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Good thing the Abui tribe no longer headhunts. Although on Indonesia’s remote Alor island, a village elder menacingly pointed a rustic bow and arrow at me, his time-etched face stoic and his white hair capped by a candelabra-like ornament of feathers. A sharpened machete protruded from a sheath belted to his one-shouldered ancestral sarong.

Turns out, accompanied by beating drums, clanging gongs, and shrill unnerving shrieks, this was part of an Abui welcoming rite. After that hello, I soon joined traditionally dressed villagers in the emotionally stirring “lego-lego” circle dance, our arms interlocked around other’s waists in a powerful, joyful symbol of unity. The women’s brass ankle bracelets rhythmically jangled with each barefooted stomp

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