The bus winds along the road to Bukit Kasih through thick green hills moist with rain. Villages alternate with cornfields not unlike central Iowa's, but nearby hills are covered with coconut trees. “The specialty of this village is cloves,” explains my Indonesian colleague and fellow English teacher Ibu Eltri.
All married women are called “Ibu,” which literally translates as mother, in most parts of Indonesia. This fits with the regional mantra printed on signs and T-shirts, “Torang samua basudara,” which translates, “We are all family.”
Our field trip's destination is Bukit Kasih, which means Love Hill. My headmaster explained it as a neutral meeting ground where Indonesians with different religions could meet and try to understand one another. In 2000, the governor of Minahasa regency chose this nook among volcanic peaks to build five long staircases snaking around steaming hot springs that send milky water trickling down the hillside. There is one staircase for each of five faiths officially recognized in Indonesia— Buddhism, Catholicism, Hinduism, Islam and Protestantism.
At the time of construction, areas nearby were in the throes of violent conflict. Christians and Muslims clashed in riots, beheadings, bombings and reprisals in Central Sulawesi and nearby islands in Maluku, killing or displacing thousands of people. Tempers have since cooled. The spirit motivating Bukit Kasih's creation as a neutral ground for peaceful gathering and mutual understanding now holds sway.
Each staircase takes its own path. They wind along ridges, through steam rising from the hot springs and amongst thickets of forest, each leading to a modest version of its own holy place. Start with the Buddhist way, and you sift through lush forest to a simple Buddhist temple. Begin with the Catholic stairs, and you may take repose at shrines honoring holy Mary along the way to a Catholic church. Climb the Hindu path, and you pass stone faces staring through the mists rising from sulfur springs leading to a Hindu temple. Take the Muslim trail, and you ascend to a holy mosque. Proceed up the Protestant staircase, and you arrive at a protestant house of worship.
All are rigorous routes to the top and reward climbers with lovely views of the valley below, dotted with coconut palms and oozing with fog from the sulfur springs. Each path leads to its own holy place, via its own route, but each path leads to the same summit. At the top of the hill, the houses of worship of these various faiths share common ground. Hikers lead by different versions of the true path to the divine find themselves sharing a single destination.
The place is often shrouded in fog, as the earth's warmth percolates to the surface and belches out through chalky white blowholes and meets the cool, wet air of the surrounding hills. At the top of Love Hill, I breathe the fog half a world away amongst diverging paths and see the metaphor clearly. In Indonesia, as in Iowa and elsewhere, our paths may have more common purpose than we often realize. Perhaps at the end of the climb, we all find ourselves in the same place.
