FIJI--_Continued_.
RELIGION AND FUNERAL RITES.
THE GODS AND THEIR ABODES -- VISIT OF THE LAND CRAB -- FIJIAN
PRIESTS AND THEIR INSIGNIA -- CONSULTING THE DEITY -- VARIOUS MODES
OF DIVINATION -- THE DIFFICULT PASSAGE TO HEAVEN -- NATIVE TEMPLES,
THEIR STRUCTURE AND USES -- FEASTS GIVEN TO THE GODS -- SACRED
STONES -- MURDER OF THE AGED AND SICK -- A STRANGE MARK OF AFFECTION
-- PROVIDING THE DEAD WITH ATTENDANTS -- BURIAL OF A LIVING KING
-- A TERRIBLE SCENE -- VOYAGE TO THE CEMETERY, AND THE FUNERAL --
SIMILARITY BETWEEN THE CUSTOMS OF FIJI AND INDIA -- MODE OF MOURNING
-- THE SUCCESSIVE RITES AFTER A FUNERAL -- THE CUSTOM OF LOLOKU --
TOMB OF A CHIEF’S WIFE.
The religion, or rather the superstition, of the Fijians is much like
that of other polytheists. The people acknowledge vast numbers of gods
of greater or lesser power; most, if not all, of which are symbolized
under some natural form, such as a hawk, a tree, or the like. Every
Fijian considers himself under the protection of some especial god,
and, as has been stated, will not eat the animal which is his symbol.
An amusing instance of the reverence paid to the symbols of the gods
occurred at Tilioa. A very powerful god, who is worshipped at that
place, resides in a land crab, but, as that crustacean is scarcely ever
seen in the locality, there are but few opportunities of paying the
proper worship. Whenever any one saw a land crab, he immediately ran
to the priest, and forthwith the whole place was in a commotion. The
people assembled to pay their respects to their deity, and a number of
cocoa-nuts were gathered, strung together, and humbly presented to the
crab deity in order to propitiate him, and to induce him to give them
fair weather and a healthy season.
As to the particular doctrines of the Fijian religion, it is scarcely
possible to learn much about them. In the first place, the people know
nothing, and the priests, who know but little, dislike communicating
their knowledge. Even the Christian converts can seldom be induced to
speak on the subject with any degree of truth.
The priests are known by their official insignia, which consists of
an oval frontlet of scarlet feathers, and a long-toothed comb made of
separate pieces of wood ingeniously fastened together. Several of these
combs are in my collection, and are excellent examples of the artistic
capabilities of the makers. No two of them are alike, the delicate
thread which fastens them together being woven in a singular variety of
patterns. The threads are nearly as fine as hairs, and an additional
beauty is given to the pattern by using alternately a deep black and a
glittering yellow thread.
The priests communicate with their deities by throwing themselves into
a sort of ecstatic state, technically called “shaking,” in which the
whole body is convulsed, and the utterances which come from the foaming
lips are held to be the responses of the god. A vivid idea of this mode
of consulting a deity is given by Mr. Williams in the valuable work to
which reference has often been made.
“Nothing like regular worship or habitual reverence is found, and a
principle of fear seems the only motive for religious observances;
and this is fully practised on by the priests, through whom alone the
people have access to the gods, when they wish to present petitions
affecting their social or individual interest. When matters of
importance are involved, the _soro_ or offering consists of large
quantities of food, together with whales’ teeth. In smaller affairs a
tooth, club, mat, or spear, is enough. Young nuts covered with turmeric
powder formed the meanest offering I have known. On one occasion, when
Tuikilakila asked the help of the Somo-somo gods in war, he built the
war god a large new temple, and presented a quantity of cooked food,
with sixty turtles, beside whales’ teeth.
“Part of the offering--the _sigana_--is set apart for the deity, the
rest forming a feast of which all may partake. The portion devoted to
the god is eaten by his priest and by old men, but to youths and women
it is tapu.
“Strangers wishing to consult a god cut a quantity of fire wood for the
temple. Sometimes only a dish of yams or a whale’s tooth is presented.
It is not absolutely necessary for the transaction to take place at a
temple. I have known priests to become inspired in a private house or
in the open air; indeed, in some parts of Fiji, the latter is usually
the case.
“One who intends to consult the oracle dresses and oils himself, and,
accompanied by a few others, goes to the priest, who, we will suppose,
has been previously informed of the intended visit, and is lying near
the sacred corner getting ready his response. When the party arrives,
he rises and sits so that his back is near to the white cloth by which
the god visits him, while the others occupy the opposite side of
the Buré. The principal person presents a whale’s tooth, states the
purpose of his visit, and expresses a hope that the god will regard
him with favor. Sometimes there is placed before the priest a dish of
scented oil with which he anoints himself, and then receives the tooth,
regarding it with deep and serious attention.
“Unbroken silence follows. The priest becomes absorbed in thought,
and all eyes watch him with unblinking steadiness. In a few minutes
he trembles; slight distortions are seen in his face, and twitching
movements in his limbs. These increase to a violent muscular action,
which spreads until the whole frame is strongly convulsed, and the man
shivers as with a strong ague fit. In some islands this is accompanied
with murmurs and sobs, the veins are greatly enlarged, and the
circulation of the blood quickened.
“The priest is now possessed by his god, and all his words and actions
are considered as no longer his own, but those of the deity who has
entered into him. Shrill cries of ‘Koi au! Koi au!’ (‘It is I! It is
I!’) fill the air, and the god is supposed thus to notify his approach.
While giving the answer, the priest’s eyes stand out and roll as if
in a frenzy; his voice is unnatural, his face pale, his lips livid,
his breathing depressed, and his entire appearance like that of a
furious madman. The sweat runs from every pore, and tears start from
his strained eyes; after which the symptoms gradually disappear. The
priest looks round with a vacant stare, and as the god says ‘I depart,’
announces his actual departure by violently flinging himself down on
the mat, or by suddenly striking the ground with a club, when those
at a distance are informed by blasts on the conch, or the firing of a
musket, that the deity has returned into the world of spirits.”
In many cases it is evident that the priests enact deliberate
impositions, but it is also certain that in many others they are
completely under the dominion of frenzy, and that they do not recollect
afterward the words which they uttered while in their delirious state.
“My own mind,” said one of them, “departs from me, and then, when it is
truly gone, my god speaks by me.”
Various modes of divination are employed by the Fijian priests. They
have, for example, divination by the leaf, by the reed, by the nut,
and by water. The leaf is tested by taking it between the front teeth
and biting it. If it be completely severed, the omen is good; if it
hang together, even by a single fibre, the omen is unfavorable. One
priest had a very strange mode of divination by the leaf. He had two
magic leaves, which he placed on the sides of the applicant, and then
left them. If the leaf on the right side stung the skin, the omen was
good; but if any plots or treacheries were hatched, the leaf stung the
man on the left side, and so warned him of the danger. Another mode of
divination by the leaf is to bite it, and judge by the flavor whether
the omen be adverse or the contrary.
The reed test is managed as follows. A number of short reeds are cut,
and laid in a row on the ground, a name being given to each. The priest
then holds his right foot over each, and the response is given by the
trembling of the foot.
The water test is performed by holding the straightened arm slightly
upward, and pouring a few drops of water on the wrist. If the water
should run to the shoulder, the response is favorable; should it fall
off at the elbow, the answer is adverse.
The next test is performed by laying a cocoa-nut on a small surface and
spinning it. When it stops, the response is given by the direction in
which the eye points.
According to Fijian notions, the passage to Buruto or heaven is a very
difficult one, except for great chiefs, and the only plan by which
a man of inferior rank can hope to obtain admission is by telling
the god a lie, and proclaiming himself a chief with so much apparent
truthfulness that he is believed, and allowed to pass. Taking on his
shoulder his war club and a whale’s tooth, the Fijian spirit goes to
the end of the world, where grows a sacred pine, and throws the tooth
at it. Should he miss it, he can go no further; but if he hit it, he
travels on to a spot where he awaits the arrival of the women who were
murdered at his death.
Escorted by them, he proceeds until he is met and opposed by a god
called Ravuyalo, whom he fights with his club. Should he fail, he is
killed and eaten by the god, and there is an end of him. Should he
conquer, he proceeds until he finds a canoe, into which he gets, and is
conveyed to the lofty spot where the chief god, Ndengei, lives. Over
the precipice extends the long steering oar of the god’s canoe. He is
then asked his name and rank, when he replies with a circumstantial
account of his grandeur and magnificence, of the countries over which
he has ruled, of the deeds which he did in war, and of the devastation
which he caused. He is then told to take his seat on the blade of the
oar. Should his story have been believed, he is conveyed to Buruto; but
should Ndengei disbelieve his story, the oar is tilted up, and he is
hurled down the precipice into the water below whence he never emerges.
It has been mentioned that the spirit has to wait for the escort of his
wives. This is in order to prove that he is a married man, bachelors
having no hope of admission into Buruto. Should a wifeless man start on
his journey, he is confronted by a goddess, called the Great Woman, who
has a special hatred of bachelors, and, as soon as she sees one, flies
at him and tries to tear him in pieces. Sometimes she misses him in her
eagerness; but, even in such a case, he has to deal with another god,
who hides himself in the spirit path, and, as the soul of the bachelor
passes by, he springs on the wretched being, and dashes him to atoms
against a stone.
The Burés or temples of the gods abound in Fiji, at least one Buré
being found in every village, and some of the villages having many of
these buildings. They are made of the same material as the houses, but
with much more care. Instead of being merely set on the ground, they
are placed on the top of a mound of earth, sometimes only slightly
elevated, and sometimes twenty feet or more in height.
The natives think no labor too great for the decoration of a Buré, and
it is in those buildings that their marvellous skill in plaiting sinnet
is best shown. Every beam, post, and pillar is entirely covered with
sinnet plaited into the most beautiful patterns, black and red being
the favorite colors; and even the reeds which line the window frames,
and fill up the interstices between the pillars, are hidden in the
plaited sinnet with which they are covered. So lavish are the natives
of their work, that they are not content with covering the pillars and
reeds with sinnet work, but they make large plaited cords of the same
material, and hang them in festoons from the eaves.
It has already been mentioned that the best houses have the ends of the
ridge-poles decorated with cowries, but those of the Buré are adorned
with long strings of cowries that sometimes reach the ground. Ordinary
laths are thought too common to be used in thatching temples, and the
beautifully carved spears of warriors are employed instead of simple
wood. When the Buré is erected on a high mound, entrance is gained to
it by means of a very thick plank cut into notched steps.
Although the Burés are considered as temples, and dedicated to the god,
they are mostly used for secular purposes. Visitors from a distance are
generally quartered in them, and in many instances the principal men of
the village make the Buré their sleeping-place. Councils are held in
the Burés, and entertainments are given in them, of which the offerings
to the god form a large part. Sometimes, as has been mentioned, a chief
who wishes to propitiate some deity offers a great quantity of food in
his temple, and this food is consumed in a general feast. A certain
portion is dedicated to the god, and may only be eaten by the priests
and the old men, but the remainder may be eaten by any one.
None of the food is left to perish, the Fijians having a convenient
belief which combines piety with self-indulgence. The god is supposed
to be a great eater, but only to consume the soul of the provisions,
so that when food is cooked and offered, the god eats the soul and the
people the body. The chief god, Ndengei, used to be both greedy and
dainty in his demands for food. He sometimes ate two hundred hogs and
a hundred turtles at a single feast, and was continually insisting on
human sacrifices. In order to procure these, no respect was paid to
persons, and so infatuated were the people that, to keep up Ndengei’s
supplies of human food, chiefs were known to kill their own wives.
No regular worship is ever offered in the Burés, which, indeed, are
often left to fall into decay until some one desires to consult or
propitiate the god, when the building is repaired and cleaned for the
occasion. As may be expected, during the building of the Buré several
human sacrifices are offered.
If the reader will refer to the drawing of the Buré on the following
page, he will see that in front of it are two oddly-shaped objects.
These are examples of the sacred stones, several of which are to
be found in various parts of Fiji. They are considered as the
dwelling-place of certain gods, and are held to be either male or
female, according to the sex of the deity who inhabits them. Should the
god be of the female sex, the fact is known by a woman’s apron or liku
being tied round the stone. One such god is a very useful one, because
he hates mosquitoes, and keeps them away from the spot in which he
dwells. Food is prepared and offered to those sacred stones, the god
as usual, eating the spirit of the food, and the priest and officers
consuming its outward form.
[Illustration: (1.) A BURÉ, OR TEMPLE. (See page 962.)]
[Illustration: (2.) CANOE HOUSE AT MAKIRA BAY. (See page 970.)]
* * * * *
We now come to the funeral ceremonies of Fiji, taking those of the
chiefs as types of the whole.
Among the Fijians a very singular superstition reigns. When men or
women become infirm with age, they are considered to have lived their
full time on earth, and preparations are made for their burial. So
ingrained is this belief, that if a man finds himself becoming feeble
with age or disease, he requests his sons to strangle him, and with
this request they think themselves bound to comply. Indeed, if they
think that he is too slow in making the request, they suggest to him
that he has lived long enough, and ought to rest in the grave. Such
conduct seems to imply that they are destitute of affection, but in
reality it is their way of showing their love for their parent.
They are really a most affectionate race of people. A young chief
has been seen to sob with overpowering emotion at parting from his
father for a short time, and yet, were his parents to become ill or
infirm, he would think it his duty to apply the fatal rope with his
own hands. To be strangled by one’s children, or to be buried alive by
them, is considered the most honorable mode of death. The reason for
this strange custom seems to be that the Fijians believe the condition
of the spirit in the next world to be exactly the same as that of
the individual when in life. Consequently, affectionate children are
unwilling to allow their parents to pass into the next world in an
infirm state of body, and therefore strangle them out of sheer kindness.
From a similar notion of kindness, they also strangle the favorite
wives and attendants of the dead chief, so as to provide him with the
followers to whom he has been accustomed. They also kill a powerful
warrior, in order that he may go before his chief through the passage
into the spirit land, and drive away the evil spirits who oppose the
progress of a new comer. These victims go by the name of “grass,” and
are laid at the bottom of the grave; the warrior painted and dressed
for battle, with his favorite club by his side, the women arranged in
folds of the finest masi, and the servants with their implements in
their hands; so that the inhabitants of the spirit world may see how
great a chief has come among them.
All their preparations are carried on in a quiet and orderly manner,
the victims never attempting to escape from their fate, but vying with
each other for the honor of accompanying their chief. In some cases,
when a chief has died young, his mother has insisted on sharing his
grave. So deeply do the Fijians feel the necessity for this sacrifice
that the custom has been a greater barrier against Christianity even
than cannibalism or polygamy, and even those natives who have been
converted to Christianity are always uneasy on the subject. On one
occasion a Christian chief was shot, and by the same volley a young
man was killed. The Christian natives were delighted with the latter
catastrophe, inasmuch as it provided an attendant for their slain chief.
The scene which takes place when a great chief is expected to die has
been described by Mr. Williams with great power. The King of Somo-somo,
a magnificent specimen of the savage, was becoming infirm through age,
and toward the middle of August 1845 was unable to do more than walk
about a little:--
“I visited him on the 21st, and was surprised to find him much better
than he had been two days before. On being told, therefore, on the
24th that the king was dead, and that preparations were being made for
his interment, I could scarcely credit the report. The ominous word
_preparing_ urged me to hasten without delay to the scene of action,
but my utmost speed failed to bring me to Nasima--the king’s house--in
time. The moment I entered it was evident that, as far as concerned two
of the women, I was too late to save their lives. The effect of that
scene was overwhelming. Scores of deliberate murderers in the very act
surrounded me: yet there was no confusion, and, except a word from him
who presided, no noise, only an unearthly, horrid stillness. Nature
seemed to lend her aid and to deepen the dread effect; there was not a
breath stirring in the air, and the half-subdued light in that hall of
death showed every object with unusual distinctness.
“All was motionless as sculpture, and a strange feeling came upon me,
as though I was myself becoming a statue. To speak was impossible; I
was unconscious that I breathed; and involuntarily, or rather against
my will, I sunk to the floor, assuming the cowering posture of those
who were actually engaged in murder. My arrival was during a hush, just
at the crisis of death, and to that strange silence must be attributed
my emotions; and I was but too familiar with murders of this kind,
neither was there anything novel in the apparatus employed. Occupying
the centre of that large room were two groups, the business of whom
could not be mistaken.
“All sat on the floor; the middle figure of each group being held in
a sitting posture by several females, and hidden by a large veil. On
either side of each veiled figure was a company of eight or ten strong
men, one company hauling against the other on a white cord which was
passed twice round the neck of the doomed one, who thus in a few
minutes ceased to live. As my self-command was returning to me the
group furthest from me began to move; the men slackened their hold, and
the attendant women removed the large covering, making it into a couch
for the victim.
“As that veil was lifted some of the men beheld the distorted
features of a mother whom they had helped to murder, and smiled with
satisfaction as the corpse was laid out for decoration. Convulsion
strongly on the part of the poor creature near me showed that she still
lived. She was a stout woman, and some of the executioners jocosely
invited those who sat near to have pity and help them. At length a
woman said, ‘she is cold.’ The fatal cord fell, and as the covering was
raised I saw dead the oldest wife and unwearied attendant of the old
king.”
Leaving the house of murder, Mr. Williams went to the hut of the
deceased king, determining to see his successor, and beg him to spare
the lives of the intended victims.
To his horror and astonishment, he found that the king was still alive.
He was lying on his couch, very feeble, but perfectly conscious, every
now and then placing his hand to his side as he was racked by cough.
The young king was full of grief. He embraced his visitor with much
emotion, saying, “See, the father of us two is dead.” It was useless
to dispute the point. The poor old king certainly did move and speak
and eat; but, according to the son’s ideas, the movements were only
mechanical, the spirit having left the body.
So the preparations for his funeral went on. His chief wife and an
assistant employed themselves in covering his body with black powder,
as if dressing him for the war dance, and fastening upon his arms and
legs a number of long strips of white masi, tied in rosettes, with the
ends streaming on the ground. They had already clad him in a new masi
of immense size, the white folds of which were wrapped round his feet.
In place of the usual masi turban, a scarlet handkerchief was bound on
his hair with a circlet of white cowrie-shells, and strings of the same
shells decorated his arms, while round his neck was an ivory necklace,
made of long curved claw-like pieces of whale’s teeth.
The reader may perhaps wonder that the chief wife of the king was
suffered to live. The fact was that the young king would not allow her
to be killed, because no executioner of sufficient rank could be found.
She lamented her hard lot in being forbidden to accompany her husband
to the spirit land, and begged to be strangled, but without success.
Presently the sound of two conch-shell trumpets was heard outside the
house, this being the official intimation that the old king was dead,
and the new king was then formally acknowledged by the chiefs who
were present. He seemed overcome with grief, and, gazing on the body
of his father’s attendant, he exclaimed, “Alas, Moalevu! There lies
a woman truly wearied, not only in the day but in the night also;
the fire consumed the fuel gathered by her hands. If we awoke in the
still night, the sound of our feet reached her ears, and, if spoken to
harshly, she continued to labor only. Moalevu! Alas, Moalevu!”
The bodies of the murdered women were then rolled up in mats, placed on
a bier, and carried out of the door, but the old king was taken through
a breach made in the wall of the house. The bodies were carried down to
the seaside and placed in a canoe, the king being on the deck, attended
by his wife and the Mata, who fanned him and kept off the insects.
When they arrived at Weilangi, the place of sepulture, they found the
grave already dug, and lined with mats. The bodies of the women were
laid side by side in the grave, and on them the dying king. The shell
ornaments were then taken from him, and he was entirely enveloped in
mats, after which the earth was filled in, and thus he was buried
alive. The poor old man was even heard to cough after a quantity of
earth had been heaped on him.
This final scene is represented in an illustration on the 980th
page. In the foreground is seen the open grave, with the bodies of
the murdered women lying in it as “grass.” The still living king is
being borne to the grave by the attendants, while his successor sits
mournfully surveying a scene which he knows will be re-enacted in his
own case, should he live to be old and infirm. Just above the grave are
the rolls of fine mats with which the body of the king is to be covered
before the earth is filled in; and in the background appears the mast
of the canoe which brought the party to the burial-ground.
The reader cannot but notice the resemblance between this Fijian custom
of strangling the wives and the well-known suttee of India. In both
cases the women are the foremost to demand death, and for the same
reason. Just as the Hindoo women arrange their own funeral pile, and
light it with their own hands, the Fijian woman helps to dig her own
grave, lines it with mats and then seats herself in it.
The fact is, that the woman has positively no choice in the matter;
a wife who survives her husband is condemned to a life of neglect,
suffering, and insult, so that the short agony of immediate death is
preferable to such a fate, especially as by yielding to the national
custom she believes that she shall secure a happy and honored life in
the spirit land. Moreover, her relatives are bound by custom to insist
upon her death, as, if they did not follow this custom, they would be
accused of disrespect toward her husband and his family, and would run
the risk of being clubbed in revenge.
In consequence of this horrid custom, the population of Fiji has been
greatly checked, for not only is there the direct sacrifice of life,
but much indirect loss is occasioned. Many of the murdered women
are mothers, whose children die for want of maternal care, so that,
what with the perpetual feuds and continual murders, the custom of
cannibalism, the sacrifice of wives with their husbands, the strangling
of the old or sick, and the death of children by neglect, very few
Fijians die from natural causes. Mr. Williams mentions that in a class
of nine children under his charge, the parents had all been murdered
with the exception of two, and these had been condemned to death, and
only saved through the exertions of the missionaries.
After a king is buried, sundry ceremonies are observed. For twenty days
or so, no one eats until the evening, the people shave their heads
either partially or entirely, and the women cut off their fingers,
which are inserted in split reeds, and stuck along the eaves of the
royal house. Those who are nearly related to the dead king show their
grief by refusing to wear their usual dress, and substituting rude
garments of leaves. They often deny themselves the luxury of a mat to
lie upon, and pass their nights on the grave of their friend. The coast
is rendered tapu for a certain distance, no one being allowed to fish
until the proper time has elapsed, and the cocoa-nut trees are placed
under a similar restriction.
Various strange rites take place on certain days after the funeral.
On the fourth day the friends assemble, and celebrate the melancholy
ceremony called the “jumping of maggots,” in which they symbolize the
progress of corruption. Next evening is one of a directly opposite
character, called the “causing to laugh,” in which the immediate
friends and relatives of the dead are entertained with comic games. On
the tenth day the women have an amusing ceremony of their own. Arming
themselves with whips, switches, or cords, they fall upon every man
whom they meet, without respect to age or rank, the greatest chiefs
only being exempt from this persecution. The men are not allowed to
retaliate, except by flinging mud at their assailants, and those
who have witnessed the scene say that nothing more ludicrous can be
imagined than to see grave, elderly men running in all directions,
pursued by the women with their whips and switches.
The last ceremony is the completion of some special work begun in honor
of the dead. It may be the erection of a house, the making of a huge
ball of sinnet, a great bale of cloth, and, in any case, it bears the
name of the person in whose honor it was undertaken. Building large
canoes is a favorite form of this custom, and, during the whole time
that the work is in progress, the canoe is put to sleep at night by the
beating of drums, and awakened every morning in a similar manner, when
the carpenters come to their work.
A curious ceremony takes place in Fiji when one of the principal chiefs
has died. It is called the loloku of the sail, and is a sort of a
signal of honor. Whenever a canoe approaches the coast for the first
time since the death of the chief, the vessel is obliged to show the
loloku. This is generally a long strip of masi tied to the head of the
mast, and as soon as the canoe touches the land, both the sail and masi
are thrown into the water. Sometimes, when the owner of the canoe is
tolerably rich, he adds to the simple loloku a whale’s tooth, which
is flung from the mast-head into the water, when the people dive and
scramble for it.
Should the chief perish at sea, or be killed in a warlike expedition,
and be eaten by his enemies, the loloku is shown as carefully as if
he had been buried on shore, and his relatives try to compensate him
for his adverse fate, by killing an unusual number of women as his
attendants. Nearly twenty women have thus been sacrificed on the death
of a young chief who was drowned at sea.
The graves of chiefs and their wives are marked by tombs. These are
sometimes nothing but stones at the head and foot of the grave, or
large cairns of stones piled on the deceased. Sometimes they are roofs
from three to six feet in height, decorated, after Fijian custom, with
patterns worked in sinnet.
One tomb, that of a chief’s wife, was a very remarkable one. Her
husband had a large mound of earth thrown up, and faced with stones.
On the top of the mound was a double canoe, forty feet in length, held
firmly in its place by being imbedded in earth. Fine shingle was strewn
on the deck, and mats were spread on the shingle for the reception of
the body. Sand was then heaped over the canoe, and on the sand was
laid the body of a little child of whom the deceased woman had been
very fond. Over all was then built a large roof, made of mahogany, and
adorned with white cowrie-shells.