DOMESTIC LIFE
The Village—The “Morung”—The Head-Tree—The House—The Contents
—Manufactures—Trade—Loans—Agriculture and the Ceremonies
connected with it—Live-stock—Hunting—Fishing—Food—Drink—
Medicine—Drugs—Games—Music.
[Position and defences.] With the exception of those situated on spurs
running down from the great mass of Wokha Hill, a Lhota village is
invariably built on the very top of a ridge. The two essentials of a
site are that it must be easily defensible from a Naga point of view,
and near a spring. Unlike the Sema, the Lhota rarely calls a village
after its founder. An almost unique example is Mangya, which is said to
have been founded by Mangyasang. More usually some peculiarity of the
site, or incident connected with the village, gives it its name. Seleku
is so called because many flying squirrels (selek) were found when the
site was cleared. Niroyo is the place of a plant with red berries
called niro. Lungsa (olung = stone, osa = platform) is so called from a
flat-topped rock near the eastern entrance of the village. Okotso is
said to mean the place where the pigs of Pangti were eaten by tigers
(woko = pig, tso = eat). Villages captured by the Lhotas from the Aos,
such as Yimbang, Akuk, Mekula, still retain their Ao names only
slightly corrupted. Often a village retains the name of its parent
village, with Yanthamo (“new village”) added, e.g. Are Yanthamo. To
defend his village the Lhota used neither masonry walls like the
Angami, nor hedges of living cane like the Konyak. The outer defence
was a ditch cut across the ridge in a conveniently narrow place. The
bottom and edge of this were studded with “panjis,” and it was crossed
by a rough-hewn plank which was taken up at night, or in case of
attack. The inner defence was a stout fence of sticks and bamboos, also
bristling with “panjis.” This was carried right round the village
except in places where the steepness of the ground gave adequate
protection of itself. The door was of bamboo, studded with “panjis.” A
few sticks are still stuck up along the line of the old fence every
year at the Pikuchak “genna,” and whenever the village performs the
Oyantsoa “genna.” Huge trees stand at the entrance to most Lhota
villages. These were preserved to form a wind-screen for the village
and to provide convenient look-out posts for sentries. War between
Lhota villages was rare, and a powerful village surrounded by friends
would regard defences as unnecessary. Similarly nowadays Tuensang, the
most powerful village of the Changs, has no village fence. It is
situated in the middle of a circle of friendly Chang villages. The
warriors of Tuensang emerge from the circle to smite their foes, and
then retire behind their friends again. Woe betide the friend who is so
remiss as to let a party of avenging enemies into the circle.
A Lhota village is as a rule built along a ridge and has a main
entrance at either end, with smaller paths running down to the fields
from the sides of the village, and may contain anything from a dozen to
350 houses. The entrance to the World of the Dead being on Wokha Hill,
the spirits of the dead must leave the village in that direction. The
path leading towards Wokha Hill is accordingly known as etchhilan
(“dead man’s road”). It is a curious sight, flanked with offerings to
the dead (sochipen) and bamboo erections (nritangpeng) showing the
prowess in war and hunting of those recently deceased.
[Communication.] From village to village there are narrow permanent
paths along which men can only go in single file. As far as possible
they keep along the very top of the ranges, for in the old days to use
a path running under the shoulder of a hill would have been to risk
having a spear thrown at you from above. Where the rock is soft
sandstone, as it is near Tsori, toe-holes are cut in very steep
ascents. Where the rock is hard a notched pole helps the traveller up
the bad places. Small streams and ditches are bridged either by a
single big tree or half a dozen stout poles laid side by side. Across
broader streams, such as the Chebi, cane bridges are constructed. Long
pieces of cane are stretched across from convenient trees on either
bank. Between these a V-shaped cradle of cane is constructed, on which
are laid long bamboos to form a foot-way. Long cane tie-ropes up and
down stream prevent the bridge from swinging. The far-seeing Lhota
often plants young trees of a suitable kind near the bridge-head trees
to provide substitutes in case the old trees are washed away or die.
[The village.] A village usually consists of one long street with a
line of houses on each side facing inwards. In the middle of the street
are the “genna” stones standing opposite the houses of their owners.
The somewhat limited space is further crowded with old fallen “genna”
stones, graves and stacks of firewood. The villages are swarming with
pigs, dogs and cattle, and the state of the street in wet weather can
be better imagined than described, though some attempt is made to keep
the actual doorways of the houses clean by scraping away the filth with
shovels (mirothenga) made of the shoulder-blades of cattle or mithan.
Sanitary arrangements are non-existent. Pigs and dogs do the necessary
scavenging in the jungle surrounding the village. In every village one
piece of jungle is strictly reserved for men and another for women. Not
all villages consist of one long street. At places such as Yekhum,
where the ground slopes awkwardly, the houses are built according to
the lie of the land and are in broken lines. Similarly at Pangti, which
is on a fairly broad, level site, there are several rather badly
defined streets and the houses face in all directions.
Unlike the Angamis, the Lhotas do not keep their rice in their houses
but in little thatched granaries (osung) of bamboo which are raised on
posts above the ground and stand in neat little groups just outside the
village. By this arrangement the food supply is generally saved even if
the village be burnt. It is absolutely forbidden to spread clothes to
dry on the roof of a granary. To do so would cause all the rice to go
bad.
[The “Morung.”] Every village, except the very small ones, is divided
into two or more “khels” (yankho). Sometimes, but by no means always, a
little strip of open ground marks the division between “khel” and
“khel.” In some villages these “khels” mark the divisions of clans. For
instance, at Tsingaki there are two Kikung “khels” and one Nguli
“khel.” But this is not common. Usually a “khel” appears to be nothing
more than a convenient division of a village in which men of various
clans live. Sometimes some feature of the site gives the “khel” its
name, e.g. Hayili (“level”) khel in Akuk. Sometimes, as in the
Wokhayankho (“Wokha men’s khel”) in Pangti, the first inhabitants have
given a name to the “khel.” Usually a man lives and dies in the “khel”
in which his forefathers lived and died before him. But he is perfectly
free to go to another “khel” if he wants to. In every “khel” there is a
common bachelors’ house or “morung” (champo), [68] a building which
plays an important part in Lhota life. In it no woman must set her
foot. At the champo raids were planned and discussed, and to it all
heads taken were first brought. It is the sleeping-place of every Lhota
boy from the time he first puts on his dao-holder till he marries, this
rule being only relaxed in the case of boys who are allowed to remain
at home and nurse an ailing and widowed mother, or when the champo
falls into such a state of disrepair that it is no longer habitable. In
the latter case boys are allowed to sleep in a separate room in their
parents’ house. The champo usually stands at the end of, and facing
down, the village street. Though not to be compared with the huge
“morungs” of the Aos and Konyaks, it is the best architectural effort
of which the Lhota is capable. In length a typical champo extends to
forty feet, with a breadth of fifteen feet at the front and twelve feet
at the back. The roof-tree is low in the middle, and curves up to
gables at the front and back, that at the front being about sixteen
feet high and that at the back a foot or so lower. Two specially fine
bamboos are selected for the roof-tree. Part of the root is left on
them and forms a horn-like projection at each end of the roof-tree. To
each horn is fixed a little cross-piece, from which are hung
tassel-like ornaments of reed-stem. The house is thatched with either
thatching grass or the leaf of a small palm called oko (Levistonia
assamica). The eaves reach almost to the ground and are brought forward
in a half-circle in front to form a sort of verandah roof. In the
middle of the space covered by this verandah roof stands the front post
(humtse), which is elaborately carved with conventional representations
of mithan heads and hornbills, and is carried through the roof up to
the high gable. Behind it is another carved post (humtse tachungo). At
the base of this post are the oha stones on which the good fortune of
the champo depends, and to it used to be fastened a piece of skin from
the first head taken after a new champo was built. This piece of skin
is called humtse lama (“post warmer”). It was believed that it brought
strength to the post and luck to the village. So strong was and is this
belief, that as late as 1913 Tsingaki was punished for buying a piece
of a head to be used as humtse lama from the independent Sema village
of Satami. [69] At the back of the champo is another carved post.
The interior of a champo is not attractive. It is dark, dirty, smoky,
stuffy and full of fleas. Yet a Lhota talks of his happy champo-days
much as an Englishman talks of his schooldays. The floor is sometimes
levelled earth and sometimes a bamboo platform raised about two feet
above the ground on posts. The walls are of bamboo. There is a door at
each end and a passage about two feet wide down the middle, in which
fires are lit on cold nights, the smoke finding its way out as best it
can in the absence of chimneys or windows. Where the floor is of bamboo
four logs are laid down to form a square, the interior of which is
filled in with earth rammed firmly down. On this the fire is made. On
either side of the passage are cubicles with bamboo partitions, along
the sides of which are sleeping benches of rough-hewn planks, or bamboo
“machans.”
The time varies in different villages, but a champo is generally
rebuilt every nine years. Almost invariably it falls in ruins before
the time is up, but on no account must it be rebuilt till the due
period has elapsed. The ceremonies connected with the rebuilding are
interesting. The Puthi having announced that the rebuilding will take
place in so many days, the boys of the champo collect bamboos,
thatching grass, posts, tying-bark and whatever is needed. If a new
carved post is required the best carver in the village gets to work on
it. Every champo has land belonging to it. With the rice from this land
a pig and a big cow are bought. These are killed on the day before the
work of rebuilding is begun, and the carcases kept in a little hut
specially built by the side of the champo. Next day is the first of
five days’ emung, [70] which must be kept by the whole village. During
these days no one may work in the fields, or weave cloth or make pots
or bring into the village meat from a tiger’s kill. If a stranger
enters the village he will probably be ill, and he cannot leave it till
the five days’ emung are over. On this day the ceremonies begin. The
Puthi formally begins the breaking down of the old champo, by pulling a
piece of thatch off the roof and throwing it onto the ground. The
Puthi’s attendant (Yenga) then removes the oha stones from in front of
the humtse tachungo and lays them down a little distance from the
champo. The roof is next carefully cut in two lengthways and laid on
the ground in such a way that the two halves lean up against one
another and form a shelter. Under this the boys of the champo must
sleep that night. The posts are pulled out and laid on the ground, the
whole building is dismantled and the site cleaned and re-levelled. The
work of rebuilding is then begun. This again the Puthi initiates by a
formal act. Beginning with the humtse tachungo he digs a little hole
with the butt of his spear at the places where the three carved posts
are to be set up, and pours or spits a little “rohi madhu” into each
hole. The posts are then put up, new ones being substituted for any
which may have decayed, and the champo is rebuilt as quickly as
possible. Before leaving the work for the night the Puthi places a
little ginger sprinkled with “madhu” on two crossed leaves at the foot
of the humtse tachungo in order to keep away evil spirits, to whom
ginger is particularly obnoxious. Thatching alone is left till next
day, which is a day of less work and more play. Everyone feasts and
puts on his best clothes, the men wearing full dancing dress. The first
bunch of thatch having been put in place by the Puthi, the braves of
the village dance, some on the ground and some on the roof of the
“morung,” all singing the pangashari, a slow chant in which the
war-like deeds of the village in the past are recounted. This song goes
on all the time the thatch is being put on. A similar dance on the roof
is performed by the Konyaks of Namsang and Tamlu when a “morung” is
rebuilt. The thatching being finished the oha stones are replaced by
the Yenga at the foot of the humtse tachungo. All the men, led by the
Puthi, then slowly dance in a rough column of fours formation round the
village, ho-hoing as they go. The chant is called yanungshari. The
carcases of the pig and cow are taken out of the little hut in which
they have been kept and cut up and distributed to all males, the Puthi
receiving as his share half the head of the cow split longitudinally. A
feature of this, the second day of the ceremonies, is the dog-killing
which takes place. Every champo in the village kills a small dog. That
belonging to the champo which is being rebuilt is carefully fattened up
beforehand and tied up in front of the Puthi’s house. When the time
comes to kill this dog an admiring throng gathers round while the
oldest man of the “khel” sits by the dog and gives it a bone to keep it
quiet. He then covers it with his cloth. Opposite to him stands the man
reputed to be the finest warrior in the “khel,” and the following
dialogue takes place. Warrior: “Move away.” Old man: “Will you take
care?” Warrior: “I will take care.” Old man: “Do not hurt the dog.”
Warrior: “I will kill it quickly.” At these words the old man uncovers
the dog and moves aside. The warrior then attempts to split its skull
exactly in two with one blow of his dao. When the dog falls about a
dozen bucks and boys dance round and round it chanting, “He has killed
it, he has killed it.” The head is cut off and brought to the champo,
where it is carefully examined to see if it has been well and truly
split. If the blow is found to have been a crooked one, the man who
killed it is laughed at, told he is no warrior, but a boaster and a
wind-bag. The head is then thrown away by the old man who attended at
the killing. [71] In the evening a mock fight takes place between the
young men and women of the village, both married and unmarried. The
women pretend to try to push their way into the champo, while the young
men keep them out. This mock fight is believed to increase the
fertility of the women who take part in it. On the third day the slow
dance round the village is repeated while the yanungshari is again
sung. Most of the day is spent in feasting and drinking. On the fourth
day the dance and chant are again repeated, but very few men put in an
appearance, presumably because most of them have bad headaches after
two days’ heavy drinking. The chief performers are a few hard-headed
bucks and irrepressible small boys. On the fifth day, the last emung
day, everyone rests.
[The Head-tree.] Perhaps the most conspicuous object in a Lhota village
is the head-tree, mingetung, generally a magnificent specimen of
ningetung (a tree of the Ficus family). It is usually situated on a
mound well in the middle of the village. Against its branches were
leant the long bamboos from which were hung the heads of enemies taken
in war, and at its roots are kept the mysterious oha stones. These are
counted and a fence is put round the tree whenever the oyantsoa “genna”
is performed. The fortune of the village is regarded as in a way
dependent on the mingetung. So sacred is it that in some villages it
cannot be photographed. To break a twig off it would entail the
performance of the oyantsoa “genna” (village renewing “genna”), which
must also be performed if the mingetung dies or a branch falls. The
place of the mingetung can never be changed. That at Lungla has been
blown down. A small tree close by is being used instead till a new
mingetung can be induced to grow on the old site, a vain hope, as the
old site is a mound of shale without so much as a blade of grass on it.
When a new village is founded a site is always selected on which there
is a tree suitable for use as a mingetung. Under the new tree must be
put a twig stolen from the mingetung of the parent village, though the
parent village makes every effort to prevent this theft, as it entails
the performance of the oyantsoa “genna” and is very likely to bring bad
luck to the parent village. A curious belief is prevalent in Phiro.
Skulls which had fallen from their strings were often picked up and
jammed into interstices in the bole of the head-tree. At Phiro the
mingetung is growing round and gradually covering these old skulls.
This is regarded as a sign that the days of head-hunting are gone,
never to return. [72]
[Water supply.] Springs issuing from the side of the hill below the
village supply Lhotas with their water. Sometimes it is drawn from a
muddy pool of unappetizing greenish water, but often there is a good
flow into a basin dammed up with rough masonry. Small fish have been
put into the Niroyo basin, and are carefully preserved in order that
they may keep the water clear of scum. At almost all springs there is a
small dam, and over it a low fence so that women who draw water stand
below and not in the supply from which they draw. Unlike the Ao, the
Lhota does not fancy water after the village have washed their feet in
it. When the path from the fields does not happen to pass near a
stream, water is often led to it in bamboo pipes from a long distance
in order that men coming up after the day’s work may have a drink and a
wash.
The Lhota House.
[Description.] A Lhota house varies in size from the wretched hovel of
some old widow to the house of a rich man which may measure thirty feet
long by eighteen feet broad—a limit far exceeded, however, by Aos,
Semas and Angamis. To build a fine house as a show of wealth a Lhota
would regard as great waste of money, and a Lhota likes to waste
nothing. The walls are of bamboo and the roof of thatch (lishu) or
palm-leaf (oko, Levistonia assamica). The front of all but the poorest
houses is semicircular, with a door in the middle of the semicircle.
The roof of the front semicircular room (mpongki) slopes up to the roof
of the main building like the roof of the semicircular apse of a
church. The upper roof-tree of the main building is carried forward
over the roof of the mpongki with a slight upward slope, and is
decorated with a little mock roof of thatch forming a sort of flying
gable. In the middle of the mpongki is a bamboo post, which is carried
through the roof of the apse to meet the projecting roof-tree of the
main building. The interior of a Lhota house strikes a stranger as very
cramped and uncomfortable. Unless one is very careful one bumps one’s
head at every step. There is none of the spaciousness which one notices
in the house of a rich Sema or Ao. Where the ground is suitable and
bamboos are plentiful there is a machan (khantsung) for sitting out at
the back. Sometimes the whole floor of the house is simply levelled
earth, as in a Sema or Angami house. More usually, however, a step made
of a short, thick log leads up from the mpongki to the doorway of the
main building, the floor of which is raised above the ground on short
posts and made of stout bamboo matting on a framework of whole bamboos,
the matting in turn being covered with a layer of beaten earth to keep
the draught from coming up from below. The floor of the sitting-out
platform at the back is of bamboo without any covering of earth. The
pattern of the floor of this platform varies according to whether the
owner of the house has or has not dragged a stone. In the former case a
mat of split bamboos interlaced in a simple chequer pattern is laid
over a foundation of whole bamboos laid at right angles to the back
wall of the house. In the latter case the place of the mat is taken by
split bamboos laid at right angles to the bamboo foundation.
In a Lhota household each wife has a separate sleeping cubicle with a
fireplace (nchü) in the middle. A well-to-do Lhota usually possesses
three wives. The main building of his house therefore contains three
sleeping cubicles and a little store-room (bhuritheng) at the back. The
cubicle nearest the mpongki is called lhuhrui and is occupied by the
third wife. The middle one is called olungo and is the abode of the
chief wife. The back cubicle is called tachungo and is used by the
second wife. Daughters sleep with their mother or, if she is dead, with
the step-mother they like best. Servants, if there be any, or a
bridegroom working for his bride in his father-in-law’s house sleep in
the mpongki, either on mats on the floor or on the pounding bench.
Guests sleep on mats on the floor of the store-room or in one of the
cubicles.
A step up from the mpongki and a door close to the wall (usually the
right-hand wall) lead into a narrow passage running the whole length of
the house onto the platform at the back. On the left, assuming the
passage to be on the right of the house, are the cubicles, the
partitions of which stretch about two-thirds across the house, and up
to the beams (khokang), the partitions between the mpongki and the
first cubicle, and between the store-room and the sitting-out platform,
going right up to the roof. The roof is supported on centre-posts
(tirhupu), a bamboo one being placed in the middle of the mpongki, and
a roughly-squared wooden one at each partition, and corner-posts
(okinge) at the corners of the main building. Small posts in the walls
help to support rafters (khirong). There is no chimney and the smoke
finds its way out as best it can. The cubicles are lighted only by
their fires.
[Construction.] When a Lhota builds a house he sets about it as
follows. After the harvest is in he chooses a site and touches the
ground with his hand. Then he goes off to a dreamer (hahang), of whom
there are two or three in every village, with a small present of food,
and asks him to dream that night and tell him in the morning if the
site will be a lucky one. Dreams of springs, gourds, cucumbers, leaves,
daos and spears, among other things, are good. To dream of digging,
hair dyed scarlet and black thread forebodes death. If the dreamer has
a vision of frogs, crabs, or tortoises the man who builds a house on
the site which is being tested will be ill. If the dreamer reports
visions of good omen (and he generally does, for a seer of evil dreams
does not keep his clients long) the builder of the house calls his
friends and relations together and work is begun. The positions of the
corner-posts are first marked out, the length and breadth and diagonals
being carefully measured. These posts are then put in, and after them
the centre-posts and side-posts of the walls. If the house is to have a
raised bamboo floor this is now made. Long bamboos or poles are then
laid along the top of the side-posts of the walls, which are notched to
receive them, and tied in position with yhandra bark. This bark is
taken from the tree in long strips and dried in the sun for some days.
The strips are twisted and wetted when required for use. On the top of
the skeleton wall thus made are laid and tied bamboo cross-beams in
pairs, each pair enclosing one of the wooden centre-posts, to which it
is firmly tied. There is no cross-beam across the mpongki. The tops of
the wooden centre-posts are then notched and a bamboo roof-tree
(mhongki) is put in place. This stretches out far in front of the main
building. At its junction with the centre-post standing between the
mpongki and the first cubicle it is broken half through and carefully
bent down, for the projecting end of it will eventually form the centre
rafter of the semicircular roof of the mpongki. The rafters (khirong)
are then put on. To enable them to be tied they must necessarily
project and form a series of forks along the top of the roof-tree. On
these forks is laid another roof-tree, which is not bent down like the
first, but projects right out above the mpongki and is supported by the
bamboo centre-post. Further to strengthen the rafters and prevent them
lifting in a high wind, two other roof-trees are placed in position in
the side forks on either side of the main roof-trees. These side
roof-trees project beyond the main building and are bent down like the
under one to form rafters for the mpongki. Partitions inside the house
are now built and purlins (sütesüyo) are put on, all being so bent as
to form purlins for the mpongki. The bottom pair of purlins are so made
that the projecting ends can be bent to meet and be tied. This gives
the outline of the semicircular apse of the mpongki. Posts are put in
to which the bottom pair of purlins are tied in position. The
projecting ends of roof-trees and other purlins are then brought down
and tied to it, and the framework of the house is complete. Chequer
pattern bamboo walls are quickly put up and the thatching is begun.
Sections of thatching about six feet long are prepared as follows by
men on the ground, and handed up to men on the roof, who put them in
position. Thatch is carefully bent double over a thin bamboo about six
feet long, care being taken to see that it forms a fringe without gaps.
Then to keep the thatch in place two more bamboos of the same size and
length are placed on either side of it about five inches below the
first bamboo. These are firmly tied together through the thatch with
strips of bamboo. With palm leaves the top bamboo is omitted, a fringe
of overlapping palm leaves being held in place by the two thin bamboos,
one on either side. These fringes are then tied on to the rafters and
purlins, beginning at the eaves and working upwards so that each fringe
overlaps the one below it. Finally, thatch is doubled over the upper
roof-tree and fastened down with two long bamboo wind-ties. This last
layer of thatch extends to the end of the upper roof-tree, forming a
sort of flying gable where it projects over the mpongki. Light bamboo
doors are then made. These are not attached to the door-posts in any
way and can be lifted and laid aside. Two crossed bamboos are attached
to the door by a loop of bark string and jammed behind the door-posts
to keep it in place. A man who has dragged a stone more than once can
decorate his roof with crossed bamboos representing mithan horns, but
this is considered rather a snobbish display of wealth and the
privilege is rarely taken advantage of. In some Southern Lhota villages
the Puthis’ houses have the roof decorated with crossed bamboos of
which the ends are split and splayed apart. This is a conventional
representation of human hands, and the right to have the roofs of their
houses ornamented in this way was formerly confined to men who had
succeeded in bringing the fingers or toes of an enemy home from a raid.
Rich Aos decorate their roofs in a similar way.
Before such a house can be occupied lurking evil spirits must of course
be dealt with. For this the oldest of the men who helped to build the
house is called in to act as tsandhramo epang (“driver away of evil
spirits”). Having mixed ginger and “rohi madhu” in a new “chunga,” he
sprinkles the inside of the house with the concoction and says, “We are
going to stay here. You go away.” He then throws away the “chunga,”
which must never be used for anything else. The old man then marks out
the places for the hearth-stones, which the owner places in position.
The owner then either lights a fire with a fire-stick or fetches fire
from another house—any house will do. Matches are never used by Lhotas
for ceremonial fire-making. A meal is now cooked and partaken of by the
owner and his household and friends and the old man, who then takes the
omens. He holds in his hands a small chicken called kichakro, which
each member of the household touches with his or her left hand. This he
strangles and disembowels, taking the omens from the entrails. After
which he cuts it up and, holding eight pieces of meat in each hand,
takes his seat with the male members of the household on his right and
the female members on his left, and swings his hands backwards and
forwards four times with an underhand bowling action, counting the
number of swings aloud. The chicken is the old man’s fee, and he takes
it away, returning in the morning to report whether he has had dreams
of good or evil omen. A man may not act as tsandhramo epang for more
than one household on the same day. The only restriction placed on
occupants of a new house is one forbidding them to allow men from
another village to enter the house till the earth which has been put on
the bamboo floor is dry. A house of which the floor is mother earth may
be entered by strangers as soon as the above ceremony has been
performed.
[The contents of the house.] In the front room of the Lhota house are
kept heavy articles, such as the pounding table (tsampo), liquor vat
(ochen), and pigs’ feeding trough (wokochakpfu), the last being merely
a log split in two and roughly hollowed. The pounding table is hewn
from one piece of wood. In the top, which is slightly concave, one, two
or three holes about six inches in diameter are burnt. In these the
rice is pounded with heavy poles—an arduous occupation at which the
daughters of the house spend a good deal of their time. The liquor vat
consists of a log hollowed out from one end. Trees for this are
carefully chosen, but a very large proportion of vats split or spring a
leak before they are finished. On the wall of the front room are hung
the feet of game which the owner of the house has killed. Spears are
always kept stuck in the ground in front of the big wooden post. Along
the sides of the inner cubicles are the small plank beds of the
household. According to Lhota ideas a single thickness of cloth spread
on the bed makes quite a soft enough mattress. Round the fire are
little wooden stools about six inches high cut from one piece of wood.
Floor space being limited in a Lhota house, most things are kept on
rough bamboo shelves (theka) fixed to the beams of the house. Here are
kept bundles of salt wrapped in leaves, cooking pots, baskets of yeast,
traps, carrying baskets, and a thousand and one things. For cooking
rice and meat Naga-made earthen pots are generally used, but for
heating “madhu” shallow iron pots from the plains are popular. In them
the brew can be stirred easily and without risk of an upset. Lhota
houses contain very few drinking cups. Villages on the Sema border
obtain bamboo cups from their neighbours, and nowadays cheap German
enamel and aluminium ware are often used. But the true Lhota cup is a
folded plantain leaf. It is really an astonishing sight to watch one’s
hostess fold a piece of plantain leaf into a cup with one hand, while
she talks hard to one guest and pours out “madhu” for another, either
from a gourd or, more commonly, an old beer bottle. The usual type of
dish is a shallow wooden one, with no legs, called opyi, many of which
are made in Lungsa. Some households also use a wooden dish on a raised
stand, rather like a dessert dish, called pyikhyu. In the bamboo
matting of the walls are stuck daos, bamboo spoons and many odds and
ends. The hollow bamboos in which water is carried up from the spring
are kept leaning against the walls. Over the fire is suspended a bamboo
platform about five feet square. This prevents sparks flying up to the
roof and also serves as a convenient place on which to dry meat, and
keep such pots and spoons and things as are in continual use. The
little store-room at the back is comparatively free from smoke and in
it ceremonial ornaments and spare cloths are hung.
Manufactures.
[Spinning.] Spinning, like dyeing and weaving, is performed entirely by
women, and every Lhota woman is expected to weave the cloths of her
husband and family. The thread is spun as follows. Home-grown
cotton—the Lhotas are great cotton-growers—is cleaned of its seeds by
being rolled on a flat stone with a small stick, used like a
rolling-pin. This cleaning is a tedious process which generally falls
to the lot of the old widows of the village, who eke out a scanty
livelihood thereby. The cleaned cotton after being fluffed out by being
flicked with the string of an instrument (loko) like a miniature bow is
then gently rolled between the hands into “sausages” about nine inches
long, after which it is ready to be spun into thread. The Lhota spindle
(humtsi) is a very primitive affair and is similar to that of the Aos,
Semas and Angamis. It consists of a thin penholder-shaped stick of hard
wood about eight inches long, tapering to a fine point at the top, and
about the thickness of a pencil at the thickest point near the bottom.
Just above the thickest point is fixed a whorl made of soft black
stone. This is made by rubbing on other stones till it is flat and
round a piece of the soft stone used for the purpose. To make the hole
in the middle a man holds it between his toes and twiddles a spear on
it between his hands till the iron butt of the spear goes through. For
spinning the tip of the spindle is wetted with the tongue. The spindle
is then spun clock-wise with the right hand against the outside of the
right thigh, the base of the spindle being kept in bounds by a
conveniently cup-shaped piece of broken pottery covered with a bit of
rag. The “sausage” of cotton is held in the left hand, and the end of
it laid against the wetted tip of the spindle till it catches and the
thread (oying) begins to form. When about a yard has been spun it is
unwound from the tip of the spindle and rewound just above the stone
whorl. The spindle is then worked as before, the cotton being held in
the left hand, and thread accumulates above the whorl till the spindle
becomes full, when it is wound off onto a wooden frame (kukung), shaped
like a double T, and another spindleful is begun, and so on till the
kukung is full. The thread is next hardened by being steeped for about
five minutes in hot rice-water, after which the skeins (yingsak) are
strung on a stick (phutsi) to dry. It is forbidden for a man to eat the
boiled rice from which this rice-water has been taken. When the thread
is required for weaving it is wound into a ball (yingtso), the woman
who is sitting winding keeping the skein stretched round her knees.
[Dyeing.] Three colours, red, dark blue and light blue, are used by the
Lhotas. Red thread is generally bought either from a shop or from an Ao
village, for red dyeing is considered a risky occupation likely to
bring on dysentery, and therefore only suitable for old women, who are
of no value to the community. The industry, however, is carried on in a
few Lhota villages, such as Changsü and Okotso. To make red dye the
root of Rubia sikkimensis (karung) is pounded up, and another leaf
(’ntawo) is pounded and added. The mixture is then boiled with water,
and the thread put in while the water is boiling. The pot is then
lifted off the fire and allowed to stand for three days, when the
thread is taken out and dried.
Dark blue dye is made from the leaves of Strobilanthes flaccidi-folius
(tchemo), pounded up and boiled with water. The thread is steeped in
the mixture for half an hour and is then dried. This gives a colour
like navy blue. To make light blue the leaves which have been already
boiled and used for making dark blue dye are drained and dried and kept
for a year. They are then broken up fine and mixed with cold water and
the white ash of burnt bark, and put to stand till next day, when the
thread is put in and left there for a day, or for two days if the dye
is weak. It is then taken out and dried.
Dyeing is exclusively performed by women, who when they are so occupied
must refrain from sexual intercourse and must not eat beef, goat’s
flesh, dog’s flesh, dried fish, or that horrible vegetable known in
Naga-Assamese as “stinking dal” (nyingtyingtsing), in fact any food
with a strong smell. If any man were to dye a piece of thread he would
never again have any luck in fishing or hunting. No one but the dyer
must look on while thread is being dyed or the colour will be patchy
and bad.
[Weaving.] Like the Semas and Aos, the Lhotas use a simple
single-heddle tension loom (tsirochunglung) which is set up and
operated as follows. A beam (tsikam) of bamboo about three feet long is
securely fastened to the wall of the house or any other suitable firm
support in a horizontal position and at a height of about two feet from
the ground. On this are slipped two loops (tsisü) of bark string, in
which is put the other bar (ncho) of the loom. The loops are set at a
distance apart equal to the breadth of the piece of cloth to be woven.
The lower bar (ncho) is notched at either end, to enable the weaving
belt (ephi) to be attached to it. This belt is of woven cane or bamboo
and is worn by the operator in the small of her back. By it, as she
sits in front of the loom, she can keep the necessary tension on the
warp. Both the beams being in position and a strain having been taken
on the tsisü, each tsisü is crossed by the lower string being pulled up
and the upper down and a thin stick of bamboo (yingyi) is put in
position. This is naturally held firmly in place by the downward
pressure of the lower strings and the upward pressure of the upper.
Then, working towards the weaver, the lease-rod (chunglung) is put in
close to the yingyi without crossing the strings. Below the lease-rod
the sword (tsitam) is inserted, the strings being crossed as in the
case of the yingyi. The twine which is to form the heddle-loops (ena)
is now tied loosely onto the left end of the sword and laid along it.
This twine is sometimes thick cotton thread and is sometimes made from
the twisted bark of a creeper called enazü (Pineraria Thungbergiana).
Two balls of thread are then taken and their loose ends twisted
together and joined. One ball is held in the lap of the weaver while
the other is passed over the ncho, under the tsitam and the ena which
is lying along it, over the chunglung and under and then round over and
under the yingyi and then over the tsikam, from whence it is brought
straight back to the weaver under the loom. The second ball is then
passed under the ncho and over the ena and under the tsitam and
chunglung, and under and back over and under the yingyi and over the
tsikam, and is brought back to the weaver under the loom. The process
is repeated till all the warp (elomo) has been set. The result is that
the ena forms a series of heddle-loops and the yingyi (the object of
which is to shorten the upper side of the shed made by the lease-rod)
is entirely encircled by each warp. Unless the loom be a very small one
the weaver cannot reach the tsikam. She therefore generally has an
assistant, who can be a man, to pass the warp thread over and under the
tsikam. The two ends of the warp thread, when all has been set are
turned back across the warp and woven into the material. The shuttle
(yingshü), which is simply a thin piece of bamboo, is filled from the
ball by being spun against the right thigh. This process and that of
setting the warp are the only two in which a man may take part. Before
weaving can begin the tsitam, a flat piece of hard wood, is turned on
edge and the heddle (natyung) is slipped in alongside it so as to take
up the heddle-loops formed by the ena. The tsitam is then removed. The
object of substituting the sword for the heddle while the warp is being
set is to ensure big enough heddle-loops. The tsisü are then removed,
and the lease-rod is moved down close to the heddle thus giving the
warp enough strain to keep the latter in place. In weaving the shuttle
is shot backwards and forwards by hand, the heddle being raised every
alternate pick. To increase the shed the sword is put in for each pick
and turned edgeways. For the check pattern so common in women’s
body-cloths both warp and weft (mpyo) are changed. For ornamentation
little bits of red wool or yellow thread bought from a shop are worked
in by hand as the weaving progresses, the warp being manipulated with a
porcupine quill. Ordinarily the first weft-element passes alternately
over and under a single warp-element, the second passing over those
under which the first passed. A variety of pattern is that in which a
single weft element passes alternately under and over pairs of warp
elements. Another variety is that in which a single weft element passes
under and over alternate pairs of warp elements and is returned under
those under which it passed before, giving a pattern of interwoven
pairs of warp and weft elements. Four pieces of cloth about one foot
broad by five feet long go to make an ordinary man’s cloth. These
strips are sewn together along their long sides. The Lhota needle
(otyam) is simply a piece of bamboo sharpened at one end. To the head
is attached by wax a piece of thread about two inches long known as
otyam emhi (“needle-tail”) onto which the thread used for sewing is
twisted. The broad stripes of light blue seen in so many Lhota cloths
are invariably separate strips, sewn between two of the main strips of
the cloth. A woman in the old days was forbidden to weave while her
husband was absent on a raid, as it might cause him to trip over
creepers in the jungle and fall into the hands of the enemy.
[Pottery.] Though foreign articles are being used more and more Lhotas
still make most of their own pots. They are round, and slightly
contracted at the top, with a curved rim by which they can be lifted
off the fire. The only ornamentation used is a string pattern which is
applied by patting the pot while still wet with a flat piece of wood
covered with coarse string binding (khuzü). The clay is obtained from
the banks of small streams. Two kinds are used, grey (linyikcho), which
is the best, and red (linyocho), which is not so good. Only women can
make pots, but the industry is not restricted to old women. The clay is
broken up and kneaded on a stone with a little water. After being left
over-night it is again moistened and kneaded. A round base is first
made by hand. A wall of clay is built onto this and kneaded well onto
the base with the left hand, the wall being supported on the outside by
a small stick (phutamphen) held in the right hand. The pot is then
shaped with the left hand and stick, and put to dry in the sun while
other pots are being made.
After the pots have been dried in the house for three or four days a
rough platform of wood is built on the ground outside the village. On
this the pots are laid upside down and twigs and rubbish and rice straw
piled on them and fired. In this kiln the pots are left till next
morning, when they must be taken away before dawn. Certain precautions
have to be observed. The woman making the pots must refrain from sexual
intercourse, and must not eat any strong-smelling food, such as beef,
goat’s flesh, dog’s flesh, dried fish or “stinking dal,” while she is
so engaged, for to eat these things would cause the pots to “ring”
badly. Anyone may watch the clay being kneaded, but no one must look on
while the pot is being shaped, and only those helping the woman by
carrying the pots or collecting fuel may be present at the burning.
Were a man to see the pots being fired they would all crack. Nor must
any dog come near, for should so much as a single hair of a dog touch a
pot before it is finished the pot would have a hole at that very place.
[Iron-work.] The trade of a blacksmith is regarded by the Lhotas as a
very unlucky one, and is restricted to the families members of which
have been blacksmiths in the past. It is believed that no blacksmith
lives long after he stops work. It is therefore not surprising that
Lhota blacksmiths are few and far between. Nor is there much need for
them. Villages near the plains buy all they require from Assamese
smiths. The Rengmas are great blacksmiths and make all the weapons and
implements required by the Southern Lhotas of the inner ranges, while
the Northern Lhotas are supplied in a similar way by the Aos. The few
Lhota blacksmiths there are use foreign tools bought from the plains,
though an indigenous type of bellows (yongphophen) is still in use in
places. This consists of two sections of bamboo set up perpendicularly
side by side in a clay base. Into each of these is fitted a piston
bound all over with hen’s feathers with their thin ends down. The
downward stroke of the piston being against the “grain” of the feathers
and the upward stroke with the “grain,” quite an efficient valvular
action results. These pistons are worked alternately by an assistant
who holds one in each hand. At the bottom of each piston-case is a
hole, to which is attached a bamboo tube (zendro). These tubes emerge
together at the fire. Only soft iron is used. This is obtained from the
plains in the form of old tea-garden hoes. Formerly iron is said to
have been found and worked at Khoro Ghat on the edge of the plains, by
a village of the Thangwe clan according to one tradition, or by Shans
or Burmese according to another. [73] The finished article is tempered
by being dipped in water. This tempering is not meant to be final. The
purchaser after using the dao, or whatever the article may be, for a
time, heats it in a fire of the slow-burning bark of a certain tree
(lepokriphu) and tempers it in salt and water, or bamboo-pickle and
water to his taste.
So impregnated with misfortune is the whole trade of the blacksmith
that no house is ever built on the site of an old forge, though the
forge is allowed to be built inside the village. To bring a piece of
dross from a forge into a house would cause all the inmates to fall
ill. With this in mind a woman in Yemkha in 1919 left a piece of dross
as a parting present when she ran away from her husband.
[Basket-work.] Living in a land where cane and bamboo are plentiful
Lhotas are naturally expert basket-makers. Every man can make his own
household baskets, but the manufacture of difficult things such as cane
helmets (kiven) is generally left to experts. No woman is allowed to do
any basket-work of any kind. For rough baskets strips of fresh bamboo
are used. Cane is far more valuable and is reserved for articles which
are meant to last a long time. It is left to season before being used.
For rough work a chequer pattern is generally used, but for shields
(otsung), cane helmets, and grain baskets a twill pattern is used. A
pretty cross-warped pattern with wefts parallel to each other and
passing over and under the same alternate warps is used for the outside
of rain-shields (phuchyo), giving an open-work effect rather like the
cane seat of a bedroom chair.
[Wood-work.] Rough planks are hacked out with a dao, a most wasteful
method, as the whole thickness of a tree has to go to make each plank.
Wooden dishes are cut out of single pieces of wood with an adze (ophü).
They are then dried in the rough and rubbed smooth with stones and a
curious rough-surfaced leaf called phukirongti (Clerodendrum serratum).
Small “madhu” vats and very occasionally wooden shields are made in the
same way. The posts of “morungs” (champo) are carved in relief with
conventional representations of hornbills and mithan heads. The work is
done with the dao and is as a rule very rough—far inferior to the
carvings of Semas and Angamis, who in turn are much behind the Konyaks.
[Nets.] Nets like big landing-nets are made out of twisted strips of
bark from the erhingya tree. They are fitted onto a circular frame to
which a long handle is attached, and are used to land the stupefied
fish which come to the top when a river is “poisoned.” They are made by
men, never by women. The maker must remain chaste the previous night.
[Beads.] Among the few indigenous beads of the Naga Hills are the
little black beads (eshe) made from the seeds of a species of wild
plantain (sheyu) by the Lhotas. The industry is confined to women and
exists chiefly among the Southern Lhotas. The seeds are tough, and both
ends of each seed have to be laboriously chewed off. They are
astringent, and “bead chewing” becomes a perfect habit with some women.
The seeds are then pierced with a bamboo needle and strung, and the
strings rolled on a flat stone till the beads become cylindrical and a
good polish has been obtained. They are used for necklaces and look
exceedingly well against a brown skin.
[Hides.] No process of tanning is known. Skins which are required for
shields or any other purpose are merely cleaned and dried in the sun.
[Trade.] There is no tradition of any old form of currency, such as
beads, or gongs, though thin key-shaped pieces of iron (chabli) such as
the Aos used to use as currency are occasionally owned as heirlooms.
Trade was apparently always carried on by barter in the days before the
British coinage came into use. Even nowadays cotton which is taken down
to the plains is almost invariably bartered for salt. A peculiar custom
obtains when mithan, ivory armlets and boar’s tushes are bought and
sold. These articles are particularly liable to be infected with evil
fortune, certain marks being regarded as unlucky, and so on. An old man
is therefore always employed as an intermediary (lantse or thantsowe)
between the parties, and he finally settles the price when the
bargaining has gone on long enough. Any ill luck is believed to attach
itself to him as nominal buyer, rather than to the real buyer, who pays
him a commission of Re. 1 for a mithan, eight annas for an ivory armlet
and four annas for a pair of boar’s tushes. If anything intimately
connected with the person, such as a cloth or a dao, be sold the seller
retains a thread from the cloth or scrapes a tiny shaving off the
handle of the dao, for were he to sell the whole of something which was
almost part of himself the buyer might be able to exercise some magical
influence over him. [74]
Loans.
The rate of interest on loans varies according to the nature of the
thing lent. That on money is usually 50 per cent. simple interest,
running for two years only. The interest on rice is four baskets a year
for every six baskets borrowed. The interest has to be paid year by
year till the principal has been returned. A debt of seed paddy must be
paid before all other debts. The highest rate of interest is demanded
for salt, for which 100 per cent. per annum compound interest has to be
paid. The result is that loans of salt are promptly repaid.
Agriculture.
[Method of cultivation.] The Lhota is above all an agriculturist.
Rarely does his ambition extend beyond a bumper crop. Service under
Government has few attractions for him. Even if he takes a post he
often throws it up after a year or two and says he would rather go back
and live in his village and cultivate his land. Rice is the staple food
of the tribe and is far and away the most important crop grown. The
method of cultivation is that known as “jhuming.” A piece of jungle is
cut and burnt, and the land cultivated for two years and then allowed
to go back to jungle, under which it remains for a period varying from
four to fifteen years. If a man is short of land he obviously has to
cultivate each piece at shorter intervals. If he is the lord of wide
acres the intervals are longer. The bigger the jungle is allowed to
grow the more will mould accumulate and the thicker will be the deposit
of ash when it is burnt. On an average among the Lhotas a piece of land
is cultivated once in ten years. The whole village cultivates in one
block, each man having his own piece of land. Isolated patches of
cultivation would merely provide food for wild pig, monkeys and other
pests. The jungle is cut about December. [75] (The times of
agricultural operations vary a good deal according to the height and
climate of the village concerned.) When the time comes to begin
operations each man goes to his land and clears a little piece of
jungle. Should he see a snake while so occupied he probably runs home
as fast as his legs will carry him, for he would die were he to
cultivate that piece of land. If no such evil omen occurs he cuts a
stake, sets it up, cuts a notch in the side, puts a little earth from a
worm-cast in the notch and goes home. This is regarded as a sort of
oath that the owner proposes to clear that piece of jungle. He
carefully notes what dreams he has that night. Sometimes he puts a twig
from the jungle in question under his head. A bad dream would be enough
to make him select another piece of land for that year. On the day when
he puts up the stake he must not eat meat from a tiger’s kill or the
flesh of dog, goat or cattle. His wife may cook his food for him, but
he must eat separately from her in the morning, having remained chaste
the night before. In clearing the jungle everyone takes part—men, women
and children. A man helps his friends and they help him. The jungle is
cleared from the bottom of the slope upwards. Bushes and saplings are
cut close to the ground. Big trees are left standing, but thin branches
are trimmed so that they shall not shade the crop. Usually a bunch of
leaves is left growing at the top of big trees of which the other
branches are pruned away. Lhotas attach no particular significance to
this practice; but among the Aos it appears to be followed only by rich
men. [76]
The jungle is left till March to dry, when it is all burnt on the same
day. The man who is to start the fire is selected by cutting little
chips from a piece of stick and watching how they fall—the ordinary
Lhota way of taking omens. The man chosen first makes fire with a
fire-stick and sets the dry jungle alight. Then everyone joins in and
lights a long line of fire which sweeps uphill till it dies out in the
green, uncut jungle at the top. Next day is emung. After that work
begins in earnest. Stones and half-burnt logs are collected and little
barriers (oliecho) are built along the hillsides to prevent the earth
being washed away. Sometimes, as at Mangya, rough stone terrace walls
are built. The fields are then dug over with a single-handed digger
(chukchü), a small triangular iron blade fitted like an adze onto a
bamboo handle. This preliminary hoeing is omitted by most Northern
Lhota villages, who merely clear the land of rubbish before sowing. The
fields which have already carried a crop the year before are now
weeded, and the weeds gathered into heaps with a small bamboo rake
(keya) and burnt.
[Sowing and the ceremonies connected with it.] Before anyone can sow
his land certain ceremonies have to be performed. The first of these is
Thruven, which is performed first by the Puthi, and after him in the
course of the next few days by anyone who has dragged a stone or done
the Etha ceremony. The procedure is as follows. The Puthi goes with his
wife to the spot (Thruvenphen) just outside the village where tradition
says this ceremony must be performed, generally near the opya—the post
set up and speared at the Oyantsoa ceremony. He takes with him a twig
of bamboo (a shoot growing up directly from the ground will not do),
some chicken meat, boiled rice, “pita madhu,” ginger, a little
seed-rice, and some seeds of a plant with a variegated leaf called
orho. After pouring a little “madhu” on the ground, he arranges four
pieces of the bamboo twig in the form of a square and puts a large leaf
on the ground to his right and another on his left. On the right-hand
leaf he puts ten little pieces, and on the left-hand leaf nine little
pieces each of thatching grass, ginger, and chicken meat, and sprinkles
a little seed-rice over each heap. The heaps are then tied up in the
leaves and put in the square of bamboo twigs. Then close by he sows the
orho seeds, making a miniature fence round them, the sticks of which
are tied together at the top. This is a purely formal act, and it does
not seem to matter in the least whether the orho seeds ever come up or
not. Next morning the Puthi sows six seeds of rice in his garden plot.
This formal sowing of rice is omitted by the other men who do the
Thruven ceremony. Sexual intercourse is forbidden the night after this
ceremony. When the last man has finished the village keeps one day’s
emung. Anyone who has been married the previous winter, and everyone
who has done all social “gennas” and dragged a stone performs a further
ceremony before sowing his fields. Among the Northern Lhotas it is done
as follows. In the morning one of the old women who acted as
Ponyiratsen [77] at his wedding, or failing her any old man of his clan
who has done no social “gennas,” comes to his house, and there ties
eight nungyung leaves into two bundles of four. She then goes alone
down the path leading to his fields, taking with her the nungyung
leaves, two bamboo “chungas,” some rice, and a smouldering brand—for
fire is a great protection against evil spirits. She faces towards the
fields and lays a bundle of nungyung leaves on each side of the path,
with a “chunga” on each bundle, and a little bit of smoking brand
behind it. She then goes straight to her own home, taking with her the
rice, which is her fee. Next day the owner goes down to the field with
his friends and sows a little patch first, praying that his crop may be
as close as elephant grass, as spreading as a rubber tree and free from
weeds. He must refrain from sexual intercourse the night before he does
this, and must neither take food nor speak to anyone in the morning
till he has sown the first patch. Among the Southern Lhotas the old man
or woman who does the ceremony on the first day puts on each side of
the path a little heap of rice husks, a smouldering stick and two
crossed yutso leaves, on which are put six pieces of burnt wood, six
pieces of pork, a little boiled rice and a sprinkling of “madhu.” The
owner of the field must not eat any of the pig which provides the pork
used here. The formal act of sowing takes place next day as among the
Northern Lhotas. Both on the night preceding and the night after the
formal sowing sexual intercourse is forbidden among the Southern
Lhotas, and in the morning before going to his fields the man must eat
separately from his wife, though she may cook his food. Unlike his
neighbours the Aos, the Lhota does not sow broadcast. With the digger
(chukchü) held in his right hand he scratches a little hole. His left
hand is full of seed-rice, of which he allows four or five grains to
drop between the middle and index finger into the hole, which is filled
in with a stroke of the digger. Both men and women sow. The day’s
supply of seed-rice is carried in a basket on the left hip, the sowers
working their way in a line from the bottom of the hill upwards. From
the time the crop is sown till it ripens everyone is busy keeping his
fields as free from weeds as possible. The weeder (ehe) is a strip of
iron about nine inches long and one inch broad, bent into a semicircle
and fixed to a short bamboo handle. [78] Every field is weeded at least
twice, and often as many as six times—the oftener the better. The weeds
are collected into heaps along the edges of the fields, or on stony
patches where nothing will grow.
[The Motharatsen ceremony.] Among the Southern Lhotas a yearly ceremony
called Motharatsen is performed by the Puthi and Yenga only when the
crop is about half grown to prevent it being damaged by a small white
grub (ora). On a certain day of which he has given previous notice the
Puthi collects unhusked rice from the whole village and with some of it
buys a pig. This he kills on the day of the ceremony, and going outside
the village lays ten pieces of meat and ten pieces of ginger (osing) on
crossed yutso leaves to his right, and nine pieces of meat and ginger
on crossed yutso leaves to his left. The next day is emung. Though the
Northern Lhotas still keep the emung the ceremony has fallen into
abeyance among them. But the Southern Lhotas firmly believe in its
efficacy. In 1918 the people of Yanthămo attributed the failure of
their crops to the fact that a stranger from another village had
entered the house of their Puthi after he had collected the
subscription of rice and before he had performed the ceremony.
[The Amungkam ceremony.] When the rice comes into the ear ceremonies
are again performed to ensure a good crop. The first ceremony is called
Amungkam, and is performed by the Puthi and Yenga at the spot
(amungkampen) a little way outside the village at which it was
performed when the village was founded. The Puthi kills and cooks a
little boar at his own house and goes with his Yenga to the
amungkampen, taking with him a new cooking-pot, some of the boar’s
meat, a small live pig, a hen, an egg, a fire-stick and some yutso
leaves. The Puthi’s wife may accompany him, but the Yenga’s wife must
stay behind. The Puthi makes a fire with the fire-stick, and near it
lays out four bamboo twigs in the form of a square, in the middle of
which he sets up the egg on end, flanked on either side with forty-two
small pieces of meat on crossed yutso leaves. He then spears the live
pig, praying to Rangsi, the deity of the crops, that they may be good.
The pig is singed over the fire and cut up, the stomach and entrails
being cooked in the new pot and eaten by the Puthi. The rest of the
meat is divided up, one piece for every man in the village who has
dragged a stone. The Puthi then strangles the chicken between the
finger and thumb of his right hand and watches how the excreta fall as
it struggles. If they are dry there will not be much rain and the crops
will ripen well. If they are watery, storms will cause the crops to
rot. The entrails are next taken out and examined. If they are full the
crop will be good; if they are empty it will be poor. These are pushed
back into the chicken, which is placed on the ground by the egg. The
Puthi builds a little fence round the offering and hangs up the
fire-stick on it, the pot being turned upside down and left on the
ground. He then goes home and calls his friends to his house to drink
“madhu” and partake of the pig he killed before leaving home. To each
guest he offers a piece of pork and asks if he intends to do the
Rangsikam ceremony, which is voluntary. To accept the pork means that
the answer is in the affirmative. To refuse it means that the answer is
in the negative. Early on the morning of the next day, which is emung,
the villagers go and see if a wild cat or other animal has taken away
the chicken which had been left at amungkampen. For it to be taken away
forbodes ill for the village.
[The Rangsikam ceremony.] In Akuk no one may do the Rangsikam ceremony
till after the Lanvung “genna,” but in other villages it may be done
either before or after. The ceremony, which is also known as Likam, is
performed as follows. The master of the house having slept apart from
his wife the night before and eaten apart from her in the morning,
though she may cook his food, kills a pig, and taking the cooked meat,
“madhu,” boiled rice, a live hen and a new pot, goes down to his
field-house—a shed built by each man in his fields where he can shelter
from the rain or eat his mid-day meal with his wife and family. Having
made a fire with a fire-stick inside the house he holds the hen by the
wings with his right hand and walks round the outside of the house,
swinging the hen and calling out the names of all the different
varieties of rice he knows, whether he has sown them or not, and asking
Rangsi to give him a good crop of them. He then strangles the chicken
and takes the omens exactly as the Puthi does in the Amungkam ceremony.
It is worth noting that this is the only occasion on which anything is
killed in the field-house. Otherwise it is forbidden to bring raw meat
of any kind into a field-house, or kill anything or have sexual
intercourse in it. This is why the approaches to field-houses near
paths are often “panjied” as a gentle reminder to passers-by that they
must not run in to shelter from the rain if they are carrying raw meat.
To resume, the hen is plucked, and cooked in the new pot. It is not
eaten by the sacrificer, but is taken back to the village and given to
an old man of his clan. The entrails are put in the pot, which is
covered with a leaf and buried up to the rim behind the field-house.
The little bamboo basket in which the hen was brought is stuck all over
with its feathers and put, together with the fire-stick, beside the
pot. All then wash their hands and the proceedings end with a meal from
the provisions brought down. From the time when the preparation of the
“madhu” for this ceremony is begun till the ceremony is over, sexual
intercourse is forbidden and no member of the household must touch a
corpse, meat from a tiger’s kill or the flesh of cattle, dogs or goats.
On the day of the ceremony no man from another village may enter the
house before the family go down to the field-house.
[The Lanvung ceremony.] In the damp climate of Assam jungle grows with
extraordinary speed. The seventh day after the Amungkam emung is set
aside for a united path-clearing (Lanvung) [79] by the whole village.
During the six days preceding the Lanvung day nothing may be sold or
killed in the village, and no one may touch a tiger’s kill, or perform
any “genna” such as Potsokam or Etchhienya. On the seventh day the
working companies each kill a big pig, every man subscribing his share
of the price. The next day is a general picnic and the whole village
turns out to clear the jungle from the paths. There is much feasting
and drinking, and the bucks have jumping competitions and perform feats
of strength. Among the Northern Lhotas as each branch path is cleared
roof-shaped bamboo erections (vangkoseng), like double pen racks with
bamboos laid on them in the place of pens, are set up at each fork, to
the accompaniment of much ho-hoing. [80] The next day is emung.
[Protection of crops.] While the crop is ripening the owner is kept
busy protecting it from the ravages of beasts and birds. Little
look-outs (zengki) are built in the trees, well out of the reach of an
elephant’s trunk. Wild animals are driven away by shouting or clapping
two pieces of bamboo together, or blowing a bamboo trumpet (phupphu),
or by building a big fire and feeding it with bamboos, which go off
with a loud bang as each section is burst by the expanding hot air
inside it. There is no hedge between field and field, but a rough fence
is built round the whole block of village cultivation in order to keep
out deer and cattle. In the old days low gaps were left in the fence
here and there. Any deer which gave way to temptation and jumped
through one of these gaps found itself impaled on “panjis.” Monkeys are
most destructive and difficult to get rid of. One plan is to catch a
small monkey, pierce its ears and ornament them with large lumps of
cotton-wool. It is then let go and tries to rejoin the troop, who
promptly turn tail at the sight of this strange apparition. The more
the troop runs away the harder the little monkey tries to catch them,
and the harder it tries to catch them, the faster they go. To drive
away birds pieces of bamboo leaf-sheaf, sometimes cut into the rough
outline of a hovering hawk, are tied from the end of a string to a pole
and put to flutter in the breeze.