Exploring the Kei Islands

Nestled between the Banda Sea and the Arafura Sea, at the heart of the Coral Triangle and on the edge of the Australasian world, the Kei Islands comprise more than a hundred islands. Many of these are uninhabited—or as the local culture Kei may describe them, inhabited by the Orang Hilang-Hilang, the invisible ancestors.

Far from the popular tourist spots of Bali, Komodo, or Raja Ampat, this is a different side of Indonesia: deeply maritime, aligned with the Pacific, and vibrantly alive.

Two main islands serve as the anchors of the archipelago. Kei Kecil is low and made up of coral, encircled by pristine white-sand beaches. In contrast, Kei Besar is mountainous, wild, and lushly forested, with villages that sometimes resemble stone fortresses. Surrounding them are the outer island groups— the Northern Archipelago, the Western Archipelago, and Tam and Tayando—while further afield lie Kur, Aru, and Kaimana.

Kei is situated within Wallacea, a significant transition zone named after Alfred Russel Wallace, which extends eastward by Weber, where the flora and fauna of Asia and Australasia converge. Wallace himself observed a kangaroo in this area, at the westernmost edge of its range. The dwarf kangaroo of Kei's forests—Thylogale brunii—and the cuscus are still residents here. Even the sand is full of life. The extraordinary whiteness of the beaches results from thousands of years of parrotfish grinding coral into fine powder, creating a stunning backdrop for those visiting villas Manoa and beyond.

The people of Kei call their archipelago Nuhu Evav. This region, known for its vibrant culture Kei, boasts three historical languages that are integral to the Kei Islands: Kei, Kur, and Banda. Banda, the language of the Banda Islands, vanished from its homeland following the Dutch conquest and massacre of 1621, yet it survived in Kei Besar among the descendants of Bandanese who fled and settled in Banda Eli and Banda Elat, making it the third language of the Kei archipelago. 

The Kei Islands are, among many things, a place of exile and survival—a refuge where the language, songs, and memories of a displaced people endure. Kei tradition is carried in song, celebrating important events, journeys, alliances, and histories. Those who can sing these tales become living witnesses, as to carry the chant is to carry the language. When a language and its songs fade away, an entire body of memory is lost with them. 

The Kei also preserve a rich memory of diverse and plural origins, with different clans tracing their lineage to Tidore, Seram, Mataram, Luang, Banda, and Romang—interconnected threads in the maritime web that the archipelago has never stopped weaving. On another note, people here are rarely known solely by the names given at birth; many adopt names bestowed by family, status, character, or personal life journeys. Some even seek refuge in the serene villas Manoa, where they can embrace both their heritage and the stunning landscapes of the Kei Islands.

According to tradition, the first ancestors of the culture Kei came from the lanit, the expanse above the clouds. Three brothers and two sisters lived there, and one day, one of them lowered a dog on a rope to discover what lay below. When the dog returned with white sand on its paws, they decided to descend. The place where they came down with their four dogs — Wuat, in Nuhujuut — has been honored since Riedel's time.

The sea surrounding the Kei Islands is not merely a backdrop. At the height of the last Ice Age, around twenty thousand years ago, sea level was more than one hundred meters lower than it is today. Coastal plains now submerged were then dry land. As the water rose, the geography changed dramatically. Kei's oral memory preserved what had been drowned, separated, or lost. The sea functions as a mother, a road, and a bridge between the living and the ancestors.

Kei remembers seven founding places known as the Evav Duun Ainfit: Nirun Vat Faar, Lumefar, Elaar, Ohoidertawun, Vu'ar Dab, Vu'ar Haar, and Tua-Nufit.

The west-facing cliffs of Ohoidertawun — where villas Manoa now stands — became a wall of signs. Here, early Austronesian navigators left the mata prahu, the eye of the boat, alongside hands, human figures, vessels, and the sun, painted in ochre around two thousand years ago.

In the languages that stretch from Hawaii to Madagascar, manu is the term for bird — and it signifies the direction: the bird is the path. On Kei house doors, the manumata, the eye of the bird, continues to watch over the threshold, where offerings are placed for the ancestors.

Nothing in the culture of Kei can be fully understood without the adat — the customary law that still governs villages, ceremonies, relationships, and rights over land and sea in the Kei Islands. Its name is Larwul Ngabal.

The birth of the law

The law was born from a wrong. Ditsakmas — remembered as Nen Dit Sakmas, the Venerable Woman — was the daughter of the traveler Kasdew. She was robbed on the road while traveling to marry Arnuhu, a master boatbuilder from Danar.

On her second journey, she protected her belongings with a white coconut frond, a sign meaning that they were not to be touched. This gesture is remembered as the origin of the sasi.

At Elaar-Ngursoin, between Wain and Danar, nine villages gathered in a great assembly. A buffalo named Siuw was sacrificed and shared among them, and the law was sealed in its red blood. Larwul means the law of red blood.

Its companion, Ngabal — the “spear of Bali” — was agreed upon on Kei Besar, at Ler Ohoilim. Together, they became Larwul Ngabal: two laws joined as one. Larwul governs life and the dignity of the person. Ngabal governs relationships, belongings, and the bonds between people.

The body as the measure of law

The seven articles of Larwul Ngabal take the human body as their measure.

The head rests upon the neck: those who hold authority must protect those beneath them. The neck is sacred: life must not be harmed. The skin encloses the body: a person's dignity and reputation must not be stained. Blood belongs within the body: violence and bloodshed must be prevented.

The remaining articles protect marriage, the household, the dignity of women, and the boundaries of ownership. What belongs to another remains theirs. What belongs to us remains ours.

Sasi, yutut, and hawear

From the seventh article comes the practice commonly called sasi — known as yutut in Kei Kecil and yot in Kei Besar. A place, resource, or territory may be closed so that it can rest, recover, or remain protected. A woven coconut frond is planted as a sign, and the restriction is opened and closed according to the seasons. Its public and visible form is the hawear.

These rules are upheld by the adat authorities: the Raja of a territory, the Orang Kaya of a village, and the heads of clans and houses. Behind them lies a central Kei principle: we dwell where we live and eat from its land and its sea. From this comes the whole idea of limits, obligations, and protection — towards the living, the ancestors, and God.

Taboo, sasi, and offerings — for the visitor

For travelers, particularly those visiting the villages of Manoa, this is not folklore. It is a living contract.

In certain areas — particularly parts of Kei Besar, Kur, Tam, and Kei Kecil, and even more strongly in Aru and the Kaimana region — land and sea cannot simply be crossed without asking. A place may be closed by sasi. Entry may require permission, an offering, or customary compensation presented to the appropriate adat authority, and sometimes to the ancestors associated with the place.

Access should always be requested and never assumed. Manoa arranges these requests in advance whenever possible. They cannot be improvised once visitors have already arrived at the site.

In 1621, the Dutch East India Company violently depopulated the Banda Islands to seize control of the nutmeg trade. Some survivors fled across the sea and found refuge in Kei Besar, where their culture Kei, encompassing language, songs, pottery, and collective memory, continues to thrive in Banda Eli and Banda Elat.

The destruction did not stop with Banda. According to J. G. F. Riedel, after the massacre, the VOC ordered communities on other islands, including Kasui and Kei Besar, to destroy their nutmeg trees to prevent production outside Dutch control. This monopoly was enforced not only through taking the Banda Islands but also by eliminating competing sources of nutmeg throughout the surrounding region.

From time immemorial, the Kei were great boatbuilders of the archipelago. Wallace wrote in 1869 that their forests produced timber considered superior to the finest Indian teak, with each pair of major planks consuming an entire tree. Sadly, today, the greatest of those trees have nearly vanished.

At the end of the nineteenth century, a German sawmill opened in Tual to supply the shipyards of Makassar and Batavia. The wood that bolstered Kei's maritime reputation plunged into another narrative — one of extraction, mission, and trade.

The Kei Islands were never drawn into the spice economy as Banda or Ternate were. Yet nutmeg thrived here, and its destruction was a part of the same colonial monopoly. What Europe did not take in spices, it later appropriated in timber, leaving behind churches, schools, and ports. Langgur, formerly known as Ohoingur, emerged as one of the significant Catholic centers of the southeastern Moluccas.

However, the Kei did not merely receive; as navigators, teachers, and mediators, they became carriers of faith to Papua and other parts of eastern Indonesia.

The naturalist Hermann von Rosenberg, a companion of Wallace, described these islands in the 19th century. In 2025, on Tayando, Noah—fifteen years old—photographed a bird that had been absent from the scientific record since the early 20th century: the Tayandu whistler. Rosenberg's landscapes remain, but for how long, no one knows. Meanwhile, the villas Manoa add a contemporary charm to the enduring beauty of Kei Islands.

The Kei Islands are not visited along fixed itineraries, as each outing depends on the tides, the season, the weather — and above all on the warm culture of Kei and the people who welcome us. A sandbank that appears in the morning may disappear a few hours later. A crossing possible today may have to wait until tomorrow, and a meeting with an elder or a customary chief cannot simply be placed on a schedule; it is offered.

Instead of selling standardized excursions, the villas Manoa create each journey around the natural rhythm of the archipelago and the traditions that continue to shape life here. Some experiences last a few hours, while others require several days of sailing, with nights spent in a village, a traditional house, or a simple camp.

Outings may begin at Manoa, but departures can also be arranged from Debut, Ohoililir, Ngier Varat, Pasir Panjang, Dullah, or the east coast of Kei Kecil, depending on the destination, sea conditions, weather, and available boats.

Your journey is woven from Manoa. Together, we shape a journey that reflects your interests, the tides, the season, the weather, and the people ready to welcome you — not as a fixed program, but as a route woven through the living rhythm of Nuhu Evav.