Once a hub of tradition, conversation, and community gatherings, Nagaland’s traditional stone patios, known as dahous in Tenyidie among the Angami Naga tribe, are now fast becoming relics of a bygone era.
The dahou is a unique stone structure built with smooth, rounded rocks meticulously collected from riverbeds. While the construction process may vary slightly across regions, its primary purpose remains consistent—a communal space for gathering and connection.
Rocks are stacked strategically, with soil filling the gaps to reinforce stability, and the top layer is designed in a circular arrangement.
For centuries, dahou symbolised a way of life for the Angami tribe, embodying the community’s enduring skill in construction and their connection to the land.
Built using locally-sourced stones and soil, these patios were designed to last through generations with minimal maintenance.
But with changing times, these once-cherished stone patios have seen a steady decline.
As lifestyles shift and the demands of modern living evolve, the art of constructing and preserving dahou has diminished, threatening the heritage these structures represent.
Traditional dahous were more than just meeting points — they were revered spaces where stories, lessons, and age-old wisdoms were shared.
Community members gather to discuss everything from daily activities and weather patterns to traditional farming techniques and tales of outstanding figures.
Youngsters would sit alongside elders, listening as they sipped local beer from bamboo mugs known as hiepou, learning through oral narratives and strengthening communal ties.
Vilieo Rutsa, a 78-year-old elder from Kohima village, recalls how dahou served as neighbourhood gathering spots, especially during winter afternoons.
“Elders would come to bask in the sun, sharing stories and imparting knowledge,” he recalled. The effort to construct a dahou was communal, with clans and lineages coming together to gather stones, often from distant rivers like the Dzücharü in Kohima.
Without the assistance of vehicles, transporting these stones, some weighing over 30 to 40 kg, was a feat accomplished through sheer determination and unity.
Historically, constructing a dahou or stone monument often marked a person’s achievements or the fulfillment of cultural rituals.
These monuments were deeply embedded in Naga life, honouring the past while standing as a testament to the community’s resilience and solidarity.
Recalling how dahous were constructed, Rutsa said Selie Dahou, which was right above his house, was constructed a long time back as a celebration of the namesake’s wealth.
Apart from dahou, another example of the significance of construction was a stone ritual site called Nanyü Ketsu Tsie.
Rutsa showed the location where his great great grandfather Vinyü Rutsa (Kerutsa) constructed one such site that a person could construct once he had completed the five rituals that were mandatory for a person to qualify to construct such a massive task.
According to the plaque put up at the site by Rutsa, Vinyü was born somewhere around 1814, and when he had turned 80 years around 1894 and completed all the rituals, he constructed the stone monument.
He said he initiated various restoration works for some of the famous stone monuments in the community’s jurisdiction such as the famous Kipu Tsie (village foundation stone), which is an important landmark in Kohima village.
Kipu Tsie was erected by one of the forefathers Üsou, the founder and first settler of Kohima village, and, as the name signifies, the particular stone was laid as the foundation for the village, according to the plaque put up at the site.
Rutsa claimed that all these were indications of how the society was deeply rooted in construction and how it had been a part of their lives.
He said back in olden days, if a person was to construct a house, all his neighbours and clansmen set aside a day for contributing various construction materials such as hay, timber, bamboo ropes and other essentials to ensure smooth construction. And, on his part, the owner would prepare a high protein meal for everyone who helped out.
As most of the traditional houses were bombarded during World War II, he stated that people started using CGI sheets to construct houses and, since these roofs lasted longer, the culture of the entire community constructing houses for individuals gradually fizzled out.
In recent years, there have been efforts to restore some of the old dahous to their original glory. Village elder Neisietuo Liezietsu said he had assisted in the renovation of Therhüliezhü Dahou alongside his community peers. He remarked, “We preserved its original features, strengthening its structural integrity without changing its character.”
Yet, despite these preservation efforts, Liezietsu expressed dismay over how many dahous were being repurposed into mundane structures such as water tanks. He highlighted that such transformations erased not only physical landmarks, but also the cultural narratives they held.
For many elders, these ancient structures are not just architectural feats but profound symbols of Naga heritage, passed down as indelible heirlooms.
They insist that dahous should be preserved as landmarks and legacies of the forefathers.
Liezietsu laments the diminishing importance of these spaces, saying, “These were once the heart of our gatherings. Now, few visit them, and their significance is lost to many.”
And as the last of these stone patios gradually fade into oblivion, they leave behind not just empty spaces but a void in the cultural memory of the people. (This story is part of the KPC-NBOCWWB Media Fellowship 2024)