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.

In the communities of Viqueque, particularly among the Tetun-Terik-speaking people, fai-akar—the production of sago flour from the akar palm—is not merely a method of food preparation; it is a cultural ceremony that blends labor, rhythm, and collective identity. At the heart of this tradition is the Tali-Bole dance, a dynamic performance woven seamlessly into the act of pounding sago, transforming a daily task into a vibrant expression of heritage.\n\nThe process of making fai-akar begins with harvesting the inner pith of the akar palm tree, which is then ground and washed to extract starch. This labor-intensive task is done in groups, mostly by women, using long wooden pestles to pound the fiber in large mortars. But what sets this practice apart is the way pounding becomes performance: the coordinated movement of the pestles rises and falls to the beat of chanting and drumming, and the Tali-Bole dance emerges from the rhythm of the work itself.\n\nDancers move in synchrony with the pounding, often stepping in and out of the work line, twirling or waving cloth, and responding to sung verses. The term tali-bole can be interpreted in various ways—some connect it to the image of “binding cords,” others to the swinging motion of the pestles themselves—but in all meanings, it emphasizes connection, unity, and the shared pulse of community labor.\n\nSongs sung during the pounding and dancing are passed down orally and are rich in metaphor and memory. One of the most well-known verses, Lakaleok, is sung toward the end of the session, signaling closure and expressing gratitude. These lyrics often tell stories of ancestors, landscapes, and social values, ensuring that cultural knowledge is preserved even in the most practical of activities.\n\nTraditionally, fai-akar and Tali-Bole were performed during rites of passage, funerals, house inaugurations, and communal feasts. Participation was seen not only as a contribution of labor but as an affirmation of cultural belonging. The rhythmic beat of the pestles and the voices of the singers created a space where work, ritual, and performance blended into one.\n\nAlthough the practice remains alive in some villages, it faces growing challenges. The availability of processed food, the decline of communal labor traditions, and the migration of youth to urban areas have all contributed to its reduced presence. Yet, in places where it continues, fai-akar and Tali-Bole are embraced as sources of pride, often featured at cultural festivals and heritage events to showcase the strength and creativity of traditional life.\n\nTo witness Tali-Bole is to see cultural memory in motion—where hands work, feet dance, and voices carry the wisdom of generations. In every stomp and song, the community reaffirms its bond with the land, its past, and one another.

Performed with grace, dignity, and deep cultural symbolism, Tebe-Lilin is a traditional dance that brings together members of a community in shared celebration, remembrance, and expression. It is practiced in several regions of Timor-Leste and is especially known for its emphasis on unity and peaceful co-existence.\n\nThe word “tebe” refers to a communal line or circle dance, while “lilin” translates as candle or light. Together, the name evokes the image of people dancing around a source of light—both literal and symbolic—illuminating shared values such as harmony, hope, and continuity. Historically, dancers would carry actual candles or use candlenuts wrapped in cotton, creating a flickering trail of light as they moved through the night.\n\nTebe-Lilin* is performed by groups of men and women—young and old—who link arms or shoulders and form lines or circles. They move rhythmically in unison, stepping to the beat of babadok drums and chanting in call-and-response style. The songs are often poetic and metaphorical, expressing themes of love, sorrow, longing, and reconciliation. Each verse is rich with meaning, serving not just as entertainment but as oral literature passed from generation to generation.\n\nThe dance is deeply woven into ceremonial life. It features prominently during sau-batar (corn harvest celebrations), barlake (marriage exchanges), community healing rituals, and memorial events. In each setting, Tebe-Lilin helps strengthen the spiritual and emotional ties among participants. Its circular form is believed to create balance and connection, while the singing creates a space for open emotional expression—an opportunity to share joys and wounds alike.\n\nIn some versions of the dance, the use of light is entirely symbolic. The “candle” represents the enduring spirit of the ancestors, the resilience of the community, or the moral light that guides people through challenges. The act of dancing around it becomes a ritual of reaffirmation—a moment when the community collectively reflects on its path forward while honoring its roots.\n\nThough Tebe-Lilin remains alive in certain communities, it faces challenges. Younger generations are increasingly detached from these communal traditions, and the ritual contexts in which the dance once thrived are becoming less frequent. Elders and cultural leaders continue to play a vital role in teaching the songs, movements, and meanings behind the dance, often through village gatherings, church events, and cultural festivals.\n\nIn its form and spirit, Tebe-Lilin exemplifies intangible cultural heritage at its finest: it is an art form, a social practice, and a vehicle for transmitting identity. Every time the dance is performed, it brings light—not just to the night, but to the hearts and memories of those who dance and watch.

Elegant, joyful, and rooted in everyday village life, Bidu Lensu-Mutin—the White Handkerchief Dance—is one of the most beloved traditional dances in the Suai Loro community of Covalima, Timor-Leste. Performed by young girls with white scarves in hand, the dance is a celebration of welcome, harmony, and feminine grace, passed from mother to daughter over generations.\n\nThe name lensu-mutin comes from the Tetun words for “white handkerchief,” which the dancers carry as they move in coordinated steps and gestures. The origin story, widely shared in oral tradition, speaks of seven girls who danced with white scarves to welcome their community members back from a corn harvest. Their spontaneous joy and coordinated movements captured the spirit of unity and gratitude, and the dance has been cherished ever since.\n\nPerformed during weddings, religious celebrations, community gatherings, and rituals involving sacred houses (uma lulik), Bidu Lensu-Mutin carries layers of meaning. The white scarf symbolizes purity, blessing, and good intentions. Dancers use it to wave, twirl, and gesture in graceful arcs, often moving in circular or serpentine formations that reflect the flowing rhythm of traditional life.\n\nAccompanied by soft babadok drumming and gentle singing in the Tetun-Terik language, the dance creates an atmosphere of warmth and welcome. The songs, often metaphorical, may include blessings for the couple in a wedding, prayers for peace in a community, or expressions of joy and connection. In some versions of the performance, older women sing while the younger girls dance, creating a multigenerational moment of transmission.\n\nLearning the dance happens organically within families and the community. Young girls imitate their older sisters, mothers, and aunts at ceremonies or home gatherings. In recent years, schools have also incorporated the dance into cultural programs and performances, ensuring its continued presence in the lives of younger generations.\n\nWhat sets Bidu Lensu-Mutin apart is its gentle spirit and universal appeal. It does not require elaborate costumes or formal training—just the willingness to move together with grace and intention. The dance represents a form of cultural continuity that is deeply tied to everyday experiences and shared values: welcoming guests, honoring ancestors, and expressing collective joy.\n\nThough still widely practiced in Suai Loro and surrounding communities, cultural leaders recognize the importance of continued teaching and celebration. As modern influences shape young people’s interests and identities, Bidu Lensu-Mutin offers a graceful reminder of the beauty found in tradition and the strength found in unity.

Chewing bua-malus—a combination of areca nut (bua) and betel pepper leaf (malus)—is a widespread and deeply symbolic cultural practice throughout Timor-Leste. While it is often seen as a daily habit, its role goes far beyond oral tradition and personal enjoyment. Bua-malus is inseparable from the fabric of Timorese life, marking every major social, spiritual, and ceremonial moment with its presence.\n\nAt its simplest, the practice involves chewing pieces of areca nut wrapped in a fresh green betel leaf, often accompanied by a pinch of slaked lime (ahu) to release the active compounds and deepen the flavor. The mixture produces a distinctive red juice and is known for its mildly stimulating effects. But in cultural terms, bua-malus acts as a form of communication—an offering, a blessing, a welcome, and a bridge between generations.\n\nIn marriage ceremonies (barlake), bua-malus plays a key ritual role in exchanges between families. During funerals, it may be offered to the deceased or distributed among mourners as a sign of shared respect and continuity. When sacred houses (uma lulik) are built or restored, or when a newborn baby undergoes a fase-matan (eye-opening) ritual, elders may gently rub a paste of bua-malus onto the baby’s eyelids and forehead to protect them and spiritually anchor their life.\n\nElders and ritual leaders (lia-nain) often carry small pouches filled with the ingredients and use them to open or conclude negotiations, calm disputes, or honor guests. Offering bua-malus is a profound gesture of hospitality and peace—it signals trust, respect, and the intention to share one’s truth openly. Refusing it, in some contexts, may even be considered a subtle social offense.\n\nThe act of chewing is often done communally, accompanied by conversation, storytelling, or silence. The red-stained lips and relaxed posture of those gathered in a shaded courtyard or under a tree reflect a rhythm of life tied to land, time, and relationship. Many communities regard bua-malus not just as a habit but as a living heritage—something that must be handed down with care and intention.\n\nDespite its enduring presence, the practice is evolving. Urbanization, health concerns, and shifting social norms have altered how and where people chew bua-malus. Younger generations may engage with it more selectively, and some of the ritual meanings risk being diluted or forgotten.\n\nNonetheless, the cultural power of bua-malus remains strong. Whether offered to welcome a guest, seal an agreement, or bless a new life, this humble bundle of nut, leaf, and lime carries the weight of centuries of wisdom. It connects people not only to each other but to their ancestors, their land, and the values that continue to guide communal life in Timor-Leste.

Tebe-tebe is one of the most widely practiced and deeply cherished traditional dances in Timor-Leste. Rooted in communal identity and spiritual expression, it is performed during a wide range of ceremonies—rituals of healing and harvest, weddings, sacred house gatherings (uma lulik), and commemorative events that bring entire communities together.\n\nAt its core, tebe-tebe is a line or circle dance performed by groups of people—often with women and men linking arms or shoulders—who step and sway in unison to the beat of traditional instruments like the babadok (a hand-held drum). The movements are deliberately grounded and rhythmic, characterized by stomping feet, subtle sways, and communal gestures that convey strength, connection, and balance.\n\nThe dance is accompanied by chanted songs, usually performed in a call-and-response style. These songs are often rich in metaphor, addressing themes of unity, gratitude, remembrance, or negotiation with the spirit world. The lyrics, sung in Tetun or other local languages, carry encoded histories, ancestral teachings, and emotional expressions that elevate the dance beyond entertainment into the realm of cultural storytelling.\n\nTebe-tebe plays a vital role in moments of social and spiritual transition. It may be performed to welcome guests, to celebrate a marriage, to honor the dead, or to invoke protection and blessing during a harvest ceremony such as sau-batar. In each case, the dance serves to activate communal energy and connect the visible world with the ancestral realm.\n\nThe inclusive nature of the dance—performed by people of all ages and social backgrounds—reflects its egalitarian spirit. It is not restricted to professional dancers or experts; rather, it is meant to be shared, learned through observation and participation from a young age. In many villages, elders pass on the steps and songs during festivals and ceremonies, and school programs and cultural centers are increasingly incorporating tebe-tebe into youth education to ensure its survival.\n\nWhile variations exist across regions, the essence of tebe-tebe remains consistent: it is a dance of the people, by the people, and for the people. In its rhythm and repetition, the community finds both cohesion and catharsis—expressing sorrow, joy, solidarity, and reverence through a single, unified movement.\n\nToday, tebe-tebe continues to evolve. It is performed not only in rural rituals but also on national stages, international cultural events, and heritage festivals. And while some modern adaptations have emerged, the traditional forms are still held with deep respect, especially by elders who carry the memory of its ceremonial power.\n\nIn every echo of the babadok and every synchronized step of the dancers, tebe-tebe tells a timeless story—of a people connected to one another, to their ancestors, and to the living land they call home.

“Traditional Hunting of Taiga Dog” offers a powerful glimpse into Mongolia’s enduring nomadic heritage—where nature, history, and survival are deeply intertwined. In the heart of Central Asia, Mongolians have thrived for centuries through the blistering winters, gusty springs, searing summers, and stormy autumns by living in harmony with the land, their herds, and their faithful hunting companions—the Taiga dogs.\n\nThese remarkable dogs, known for their speed, intelligence, and resilience to Mongolia’s extreme climate, have long been indispensable to the Mongolian way of life. For generations, they have stood guard over livestock and ridden alongside hunters on horseback through vast steppes and dense forests. Among nomadic families, the bond between human and dog is sacred.\n\nRooted in ancient history, hunting has not only been a way of life but also a vital method of training warriors. Even under Chingis Khan’s rule, annual hunts were conducted as military drills to sharpen strategy, precision, and endurance. Marco Polo recorded the grandeur of Kublai Khan’s great hunts, where hundreds of falcons and thousands of riders roamed the plains—a testament to Mongolia’s deeply rooted hunting culture.\n\nToday, this legacy lives on. Across Mongolia, an annual Taiga Dog Race is held, celebrating the skill and spirit of these loyal animals while passing knowledge from one generation to the next. The event has grown into a vibrant cultural showcase, drawing both domestic tourists and passionate young hunters committed to preserving this invaluable tradition.\n\nThis film is a tribute to Mongolia’s nomadic resilience, to the enduring friendship between humans and animals, and to a culture that continues to thrive through the wisdom of its ancestors.

The Babadok is a traditional percussion instrument of Timor-Leste, central to the soundscape of communal dance, ritual, and celebration. With its deep, resonant rhythm, the babadok doesn’t just keep time—it sets the emotional pulse of an event, weaving together the steps of dancers, the cadence of songs, and the energy of the gathered community.\n\nTypically made from a hollowed-out log or wooden tube covered at both ends with animal skin—often goat or cowhide—the babadok is lightweight and portable. Struck with the hands or sometimes with short wooden sticks, it produces a sharp, dry beat that is both grounding and expressive. The drumheads are stretched tightly and tied securely with natural fiber ropes, sometimes decorated with paint or carved patterns. Over time, each instrument develops its own distinct tone, shaped by use, climate, and craftsmanship.\n\nIn traditional ceremonies, particularly dances like tebe-tebe or tebe-lilin, the babadok is the heartbeat of the performance. It provides tempo, signals changes in movement, and helps dancers synchronize their steps. More than a musical tool, the babadok becomes a channel through which emotions—joy, sorrow, gratitude—are communicated and shared. During ritual gatherings, it may accompany singing, recitation of oral histories, or moments of spiritual invocation.\n\nThe instrument is most often played by women, though in some regions both men and women participate. Its accessibility is part of its charm—anyone with rhythm, respect, and a sense of the tradition can learn to play. Children often grow up hearing the babadok played at family ceremonies or village festivals, absorbing its patterns and rhythms before they ever try it themselves.\n\nCrafting a babadok is itself an act of cultural care. The choice of wood, the drying and stretching of the skins, and the tying of the drum all follow methods passed down through generations. Elders often guide young artisans in this process, emphasizing not just the technique but the responsibility that comes with creating something used in sacred and social spaces.\n\nDespite its enduring importance, the babadok—like many traditional instruments—faces challenges in modern times. Mass-produced drums and changing musical preferences mean that fewer young people are learning to make or play it. Still, efforts are being made to preserve the tradition, with community performances, school programs, and cultural events placing the instrument back at the center of public life.\n\nIn the rhythm of the babadok, one can hear more than music: it is the sound of continuity, of people moving together, of ancestors remembered and futures imagined. Whether echoing across a dusty dance circle or softly beating in a sacred house, the babadok remains a powerful symbol of Timor-Leste’s living heritage.

Jaggery (Htan Nyat) is very important sweet food stuff in Myanmar which is boiled the toddy palm sap(Htan Yee) so that can be made solid jaggery.It's colour ranges from yellow to brown.Toddy palm tree(Htan Pin) are growing especially in Rural Area of Central Dry Zone of Myanmar such as Mandalay Region, Magway Region and Sagaing Region.The jaggery production can be found as the traditional production in most villages from Kyauk Pa Daung, Myin Gyan, Taung Thar, We Laung, Ye Sa Gyo, Pa Kok Ku, Meik Ti La, Poppa, Bagan and Nyaung Oo township. Other growing areas of Toddy palm tree(Htan Pin) are Lower Myanmar such as Tha Nin Thar Yi Region, Ayeyarwady Region, Dawei, Yebyu, Thaton Districts.\nHere, I would like to express about a traditional jaggery production from Zee O village. Zee O village located in Myay Thin Twin Group,Nyaung Oo Township in Mandalay Region. It locates on the south of Old Bagan and about 25km from Nyaung Oo city. For their seasonal livelihood, they pratice traditional way of jaggery making process through their ancestors for long time ago. Among 200 households of Zee O village, 100 are doing jaggery production. We can see the jaggery production as traditional food for their economic life.\nAccording to the different region, collection time of the toddy palm sap(Htan Yee) is not same. In Zee O village, the sap from male toddy palm (Htan Pho) can only be collected from February to June and the sap from female toddy palm (Htan Ma) can only be collected from April to September. nTo collect sap from the toddy tree,the toddy palm climber uses special tools such as small ladder (Yin Swee) fixed to the upper part of a toddy tree and portable ladder (Yin Htaung) used in connection with the fixed ladder and etc. The work of collecting to sap starts early in the morning. The toddy climber climbs the toddy tree via special ladder attached to its trunk and brings down the pots that have filled with the toddy palm sap overnight, replacing them with empty pots at noon.\nFirst of all,heat the pots(Myu Oe) with dry the toddy palm leaves. Afer heating,the pot are roped.And then,poured the slaked lime into the pot. The one of the important things of the toddy climber is the knife(Dar Hnee) which is needed to sharp.\nSo,the toddy climber grinds the knife before his functions. The toddy climbers of Zee O village are distinct from other places of the toddy climbers. For testing knife is sharp, he cut his hairs himself. And then,he carries about ten pots(Myu Oe) with shoulder-yoke and the sharp knife attached to his waist and goes to the toddy palm trees.\nThere are two ways of collecting toddy juice(Htan Yee) depends on male and female toddy tree. A bit of wood(Ka Laing) is wedged into the top of the toddy palm tree to provide seating while he cuts the flower clusters. When the toddy-udders(Htan Nosh) of male tree become blossom, the climber has to clip the toddy-udders toddy-udders with wooden stick or pounding soften that can get much toddy sap. After that,the toddy climber tied nine or twelve toddy-udders cutting for sap into the pots.\nToddy farmer cut female toddy palm's stalks that have fruits for sap collection. He pounds the base of toddy palm's stalk with a small iron hammer (Zauk Khauk). Toddy farmer slice a little to each fruit to collect toddy sap.\nThe sap has to be filtered leaving behind the sediment of lime(Hton Yee Kyi) is put into a stainless steel boiling pan and boiled for about 45 minutes. According to the different region,the kilns for boiling toddy palm sap are different types.In Zee O village, the kilns are made by digging into the ground so that can work for five boiling pans at the same time. While the sap are boiling, the worker has to stir with flat wooden laddle continuously and also has to be added the seeds or powder of castor oil plant so that it cannot be split into the ground. The boiling and stirring has to be continued to get the suitable condition for moulding of toddy palm syrup was obtained. After that, toddy palm syrup was cooled to make granules by hands. Then,it is also dried for about 15 minutes and jaggery is obtained. nAfter that, export jaggery to the buying centre. The buying centre has to put out to dry with the sun. And then,prepare to trade other regions. Especially, Zee O village trade with Nyaung Oo township and Yangon region.\nThere are some animals to disturb the jaggery production such as mouses,squirrels,butterflies, bats,ants,crows and so on. They suck toddy sap,bite the pot's rope and fruit clusters,throw away faeces into the pot.\nJaggery is completely organic without any chemicals.It is used for Myanmar traditional food such as Mont-lone-yay-paw, Mont-lat-saung,Mont-kywe-thae,Thar-ku-yoo,Mont-lat-kout; etc.\nThere has many nutritional values of jaggery. They are protein, fat, carbonhydrate, energy, calcium, phosphorus, iron, mineral, carotine,vitamin and so on.In medical benefits, jaggery treats cold and cough,purified blood,relieves bone and joint pain,strengthens immunity etc.So,jaggery(Htan Nyat) is very useful for snack and traditional medicine.

Cultural space of Baysun was recognized by UNESCO as the “Masterpiece of Oral and Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity” among the first 19 in 2001. Consequently, in 2008, it was included in the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of the Humanity of UNESCO. Inclusion the space to the List enhanced the opportunity of preservation, documentation and conduct scientific researches of artistic traditions and culture of Baysun district. It is a world bringing together settled and nomadic traditions, Turkic and eastern Iranian peoples. The traditional culture of Baysun, besides Islam, has its roots in ancient cults and faiths. In its folklore one can see traditions with elements of Zoroastrianism and Buddhism, animism and ancestors worship. Grazing patterns have not changed in a thousand years. Livestock are still the main measure of wealth, and gardening is a male tradition. Hand spinning wheels, graters, tandirs, water mills, and blacksmiths using bellows all still exist. National clothes are made, such as doppi and chapans and head scarves for men and women, using craft traditions and local ornamental decorations dating from the tenth and eleventh centuries. Old customs and rituals govern life from birth to death. There is much historical heritage and native wisdom in them.

The Gong khle or Gong Boun (four gongs) is a traditional instrument of the indigenous people, Bunoong living in Mondulkiri province. This instrument is performed for the purpose of entertaining during festivals or other occasions in indigenous villages. This form is in danger due to the lack of transmission. In response to the current situation, the Provincial Department of Culture and Fine Arts has been implementing a number of activities to support the promotion of indigenous peoples’ culture living in Mondulkiri. \nThe instrument is made of copper mixed with silver with a specific measure by the experts. These musical instruments are inherited from their ancestors and they do not know whether other indigenous groups play these instruments. Today, they cannot afford to produce it themselves.\n

Fabric making art has been known in the territory of Uzbekistan since ancient times. Initially fabrics were weaved only from cotton. But in the first and second centuries bce, due to trading along the Great Silk Road, our ancestors learned the secrets of weaving silk fabrics.\n\nThis film includes some of the thirty-two stages involved with making abr fabrics. Rasuljon Mirzaahmedov is the representative of the ninth generation of abr makers. He revived various secrets of abr making as the result of his research on Uzbek fabrics being kept not only in the museums of Uzbekistan but also in Moscow and Saint-Petersburg and in other cities of Europe. As follow up his studies he established ikat weaving workshops in many regions of Uzbekistan as well as in neighboring countries.