BORNEO--_Concluded_.
RELIGION--OMENS--FUNERALS.
THE STATE OF RELIGION AMONG THE DYAKS -- THEIR BELIEF IN A SUPREME
BEING -- THE VARIOUS SUBORDINATE GODS -- THE ANTUS, AND THEIR FORMS
-- CATCHING A RUNAWAY SOUL -- THE BUAU AND HIS NATURE -- ORIGIN OF
LAND LEECHES -- CHARMS, AND THEIR VALUE -- OMENS -- THE GOOD AND
EVIL BIRDS -- A SIMPLE CAUSE OF DIVORCE -- THE ENCHANTED LEAF -- THE
ORDEALS OF DIVING, BOILING WATER, SALT, AND SNAILS -- THE ENCHANTED
WATER -- A CURIOUS CEREMONY -- DYAK FUNERALS -- THE OFFICE OF SEXTON.
The religion of the Dyaks is a very difficult subject, as the people
themselves seem to have an exceedingly vague idea of it, and to be
rather unwilling to impart the little knowledge which they have. It is
tolerably clear that they have an idea of a Supreme Being, whom they
call by different names, according to their tribes; the Sea Dyaks,
for example, calling him Batara, and the land Dyaks Tapa. Next to the
Supreme, by whom mankind was created, were some very powerful though
inferior deities, such as Tenabi, who made the earth and the lower
animals; Iang, who taught religion to the Dyaks, and still inspires
them with holiness; and Jirong, the lord of life and death.
Besides those chief deities there are innumerable Antus or minor
gods, which correspond in some degree to the fauns and satyrs of
the ancients. They are called by many names, and as, according to
Dyak ideas, there is scarcely a square rod of forest that does not
contain its Antu, the people live as it were in a world peopled with
supernatural beings. Some of them even declare that they have seen the
Antus, the chief distinction of whom seems to be that they have no
heads, the neck being terminated in a sharp point. They are capable of
assuming the form of a human being or of any animal at will, but always
without heads, so that they can be at once recognized.
The story of one of these Antu-seers is a very strange one. He declared
that he saw a squirrel in a tree, threw a spear at it, and brought it
to the ground. When he went to pick it up, it suddenly rose, faced him,
and changed itself into a dog. The dog walked a few paces, changed
again into a human being, and sat slowly down on the trunk of a fallen
tree. The body of the spectre was parti-colored, and instead of a head
it had a pointed neck.
The Dyak ran off in terror, and was immediately smitten with a violent
fever, his soul having been drawn from the body by the Antu, and about
to journey toward the spirit world. The doctor, however, went off to
the spot where the Antu appeared, captured the fugitive soul, brought
it back, and restored it to the body by means of the invisible hole in
the head through which the Antu had summoned it. Next morning the fever
was gone, and the man was quite well.
They tell another story of one of these inimical beings, who are
supposed to be ghosts of persons killed in battle, and called Buaus. A
Buau pounced upon a woman named Temunyan during her husband’s absence,
carried her off, and by his magic arts fixed her against a rock from
which she could not move. When the husband returned, he went in search
of his wife, and, having found her, concocted a scheme by which the
Buau was induced to release her. By stratagem the husband contrived to
destroy the Buau, and took his wife home.
She had, however, scarcely reached her home when she gave birth to a
horrible being, of which the Buau was the father. Her husband instantly
chopped it into a thousand pieces with his parang, and flung it into
the jungle, when each fragment took life, and assumed the blood-sucking
character of the demon parent. And thus the Buau was the original
parent of land-leeches.
In order to propitiate these beings, the Dyaks are in the habit of
making offerings of food, drink, and flowers to them before they
undertake any great task, mostly putting the food into dishes or
baskets, and laying it in the jungle for the use of the Antus.
Satisfied apparently with the multitude of their deities, the Dyaks
possess no idols, a fact which is really remarkable, as showing the
character of their minds. Charms, however, they have in plenty, and
place the greatest reliance on them. Some charms are credited as
rendering the wearer invulnerable, and it is likely that those attached
to the parang described on page 1125 are of that character.
Mr. St. John mentions an amusing example of the value set upon
these charms. There was a chief of very high rank, who possessed
some exceedingly potent charms, which had been in his family for
many generations, and had been handed down from father to son. They
consisted of two round pebbles, one flat pebble, a little stone which
had been found in a banana, and some sand. All these valuables were
sewed up together and fastened to a string, by which they could be
attached to the waist in times of peril.
Unfortunately, the chief lent these charms to a man who lost them, and
was sued by the aggrieved owner before the English court. He gained his
case, but was nearly as much dissatisfied with the court as with the
defendant, inasmuch as he estimated the value of the charms at a Rusa
jar, _i. e._ about thirty dollars, or seven pounds, whereas the value
set on them by the court, and paid by the defendant, was fivepence.
Allusion has been already made to the birds on which the Dyaks so much
rely as omens. These are three in number, the Kushah, the Kariak, and
the Katupung. When a Dyak is about to start on an expedition, he goes
to the place near the village where the feasting sheds are built, and
there waits until he hears the cry of one of these birds. Should either
the kushah or the katupung cry in the front, or on either side, and not
be answered, the omen is bad, and the man gives up his expedition. It
is a good sign, however, if the bird should first cry on one side and
then be answered on the other. The most important bird is the kariak.
If the cry of the kariak be heard on the right, the omen is good; if on
the left, it is doubtful. But if the cry be heard behind the diviner,
the omen is as bad as it can be, and portends at least sickness, if not
death.
The Dyaks scarcely engage in any undertaking without consulting the
birds, whom they believe to be half Dyaks, all birds having proceeded
from the union of an Antu with a Dyak woman.
Mr. Brooke, in treating of this subject, has the following forcible
remarks:--“Some of our party of Dyaks had proceeded, but most were yet
behind, and will be sweeping down for the next week or more. Many go
through the forms of their forefathers in listening to the sounds of
omens; but the ceremony is now very curtailed, compared with what it
was a few years ago, when I have known a chief live in a hut for six
weeks, partly waiting for the twittering of birds to be in a proper
direction, and partly detained by his followers. Besides, the whole way
in advancing, their dreams are religiously interpreted and adhered to;
but, as in all such matters, interpretations are liable to a double
construction. The finale is, that inclination, or often fear, is most
powerful. A fearful heart produces a disagreeable dream, or a bad omen
in imagined sounds from birds or deer, and this always makes a force
return. But they often loiter about so long, that the enemy gains
intelligence of their intended attack, and is on the alert.
“However absurdly these omens lead the human race, they steadily
continue to follow and believe in such practices. Faith predominates,
and hugs huge wonders, and tenaciously lives in the minds of the
ignorant. Some of the Dyaks are somewhat shaken in the belief in
hereditary omens, and a few follow the Malay custom of using a
particular day, which has a strange effect on European imaginations.
The white man who commands the force is supposed to have an express
bird and lucky charm to guide him onward; and to these the Dyaks trust
considerably. ‘You are our bird, we follow you.’ I well know the names,
and can distinguish the sounds of their birds, and the different hands
on which the good and bad omens are interpreted.
“The effect of these signs on myself was often very marked, and no Dyak
could feel an adverse omen more than myself when away in the jungle,
surrounded by these superstitious people. Still, I could sympathize
with the multitude, and the difficulty lay in the question, whether any
influence would be sufficient to counteract such phantoms. It must not
be thought I ever attempted to lead the Dyaks to believe that I was the
owner of charms and such absurdities, which could not have lasted above
a season, and could never be successful for a length of time. A maias’
(orang-outan’s) head was hanging in my room, and this they thought to
be my director to successful expeditions.”
The cries of various animals are all interpreted by the Dyaks, those
which have evil significations far outnumbering the good-omened cries.
The worst of all omens is the cry of a deer, which will make a Dyak
abandon any project on which he is engaged, no matter how deeply his
heart may be set on it.
On one occasion, a Dyak had married a young girl for whom he had a
very strong attachment, which was returned. On the third day after
the marriage, the English missionary entered the head house and was
surprised to see the young husband sitting in it hard at work on some
brass wire. This was a very strong circumstance, as the head house is
tenanted only by the bachelors. The missionary naturally asked him
what he was doing there, and what had become of his wife, to which he
answered sorrowfully that he had no wife, a deer having cried on the
preceding night, so that they were obliged to dissolve the marriage at
once.
“But,” said his interrogator, “are you not sorry for this?”
“Very sorry!”
“What are you doing with the wire?”
“Making ornaments for the girl whom I want for my new wife.”
It seems that the belief in the Antus is so ingrained in the minds of
the Dyaks, that whenever any one meets with an accident, some Antu or
other is presumed to have been the author of the injury, and to require
appeasal. Mr. Brooke mentions that he once found the leaf of a palm
tree folded in a peculiar manner, lying near his house. This was an
offering to the Antu, because a man had fallen down there and injured
himself.
The leaf was supposed to be possessed by the Antu, who would avenge
himself if his leaf were disturbed by causing the arm of the offender
to swell. However, Mr. Brooke picked up the leaf and threw it away, and
within two days his arm became swollen and inflamed, and remained in
that state for nearly a fortnight afterward.
In connection with this subject must be mentioned the ordeals by
which disputes are often settled. These are of various kinds, but the
favorite plan is the ordeal of diving. The two disputants are taken to
the river and wade into the water up to the chin. At a given signal
they plunge beneath the surface, and the one who can remain longest
under water wins the case. There was a very curious instance of such
an ordeal where the honor of a family was involved. The daughter of a
chief was found to have disgraced herself, and laid the blame upon a
young man of rank. He, however, utterly contradicted her story, and at
last the dispute was brought to an end by the ordeal of diving. The
young chief won his cause, and the result was that the offending girl
had to leave the village, and her father was deserted by his followers,
so that he was also obliged to seek another home.
Then there is the salt ordeal. Each litigant is provided with a lump
of salt of precisely the same weight, and he whose salt retains its
shape longest in water is held to be the winner. There is also the
boiling-water test, which is exactly the same as that which was
practised in England in former days, the hand being dipped into the hot
liquid, and coming out uninjured if the appellant be innocent. Lastly,
there is the snail ordeal. Each party takes a snail and puts it on a
plate, and lime juice is poured over them, when the snail that first
moves is considered to have indicated that its owner is in the wrong.
The reader may remember that the Dyaks are in the habit of purchasing
water that has been poured into the sacred jars, and sprinkling it over
their fields by way of ensuring fertility. They believe that water
which has touched the person of a white man will have the same effect,
especially if he be a man of some rank. So as soon as English officers
arrive at a Dyak village, the natives have a custom of seizing them,
pulling off their shoes and stockings, and washing their feet, the
water being preserved as an infallible charm for promoting the growth
of their crops.
They carry this principle to an extent which to us seems exceedingly
disgusting. Long bamboos filled with dressed rice are brought to the
visitors, who are requested to spit in them. The rice thus medicated is
distributed among the assembled crowd, who press eagerly round, each
attempting to secure a portion of the health-giving food. Some of the
more cunning among the people try to secure a second and some a third
supply, and Mr. St. John mentions an instance when one horrid old woman
managed to be helped six times.
The same traveller mentions that the blood of fowls is thought to
be a very powerful charm, and the Dyaks have a ceremony connected
with the shedding of blood which is almost identical with the Jewish
Passover. (See Exod. xii. 22.) A festival had been given in honor of
the visitors. Their feet had been washed, and the water put aside.
Their rice had been duly medicated, and the Orang-kaya began some
curious ceremonies, flinging rice out of the windows, and accompanying
the act with a prayer for fertility to the fields and prosperity to
the village. He was evidently repeating a well-learned lesson, and
it was ascertained that the words which he used were not understood
by himself, so that we find among the Dyaks the relics of an expired
language, the few remnants of which are preserved by religion, just as
is the case with the inhabitants of New Zealand and other islands.
This portion of the ceremony being ended a sort of sacred dance was
performed, the Orang-kaya and the elders going successively to the
white visitors, passing their hands over their arms, and going off in a
slow, measured tread, “moving their arms and hands in unison with their
feet until they reached the end of the house, and came back to where
we sat. Then came another pressure of the palm, a few more passes to
draw virtue out of us, another yell, and off they went again--at one
time there were at least a hundred dancing.
“For three nights we had had little sleep, on account of these
ceremonies, but at length, notwithstanding clash of gong and beat of
drum, we sank back in our beds, and were soon fast asleep. In perhaps a
couple of hours I awoke, my companion was still sleeping uneasily, the
din was deafening, and I sat up to look around.
“Unfortunate moment! I was instantly seized by the hands of two
priests, and led up to the Orang-kaya, who was himself cutting a fowl’s
throat. He wanted Captain Brooke to perform the following ceremony, but
I objected to his being awakened, and offered to do it for him. I was
taken to the very end of the house, and the bleeding fowl put in my
hands. Holding him by his legs I had to strike the lintel of the doors,
sprinkling a little blood over each. When this was over, I had to wave
the fowl over the heads of the women and wish them fertility; over the
children, and wish them health; over all the people, and wish them
prosperity; out of the window, and invoke good crops for them.”
* * * * *
Funerals among the Dyaks differ slightly in the various tribes. The
common people are buried or even burned with scarcely any ceremony,
but the bodies of chiefs and their relatives are treated with a whole
series of rites.
As soon as a chief dies, the corpse is dressed in his finest clothes,
every ornament that he possessed is hung upon him, and his favorite
swords and other weapons are laid by his side. The body is then placed
on an elevated platform, and is watched and tended as if the dead man
were still alive, food, drink, tobacco, and sirih being continually
offered him, and the air kept cool by constant fanning. The men
assemble on one side of the corpse, and the women on the other, and
romp with each other as if the occasion were of a joyful rather than a
sorrowful character. These games are continued until the corpse is far
gone in decomposition, when it is placed in a coffin made of a hollowed
tree trunk, and buried in a grave which must not be more than five feet
deep.
Knowing the customs of the people, the Malays are apt to rifle the
graves of dead chiefs, for the sake of obtaining the swords and other
valuables that are buried with them. Formerly, after the body was laid
in the grave, the sword, a jar or two, clothes, ornaments, and a female
slave were placed in a canoe, the woman being firmly chained to it.
When the tide was ebbing the boat was sent adrift, and was supposed
to supply the spirit of the departed with all the goods that were on
board. This custom, however, has been long discontinued, as the Dyaks
found that the canoe and its contents almost invariably fell into the
hands of the Malays, who thus procured slaves without paying for them,
and enriched themselves besides with the swords, gold, and clothing.
The sexton’s office is hereditary, and whenever the line fails the
Dyaks have great difficulty in finding some one who will not only take
the office upon himself, but must also entail it upon his descendants.
The office, however, is a very lucrative one, varying from a rupee
to two dollars, a sum of money which can procure for a Dyak all the
necessaries and most of the luxuries of life for several weeks.
The Kayan Dyaks do not bury their dead, but place the body in a very
stout coffin made of a hollowed tree, and elevate it on two stout
carved posts, with woodwork projecting from each corner, like the roofs
of Siamese houses.