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DISCLAIMER: This short note is pratically my long version of the comments I left in this video, which were discussing about “Sasi” or known as “Eha”. Why now? Because today I have the time. Back then, I had no intention to respond to brainless mob of non Indigenous on the topic, nor the willingness to waste my time just to feed a bunch of curious passive slaves. One thing for sure, I feel the obligation to speak for my own, for my people, because I always against the representation of our voice, of ourselves, by those non-Indigenous who self-proclaimed themselves as ally, but side-tracked us from representing our own.
As a member of the Watunapatto tribe, an Indigenous community that has lived for generations on the small, remote islands in the northernmost of Indonesia, I find that explaining our worldview — our cosmology — is not always an easy task, especially to outsiders who don’t share the same deep-rooted connection with the ocean, land, and sky that shapes our daily lives. It is – sometimes – tiring to explain that for us, cosmology is not a set of abstract ideas or distant mythology. It is the foundation of how we live, think, act, and believe. It’s our compass, guiding every step we take, every decision we make, and our entire understanding of existence.
However, because this Friday I found myself bored with all the writing related to works, I decided to take up the challenge to address two main topics in regards to cosmology.
First, the concept of cosmology for Indigenous Peoples, why it is often challenging for non-Indigenous communities to understand its complexity, and how our traditional practices, socio-cultural values, spiritual beliefs, and ways of thinking are intricately tied to the structure of this cosmology.
Secondly, I will take you with me to explore the basic question of why cosmology is so closely related to our physical space of living — why Indigenous communities living in different environmental landscapes have distinctive cosmological structures, and how our own ocean-based cosmology differs from that of other Indigenous Peoples, such as those Amungme who lives in mountainous regions, Dayak Ngaju who stays along rivers, O Hongana Manyawa who occupied deep forest, the Tamblingan who center themselves around the lake, or the Sumbanese who lives is steppe and savanna.
The Meaning of Cosmology for Indigenous Peoples
Cosmology, for Indigenous Peoples, is more than a system of beliefs about the universe’s creation or the forces that govern life.
It’s a living, breathing reality that binds together our understanding of nature, the sacred, and the material world. In many ways, it is the architecture of our knowledge, where spiritual beliefs, cultural practices, and everyday life converge.
For my community, which is deeply connected to the ocean, cosmology encompasses the rhythms of the tides, the migrations of sea creatures, the patterns of the wind, and the mysteries beneath the water. It informs how we fish, when we plant, what we celebrate, and how we relate to one another.
One of the reasons it is challenging for non-Indigenous to fully grasp our cosmology is because, in most modern, Western systems of thought, there is a separation between the spiritual and the material, between the sacred and the mundane. Life is often compartmentalised into distinct categories: religion, science, culture, work.
However for us, these distinctions do not exist.
Our spirituality is not something we practice only in rituals or ceremonies. It is present in every action, from the way we gather food to how we build our homes. Our respect for the ocean is not only about protecting a resource — it is about acknowledging its sacredness, its role in our existence, and our responsibility to maintain its balance.
Take, for example, the practice of “Sasi” or “Eha” in many coastal and island communities in the eastern part of Indonesia. Where certain areas of the ocean, farming area or forest are declared off-limits for fishing or harvesting for a period of time. To outsiders, this may look like a practical measure to prevent overfishing or being simplified as conservation practices. However for us, it is deeply spiritual.
Sasi or Eha is a way of honoring the ocean’s capacity to regenerate, to give life, and to remind ourselves of our place within this cycle. Breaking the “Sasi” or “Eha” is not just a violation of law or custom — it is a violation of the sacred relationship we have with the ocean, and it brings imbalance to our world.
Another example is how we navigate. We do not just rely on physical tools like maps or compasses. Instead, we attune ourselves to the signs of nature — the direction of the wind, the behavior of the fish, the movement of the stars. This is knowledge passed down through generations, and it is not written in books but embedded in our way of life.
When I speak of our cosmology, I am talking about this interconnectedness of knowledge, belief, and practice. It’s about living within the flow of the world, not attempting to dominate or control it.
The Challenge of Understanding Indigenous Cosmology
For many non-Indigenous, understanding this complexity is difficult because it requires a shift in thinking — a move away from seeing the world as a collection of resources to be managed or exploited, and toward seeing it as a living system to be engaged with respectfully. The challenge is not just about understanding our specific practices, like the “Sasi/Eha” or our navigation methods. It’s about understanding the worldview that these practices come from — the cosmology that ties everything together.
One reason why this is so challenging is that modern systems of thought often prioritise objectivity, science, and rationality over what they might see as “superstition” or “tradition.”
In our cosmology, however, what outsiders might call “spiritual beliefs” are not separate from “science.” Our knowledge of the ocean’s currents, the behavior of marine life, or the cycles of the moon is based on centuries of observation and experience. It is a science of its own, one that is deeply integrated with our spiritual understanding of the world.
Non-Indigenous also struggle to comprehend the fact that for us, the land, sea, and sky are not just physical spaces — they are inhabited by spirits, ancestors, and other beings that play a role in our everyday lives. The ocean, for example, is not just a body of water where we fish; it is a sacred space, home to spirits and forces that we must respect.
This is why the exploitation of the ocean for commercial fishing, oil extraction, or tourism is not just an environmental issue for us — it is a spiritual violation, a disruption of the very fabric of our world.
Cosmology and the Indigenous Space of Living
The explanation above brings me to the second point: cosmology is deeply connected to the space we — the Indigenous Peoples — live in.
For my community, living on remote islands surrounded by the ocean, our cosmology is naturally ocean-centric. The ocean is the source of our livelihood, the center of our spiritual life, and the axis around which our cultural practices revolve. Our stories, songs, and ceremonies all reflect this deep connection to the sea. The ocean is our mother, our provider, and our protector. It is also a place of mystery and danger, a force that can nourish us or take life away.
But not all Indigenous communities share this same oceanic cosmology.
Indigenous Peoples who live in mountainous regions, for example, may have a cosmology that revolves around the mountains as sacred spaces, with a different set of values, practices, and beliefs. The mountains, for them, might be home to spirits or ancestors, and their practices of land use, agriculture, and cultural rituals would reflect this relationship with the highlands. They may view the mountains as places of power, refuge, or connection to the divine in ways that are distinct from our relationship with the ocean.
Similarly, Indigenous communities living along rivers may have a different relationship with water compared to those living in coastal or desert areas. For riverine communities, the river might be seen as a lifeline, a source of food, transport, and spiritual cleansing. Their cosmology might focus on the flow of the river as a symbol of life, renewal, and continuity.
In contrast, those living in desert environments may have a completely different relationship with water, viewing it as a scarce and precious resource, with ceremonies and beliefs centered on the importance of water conservation and the sacredness of every drop.
This diversity of cosmologies reflects the diversity of Indigenous experiences and landscapes.
Our cosmology, as island dwellers, cannot be easily separated from the ocean. The waves, the tides, the coral reefs, and the sea creatures are all part of our spiritual and material world. Our ceremonies often take place on the shore, where the land meets the sea, and our rituals involve offerings to the spirits of the ocean, asking for protection, guidance, and balance. Our elders pass down stories about the sea, stories that teach us how to live in harmony with its cycles and its moods.
This is why cosmology is not just an abstract belief system but a lived reality, shaped by the environment we inhabit.
Every Indigenous community has its own unique cosmology, shaped by the land, water, and sky they live under. This is why, when outsiders try to impose a one-size-fits-all approach to development, conservation, or governance, it often fails. Our cosmologies are tied to the specific places we live in, and any changes to those places — whether through deforestation, mining, overfishing, or climate change — affect not just our physical survival but our entire way of understanding the world.
This is why it is important to higlight that our cosmology, as an Indigenous community living on remote islands, is inseparable from the ocean that surrounds us. It shapes how we see the world, how we interact with it, and how we understand our place in it.
Cosmology is a complex, integrated system of knowledge, belief, and practice that is often difficult for non-Indigenous to fully grasp. But it is also essential to our identity, our survival, and our relationship with the natural world.
The diversity of Indigenous cosmologies is a reflection of the diversity of environments we live in. Whether on islands, in mountains, along rivers, or in deserts, each Indigenous community has developed a unique way of understanding and interacting with the world around them. And while our cosmologies may differ, they all share a common thread: a deep respect for the land, water, and sky, and a recognition that we are part of a larger, sacred whole.