Tana Toraja: Where Death Takes Time
In Tana Toraja on Sulawesi, Indonesia, death is a long social transition. This photo story follows four days of Rambu Solo’, exploring family, ritual, buffaloes, Christian influence and the people who keep these traditions alive.
Traditional alang rice barns in Tana Toraja on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi.
The dead stay at home
The man inside the traditional house had died only a few weeks earlier. His body was carefully wrapped in layers of cloth and rested inside the house, where a faint sweet smell lingered in the air. Yet he had not fully left the social world of the living. Everyday family life continued around him.
A deceased family member inside a traditional Toraja house, wrapped in pineapple fibres and resting on bamboo poles.
According to Aluk Todolo, the ancestral belief system of the Toraja people, the deceased can remain part of the household until the appropriate funeral rites have taken place. During this time, they may be regarded as to makula’, sick rather than fully departed. Death is therefore not understood only as a biological moment, but as a longer social transition.
That transition is completed through Rambu Solo’. Over four days, we visited four different villages and witnessed different stages of these funeral ceremonies. What gradually became clear was that Rambu Solo’ is about much more than burial. It brings families together, makes obligations and relationships visible and eventually allows the deceased to leave the social world they had continued to be part of.
Understanding any of this would have been almost impossible without Meyske. Ika, as her friends and family call her, runs a homestay in a traditional Toraja village, works as a local guide and is part of the leadership team of the local guide association. Her family comes from Toraja, although she spent much of her life on Java before later returning to care for her grandmother.
Meyske is deeply committed to keeping Toraja traditions visible, understood and valued.
Meyske knew the traditions, but just as importantly, she knew the people. Information about ceremonies often came at short notice, plans changed frequently and motorcycles were essential for moving quickly between villages. She also made sure that we entered the funerals as respectful guests, dressed in black with a black sarong, contributing to the families and following her advice about what was appropriate.
Day 1: Raising the deceased
The first stage we witnessed began with rhythm. Women stood around a large wooden trough and struck long bamboo poles into it in a steady pattern, while close male relatives gathered around the deceased nearby and sang.
Afterwards the ceremony began to move through the village. Young men carried the wrapped body beneath an elaborate structure resembling a small house, accompanied by a gong, women holding a long cloth and the tau-tau, an effigy representing the deceased. For a while, cars and motorcycles simply had to wait as the procession occupied the main road.
Back at the ceremonial ground, the deceased was raised onto an elevated structure overlooking the gathering. A buffalo was sacrificed, while the young men who had carried the heavy structure later gathered for beer. What struck me was how naturally solemn ritual, physical effort, laughter and socialising existed alongside one another. Mourning did not seem to require a single emotional state.
Day 2: Bringing the family home
The second stage revealed another important function of Rambu Solo’: bringing families back together.
Groups of relatives entered the ceremonial area and were formally announced over a loudspeaker together with the places they had travelled from. We heard locations across Java and Sumatra, and at one point even South Korea. Many Toraja live far from the places their families originally came from, but funerals draw them back.
Even the way people are addressed reflects how strongly identity is connected to family relationships. During the reception, guests may be announced through the firstborn member of the youngest generation in their direct family line. Meyske’s mother, for example, may be introduced as “the mother of Ika.” I found this particularly striking because in many cultures, children are identified through their parents. Here, the relationship can work the other way around: older generations are socially located through those who come after them.
Children and grandchildren welcomed guests in traditional clothing, large amounts of food were prepared and served, and relatives met people they might otherwise rarely see. Rambu Solo’ does more than accompany the deceased. It also renews relationships among the living. Temporary bamboo structures provide shade and seating for hundreds of guests, kitchens prepare food on a large scale and families invest considerable time and money in the event.
Day 3: Buffaloes, obligations and meat
On the third day, the symbolic importance of the buffalo became very physical. At one ceremony, eighteen animals were slaughtered on the central ceremonial ground and then butchered by experienced men.
The buffaloes are not only sacrifices. Their meat helps feed the hundreds of people attending a large funeral, alongside pigs that are also slaughtered for the gathering. The animals are contributed by relatives, making them part of family obligations and reciprocity. An older man moved between the butchered buffaloes carrying a stick and indicated which portions belonged to which families. What initially looked like a practical task made the social relationships surrounding the funeral remarkably tangible. Contributions, kinship and status were translated into actual shares of meat.
Traditional status distinctions matter much less in everyday life today, but they still shape Rambu Solo’. One of the most prestigious forms traditionally involves 24 buffaloes and is reserved for members of the highest of four hereditary status groups. Offering such a funeral is therefore not only an expression of wealth, but also one of the greatest honours a family can give to the deceased.
Trigger warning: The photo gallery below contains images of blood, dead buffalo, and buffalo being slaughtered.
The buffaloes are also one of the main reasons why large Rambu Solo’ ceremonies can become so expensive. At the buffalo market, we saw how carefully the animals were washed, fed and looked after. Their value depends on characteristics such as colouring, markings and the shape of their horns, and particularly rare animals can command extraordinary prices. We heard of buffaloes worth more than 20.000€.
Within Aluk Todolo, these differences carry religious meaning. Meyske explained that particular buffaloes may have specific roles in the deceased’s journey towards Puya, such as carrying the deceased, lighting the way or helping to open the gate into the world beyond.
Day 4: Saying goodbye
The final stage we witnessed took place far up in the mountains. When we arrived, the atmosphere was noticeably quieter. A Christian minister dressed in purple was preaching, a choir sang, and the closest female relatives sat around the wrapped body of the deceased in deep mourning.
After the service and a shared meal, relatives gathered around the deceased, hooked their pinkies together and sang. One of the grandsons was particularly overwhelmed by grief and eventually leaned over the wrapped body, unable to let his grandfather go. Other grandchildren had described their grandfather as an exceptionally kind man. In that moment, all the unfamiliarity of the ceremonies disappeared. There was simply a family grieving someone they loved. I had to pause.
Not long afterwards, the atmosphere changed. As the young men prepared to carry the body to the grave, the gathering became increasingly playful. Family members wore T-shirts printed with their grandfather’s face, people laughed, and once the procession left the village, young men and women began throwing water and mud at one another. Residents along the mountain road joined in with buckets and water pistols.
The grave was located roughly two kilometres away. By the time the procession reached it, the quiet grief of the morning had turned into a lively communal walk through the mountains. Yet it did not feel as though one emotion had replaced the other. Sadness and joy simply belonged to the same goodbye.
At the grave, a bamboo ladder was placed against the rock and the wrapped body was carried into the stone chamber. Some of the grandfather’s personal belongings were placed inside with him before the burial was completed.
After the ceremonies, and after the much longer period during which the deceased had remained within the family’s everyday life, the transition was finally complete.
Traditions that change without disappearing
One thing continued to fascinate me throughout these days. Most Toraja today are Christian, yet many practices rooted in Aluk Todolo remain central to Rambu Solo’. Christian ministers and choirs participate in the ceremonies, while older ideas about Puya and the role of buffaloes remain present. Rather than one belief system simply replacing another, old and new practices have become intertwined.
In my academic work, we call this institutional layering: new practices are added to existing ones rather than simply replacing them, creating coexistence but also tension. The traditional buffalo fights are a good example. Ma’pasilaga Tedong remains connected to large funeral ceremonies and can draw huge crowds, but the gambling surrounding the fights conflicts with both Christian norms and Indonesian law.
What keeps these traditions alive are the people who practice and pass them on. Some know the ceremonial protocol, others prepare food, contribute animals or know how meat should be distributed between families. Younger generations grow up taking part. Meyske plays her own role by making these traditions accessible to visitors from around the world, while ensuring they are approached with respect. That outside interest can also reinforce their value within the community itself.
What initially seemed unfamiliar gradually revealed how much work it takes to keep traditions meaningful as society changes around them. At its core, however, Rambu Solo’ remains about something remarkably familiar: coming together as a family and finding a way to say goodbye.
In the end, it is about being there when someone has to say goodbye.
From Punk Rock to Free Meals in NYC
From a punk-rock fundraiser in Brooklyn to a Sunday morning in the kitchen of EVLovesNYC: a photographic look at the volunteers, organizations and local networks that form part of New York City’s ecosystem of mutual aid and community support.
Baltimore Pop Punk Band AITA at Young Ethel’s Brooklyn NYC
Friday night in Brooklyn NYC
On a Friday night in Brooklyn, the back room of Young Ethel’s is packed. The stage is barely separated from the crowd, and the atmosphere is intimate, energetic and loud. Loud enough, in fact, that Baltimore pop-punk band AITA hands out earplugs for free.
The show was organized by Collective Scream as a fundraiser for EVLovesNYC, a New York mutual aid organization providing meals across the city. EVLovesNYC merchandise was on display, the organization was briefly introduced at the beginning of the evening, and the proceeds from the show went toward supporting its work.
Talking to Morgan from Collective Scream, I learned more about the role they try to play between two very different worlds. Mutual aid organizations are constantly looking for ways to fund their work, while bands and audiences are often willing to support local causes. Collective Scream brings the two together by organizing fundraiser shows.
Two days later, I got to see where that support goes.
Lower East Side Girls Club aka EVLovesNYC Headquaters
Inside EVLovesNYC
As a PhD Student working on a paper about volunteering, I wanted to use my time in NYC for a closer look at a volunteer-run organization. I came across EVLovesNYC during my desk research. They cook around 2,600 meals every Sunday, distributing them across the city. Two emails later, Ann, who is responsible for communications, invited me to spend a Sunday with the team.
By the time I arrived at around 10:30 in the morning, the preparations were already well underway. The peeling and chopping had been completed downstairs, while upstairs several batches of food were being cooked and packed. The kitchen was highly organized, everyone seemed to know their role, and the standards were highly professional. I was handed a hairnet before I could start photographing.
Three meals were being prepared that day: chicken, beef and a vegan option. Everything was halal, reflecting the needs of many of the communities EVLovesNYC serves. The people working in the kitchen were mostly experienced volunteers who regularly come back and have learned how to prepare large quantities of food safely and efficiently. Many also have experience working in professional kitchens.
What stood out to me was that the goal was clearly not just to provide calories. I was encouraged to try the food myself, and it was genuinely good: flavorful, carefully seasoned and freshly prepared. There is a simple idea behind that approach. People should not only have access to food, but to food that is healthy and enjoyable to eat.
The organization has come a long way since its founders began cooking from home during the COVID-19 pandemic. Today, EVLovesNYC operates from a professional kitchen inside a community center that also houses the Lower Eastside Girls Club.
A system designed for participation
Next to the kitchen, the packing process worked almost like an assembly line. Each person had a clear task, and boxes filled with finished meals remarkably quickly.
Unlike in the kitchen, some of the people working at the packing stations were first-time or occasional volunteers. Several shifts took place throughout the morning, each beginning with a short onboarding. The setup allowed people to contribute without needing extensive experience or making a long-term commitment.
That combination seemed important to me: a stable core provides the knowledge and coordination necessary to keep the operation running, while others can join whenever they have the time and motivation. Leadership responsibilities are also distributed among several members of the organization rather than concentrated in one person.
A similar principle applies to the distribution of the meals. While EVLovesNYC distributes food directly at several locations, most meals are passed on to a wider network of organizations that bring them directly into the communities they serve. The work therefore depends not only on volunteers within EVLovesNYC, but also on partnerships that extend its reach across the city.
At the same time, the atmosphere was anything but formal. People talked, joked and seemed to genuinely enjoy working together. One volunteer jokingly told me that the excellent bagels were an important reason for returning on Sundays. EVLovesNYC also encourages volunteers to eat the same meals they prepare and distribute. Doing something useful and enjoying the time spent doing it are not treated as opposites.
From the kitchen to the park
After the meals had been packed, I walked to nearby Tompkins Square Park to join the distribution team. The busiest part of the day was already over when I arrived. A few meals remained, some of which were given to park employees, while the rest were taken to a nearby community fridge.
The community fridge added another layer to what I was beginning to understand about mutual aid in New York. Instead of distributing food only at a specific time and place, these publicly accessible refrigerators allow food to remain available for people to take when they need it. For EVLovesNYC, it also meant that the meals left at the end of the distribution could still reach people rather than going to waste.
During the distribution, I deliberately kept my camera focused on the volunteers, the food and the process rather than on identifiable people receiving meals. EVLovesNYC does not require anyone to prove that they are sufficiently in need before receiving food, and trust within the communities it serves is essential. I did not want my photographs to interfere with that relationship or reduce people to visual representations of hardship.
Instead, I became increasingly interested in the people who keep the system running. I spent a long time talking with Amber from the distribution team, and our conversation eventually moved beyond volunteering to the question of how we can shape our professional lives in ways that contribute something meaningful to society.
The network behind the work
What stayed with me after these two encounters was not only the work of EVLovesNYC itself, but the network surrounding it.
Preparing and distributing meals requires experienced volunteers, but also people who can join for a single shift. Many of the meals move through a wider network of partner organizations that bring them directly into the communities they serve. Local businesses contribute resources as well. One of EVLovesNYC’s major supporters, for example, is 7th Street Burger, a local burger chain that started on the same street where the organization is now based. And organizations such as Collective Scream add another link to the network by connecting social causes with bands, venues and audiences, creating new and creative ways to raise funds.
Coming from Germany, I was struck by how visible this ecosystem of mutual aid organizations, volunteers, businesses and informal initiatives is in New York. In a city with extremely high living costs and a social safety net that differs considerably from the one I know from Germany, these organizations become an important part of the social infrastructure of their neighborhoods.
What makes that infrastructure possible is participation at very different levels. Some people return every week and build the knowledge needed to run the operation. Others arrive for the first time and start packing meals after a short introduction. Some organize concerts, some play in bands, and others simply buy a ticket. And some people make a lot of money and donate a portion of it. Together, these different roles offer a glimpse into the ecosystem that keeps the work going.
Amber promoting free food at Tompkins Square Park