. And results? Absolutely stunning!!! Fresh analysis of the pictures by this team shocked researchers by dating one hand marking to be at least 39,999 years old (those guys must be good in shoe pricing as well), and two paintings of animals, a pig-deer or babirusa (sorry, never heard of and corroborate on it), and another animal, probably a wild pig, to at least 35,400 and 35,700 years ago respectively!!!! If this is true, we have two groups of artists (one in Western Europe and another group in Sulawesi, roughly 7 time zones apart) INDEPENDENTLY on each other producing art on the level superior to what we can see today in Galleries of Contemporary Art around California! It means our descendants were artists BEFORE they left Africa. They were not just dumb bi-pedals picking up insects, nuts and bottom of the food chain garbage. And waiting for the Big Bang of their artistic skills only after reaching today France. And its art and creativity stimulating wine! They were artists before they crossed Deserts of Sinai! Or Red Sea, sorry Mr.Ten Amendments!

This is absolutely revolutionary! But before you throw your support behind this theory I would caution you as our experience with many similar theories keeps teaching us so far. Remember butter/margarine story! Or another one, this is my personal one. A theory that my famous countrymen, a musician, a traveler, a philosopher, a true renaissance man (his name was Jára da Cimrman) was involved in the Ferdinand de Lessepse infamous first attempt to dig a ditch later called Da Panama Canal. This theory came to a sudden collapse after Jára’s pair of rubber boots was discovered in the roof storage area of his birth place cabin in the small mountain village of Bohemia. After Czech Academy of Sciences special lab did carbon testing of the cow shit found in his rubber boot soles it was confirmed that this material originated somewhere in Americas on or about August 6, 1902 plus minus 200 YEARS! Not really a proof the theory supporters were looking for.

So be patient, my dear girls. You may be among the first people to see on those photos of mine the oldest art in the history of human mankind. But we may need more than what is scientifically proven so far. No matter how encouraging it may look!

 

Thanksgiving Holiday should be peaceful without a drop of blood. Part 2

Posted on by Honza Škovran

In some villages we could see another piece of history of Torajan people’s love affair with death, burials and other stuff I consider related to formaldehyde business such as beautiful megaliths making Toraja land almost in the same league with Stonehenge mystic. In many other places we could have seen Torajan tribe’s creativity as they were running out of natural cave supply used in more ancient history of this nation. So they created the man made caves by carving them into the boulders of various sizes as they were thrown downhill by many volcanoes of Central Sulawesi making this area not only an ideal cemetery but natural fertile land providing for happy life of those still living

But most of the day we simply enjoyed sharing with people in the countryside their everyday activities such as carving and painting panels for their new family granary as well as bathing their family buffalo. By the end of the day we just could not help and kept asking our driver and the guide to stop at the edge of the narrow winding mountain road and enjoyed the views of Torajan lovely mountain countryside.

 

Another strange day on the road

Posted on by Honza Škovran

This was the day I have been preparing myself for mentally for last few months. Toraja land and Toraja people is the place where traditions survive the onslaught of „modern“ era. And this was the main reason we came here: To see them, and let’s be honest, it was not always easy to watch. I have to say that we have for our stay in Toraja land an excellent local guide with a comfortable car and driver. Otto, the guide, was carefully selected by mom, and she did a great job in getting somebody to learn more and understand as much as possible. Because what we can see here is so unusual we can hardly find anywhere else. If I thought the visits of the local markets may have prepared me for what we saw today I was a little bit too optimistic. Toraja people, similarly to many small entities (Jews, Koreans to mention just a few), in their quest of cultural survival, hold to their family and clan structure through sticking to their customs and traditions no matter how bizarre they may be for outsiders. And here I am stunned (mom was much better prepared) thrown into the middle of one of the most important Toraja festivities. The celebration of one of the clan elders who actually passed away 2 years ago, but was kept embalmed at home. Now the process of healing of his immediate family with his departure has come to an end. Now he can be buried, nobody cries anymore and let us throw a party. And what a party it was!

The clan’s plaza surrounded by their traditional houses which serve as granaries or their residential homes, is a place where clan hosts thousands of members from the village as well as the faraway places of Toraja land. They meet and throughout the party they talk and strengthen the clan member relationship. All of them in black outfits they execute this idea in a rather gruesome manner. What can be described very gently as sacrifice (as in many religion is) here in Toraja land it is a merciless slaughter of a hundred of pigs and a little bit less of buffaloes. Being a descendant of the village butcher’s family, my grandfather and uncle of maternal lineage where members of this profession, I saw some of this trade when growing up in my land of ancestors. But I was unprepared for this. To my surprise mom clearly was! For me it was a strange contrast of the beautiful architecture of the granaries and casual cruelty of this massacre as I would see it. I had a hard time to keep my composure as I was trying to document the artistry of the traditional granaries while kicking over the animals waiting to be paraded in the procession in front of the casket followed by their last moment of life.

Regarding buffaloes they seem approaching their fate with resignation and in peace. Maybe they understood their significance of being a vehicle for varying the souls to the Land of Ancestors. But pigs? They must be smart cookies and they knew pretty well what is coming and let their executioners know about it. Loudly. No matter how hopeless their resistance was. They screamed. They kicked. They breath heavily as their end was approaching. No matter how much I admire Toraja people for their stubbornness to define their own destiny and their eternal love for pork bacon. And how much I hate Moslem owners of the hotels we stayed in other parts of this country to impose their „beef bacon“ culture on me, this was simply too much for me. Never ever in my life I was closer to the idea to give up on prosciutto and become a VEGETARIAN!!!

As an anticlimax to this bloodthirsty morning we visited a place where the body, soul, spirit and phantom of the deceased are put to their final rest. Toraja people do not bury their ancestor under ground. The soil is too valuable here and the place of the final rest can not disturb the life giving force with death. Instead they transfer them to the caves where their descendants can still visit them and be with them. To my own surprise I did enjoy this calm and kind moment of the day tremendously as my intention to convert to vegetarianism weakened with more urgent ideas for upcoming dinner. At the end of this story I would like to state that I was very careful in selection of photos to show only those you may feel comfortable with.

Good night, nice dreams!

Thanksgiving Holiday should be peaceful without a drop of blood

Posted on by Honza Škovran

Amen, it was!

We spent this day by observing the beauty of the mountain landscape, traditional Torajan architecture, its history and artistry of weavers and builders. As we moved throughout the north of Toraja land we discovered the traditional architecture is not a museum. It is a living feature of the life here as we were passing village after village with traditional Torajan housing prevailing style of housing with new houses under construction in most of locations we visited. You cannot help but admire the construction technique, the workmanship, methods of measurement and surveying as I discuss them with young master builder. However critical I may have been to absolute lack of empathy and compassion with suffering of butchered animals, you cannot see their ability to keep their culture, custom and lifestyle successfully intact and free of undue external influence. Damn the government in Jakarta, damn the rest of Indonesia, damn Sulawesi! What really matters is my clan!!!!!

In the shade of some of the village granaries we found weavers adjacent frequently to the shops offering the fabrics and even interesting antiques so observing their craft was immediately followed by the frontal attack by business people in charge of selling no matter what and for how much. God bless them!