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

Today, in Boloninglo, everyone is getting ready. A long procession is slowly approaching. The young bride and her parents arrive, followed by their families and the inhabitants of Asailo, from where they are originally from. They progress by singing. The women wear their ceremony chalets. It's a day of celebration for the emis. After leaving Haflong, the capital of the Monkachars, we set off on the trail that goes down into the mountains. At the bottom of the Laichung valley, a small market gathers every afternoon the people of the mountains and those of the valley. They sell their products and some imported goods. We are in the northeast of India, on the outskirts of Nagaland and Manipur. At the top, I finally find the village of Laichung, hanging on the edge of the mountain. This is where my friend Echekambe Nyume lives. He was my guide 20 years ago. We climb, a little feeble, the only alley leading to the top. Echekambe's house is located at the top of the village, in front of the Angsewuki, one of the two great houses of worship. Unfortunately, Echekambe is absent. I am welcomed by his wife, surrounded by some of his children. It's not easy to communicate without my friend. She makes me understand that Echekambe has gone to Haflong, the capital of the province. I discovered these mountains in the northeast of India for the first time more than 20 years ago. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I then traveled these highlands, from tribe to tribe. Angroon, Hazailo, Laichung, so many villages that had become familiar to me. The meeting with the Emi was a real shock. Their attire, their appearance, their dance, their music, all of them maintained this strange link with these Native Americans that my crossroads had allowed me to meet many times. Two decades have passed since then. An eternity for this people. The village has remained as it was in my memories. The majestic Angsewuki are still there. These houses of celibacy also serve as temples for ceremonies. They are still inhabited by one of the village's sages. The skulls of the animals sacrificed during ritual ceremonies are exposed inside. Thus, the spirit of the animal continues to live alongside men and to participate in the community of the ancestors' spirits. During my last trip, the celibate boys also lived there. Today, they leave the vast room of the Angsewuki, which served as a dormitory. They stay in their family. The family houses are distributed on each side of a central alley. Here and there, some stilt roofs have replaced straw roofs. Of course, they alter the charm of the village a bit, but if you don't believe our friends, they are so much more practical. Lyshong is one of the three large villages of the Zemi tribe. In the late afternoon, the women gather around the only water source. Settled in the room reserved for unmarried men, I observe the children. The same games, the same laughs as 20 years ago. The tropical rain, daily in this season, falls on the village. It is with a point of apprehension that I fall asleep, shaken by the sound of the rain on the roof of our roof. The next morning, the Chekambe sister comes to offer me a scarf that she knitted on purpose. My friend arrives at dawn, after a whole night of walking. It does not prevent him from sharing, while we are barely waking up, a few glasses of rice beer to celebrate our reunion. This drink is usually consumed during the great Okanagan. Today, the men of Mount Kasha drink immeasurable quantities, perhaps to drown the anxiety of uncertain tomorrows. We look at the photos I took 20 years ago. Here is Chekambe's father. He then wore the red scarf of the village chiefs. On the road, we head to the neighboring village of Angrung, about thirty kilometers away. The track is blocked by a landslide. We continue on foot. Angrung is a historical village for the Zheliangrong nation. Nebralgic center of their culture, it is also the symbol of their identity resistance. Like all Zemi villages, Angrung is located on a mountainous promontory. Warrior people and former headhunters, the Zemi feared enemy attacks. This is why their villages are always placed at the top of the mountains. Just out of school, the children rush to our meeting. They are followed by the village chief. Again, the photos taken during my previous trip have their effect. Angrung is the village of Rani Gandiliu, a freedom fighter who fought against the British occupation. And Chekambe shows us the house she lived in until her death in 1993. In the 1950s, she banned headhunting and reformed the animist tradition to found a new form of spiritual culture, the Heraka cult. A mausoleum is dedicated to her as well as to the freedom fighters who were under her command. Nowadays, all the children of the families who remained faithful to the Heraka tradition wear a small pendant to the effigy of Rani Gandiliu. In recent years, Heraka temples have been built in each village. The faithful gather there to pray during the full moon nights. The Heraka cult has allowed the Emi to resist better than others to the evangelization recently carried out by the American missionaries in these mountains in northeast India. Here, men help each other to replace the roof of a family house. The women on their side peel the millet which will be used to prepare a local beer very appreciated during traditional feasts. Here is Talienne. I took a lot of pictures of him 20 years ago during the big harvest festival. He is now 37 years old and has 5 children. He was one of the best dancers of the group of young celibates of the village. As the very strong hospitality tradition of the Emi wants, I am invited to the family house in the company of several of my friends from yesterday and today. The interior of the houses has not changed. The earthen floor, the central courtyard, the large suspended baskets where the meat is smoked and the corn is dried. We are offered rice, pepper and a little meat. People of oral tradition, the Emi sing their founding myth and their legend but also the teachings of Rani Gandiliu. A priest Eraka and his friends offer us an improvised concert. During this time, one of the healers of the village, Masetche Kambe, to relieve his pain. Songs of love, memories of their youth, but also songs of war or praises to the spirits of the ancestors. Poems in memory of Rani Gandiliu. This day will be long in Boloninglo. We are preparing the wedding of the chief's son with a young woman from the neighboring village of Aizailo. A large mitun has just been tied to the altar of the sacrifices. The family of the young groom will welcome the ceremony according to the ritual Eraka. The father of the future Emi, the future husband, welcomes us at his home. We are already invited to drink to this happy event which will take place the following days. This morning, we go to Chotolaichang. This village, faithful to the Eraka tradition, is known for the quality of its dancers. As usual, in the vicinity of a Zemi village, visitors are announced by tridents. A good surprise awaits us. We are welcomed by Nyume, the father of the Chekombe. He is no longer the chief of the village of Laichang. What a joy to remember the memories and funny moments of my last stay in his tribe. Oh la la la! The villagers have planned to offer us some of these dances which have made their reputation far beyond the Kachar mountains. Chotolaichang is the seat of the cultural association Zemi. It is here that the elders transmit the arts of weaving, weaving and above all, singing and dancing. After the toilet of use, which always precedes the training, it is time to prepare for the show. The boys comb their legs with a white powder-based mixture of rice. The men of the Yeliangrong tribes traditionally wear kilts and the young girls embroidered robes with symbolic motifs. The body must always be in harmony with the colors of nature. It must be beautiful so that the spirit that inhabits it feels good, protects it and accompanies it as long as possible. The priest Eraka invites the dancers to gather in the house of worship. Dance is one of the pride of the Zemi and it is one of the most beautiful that I have been given to see. Slow rhythms accompany the steps of the dancers. Then, gradually, they become more and more sustained and fast until they reach a real drunkenness. The dances are all in aerial grace. They symbolize nature and pay tribute to the spirits often represented by the bird. They are, turn by turn, dances of seduction, dances of war and intimidation. The feathers of the Hornbill are now replaced by paper feathers. The Hornbill, this large bird close to the Calao, has almost disappeared with the last large forests of the region. Every morning at dawn, the children of the Hornbill are getting ready for school. Their mother, helped by Chili Man, prepares them a consistent breakfast. Our friend was nicknamed Chili Man because of the impressive amount of peppers he is used to add to the good little dishes he gives us every day. The children must descend all the way to the bottom of the valley. This is where the schools are gathered, some small shops and the temple of the Presbyterian Church. After their departure, the villagers join the fields. They grow rice and ginger there, according to a culture process called sartage. Each family has a few small plots of land, often quite far from the village. These fields constitute their only resource. From here we can see the Christian village at the bottom of the valley, with the schools, the few shops, the temple and the small market square. The children of the Hornbill study at the Catholic school of the Salesians of Don Bosco. However, the Hornbill is a teacher in a public school. But his salary has not been paid for a while, and the school is abandoned. Irony of fate, although a fervent supporter of Rani's teachings and a defender of the Heraka tradition, the Hornbill is forced to send his own children to one of these Christian schools. For this generation, born between two forms of thought, that of their parents still attached to the tradition and that of the teachers of the Christian schools, the notions of culture or identity no longer have the same meaning. We were established here in Lai Chong in 2000. We teach a general teaching and we also give moral and Christian religion classes to the children. This school is run by the Salesian fathers of Don Bosco. They are also very present throughout Assam and northeast India. There are 23 Catholic families here in Lai Chong. The others are of Baptist or Presbyterian faith. There are also a few Hinduists, and in the traditional villages there are families who remained faithful to the Heraka tradition. Families who remained faithful to the Heraka spirituality live on the heights around the great houses of worship. Those converted to Christianity prefer to gather around Christian schools or the Presbyterian temple, where the offices are regularly celebrated. These new churches discuss the souls of the enemies who have agreed to convert. They attract, year after year, a growing number of villagers. The temptation is great for these faithful. The adhesion to these churches is accompanied by help of various natures and material advantages that are not negligible. Several members of the Elarji family of Echekambe, including two of his aunts, have become fervent Christians. In addition, these churches are the only ones to offer quality education to children. The public school is totally failing in these remote areas and abandoned by the powers that be. The Presbyterian rite practiced in this temple leaves free rein to individual or collective trances. Ecstasy accompanies the prayers of the faithful. In the small village of Boloninglo, everyone is preparing for the wedding that will take place today. A prayer is addressed to Mitun so that his soul can go in peace, then he is sacrificed in honor of the future spouses. The tail is cut into small pieces that are distributed to the youngest children. These pieces of choice are supposed to give them strength and energy. Branches are brought back, whose leaves will be used to decorate the emmet of the big feast. The atmosphere is fervent among the parents of the young groom. A loudspeaker and a small sound system have been installed to animate this day of celebration. The chants and the poetry of the Heraka tradition have been gathered on small booklets that have been distributed to the entire population. They are, in a way, the memory of the founders of the Heraka cult. During the ceremonies, the young people of the tribe recite the chants and the poetry contained in these pages. The ceremony master, the priest of Boloninglo, explains to us the meaning of some of the chants chanted by the young people of the village. The villagers are preparing a big feast. Many guests will soon arrive from the different villages. An essential ingredient of the Naga gastronomy, pepper is used in large quantities. It compensates for the absence of meat, which is consumed only for big occasions. Echekambe and a few men hang the head of the great Mitun at the front of the house of the groom. They add his genital organs, a symbol of fertility. Later, his skull will join those of the other animals sacrificed in the house of the cults. A clamor rises from the bottom of the valley. A long procession approaches slowly. The young bride and her parents arrive, followed by their families and the inhabitants of Hazailo, where they are from. They advance singing. The women are covered in a shawl. They all wear hats on their backs, filled with presents and bamboo containers containing rice beer and food. The chief of their village opens the procession, a spear in hand. The tribe of the groom welcomes them with songs of welcome. The father of the young groom comes behind the ribbon which delimits the entrance to his family home. Among the emis, marriage is not only the union of two people, but also the alliance of the villages of which the spouses originate. The chief of Angrung is ready to announce with his rifle the meeting of the young spouses and their respective villages. The young groom now joins the procession. He places himself just behind his future wife. He thus symbolically enters the community of his beautiful family. A ribbon symbolizes the border between the two villages. On each side, the two chiefs sell turn by turn the qualities of the married and their community. Then the chief of the boy's village cuts the symbolic ribbon. The procession now enters the tribe of the future husband under the songs of welcome, the acclamations and the congratulations of the crowd. The presents are placed in the family home. There are all kinds of things that Echecambe is proud to show us. Chickens, eggs, rice, stuffed animals. Rice. The villagers gather around this meal of marriage and share the meat of the sacrificed Mithun. Small groups of young people from Azeilo and Boloninglo gather around these dishes which symbolize union and sharing. The married and their witnesses are invited to sit in front of the placette where the dances will take place. From now on, they will no longer be able to dance because they are now entering the age group of adults. In the Emy, the dance is reserved for singles. This dance is an offering to the spirits of nature so that it protects the young couple and brings happiness and prosperity to the family they will found. The party is over. The old chief joins his people in the Aichong. At sunset, the women follow each other to the water point, a custom that is repeated at dawn as at dusk. The next day, in the village, a few men deal with it. They repair the barriers and the access ramps. The elders simply enjoy the passing of time. Some devote themselves to common interest work such as the refection of the roofs, the repair or maintenance of large ceremonial houses. The young people gather regularly for the large collective work to look for construction wood or to go fishing and hunting. A small group of teenagers return from the forest with scythes and lianas. Once cut and sawed, they will use them to fish in the rivers. Their scythes will allow them to momentarily suffocate the fish which will be much easier to capture. Despite appearances, the modern world is there. It strikes with insistence at the gates of the Emy world with its illusory dreams and its temptations. Year after year, the T-shirts and jeans are replaced by traditional clothes. Habitat is transformed and Christianity is spread. Individualism replaces the collective spirit so dear to the heritage of Rani Gandiliou. The Emy resist, however, better than others to this globalisation of lifestyles and thoughts. A globalisation that goes far beyond economic models and hits the cultural and spiritual foundations of traditional societies. The loss of these landmarks leads many family members to become alcoholics with their lot of drunkenness and sometimes violence. If women are also sensitive to the sirens of the outside world, they seem more attached to the Heraka culture. The weaving of large shawls with traditional patterns remains the activity they devote most of their free time to. They teach it to the youngest. They pass on a whole range of tradition and the identity of their tribe. At any time of the day, small groups of children gather around the elders. They listen to their advice, the stories of the past, the legends and myths that are passed on from generation to generation. The elders also tell them about the life of Rani Gandiliou, the fighter of freedom. At the end of the afternoon, the young people gather in the house of ceremonies to sing the Ekorse and Lelian songs. These collective works are frequent in the villages of Naga. They promote social ties within the same age group. One morning, not quite like the others, in the small village of Laishong. It is the day of the big cleaning and embellishment of the village. Once a month, the youngest children gather to clean the streets and alleys in a festive atmosphere. The two Angsewukis will be washed from head to toe. In this tiny nation, isolated and forgotten, a few hundred women and men from the villages above have decided to resist the forced march of the world. Every night before the full moon, they bathe their legs in white and leave their most beautiful attire. Some children anticipate this evening of prayer and dance by already taking a few steps, as if to show us what they have learned from their elders. Tonight is the full moon. Everyone gathers in the small square in front of the big house of worship. The villagers want, said Echekambe, that the memory we will keep of this stay is even stronger than the one that pushed me to return to the Emy, twenty years after our first meeting. Even if we have to wait another twenty years, he said, we will wait for your return. Then my last child will be the same age as my first today. And you will not even realize the time that has passed. Throughout the evening, the young people chain the dances of the feather, the bird, the bamboo and the flowers. It is a celebration of nature, a kind of offering to the spirits of life. Many things have changed in twenty years. Yet here, these mutations have been less brutal. Two of my accomplices from yesterday and today challenge each other amicably. They wave spears and shields in a ritual of intimidation. Everywhere, among their neighbors of Nagaland or Manipur, the temptation is great to give in to the sirens of the outside world, to the pressure of economic actors, of the bearers of new religions and of international tourism that flows into the most isolated parts of the planet. The choice, in the end, does not really exist. Things change and alter without the last tribunes having the time or the possibility to react. When folklore begins to take the place of culture and tradition, it rings the bell of the last indigenous nations. And here I am, despite myself, invited to this friendly challenge. There is no question of defying me. My clumsiness, faced with the agility of my partner, plunges me into ridicule and makes our Laishang friends laugh. The songs of love, which once girls and boys exchanged from one mountain to another, accompany the sunset. At nightfall, everyone gathers in the great house of worship. Some have fun at one of the favorite games of the Emi. Jump high enough to cling to the horn of the Mitun and hold on to it as long as possible. At Laishong, and in the middle of the forest, and in the villages at the top, the culture and the Heraka tradition are still alive. But what will these new generations, from the confessional schools, who settle one after the other at the bottom of the valley, do? This night, carried in the whirlwind of dance, the ephemeral and the eternal become accomplices. It is as if these twenty years, which separate us from our first meeting, had never been. As if time had just stopped its course to offer us this taste of eternity, so dear to those who have chosen to make their life a permanent journey.