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.

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.

The Art of Calligraphy and writing is not only the fundamental need of academic knowledge but it is also an essential skill required preserving and promoting religious teachings. It not only requires academic intellects but most important the hand-skill of calligraphy. The origin of the calligraphy as per Lam (Spiritual master) Ugyen Tenzin Yoezer, popularly known as Lopen Nado, who was then the Advisor to the Department of Education on Dzongkha Development in Bhutan says that, there was a natural system of using words and phrases in oral communications such as conversations, discussions, and official announcements, consistent with the general practice. Development of the system of communication through the writing of letters and documentation had not been widespread. During the second visit of Guru Padmasambhava to Bumthang was in the 8th century, he was accompanied by one of his 25 principal disciples’ names Denmang Tsemang. At that time Guru Padmasambava gave the sacred teachings of the Secret Mantra to the King Sindhu Raja, but it was said that there was no system of writing in the country that time. So, it was Denma Tsemang who transcribed the transmitted teachings for the King’s practices and thus the beginning of the tradition of writing in Bhutan.

#유네스코아태무형유산센터 #bhutanculture #bhutan #ichcap \n\nThe Art of Calligraphy and writing is not only the fundamental need of academic knowledge but it is also an essential skill required preserving and promoting religious teachings. It not only requires academic intellects but most important the hand-skill of calligraphy. The origin of the calligraphy as per Lam (Spiritual master) Ugyen Tenzin Yoezer, popularly known as Lopen Nado, who was then the Advisor to the Department of Education on Dzongkha Development in Bhutan says that, there was a natural system of using words and phrases in oral communications such as conversations, discussions, and official announcements, consistent with the general practice. Development of the system of communication through the writing of letters and documentation had not been widespread. During the second visit of Guru Padmasambhava to Bumthang was in the 8th century, he was accompanied by one of his 25 principal disciples’ names Denmang Tsemang. At that time Guru Padmasambava gave the sacred teachings of the Secret Mantra to the King Sindhu Raja, but it was said that there was no system of writing in the country that time. So, it was Denma Tsemang who transcribed the transmitted teachings for the King’s practices and thus the beginning of the tradition of writing in Bhutan.\n\nThereafter in the 15th century, Terton Pema Lingpa (1450-5121) transmitted the writing tradition to his heirs until the dawn of 17th century when Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgyal (1594-1651) established the State Government by initiating the Monastic Body where the Calligraphy section (Yig-zoi-de) was particularly set for the monks to impart and learn art of calligraphy. It was necessary not only or writing and learning for oneself but, for the woodblock engraving projects that was thriving in Punakha Dzong initiated mainly for the flourishment of the Buddhist teaching in the country. Later, the art was perpetuated and practiced by the successive Je Khenpos (chief abbot) and Druk Desis (temporal secular rulers) and Monarchs until now.\n\nGenerally, there are five types of calligraphy writing; U-chen (Block script), U-mey (Headless script), Len-tsa (Rajana script), War-tu (a type of Indian script) and finally the Jog-yig (the typical Bhutanese script). Amongst these scripts, Len-tsa and War-tu scripts are mainly used as decorative scripts, while U-chen is more common in writing Buddhist canons, ritual scripts and even for the formal corresponding letters and Jog-yig script is just for writing formal records and corresponding letters. Regarding U-mey script, though it is rare to its usage bring a Tibetan script but there are some calligraphers knowing how to write.\n\nHowever, the tradition of writing i.e. Calligraphy has been greatly hampered and left on the verge of dying tradition due to the emergence of computer technology and available fonts in the country. Yet, there are still well known and skilled calligraphers which are mostly used by His Majesty’s Kangyur Project for writing Golden Scriptures of Buddhist Canon and even by some individual Spiritual masters which have helped in reviving and revitalizing the art in the country.\n\nFor more information\nhttps://www.ichlinks.com/archive/elements/elementsV.do?nation=BT&page=1&urlAnchor=txt&elementsUid=13874511097589678075&mode=grid&searchText=Calligraphy&orderCd=B&countrys=BT

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.

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.

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.

The Tai communities live in Son La, Lai Chau, Yen Bai and Dien Bien provinces in the Northwest of Viet Nam. Kin Pang Then is one of Then's important rituals of the Tai people. This is the occasion where the Then master and his followers perform a thanksgiving ritual for the Then god. The ritual includes songs and music that symbolically express the journey of the Then Master to travel to the other world to look for the lost souls of the disciples/clients and to call the souls coming back to their bodies. The film is about the destined ritual Master and his ritual performance with Xoe dance for healing, good luck and well being for the local people. The film demonstrates the spiritual life and religious Then practice of the Tai in Northwestern religion in Viet Nam.

The Tai communities live in Son La, Lai Chau, Yen Bai and Dien Bien provinces in the Northwest of Viet Nam. Kin Pang Then is one of Then's important rituals of the Tai people. This is the occasion where the Then master and his followers perform a thanksgiving ritual for the Then god. The ritual includes songs and music that symbolically express the journey of the Then Master to travel to the other world to look for the lost souls of the disciples/clients and to call the souls coming back to their bodies. The film is about the destined ritual Master and his ritual performance with Xoe dance for healing, good luck and well being for the local people. The film demonstrates the spiritual life and religious Then practice of the Tai in Northwestern religion in Viet Nam.