FINER DETAILS

Georgia Boscawen hears how the call of a conch shell marks the true start of an Indonesian sea voyage

Moments before the anchor is raised, the crew of the Silolona gathers on the curved wooden main deck. The ropes are still tight at anchor before the classic phinisi sets sail, but nothing can happen until a ritual takes place. Voices drop and silence falls across the deck, as one of the crew in a traditional ikat sarong and a feathered headdress heaves himself up on the capping rail, holding a conch shell and an offering of fruit, coconuts, betel nuts and flowers.

He lifts the shell to his mouth and blows a long and low call through the conch that carries across the water. The call marks the true beginning of a voyage and plays an important role in all Indonesian maritime culture, new and old.

Pemujaan laut (sea worship) has two purposes. The first is as a form of thanksgiving to God or the sea ruler for an abundant harvest and to ask for safety and blessings on the upcoming journey. Bugis sailors of South Sulawesi, Indonesia, believe that the sea is alive, a sentient realm governed by unseen guardians known as dewata laut. This ritual of sound, offerings and prayers asks for calm waters and a guiding wind.

The second role of this natural ritual is respect for the boat itself. Boats – particularly phinisis – are central to Indonesian culture and seen as symbols of identity, heritage and survival. Spiritual beliefs are embedded in their construction. Research from The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology underscores that Southeast Asian maritime practices have traditionally been deeply intertwined with animist spirituality.

This ritual is seen as a dialogue with the divine, and the crew sit and watch it take place with awe and respect.

Long before GPS, weather routing or radios, the sound of the conch would also announce intent, to the sea, to unseen forces and to the boat itself. Neighbouring boats would hear this distant call and know that there were movements nearby. The ritual also takes place at the end of a trip as a form of gratitude for the safe voyage.

And so it remains a regular occurrence on board Silolona, a 50-metre phinisi crafted from tropical hardwoods by the master Konjo boatbuilders of Sulawesi. It takes place too on board her 40-metre sistership Si Datu Bua.

Despite the superyacht-level luxury these boats offer, only after the conch has spoken does the phinisi leave. The sound is deep and reassuring and, even in today’s modern maritime culture, the ritual is taken seriously. In Indonesia, the sea is seen as a living entity, and it’s important to pay it respect.

THIS RITUAL IS SEEN AS A DIALOGUE WITH THE DIVINE, AND THE CREW SIT AND WATCH IT TAKE PLACE WITH AWE AND RESPECT