Under a purple sky in the pre dawn darkness, I stumble over rocks and dozens of sleeping bodies on the beach near Wanokaka on the south coast of remote Pulau Sumba.  Everyone awaits the ratu – the elders and traditional priests of Sumba with their black pointed hats, staffs and parang (a Sumbanese short sword). It is these mysterious looking men of great power and influence in Sumbanese society who will soon search the shallows of our beach at Wanokaka for the arrival of the nyale, the mysterious sea worms which comes to these beaches in their millions just after the February and March full moons.   If the nyale come, the ratu will announce that the Pasola – a ritual war of Sumbanese warriors on horseback hurling spears at each other – shall commence.

Sitting discretely among the palm tree roots just over my shoulder a few metres is the head ratu.  He has that age and reserved dignity which denotes genuine authority and respect.  In the dark I can see he is clad almost entirely in black with flashes of red. There is a red sash beside his face.  His remarkable piercing eyes do not focus on anyone or anything nearby.  He stares intensely out into the ocean and the twinkling lights of the boats just beyond.  In a trance like state, seemingly oblivious to all around, he clutches his parang  and waits.

I notice the faces of many more ratu – every one is resplendent in his black pointed hat, sashes of red, and some have silver trinkets in their hair or ears.  Most have superb hand woven ikat draped over their shoulders like a stole.  All have a parang and a wooden staff.  All have great presence and dignity.

The crowd watches intently as two ratu solemnly make their way slowly down the water’s edge, then, wading knee deep into the water, look momentarily, reach down and triumphantly hold up the nyale.  Clutchhing the nyale, they make their way back up the beach and quietly approach their chief.  The ratus confer then firmly announce that, as for centuries past, the nyale have arrived.  The Wanokaka Pasola will begin later that day.
 
I make my way to today’s battlefield at kampung Lahi Hagalang. As I pass the traditional Sumbanese villages with their ancestral graves, thronging masses of people, horses and riders all decked out with the wildly colourful regalia make their way to the Wanokaka Pasola.  Reaching the Pasola ground, I watch in the heat of the morning sun as bands of horsemen dressed in wild head dress and colourful ikat take up their battle positions.  

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