IN FOCUS Land of Diversity
Nagaland
Between The
Lines 1
An international border doesn’t change life in this Naga village
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Text & Photographs By Neelima Vallangi
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4 6
O
n a bright Sunday afternoon, I found myself standing on a hilltop, one foot in India and the other in Burma. In front of me were the mountains of Burma, covered in a dense blanket of greenery. On a ridge to my left was Longwa, a Konyak village in Nagaland, where I was hoping to meet headhunters. The air was fresh and oblivious to the existence of borders. The Konyaks are the largest of Nagaland’s 16 tribes. They are spread across Nagaland and Arunachal Pradesh in India, and Burma. Severing heads was a common practice among the Konyaks until the 1940s; the last reported headhunting was in the 1970s. Capturing an
When the IndiaBurma border was drawn in 1970, the Konyak villages were split across the two countries. Four remained in India, while the rest fell in Burma. Villagers have dualcitizenship, though in fact, they need no papers to move across the border to neighbouring villages.
enemy’s head was the rite of passage for boys. It represented the capture of the enemy’s spirit. Only men who had successfully hunted a head were allowed to wear a prestigious facial tattoo. While I was very excited about the prospect of meeting headhunters, I had no idea what to expect in Mon district, which is considered one of the least-developed parts of Nagaland. Ironically, its isolation has also allowed it to remain one of the state’s most culturally rich districts. Mon town, the district headquarters and the gateway to north Nagaland, is situated on the slopes of a mountain and is surrounded by other mountain ranges. It is an interesting mix of
thatched huts, tin roofs, and concrete buildings—a place in flux, holding on to its past as it embraces change. As I waited for my host to open the guesthouse, I saw merry children rolling down the road on a threewheeled wooden cart. Close by, children were practicing cartwheeling on a heap of sand at a construction site. The market had insect grubs and burnt wild rats for sale. Clearly, the traditional way of life hadn’t been driven out of Mon. In fact, modern amenities hadn’t even fully arrived— for the previous two days, the town and the rest of north Nagaland had been without electricity as the recent rains had damaged power lines. The next day, I headed to Longwa. Situated atop a ridge, the village
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urmimala nag (Map) Facing page: IP-Zero 03/indiapicture (necklaces)
1 A morung is the tribal community hall where all important meetings take place. Cultural artefacts from many decades ago still hang in these halls. 2 Villagers grow most of their own vegetables in kitchen gardens. 3 An elderly Konyak Naga with a tattoo on his face that indicates he was once a headhunter. As the tribe embraces change, those tales only live on through the fading tattoos and memories of the elders. 4 Traditional headhunters wore necklaces with brass faces that signified the number of heads hunted. Today, these necklaces are not earned, just inherited. 5 In 1970, the border between India and Burma was demarcated and pillar number 154 was erected just outside Longwa village. 6 Children gather around a bonfire on the grounds of the local church. Situated on a ridge surrounded by mountains, Longwa can get very cold even on summer evenings.
IN FOCUS Land of Diversity
Nagaland
How do you split an ancient community between two countries? TheY still move freely between india and burma to visit other KONYAK villages
commands a grand view of the valleys and mountains around. The Konyaks are still ruled by hereditary chieftains known as Anghs. In keeping with tradition, we visited the Angh as soon as we arrived in the village. He was easy to identify: he wore turquoise beads below the knees. Not much seems to have changed in the village, except for the disappearance of headhunting. The Anghs are still considered the supreme authority and each chief rules over several villages. The
Draped in traditional Naga shawls, women make their way back from church on a Sunday (top). The Konyaks used to worship elements of nature but today, 90 percent are Christians; A variety of knives, machetes, and agricultural tools adorn the walls of a traditional hut (bottom).
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villagers work in the chief ’s fields and also rebuild his house once every few years. The mountain slopes on either side of the ridge were covered with thatched bamboo houses. At the centre of the village was a huge church. The Konyaks were traditionally animists, worshipping elements of nature. But after the arrival of missionaries in the 19th century, more than 90 percent of the state’s people accepted Christianity. However, the embrace of a new religion didn’t take away the rich
heritage of the tribe. Every house was still decorated with a wall full of skeletons of animals and birds that had been hunted. Every April, the villagers celebrate Aoling Manyu to mark the onset of spring and the beginning of a new year. Hanging out with the village children around a bonfire on the vast church grounds that evening was a surreal experience. It seemed so far away from the city life I was used to. As the fire died out and darkness descended, the stars came out and filled the sky. I walked down the road that goes through the village. One of the chief ’s sons pointed towards the mountains in front of me and said, that is Burma and hidden inside those forests is the Burmese check post. Earlier that evening, I was told that the international border runs across the house of the Angh. Someone joked that the Angh dined in India and slept in Burma. It didn’t sound convincing. The next morning, Wanlem, the young Konyak lady who looked after the rest house in which I was staying, took me to visit a morung, the community hall and dormitory in which young boys were trained in the Konyak way of life. Stories of valour, hunting techniques, and a philosophy of respect for elders are passed on to the next generation in these morungs. The halls were decorated with animal skeletons and rich wooden carvings of warriors taming tigers. The boys arrive in the evening to spend time with the elders and leave early the next morning. Wanlem had something else planned for us for the rest of the day, but she wouldn’t say what. My
translator, one of the Angh’s sons, and I followed Wanlem as she navigated through the mountain trails around the village. We left behind the village houses. Apprehensive, I asked Aching, my translator, if he knew where we were headed. He didn’t. Finally, we arrived at a small patch of land with brilliant views of the mountains of Burma and India. At the centre of the open patch was a small concrete border pillar. “BP 154, 1970-71”, it said, in Hindi on one side, in Burmese on the other. So those stories about the international border cutting across the village and the Angh’s house were true after all. Though I found this fascinating, it didn’t matter much to the Konyaks. They woke up one day in 1970 to the news that four of their villages were in India, the rest in Burma. But how do you split an ancient community between two countries? The Konyaks still move freely between India and Burma to visit other Konyak villages. On our way back, we came across Pangshong, a 76-year-old former headhunter waiting by the roadside. His face was covered in a beautiful dark tattoo that seemed to be fading with every passing day. Though the Konyaks have done away with displaying human skulls, the vast bamboo house with animal skeletons on the walls, the festivals, and the morungs are signs that they haven’t let their culture disappear into oblivion, not just yet. Later that afternoon, as I soaked up the sunshine on the ridge, the silence was punctuated by a silken voice blaring on the stereo. “All I want to do is find a way back into love,” the singer crooned. I could see that, like everywhere else in the world, change was imminent. But there’s no way of telling whether the change will be like the loud song I heard that afternoon or if it will blend gently, like the song of a forest bird I heard by the river on my way back. Back home in Bengaluru I looked for Longwa on Google Maps. As it popped up, it brought a smile to my face. It showed a white line running ineffectually through a carpet of green, reminding me that mere borders can’t hold back the human spirit. n
The GUIDE Orientation Longwa is situated in the northernmost part of Nagaland along the IndoBurma border, about 150 km south of Dibrugarh in Assam. Mon town, the headquarters of Mon district, is 42 km west of this frontier village.
Getting There Dibrugarh in Assam is the closest airport and railway station. Roads are not good so the 150 km journey to Mon takes 5-6 hours (cabs cost `5,000 one-way). Travellers can also take a flight or train to Dimapur in Nagaland, which is 300 km southwest of Mon town. The road goes via the Assam plains making for a smoother, but longer journey. Longwa is a two-hour taxi ride from Mon (`3,000 one-way).
Seasons Winters (Oct-Mar) are a pleasant time to visit, with temperatures in the range of 3-24°C, making for
lovely afternoons and cold mornings and evenings. Keep in mind that daylight hours vary significantly during winter, with the sun rising really early (4 a.m.) and setting equally early (4.30-5 p.m). Summer (Apr-June) is also pleasant with temperatures between 15-32°C. April is when the Konyaks celebrate Aoleang Monyu festival, to welcome the New Year.
Stay Accommodation options in north Nagaland are limited. There are two simple guesthouses in Mon town and a couple of options in Longwa. Helsa Cottage is a six-room homestay, which is a 15-min walk from the main market and taxi stand (98623 45965; doubles `1,000). Paramount Guesthouse is run by a friendly old lady and is two minutes from the market (94364 33782; doubles `1,000). Longwa Rest House is government-run and basic,
only providing a bed and a roof over your head (`300). Longshaw Wangnao’s homestay is located in his traditional home. The English teacher also acts as a guide and can help arrange homestays at other remote villages such as Nanhyu (89743 90751, 94364 33504; longshawangnao@gmail.com; doubles `500).
Permits Indian tourists need to apply for an Inner Line Permit to visit Nagaland. This can be obtained in New Delhi, Kolkata, as well as other locations in the northeast. Foreign tourists do not have to apply for a Restricted Area Permit anymore. They must however register at the local Foreigners Registration Officer (FRO) of the district they visit in the northeast within 24 hours of arrival (more information on permits for both Indians and foreigners can be found at tourismnagaland.com/ Queries/EntryForma.html).
The village of Longwa as seen from a vantage point near the border pillar. To the right is Burma and on the left is India. The invisible border cuts through the village and the Angh’s house.
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