Man and Mountain

The 80-year-old man entrusted by royalty to watch over Mount Merapi's ("Fire Mountain” in the local language) spirits is going nowhere — and insists the mountain is safe. "There is no risk," Maridjan said outside his home just four miles from the crater, which was billowing ash and searing-hot gas clouds. "I am still waiting here." This is a real-life drama that pits modern science against an ancient culture, played out on the verdant slopes of one of the world’s most active volcanoes. Maridjan, jokes constantly with visitors and occasionally falls into a trancelike state while looking at the peak. He was given the official title of "key holder of Mount Merapi" by the late king of the nearby court city, Jogjakarta.

He leads yearly ceremonies when rice and flowers are thrown into the crater to appease spirits that he and the villagers believe live over the mountain, which rises from the heart of Indonesia's mystical island of Java. It is believed that the mountain provides for them, and in return, they give offerings of rice and fruit to the rivers and streams, and at least once a year Maridjan climbs to the volcano’s crater and gives a live offering of an animal.

His refusal to budge is angering local authorities in charge of evacuation efforts. They say he is setting a wrong example, discouraging 30,000 villagers from leaving. “These people are listening to what they say are spirits from the mountain,” said one frustrated disaster worker, “they have lost confidence in the scientists.” The locals say they know “Fire Mountain” better than the experts armed with high-tech devices. They believe the spirits of the volcano are not angry enough to explode.

Maridjan, who inherited the honorary position from his father, insists he will not go, saying he is waiting for a sign from the long-dead king who appointed him. A handful of other people in his village are also staying behind with him. Maridjan says there "are many spirits above the mountain, too many to count." Visitors to Maridjan's house address him as Mbah, an honorific title meaning grandfather, and speak to him in a high form of the local language reserved for people of status.
"He has a special connection to Mount Merapi," said Eko Rudi, as he walked off to perform the midday Islamic prayer. "When I am with him, I feel like a child talking to his father."
Slamet, a 32-year-old farmer explained why he will not leave the mountain. “Allah will protect us and so will the spirits.” He is Muslim, as are 90 percent of this nation’s 220 million people, but, he and his mountain neighbors also hold animist beliefs. These men have been known to gather naked in groups at night and run in circles around their villages to ward off an eruption. In the early hours of Friday morning, a group of two dozen farmers set off on a silent march around one of the villages three miles from the lava flows. They said the march was an appeal to the volcano spirits to “calm” the mountain. They were followed by journalists for a half an hour before saying they needed privacy. One reporter was told later than many of the men wanted to walk naked without the cameras.