“We hid near the enemy’s well and ambushed the first villagers who arrived at daybreak. Unfortunately he was a young boy”. Erstwhile head hunter, Nokying Wangnao shared with the national Geographic in his interview.
It was always uncomfortable, even frightening, and this time wasn’t an exception either. I recounted the lines to my fellow companions, on board the Tinsukiya – Rangiya express. Yes!We were on our way to meet those dreadful hunters, in their village called Longwa, divided by the Indo-Myanmar border.
We boarded the train at Dimapur station after attending the Hornbill Festival where a simulated act of head hunting was demonstrated by people of the Konyak tribe, one of the main head hunting tribes from north-east India. We huddled into an unreserved (general) compartment, travelling through Assam, recanting our set itinerary whereby the journey was supposed to be by car from Kohima. The Hornbill Festival had greatly depleted the availability of hired cabs, with international tourists swarming in vast numbers.
Disembarking at Bhojo, we hired a Toto (moniker for battery operated auto rickshaws in India) to reach Sonari in Assam. Getting there we came to know of available Sumo Service (hired vans) for Mon (a town in Nagaland), however, we didn’t find any cabs because it was already evening. So we have decided to stay there and found a hotel after searching a lot.
The next day saw us getting into a 10 seater Van, headed for Mon. The journey wound through beautiful tea estates of Assam, until we reached the Nagaland border. The police checked our ILP (Inner Line Permit) and set us completing other formalities, after which, we set roll again. This time we found that the roads were being decorated for Christmas (It was a fortnight before Christmas). The younger generation (both men and women) busily hurried, creating path for Santa to pay them a visit.
The tribes have mostly converted to Christianity from Animism. Animism was a kind of pagan spiritual belief wherein objects, places and creatures, everything was believed to possess a distinct spiritual essence. As per their beliefs, human skulls possessed a life force that could ensure the prosperity of crops, animals and tribal clans. Thus, the tradition of head hunting!
We reached Mon at around ten in the morning. Thereafter, we changed cabs for Longwa village. Our driver was Assamese who was married to a Konyak girl from that village. He gave us assurance that he will help us while we were visiting the place. We embarked on a two-hour long bumpy ride through lush greenery and beautiful hills, scattered with little quaint villages, reaching the Indo-Myanmar border where we were checked again, this time by the Indian As stated earlier, the Indo-Myanmar border divides the village Longwa into two halves spread over both countries.
The villagers have dual citizenship and are free to roam in either country. Our driver took us to the top of a hill, flanked by two large houses. He said that one was a guest house, where we could stay back for the night, and the other was a big traditional stone house with tinned roof. My curiosity took me there, and I was awestruck to find two flags fluttering in there. Burmese and Indian!
This was the house of their King(Ang) who ruled the both Indian and Burmese Konyaks, and he resided in a house divided by the political border!
A few formalities met, we entered to find none other than the King himself. He looked young and had a friendly air about him. A big log drum was stationed just outside the house, which was used as a public communication medium. The villagers were informed of good news, bad news, and attack of enemies, which was done by different rhythms and beats of the drum.
The entrance looked like it was once the reception to the abode of the head of Konyaks. The walls were dotted with lots of skulls of sacrificed animals. One of the walls also showcased many family photographs.We discussed on various topics, the kingdom, the administration, modern era, and also the tradition of head hunters.
The King told us that head hunting practices had been banned by the Government of India back in 1960, and the gradual adoption of Christianity saw the end of the same. He also told us that some of the actual head hunters, who were very old by now, were still alive, and we could go and met them, if we felt so.
We were told that once the young men, on completing a mission, paraded through the villages, brandishing the hunted heads by their topknots and were offered rice beer by the women. Older men sacrificed buffalo and they placed the hunted skulls outside the Chieftain’s house. The following day, the wife of the Chieftain would begin tattooing a dark mask like pattern on the face and chest of the young head hunters.
We bade goodbye to Ang, and went around, guided by the driver’s uncle-in-law. The first head hunter we met, was Manyam, who was returning from work. He had clear tattoo on his face made from Black ink, maybe the prize for his initiation, made by Chieftain’s wife. Maybe, his first hunt was like Wangnao; who knows? Manyam was wearing a chain with four brass skulls.At present, looked cool and even funny, but he was once a warrior who had killed many enemies. He recounted his own experiences to us for a while, but language was proving to be a barrier in free communication. We didn’t ask him much about bid him good bye and walk towards the village. We didn’t probe him much about his experiences, apprehending that they might be too gory and tragic for our taste.
As we kept walking around, we came across a house where a man was busy crafting moulds for casting brass figurines and souvenirs. The room was filled with brass skull chains, warrior statuettes made of brass and wood among a lot of other things. The wife sells the crafts at the market on the top of the hill where the King’s palace was. Apart from agriculture and animal husbandry, Konyak tribe is also known for their expertise in brass casting. They also design guns for hunting. Hunting and fishing are their major professions. We couldn’t resist laying our hands on a few pieces. Outside, we found an old man teaching his grandson the intricacies of the craft.
We visited another house where we found another head hunter, a feeble nonagenarian. He was literally too old to stay straight; he trembled and slumped in his seat; his skin already worn out enough, the tattoo almost faded away. We learnt his name is Inangnan, once a very famous warrior of this village. There wasn’t much we dared ask him, for we feared, it would be too tiring for him. On our way out, we met a woman who looked like she was in her seventies, but who arrived carrying a heavy load on her back. We talked to her. She said she is the wife of the old man’s brother, and that she is still serving the Inangnan family even after her husband passed away. The Inangans are a large family who live under the same roof. Each adult members have been assigned individual duties which they follow whole heartedly. The older children were also looking after the younger ones while their parents were out, working through the day.
As darkness began descending on the village, the villagers came started arriving, back from work. Some were carting crops, others, woods and fishes, or any other daily-needed items. Our driver told us that eventually, when all would be back, the things would all be distributed equally among everyone.
We decided to return to the guest house atop the hill. It was pretty cold out there. We saw the little village Church and the beautifully decorated Pastor’s quarter. The Church was simple and expansive, with a big play ground around the front.
The hilltop was serene except for the increasingly cold winds, and we could see the whole village, the evening made beautiful by wafts of music from various guitars. The quaint little village was evidently in preparation for Christmas.
The guest house was a welcome respite from the bitterly cold winds. It was powered by solar panels. The cook prepared us a hot dinner consisting of rice, spicy Naga Dal, boiled squash, fried potato and omelette. We literally gobbled the awesome dinner like hogs and slept like logs that night!
Early morning, we joined our guide from the earlier day; the uncle-in-law, who had been waiting for us since a long time. We were going to venture into Myanmar that day, and who should we encounter while on our way in? A man with a gun slung across his shoulder. He was out for hunting. We found our guide chattering with the man, and then he took us into one of the houses, around the village.
A fire burnt in the courtyard, like in every other house. This was meant for drying a number of things like corn, meat, pulses, blankets etc. that were arranged layer-wise. Three men sat around the fire, fashioning moulds like we saw earlier. These people enjoyed dual citizenship too, the village had two schools, one a Burmese School and another, an English one. Some children study in the Burmese school while the rest attend the English School which is located a top the hill, where the King’s house is located.
We asked for permission to enter the Burmese school, and were told that we had to ask the Indian Army. We therefore headed to the check-post at the Mon-Longwa crossroads. We found some Burmese Army personnel sharing smokes with their Indian counterparts. They very reluctantly let us, but we were told to restrict ourselves within the school premises only. We thanked them profusely for considering our request, even in the face of political restrictions.
We found the schoolchildren queuing for prayer. The headmaster gestured us sternly that we were not to shoot pictures. The teachers were all Burmese women with white-polished faces. They reminded us of certain other oriental traditional women, who adorned themselves with peony headdresses and powdered faces, but we dared not speak out so.
We however recorded the prayer with a hidden camera! As we walked back to the guest house, our guide started speaking out his heart, and told us that during the frightening times when the practice of head hunting was still prevalent, nobody could sleep peacefully in their village. Thanks to Government intervention and advent of Christianity within the tribe, their horrific days had finally come to an end. We were amazed as we listened to the man, remembering all those adventure films about Pawnees and Apaches. We felt surprised that Mel Gibson’s Apocalypto wasn’t so distant after all. It had been much nearer home, but thankfully those days of yonder had retreated behind pages of history for now.
How to reach Longwa:
By Air: Nearest airports are Dimapur(Nagaland), Imphal(Manipur), Dibrugarh(Assam).
By Rail: Nearest railway station is Bhojo. Bhojo is well connected by rail from Dimapur and Dibrugarah.
By road: From Imphal there is direct road communication with Dimapur.
After reaching Bhojo railway station, use road transport for Sonari. After reaching Taxi stand for Mon, hire taxies for Mon which is available on seat basis.
From Sonari to Mon is about 2 hours to reach. Taxies for seat basis at the taxi stand for Longwa are available only at morning and one at noon. It is better to hire taxi for Longwa from Mon and book the car for one night stay at Longwa. It is because of very less availability of road transport for Longwa. We booked a car with a seating capacity of seven people at 6000 INR.
Mon district can be reached from Kohima via Mokokchung. Only problem is that it requires longer time than this route due to road condition.
Contacts numbers:
Tour guide name: Nahmei Konyak. It is better to contact him for booking of rooms at guest house and also as a guide. His mobile number is : +919856015152 . Nahmei is a very helpful person and guide us over telephone a lot.
Driver’s name: We hired the driver who helped us a lot and also found a guide for us who was his in laws. It is better to book him because his wife is a Konyak woman which I mentioned about them in my blog. His contact number is: 094027 81965. He is very helpful person. He helped us to reach all those head hunters whom I mentioned in the blog.