In Toraja, death is a patient unfolding, intricately intertwined with daily life. The boundaries between the living and the dead are not as distinct as we might expect; instead, they blur into a continuum that celebrates the ongoing presence of the deceased in the lives of their loved ones. This concept is beautifully embodied in the distinction between Toh Makula and Toh Matte, which refer to the sick and the dead, respectively.
The Living and the Dead: Toh Makula vs. Toh Matte
In Toraja culture, the concept of Toh Makula refers to the state of the deceased being still part of the household, despite their physical absence from the world of the living. Instead of being considered fully dead, the deceased are seen as "sick", a concept that emphasises the continuity of their presence within the family. In contrast, Toh Matte refers to the true death, when the deceased has completely left this world. This distinction is vital, as it signifies a liminal phase where the deceased’s spirit is not yet fully separated from the living, and their role in the family’s life continues.
One of the reasons families keep the Toh Makula in their homes for weeks, months, or even decades is the financial burden of the funeral rites. Torajan funerals are elaborate and expensive affairs, with the cost of the buffalo—vital for the ceremony—being a significant part of the expense. Buffalo are a symbol of status and are essential for the rituals that ensure the deceased’s safe passage to the afterlife. As a result, it can take families many years to save enough money to afford the funeral, and during this waiting period, the body of the deceased is kept at home, treated with care and respect, as the family prepares for the high costs involved in the ceremony.
I was invited into several homes across Toraja where families were lovingly taking care of their deceased loved ones, treating them not as a loss but as a part of ongoing life. In each of these homes, the body of the deceased, or Toh Makula, was cared for with immense respect and tenderness.
A Liminal Phase: Death as a Continuation of Life
The deceased are spoken to, fed, and cared for as though they are still alive, symbolising the bond between the living and the dead. This practice is deeply rooted in the belief that death is a transformation into another phase of existence.
I had the privilege of visiting multiple families where their loved ones were still treated as Toh Makula, not fully dead, but in a state of transition. In the village of Madong, I was warmly welcomed into the family home of Kalimbuang, who passed away at the age of 87. His body had been preserved after his death in a hospital and brought back to his family’s house, where it had been kept for 10 months. Despite his death, the family continued to care for him daily, offering food, tobacco, and speaking to him as if he were still a living presence.
The White Flag: A Symbol of Respect for Toh Makula
A striking feature in these homes was the white flag raised outside the door, signalling that there was a Toh Makula inside. This simple yet powerful gesture serves as a respectful signal to the surrounding community, letting them know that the family is in a sacred and transitional phase. The white flag is a quiet invitation for the community to be mindful of their behaviour, especially in terms of noise or music, as a sign of respect for the deceased still present within the household.
This symbol allows visitors to approach the home with an understanding of the family’s delicate situation. I was invited to many homes, where families took great care in looking after their deceased relatives. As long as I brought offerings, such as eggs, coffee, sugar, or tobacco, I was welcome to enter and connect with the family. These offerings were seen as a respectful gesture, a way to show honour to the deceased and to acknowledge the continuity of life even in the presence of death.
Honouring the Deceased: A Continuation of Connection
In Toraja, the deceased are kept as part of the family until the elaborate funeral rites can be performed. The body, preserved and maintained, continues to be treated as a beloved member of the family. Families continue to speak to, feed, and care for the deceased as a way of maintaining that bond, holding on to the essence of the connection between the living and the dead.
This way of grieving feels like a continued relationship rather than a painful separation, one that exists beyond the boundaries of life and death. In the homes I visited, there was no sense of the dead being forgotten or lost. Instead, there was an ongoing relationship, one that honoured the dead through continued care and daily routines, as though they were still part of the living community.
A Cultural Approach to Death: Death as Part of Life
The visits I made to these homes in Toraja revealed a deep cultural respect for death and the deceased. The practice of keeping the Toh Makula in the home and continuing to care for them is a profound expression of the Torajan worldview: death is not an event that abruptly ends a life but rather a transformation that unfolds over time. This ongoing care is a way to honour the deceased, maintaining a connection that transcends physical death.
Through these visits, I saw that the boundary between life and death is not so rigid in Toraja; rather, it is a fluid, ongoing process. The deceased continue to be part of the family’s daily life, transforming the way grief and loss are experienced. The Toh Makula are lovingly integrated into the rhythms of life, a reminder that death is embraced as part of the natural continuum of existence. These beautiful, respectful traditions allowed me to witness how death, care, and love are woven together in Toraja culture, creating a deep, enduring connection that spans both life and death.
