Active Knowledge Prevention

While researching for an article about Nias traditional houses, I found two prominent scientific papers focusing on the chief's house in Hilimondregeraya village, South-Nias. The first was authored by Mario Alain Viaro from Geneva, Switzerland, and the second by Petra Gruber & Mia Mechler from Vienna, Austria. These papers not only describe the house as the pinnacle of Nias architecture, but also in terms of its rich artistic elements, including carvings, sculptures, and ornaments.

One of the things these papers consistently reiterate is the remarkable earthquake resistance of Nias houses. Viaro, in particular, applied these very principles when designing the Museum Pusaka Nias in Gunungsitoli. It was as if nature itself sought to test his applied technology when a powerful earthquake, measuring 8.7 SR, occurred on 28 March 2005. While 80% of the modern buildings in the region collapsed or were damaged, the museum, much like the traditional houses in the South, remained perfectly intact.

However, this vital knowledge, which Viaro subsequently documented in a book, was regrettably not promoted to the Nias people. Consequently, they were unable to design their own houses with these proven, life-saving principles. One might perhaps excuse this, as the book was written in French and English, languages not commonly known to the average Nias person.

Yet, there is a far more tragic story embedded within the history of the Hilimondregeraya chief's house itself. The owner, so profoundly struck by the ingenuity and beauty of the structure, grew afraid that the chief builder might replicate it elsewhere. Therefore, as part of a ritual, he "offered" the builder by dropping him from the top roof of the new house he had just completed. The builder rolled down and died. This horrifying incident demonstrates that knowledge was not merely withheld, but actively destroyed, thereby undermining the very foundation of scientific advancement that relies on knowledge sharing.

I realise this is a basic attitude in Nias. Those who possess specific knowledge often hide it. They even call it "elemu," akin to black magic. They are only willing to share it against payment for a long learning process. As a result, it seems they actively make it harder for knowledge to advance. Therefore, there has been little progress in medicine, in farming, in architecture, indeed, in almost every area.

And suddenly I realised, this deep-seated reluctance to share knowledge is probably also the reason why I have found it so difficult to find Nias people willing to work together to document the history, culture, and language of Nias – a project I have been running since 2020. I observe that people often think solely of money and immediate benefit, with little passion to preserve their heritage. This has been a source of considerable frustration for me.