BURMESE RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION
Judging from appearances, the Burmese woman is deeply religious. We see
her offering her flowers before the many shrines scattered throughout
the country, and hear the deep-toned bell hanging before the lord of
light as she strikes it three times to call the attention of the spirits
of the air to her piety. On days of festival the pagoda is thronged with
gaily dressed women, and at the greatest of all pagoda feasts, that of
the Shwe Dagon in Rangoon, women pilgrims from every part of Burmah come
to lay their tribute before the greatest shrine in Buddha-land. They
come by train and boat and bullock-cart, and to many it is the most
important event of the whole year. Girls look forward to the chance it
offers to show their charms to the male world, old ladies count on the
meeting of friends and the discussion of the events of the past year,
while to all it offers a chance to lay up merit for themselves and
advance a step on the long road that leads to Neban.
Near the temple are marionette shows, and theatrical companies make
these festivals their place of greatest profit, while the merchants
offer their wares for sale, and the sellers of incense, candles,
flowers, and offerings for the different shrines reap their harvest. Yet
over the whole joyous occasion, which would strike the casual observer
as simply a holiday for these happy people, is thrown the veil of a deep
religious motive. In the fascination of the secular gaieties around
them, these spiritual women do not forget the real object of their
pilgrimage, and the prayers and protestations before the altars, and the
constant booming of the deep-toned bells, show that praise of the Lord
of lords is not forgotten amidst the excitement and pleasures of the
world outside.
The Burmese woman may go to the pagoda on the duty days of each month,
of which there are four, or she may stay at home. The only force upon
her is that of public opinion, yet she generally goes, as it is the
meeting-place of all her world, and the care-free Burmese, both men and
women, are always looking for a chance of amusement and a meeting with
friends.
Whether or not she attends these duty days once a week is solely
dependent upon her piety, or her love of companionship; but deeply
ingrained within her soul is a daily duty that no Burman, unless of the
very advanced class, neglects—the propitiation of the nats, those
spirits inhabiting the air, the ground, the water, and all things, both
animate and inanimate. Even the stones upon the roadside may be the home
of spirits who may prove destructive or hostile at any time. To guard
against the evils that might come with neglect of such powerful enemies
to his happiness, the Burmese erects a shrine at the extremity of his
village, sometimes no larger than a bird house built in the pipul-tree.
There he may offer food, and light his tiny lamps, and pour his
offerings of water, and burn his incense.
He leaves the nats of the household to the especial care of his wife,
who covers all the posts within the rooms with white cloth, so that they
may be comfortable while sitting in their favourite places. To
counteract the effect of the evil spirits who may wish to take up their
dwelling within the home, the careful housewife keeps near at hand a jar
of water that has been blessed, and daily sprinkles floor and roof for
the protection of her family. It is believed that people who have been
executed for their crimes or who have met a violent death become nats
and haunt the place where they so suddenly departed from this world, and
this belief led to many cruel practices in former times. The burial of
men and women alive under the gates of a city originated in this desire
to protect its inhabitants, as these spirits wander around the place of
their death, and bring disaster upon strangers who may come with evil
intent. It is said that under the palace gates fifty men and women were
buried alive to protect those within the Imperial residence.
This belief in spirits leads to many evils, and the woman’s life is one
of constant fear for herself and for her loved ones. She naturally
consults in time of trouble with those who have a knowledge of spirit
lore, or who have power to control them and make of no avail their wrong
intentions. Consequently Burmah abounds in astrologers, necromancers,
wizards, and witch-doctors, who impose upon the fears of the women to a
marvellous extent. These charlatans vie with the doctors in their
ignorance.
A man of medicine in this land ruled by superstition needs no diploma,
and he administers a mixture of herbs and nasty tasting condiments in
such strong doses that they are bound to cure or kill. Quantity, not
quality, is what the sick Burmese requires; and if after a medicine is
administered five times she is not better, another kind is tried, and if
the desired effect is not produced, another doctor is called, who
perhaps makes a distinctly different diagnosis of the case, and the
dosing is commenced all over again with another set of medicines. It is
well known by all that the body is composed of four elements—earth,
water, fire, and air—and derangement of these four properties may cause
the illness. Before medicine is administered, the horoscope must be
consulted in order to learn the proportions of the elements within the
body, when perhaps it is found that the sickness is caused by an evil
act committed in a former life, or the seasons may be the cause of her
misfortune. It is always a most complicated affair, and perhaps the
doctor finds that the sufferer must refuse all food whose initial letter
begins with the same letter as that of the day of her birth. There are
ninety-six diseases that afflict mankind, and it often takes many
doctors and much medicine to decide with which one of the ninety-six
ailments the woman is contending.
If she should die, it is believed that the soul, in the shape of a black
butterfly, issues from the mouth, and dies at the same time as that of
the body which it inhabited. Although the Buddhists do not believe in
the actuality of the soul as we know it, this black butterfly is the
real spirit of the woman, and is with her constantly except at times of
sleep, when it may leave the earthly body and go roaming over the world.
It can never visit places strange to its owner, as it might lose its way
and not come back again, when both would die—the body because its spirit
was gone, the butterfly because it had lost its earthly home. One reason
why a Burman will not rouse one suddenly from a deep slumber is because
he is afraid that the butterfly might be on a visit and unable to return
to its home upon the man’s awakening, which, of course, would be most
fatal. This roaming spirit takes many chances, as there are goblins and
evil genii who desire nothing better than to eat black butterflies, and
often they become so frightened that they return home in a great panic,
which throws the owner of the soul into a fever. It sometimes happens
that the spirit is kept prisoner, and then the witch doctors are brought
in and many incantations are gone through to induce the evil gnomes to
release their hold upon the poor butterfly before it is too late.
Two souls who deeply love each other often wish to leave the world
together, or a mother dies and wishes her loved one, perhaps her only
child, to join her in the other land, and her spirit calls for her
baby’s butterfly, who will follow that of the mother unless frustrated
by the machinations of some wise woman who understands the way of
spirits. This woman comes to the house, and placing a mirror on the
floor by the dead mother or wife who is calling for her child or
husband, entreats the dead not to demand the soul of the living. As she
pleads with her she allows a piece of down to slip slowly on to the face
of the mirror and catches it in a handkerchief, which is then gently
placed on the breast of the living, and the spirit comes back to its
resting-place.
Superstition dominates the life of the Burmese woman as much as it does
her Indian sister. She believes in love potions and philtres to bring a
longed-for lover to her side. She consults with wise men, who tell her
whether the waning love of husband is caused by the nat or guardian of
the house; or if she is not yet wedded, she finds that the horoscopes of
herself and lover are not propitious and that he is not intended for her
mate. She also uses this man of science to revenge herself upon a hated
rival, and will cause an image to be made of clay, over which are
chanted devilish rituals which will cause death or madness to fall upon
the unsuspecting person.
Not only do the spirits of all worlds influence her, but each act of the
things around her has its meaning. If a hen should lay an egg upon a
cloth, the lucky owner will receive a present; and if she is going on a
journey and a snake should cross her path, her misfortune would be
certain. If a dog should carry a bone into the house, she blesses him,
as great riches and honour will come to all beneath her roof. But she is
hampered in her actions by the number of lucky and unlucky days that
control her destiny. There are days unfortunate for all the world, and
others that apply only to her, when she must act with exceeding care,
and understand the lore of the stars which were in the ascendant at her
birth. Thursday is generally a good day for all, but if a woman was so
foolhardy as to commence a work on Tuesday it might be fatal and she
would lose her life. Friday is the day of days on which to commence a
new enterprise, as success is bound to follow. The hair should be washed
once a month, if possible, but never on Monday, Friday, or Saturday. A
good mother on sending her son into the monastery would see that the
rite of cutting the hair did not fall upon Monday, Friday, or his
birthday, and it limits the choice of days, as this latter event, the
birthday, occurs once a week. There are also a few months especially
unlucky for a woman born under certain stars, and no undertaking should
be commenced in those months. In fact, the Burmese woman is ruled by
signs and omens from her birth to her death, and when the necromancers,
the wizards, the doctors, and the witches are unable longer to keep the
spirit, the little black butterfly, within the body, and she is gathered
to her fathers, rules and traditions govern her laying away to her last
resting-place.
[Illustration:
A BURMESE WOMAN AND HER CIGAR.
To face p. 206.]
In former days the dead were all cremated, but now burying has come into
general use. When death comes to a family it means elaborate
preparations and feasting from the time that the breath has left the
body and the coin is put into the mouth to pay the ferryman for the last
journey over the lonely river, until the seven days of mourning are
over. Yet it is hard to speak of these days as days of mourning, for
music, dancing before the bier, and the feasting in the home would cause
the onlooker at a Burmese funeral to believe that he was witnessing a
wedding-festival instead of a scene of sorrow.
The Burmese, like most Eastern nations, spend far too much upon their
funeral observances; and often a man goes into debt for life to pay for
the extravagances which custom and tradition make necessary to uphold
his standing in the community when the Angel of Death visits his
household.
A new custom, or an old custom made more elaborate, has increased the
cost of living for the hospitable Burman. When invitations are given for
any festivity, the invitation is accompanied by a present, often a silk
handkerchief or a turban, but with the rich this present is growing more
expensive, until it is becoming a burden that is causing many of the
conservative to complain. I was told while in Mandalay that when a
certain gentleman sent out invitations for his daughter’s wedding, he
accompanied each invitation with a gold sovereign, and as he bade more
than two hundred guests to the feast, his entertainment cost him a
goodly sum before the actual expense of the festival took place. This
useless expenditure falls heavily upon the small official who is trying
to live upon his salary, as salaries are not large in Burmah. A
gentleman with a sense of humour was calling upon us, and in the course
of conversation we touched upon the servant question. He asked us what a
Chinese butler received for his services in America. I told him ten
pounds a month. He gasped, and then he laughed and a twinkle came to his
black eyes as he said: “I am an official of the city of Mandalay, and I
receive just that amount. I think I will go to America.”
[Illustration:
BURMESE WORKING WOMAN.
To face p. 208.]
The Burmese woman in her home is allowed much more liberty than any
other Oriental woman. She is her husband’s equal, although she is taught
to look upon man as a superior being; still, that is only theoretical.
In actual life she is one with him in business, his amusements, and in
his religious life. He consults her upon matters of importance, and she
has proved worthy of trust and confidence, because she has a good mind
and has been allowed to use her judgment in matters of business as well
as in her own particular realm—the home. She has domestic troubles with
which to contend, but public opinion is helping her, especially in the
case of polygamy. This destroyer of woman’s happiness is sometimes
practised, but sentiment is against it, and it is a very brave man who
cares to run counter to the general opinion of his village or city in
regard to the number of women he shelters beneath his roof-tree. But if
the Burman may not marry more than one woman at a time, he may divorce
as many wives as he wishes. As the woman also shares in this
prerogative, the law is not so one-sided as it is in Mohammedan
countries. Manu, the ancient law-maker, allowed women to divorce their
husbands if they were too poor to support them; if they were lazy and
would not work; or if they were incapacitated by reason of old age, or
became cripples after marriage. The husband may send his wife away if
she bears him no male children; if she is not loving; or if she is
disobedient. Divorce is purely a personal affair, and the marriage tie
may be dissolved at any time the parties concerned think fit, without
calling in priest or lawyer.
There are very definite provisions in the laws in regard to the property
of the separating couple. In the event of divorce each party takes with
them the property brought by them to the new home, and what they
accumulated since marriage is either divided by mutual agreement or by a
decision of the village elders who sanction the separation.
I am told that divorce is not so common as one would believe,
considering the ease with which it may be obtained. The Burman is a very
easy-going man, the Burmese wife a clever woman who makes it her
business to understand her lord and master, and consequently she
generally rules him. “Burmah is the land of henpecked husbands,” one
Burman told me, “all the world knows our shame”—and then he laughed.
Education is coming more slowly to the Burmese woman than it is to the
Indian or the Egyptian. She has not seen its need, consequently has not
demanded it. But it will come in time, and the intellectual broadening
will free her from the cloud of superstition that now surrounds her and
controls her actions to a great extent.
[Illustration:
GOLDEN PAGODA, MANDALAY.
To face p. 210.]