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.

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.

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.

Joroon Joroo depicts couples dancing while riding on horses strolling at a leisurely pace. This dance originates from the Mongolian folk dance Bii Biyelgee. Bii Biyelgee is a dance arising from the nomadic lifestyle, and was traditionally performed in a small confined space within the ger, next to the stove. The choregraphy is primarily performed using the chest, shoulders, head and wrists, to avoid raising dust indoors. The legs are in a half-sitting position or crossed, only acting to support the torso. It is characterized by the raising of the arms and shaking of the shoulders. It is primarily accompanied by the ekil (violin-like traditional instrument) and the choreography is relatively short in length.\n\nThe various ethnic groups of Mongolia each perform their own unique and creative form of Biyelgee, which all go by different names. As Biyelgee is not just a dance but a form of pantomime which involves wit, emotions and expressions, it requires a high level of technical expertise and patience to master. Biyelgee plays an important role in the Mongolian society composed of a wide range of communities, as a cultural asset reflecting the customs and lifestyles of Mongolian nomads, and a common ground connecting the various ethnic communities. The viability of Biyelgee had been under threat in the recent past, due to a continued decline in the number of transmitters and performing communities, the numbers of trainees and transmitters have been showing stable growth with safeguarding efforts by the UNESCO and the Mongolian government.\n\nCharacteristics:\n∙A branch of Biyelgee dance which uses horses as a motif\n∙Biyelgee was inscribed on the List of Intangible Cultural Heritage in Need of Urgent Safeguarding in 2009\n\nperformed by Mongolian National Song and Dance Academic Ensemble\ndirected by Tseden-Ish Altangerel\nchoreographed by Davaakhuu Altangerel

If beliefs in fertility associated with aspiration of reproduction remains as a cultural sediment; beliefs in ancestor worship exist in various forms not only in the Việt communities but also in the lives of many ethnic groups; beliefs in village titulary worship make communal houses to become special space for religious activities; then beliefs in the Mother Goddesses has not only spread widely, but also formed large worship centers exceeding a village’s and a commune’s space. In other words, the development of beliefs in the Mother Goddesses is a spatial expansion from the North to the South, from coastal region across the delta to the mountains; from remote areas to urban centers in Viet Nam. Beliefs in the Mother Goddesses is a process of integrating and combining folk beliefs and religious activities of the Việt people and of other ethnic groups such as the Tày, Nùng, Tai, Dao, Cham, Khmer, etc which forms a specific type of Vietnamese folk belief sustainably developed for a long time.

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.

Cultural Space of Gong in Central Highlands covers all the fertility red soil in the territory of 5 provinces including Kông Tum, Gia Lai, Đắc Lắc, Đắc Nông, and Lâm Đồng. \nIt is the place where the Ba Na, the Gia Rai, the Ê Đê, the Xê Đăng, the Jẻ Triêng, the Mạ, the M’Nông, the Cơ Ho, the Brâu, the Rơ Măm,… have been residing for a long time. These ethnic groups live in small villages named pơ lây, buôn, bon and living mainly by agricultural cultivation, animal husbandry and benefitial resources of the nature.\n

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.

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.

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.