INDE _ Zemi, derniers héritiers d’un monde caché _ – Tribu Nagas - Civilisation - Documentaire - AMP (1080p)

Today everyone is getting ready in Boloninglo. A long procession slowly approaches. The young bride and their parents arrive, followed by their entire family and the inhabitants of Hazailo, their native village. They sing as they walk. The women wear ceremonial shawls. It's a day of celebration for the Zemi. After leaving Haflong, the administrative center of the Kachar Hills, we take a path that ventures into the mountains. Down in the valley of Laishong, a small market is held every afternoon where people from the mountain and valley gather. They sell what they've produced, along with a few imported goods. We're in the northeast of India, on the borders of Nagaland and Manipur. Higher up, I at last reach the village of Laishong, perched on the side of the hill. This is where my friend Echicombe Nume lives. He was my guide 20 years ago. In excitement, we climb the lone path leading to the top. Echicombe's house is located at the top of the village, opposite Hongseyuki, one of the two houses of worship. Unfortunately, my friend Echicombe is not there. I'm greeted by his wife and a few of his children. It's not easy to communicate without my friend. I finally understand that Echicombe has gone to Haflong, the district center. I first discovered these hills in northeast India over 20 years ago. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I wandered through the highlands from tribe to tribe. Hongrun, Hazailo, Laishong, all villages which had grown familiar to me. Meeting the Zemi was a revelation. Their attire, accessories, dances, music. Everything about them spoke of a strange connection with the Native American Indians I'd encountered so often in the past. Two decades have gone by since then. An eternity for such a small community. The village is the same as I'd remembered. The majestic Hongseyuki are still there. These dormitories for unmarried young people are also used as temples where ceremonies are held. They're still inhabited by one of the village wise men. Skulls of animals sacrificed during ritual ceremonies are displayed inside. The animal's spirits continue to live alongside the villagers and participate in the community of ancestral spirits. When I last visited, unmarried boys lived here too. Today they no longer sleep in the large dormitory room of the Hongseyuki. They live with their families. Family homes line each side of a main path. Here and there, metal sheeting has replaced the roofs of straw. They do alter the village's charm somewhat, but our friends assure us they're much more practical. Laishong is one of the three main villages of the Zemi tribe. In the late afternoon, the women gather at the single water source. From my room, reserved for unmarried men, I watch the children. The same games and the same laughter as 20 years ago. Tropical rain, a daily occurrence in this season, pours down over the village. I fall asleep with a touch of apprehension, lulled by the rain pattering on the tin roof. The next morning, Echikunbe's sister comes to present me with a scarf she made for me. My friend arrived at dawn, after a long exhausting night of walking. The fact we've barely woken up doesn't stop us from celebrating our reunion with a few glasses of rice beer. The drink is usually served on major occasions. Today, the men of the Kachah Hills consume too much of it, perhaps to drown their angst over an uncertain future. We look at the photos I took 20 years ago. This is Echikunbe's father. Back then, he wore the red shawl of the village chief. We set off for the neighboring village of Hongrong, located some 30 kilometers away. The path has been blocked by a landslide. We continue on foot. Hongrong is a historical village for the Zeliangrong people. It's the hub of their culture, and a symbol of their identity and resistance. Like all Zemi villages, Hongrong is located high up in the hills. As a warrior people and former headhunters, the Zemi feared enemy attacks, which explains why their villages are always perched up high. School has just let out, and the children run to greet us. The village chief follows behind. Once more, the pictures from my last trip have quite an effect. Hongrong is the native village of Rani Gaidinliu, a freedom fighter who led a revolt against British occupation. Echikunbe shows us the house she lived in until her death in 1993. In the 50s, she had headhunting outlawed, and reformed the animist tradition to found a new form of spiritual culture, the Heraka cult. A mausoleum is dedicated to her and the freedom fighters under her command. Today, all children of families who have remained faithful to the Heraka tradition wear a pendant with Rani Gaidinliu's picture on it. In the past few years, Heraka temples have been built in each village. Worshippers gather there to pray on nights when the moon is full. The Heraka cult has been greatly instrumental in helping the Zemi resist the evangelization that American missionaries have recently begun in the mountains of northeast India. Here, the men are working together to replace the roof of a family home. Meanwhile, the women crush millet used to prepare a local beer that is greatly enjoyed during traditional celebrations. I took lots of pictures of him 20 years ago during the Great Harvest Festival. Today, he's 37 and has five children. He was one of the best dancers among the village group of young unmarried men. In keeping with the strong Zemi tradition of hospitality, I'm invited into the family home, along with several of my old and new friends. Inside, these homes haven't changed. The dirt floor, central hearth, large hanging baskets for smoking meat and drying corn. We're served rice, chili, and a bit of meat. The Zemi are a people of oral tradition and sing their founding myths and legends, as well as the teachings of Rani Gaidinliu. A Haraka priest and his friends give us an impromptu concert. Meanwhile, one of the village healers massages Echecombe to relieve his pain. They sing love songs, memories of childhood, war chants, praises to the spirits of ancestors, and poems in memory of Rani Gaidinliu. Today is going to be a long day in Boleninglo. Preparations are underway for the wedding of the chief's son to a young woman from the neighboring village of Hazailo. A large mitun has just been tethered to the sacrificial post. The bride's family will hold the ceremony according to Haraka ritual. The father of the future groom welcomes us into his home. We're already invited to toast the happy event that will be taking place over the next few days. This morning, we head to Chotu Laishong. In keeping with Haraka tradition, the village is renowned for the quality of its dancers. As customary when approaching a zemi village, visitors announce themselves with shrill cries. A nice surprise awaits us. We're greeted by Nume, Echecombe's father. He's no longer village chief of Laishong. What a delight to relive the memories and funny anecdotes of my last stay in his tribe. The villagers of Chotu Laishong have planned to perform some of the dances that have carried their reputation well beyond the Kachar Hills. The village is the headquarters of the Zemi Cultural Association. This is where elders hand down the art of weaving, basket work, and especially singing and dancing. After the ablutions that always precede the practices, it's time to prepare the costumes. The boys paint their legs with a white mixture made of rice powder. Men from the Zeliangrong tribes traditionally wear kilts, and young women dresses embroidered with symbolic patterns. The body must always be in harmony with the colors of nature. It must look nice so the spirit that inhabits it feels good, protects it, and accompanies it as long as possible. The Haraka priest invites the dancers to gather in the house of worship. Dance is one of the pride and joys of the Zemi, and theirs is one of most beautiful I've ever seen. The dancers' steps are accompanied by slow rhythms, which gradually pick up speed until they hit a dizzying pace. The dances are light and graceful. They symbolize nature and pay homage to spirits often represented by birds. There are dances of seduction, war, and intimidation. Paper feathers now replace the hornbill feathers. The hornbill, a large bird resembling the kaleo, has all but disappeared along with the last expansive forests of the region. Each morning at dawn, Echicombe's children get ready for school. Their mother, aided by Chili Man, prepares a hearty breakfast for them. Our friend has been nicknamed Chili Man because of the amazing amount of chili he generally adds to the delicious dishes he cooks up on a daily basis. The children must walk all the way down to the bottom of the valley. That's where the schools are, along with a few shops and the Presbyterian church. After they've gone, the villagers head to the fields. They grow rice and ginger with the farming method called esartaj. Each family owns small plots of land that are often quite far from the village. These fields are their only resource. From here, we can see the Christian village down in the valley with its schools, handful of shops, church, and small marketplace. Echicombe's children go to the Salesians of Don Bosco Catholic School. And yet, Echicombe is a teacher at the public school. But he hasn't been paid in months, and the school has fallen into a state of neglect. In a twist of fate, this fervent follower of Rani's teachings and defender of the Haraka tradition is forced to send his own children to one of the Christian schools. For this generation, caught in a vice between two ways of thinking, that of their parents still attached to tradition and that of the teachers in the Christian schools, the notions of culture and identity no longer have the same meaning. We established here in Laishong in 2000. We promote general education and also teach our children morals and the Christian faith. This school is run by the Salesians of Don Bosco. They are also present in all of Assam and northeast India. In this village, we have 23 Catholic families. The others are Baptist and Presbyterian. There are also a few Hindus. Also, there are pagans who follow the Haraka tradition. Families that have remained faithful to the Haraka religion live up in the hills near the large houses of worship. Those who have converted to Christianity prefer to gather near the Christian schools or Presbyterian church where regular services are held. These new churches compete for the Zemi souls who have converted. Year after year, they draw a growing number of villagers. The temptation is great since membership in these churches brings help of various kinds and sizable material advantages. Several members of Echikunbe's extended family, in particular two of his aunts, have become fervent Christians. What's more, these churches are the only ones to offer quality education to children. In these remote regions, the public school is completely incompetent, neglected by the authorities in Delhi. The Presbyterian worship service held in this church gives free reign to individual or group trances. The faithful's prayers are accompanied by rapture and ecstasy. In the tiny village of Boloninglo, everyone is getting ready for the wedding that's going to be held today. A prayer is addressed to the mithun so its soul may leave peacefully. Then it is sacrificed in honor of the bride and groom. The tail is cut into small pieces that are distributed among the youngest children. These prime morsels are meant to bring them strength and energy. Branches are gathered. Their leaves will be used to embellish the dishes for the wedding feast. An atmosphere of excitement fills the home of the groom's parents. A loudspeaker and amplifier have been set up to enliven the festive celebration. Traditional Heraka songs and poems have been collected into booklets that were given out to the entire population. In a way, they are the memory of the founders of the Heraka cult. During ceremonies, the tribe's young people recite the poems and songs contained in the booklets. The master of ceremonies, the priest of Boloninglo, explains the meaning of some of the songs the village youth sing. We would love to see Rani Gondinyu once more. We would love to talk with her. We will always remember her guidance and teaching for our culture. The villagers are busy preparing a huge feast. A flock of guests will soon arrive from various semi-villages. Chili is an essential ingredient in Naga cooking and is used abundantly. It makes up for the lack of meat, which is only consumed on the most special occasion. Echikombe and some other men hang the mithun's head above the groom's house. They add the genitals as symbols of fertility. Later on, its skull will join those of the other sacrificial animals in the house of worship. A clamor arises from down in the valley. A long procession slowly approaches. The bride and her parents arrive, followed by their entire family and the inhabitants of Hazailo, their native village. They sing as they walk along. The women wear shawls. They each carry packs filled with gifts and bamboo containers of rice, beer and food. Their village chief leads the procession, carrying a spear. The groom's tribe greets them with chants of welcome. The groom's father stands behind the ribbon that marks off the entrance to his family home. For the Zemi, marriage not only signifies the union of two people, but also the alliance of the bride and groom's native villages. The chief of Angurung awaits with his rifle to announce the union of the young couple and their respective villages. At this point, the groom joins the procession. He stands directly behind his future wife. This symbolizes his entry into his in-laws community. The ribbon symbolizes the border between the two villages. On either side, the two leaders extol the qualities of the bride and groom and their communities. Then the chief of the groom's village cuts the symbolic ribbon. The procession now enters the groom's tribe to songs of welcome, applause and congratulations. The gifts are placed in the family home. There are all sorts of things and Echigombe is proud to show us. Chickens, eggs, rice, cloth and so on. The villagers gather around the copious wedding feast and share the meat of the sacrificial mithun. Small groups of young people from Hazailo and Bolonenglo gather around the communal dishes that symbolize union and sharing. The newlyweds and their attendants are invited to sit before the small square where the dancing will be held. They are no longer allowed to dance, since today they have entered the age of adults and parents. Among the Zemi, dancing is only for the unmarried. This dance is an offering to the spirits of nature so they may protect the newlyweds and bring happiness and prosperity to the family they are going to farm. The celebration is over. The elderly chief returns to his family in Laishong. At sundown, the women come one after the other to the water source, a custom that repeats each morning at dawn and again at dusk. The next morning in the village, a group of men are busy working. They are mending the fence and ramps. Elders simply enjoy the flow of time. Some devote themselves to community work, such as restoring rooftops, repairing or maintaining the large ceremonial edifices. Young people often join forces for large collective jobs, to gather wood for building, or go fishing and hunting. A small group of teenagers returns from the forest with barks, Once they're cut and ground, they'll be used for fishing in the river. Their sap will temporarily asphyxiate the fish and make them much easier to catch. Despite appearances, the modern world is present. It knocks insistently on the door of the Zemi world with its illusory dreams and temptations. Year after year, jeans and t-shirts replace traditional costumes. Homes change, and Christianity spreads. Individualism is gradually replacing the collective spirit, so dear to the inheritors of Rani Gayi Dinliu. Yet the Zemi do better than others at resisting the globalization of lifestyles and ways of thinking. A globalization that reaches well beyond economic models, to affect the cultural and spiritual foundations of traditional societies. The loss of references drives many fathers to drink, falling victim to alcoholism and the damage it inflicts. Although women too are subject to the siren call of the exterior world, they seem more attached to Haraka culture. They still devote most of their time to weaving the traditionally patterned shawls. They readily instruct children, passing on the knowledge of tradition and their tribe's identity. At any given moment throughout the day, small groups of children cluster around elders. They listen to their advice, stories from the past, legends and myths that have been handed down from generation to generation. The elders also tell them about the life of Rani Gayi Dinliu, who fought for their freedom. In the evening, the young people gather in the ceremonial home, to prepare the bark and vines as they sing. These collective chores are common in Naga villages. They maintain and strengthen social ties amid the same age groups. It's a special morning in the little village of Laishong. Today is the big cleaning and village improvement day. Once a month, the youngest children gather to clean the streets and alleys in a festive atmosphere. The two Ongseuki are going to be cleaned from top to bottom. In this tiny, isolated and forgotten land, a few hundred men and women in the hilltop villages have decided to resist the forced march of the world. Each day preceding the full moon, they paint their legs white and don their finest attire. A few children prepare for the evening of prayer and dance by practicing some steps, as if to show us what they've learned from their elders. Tonight is the full moon. Everyone gathers on the small square before the house of worship. Echikunbe tells me the villagers want the memory of my stay this time to be even more powerful than before. Even if we have to wait another 20 years, he says, we'll wait for your return. My youngest child will be the age of my eldest today, and you won't even realize the time that's gone past. Throughout the entire evening, the children and youths will perform the feather, bird, bamboo or flower dances. It's a celebration of nature, a sort of offering to the spirits of life. A lot of things have changed in 20 years. Still, the changes here have been less drastic. They brandish spears and shields in an intimidation ritual. Everywhere among their neighbors in Nagaland or Manipur, there is great temptation to give in to the exterior world, to the pressures of economic powers, the bearers of new religions, and to international tourism that is worming its way into the most remote corners of the planet. In the end, the choice doesn't really exist. Things alter and change before the last remaining tribes even have the time or opportunity to react. When folklore begins to insidiously replace culture and tradition, it sounds the death knell of the last remaining native peoples. And here I am, in spite of myself, invited to partake of this friendly challenge. No question of sneaking away. Compared to the agility of my sparring partner, my awkwardness makes me look ridiculous and gets a good laugh from our Laishong friends. At dusk, we hear the love songs that boys and girls used to exchange from one mountain to another. Once the sun sets, everyone gathers in the house of worship. Some play one of the Zemi's favorite games. Jump high enough to grab the Mithun's horns and hang on to them as long as possible. In Laishong and the hilltop villages, Heraka culture and tradition are still alive and well. But what will become of the new generations issuing from the denominational schools, springing up one after the other throughout the valley? Tonight, caught up in the whirlwind of dance, the ephemeral goes hand in hand with the eternal. It's as if the 20 years since our first meeting never happened. As if time had stopped to offer us this taste of eternity so dear to those who have chosen to make their lives a perpetual journey.