susanne schröter Red cocks and black hens Gendered symbolism, kinship and social practice in the Ngada highlands

Ethnographic remarks

Ngada is not only the name of a regency (kabupaten) in Central Flores, one of the Lesser Sunda Islands in eastern Indonesia (Nusa Tenggara Timur), but also refers to a people numbering about 60,000 who live in the southern and central part of the regency, extending from a small coastal section along the Savu Sea up to a highland plateau more than 1,000 metres in altitude.1 With the exception of the plateau, the region is extremely rugged, cross-cut by rough gorges. Many villages are still isolated and can only be reached by footpaths. Other villages are now connected by unpaved roads and a few even by paved ones. Not only are Ngada groups scattered, often rather isolated even from one another, they also lack a precisely defined collective identity (Molnar 2000:28). The term ‘Ngada’ itself is a Dutch invention of sorts. Like many Florinese population groups, the Ngada were not subjected to colonial rule until the twentieth century. Dutch colonial policy was largely guided by the principle of non-interference, and the few military expeditions launched in the late nineteenth century in search of potential tin deposits were forced to withdraw because of protracted indigenous resistance. In the early twentieth century, however, colonial policy changed and military efforts were intensified. A discourse citing economic motives and a new ethi- cal responsibility for development issues was used to justify these early twen- tieth-century campaigns. Troops under the command of Captain Christoffel subjugated the Ngada area in 1907, and in 1909 the whole administration of

1 Muslim migrants from Sulawesi have come to settle on the northern coast, the Nage and Kéo people in the eastern part, the So’a in the west. susanne schröter is Professor of Southeast Asian Studies at the University of Passau. She took her PhD degree at the University of Mainz and her Habilitation at the University of Frankfurt. Her interests include gender studies, religion, globalization, and anthropology. She is the author of FeMale; Über Grenzverläufe zwischen den Geschlechtern, Frankfurt: Fischer, 2002, and ’Religiöse Mobilisierungen in Indonesien’, Asien 89, 2003, pp. 26-46. Professor Schröter can be contacted at: .

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Flores was reorganized and restructured into five regencies (onderafdeeling) in order to increase administrative efficacy (Dietrich 1989). One of them was the Ngada regency. The name was taken from one of the seven big clans which, according to a myth, once undertook a long journey from mainland Southeast Asia and came to settle on this particular stretch of coast. However, the Ngada people did not use this name for themselves. Even when the colo- nial administration introduced the title of raja, and a member of the Ngada clan was appointed to occupy this office, the group continued to exist as an acephalous society whereby emic group identities were constructed with reference to a local mountain, river, or other geographical feature. Anthropologists, on the other hand, sought to identify an ethnic enti- ty, using the newly created terms Nad’a (Arndt 1929), Nagdha,2 Nga’da (Djawanai 1978), and Ngada.3 Today, younger people, especially those who work as state employees or tourist guides and thus regularly have contact with outsiders, have adopted the idea of an ethnic group and have begun to speak of themselves as Ngada. Even to them, however, it is not clear which groups and areas are included under this designation. Ngada share a lot of similarities with surrounding peoples, and the boundaries circumscribing them as a group defy precise definition.4 The most striking indication of an ethnic consciousness is the great annual cycle, reba, which integrates all Ngada by virtue of a common origin and which defines core elements of culture and belief (adat) (Schröter 2000b). Since the 1910s the area has been a target of missionary activity for the Societas Verbi Divini (SVD), and today nearly 100% of the population claims to be Catholic (Piskaty 1964; Stegmaier 1974). Nevertheless, the Ngada are well known for remaining faithful to their forefathers’ customs and they take great pains to maintain their reputation as Flores’s most traditional people. Consequently, they integrated the new world religion into their local belief systems, creating new hybrid religions, which consisted partly of parallel and partly of syncretistic practices.5 The economy is based mainly on agriculture, the raising of pigs, fowl, goats, dogs, horses, and water buffaloes, and on the cultivation of - unirri gated land where maize, sweet potatoes, and dry rice are grown. Although

2 Arndt 1954, 1961, 1963; Djawanai 1983; Molnar 2000; Smedal 1994. 3 Arndt 1930; Bader 1953; Barnes 1972; Vatter 1931. 4 Andrea Molnar (2000), for example, does not regard the villages where she conducted fieldwork to be part of greater Ngada and uses the local designation Hoga Sara instead. 5 Parallel practices mean that rituals belong either entirely to the Christian context (Good Friday, Easter, Christmas) or to the local adat (rituals of the annual cycle, ‘bad death’ rituals). The term syncretistic refers to religious practices that combine cultural elements from different contexts, often adapting them or imbuing symbols and theological ideas with new interpreta- tions (Schröter 1998, 2000).

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access FLORES ALOR Ngada TIMOR Savu Sea SUMBA

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Ngada, a regency (kabupaten) in Central Flores, one of the Lesser Sunda Islands in eastern Indonesia via freeaccess Red cocks and black hens 321 the society is still self-sufficient in supplying food, modern sectors yielding cash incomes are gaining in importance. Both women and men sell food, handicrafts, and manufactured wares at markets, and men look for jobs as construction workers, carpenters, or drivers.

Social structure

Each member of the Ngada community belongs to various overlapping social, political, and ritual institutions that affect his or her status as well as providing a framework for action. Central to their system of social organiza- tion, which unites the principles of alliance and descent,6 are unilineal kin- ship groups (woé)7 and the house (sa’o). Descent groups are divided into three levels: clan, sub-clan, and lineage. A clan is a named entity that descends from a mythical pair of ancestors. It has no political or social function and serves merely as a symbolic point of reference. Members of a clan do not necessarily know each other nor do they interact. In contrast to the clan, the sub-clan is an important social unit whose members are obliged to provide mutual support. They share ceremonial obli- gations, particularly in case of death, during the annual cycle, and in ancestor worship. Each sub-clan consists of three lineages related hierarchically, each of which possesses particular ritual titles. Each of these lineages is comprised of a female and a male half, thus forming six different lineages. The highest- ranking title is called saka8 and is divided into saka pu’u, the female compo- nent, and saka lobo, the male component. Pu’u means trunk or source, and refers to the idea that women are the source of everything and that human life originates from the female body. Lobo is the tip, the offspring, the younger one.9 The lower titles are kaka and dai, split into a binary pair: kaka pu’u and

6 Drawing on the sociétés à maison model proposed by Lévi-Strauss, a number of anthropolo- gists have come to regard the house as the primary unit of social organization in Indo-Pacific societies (Carsten and Hugh-Jones 1995; Molnar 2000; Waterson 1993). I have reservations about this perspective, since it is the unilineal kinship which is most important for the Ngada, and since the Ngada clearly differentiate between alliance and descent groups, as well as between units of daily mutual assistance and descent groups. For a comparative analysis and critical discussion of this theoretical concept, see Rössler 1998. 7 Arndt (1954:189) uses cili bhou for clan, a term that is largely unknown and no longer in use today. 8 Saka, meaning ‘to climb’ or ‘to stand upright’, refers to the position of saka men while bring- ing a sacred pole called ngadhu into a village: they stand upright while the other two title groups carry the pole (Arndt 1961:483). 9 The relationship between pu’u and lobo follows the pattern of elder and younger sibling which is called ka’é-azi. It reflects social and political hierarchies and is widespread among east- ern Indonesian peoples.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access 322 Susanne Schröter kaka lobo and dai pu’u and dai lobo. Kaka and dai are classified as followers or younger siblings of saka. The focus of each of these groups is the great lineage house (sa’o méze), the lineage’s central sacred place, serving both as an ancestral shrine and a place of assembly. It is the house, even more than the sub-clan, that represents an individual’s social and emotional ties; at the same time, it constitutes the most important economic and ritual collective entity. The members of any given house cultivate its land, share in its harvest, and shoulder the primary responsibility for raising money to fund a child’s education, to finance a wed- ding ceremony, or to cover costly burial expenses.10 Membership in a clan, a lineage, or a house is always determined through the uterine (maternal) line. Genealogical continuity is transmitted only through women.11 Children, whether born in or out of wedlock, are regarded as members of the house, lineage, and clan of their mother, not of their father. As members of their mother’s kin groups, they have specific rights and obli- gations which are distinct from rights and obligations connected with their father’s kin groups. In cases of divorce or extramarital birth, fathers have no means of gaining custody of their children, as this would separate the children from their mothers and matrilineal relatives. A corollary of this mat- rilineal rule of group membership is that children born outside wedlock are accorded rights equal to those born in wedlock and are in no way subject to discrimination. Moreover, they are full members of their mother’s various kin groups, and it is tacitly known that many siblings have different genitors. Rights to land, residence, ancestral properties, and inheritance are passed on matrilineally. Only personal objects can be transferred to offspring from fathers or patrilineal relatives. The social structure gives preference to the uterine line, and within this line to female members of the kin group. Only women inherit land and houses. Mothers plant bamboo gardens not for their sons, but for their daughters, the gardens representing a major source of income once the daughters become adults. A son stays in his mother’s house until he marries, whereupon he moves in with his parents-in-law or

10 To refer to such societies Lévi-Strauss introduced the term ‘house societies’. For a critical discussion of his theory drawing on data collected in Southeast Asian societies, see Carsten and Hugh-Jones 1995; Fox 1993; Smedal 1994; Waterson 1993. 11 Despite this, the Ngada have seldom been considered a matrifocal people and there is remarkable confusion in the anthropological literature regarding Ngada kinship, their system sometimes being defined as patrilineal (Arndt 1954), sometimes as matrilineal (Bader 1951:135) or cognatic (Barnes 1972:85). Since the Ngada kinship system uses the same terms for kin descended from either the male or the female line, some anthropologists doubt if they can be called matrilineal at all. Yet the same applies to the Minangkabau. In his book on Minangkabau socio-political organization Patrick Edward de Josselin de Jong (1951:44) wrote: ‘The most strik- ing fact that emerges from the tables is that the kinship terminology so little reflects the very matriliny, and almost keeps an even bilateral balance’.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Red cocks and black hens 323 constructs a new house on his wife’s land. As part of his marital obligations he is expected to work on his wife’s fields.12 A house or lineage cannot survive without female offspring. In cases where there are no female children, genealogical continuity is formally bro- ken and the whole system is threatened. To avert such genealogical crises that would result in disappearance as a defined group, the Ngada have only one option: they must make an exception to the marriage rules, thus allowing one of their male members to marry patrilineally and reside virilocally with his wife. This kind of marriage is called pasa. It is an exceptional arrange- ment that entails an extensive exchange of valuables. In ‘ordinary’ marriages, which follow the principles of matrilineality and uxorilocality, the bride’s house receives a nominal bridewealth: a horse, a pig, or a little money. Pasa is different. The bride’s lineage demands large amounts of cash and several animals as compensation, thus turning this kind of marriage into a ruinous enterprise. Consequently, it happens rather seldom and is regarded as a measure of last resort. These precarious circumstances and their exceptional nature underscore and strengthen the matrilineal order. The matrilineal kinship system is also challenged when a man marries a woman from a patrilineal ethnic group, which sometimes happens.13 He then faces the problem that he and his wife can stay neither in his wife’s house (as this belongs to her brothers), nor in his mother’s house (as this belongs to his sisters), nor can they build their own house on his mother’s land. I observed several cases in which young couples remained with the husband’s sister or mother, a very unsatisfactory situation which caused constant trouble between the new wife and the sister or mother. In all these cases the couple after some years finally decided to move to an urban area. There, they rented a room and saved money to buy land of their own. Ngada kinship organization is embedded in a hierarchical structure of endogamous groups, in which an elite called ga’é méze occupy the top posi- tion. Ga’é can be translated as ‘noble’ (Arndt 1961:164), méze means ‘big’. In pre-colonial times the ga’é méze served as warriors, were political authorities, and took on important ritual functions. The second group in the hierarchy is known as ga’é kisa, the term kisa here meaning ‘middle’. The lowest group is comprised of former slaves (zo’o or ho’o), who are also referred to as azi ana, youngest children, or as riwu azi, young folks. Ideally members of these groups marry endogamously; a man marrying up seldom comes in for criticism, but there are sharp reprisals for a woman marrying down. This is because, according to the Ngada, it is women that are charged with keeping the blood pure, so that a transgression of group boundaries on their part

12 Additionally, they are obliged to help their mothers and sisters when support is needed. 13 Interethnic marriages are described in Schröter 1997.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Figure 1. Ngadhu (by Gabriele Hampel)

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Red cocks and black hens 325 is regarded as la’a sala, heading down the wrong path. In the past such a transgression was punishable by death, and even today women suffer public humiliation and degradation. Their descendants are forever stigmatized by low status and are underprivileged members of the kinship group.

Gendered symbols

Sub-clan ancestors, always a married couple, are represented as wooden shrines. The male shrine, ngadhu, is an anthropomorphic pole dressed in a skirt of leaves. Hidden under the skirt is a carved face. The pole’s upper end shows a second figure. Its head is adorned like a warrior’s and its hands hold a sword and a spear. The figure not only evokes virility and aggression, but is explicitly said to be that of a wild man. More than a mere symbol, the pole embodies the ancestor and is the seat of his spiritual power. On the occasion of the construction of a shrine, various animals are sacrificed, blood is shed, and a special offering is made: a piglet, a puppy, and a chick are buried alive to provide a reservoir of energy. The ngadhu needs regular offerings of rice, meat, palm gin, and blood, and on all major ritual occasions animals (chick- ens, pigs, and water buffaloes) are sacrificed at the pole. The most prestigious of these is the buffalo, which is regarded as men’s alter ego,14 reflecting men’s masculine strength. The buffalo is the only domestic or semi-domestic animal that occasionally kills its owner, a trait it shares with real warriors. Further underscoring the buffalo’s association with fierce masculinity, Ngada elders also stress its lecherous nature. According to oral histories, beasts in the past would change into men during the night and seduce their owners’ wives or daughters. An animal with such prowess cannot simply be butchered in the ordinary manner, but must be sacrificed at thengadhu in a prescribed, highly ceremonial fashion. The ancestor as a ngadhu resembles the buffalo in several ways. In addi- tion to being an aggressive warrior, he is also a rapist, an attribute expressed in the construction ceremony. Building a new ngadhu is men’s work. An oracle leads them to the right tree, and after certain rituals of protection they cut and carve it. Singing and dancing, they bring the figure to the ceremo- nial place. From the moment they enter the village the women and girls are expected to hide inside their houses and lock the doors. They are not allowed to perceive the unbound masculine energy that has entered the village; it is feared that the ancestor’s ghost might hunt them down and rape them. The

14 Arndt (1929:837) writes about buffaloes appearing in dreams as manifestations of the human soul. For an extended analysis of buffalo metaphors among the neighbouring Nage, see Forth 1998:163.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Figure 2. Bhaga (by Gabriele Hampel)

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Red cocks and black hens 327 consequences of such an incorporeal sexual act are illness and even death. In the early phases of ngadhu construction the forbear is not only reduced in his physical representation to a phallus, but also symbolizes pure masculinity: aggression and sexuality. The female sub-clan shrine, bhaga, is the ngadhu’s counterpart. It is shaped like a little house, big enough for one or two people to sit inside and perform rituals for the female ancestor after whom the bhaga is named. Like every sacred object, it is given offerings of blood; but contrary to the ngadhu, this is not done in a specifically sacrificial manner. The bhaga symbolizes female spiritual power, the shelter of the house, the clan’s origin in the female body, and the value of the kinship group. Architecturally, bhaga are not miniature representations of a house in its entirety, but of the oné sa’o, the most sacred inner part of a great house (sa’o méze). Ngada great houses are comprised of three parts: an outer veranda (téda mo’a), a more or less public space, an inner veranda (téda oné) which is more private, and a kitchen (oné sa’o) which is the spiritual centre. The oné sa’o is separated from the inner veranda by a door and a little winged stairway, both beautifully adorned with carvings that show buffaloes, horses, and chickens. The stairway,kawa pére, is a sacred object and marks the transition from profane to sacred space. The oné sa’o is dominated by the hearth (lapu), feminine space par excellence, since cooking is women’s work. Furthermore it is a place of transformation and of passage to other worlds. In the event of a death caused by ghosts or black magic, it is said that the hearthstones must be broken (da lika da lia) and evil forces driven back across the border into the next world. It is in the oné sa’o that the ancestors have resting places, that sacrifices are made, and that lineage elders gather when important decisions are to be made. As the main lineage temple, this is the place where many rituals are performed and all sacred objects are stored: the ceremonial sword (sau ga’é), the sacred digging stick (su’a tana), a special gourd filled with gin (bhoka tua), and the powerful sacred woven cloth, lawo butu. To understand the whole system of kinship, gender, and space one must know the difference between an ordinary kitchen and anoné sa’o, between an ordinary house (sa’o dhoro) and a great house (sa’o méze). As described above, each lineage is related to a sa’o méze, a ceremonial house with a specific name. By mentioning this name people know exactly where they come from and to whom they are related by marriage. A sa’o méze is also a ceremonial site where the whole lineage gathers on specific occasions: when important things are to be discussed, decisions made, or a ritual celebrated. It embodies an ancestral heritage shared by the lineage as a whole. In daily life, however, it is occupied by a smaller group. Usually a woman takes charge of it from her mother and stays there with her aging parents, her husband, and their children, sometimes a maternal uncle or aunt, and several unmarried sib-

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access 328 Susanne Schröter lings. Married sisters of this female heir build their own houses on matrilin- eal land; her brothers live with their wives. The newly built houses are called sa’o dhoro and are very different from the ceremonial sa’o méze: they are just ordinary dwellings without ritual paraphernalia and sacred carvings. Most of them are constructed as bamboo huts or ordinary stone houses. Sa’o méze are not only meeting places, temples, and living rooms but embodiments of lineages. Here, gender symbolism reflects the matrilineal kinship structure: a representation of the uterus serves as the symbolic locus for female reproductive capacities15 and matrilineal descent. Being part of the wider kinship structure, sa’o méze differ according to their position within the lineage division. Such differences are also visible with regard to the installation of sacred objects. Saka pu’u and saka lobo houses are distinguished by miniatures on the roof. Pu’u is symbolically represented by another little house, comparable to thebhaga though much smaller, which is set on the roof. It is further distinguished by stylized hair pins fixed on each end of the roof, which are called ana lié, a term that refers both to female genitalia and to a firstborn child. Thelobo house is adorned by a little human figureata ( sa’o, man of the house) that holds a spear in one hand and a sword in the other and thus resembles the ngadhu. Generally, the symbolism of Ngada architec- ture is reminiscent of Freudian motifs: phallus and womb. Interestingly, the feminine is represented by repeated references to the house which manifests itself as the bhaga and the ana lié. Anthropomorphic images do not occur.16 Unlike the ngadhu-bhaga dyad, which is not explicitly hierarchical, the categories pu’u and lobo are. The connotation of pu’u as trunk or source refers both to the feminine as the origin of life and to the first-comer status of the title group.17 Identified as the feminine it is simply complementary tothe masculine, but when it is used to designate the prime group it does imply hierarchy. This resembles the distinction made between so-called wife-giv- ers and wife-receivers common to many Indonesian societies18 in which the former are regarded as superior to the latter and receive more valuable gifts in marriage exchange. However, among the contemporary Ngada one can hardly speak of the giving or receiving of wives since it is the men who move. Cecilia Ng (1993:136), analysing the Minangkabau, describes the marriage system as an exchange of men, and the same can be said of the Ngada.

15 Aroki (2003:132), De Jong (1998b), and Yamaguchi (1989) show a similar association of the house with the female body among the Lio of Central Flores. Howell (2002) stresses its androgy- nous aspect and analyses it as a manifestation of the brother/sister relation. 16 This is different from the Lio where the sacred house sa’o ria is adorned with breasts and various parts of it are identified as parts of the female body (Yamaguchi 1989:481). 17 The motif of ‘origin’, ‘first-coming’, and ‘precedence’ is prominent among Indonesian soci- eties (Fox 1988; Lewis 1988; Molnar 2000; Traube 1986). 18 Erb 1991; Forth 1981; Schulte-Nordholt 1971; Traube 1986.

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Authority

Ngada matrilineal structure privileges women while the symbolic order stresses gender complementarity with a slight preference for positions that are identified with the feminine. Descent and the symbolic order as revealed in the architecture of houses and shrines, however, do not allow us to draw simple conclusions about gender hierarchy in the sphere of daily activity or about gender roles. I now turn to aspects of life that run counter to this struc- ture and favour men: the assignment of authority, of political leadership, of representation, and of knowledge. The powerful role of brothers and mother’s brothers in matrilineal soci- eties has been widely described in the anthropological literature.19 What Malinowski (1953) wrote about the Trobrianders is also true of the Ngada: matrilineage and clan are dominated by men — at least to a certain extent. I qualify this general tendency because of a lack of formal offices other than the mosa laki, the traditional village chief, and the kepala desa, the modern equivalent of a village mayor. Simple observation indicates that men domi- nate public gatherings and negotiations on land rights, ritual matters, and marriage alliances. Often men sit together and discuss political issues while women cook and serve them coffee, gin, and food. It also seems that men’s voices have more weight than women’s, and that they make the final deci- sions. From this point of view one might conclude that with respect to politi- cal authority and decision-making, Ngada society is male-dominated. But this is only partially true. Despite the fact that public gatherings are definitely dominated by men and that people view public speaking as a masculine activity, there is no rule that women should not speak out. It is not forbidden for them to sit down with men and speak their minds. When I have observed them in fact doing so, women participated as full members of the assembly. I never saw a man ignore a woman’s speech or treat it with less respect. On the contrary, women who are self-confident gain high renown and are treated as equals. Yet the majority of women do not take on prominent roles. This seems to be due to custom and the widely accepted idea of femininity entailing public shyness, lack of self-assertiveness, and responsibility for kitchen affairs. One can differentiate between public debates where men sit in front of a house, and more ‘private’ ones where gatherings take place in the oné sa’o. On the lineage level the dichotomy between speaking men and mute women does not hold, and elder women in particular speak out loudly and decisive- ly. Their opinion cannot be said to be marginal and they have great influence

19 An extended analysis of dominance by brothers, mother’s brothers, and husbands in mat- rilineal societies is found in Schlegel 1972.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access 330 Susanne Schröter on all decisions pertaining to the affairs of their kin group. According to the Ngada gender ideal, men should not make decisions without consulting the women of the house. Harmony is a highly valued creed and the principle of consensus plays an integral part in all negotiations. The result is that women are involved in discussions and influence decisions, even if in public meet- ings they seem to have a marginal role. Men’s prominent role in public gatherings is often rationalized with refer- ence to their ‘knowledge’,20 a culturally defined category. Ngada differenti- ate between a sort of ‘high’ knowledge that defines a person’s renown as an expert, and everyday knowledge. Expert knowledge includes genealogical issues, the history of particular places, lineage rights of entitlement, and ritual matters. All these kinds of knowledge are attributed to men. They are the ones who are traditional priests; they sacrifice and speak ritual verses.21 When an anthropologist investigating kinship structures asks to meet acknowledged experts, the only people introduced as experts are men. Accidentally, I dis- covered that these ascriptions do not reflect real capabilities. When I walked with my male assistant22 through several Ngada villages in order to collect genealogies and ask about marriage practices, we sometimes did not encoun- ter any men. The only people at home were women busy with housework. My assistant would then advise me to conduct the interviews later since the women would not know anything. The women themselves confirmed this. When at the third village we still failed to find any acknowledged male experts, I suggested we try asking the women who were home some ques- tions . Was it not after all better to gain even a tiny bit of information than end the day having learnt nothing at all? My assistant reluctantly agreed, and we spoke to the next group of women we encountered. Surprisingly, their knowledge was detailed, profound, and much more comprehensive than the information provided by any of the men I had spoken to. Encouraged by this experience, I conducted an interview with the women at the house next door. I met with the same result. So I continued my experiment, realizing that the pervasive idea that women’s knowledge was poor was merely rhetoric and not reality. Indeed, quite the opposite was true. The reason for this is to be found in the practical realities of matrilineal and uxorilocal social organiza- tion. From birth, women live in a particular house and in a particular village,

20 The term here refers exclusively to so-called traditional knowledge, since school knowl- edge or knowledge which is needed in the modern sector (education, medicine, tourism, or construction of roads and buildings) is not relevant here. 21 The verses have a complicated structure, use a great variety of metaphors, and cannot fully be understood by non-experts. A comparative compendium on this issue has been edited by Fox 1988. 22 Since my area of interest was locally considered to be a domain of male expertise, working with a female assistant was regarded as totally inadequate.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Red cocks and black hens 331 so they know everything, every illegitimate love affair, the circumstances of every marriage, every case of migration, every negotiation, and every scandal. They have grown up with the history of their lineage and of the other lineages in their village. They have participated in discussions on alliance-building and on land rights traced back to ancestral times; they are informed about all the manipulations of kinship and ranking. They have lived their whole lives with all the other women in the village, they are related to most of them, and they participate in daily gossip about communal affairs. They have no choice but to be experts. Men, on the contrary, are husbands or brothers of women in the village. As husbands they are strangers, and have to make great efforts to gain access to even a little knowledge. In the end, what they are told is usually limited to the ‘official’ version, and so they are unable to explain inconsisten- cies. Their grasp of a given matter lacks historical depth and their knowledge is generally rather narrow. For brothers it is different. They know stories from their childhood, and as members of their sisters’ lineages they are engaged in kinship affairs. However, after marriage they do not live in the house or even in the village. They stay with their wives and tend not to be entirely up to date on matters back home; and particularly if they live far away, their knowledge fades. No wonder that neither a brother’s nor a husband’s expertise can com- pare with that of a woman. Despite all these circumstances, both men and women ascribe to the preconception that men have genealogical knowledge and women do not. The contrast between the perception of women as ignorant and their actual capabilities is well known in anthropology and has led to speculation regarding the degree to which male dominance is the product of women’s consent.23 However, the Ngada do not think explicitly in terms of domina- tion, but rather view gender separation and the corresponding assignments of specific responsibilities to be a gender habitus. A similar phenomenon in which articulated and tacit knowledge differ has been described by Peggy Reeves Sanday in her work among the Minangkabau. Sanday observed that while women did perform rituals they did not speak about their activities. She writes: ‘Watching women perform adat, I realized that they had little interest in the logos of adat. Classifying adat, talking about adat, and recit- ing adat lore was the province of men. Women’s work lay in the practice of adat.’ (Sanday 2002:82.) Unlike the case of Papuan secret knowledge in

23 Lewis Langness (1967:174) believed this to be so when he discovered that Gimi women in Papua New Guinea knew about men’s sacred myths, and Gilbert Herdt (1981:317) who worked with the Sambia differentiated between ‘screaming secrets and whispering secrets’. The phe- nomenon of women’s hidden knowledge and whether their not knowing is merely a claim has been widely discussed by Oceanists. An overview is given in Schröter 1994:85-8. Klaus Müller (1989:332), comparing female and male worldviews in general, argues that women have inter- nalized the male point of view and confirm it officially even if they know it is not true.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access 332 Susanne Schröter which women were under considerable pressure to hide their knowledge, Minangkabau and Ngada women have simply internalized the idea that they are not responsible for certain kinds of knowledge. Thus, they direct inter- ested outsiders like anthropologists to men. Only in informal discussions on genealogical issues do women volunteer relevant information, even criticiz- ing men if they make mistakes. Ritual knowledge is not explicitly linked to kinship structure.24 It consists of ritual speech and ritual performances, including offerings to the ancestors and sacrifices of animals, and is primarily transmitted in the male line from elder to younger men. Priests teach young men, but young men also learn by participating in ceremonies. Most great ceremonies such as mortuary rites or rituals of the annual cycle are performed exclusively by men. Although women may dance in some contexts, they are usually responsible for doing the cooking, or they watch the performances as spectators. The most compli- cated parts of these ceremonies are ritual speeches, an extended set of songs, incantations, prayers, and mythological references; all this is specialists’ knowledge. Thus, even if one takes into consideration that women do catch some information when they attend rituals, they are excluded from active participation and from the systematic transmission of ritual knowledge. An exception to this tendency is medical knowledge. Women can become healers just as men can, and there are even special kinds of medicine that belong exclusively or primarily to the realm of women. Such is the profession of midwife and a certain kind of magic healing called ru’u, a double-edged magical power which can induce illness but is primarily used for healing. Although according to Ngada folktales ru’u is not gendered, the only practi- tioners I encountered were women. A more important factor than gender, in a person’s status as traditional expert, is age. It is the eldest generation25 that holds leadership functions, whether in the house, the lineage, the clan, or the village. It is thought that the eldest generation has the experience necessary to make the right deci- sions. In ritual matters, it is seen as preferable that experts are past the age of fertility, since contact with evil spirits may harm unborn offspring. As an elder, a woman can command the respect of young persons of both sexes for her role as expert. This pattern of seniority conflicts with patterns of modern elite-building. The elders of today received a poor education and can often write no more than their name. The younger generation is much better prepared for the challenges of the twenty-first century, and many children of peasant origin

24 This is different when ceremonial obligations and rights are related to a specific group that is charged with performing rites and reciting ritual verses. 25 This applies to people who are vital and healthy. Status does decline when physical and mental decay set in.

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Laziness and the rebellion of young husbands

The ‘difference approach’ within gender studies avoids essentialism and stresses the fact that neither men nor women form a monolithic gender group, but rather differ widely in age, family status, and particular roles performed in specific social settings.26 This is also true for the Ngada. Mother and grandmother, maternal or paternal aunt, wife, daughter and daughter- in-law, sister and sister-in-law are distinct gender roles, as are the roles of husband, maternal or paternal uncle, father, son and son-in-law, grandfather, nephew, brother and brother-in-law. None of these roles are mere reflections of gender ideals as expressed in the symbolic order, but stress patience, a sense of harmony, humour, helpfulness, and sociability. The most precarious male role among the Ngada is that of a young hus- band. Ideally, a good husband embodies qualities that are just the opposite of the masculine ideal as expressed in the symbolism of ngadhu and the buf- falo. Women appreciate men who are friendly, hard-working, ready to help neighbours, who take care of their children and their relatives, and do not gamble or drink. Generally, a husband is expected to contribute to his wife’s lineage in several ways. From the first moment of courtship, after a man has introduced himself to a girl’s parents, he tries to demonstrate his qualities as a good son-in-law. He fetches firewood, provides food for daily meals, feeds the animals, repairs buildings, tools and fences, and sometimes even brings water from the spring to the village (fetching water is considered to be wom- en’s work). His behaviour is amiable, friendly, and patient. Put bluntly, a lazy guy would not be considered an acceptable groom. After marriage the son-in-law is supposed to continue supporting his new family. Fields have to be cleared, fences built, and stables repaired. If his wife is not the heir to the sa’o méze, he has to construct a new dwelling for his nuclear family. Additionally, it has recently come to be regarded as respect- able if he finds a job as a bus driver, a carpenter, or in road construction, and thus earns an income. This is the ideal.

26 See Ortner and Whitehead (1981), who worked on the cross-cultural construction of female roles as mothers, sisters, and daughters, or Lacoste-Dujardin (1986), who cited the relationship between a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law as the most antagonistic and hostile social rela- tionship in North African societies.

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The reality is different, and a young man’s integration into his wife’s house is not always successful. Husbands often do not feel comfortable in their new role; they miss their family and neighbours and begin to spurn all the expectations mentioned above. Some do nothing but hang out with friends the whole day, drink too much, and try to seduce young women from neighbouring villages. Others work as day-labourers, but instead of bringing the money home they waste it on alcohol, cigarettes, and gambling. Thus, many women are left to work their fields alone, with only their children, parents, and siblings for support. In the evening the husbands come home, sometimes drunk or accompanied by friends, and wait for their evening meal. The wives care for the children and the animals, wash the dishes, and prepare the food, while the husbands carry on drinking and gambling. Men who behave in such a manner are criticized by their wives’ relatives and by neighbours, particularly by elder women.27 Their behaviour is not approved of. However, the disapproval does not impress them much. On the contrary, it often causes an awkward counter-reaction, with men sometimes even vanishing for a while. I observed several such cases and was astonished that they did not result in scandal. After a time I understood that the rebellious young men were acting according to a familiar cultural pattern. Generations of men have gone through the transformation from hard-working groom to lazy husband soon after mar- riage. This is grounds for anger and sharp-tongued gossip but not for despera- tion. People are so used to this phenomenon that I got the impression they were surprised if a husband did keep up his good behaviour after marriage. I regard this type of postmarital masculinity to be a form of male rebellion against matrifocal structures and symptomatic of a gender dilemma stem- ming mainly from uxorilocality. Men do not like to have to move. They do not question that they must – custom is taken for granted – but they suffer, especially if their home village is far away or, even worse, if they come from another ethnic group. I remember a young man from a patrilineal group who when drunk told me that he wished his wife would die so that he could return to his parents’ house. He was a rebel par excellence, and when he walked through the village the neighbours would whisper behind his back. After some years he mellowed out visibly. Every son his wife bore made him more a real member of his new family, and when she was pregnant the fourth time he got a job in the capital as a carpenter. He left the house for work every morning without fail, and returned in the evening with bags full of food. The last time I visited him, in the summer of 2002, he had become the household’s main breadwinner and one of the most respected people in the village.

27 Young wives do not participate in this gossip. Custom demands they maintain a degree of loyalty to their husbands, even if the latter have disappointed them.

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Such a change is not unusual; after a period of defiance the majority of men become good husbands. Their phase of deviant behaviour is not considered to reflect adversely on their masculinity nor is it generalized to a wider discourse on male laziness. Unlike the situation in Negri Sembilan where Michael Peletz (1995:97) analysed a female discourse on the poor performance of men as husbands, in Ngada neither women nor men would argue that men are less responsible with regard to household and family affairs. Male failure as hus- bands is always discussed as an individual problem of a particular man and everybody hopes that his behaviour will soon right itself.

Women as man-hunters

The young man who fantasized about his wife’s death felt himself to be a victim of female marriage strategies. He had come to the Ngada hills as a contract worker and engaged in several love affairs with Ngada women. One of them later became his wife. In the course of the relationship she got pregnant and realized she had fallen in love with him. So she decided that her lover should become her husband. He himself was not pleased about this. He enjoyed his freedom and had not intended to get married any time soon. However, a pregnancy is a serious matter. It confronts a man not only with moral demands but with financial ones as well. According to Ngada ways, a man who is responsible for a pregnancy has two options. The first is to pay compensation (waja); the second is to marry and to pay the bridewealth. The amount owed is often the same for both options. If negotiations end in agree- ment that there is to be a marriage, the money is considered an investment in the expansion of the family’s social network. In the case of waja the money is simply lost. Understandably, a man’s relatives are quite reluctant to sup- port the latter solution. He therefore faces the situation of being under pres- sure from both sides: his girlfriend’s relatives on the one hand, and his own family on the other. The story of the young man mentioned above was even more complicated. His pregnant lover followed him to his home village and presented herself to his mother. The man, fearing the confrontation, hid at a friend’s place, and the woman had a lot of time to discuss everything with her future mother-in-law, after which she returned to the Ngada hills. On a second visit some weeks later, she was accompanied by her brother. Financial demands were made, whereupon the young man’s relatives gathered: his father, his uncles, and his brothers. They heard that the woman came from a well-known, influential family, that she had an impressive number of brothers and uncles, and that they were all prepared to act with determination. Not a chance that anyone was going to simply forget about this liaison. A boy was sent to search for the fugitive lover and at last he came to his father’s house.

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It was decided to begin bridewealth negotiations. The man agreed and finally returned with his lover, now his wife, to her mother’s house. Several months after the child was born, the two parties reached an agreement on the amount of goods to be exchanged. A traditional ritual sealed the agreement and the marriage was completed according to the rules of custom. In all this, the husband felt trapped, and he expressed this. When I asked him to allow me to do a film interview about his life, he agreed immediately and used this opportunity to tell everybody that he had never intended to marry his wife. We shot the film on the outer veranda, where we were sur- rounded by all the members of the household and a lot of curious neighbours. What he said was shameful for his relatives and particularly for his wife. He spoke unabashedly of his love affairs, presented himself as a natural-born womanizer, and gave a detailed account of how the accident leading to his marriage had happened. Everybody was shocked and his wife did not say a word to him for more than a week. Although the angry young man’s performance was not approved of and was offensive to his family-in-law, many could understand his rude behav- iour to some degree. He spoke in terms of a widespread Ngada discourse in which men are seen as deer and women as hunters. Women and girls joke without inhibition about sexuality and play an initiating role in match-mak- ing. For women, to bear an illegitimate child is no cause for shame, and many women are mothers before they get married. Pregnancy is mainly a problem for men. They are confronted with demands for compensation, while women stand to benefit. Consequently, women use their fertility to pressure men into becoming their husbands. Very often the turn of events is exactly as that described above: a woman gets pregnant, talks to her lover’s mother while her brothers threaten with high financial demands. The man accepts his fate, becomes a husband, goes through a phase of rebellion, and then, finally, set- tles into his new household. From a missionary’s point of view the division of labour among the Ngada reveals a tremendous gender imbalance. I did not conduct a sin- gle interview in which Catholic priests did not mention the exploitation of Ngada women and their own efforts in women’s liberation, or at least attempts to instil a modern Catholic gender ethic. All this centred primarily on the gendered division of labour. Indeed, the difference between a man’s and a woman’s burden is enormous. To give an impression I shall sketch a typical daily schedule. In the morning, women light the fire in the kitchen, boil water, make coffee, prepare breakfast, and care for the small children and animals, while men sit down, drink, eat, and smoke cigarettes. Cleaning the house, washing dishes, and doing laundry (which is heavy labour) is also women’s work. They fetch water, often from far-away springs, and one can see them carrying thirty-litre canisters uphill. Even when they are pregnant,

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Red cocks and black hens 337 they continue to do arduous labour, and it does not seem to occur to men to offer to help. The most extreme case I encountered was a man who, instead of washing himself at the spring, urged his wife to carry all the water for his bath to the house. At noon and in the evening women prepare food again. They are the first to get up in the morning and the last to go to bed at night. And this is just the housework. Outside the home women also work in the fields, planting, weeding, and harvesting. When the sun goes down, they are seen bearing sacks of sweet potatoes on their backs, firewood on their heads, vegetables in bags hanging from their shoulders, and often carrying a baby on their hips. The way home is sometimes more than an hour’s walk up and down the steep hills. It is a strange sight when a man accompanies a heavily burdened woman while he is sitting on horseback or walking beside her, car- rying not more than his bush knife. Although not all men are lazy, and not all women are equally industri- ous, labour is clearly a locus of gender inequality. Everyday work is pre- dominantly a matter for women; they may try to delegate some of the tasks to children, particularly older girls or unmarried young women, but the essential tasks of daily life are seldom men’s work. Instead, men are respon- sible for such things as the clearing of new land, digging, house construction, and the repair of buildings. All these tasks are seasonal or occasional. The consequences of such a division of labour are obvious: women age quickly, they look dirty and untidy, while men stay young, take care of their outward appearance, and sometimes behave like true narcissists. However, I must qualify the picture just drawn and point out that it per- tains mainly to the traditional sector. Involvement in the modern economy makes a huge difference. Men who earn money as labourers in road construc- tion, or as drivers or carpenters, do not have the leisure time that full-time farmers enjoy. On the contrary, in addition to their job, they are still respon- sible for ‘male’ tasks at home, so their total work load increases enormously. Their wives, on the other hand, benefit from this outside income and reduce their own labour. They buy food at the local market and leave the exhausting fieldwork to day-labourers. These women emulate the idea of the modern housewife that is presented on national television. They attach importance to fashion and cleanliness – which is not easy in a village that is either dusty or muddy – go shopping in the capital, and take great care of their clothing and that of their children. Consequently, they can easily be distinguished from their neighbours. Becoming such a ‘modern housewife’ is an ideal on the one hand and a debated issue on the other. Some of my interlocutors were well aware that a woman who depends so much on her husband will lose her economic autonomy. ‘If she is used to living on her husband’s income, what will she do if he leaves her?’ was a major concern. Such statements show that

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The big shift: historicizing Ngada kinship and gender relations

Indigenous societies are not static entities. Trade, conquest, and migration have always challenged the established order and triggered political, social, and economic changes. Anthropologists in particular are confronted with the impact of colonialism, and the way it dramatically changed local institutions, customs, rights, and rules. This also holds true for the Ngada, whose trans- formation can be traced thanks to the documentation of Paul Arndt (1954:50), which describes the Ngada as primarily patrilineal and much more virifocal than the people I met in the 1990s. Arndt’s depiction corroborates the stories my informants told me about their past and the stories that are retold in ritual texts and certain myths; it also fits with the symbolic representation of the woé, which shows a male ancestor and his wife. Clearly, there has been a shift in social organization from patrilineality to matrilineality and from virilocality to uxorilocality in the last fifty years. This change was embedded in and resulted from the complete breakdown of socio-political structures under the influence of colonial rule, a breakdown that also affected gender ideals. Pre-colonial Ngada society29 was a society of warriors. War was endemic, and people built their villages on high slopes from which approaching enemies could be seen at a great distance and from which aggressors could be more easily held at bay. Stone walls surrounded the settlements, many of which could only be entered by stairs or even lad- ders. Fields and springs were often far away and the daily walk arduous and dangerous. It was men’s duty to watch over the women and prevent them from being assaulted. It was due to such circumstances, I was told, that Ngada men carried nothing but weapons, needing to be ready at all times to combat danger. They also travelled on horseback while women walked.30 At that time, society was much more stratified than today, and bounda- ries between groups were maintained by a rigid legal code. For example, according to my informants, when rules of endogamy were transgressed the violators were severely punished. Or, if a high-ranking girl or woman was

28 The divorce rate is very low, but sometimes men migrate temporarily to other islands, sometimes even to Malaysia or to Brunei, and do not send any money. 29 The following reconstruction of the past is primarily based on personal communication with informants and my analysis of ceremonial sequences that are related to war. 30 Intercultural comparisons have shown that this pattern is widespread among people who live under conditions of endemic warfare. Similar gender differences have been discovered among Melanesian and Amazonian peoples (Chagnon 1977; Heider 1970).

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Red cocks and black hens 339 accused of having sexual relations with a low-ranking boy or man, both were ritually killed.31 The male ideal was a noble wartime leader, a man who behaved violently and aggressively, and who expanded his influence through marriage allianc- es. ‘Big men’ practiced polygamy, acquiring women by giving gifts of water buffaloes and large amounts of gold. A big man was a man who hadthe economic power to pay for one or more wives. Only poor men married matri- lineally and stayed at the house of their parents-in-law until the bridewealth was paid. Children who were born during this time belonged to their moth- er’s lineage. Some men were never able to pay for their bride, and such mar- riages remained matrilineal and uxorilocal forever. Yet such an outcome was deemed a failure for a man, leading to low status (Arndt 1954:54). When Dutch rule was established, the state of endemic warfare ended. ‘Big men’ lost the opportunity to increase their wealth though plunder and the collection of tribute. The death penalty was forbidden and the dividing line between status groups became blurred. Slavery was no longer allowed, and big men could no longer exploit their followers. The result was that on the one hand the elite saw an enormous decrease in their power, while on the other hand the population at large experienced an opening up of the socio- political structure. At the same time, a new value system developed as a result of evangelization. Within a few decades the Ngada became Christians and accepted monogamy.32 Although the patriarchal culture eroded, the group of big men did not vanish immediately but rather gradually. First, pacification resulted in a new set of power attributes. Instead of leading raids, big men began to raise large herds of pigs and buffaloes. Wealth was invested in animals and these became the new markers of status. It is well documented and still remem- bered vividly that shortly after the Dutch conquest a period began during which people slaughtered dozens of pigs and water buffaloes in great cer- emonies (Arndt 1963:70; Daeng 1988; Schröter 2000a:204). The more sacrifices the greater the renown of a man, a lineage, or a village. Feasts were praised if meat was so plentiful that people could not finish eating it, that even the dogs were full and the carcasses rotted away. Buffalo horns and pig’s jaws were hung on verandas, as commemorative objects displaying the affluence of the house to subsequent generations. This period of conspicuous consumption came to an end in the 1970s. According to my informants’ accounts, the Ngada became poor. Money was

31 They showed me the place where the last zo’o transgressor was hung from a tree and then speared to death. The girl was thrown into a ravine. Arndt (1954:514) cites a similar case. 32 However, in the old times men did develop a culture of adultery and boasting of their numerous sexual affairs.

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Gender complementarity: indigenous discourse and a western analytical model

Classifying Ngada gender relationships makes it easy to suggest that kinship structure privileges women, while political and ritual structures favour men. This fits in well with western discourse on power. Recalling the prevalence of labour inequality, one might be led to believe that women are regarded as something akin to a ‘second sex’ as proposed in a European context by Simone de Beauvoir. The Ngada, however, neither share this western emphasis on the division of labour, nor do they agree with such interpreta- tions. Indigenous discourse stresses equality, even in cases where westerners would fail to see it. I shall clarify this point by examining the issue of ritual activities. I have already mentioned that men are regarded as the experts in ritual. They know how to recite the verses; they sacrifice, fight against evil spirits, play sacred instruments, and perform most of the ritual activities. In a few ceremonies women dance and sing, but in most they are restricted to their main task: cooking rice for the meals. My interlocutors — men and women — explained how important rice was for the whole ceremony. There was no doubt that they considered the women’s role to be equal to that of the men.33 Gender equality is an undisputed maxim of Ngada culture. ‘Different but equal’ is their standard argument, and they stress that difference itself is the reason why neither should dominate the other. Men are responsible for meat, women for rice; men act in the outer sphere, women in the inner one; men’s handicrafts are related to wood, women’s to cloth; men are associated with war, women with peace. Symbolically men are manu toro, red cocks, and women lalu mite, black hens; female ancestors stand beside male ances- tors, the earth goddess Nitu is invoked in the same prayer as Déva, god of the heavens, and the Virgin Mary has at least the same importance as Jesus.

33 The importance of cooking rice among the Ngada fits with a similar pattern that Monica Janowski (1995) discovered among the Kelabit of Sarawak.

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Living in harmony — and this is the ultimate goal of everything in society — is only possible when opposing elements of a pair are in balance. Southeast Asian societies are well known for gender symmetry in the symbolic order. It was Jan Petrus de Josselin de Jong (1935) who first com- pared the complementary thinking of different societies and judged it to be a phenomenon widespread throughout the area. However different these societies were, many of them34 shared the same assumption that the universe is constructed as a set of pairs of opposites (hot/cold, seaside/mountain- side, autochthonous people/migrants, wife-givers/wife-receivers, and so on), which often are comprised of a male and a female half. In eastern Indonesian anthropology this has been widely investigated with reference to political and ritual power and to marriage alliances.35 The creation of gendered pairs of title-groups among the Ngada is a manifestation of this system. The fact that a society has this kind of inner order, however, does not in itself imply equality or equivalence between men and women. The Timorese concept of a division of power into a male- and a female-identified part, for example, does not mean that women occupy powerful positions, but rather that a certain kind of male power is symbolically feminized.36 The same is true of the division of alliance partners into wife-givers and wife-receivers or the symbolic classification of marriage prestations as male or female goods. Such symbolic categorizations, however, do not necessarily reflect social or political relationships between men and women. In patrilineal and virilocal societies they are simply abstract models, irrelevant to social practice. Here we find conditions that unequivocally legitimize and strengthen male power. Women are not seen as subjects but as objects of exchange and alliance, while their symbolic power is appropriated by men. The people of Ngada are different, mainly because they are matrilineal and uxorilocal. The current system exhibits a division of power into male and female spheres, a complementary symbolic order, an indigenous discourse on gender equivalence, and a remarkably privileged position for women in kinship structures. In summing up, I shall discuss the material presented above with reference to a theoretical approach proposed by Ilse Lenz and Ute Luig (1990), who have developed a model to describe non-patriarchal, gen- der-egalitarian, and gender-symmetric societies. Ilse Lenz points out that in gender-egalitarian societies women occupy a strong position in four strategic

34 This pertains particularly to ‘exchange societies’ of eastern Indonesia and Sumatra, which contrast with ‘centrist societies’, a distinction drawn in the comparative analysis of Shelly Errington and Jane Monning Atkinson (1990). 35 Forth 1981; Fox 1980, 1988; Kohl 1996; Lewis 1988; McKinnon 1991. 36 See Fox 1982, who analysed a system of divided power with reference to a leader who was responsible for military activities and a leader who controlled ritual power. The latter repre- sented the ritual and spiritual spheres and was symbolized as female. Both persons were men.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access 342 Susanne Schröter fields: production, reproduction and sexuality, politics, and the symbolic and religious order (Lenz and Luig 1990:39). I have added kinship as a further field of analysis. An investigation of Ngada society with respect to these fields shows that in Lenz’s model it fits perfectly with the non-patriarchal society. Women not only have access to the means of production but also own both land and houses. Their economic base is extraordinarily strong, and so they are not dependent on men. This must be kept in mind when discussing the hardship of women’s labour. Economically, rural women are a rather homogeneous group. Men, however, can be positioned variously as maternal brothers or as husbands. Husbands clearly work under conditions of dependency. They are expected to work for their wives’ lineages, but they neither gain rights to the houses they build nor do they have rights over the agricultural products they grow. Thus, in the context of a kinship-based rural economy, women enjoy economic autonomy, while men have a more ambiguous position, being on the one hand dependent in the role of husband, but quite power- ful in their role as maternal brothers. However, this situation is subject to change if land is sold and couples move to urban areas where they live off the husband’s income. A similar development that has already occurred among the Minangkabau can provide insight into what such a trend toward a male-dominated family structure would look like. Generally, female-centred economies are challenged by modern labour practices. Even if one takes into consideration that women often earn an income by selling food or weavings or by obtaining employment as office workers or teachers, the modern econo- my privileges men. It is easier for men to get a job, and men’s jobs usually pay higher wages than women’s jobs. A rising middle class thus shows a remark- able trend that increasingly relegates women to the non-productive sector. This development runs parallel with the idea that women should primarily be mothers and housewives, a notion supported by state policies and the media.37 These ideas, together with the introduction of wage labour and the move from lineage land to urban areas, often reduces women to housewives and weakens their formerly strong economic position, while at the same time creating a new position for males as household heads. The issue of reproduction and sexual self-determination is surrounded by contradicting discourses and inconsistencies between ideal and practice. When I came to the Ngada hills for the first time and asked about these issues, informants voiced the quintessential standards of Catholic morality: no sex before or outside of marriage, strict monogamy for men and women,

37 The discourse pertaining to domestic affairs has been analysed by Blackwood 1995:135. For a similar phenomenon among the Minangkabau, see Benda-Beckmann 1985:509 and Van Reenen 1996:210.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Red cocks and black hens 343 every child should be regarded as a blessing. Sexual restrictions apply to both genders, and there is no identification of women with passion as Peletz (1995a, 1995b) argued for Negri Sembilan. I have already described in what sense real behaviour departs from these moral precepts. Both genders engage in premarital love affairs, women get pregnant before marriage, have ille- gitimate children, and use pregnancy as a strategy to pressure men into mar- riage. Once married, however, women face the threat of male violence should they start a liaison, while men can do as they please without risking more than a reproach. Public opinion supports such inequality and honours male sexual boasting, which fits in well with the idea of masculinity as expressed in ngadhu symbolism. This even includes sexual violence. Although prohibited by law, rape and sexual abuse of children do occur. Most cases are covered up, the topic being regarded as sensitive, and people usually try to avoid a scandal, particularly if the culprit is a member of the victim’s lineage. Yet even if he belongs to another woé, it takes enormous courage for a woman to accuse a man publicly and to convince the community that he and not she is the guilty person.38 The kinship structure privileges women, the principle of matrilineal descent making it possible for them to generate their own kinship network, and uxorilocal residence giving them an advantage in the management of their own relationships. The fact that they stay and their brothers move to their wives’ houses limits the authority males would have as brothers, since they only come as visitors or when things of importance need to be dis- cussed. Compared with brothers, husbands have only minor authority. They are considered to be strangers, tolerated at meetings but never accepted as persons whose voice carries weight in deciding lineage affairs. In daily life a woman might cooperate more with her husband than with her brother, par- ticularly if the woman is not heir to a sa’o méze and so lives with her husband and children in a newly built bamboo hut on her fields. Some women might even be subject to domestic violence. In all conflicts, however, a husband’s power is limited by his wife’s brothers and maternal uncles. Alice Schlegel (1972) has pointed out in her comparative study on matrilineal societies that female autonomy is the highest when neither brothers nor the husband dominate, but when both control and limit the other’s power. The Ngada fit into this pattern, and women can maintain their autonomy when the inter- ests of brothers and husbands conflict. A third group of men, fathers, are also accorded uncertain status due to the principles of matrilineal descent. While they are highly regarded when they care for their offspring (the emo- tional bond between fathers and children often being very intense), they lack

38 In one of the cases I investigated the woman had to face allegations that she was the seducer.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access 344 Susanne Schröter formal rights, and the relationship with their children depends entirely on interpersonal dynamics. In cases of mistreatment, children move to the house of a maternal aunt or their grandparents. Within this generally matrifocal structure, the existence of hierarchical groups puts women at a disadvantage. Although the prescribed rule of endogamy is largely ignored when it comes to the actual marriage practices of individuals, and although the harsh sanctions punishing transgressions of these marriage rules are incompatible with Indonesian law and have long been abolished, women from the ga’é méze continue to suffer discrimination when they marry a man below their own social status. They are ritually humiliated, are demoted in status, and lose their rights of inheritance to the house. Considering the lack of potential marriage partners commensurate with their own status, these women are forced to choose between remaining unmarried forever or accepting the humiliation and discrimination that is part and parcel of hypogamous marriage. The symbolic order as manifested in ancestor shrines stresses complemen- tarity. Yet with regard to the house as a primary locus of identity, it privileges women. It is women who are identified with this most significant symbol, and, furthermore, it is they who are the guarantors of lineage continuity.39 Politics, in contrast, is viewed as a male sphere, as is ritual leadership, healing being an exception to this. However, since Ngada highly value harmony, male dominance is not absolute. Women’s opinions must be con- sidered, and elder women impose their will no less than men do. This is different in modern political institutions, whose representatives do not nec- essarily have social ties to all members of local groups and so have no formal responsibility to them. Additionally, women do not participate equally in political parties, they do not have equal access to high-level administrative positions, and they are not represented equally in political offices. The same is true for the Church. Due to their exclusion from the priesthood, women can only participate in low-level positions. In conclusion, the comparatively high position of women among the Ngada, which rests largely on the structural principles of matrilineality and uxorilo- cality, is coming under growing pressure in the face of ongoing social and economic change. As long as modern structures and national ideologies favour

39 This is similar to the Minangkabau as described by Blackwood 1999.

Downloaded from Brill.com09/30/2021 12:46:33AM via free access Red cocks and black hens 345 male dominance, the local gender order will slowly but surely be eroded.

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