Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, 2008\nCultural space of Boysun was proclaimed a Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2001 and inscribed onto the Representative List of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2008.This film contains information about the Boysun district’s nature and the cultural processes related to craftsmanship, folk performance, traditional medicine, and others.Strong aspiration to preserve traditional lifestyles of the local people was observed during filming process in 2016 and 2017. An example of this is the increasing number of followers of the folk-ethnographic ensemble called Boysun.

Kin Pang Then is a traditional ritual of the Tai ethnic group in the northwest region of Vietnam to welcome and thank the deity known as Then. In the ritual, Then comes down to grant blessings on villagers and heal those whose souls are sick. The beneficiaries of the ritual are obliged to participate in the next Kin Pang Then ritual. The whole process of greeting and sending off the deity is intended to bring harmony and unity to all community members who participate in and enjoy the ritual. \nThis video shows the spiritual life of the Tai people and a master performing the ritual to bring good luck and wellbeing to the local people.

Cultural space of Boysun was proclaimed a Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2001 and inscribed onto the Representative List of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2008.\nThe current film contains information about the Boysun district’s nature and the cultural processes related to craftsmanship, folk performance, traditional medicine, and others.\nStrong aspiration to preserve traditional lifestyles of the local people was observed during filming process during 2016 and 2017. An example of this is the increasing number of followers of the folk-ethnographic ensemble called Boysun.

Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, 2016 Navruz is celebrated in Iranian cultures such as Tajikistan. As it is a happy festive day to welcome the spring after the long winter, the children enjoy various games. This video shows the children at play. Girls wear traditional Tajik costumes, and boys wear formal clothes while playing games like pebꠓble tossing and catching, kite flying, stick tossing, skipping rope, hacky sack, arm wrestling, swinging, breaking eggs. They also sing, allowing viewers to also feel cheerfulness of a festive day and become quite comfortable.\nLabchang, a musical instrument known from ancient times, received its name because it is placed between the lips and is played by a finger. Some old people in a few areas of Tajikistan continue to play labchang, so the art of playing has almost disappeared. The young generation generally doesn’t even now about the instrument. This film is dedicated to the methods of play on various types of labchangs in different parts of Tajikistan.\nVarious dance forms are performed in relation to nature throughout Tajikistan. The dances are varied, mainly having an imitating character. Performed by folk artists, the dances are transferred from generation to generation. Some of the rare dances are gone with their performers. The Pamiri people perform a rare mourning dance that is currently performed only in Bartang Valley and is on the verge of disappearances. Other dance forms are being revived day by day.

This melody is the specific part of ritual that dedicated to the swift horse and jockey for relaxing before and after the horse race. Mostly, this melody is singing at the before the race and after race and also in the long-distance training of swift horse. The tradition of singing a giingoo (jockey songs) before race or during the title recitation meant to encourage and calm the horses. The giingoo (zeengoo) and marzai share similar features with urtiin duu songs as wide-ranging vocal melodies and rhythms. The marzai is a well-wishing religious spell of Odserjmaa deity for well-being of jockey and a horse.

The film is about a traditional Kyrgyz form of folklore—lamentation (koshok). Experts talk about the contents of Kyrgyz lamentation, the situations in which koshok is performed (lamenting the deceased or the bride, when she is sent to the groom’s family) and about how to perform traditional lamentation.

Tara-Bandu is one of Timor-Leste’s most enduring systems of customary law—an ancestral method for maintaining harmony between humans, nature, and the spirit world. Practiced across many municipalities, this tradition involves the collective setting of social and environmental rules by the community, enforced not by police or government, but by deep-rooted respect for customary authority and ancestral belief.\n\nThe term “tara-bandu” itself means “to suspend” or “to declare a prohibition.” At its core, it is a communal agreement to protect certain aspects of life—be it sacred forests, clean water sources, agricultural land, or interpersonal relationships. Violating a tara-bandu is believed to bring not just social disapproval, but also spiritual misfortune, such as illness, crop failure, or even death.\n\nThe process of establishing a tara-bandu involves an elaborate ceremonial act led by lia-nain (customary custodians), elders, spiritual leaders, and village chiefs. At the heart of the ritual is the symbolic installation of the prohibition. This may take the form of hanging a tree branch, an animal skull, or even a bound bundle of leaves at the boundary of a protected area. These symbols serve as visible markers that the space or behavior they refer to is off-limits.\n\nEach tara-bandu is tailored to local needs. In some communities, it may prohibit cutting down trees from a specific forest. In others, it may regulate marriage customs, resolve conflicts, or prevent theft and violence. The process is highly participatory: villagers gather in large open-air meetings to discuss the rules, agree on penalties, and publicly reaffirm their commitment to uphold the communal values.\n\nThe ceremony itself often includes the sacrifice of an animal—commonly a pig, goat, or chicken—as an offering to the ancestral spirits. A traditional oath is spoken, and traditional liquor (tua sabu) is sometimes poured on the earth as a gesture of sealing the agreement. These rituals symbolize not only human consensus but a spiritual pact between the living and the unseen world.\n\nBeyond its legal implications, tara-bandu has an environmental and ethical function. It teaches respect for natural resources, encourages collective responsibility, and reinforces peaceful coexistence. It also represents an indigenous system of governance, reminding the Timorese people that long before modern institutions, their ancestors had mechanisms to resolve disputes and protect what mattered most.\n\nIn the years following independence, tara-bandu experienced a significant revival. Communities, NGOs, and government bodies alike have recognized its value—not as a relic of the past, but as a living, adaptable tool for building resilient societies. It is now being integrated into conservation projects, natural resource management plans, and even civic education programs in schools.\n\nStill, its continued vitality depends on intergenerational transmission. Elders must be supported in sharing their knowledge, and younger generations must be empowered to see the relevance of tara-bandu in today’s context. As both law and ritual, tara-bandu is a shining example of how intangible cultural heritage can guide communities in shaping a sustainable, respectful, and united future.

The Kaiui—also known as fui or be’u in different regions—is a traditional bamboo flute of Timor-Leste, cherished for its gentle, evocative sound that once echoed across rice fields, hilltops, and quiet village evenings. Long associated with solitude, emotional expression, and storytelling, the Kaiui is more than just a musical instrument—it is a vessel of memory and connection.\n\nTraditionally crafted from au-fafulu, a specific type of bamboo, the Kaiui features seven tone holes and is often about the length of a forearm. A key part of its design is the use of a corn cob or similar material to block part of the internal chamber, modifying the flow of air and shaping the distinctive tone. The player blows across the top opening while controlling the pitch with their fingers, producing melodies that are haunting, meditative, and subtly expressive.\n\nFor generations, the Kaiui was used by boys tending livestock in the fields, especially in the early mornings or during midday rest. It was played to pass the time, soothe animals, or simply to ease loneliness. Others used it to express feelings of longing—especially in matters of love, separation, or remembrance. In many communities, the flute is considered a deeply personal instrument, capable of giving voice to emotions that are otherwise difficult to speak.\n\nThe art of playing Kaiui is learned informally, typically by observing and mimicking older siblings, parents, or elders. There is no standard notation; the music lives through imitation, memory, and improvisation. Songs vary from region to region and even from player to player, with some tunes tied to seasonal rhythms or traditional events like sau-batar (harvest ceremonies) or rites of passage.\n\nThe Kaiui also plays a role in certain rituals and ceremonies, where its sound is believed to create a space of calm, welcome ancestral spirits, or accompany reflective moments. Its simple construction and natural materials reflect a worldview grounded in harmony with the environment—a flute made entirely from what the land provides, played under the open sky.\n\nToday, however, the practice of making and playing the Kaiui is increasingly rare. As younger generations turn to electronic music and imported instruments, the quiet music of the bamboo flute is fading from everyday life. In some communities, it survives primarily as a cultural demonstration during festivals or heritage programs.\n\nEfforts to preserve the Kaiui are now underway through workshops, school projects, and intergenerational exchanges. In these spaces, the flute is not only played but celebrated—as a living symbol of Timor-Leste’s musical heritage and a gentle reminder of how sound, memory, and identity are woven together in the simplest of forms.

Along the coastal regions of Timor-Leste, especially in areas where seawater meets fertile land, communities have preserved a unique tradition known as Tein-Masin—the age-old practice of salt making. More than just a method for producing seasoning, this practice reflects generations of local knowledge, environmental adaptation, and cultural ritual.\n\nThe process begins with the careful selection of salty earth, which is usually dug from the beach or coastal swamps. This salt-rich soil is placed into large woven baskets or wooden containers and then carefully filtered using fresh water collected from nearby springs. The resulting brine is collected in clay pots or metal vessels and then boiled over a wood fire for hours—sometimes days—until only fine salt crystals remain.\n\nSalt production is typically carried out by women and elders who have mastered the delicate timing and techniques required for successful extraction. Every step—from gathering the earth to managing the fire’s intensity—demands attention, patience, and experience. It is common to see family members working together, with children helping to fetch water or gather firewood, making it both a household activity and a community effort.\n\nBefore the salt-making begins, it is customary to conduct a ritual led by a lia-nain (traditional spiritual leader) or elder. An animal, often a chicken, is sacrificed and its blood is offered to local spirits as a request for protection and success. This ritual underscores the belief that nature’s resources must be treated with respect, and that balance between human needs and the environment must be maintained.\n\nSalt produced through Tein-Masin is more than a culinary product—it is a symbol of cultural resilience and a vital part of local economies. It is exchanged in traditional markets, used in rituals, and stored as a valuable household good. In times of hardship or isolation, it has even served as a form of currency.\n\nToday, while industrial salt is widely available, many communities still choose to practice Tein-Masin, valuing not only the quality of the hand-made salt but also the cultural meaning embedded in its production. Yet, challenges remain: the practice is labor-intensive and yields are modest, and younger generations are increasingly drawn away by urban migration and modern lifestyles.\n\nPreserving Tein-Masin means more than protecting a traditional technique—it means safeguarding a way of life shaped by harmony with nature, intergenerational collaboration, and deep spiritual connection to the land and sea.

Sau-Batar is one of Timor-Leste’s most cherished agricultural ceremonies, marking the successful harvesting of corn—batar, the staple crop that lies at the heart of both sustenance and spiritual life for many communities. Far more than an agricultural routine, this ritual reflects a worldview where nature, ancestors, and community are deeply intertwined.\n\nThe ceremony typically begins with a symbolic act called “taking out the old corn and bringing in the new.” This signifies a transition between agricultural cycles and expresses gratitude to the spirits of the land for their blessings. Families gather at their sacred houses (uma lulik), bringing both harvested corn and cooked rice to share in a ritual meal that reaffirms communal bonds.\n\nCentral to the ritual is the lia-nain—a customary elder responsible for oral tradition and ritual practice—who recites prayers, chants, and invocations handed down through generations. These words are not merely spoken; they are believed to activate ancestral protection and ensure future abundance. The corn offered during the ceremony becomes sacred, often preserved in specially designated granaries or placed on altars within the sacred house as a gesture of respect to the ancestors.\n\nMusic and dance are vital parts of Sau-Batar. Performances of Tebe Lilin (Candle Dance) and other local dances transform the occasion into a festive gathering, where movement and rhythm mirror the unity and joy of a successful harvest. The babadok drum keeps the beat as men and women, elders and children, participate in a shared expression of thanks and renewal.\n\nThe ceremony also involves the symbolic sharing of corn among relatives and neighbors, emphasizing that harvest is not an individual achievement but a collective gift. In some cases, leftover corn from the previous season is burned or ceremonially discarded to make room for the new yield, representing a fresh start and spiritual cleansing.\n\nBeyond its religious and social meanings, Sau-Batar also serves as a moment of informal education. It is during this event that younger generations hear the stories of how rituals are performed, why they matter, and what each gesture or offering means. Through active participation, children and youth absorb the knowledge of land stewardship, spiritual ethics, and cultural identity.\n\nIn recent years, as commercial farming methods expand and traditional schedules shift, Sau-Batar has faced challenges. Yet in many rural areas, the ceremony continues to be practiced with dedication, often with support from local schools and cultural preservation initiatives.\n\nFor the communities that uphold it, Sau-Batar remains a vital link between past and present, the visible and the invisible, and the land and its people. It is a ceremony not just of harvest, but of harmony—a living tradition that continues to nourish both body and spirit.

▶ Play Video 4. A Sound for the Spirits The Buklog of the Subanons\nThis is a shortened version of the Travel Time episode “A Subanon Celebration,” which was first aired on Filipino television on March 21, 1996. This episode has been modified from its original format.\n\nAnimals were offered in the context of the Subanon cultural ritual.\n\nThe Subanon or Subanun people of the upstream may be found on the western Peninsula. The population core areas are in Katipunan. The known subgroups parallel the linguistic variations and micro-adaptations to social and physical environment and comprise: (1) Misamis, (2) Lapuyan, (3) Sindangan, (4) Tuboy, and (5) Salug.\n\nThe cultural and technological adaptation is upland riverine. They practice swidden cultivation on mountain slopes. The traditional settlement pattern is highly dispersed with a few residential structures on top of ridges near potable water sources. The houses are placed adjacent to cultivated fields. They favor locations near springs where water gushes out of rocks over contiguous to streams.\n\nRice is the preferred food crop, but fields are also rotated and intercropped, planted with corn, sweet potato, and cassava. Land problems and soil degradation have forced some of the people to recourse to wet rice agriculture where the topography allows. Metal craft and backstrap weaving are practiced. They have maintained trade with coastal peoples for centuries, as indicated by the presence of Asian stone and ceramic trade wares. Present-day Subanon are usually nonaggressive. There are indications that in the past, the people were required to provide a “soul companion” for an important deceased relative.\n\nUnique to the Subanon is their set of rituals, the buklog, the main feature of which is a huge dancing platform (buklogan). This structure is raised some 10 to 18 feet high and consists of a highly resilient platform supported at the corners by upright posts. A long pole is passed through the middle of the platform and extends upwards like a maypole. Below it is a short thick hollowed log that lies above a trench filled with empty jars functioning as resonating chambers. The pole rises and falls when dancers rhythmically bounce on the platform. The booming sound invites people to come and join in the ritual and festival. There is feasting, wining, and dancing lasting for days, with as many as two hundred people dancing on the buklogan continuously, day and night.\n\nThe ritual consists of a complex set of rites performed before the culminating event, usually near waterways, and which serve to propitiate spirits. The buklog is a prestige ritual that has a multitude of functions, such as celebrating well- being and a good harvest, and giving thanks to appease spirits after an illness. It may also honor personalities, welcome back homecomers, or praise a new timuay (leader). Finally, it is held to pay respects to the spirits of the dead, for the final sending of the spirit of the ancestor and the death anniversary of a grandparent.\n\nThe Subanen form a subgroup and are related to the Subanon but are concentrated in Siocon, Zamboanga del Norte.

Rooted in the ancestral traditions of the Fatumea and Fohorem communities in Covalima Municipality, Tebe Otas-Uluk is more than a dance—it is a collective act of memory, identity, and reverence. The name itself combines “tebe” (a traditional line dance) with Otas (ancestor) and Uluk (first or origin), signaling a ritual expression dedicated to those who came before.\n\nTraditionally performed by the elders of the community, this dance takes place during important communal gatherings such as ceremonies of healing, protection, thanksgiving, or agricultural celebration. Participants often wear traditional attire and move in side-by-side formations, linked by hands or shoulders, stepping rhythmically in unison to the beat of local drums, gongs, or the babadok (a hand-held percussion instrument). The dance circle forms a symbolic space where the living and the spirits of the ancestors meet.\n\nWhat sets Tebe Otas-Uluk apart is its solemn and purposeful character. The movement vocabulary is simple yet powerful: synchronized steps, grounded footwork, and fluid arm gestures that flow with the communal rhythm. Songs are chanted throughout the dance in the Tetun-Terik language, often carrying metaphorical meanings related to the land, family, and the ancestors’ wisdom. The lyrics function as oral archives, preserving knowledge and history that is not written but remembered through voice and motion.\n\nBecause of its deep spiritual roots, this dance is only performed on specific occasions, often after traditional leaders conduct consultations with spiritual entities or conduct rituals to prepare the ground. Each gesture, each chant, is believed to activate a connection to the ancestral realm—inviting blessings, healing, or protection for the community.\n\nIn recent years, however, the practice has become increasingly rare, with fewer young people learning the movements or understanding the embedded meanings. Despite this, dedicated elders continue to lead and teach the dance, ensuring its survival as a living heritage. For them, Tebe Otas-Uluk is not simply a performance—it is a prayer in motion, a ceremony that anchors the community to its origins and affirms its cultural continuity.