THE HEAD DANCE
It seems that while the wady party was in progress something occurred
that aroused the ire of one or two of the older women of the kampong.
The visitors who came to partake of the cup that cheers partook of
something else, not on the program, and this occasioned a great deal of
discussion, conducted mainly by the wife of the injured party.
A very fine stone club turned up missing, so to speak, and the family
wealth was thus greatly depleted. While the loss is of moment, the men
are inclined to pass the matter over, but this is not the case with the
women. Things have been going too smoothly of late, and they desire some
real diversion. The feast just held has served but to whet their
appetite for excitement and they demand that the men go to the other
kampong and either secure the stolen club, which took so many weary
hours in the making, or collect other indemnity. At the threat that all
the women will hold themselves aloof until the demand is obeyed, the men
go on what purports to be a friendly visit and actually do return two
days later with the stolen club.
[Illustration: The Dutch officials punish them severely for indulging in
these practices]
[Illustration: The Head Dance. Two girls begin it by slowly walking up
and down in the center of the circle of onlookers]
Our interest is aroused, and Intelligence is questioned as to what would
have happened had the thieving member of the neighboring tribe failed to
return the weapon. In the course of his long-winded reply he tells us
many things of interest.
His description of the fights in which he has taken part, himself, and
the manner in which the Kia Kia warrior goes after “long pig,” is given
so naïvely that it is a pity one cannot repeat it in Intelligence’s
inimitable way.
When pig is scarce and there has been no fresh meat in the kampong for a
long time, he says, the old women begin to whine and complain that the
hunters are no good, and if they are unable to bring in meat after a
long, hard hunting-trip, the women gather in a clearing and make wady.
When the wady is ready the men are called to the clearing and each
receives a small portion, but not enough to make him at all hilarious.
The younger women then gather in the center of the circle of men, who
are sitting cross-legged around the edge of the open space, and dance.
At first the dancing is done quietly, merely to amuse the men, and some
of the younger men beat the drums and sing. The men under the
stimulating influence of the wady join in, singing at the top of their
voices, their bodies swaying to and fro to the time of the music. When
all are singing, the old women, who have been waiting for the party to
reach this stage, bring from the houses all the smoked human heads that
they have on hand, decorated with bird-of-paradise feathers for the
occasion. These they give to the youngest and most comely of the
dancers, although in some cases the old women themselves swing into the
moving throng, and, after marching up and down with measured tread for a
time, finally break into a wild dance, swinging the heads in their
hands.
They screech and scream the praises of their warrior ancestors and
reproach the men present. As the dance goes on they grow hysterical, and
it becomes a frenzied whirl of twisting, contorting women, who swing
around the circle and thrust into the men’s faces the heads they carry,
upbraiding them for their laziness and inability to bring in meat for
their women. They again threaten the men with total exclusion from all
intercourse with themselves and with promises and cajolery seek to rouse
them from their apathy.
Here and there in the circle are a few men who by their tense attitude
and sparkling eyes show the women that their interest is awakened. The
women play up to these and by means of blood-curdling screeches and much
waving of the grisly trophies excite the men to the point where they
leap to their feet and join the dance. Some of them take the heads
themselves and endeavor to stir in their fellows a like spirit of
enthusiasm. One by one the others respond to the appeal, until all are
dancing in a twisting, milling mass of yelling savages. When this point
is reached the old women bring the weapons from the houses and the scene
becomes one of the wildest, most barbaric imaginable. More wady is given
the men, and they gradually muster up enough courage to take to the
war-path.
This does not mean that they go boldly forth to attack their enemies; it
means only that they have decided to have a feast the main attraction of
which will be the bodies of as many victims as they can collect without
undue risk to themselves. The procedure is to bedeck themselves in their
finest fashion and visit a kampong remote from their own. They choose
one which lies on the far side of one or two others with which they
themselves are friendly. When they pass through these kampongs they tell
their neighbors that they are going hunting and in no manner hint at
their real errand.
Upon arrival at the kampong selected for their visit, they stroll in
from the jungle as though tired out from a not very successful
hunting-excursion and, being hospitable, their hosts immediately prepare
food and places for them to rest. Friendships are struck up and two or
three days are loitered away while the lay of the land is being
observed. Two or three victims—who live in shacks remote from the main
houses of the village, as a rule—are selected, and the final plans are
laid. One or two of the visiting tribe strike up a friendship with the
victims and go with them to their shacks at night, ostensibly to gossip
and sleep. A signal is arranged: the cry of a nightbird or a song by one
of their own men, purposely awake and watching with some of his fellows
by the fireside, is the usual indication that all is ready.
When the silence tells those on guard that their hosts are all asleep,
the signal is given; the visitors who are feigning sleep rise cautiously
and, with weapon ready, each suddenly wakens his intended victim.
Aroused from a deep slumber, the poor fellow usually wakes with some
sort of exclamation or cry. At the first word spoken the stone-bitted
war-club descends with terrible finality and the victim lapses into a
slumber from which he never wakens. The deed is done quietly, with every
precaution taken to guard against the awakening of the rest of the
kampong. In many instances several small shacks have been erected for
the convenience of the visitors and the victims are lured into these to
be murdered.
Some of the girls of the place may take a liking to the visitors, in
which case there may be one or two men and a like number of girls in the
shacks of the strangers. The result is the same, and girls are highly
prized, as Intelligence tells us that they are more tender than the men.
In fact, he says that there is no morsel that equals the left
shoulder-blade of a ten- or twelve-year-old girl. Immediately upon
killing their victims, the visitors stealthily remove the bodies from
the kampong, and in the concealing darkness of the jungle decapitate
them. After trussing up the bodies upon bamboo poles for ease in
carrying them, they depart in haste for their own kampong, taking a
circuitous route to avoid other kampongs between them and home.
The head of each victim is the property of him who delivered the fatal
blow, and the murderer struts into his family circle very proud of his
success. While the men were away the women have prepared the
roasting-pit for the bodies that they know will be brought.
The pits in which the bodies are roasted are dug well away from the
kampong as a rule, and are filled with alternate layers of wood and
stones. By the time the wood is all burned away the stones are intensely
hot, and they are kept so with a great fire built over them, until the
warriors return. After all ornaments such as necklaces and bracelets
have been removed, the bodies are placed in the pits without further
preparation, upon bars of ironwood or some similar hardwood which keep
them from actual contact with the red-hot stones, and covered with green
palm-branches and a layer of earth to exclude the air.
When the roasting is completed, the time required being dependent upon
the number of stones in a pit and the age of the victim, the pits are
opened and the bodies eaten. The choicest pieces go to the men who have
done the killing and the rest are divided equally among the remaining
inhabitants of the village. All partake of the feast, from the youngest
infant able to masticate solid food to the oldest member of the tribe.
The dogs come in for their share and as a rule are given the bones to
squabble over, though occasionally some of these are kept to be made
into ornaments.
Intelligence tells us that one _bagoose laki laki_ (good man) will
satisfy the hunger of ten persons, but adds with a smile that it is
better to have enough _babi panjang_ (long pig) so that one body need be
divided among only five or six. All the flesh is consumed at one sitting
and after the feast is over the place is usually cleaned up and the pits
covered carefully with earth and brush to hide the evidence of guilt,
for the feasters are sure that sooner or later they will be visited by
members of other kampongs who are curious to learn whether or not they
know anything of the disappearance of certain people of Kampong Sangase
or Watambi, or whatever the name may be.
[Illustration: Under the influence of the wady, exhilarated by the wild
dance, the men finally take part]
[Illustration: They again threaten the men with total exclusion from all
intercourse with their families]
With the coming of dawn in the kampong the hunting-party visited, there
is weeping and wailing when the absence of the visitors together with
their victims is discovered. The men vow vengeance and make a warlike
showing, and even venture a short distance into the jungle, where they
gather and discuss the situation. They will remain there a while and
upon returning to the kampong they will tell wild tales of how they
chased their visitors many miles but could not overtake them.
The matter, by reason of their cowardice and utter inability to bring
themselves to engage in open warfare, finally passes into the limbo of
forgotten things, although in time some of their bravest may go on a
round of a few kampongs to see if anything can be learned regarding the
tribe responsible for the outrage. If they identify the guilty tribe,
they may lie in ambush for some lone member hunting in the neighborhood
of his own kampong and murder him. This is the most common course
followed in reprisal. In fact, a large percentage of the cannibal feasts
are thus inspired.
Absorbed in the chase of wild pig or other game, the hunter often enters
the preserves of another tribe, and if he is discovered he more often
than not disappears. It is for this reason that the men hunt only when
driven to it by the women or when game is plentiful within reasonable
distance of their own village.
We ask Intelligence the reason for waking the victim up before killing
him rather than simply striking him while asleep. For a moment he
ponders, for putting things so that we can understand him taxes his
powers of narration. He finally makes us understand that the purpose is
to obtain a name for the next male child born in the hunting-party’s
kampong, for the first word spoken is bestowed on the infant.
Intelligence himself was named in that manner, he tells us. His Kia Kia
name is Geki. He promises to show us the skull of the unfortunate man
who supplied it. Probably the “namee” falls heir to the skull of the man
responsible for the christening, though this is only conjecture on our
part.