Zunheboto Roads

Back in Dimapur now after another trip to Zunheboto, this time to help run a workshop on Sumi Mother Tongue Literacy, which I'll be blogging about as soon as I recover from the journey.

It's really sad that the roads to Zunheboto are all so terrible (see my previous post here), especially the Kohima-Chozuba-Zunheboto Road which has been abandoned now because they started expanding it, stopped work, then the rains came and you know...

Then once you get to Zunheboto town, the roads don't get any better. The roads aren't always resurfaced every year, and even when they are, they aren't done properly.


So during the monsoon, the main road through Project Colony becomes a mini-river whenever it rains.


Then when winter comes round and it stops raining, all you get is dust.


My friends came up to Zunheboto for the first time last week, and they were impressed by the natural beauty of the area, especially the neighbouring Tizu valley. I believe the phrase 'just like paradise' was used.

But they really weren't impressed by the road conditions! I know people from Zunheboto read my blog occasionally, so come on Zunheboto, you can do so much better!

Lightning bandh

While Assam is considering banning bandhs for the rest of the month, following violence during Tuesday's bandh (including some incidents here in Guwahati), Nagaland hasn't quite reached that stage yet. I arrived on Saturday in Dimapur to what was called a 'lightning bandh', a term I had never heard before. Note that is also spelled 'lightening bandh', although this is certainly a common misspelling of 'lightning', as there is nothing about this sort of bandh that 'lightens' / is 'lightening'.

The term was used in relation a bandh that was called on Saturday in Dimapur. You can see it reported here in the Nagaland Post: Aug 31 incident sparks inter-tribal clash in Dimapur and also in the Eastern Mirror: Clashes erupt in Dimapur. From what I gather, the term refers to a bandh that's called very suddenly and often violently, since business owners aren't given enough notice, bandh supporters go to them and forcefully make them shut their doors.

As you can read in the articles, on Friday 31 Aug, a Sumi man, Kivika Assümi, was arrested by a Kohima Village Youth Organisation 'Quick Response Team' (which as far as I can tell acted as a kind of local vigilante group). Kivika was accused of bike theft, and died while in this group's custody. Whether he was guilty or not of the crimes he was accused for, his death was clearly not acceptable. A Sumi student organisation in Dimapur called for a bandh to protest his death. This eventually led to some terrible acts of violence between groups of Sumi and Angamis, and eventually the complete shut down of a section of NH 29, the highway that runs from Dimapur to Kohima.

The part of town where I was staying (close to Supermarket) wasn't really affected, and when I came out of the train station in Dimapur, I also hadn't really noticed anything unusual, apart from the lack of pre-paid taxis going to Kohima. Unfortunately, I had a few Sumi friends trying to come into Dimapur that afternoon, and they were forced to spend the night at a church in a village off the main highway. Thankfully, they did make it into Dimapur safely on Sunday.

It doesn't take much to realise that the term 'lightning' is quite appropriate for this sort of situation. A flash of lightning is enough to set off a wild fire, if there's been enough fuel around. And sadly, there is a lot of 'fuel' building up all over this part of the world, whether it's tension between rival tribes or between migrants and long-established communities.

Hiyo Cafe, Dimapur

(I was meant to post this months ago, but only just remembered to do it after my weekend in Dimapur.)

One of my favourite places to hang out at when I'm in Dimapur is Hiyo Cafe. I like it because it's pretty quiet (being separated from the main road by a building), it's close to the hotel I usually stay at, and it's run by Sumis.


In case you can't see, the name Hiyo (hi: yɔ - someone's even written it in IPA) is a "versatile Sumi word that is usually associated with the Satakha Region of the Zunheboto District in Nagaland, India." According to the explanation, it can be used an adjective, an exclamation or a pronoun. As an adjective, it expresses "satisfaction or fulfillment", but it does seem to have a wider range of meanings which aren't listed here (more linguistic investigation needed!).

The cafe has a nice interior with comfortable couches and tables, far nicer than most places you'd find in Dimapur. They serve mostly drinks here: coffee, tea, juices and cocktails too. My friends enjoy the cocktails here while I enjoy the coffee. They also have snacks like french fries and chicken fry.

It's a nice place if you're catching up with friends, or if you need a place to sit and work on a laptop.

Also, you might catch a glimpse of Alobo Naga & the Band whenever they're in town.

Hiyo Cafe is located at 1, Basement, Aiko Building, Opp Town Hall, Dimapur Nagaland.
(If you're coming on the road from the Railway Station heading towards Supermarket, it's on the left side. Look out for Furtado's Music Store, the cafe's right behind it.)

Auto accidents in Dimapur

Accidents involving autos / auto rickshaws occur quite frequently in Dimapur, from what I've seen in the papers. Most seem to involve alcohol consumption, so I'm not surprised. Of course, I'm always amazed that not more accidents occur (in Dimapur and in India in general), despite the apparent chaos on the road.

On Republic Day this year, after the end of the 36 hour bandh, I was sitting in my bed watching TV when I heard a crash from the street around 8,30pm.

Looking out, I saw an auto had been T-boned by a Gypsy (at least I think that's what it was).


A crowd gathered around quite quickly. Some guys pushed the auto a little bit in order to let the few cars plying the road circumvent the accident site. In the absence of trained paramedics, I saw two guys haul the driver out of the auto and carry him away, his arms around their shoulders (a big no-no if you're in Australia, but necessary in places where you can't expect paramedics to arrive in time). I couldn't see what condition he was in. Thankfully, there didn't appear to be any passengers in the auto at the time.



By 9.15pm (45 min after the crash), a truck arrived to tow the vehicle away. I was actually quite impressed by how quickly it came.

I'm not sure what happened afterwards. I don't recall seeing any mention of it in the local papers, which sometimes report on traffic accidents. Maybe someone might know more about this?

Getting from Dimapur to Kohima / Getting around Dimapur

I have to admit, it's been almost two weeks since my last post and I'm currently in Singapore. The thing is, I lost internet connectivity my last few days in Nagaland because the top-up I paid for at the Reliance office the week before never went through *grrrr* (I paid for it, but my credit was never topped up). I then had an extremely full-on week in Guwahati at the NEILS 7 conference, which I will blog about soon.

What I was wanted to talk about in my last post before leaving Nagaland was how one gets around Dimapur.

Here's the exit from the Dimapur Railway station, as seen from the opposite side of the car park. Anyone entering the state by train will come out from this exit.


If you're looking to go to Kohima, walk straight out the exit. Close to the other side of the car park, you should see a stand for shared taxis to your left. There's a counter with a sign that reads 'All Nagaland Taxi Association' (or something like that) that sells tickets up for Rs 200 a person. You'll get a seat number assigned to you. If it's seat no. 1, you're next to the driver. The other three numbers mean the back row.

Whether you look local or not, if you're carrying luggage, you're sure to be approached by touts offering rides to Kohima for the same price or slightly less. They're not usually too dodgy - the main reason these guys don't go through the ticket counter is because there's a limit of 4 passengers if they go through the ticket counter. Otherwise, they can squeeze in a 5th person in the front row next to the driver. And maybe even a 6th person at the back... That's probably why I prefer buying a ticket at the counter, because I know I'll have more space.

If you're staying in Dimapur and need to get to your hotel, your best bet is to catch an auto rickshaw, or 'auto' as they are commonly known in this part of the world. You can see a few of them parked outside the station in the photo above. Just tell the driver where you're going and ask for the fare. The word for 'fare' is bhara or bara (since most people don't produce the breathy stop) and 'how much' is kiman. I tend to say Bara kiman?, though I don't know if that's good Nagamese or not.

One convenient thing about Nagaland (and in other parts of the NE) is that the drivers will often respond with the English numbers. Most locals would also struggle to count in Hindi or Assamese, except maybe in multiples of 5 or 10.

What I notice about Dimapur as well, is the lack of big buses, which you see all over in Kohima. Instead, you see autos plying up and down fixed routes, often with signs showing the areas they are allowed to travel in.

From the railway station, you will see autos with the sign 'TOWN AREA', which is pretty straight forward, except if you're like me and haven't quite figured out what the town boundaries are. I expect Hong Kong market and City Tower would fall under this category. Another sign you might find on an auto around the railway station is 'RLY GATE TO CMD' (see the photo in this Nagaland Post article). It took me a while to figure this one out, but it stands for 'Railway (Station) to Chumukedima' - Chumukedima is the last little village before the checkpoint if you're heading from Dimapur to Kohima.

If you want an auto all to yourself, tell the driver 'hire', state your destination and ask for the fare. You don't always have to say 'hire' - for instance, it should be obvious if you're coming out of the railway station with all your luggage that you want the auto all to yourself.

Finally, if you're travelling around in a shared auto, don't forget the magic word to make the driver stop and let you down: 'SIDE!'

Dimapur Supermarket

Any visitor to Dimapur should know where 'Supermarket' is. It's close to the Railway Station and there're a few hotels around, including the Hotel Saramati (really not worth it for the price) and the De Oriental Dream hotel, and the Kachari ruins are right around the corner. Locals will know when you tell them you're going to 'Supermarket'.

But don't expect an air-conditioned shop selling groceries. The place is more a complex than an actual supermarket. The signs all seem to suggest it should be rightfully known as the 'Naga Shopping Arcade' and to me, it's definitely more a 'shopping arcade' than 'supermarket'. The whole place certainly looks past its prime, but there are a few shops selling traditional 'tribal' clothes and items.



There are also lots of shops selling more modern clothes.


But what seems to define the place (and my friends use them as a landmarks) are the coffin shops available.






I think I saw two of the coffin shops open the other day during the state-wide bandh. Curious...

On the importance of tones

Even though I've looked at Sumi tone for years (and I can speak another tone language, Mandarin), I still feel like I'm tone-deaf when I listen to the language. Fortunately, I've been getting a lot of help with Sumi tones thanks to my friend Cana, who apart from being a gifted artist, is also a gifted musician.

Sumi has 3 contrastive tones: low, mid and high, all of which are fairly level (except when there's intonation involved). This means that there is a change in pitch height results in a new word, e.g.

apuh [à.pù] ‘father’
apu [a.pu] ‘water scoop’
appu [à.pú] ‘son’

So apuh with low tone means 'father' and appu with high tone means 'son'. The change in spelling is a fairly recent one, which hasn't been universally adopted. But the main thing is, when you say the words out, the consonants and vowels are all the same, the only difference is pitch.

I find the high tone easiest to perceive, but I often get the low and mid tones mixed up. I was actually pretty amazed (I suppose I shouldn't have been, but I still was) when Cana told me that the low and mid tones are closer together in pitch than the high. That was something I'd demonstrated in an acoustic instrumental study of the language a few years ago.

The other problem I have is, when I speak Sumi, I have a tendency to put a slightly higher pitch on the last syllable of a word that I try to stress. As an example, the word ana [ànà] with low tones on both syllables means 'rice'.

But every time I answer the question "Ana chu va chu mphi?" 'Have you eaten yet?' (lit. "Have you eaten rice yet or not?"), I end up saying "Ana chu va." 'I've eaten' (lit. 'I've eaten rice'), pronouncing ana as what speakers perceive as [àná], with high tone on the second syllable. I know it should be low tone, but somehow part of me just wants to stress the whole word, and I end up using a higher pitch to do so.

At least ana [àná] with high tone doesn't mean anything in Sumi, but speakers can still tell it's wrong.

In a similar vein, when I was staying with friends in Kohima a few weeks ago, I was trying to learn a few phrases in Kohima Angami / Tenyidie. In contrast to Sumi, Tenyidie has 5 tones, all of which are fairly level as far as I can tell, and I still can't tell the difference between most of the tones. Anyway, it didn't stop me from learning a few key phrases.

One evening, when asked if I was hungry, I replied with A merü mo. I thought I was saying "I'm not hungry." The verb merü means 'to be hungry' when there's low tone on the final syllable.

Without realising it again, I'd said merü with a high tone on the second syllable.

My friends all burst into laughter immediately. It turns out I'd said "I haven't vomitted."

Climbing Mount Japfü

Over the weekend, I was in Kohima, where a friend had invited me to come on a trip up to the summit of Mount Japfü. A friend of his was organising the climb. At 3044m, it's Nagaland's second highest peak (after Saramati). The starting point was Dimori Cover, which I estimate is about 1500m above sea level (Kohima is about 1400m).



I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I wasn't particularly fit, especially having spent the past 2 months with barely any exercise and putting on weight from eating loads of pork fat. I realised the day before that it was also a climbing competition. Given my history of back and knee problems, I thought getting to the top would be competition enough for me.

The winner of the competition, who happened to come from my friend's village Khuzama, made it to the summit in a time of only 1h 22min.

In contrast, it took us (well me, mostly) 5 hours.

I was definitely not ready for the climb. The first part was easy enough.


We then walked past jhum fields owned by the nearby village of Kigwema before we entered the forest. But the going got a bit tougher as the gradient got steeper. The path was also pretty slippery with mud from all the melted frost on the ground.

And once we got high enough, most of the terrain was covered in snow. It was pretty, and my friend was thrilled to see snow, but it didn't make the trail any less treacherous. Especially when most of the path was already pretty steep.


At some points, ropes had been laid because the path was practically vertical.


The scariest portion was this set of 'steps' cut into the rock. This was a practically vertical climb, with no safety equipment at all (apart from having a person below to cushion one's fall, which is not ideal). I suggested that the organisers could have set up a rope here, or better yet, a step ladder.


But with a lot of help from my friend, I somehow made it to the top.








And it was definitely worth it for the view (as well as the bragging rights, and the little certificate they gave us at the top).

There's a little cross at the top, which I assume marks the peak.


I was told you could see the Dzükou Valley from the peak, though I'm not quite sure if this photo shows the side of the mountain where the valley is located - I was way too tired when people were pointing it out to me.


But I did note that we could see Kohima in the distance.


Coming down was another ordeal. After negotiating the near-vertical sections, I had trouble with the muddy path and kept slipping. I'm definitely not as surefooted as most people I know here and needed my friend's help a lot coming back down.

Thankfully we made it safely back down the mount. And the return journey only took us 3.5 hours!

Picnic in the rain

Last week I was invited to a family picnic at Khükiye Lukhai. I was looking forward to it. I didn't know whether it would be next to a stream, but I was told fish was on the menu. It turned out to be right next to my friend's uncle's akhabo 'fish pond' right next to their fields.





The only downer was that after weeks of sunshine, it rained the entire day. The remnants of Cyclone Thane which hit Tamil Nadu had made their way up to the Northeast.



Thankfully there was the field hut / house - a little resting shed next to the field where people can rest.


And prepare food if necessary.


Given that there were more than 10 of us, they also set up a tarpaulin shelter next to the house.


And my friends and their cousins all ate from a big banana leaf.

As promised, there was fish caught that morning from the akhabo.


Which my friends wrapped in banana leaves and grilled with a little bit of organic lemon.

Not the best weather for a picnic, but the food and company definitely made up for it!

Nagaland village focus: Khükiye Lukhai

Even though I'm currently in Dimapur and am off to Kohima soon for the weekend, I thought I'd do a quick post about another village where I've spent a bit of time on this trip. I'm not sure how well-known it is even in the district - I met a girl who had only recently heard about it despite living in the district most of her life.

The name of the village is Khükiye Lukhai. It's special because it's the home village of the friends I stay with when I'm in Zunheboto. It's a Sumi vilalge, located right next to the town of Satakha in Zunheboto district. In fact, I'm told that parts of Satakha actually belong to the village.

Khükiye Lukhai was actually two villages that merged into one. The two villages were founded by two brothers, Khükiye and Lukhai - it's pretty common for Sumi villages to be named after their founders.

The entrance to the village

The church - having seen other churches around here, I reckon it's in need of some renovation work soon


View from the church


Views around the village




Here are some terraced fields just below the village that my friends' uncle's family looks after.

Pretty isn't it?

Cute animals

(I was originally going to title this post "Cute animals that don't always end up on people's menus", but thought it was a bit too long and a little unappealing.)

Chinese people are often said to eat anything. I'm sure many people in India probably have a similar impression of the Nagas (if they've even heard about them). The thing is, most animals in Nagaland are eaten, but there're always a few creatures that don't quite make it to the menu.

One animal that doesn't typically feature in people's cooking here is cat meat (akhosa shi), although there are certainly people who do eat cat. Hutton (1921) noted that cats were not eaten among the Semas due to a number of superstitions associated with them.



Dog meat (atsü shi) is much more commonly eaten in Nagaland, as in many parts of China and SE Asia. However, even here, not all people will willingly consume dog. I have many friends here who steer clear of dog meat. There's also a common belief here that dogs will know if you're a 'dog eater' and will not like you. (That's why I tell people I'm waiting for my dog in Singapore to pass on before I try dog meat.)


Of course, chickens are eaten, but people wouldn't think to eat the cute little chicks. But I'm sure it's not because they're cute...


Alright, you got me. This post was just an excuse to post pictures I took of cute animals over Christmas.

'Sumi' fashion

One complaint I hear from my Sumi / Sema friends is that if they're seen wearing red clothing, leather jackets, or worse, a red leather jacket, (and add sunglasses) other Naga friends will instantly ridicule them for dressing like a typical Sema (I imagine a scene where people point at them and say accusingly, 'Seeeema'!) So traumatic was this experience of school / college that some Sumi friends went through a phase where they avoided wearing red altogether. Some of them still avoid wearing red!

Apparently, part of this stereotype originated in the 1980s when leather jackets and sunglasses were all the rage with Sumi men. I'm not sure how the 'red' stereotype started though.

In any case, I don't think it's fair that they get this sort of flack from other Nagas, who can wear leather or red without fear of reprieve. I also don't see anything wrong with wearing red with black leather - they make a good combination. I can't say I approve of red leather jackets though...

Also, for better or worse, leather / faux leather's been pretty popular in Melbourne over the past year and I bought myself one back in May. I already have a real leather jacket, but don't feel comfortable travelling with it (My policy is to never bring clothes I love when I travel in India, in case they get damaged or my baggage gets cut again.)

Anyway, here's my take on what is seen as stereotypical 'Sumi' fashion.

As far as I can tell, the only ridiculous thing is the facial mask I put on to keep out the dust that gets churned into the air every time vehicles pass by. (Come on Zunheboto, you can do better when it comes to the road situation!!)

Christmas 2011 in Nagaland - Vishepu (I)

Everyone will tell you that Christmas time in Nagaland is best spent in a village. The towns and cities tend to empty out. It's just as well I wasn't in Zunheboto town because there was a situation involving two UG factions, so people weren't even setting off fireworks on Christmas Eve, which is the usual thing to do.

You might remember that last year I was in the village of Natha New, which is actually just next to Zunheboto town. This year I spent Christmas in Vishepu, since my friends I. and N. had come back from Australia to throw a Christmas feast for the village.



As with all Christmas feasts, preparations start weeks, if not months, ahead. But it's in the week before the feast that most of the village is mobilised for the feast. One important thing is pounding rice into rice flour.



Here, two kinds of rice flour (normal and glutinous) are mixed and water (and some salt and sugar) is added to make a a kind of dough. This is then wrapped in banana leaves and boiled or steamed (though some are baked in a fire). The result is Sümi sho or 'Sumi bread'. Personally, I like it when they fry it, although I've had some very good steamed Sümi sho.



What's a feast without the meat? And a real feast in Nagaland involves the slaughter of at least one mithun. The fellow here got a bullet through his skull on Christmas Eve morning. I got to witness the killing only because the person knocked on my door at 5.30am looking for ammunition (he was looking for the guy who was supposed to be sharing my room because he apparently knew where the ammo was kept.)


And being Nagaland, there's lots of pork.


This wasn't all the pork, because a few pigs were slaughtered a few days earlier and the meat distributed all over - I.'s sister even came to where I'm staying in Zunheboto to deliver a portion.


Finally, with the food all ready for the feast, there's the entertainment as well. Here the guys were setting up bamboo poles with meat and money hanging from the top. Teams then compete to climb up the pole to get the prizes. It's a game I saw last year in Natha New. Also, the poles are greased with pork fat, since watching the guys slide down the pole as they try to climb up is probably the main highlight of the game.