DAYAK CURE OF DISEASE--EVIL SPIRITS AND GOOD--ANIMISM--BLIANS, THE
PRIEST-DOCTORS--THE FEAST OF RUBBER-GATHERERS--WEDDINGS--IN PRIMITIVE
SURROUNDINGS
A day or two later the kapala, evidently solicitous about our comfort,
asked permission to perform for three consecutive nights certain rites for
the purpose of curing several sick persons. The reason for his request was
that they might be noisy and prove disturbing to our rest. The ceremonies
consisted in singing and beating drums for three hours, in order to
attract good spirits and drive away the evil ones that had caused the
illness. One of the patients, who had malaria, told me later that he had
been cured by the nightly service, which had cost him forty florins to the
doctor.
Among the aborigines of Borneo whom I visited, with the possible exception
of the Punan nomads, the belief in evil spirits and in good ones that
counteract them, both called antoh, is universal, and to some extent has
been adopted by the Malays. Though various tribes have their own
designations (in the Duhoi (Ot-Danum) ùntu; Katingan, talúm; Kapuas,
telún; Kahayan, kambae), still the name antoh is recognised throughout
Dutch Borneo. Apprehension of evil being predominant in human minds, the
word is enough to cause a shudder even to some Malays. There are many
kinds of both evil and good antohs; some are male, some female, and they
are invisible, like the wind, but have power to manifest themselves when
they desire to do so. Though sometimes appearing as an animal or bird, an
antoh usually assumes the shape of a man, though much larger than an
ordinary human being. Caves in the mountains are favourite haunts of evil
antohs. In the great rivers, like the Barito and the Katingan, are many of
huge size, larger than those in the mountains. Trees, animals, and even
all lifeless objects, are possessed by antohs good or bad. According to
the Katingans the sun is a benevolent masculine antoh which sleeps at
night. The moon is a feminine antoh, also beneficent. Stars are the
children of the sun and moon--some good, some bad.
To drive away malevolent antohs and attract benignant ones is the problem
in the life philosophy of the Dayaks. The evil ones not only make him ill
and cause his death, but they are at the bottom of all troubles in life.
In order to attract the good ones sacrifices are made of a fowl, a pig, a
water-buffalo, or, formerly, a slave. Hens' eggs may also be proffered,
but usually as adjuncts to the sacrifice of an animal. If a child is ill
the Katingan makes a vow that he will give Antoh from three to seven eggs
or more if the child becomes well. If it fails to recover the offering is
not made.
The blood is the more precious part, which the Bahau of the Mahakam, and
other tribes, offer plain as well as mixed with uncooked rice. The people
eat the meat themselves, but some of it is offered to the well-disposed
antoh and to the other one as well, for the Dayaks are determined to leave
no stone unturned in their purpose of defeating the latter. The Duhoi
(Ot-Danums) told me: "When fowl or babi are sacrificed we never forget to
throw the blood and rice mixture toward the sun, moon, and 'three of the
planets.'" With the Katingans the blian (priest-doctor) always drinks a
little of the blood when an animal is sacrificed.
Singing to the accompaniment of drums, gongs, or the blian's shield, and
dancing to the sound of drums or gongs, are further inducements brought to
bear on the friendly antohs, which are attracted thereby. According to the
belief which prevails in their primitive minds, the music and dancing also
have a deterrent effect upon the malicious ones. Both evil and good antohs
are believed to congregate on such occasions, but the dancing and music
have a terrifying effect on the former, while on the latter they act as an
incentive to come nearer and take possession of the performers or of the
beneficiary of the function by entering through the top of the head. A
primitive jews'-harp, universally found among the tribes, is played to
frighten away antohs, and so is the flute.
A kindly antoh may enter a man and become his guardian spirit, to whom he
occasionally offers food, but it never remains long because that would
make the man insane. One must not step over a person, because a benevolent
antoh that may be in possession is liable to be frightened away, say the
Katingans and other Dayaks. In dancing with masks, which is much practised
on the Mahakam, the idea is that the antoh of the animal represented by
the mask enters the dancer through the top of his head.
The Penihings and Long-Glats of the Mahakam have an interesting belief in
the existence of a friendly antoh which reminded me of the superstition of
the "Nokken" in the rivers of Norway. It lives in rivers, is very rarely
beheld by mortals, and the one who sees it becomes rich beyond dreams of
avarice. The Long-Glats call it sangiang, a survival of Hindu influence.
An old man in Long Tujo is reported to have seen this antoh, and according
to him it had the appearance of a woman sitting underneath the water. No
doubt other tribes have the same belief.
The most famous of antohs is the nagah, which may be good or evil,
according to the treatment received from mortals, and being very powerful
its help and protection are sought in a manner later to be described in
connection with my travels on the Mahakam. The nagah guards underneath as
well as above the surface of water and earth, but the air is protected by
three birds which are messengers, or mail carriers, so to speak. They are
able to call the good antoh and carry food to him; they are also
attendants of man and watch over him and his food. Fowls and pigs are
sacrificed to them as payment. They are--the tingang (hornbill), the
sankuvai (formerly on earth but now only in heaven), and the antang (red
hawk). As these birds are called by the same names in the tribes of the
Katingans, Ot-Danums, Kahayans, and others, it may be presumed that their
worship is widely prevalent in Borneo.
Among most if not all native races certain persons occupy themselves with
religious services and at the same time cure disease. In Borneo, as far as
my experience goes, these priest-doctors, whether male or female, are
generally recognised by the name blian, or balian. Although some tribes
have their own and different designations, for the sake of convenience I
shall call them all blians.
While there are both male and female blians, the service of women is
regarded as more valuable, therefore commands higher remuneration than
that received by men. A Dayak explained to me: As there are two sexes
among the antohs, so there are also male and female blians. He or she on
occasion pretends to be possessed of helpful antohs, in some parts of
Borneo called sangiangs. Besides assisting the blians in their work they
enable them to give advice in regard to the future, illness, or the
affairs of daily life. A blian may be possessed by as many as fifty good
antohs, which do not remain long at a time. Although in the remote past
men sometimes saw good or evil spirits, at present nobody is able to do so
except blians, who also sing in a language that only they and the antohs
understand.
The blian does not know how to take omens from birds and read the liver of
the pig. There may be one expert along this line in the kampong and there
may be none. The blians of the tribes visited by me can neither make rain
nor afflict people with illness. Among the Long-Glats I saw them directing
the great triennial feast tàsa, at which they were the chief performers.
The constant occupation of the blians, however, is to cure disease which
is caused by a malicious antoh longing to eat human blood and desiring to
drive away the human soul. When hungry an antoh makes somebody ill. The
blian's rites, songs, dances, and sacrifices aim to induce a good antoh to
chase away or kill the evil one which has taken possession of the patient,
and thus make an opportunity for the frightened soul to return, which
restores the man to health. This, without undue generalisation, is a short
summary of the religious ideas which I found on the Mahakam and in
Southern Borneo, more especially those of the Penihing, Katingan, and
Murung. Further details will be found among descriptions of the different
tribes.
Shortly afterward we all made an excursion up the river as far as Batu
Boa, which, as is often the case, contains a Dayak as well as a Malay
kampong. At the first one, a forlorn and desolate looking place, the
kapala, who had an unusually large goitre, told me that eighteen men had
been engaged by the captain for his journey northward from there, which
definitely precluded any prospect of ours for an overland expedition, even
if under other conditions it would have been possible. As for the Malays,
I found them rather distant, and was glad to return to Tumbang Marowei.
Here a singular sight met us in a sculptured representation of a
rhinoceros with a man on his back, entirely composed of red rubber,
standing on a float and surrounded by a number of blocks made of the same
material. White and red pieces of cloth tied to upright saplings on the
float added a certain gaiety to the scene. Some of the kampong people had
just returned from a rubber expedition, and part of the output had been
cleverly turned into plastics in this way.
The rhino was about seventy-five centimetres high, strong and burly
looking, and the posture of the young man on his back conveyed a vivid
suggestion of action. They were now on their way to sell this to some
Chinaman. The image was said to be worth from two to three hundred
florins, and as there was considerable additional rubber, perhaps all of
it approached a value of a thousand florins. Bringing this rubber from up
country had occupied eighteen days, and it was the result of ten men's
work for two or three months. Twice before during the last two years
rubber had been brought here in the same manner.
First they considered it essential to make a feast for the badak (the
Malay name for rhinoceros). When going out on their expedition they had
promised to make a badak effigy if they found much rubber. As the man on
its back represented the owner, there was the risk that one of the souls
of the latter might enter his image, resulting in illness for the owner,
to avoid which a pig would have to be killed and various ceremonies
performed.
The festival was scheduled to take place in three days, but it had to be
postponed one day on account of difficulties in procuring the pig. I
presented them with three tins of rice and another half full of sugar,
which they wanted to mix with water to serve as drink because there was no
rice brandy. It required some exertion to bring the heavy image from the
float up to the open space in front of the house where the rubber
gatherers lived, but this had been done a day or two before the feast, the
statue in the meantime having been covered with white cotton cloth.
Several metres of the same material had also been raised on poles to form
a half enclosure around the main object. The feast had many features in
common with the one we had seen, as, for instance, dancing, and a good
deal of Malay influence was evident in the clothing of the participants,
also in the setting. Nevertheless, the ceremonies, which lasted only about
two hours, were not devoid of interest.
The men, manifesting great spontaneity and enthusiasm, gathered quickly
about and on the badak, and one of them took the rubber man by the hand.
This was followed by pantomimic killing of the badak with a ceremonial
spear as well as with parangs, which were struck against its neck. The man
who was deputed to kill the pig with the spear missed the artery several
times, and as blood was his first objective, he took no care to finish the
unfortunate animal, which was still gasping fifteen minutes later.
An old woman then appeared on the scene who waved a bunch of five hens, to
be sacrificed, whirling them over and among the performers who were then
sitting or standing. The hens were killed in the usual way by cutting the
artery of the neck, holding them until blood had been collected, and then
leaving them to flap about on the ground until dead. Blood was now smeared
on the foreheads of the principal participants, and a young woman danced a
graceful solo.
Having ascertained, by sending to the kampong below, that I could obtain
twenty men with prahus whenever I intended to move, I discharged with
cheerful willingness most of the Puruk Tjahu Malays. Their departure was a
relief also to the Murungs, who feared to be exploited by the Malays. As
soon as the latter had departed in the morning, many Dayaks whom I had not
seen before ventured to come up to the kitchen and my tent to ask for
empty tin cans. The Malays had slept in the Dayak houses, and the last
night one of them carried off the mat which had been hospitably offered
him.
One day there were two weddings here, one in the morning and the other in
the evening. A cloth was spread over two big gongs, which were standing
close together on the floor and formed seats for the bride and bridegroom.
She seemed to be about sixteen years old, and laughed heartily and
frequently during the ceremony, which occupied but a few minutes. A man
waved a young live hen over and around them, then went away and killed it
in the usual manner, returning with the blood, which, with the help of a
stick, he smeared on the forehead, chest, neck, hands, and feet of the
bridal pair, following which the two mutually daubed each other's
foreheads. The principal business connected with marriage had previously
been arranged--that of settling how much the prospective bridegroom was to
pay to the bride's parents. With most tribes visited I found the
adjustment of the financial matter conclusive in itself without further
ceremonies.
The officiating blian took hold of a hand of each, pulled them from their
seats, and whisked them off as if to say: "Now you can go--you are
married!" Outside the full moon bathed the country in the effulgence of
its light, but being quite in zenith it looked rather small as it hung in
the tropical sky.
The moist heat in the latter part of September and first half of October
was more oppressive here than I experienced anywhere else in Borneo. When
for a few days there was no rain the temperature was uncomfortable, though
hardly rising above 90° F. As there was no wind Rajimin's skins would not
dry and many spoiled. Flies, gnats, and other pests were troublesome and
made it difficult even to take a bath. Itching was produced on the lower
part of the legs, which if scratched would become sores that usually took
weeks to heal, and though the application of iodine was of some avail, the
wounds would often suppurate, and I have myself at times had fever as a
result. The best remedy for these and like injuries on the legs is a
compress, or wet bandage, covered with oiled silk, which is a real
blessing in the tropics and the material for which any traveller is well
advised in adding to his outfit.
Rain with the resultant cooling of the atmosphere seldom waited long,
however, and when the river rose to within a metre of my tent, which I had
pitched on the edge of the river bank, I had to abandon it temporarily for
the house in which Mr. Demmini and Mr. Loing resided, a little back of the
rest of the houses. Besides a kitchen, it contained a large room and a
small one, which I appropriated. This house, which was five generations
old and belonged to the brother of the kapala, had in its centre an
upright pillar carved at the top which passed through the floor without
reaching the roof. The house, as is the universal custom in Borneo, stands
on piles, and in erecting it a slave who, according to ancient custom, was
sacrificed, in that way to insure good luck, had been buried alive
underneath the central post, which was more substantial than the others.
During rain it is conducive to a sense of comfort and security to be
safely roofed and sheltered in a house, but usually I preferred my tent,
and occupied it unless the river was too threatening. From the trees in
its close proximity a species of small frog gave concerts every evening,
and also occasionally favoured me with a visit. One morning they had left
in my quarters a cluster of eggs as large as a fist, of a grey frothy
matter, which the ants soon attacked and which later was eaten by the
hens.
The fowls, coarse, powerful specimens of the poultry tribe, were a source
of great annoyance on account of their number and audacity. As usual among
the Malays, from whom the Dayaks originally acquired these domestic birds,
interest centres in the males on account of the prevalent cock-fights, and
the hens are in a very decided minority. For the night the feathered tribe
settles on top of the houses or in the surrounding trees. Hens with small
chickens are gathered together in the evening by the clever hands of the
Dayak women, hen and brood being put into an incredibly small wicker bag,
which is hung up on the gallery for the night. Otherwise carnivorous
animals, prowling about, would make short work of them.
At dawn, having duly saluted the coming day, the numerous cocks descend
from their high roosts and immediately begin their favourite sport of
chasing the few females about. The crowing of these poorly bred but very
powerful males creates pandemonium for a couple of hours, and it is like
living in a poultry yard with nearly fifty brutal cocks crowing around
one. During the remainder of the day sudden raids upon kitchen or tent by
one or more of these cocks are of frequent occurrence, usually overturning
or otherwise damaging something. Although repeatedly and easily frightened
away, they return as soon as they see that the coast is clear again. This
is the one nuisance to be encountered in all the kampongs, though rarely
to the same extent as here.