Pankaz was brought up in a very traditional Kalimantan Dayak family and community, which the rest of the world calls Borneo. No one in his family had ever been to the city and there was a very real sense of suspicion against anyone who had. The traditions of the family and the wider community were held to be very important; more important than wealth, education, social standing or understanding of technology. Some years earlier, a telephone had arrived in the village, attached to the local general store, but hardly anyone used it except in emergency or to send greetings at festival times.
Even so, the work of Muslim and Christian missionaries over the centuries had eroded some of the most esoteric traditions of his family and Pankaz was angered by that fact. Deep down, he desired to reinstate some of the very ancient practices and special beliefs that had maintained his ancestors for generations, centuries even, before the first missionary had arrived. Now at the age of 24, he was arranging to be married to a girl of his choice but who had been approved by the family. The father of the bride-to-be agreed to Pankaz's arrangement for the ceremony, and he was the head man for the community of 5000 souls. It would be the most traditional wedding held in the mountain region for hundreds of years. The girl had not been consulted on the details of the wedding but she let it be known that her father's wishes were her wishes also, as befitted an obedient daughter of the head man.
Salmanta was a beautiful girl of 19 years; the eldest of three daughters of Wanogtun, the hereditary head man of the region. Salmanta's body was the epitome of feminine beauty and erotic enticement. Her breasts were not large but showed all the possibilities of future development and delicious milk production. Her waist was small in comparison to her hips which, themselves, were not over-wide anyway. Her face, legs, arms, and hair had attracted favourable comment for all the years since she had stopped being a girl and became a woman.
Pankaz had arranged the wedding with the chief shaman of the local animist religious group. Their prime religious tenets involve a conflict ending in a mutual, procreative murder of the universe and all its peoples. From the body parts and debris of one universe, the next universe arises stage by stage. This primal sacrificial creation of the universe in all its levels is the ultimate explanation that brings together harmoniously all the seasons of the year, the connection of rivers and land, the tilling of the earth and fall of the rain, the union of male and female, all distinctions between social classes, wars and trade with foreigners; indeed in all aspects of life, even including tattoos on the body and self-imposed mutilations of various kinds.
Pankaz had it in mind to typify the creative universe in his marriage ceremony and had arranged the many components without discussion with Salmanta. Only his own father and his father-in-law were to be were aware of his plans and had given their consent. And so the wedding came to pass on the Erangan-day of Sangawara, one of the nine-day weeks, 61 days after the wedding agreement was made. It was in the cool time of the year, at this stage in the calendar cycle of the Dayak people. That was important for Pankaz's planning.
In preparation for his wedding night, and its nuptial fulfilment, Pankaz had undergone special training and physical initiation. It was a secret in the village but a few of the senior men and also the shaman knew what was happening to Pankaz, and they approved his resolve and his stamina. All would be revealed only at his formal copulation event, after the wedding ceremony.
The wedding ceremony went well, with much eating and drinking, dancing by the girls of the village and singing by the men. The shaman went into a favourable trance after suitable alcoholic preparations, with his loud exclamations of delight and promises for the future. Everyone agreed that the marriage was certain to be successful with many children and many years of good crops in Pankaz's smallholding of land.
As darkness fell, Pankaz left the ceremony and retired to his dwelling, a newly-constructed roundhouse hear his ancestral lands but separated from both family residences by at least 200 strides. That is the tradition: a newly married couple must be seen to be separate and independent of their families. Close enough for mutual support but not so close as to represent a burden or a potential cause for tittle-tattle when disagreement breaks out, as it does in all families all over the world.
Salmanta went to another dwelling with four of her girl friends and prepared herself by bathing and perfuming her body. She received the obligatory enema, which was always administered to new brides before joining their husbands. She was dressed in a short tight-fitting tunic over voluminous trousers made of a very particular lightweight fabric, similar to silk but so fragile that she needed to walk and sit with great care for fear of tearing it. The tunic showed off her breasts and waist to great advantage, and ended in a short skirt down to her mid thighs. She then sat with great care, of course, until the time was right for her to join her new husband. The signal would be the movement of the moon past a particular peak in the distant mountains, and the drunken shaman would choose the exact moment. She waited to be with her Pankaz, wondering what sort of husband he would be, and how he would treat her on their first night together.
At last, the shaman raised his arms and his long staff and shouted a mystical word, not in the Dayak language, but which everyone interpreted to mean, "Now is the time." Salmanta stood up and walked towards Pankaz's dwelling, silently, nervously, surrounded by her girl friends. At the entrance, she turned and waved at them; a gesture common throughout the entire human race to wish someone farewell and good fortune. She entered the roundhouse.