CHAPTER III

RELIGIOUS AND MAGICAL BELIEFS

The Andaman Islanders believe in the existence of a class of

supernatural beings which I propose to denote by the term “spirits.”

The native name for these spirits is lau, lao or yau in the languages

of the North and Middle Andaman, and čauga in the South Andaman. While

all spirits are denoted together by the term lau or čauga, there are

certain special classes of spirits. There are, for instance, spirits

that haunt the jungles of the islands. These are called in the North

Andaman Ti-miku Lau, from the word ti-miku meaning the forest, or more

accurately “land.” (The only land known to the Andamanese is covered

with forest.) In Aka-Bea the name for these jungle spirits is E̱rem

Čauga, the word e̱rem being the equivalent in that language of the

Northern ti-miku. In the North Andaman the Ti-miku Lau are often called

Bido Teč Lau, i.e., spirits of the Calamus leaf, bido being the name of

the Calamus tigrinus. This cane is armed with strong thorns, and in

some parts of the jungle forms absolutely impenetrable thickets. The

natives say that the spirits haunt these thickets, and hence their

name.

There are other spirits that live in the sea. Although these may be

included under the term Lau or Čauga, when it is used in a general

sense, yet there is a special name for the sea spirits, J̌urua in the

North Andaman, and J̌uruwin in Aka-Bea. The J̌urua are beings of the same

nature as the Ti-miku Lau, with the difference that they live in the

sea, while the latter live in the forest.

In the South Andaman the natives also speak of another class of spirits

who live in the sky and are called Mo̱rua or Mo̱rowin.

When an Andamanese man or woman dies he or she becomes a spirit, i.e.,

a Lau or Čauga. The bones of a dead person, which are dug up after the

flesh has decayed, are called Lau to̱i in the North Andaman, to̱i being

the word for “bone.” The skull is Lau t’e̱r-čo, from the word e̱r-čo

meaning “head.” Exactly similar terms are in use in Aka-Bea, the bones

of a dead man being called Čauga ta (spirit bones).

The Andamanese relate legends, to be described in the next chapter,

which concern the doings of mythical ancestors. As all Andamanese, when

they die, become Lau, these ancestors are of course included under that

term. They are often distinguished from the spirits of persons recently

dead by being denoted as Lau t’e̱r-kuro, from the word e̱r-kuro meaning

“big,” and applied to human beings to denote importance of social

position. Just as a man who occupies a prominent position in his tribe

is called a “big” man (e̱r-kuro), so the ancestors of the Andamanese

legends are called “big” spirits. The Aka-Bea use a similar term, Čauga

tabaŋa, to distinguish the ancestors from the spirits of ordinary

persons.

The name Lau or Čauga is also applied by the Andamanese to the natives

of India and Burma whom they see in the Penal Settlement of Port Blair.

The Aka-J̌eru name for the Penal Settlement is Lau-t’ara-nyu, literally

“the village of the spirits.” At the present time the term Lau or Čauga

is not applied to Europeans, who are generally spoken of in the North

Andaman by the Hindustani word “sahib.” Natives of the North Andaman

told me that in former times (before 1875) they applied the term Lau to

Europeans also not distinguishing them from other light-skinned aliens.

The necessity for distinguishing between Asiatics, such as natives of

India, and Europeans, has only arisen since they have come to have

dealings with the Penal Settlement.

The term Lau is not applied by the Andamanese to aliens of their own

race. Nor would it be applied, I believe, to men of other black races

such as the African negro. I showed the natives photographs of Semang

from the Malay Peninsula and also of natives of Africa and New Guinea,

and in all cases they called them J̌a̤rawa, that being the term applied

by the Great Andaman tribes to the natives of the Little Andaman. On

the other hand they called Polynesians Lau.

For many centuries the Andaman Islanders have been accustomed to see

light-skinned men visit their shores in ships, Europeans, natives from

the coasts of India, Burma and Malaya, and occasionally perhaps

Chinese. To these aliens they gave the name of Lau, apparently

regarding them as visitors from the only other world they knew of, the

world of spirits [69]. The clothes that these “spirits” wore they

called Lau ot-ǰulu, the word ot-ǰulu meaning “cold.”

The spirits of the forest and the sea are believed to be generally

invisible, but there are tales of men and women who have seen them, and

their personal appearance is sometimes described. The descriptions vary

considerably from one informant to another. One of the commonest

statements is that they are light or white skinned. (The Andamanese

vocabulary does not allow of any distinction between white and a light

gray or a light shade of colour.) One man, however, said that the

forest spirits are black (or dark), while the sea spirits are white (or

light). I was told several times that the spirits have long hair and

beards (the Andamanese having, as a rule, no beard, and their hair,

being frizzy, never growing to any length). Their arms and legs are

said to be abnormally long, while they have only small bodies. Though

there is no uniformity in the way in which the natives describe the

spirits of the jungle and the sea, there is a notable tendency to

associate them with the grotesque, the ugly, and the fearful. There is

a common belief that the spirits, both of the jungle and of the sea,

carry about with them lights, which several men and women claim to have

seen.

In reply to the question as to how the spirits of the forest and the

sea originated, the natives all agree in saying that they are the

spirits of dead men and women.

The jungle spirits live in a village (or villages) in the forest. There

is a belief that mortals wandering by themselves in the jungle have

been captured by the spirits. Should the captive show any fear, my

informants said, the spirits would kill him, but if he were brave they

would take him to their village, detaining him for a time, and then

releasing him to return to his friends. A man to whom such an adventure

has happened will be endowed for the rest of his life with power to

perform magic. He will pay occasional visits to his friends the

spirits. The natives told me of one such man who died not many years

ago. At irregular intervals he used to wander off into the jungle by

himself and remain absent for a few hours, sometimes for a day or two.

He returned to the village after such an absence looking strange and

wearing ornaments of shredded palm-leaf (koro) which he claimed had

been placed upon him by the spirits.

Save for persons who have made friends with them, and have thereby

become endowed with magical powers, all contact with the spirits of the

jungle and the sea, or with the spirit of a dead man, is dangerous. The

spirits are believed to be the cause of all sickness and of all deaths

resulting from sickness. As a man wanders in the jungle or by the sea,

the spirits come invisibly and strike him, whereupon he falls ill, and

may die. A man or woman is more likely to be attacked by the spirits if

he or she is alone, and it is therefore always better to be in company

when away from the village. The spirits rarely venture into the village

itself, though they may prowl round it, particularly at night. They are

more dangerous at night than during the day.

There are many objects that are believed to have the power of keeping

spirits at a distance, and thus of preserving human beings from the

danger of sickness. Amongst the most important of these are fire,

arrows, human bones, bees’-wax, and red paint. A man or a woman leaving

a hut to go only a few yards at night will always carry a fire-brand as

a protection against spirits that may be prowling in the neighbourhood.

If the night be dark a torch is carried in addition to the fire-stick.

The Andamanese will never whistle at night, as they believe that the

noise of whistling would attract spirits. On the other hand they

believe that singing will keep the spirits away.

The spirits that haunt the woods and waters of a man’s own home are

regarded as being less dangerous to him than those of a country in

which he is a stranger. A man of the Aka-Čari tribe who was with me in

Rutland Island had a cold on his chest. He asked me for permission to

return to his own country, explaining that the spirits of Rutland

Island were, so to speak, at enmity with him, and that if he stayed

longer he would be seriously ill, and perhaps die, while on the other

hand, the spirits of his own country were friendly towards him, and

once he was amongst them he would quickly recover.

There is a belief that the spirits feed on the flesh of dead men and

women. The jungle spirits eat those who are buried on land, and the

J̌urua devour those who are drowned or otherwise lost in the sea.

Mr Man’s account of the spirits of the jungle and sea contains an

important error, which needs to be pointed out. He writes as though

there were only one E̱rem Čauga (jungle spirit) and only one J̌uruwin

(sea spirit), whereas each of these names is the name not of a single

individual but of a class of supernatural beings of which there is an

indefinite number. The following is Mr Man’s account:—E̱rem-čauga-la,

the “evil spirit of the woods, has a numerous progeny by his wife Čana

Badgi-lola, who remains at home with her daughters and younger

children, while her husband and grown up sons roam about the jungles

with a lighted torch attached to their left legs, in order that the

former may injure any unhappy wights who may meet them unprotected, and

in the dark; he generally makes his victims ill, or kills them by

wounding them internally with invisible arrows, and if he is successful

in causing death, it is supposed that they feast upon the raw flesh.”

“As regards J̌uruwin, the evil spirit of the sea, they say that he too

is invisible, and lives in the sea with his wife and children, who help

him to devour the bodies of those who are drowned or buried at sea;

fish constitute the staple of his food, but he also occasionally, by

way of variety, attacks the aborigines he finds fishing on the shores

or by the creeks. The weapon he uses is a spear, and persons who are

seized with cramp or any sudden illness, on returning from, or while on

the water are said to have been ‘speared’ by J̌uruwin. He has various

submarine residences, and boats for travelling under the surface of the

sea, while he carries with him a net, in which he places all the

victims, human or piscine, he may succeed in capturing [70].”

Mr Portman correctly translates the word J̌uruwin as meaning “the

spirits of the sea” using the plural and not the singular [71].

Further references to the Andamanese beliefs about the spirits will be

found later in the chapter. It is necessary at this point to consider

an entirely different class of beings.

The Andaman Islanders personify the phenomena of nature with which they

are acquainted, such as the sun and the moon. Before relating in detail

what could be learnt about their beliefs on these matters, it is

necessary to call attention to one feature of these beliefs. Different

statements, not only of different informants, but even of the same

informant, are often quite contradictory. For example, it is sometimes

said that lightning is a person, and at other times it is said that

lightning is a fire-brand thrown across the sky by a mythical being

named Biliku. These two statements, which to all logical thinking are

incompatible, are both given, and apparently both equally believed, by

the same person. Many examples of such contradictions will be found in

what follows, and it is important to point out their existence

beforehand.

About the sun and moon, the most usual statement in all the tribes is

that the sun is the wife of the moon and the stars are their children.

In the North Andaman the moon is Maia Dula (Aka-Čari) or Maia Čirikli

(Aka-J̌eru), the sun is Mimi Diu and their children the stars are Čatlo,

the larger ones, and Katań the smaller. Čatlo is the name of a species

of finely marked beetle, and katań is the name of the common fire-fly.

Individual stars or constellations are not recognized.

Another version from the same tribes is that the moon (Dula) is female,

and has a husband named Maia Tok, while the sun (Diu or To̱rodiu) is

male.

In the Aka-J̌eru tribe there is a belief that the moon (Maia Čirikli)

can, when he wishes, turn himself into a pig, and come down to earth

and feed on the things that the pigs eat. There is a legend that on one

occasion the moon thus turned himself into a pig and came down to earth

to eat the čuei fruit. A man named Maia Čoinyop met the moon (in the

form of a pig) in the forest, and shot him with an arrow. Čirikli (the

moon) took out his knife and killed the unfortunate Čoinyop, cutting

off his head, which he left behind, and taking the body up to the sky

where he ate it.

In the A-Pučikwar tribe the most common statement is that the moon

(Puki) is male and that the sun (Puto) is his wife. A different

statement from the same tribe is that the moon is female and is the

wife of a being named Tomo. Tomo seems to be to some extent identified

with the sun. Thus one informant said that it is Tomo who sends the

fine weather, and that it is he who sends the daylight every day. Where

Tomo lives, in the sky, it is always day and is always fine. When the

natives die their spirits go up to the sky and live with Tomo. We shall

see in the next chapter that, according to some of the legends, Tomo is

the first ancestor of the Andamanese.

Yet another version is that the moon was made by Tomo out of opalescent

stone, and it is Tomo who, in some way, regulates its passage across

the sky.

A belief about the moon which is found in all the tribes, both of the

North and the South, is that he will be very angry if there is any

fire, or any bright light, visible when he rises in the evening shortly

after sundown. At such times the natives are careful to cover up their

fires so that they only smoulder without flame. Mr Man refers to this

custom. “From fear of displeasing Maia Ogar (Mr Moon), during the first

few evenings of the third quarter, when he rises after sundown, they

preserve silence, cease from any work on which they may be engaged—even

halting should they be travelling—and almost extinguishing any light or

fire that may be burning. This is owing to the belief that he is

jealous of attention being distracted to other objects than himself at

such a time, or of any other light being employed than that which he

had been graciously pleased to afford so abundantly. By the time the

moon has ascended a few degrees, however, they restore their fires and

resume their former occupations, as they consider that they have

sufficiently complied with Maia Ogar’s wishes and requirements. The

glowing aspect of the full moon on its first appearance above the

horizon is supposed to indicate that Maia Ogar is enraged at finding

some persons neglecting to observe these conciliatory measures; there

is also an idea that, if he be greatly annoyed, he will punish them by

withdrawing or diminishing the light of his countenance [72].”

As regards the waxing and waning of the moon, Mr Man says that these

are explained by the Aka-Bea “by saying that they are occasioned by

‘his’ applying a coating of cloud to his person by degrees, after the

manner of their own use of ko̱iob (red paint) and tala-o̱g (white clay)

and then gradually wiping it off [73].” In the Aka-Kede tribe the

natives say that as Maia Čirike (Sir Moon) goes across the sky, his

tongue hangs out of his mouth, sometimes more, sometimes less, and that

it is the tongue that is visible, that gives the light. I did not hear

any explanation of the waxing and waning of the moon in the tribes of

the North Andaman. In these tribes the new moon is called Dula e-tire,

i.e. the “baby moon,” the word e-tire denoting the young offspring of

an animal or a human being.

With regard to a lunar eclipse Mr Man writes that “in case Maia Ogar

should be so ill-advised as permanently to withhold his light or render

himself in other ways still more disagreeable, whenever the moon is

eclipsed some persons at once seize their bows and twang them as

rapidly as possible, thereby producing a rattling sound as if

discharging a large number of arrows, while others commence at once

sharpening their rata (arrows). Of course this hostile demonstration is

never lost upon the moon, who does not venture to hurt those who show

themselves ready to give him so uncomfortable a reception. Their

immunity from harm on these occasions has given rise to some joking at

the expense of the luminary in question, for, during the continuance of

the eclipse, they shout in inviting tones to the hidden orb as

follows:—Ogar, laden balak ban lebe ŋ’idoati! doati! doati! (O Moon, I

will give you the seed of the balak! show yourself! appear! appear!)

This is said derisively, for, although these seeds are largely consumed

by the pigs, the aborigines do not consider them fit for food [74].”

It may be noted that the invitation to the moon to eat balak seeds is

not perhaps derisive, but may be connected with the belief that the

moon can turn himself into a pig in order to feed on the things that

pigs eat.

There was no eclipse of the moon during my stay in the islands. The

natives of the North Andaman told me that on such an occasion they

frighten the moon into showing himself again by lighting the end of a

bamboo arrow-shaft, and shooting it from a bow in the direction of the

moon. Another custom of which they told me is to take plumes of

shredded Tetranthera wood (čelmo or uǰ) and blow on them towards the

moon.

Mr Man states that “a solar eclipse alarms them too much to allow of

their indulging in jests or threats, &c.: during the time it lasts they

all remain silent and motionless, as if in momentary expectation of

some calamity [75].”

There are several different accounts in the North Andaman of the

phenomena of day and night. The night is often personified and is

called Mimi Bat (Lady Night). One version is that it is she who makes

the night while Maia To̱rodiu makes the day. Diu is the name of the sun,

and to̱ro-diu really means “the full sun” and refers to the middle part

of the day when the sun is well up in the sky.

Another Northern version is that the daylight is made by a being named

Tauto̱bitatmo̱ who lives in the sky. He shuts up the day under a stone

every evening and lets it out every morning. Of Tauto̱bitatmo̱ I was told

that he is sometimes to be seen in the evening sky, but I was not able

to discover to what natural phenomenon reference was made. I was also

unable to discover the meaning of the name, which is a compound, tau

being the sky.

Still another version from the same tribes is that it is a being named

Maia Čara who makes the daylight. Čara seems to be the equivalent of

the Tomo of the A-Pučikwar and other Southern tribes. He is sometimes

said to have been the first ancestor, and sometimes the creator, of the

Andamanese. He lives in the sky.

Another belief about the night connects it with the spirits. The Lau

(spirits) in the sky, wrap up the night in a cloth or mat. When they

unroll the cloth it becomes dark. The natives of the North Andaman

formerly called cloth lau-ot-ǰulu, from a stem -ǰulu meaning “cold.”

They were only acquainted with cloth through seeing it used by the

aliens who visited their shores, and whom they called spirits (Lau).

In the North Andaman thunder and lightning are commonly personified.

The lightning is Ele or Ali, and the thunder is Korude or Korule. Some

of the natives spoke of Mimi Ele (female) and others of Maia Ele

(male). He lives in the sky, which is regarded as being made of stone

(or rock) and is called tau-meo (the sky-stone). The lightning is due

to his shaking his foot. One rather obscure statement was to the effect

that Ele spends most of his time asleep or lying down and doing

nothing. When the weather gets bad Lato (a being that I could not

identify), comes and worries Ele and wakes him up. Then Ele gets angry

and shakes his leg. This is the lightning.

Thunder (Korude) also lives in the sky. It is said that he makes the

thunder by means of a large round stone. One account is that he rolls

the stone about over the sky. Another is that he makes the stone hot,

and this produces the thunder.

An entirely different explanation of thunder and lightning, which is

found in all the tribes, is that they are made by two beings named

Tarai and Biliku, to be described later on in this chapter.

I never heard the rain (ǰiče̱r) spoken of as a person in the same way as

thunder and lightning. One explanation of rain is that the sky-stone

(tau-meo) gets cold, and this turns the mist (milite) into rain.

Another is that in the sky there is a large hollow or pool, which gets

filled with water and then overflows. Still another version is that the

rain is made by a being (or beings) named Čaitoŋ, who seems to be

female and lives in the sky. I could not obtain any satisfactory

information about her.

In all parts of the islands the rainbow is believed to have some

connection with the spirits of the jungle or of the sea. One very

common statement is that it is a bridge of cane that stretches between

this world and the world of departed spirits. It is along the rainbow

that the spirits travel when they visit the earth. It is necessary to

correct a statement by Mr Portman on this matter. In connection with

the Aka-Bea word for the rainbow, pidga-l’ar-čauga, he says “The root

pidga (a rainbow) must not be confounded with the root pidga ‘a cane’

or ‘rattan.’ The Andamanese have certain legends regarding the uses of

the rainbow, and these have been hitherto understood as referring to

‘canes.’ Pidga-l’ar-čauga means ‘the rainbow (bridge) by which the

spirits (cross)’ [76].” Mr Portman is in error. The word pidga means

“cane” and the whole word means “the cane of the spirits.” It is the

whole word that is the name of the rainbow, and not the word pidga. An

exactly similar compound name for the rainbow exists in each of the

languages of the Great Andaman. The name of the particular species of

large cane varies, being pidga in Aka-Bea, peta in A-Pučikwar, pir in

Aka-J̌eru, and so on. Apart from the fact that the natives themselves

say that the rainbow is a “cane,” Mr Portman would have us believe that

in each of the different languages there are two exactly similar words,

different in the different languages, one of which means “cane” and the

other “rainbow,” while there is no connection between the words. Thus

Aka-Bea would have pidga meaning “a kind of cane” and pidga meaning “a

rainbow.” Aka-J̌eru would have pir meaning “cane” and pir meaning

“rainbow.”

The rainbow is generally regarded as an evil omen, being believed to be

a precursor of sickness. One Aka-J̌eru statement is that it is made by a

being called To̱lito̱ŋ and that when it appears somebody will be ill.

The only explanation of the tides that I heard was to the effect that

they are caused by a fish, a species of Tetrodon, called čolmo in

Aka-J̌eru and pit in Aka-Kede, which drinks up the water and then lets

it out again.

The Andaman Islands are occasionally visited by earthquakes. An

Aka-Kede account of how earthquakes are caused is that when a man dies

he goes to the spirit world which is beneath the earth. The spirits

hold a ceremony. My informant spoke of the ceremony as Kimil, which is

the name of the initiation ceremonies. At this ceremony they have a

dance similar to the peace-making dance described in the last chapter,

but instead of erecting a screen such as is used in that ceremony, they

make use of the rainbow. As they shake the rainbow in dancing this

causes earthquakes. The ceremony which newly-arrived spirits have to

undergo in the world after death is a po̱ro̱to kimil, i.e., the initiate

eats po̱ro̱to (Caryota sobolifera).

Among the most important of the Andamanese beliefs are those relating

to the weather and the seasons. These are under the control of two

beings named Biliku, Bilik or Puluga, and Tarai, Teriya, or Daria.

There are a certain number of points in which the statements of one

informant may differ from those of another in connection with these two

mythical beings, but there are also a certain number of points on which

there is absolute unanimity in all the tribes of the Great Andaman.

The first belief in which there is entire unanimity is that of the

connection of Biliku and Tarai with the two chief winds that are known

in the Andamans. Biliku lives in the north-east and is connected with

the north-east monsoon. Tarai lives in the south-west and is connected

with the south-west monsoon. The connection is shown in the names of

these winds, which are as follows:—

Language N.E. Wind S.W. Wind

Aka-Cari, Aka-Bo, Aka-Kora, Aka-Jeru Biliku boto Tarai boto

Oko-Juwoi, Aka-Kol and A-Pucikwar Bilik to Teriya

Akar-Bale Puluga toa Daria

Aka-Bea Puluga ta Deria

In the Northern tribes the word bo̱to means “wind.” Biliku bo̱to must be

translated “the Biliku wind,” and Tarai bo̱to is similarly “the Tarai

wind.” It would be incorrect to translate the name Biliku bo̱to as “the

wind of Biliku,” for this would be rendered in Aka-J̌eru by Biliku ičo

bo̱to. In A-Pučikwar the south-west wind is called Teriya simply, the

name of the mythical being connected with the wind being used as the

name of the wind itself, just as is the case with the name Ele

(lightning). On the other hand the north-east wind is called not Bilik

but Bilik to̱. The same thing occurs also in the Akar-Bale and Aka-Bea

languages.

Mr Portman translates the Aka-Bea term Puluga ta as “God’s wind,” and

he adds, in explanation, “Puluga ta means ‘God’s wind,’ and the reason

for the name is not known. Some vague ideas regarding the direction of

God’s dwelling in the sky are the probable origin of the term [77].” As

regards the translation of the Andamanese name Puluga by the English

“God” more will be said later. Leaving that aside, it is important to

note that Puluga ta does not mean “Puluga’s wind.” The word for wind in

Aka-Bea is given by Mr Portman himself as wul-ŋa, and the Akar-Bale and

A-Pučikwar equivalents are poat-ŋa and po̱te, being forms of the same

stem as the Northern bo̱to. The translation of “Puluga’s wind” in

A-Pučikwar would be Bilik l’iye po̱te, but this is not a phrase that the

natives ever use. It is not possible to translate “Puluga’s wind”

accurately in Akar-Bale. Puluga poat-ŋa would mean “Puluga blowing” the

-ŋa being a verbal ending. In any case Bilik to̱, and Puluga toa are not

to be translated as meaning “Puluga’s wind.”

It may be observed, in reference to Mr Portman’s statement, that the

notions of the Andamanese as to the direction of the dwelling of Puluga

in the sky are very far from vague. The natives all agree that Puluga

or Biliku lives in the direction from which the north-east wind blows,

really N.N.E. This is shown in geographical names. For example the side

of Havelock Island that faces north-east is called Puluga-l’ar-mugu,

meaning “the side that faces Puluga,” from ar-mugu meaning “front” or

“face.”

There are two matters, then, on which there is absolute unanimity in

all the tribes of the Great Andaman, one being the connection of Biliku

(or Puluga) with the north-east and of Tarai (or Deria) with the

south-west, and the other being the connection of these two beings with

the winds that blow from these two opposite points of the compass.

The connection of these two beings with winds is shown in another way

in the A-Pučikwar tribe, where the winds are divided into two

divisions. One division contains only the south-west wind, which is of

extreme regularity, and blows steadily for about five months in every

year. This wind is called Teriya. The other division contains all the

other winds, and they are collectively denoted by the term Bilik. They

are distinguished by names, as J̌ila Bilik (the east Bilik, from ǰila,

east), Ko̱ico Bilik (the west Bilik), Me̱tepur Bilik, Čo̱liatum Bilik,

Rartear Bilik, and Ko̱ičor-to̱ŋ Bilik. Here we find the name Bilik used

not as the name of a single person, but as a common name for a class of

beings who are the winds personified. The same use of the term is found

also in the Aka-Ko̱l tribe.

Even in the Akar-Bale tribe something of the same kind is found. One

Akar-Bale man said that Puluga has two brothers, J̌ila Puluga (East

Puluga) and Koaičo Puluga (West Puluga); the one sends all the easterly

winds and the other all the westerly ones.

In the Andamans the year is divided into two nearly equal portions.

During the season of the south-west monsoon, which lasts from May to

September, the wind blows steadily from the south-west. This is the

rainy season. Violent storms never or only very rarely occur during the

season of the south-west wind. From December to March the wind blows

mostly from the N.N.E., occasionally changing to E.N.E. or N.E. In the

periods at the change of the monsoon (from N.E. to S.W. in April and

May, and from S.W. to N.E. in October and November) the wind is

variable, and may blow at times from E.S.E. or W.N.W.

The south-west wind (properly speaking W.S.W.) is identified, as we

have seen with Tarai (Deria). Although Biliku (Puluga) is specially

connected with the north-east wind, yet all the winds other than the

south-west are commonly supposed to be sent by Biliku. Thus we have

seen that in the A-Pučikwar tribe the different winds are named, each

of them (with the exception of the south-west) being a Bilik.

It comes about, in this way, that the year is divided into two

portions, one of which is specially connected with Biliku (Puluga),

while the other is specially connected with Tarai (Deria). These two

seasons are not quite of equal length. The Tarai season lasts only

while the south-west monsoon is blowing, which, in an average year, is

between four and five months. The other seven months are connected with

Biliku and are divided into three portions, (1) the stormy season of

October and November, (2) the cold season of December to February, and

(3) the hot season of March and April.

There are many points relating to Biliku and Tarai about which there is

no general agreement amongst the tribes, or, in some cases, even within

the same tribe. In the North Andaman Biliku is regarded as female, and

is called Mimi Biliku, while Tarai is male and is called Maia Tarai.

This is so in all the four tribes, Aka-Čari, Aka-Bo, Aka-Ko̱ra and

Aka-J̌eru. A statement that is frequently made by the natives of these

tribes is that Tarai and Biliku are husband and wife. While this is the

most common statement, there are, however, other versions of the

matter. In order to show the lack of uniformity in statements about

Biliku and Tarai in the Northern tribes I reproduce a few extracts from

my note-books written down exactly as they were given to me.

(1) Biliku is the wife of Tarai and they have a child named Perǰido.

(This statement was made to me a great many times in the North Andaman,

and may be regarded as the most usual form of the belief.)

(2) Biliku is the wife of Tarai. Their children are the sun and moon.

(Heard only once.)

(3) The husband of Biliku is Perǰido and her children are Totaimo, Mite

(cicada) and Tarai.

(4) Biliku is unmarried, but she has a son Perǰido, and her other

children are To̱ro̱i, Čelene, Čoto̱t, and Čerei. These four are the names

of birds.

(5) Biliku is the wife of Tarai. Their children are To̱ro̱i, Taka, Čoto̱t,

Poruato̱ko, Kelil, Co̱pcura, Benye, Biratkoro, Čereo, Milidu, Bobelo,

Ko̱lo. These are all names of birds.

(6) Biliku has a husband To̱ro̱i (a bird). Tarai has a wife Kelil (a

bird).

In the Aka-Kede tribe the most common statement, at any rate in the

northern part of the tribe, is that Bilika is female, and that Tarai is

male. One Aka-Kede man, from the southern part of the tribe said that

Bilika was male.

In the Aka-Ko̱l and A-Pučikwar tribes Bilik is generally spoken of as

being male, and Teriya is also male. Other versions from these tribes

are as follows:—

(1) Bilik is female and Teriya is her husband. Their children are the

winds, Čoliatum Bilik, Me̱tepur Bilik, and Wo̱ičo-l’arpat Bilik.

(2) There is a male Bilik and a female Bilik, who are husband and wife.

Their children are Ko̱ičo̱r-to̱ŋ Bilik, Ko̱ičo Bilik, Jila Bilik, Me̱tepur

Bilik, Rartear Bilik, and Teriya. These are the winds.

(3) Bilik is male. His wife is In Čaria, and their children are Kao

(prawn) and Mo̱rua (the sky).

In the Akar-Bale tribe the most usual statement is that both Puluga and

Daria are male, and this was apparently also the common belief of the

Aka-Bea.

In the North Andaman the name Biliku is also the word for “spider,” but

no meaning (save as the name of the mythical being) was discovered for

the name Tarai. In the South and Middle Andaman no meaning was

discovered, either for the name Bilik or Puluga, or for the name Teriya

or Deria. Although this book does not deal with the Little Andaman, it

is worth while to mention that there also the natives believe in a

mythical person who lives in the north-east and sends the storms. This

being is female and is named Öluga. The monitor lizard is also called

öluga in the language of the Little Andaman. It is obvious, however,

that the names Biliku, Puluga, Öluga are all of them different forms of

the same word.

As we have already seen, it is Biliku and Tarai who send the winds.

Tarai sends the south-west wind, which brings the rain. Biliku sends

the other winds which bring either fine weather, or, at times, violent

storms. One Akar-Bale account of the matter (literally translated as

told to me) is as follows. “Once upon a time Puluga and Daria were

great friends, but they quarrelled. Puluga said that he was the bigger

(more important). Daria said that he was. So now they are always

quarrelling. Puluga sends the wind for one period. Then Daria sends his

wind.”

According to the statement of an Akar-Bale man, Puluga makes the wind

by fanning with a very large kwar-toŋ leaf.

Rain and thunder and lightning that come with the south-west wind are

believed to be due to Tarai. Storms that come during the season

connected with Biliku are made by Biliku and are due to her anger. When

a big storm comes the natives say “Biliku is angry.” Lightning is

explained as being a fire-brand thrown by Biliku across the sky when

she is angry, and thunder is said to be her voice growling. Another

explanation of lightning is that it is a pearl-shell, called be in the

North Andaman, thrown by Biliku, the bright flash of the

mother-of-pearl being seen as it crosses the sky. Still another

statement from the North Andaman is that Biliku makes the lightning by

striking a pearl-shell (be) against a stone.

Although Biliku is generally mentioned when a native is asked about

lightning, yet Tarai also wields the lightning and the thunder. On one

occasion when I was talking to a native I referred to the thunder and

lightning that were at the moment coming up from the south-west, making

a remark to the effect that Biliku was getting angry about something,

and was corrected by him with “No, that is Tarai.”

There are a certain number of actions that are believed by the natives

to arouse the anger of Biliku (Puluga), and thereby cause storms. There

are three of these that are of importance.

(1) Burning or melting bees’-wax.

(2) Killing a cicada, or making a noise, particularly a noise of

cutting or banging wood, during the time that the cicada is “singing”

in the morning and evening.

(3) The use of certain articles of food, of which the chief are the

seeds of the Entada scandens, the pith of the Caryota sobolifera, two

species of Dioscorea (yam), and certain edible roots, of which may be

mentioned those called in Aka-J̌eru, labo, mikulu, ǰi and lo̱ito.

In this matter there is an entire unanimity of belief in all the tribes

of the Great Andaman. All the natives agree in saying that any of these

three actions causes the anger of Biliku or Puluga and so brings bad

weather.

The natives do, as a matter of fact, melt all the bees’-wax they

obtain, in order to purify it, and render it suitable for use in the

various ways in which they employ it. Also they do make use of all the

plants mentioned under (3) whenever they are in season. They give

various explanations of this variance between their precepts and their

actions. Some of my informants said that though these actions may bring

rain and storms, yet they would rather submit to the bad weather than

go without some of their most prized vegetable foods. Others again say

that there is always a chance that Biliku may not notice that the

plants have been disturbed, particularly if no fragments are left lying

about the camp, and if, when taking the roots, the creepers are not

disturbed. Another statement is that it is really only during the

season of storms, called the Kimil season in Aka-J̌eru, that it is

dangerous to eat these foods, that is, during the months of October and

November. After this season has passed there is no longer any danger of

violent storms and the foods in question may be freely eaten.

Nevertheless the natives do eat these foods in the months of October

and November.

Mr Man records the native beliefs about bees’-wax and the plants in

question. “There is an idea current that if during the first half of

the rainy season they eat the Caryota sobolifera, or pluck or eat the

seeds of the Entada pursœtha, or gather yams or other edible roots,

another deluge would be the consequence, for Puluga is supposed to

require these for his own consumption at that period of the year; the

restriction, however does not extend to the fallen seeds of the Entada

pursœtha, which may be collected and eaten at any time with impunity.

Another of the offences visited by Puluga with storms is the burning of

bee’s wax, the smell of which is said to be peculiarly obnoxious to

him. Owing to this belief it is a common practice secretly to burn wax

when a person against whom they bear ill-will is engaged in fishing,

hunting, or the like, the object being to spoil his sport and cause him

as much discomfort as possible; hence arises the saying amongst them,

when suddenly overtaken by a storm, that some one must be burning wax

[78].”

It must be noted that it is not only the “burning,” but also the

melting of bees’-wax that angers Puluga. As regards the plants

mentioned by Mr Man none of these is available for food during the

early part of the rainy season. At that time the yams are not formed,

the pith of the Caryota palm is not ripe and is uneatable, and the only

available seeds of the Entada would be those of the last season that

had not fallen from the pods or that had lain on the ground without

having germinated. Thus the prohibition as stated by Mr Man amounts to

nothing. The subject will be discussed in a later chapter. It may be

remarked, however, that it is a fact easily to be observed that the

natives do regard the gathering of these vegetable foods during the

later portion of the rainy season and during the first part of the cool

season (i.e. from October to December), as being an action that may

offend Biliku. I was myself able to observe this on several occasions,

as when once, at the very end of the rainy season, I, not then knowing

the belief, asked a native to cut for me one of the pods of the Entada

as a botanical specimen, whereupon the native, after fulfilling my

request, explained to me that there would probably be a storm next day

as the result of our action.

In all the tribes of the Great Andaman I found a belief that Biliku or

Puluga will be angry if anybody makes a noise, particularly a noise of

chopping, breaking or banging wood, during the time the cicada is

singing. The cicada “sings” as the natives call it, during the short

interval between dawn and sunrise, and during that between sunset and

darkness. It is at these times that no noise may be made. The

Andamanese do observe this custom, and refrain from making any noise at

such times. For instance, if a man were singing, he would cease until

the cicada were silent again. In all the tribes I found that this

prohibition was connected in the minds of the natives with Puluga, the

reason of the custom being always explained to me by saying that any

breach of it would infallibly bring bad weather. In the North Andaman

the cicada (mite) is commonly spoken of as the “child” of Biliku,

Biliku ot-tire.

Mr Man refers to this custom. In one place he says that the first

parents of the Andamanese were told by Puluga “that, though they were

to work in the wet months, they must not do so after sundown, because

by doing so they would worry the butu, which are under Puluga’s special

protection. Any noise, such as working (kopke) with an adze, would

cause the butu’s head to ache, and that would be a serious matter.

During the cold and dry seasons work may be carried on day and night,

as the butu is then seldom seen, and cannot be disturbed [79].”

The butu here mentioned is the cicada. The prohibition is not, however,

as Mr Man says, against working, but against making a noise. Nor does

the prohibition against noise extend to the whole night, but only to

the short interval between sunset and darkness, for it is during this

interval that the cicada is singing. As soon as the cicada is silent

you may make as much noise as you please.

Another reference by Mr Man to the same custom is as follows: “Between

dawn and sunrise they will do no work, save what is noiseless, lest the

sun should be offended and cause an eclipse, storm, or other misfortune

to overtake them. If, therefore, they have occasion to start on a

journey or hunting expedition at so early an hour, they proceed as

quietly as possible, and refrain from the practice, observed at other

times of the day, of testing the strength of their bow-strings, as the

snapping noise caused thereby is one of those to which the sun objects

[80].”

This is really the same prohibition as that already mentioned, against

making a noise when the cicada is singing. The interesting point, which

will be discussed in a later chapter, is that Mr Man’s informant

associated the prohibition not with Puluga, but with the sun. All the

natives with whom I talked on the matter said that they would make no

noise at such a time for fear of offending the cicada, and therefore

Puluga or Biliku, and so bringing a storm.

As regards the prohibition against killing the cicada, this seems to

refer only to the imago. So far as I was able to observe, the natives

do carefully avoid killing the cicada in its full-grown form. On the

other hand the grub of the cicada is regularly killed and eaten, being

regarded as a delicacy. It is only eaten during the months of October

and November.

In connection with the cicada, and with the weather, there is a rite

which was described to me, but which I did not see performed. According

to the account given of this rite, which is called “killing the

cicada,” its purpose is to produce fine weather. It takes place in

December, at the end of the season during which they eat the grub. When

the time agreed upon for the performance of the ceremony arrives, all

the members of the community are careful to be in the camp before

sunset. As soon as the sun sets and the cicadæ begin their shrill cry,

all the men, women and children present begin to make as much noise as

they possibly can, by banging on the sounding-board, striking the

ground with bamboos, beating pieces of wood together, or hammering on

the sides of canoes, while at the same time shouting. They continue the

noise, which entirely drowns that of the cicada, until after darkness

has fallen. The rite may be performed, I believe, two or more times, on

successive evenings. My informant explained the rite by saying that the

natives have been eating the cicada, and the rite is intended to “kill”

those that are left. After the rite the cicada disappears and is not

seen or heard for some weeks, and there follow four months of fine

weather with little rain.

The beliefs relating to bees’-wax, to the various edible roots, and to

the cicada, are the same in all the Great Andaman tribes, and are by

far the most important of those connected with Biliku. In the North

Andaman Biliku is supposed to be angry if any one kills a biliku

(spider), a reo (a species of insect making a noise like a cicada,

during the daytime, which I often heard, but never saw), or a čatlo (a

species of beetle). There is also a bird, which I was not able to

identify, called to̱ro̱i, which belongs to Biliku and may not be killed.

In the A-Pučikwar tribe it is said that two species of fish, called

unakoro and liwat belong to Bilik and may not be killed. A mollusc,

called towa, also belongs to Bilik, and is for that reason never eaten.

A bird called Bilik-l’ar-dala (probably the same bird that is called

to̱ro̱i in the North Andaman) may not be killed.

In the Akar-Bale tribe I was told that two kinds of wood, bukura and

worago, must not be used for firewood, for fear of offending Puluga, to

whom they belong. Bukura is a species of Diospyros (ebony).

The only punishment that Biliku ever inflicts on human beings when she

is angry with them for any reason, is to send violent storms. The way

to stop a storm seems to be to frighten Biliku. One means of doing this

is to throw the leaves of the Mimusops littoralis in the fire. These

leaves explode with the heating of the juices and make a crackling or

popping noise, which it is said that Biliku dislikes. I believe,

however, that if any one were thus to burn Mimusops leaves during fine

weather, it would be regarded as likely to cause a storm. The most

efficacious means of stopping a storm is to do some of the things that

Biliku most dislikes. To burn bees’-wax, or to go into the jungle and

damage or destroy the creepers that belong to her, these are the heroic

remedies against Biliku’s anger.

The question of the Andamanese beliefs about storms is complicated by

the fact that although all storms are said to be made by Puluga or

Biliku, yet there is an alternative and contradictory belief that

storms are made by the spirits of the sea (J̌urua). It is said that if a

piece of the Anadendron paniculatum creeper were to be burnt there

would be a great cyclone, but this appears to be associated, not with

Biliku, but with the spirits of the sea. It will be shown later that

there is a special connection between the J̌urua and this plant. The

belief that a storm will arise if turtle fat be allowed to burn in the

fire seems also to be connected with the J̌urua and not with Biliku. The

same is probably the case with a belief that rain will come if a Ficus

laccifera tree be damaged.

Some of the methods used to stop storms are also probably connected

with the spirits and not with Biliku. One such method is to go into the

sea and swish arrows about in the water. One oko-ǰumu (medicine-man) of

the North Andaman is reputed to have stopped a big cyclone by taking a

few pieces of Anadendron paniculatum and crushing them, and then diving

into the sea and placing the crushed creeper under a stone. An oko-ǰumu

who died while I was in the islands is supposed to have been able to

stop a storm by similarly placing leaves and twigs of the Ficus

laccifera (reŋko) under a rock in the sea.

To complete the account of this part of the Andamanese beliefs it is

necessary to quote what Mr Man writes about the tribes of the South

Andaman. Mr Man describes Puluga as a “Supreme Being” and says that

some of the beliefs of the Andamanese relating to him “approximate

closely to the true faith concerning the Deity.” Mr Portman, following

Mr Man, in this as in many other matters, translates the name Puluga by

the English word “God.” Mr Man’s statements are as follows:—

“Of Puluga they say that—

“I. Though His appearance is like fire, yet He is (nowadays) invisible.

“II. He was never born and is immortal.

“III. By him the world and all objects, animate and inanimate were

created, excepting only the powers of evil.

“IV. He is regarded as omniscient while it is day, knowing even the

thoughts of their hearts.

“V. He is angered by the commission of certain sins, while to those in

pain or distress he is pitiful, and sometimes deigns to afford relief.

“VI. He is the Judge from whom each soul receives its sentence after

death, and to some extent, the hope of escape from the torments of

J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu is said to affect their course of action in the present

life.

“Puluga is believed to live in a large stone house in the sky, with a

wife whom he created for himself: she is green in appearance and has

two names, Čana Aulola (Mother Fresh-water Shrimp), and Čana Palak

(Mother Eel); by her he has a large family, all, except the eldest,

being girls; these last, known as morowin (sky spirits or angels), are

said to be black in appearance, and, with their mother, amuse

themselves from time to time by throwing fish and prawns into the

streams and sea for the use of the inhabitants of the world. Puluga’s

son is called Piǰčor: he is regarded as a sort of archangel, and is

alone permitted to live with his father, whose orders it is his duty to

make known to the morowin.

“Puluga is said to eat and drink, and, during the dry months of the

year, to pass much of his time in sleep, as is proved by his voice

(thunder) being rarely heard at that season; he is the source whence

they receive all their supplies of animals, birds, and turtles; when

they anger him he comes out of his house and blows, and growls, and

hurls burning faggots at them—in other words, visits their offences

with violent thunderstorms and heavy squalls; except for this purpose

he seldom leaves home, unless it be during the rains, when he descends

to earth to provide himself with certain kinds of food; how often this

happens they do not know since, nowadays, he is invisible [81].”

Mr Man’s comparison between the Andamanese belief in Puluga and the

Christian belief in a God, will be discussed in a later chapter when we

come to deal with the interpretation of the Andamanese beliefs. It is

to be noted that Mr Man does not make any reference to Deria (Tarai),

nor does he mention the association of Puluga with the north-east.

As regards the personal appearance of Puluga, the statements of

different informants are not in agreement. One A-Pučikwar man described

Bilik as being very big, about the height of one of the posts of my hut

(which was eighteen feet), white-skinned like a European, having a long

beard, and carrying a bow of the J̌a̤rawa type.

The legends connecting Puluga with the creation of the world will be

given in the next chapter.

I am not able to confirm Mr Man’s statement that Puluga is omniscient,

and in fact there are some customs of the natives that are in

contradiction with any such belief. When they dig up yams (which belong

to Puluga) they take the tuber and replace the “crown” with the

attached stem in the ground, and explain this by saying that if they do

so Puluga will not notice that the yam has been taken. Whenever they do

any of the things that displease Puluga, they seem to believe that

there is a possibility that Puluga may not discover what has been done.

It may be noted that there is no means of distinguishing in Andamanese

between “all” and “a great deal.” Thus a statement the Puluga knows

“everything” may be equally well translated “Puluga knows a great

deal.” Between these two statements there is no difference for the

Andamanese, but there is a great difference for us, and for this reason

the use of the word “omniscient” is misleading.

Mr Man says that Puluga “is angered by the commission of certain sins.”

In this connection it is necessary to refer to another passage in Mr

Man’s work. “That they are not entirely devoid of moral consciousness

may, I think, in some measure, be demonstrated by the fact of their

possessing a word, yub-da, signifying sin or wrong-doing, which is used

in connection with falsehood, theft, grave assault, murder, adultery,

and—burning wax (!), which deeds are believed to anger Puluga-la, the

Creator [82].” Although I made very careful and repeated enquiries, I

was unable to meet with a single native who believed that such actions

as the murder of one man by another, or adultery, aroused the anger of

Puluga. The only actions at which Puluga is angry are those purely

ritual offences, such as burning or melting wax, killing a cicada,

digging up yams, etc., which have already been mentioned.

The Andamanese beliefs connected with the life after death will be

described later in the present chapter.

As regards the “stone house” in which Puluga is said to live, this

really means, I believe, a cave. In the North Andaman Biliku is

frequently spoken of as living in a cave (e̱ra-poŋ). Also, it may be

recalled, the sky is generally regarded as consisting of stone or rock,

and it is in the sky the Puluga lives.

The son of Puluga, mentioned by Mr Man, Piǰčor, is a being about whom I

was able to learn very little. In the North Andaman the same being is

named Perǰido, and is said to be the son of Biliku. The Morowin, whom

Mr Man describes as the daughters of Puluga, are sky spirits. The most

usual belief in the South Andaman is that there are both male and

female Morowin. They are beings of somewhat the same nature as the

jungle spirits and the sea spirits. An Akar-Bale informant told me,

“The Morua are sky spirits. They eat only pork and nothing else. They

are angry if pork is roasted, and make the people ill. They used to

live in the big baǰa (Sterculia) trees, but now they live in the sky.”

In this connection it may be mentioned that there is a belief

throughout the Andamans that it is dangerous to roast pork. In the

North Andaman the natives commonly say that the spirits of the jungle

are angry if pork be roasted, and may be attracted to the spot and

cause the natives to be ill. An Akar-Bale belief, connecting the danger

with the spirits of the sky has just been mentioned. Mr Man’s version

of the matter is as follows:— “... there is a company of evil spirits

who are called čol, and who are much dreaded. They are believed to be

descendants of Maia Čol who lived in antediluvian times. They generally

punish those who offend them by baking or roasting pig’s flesh, the

smell of which is particularly obnoxious to them, as it is also to

Puluga, who therefore, often assists them in discovering the

delinquent; the same risk does not attend boiling pork, which the

olfactory nerves of the fastidious čol are not keen enough to detect.

While the Andamanese say that they are liable to be struck by

E̱rem-čauga-la or J̌uruwin at any time or in any place, the čol strike

those only who offend them, and that during the day while they are

stationary, this being necessitated by the distance from the earth of

their abode, whence they hurl their darts; an invisible spear is the

weapon they always use, and this is thrown with unerring aim at the

head of their victims, and is invariably fatal. As these demons are

considered especially dangerous on the hottest days, they are

apparently held accountable for the deaths from sunstroke which happen

from time to time [83].”

It may be remarked that Čol is the name of a species of bird (probably

the racket-tailed drongo), which is named from its call—čol, čol, čol.

I did not hear the name used to denote what Mr Man calls demons, except

in so far as the birds themselves are supposed to have supernatural

powers. There is, perhaps, some sort of connection between the čol (the

birds, that is) and the sky-spirits, Morowin or Morua, but I was not

able to satisfy myself on the point. The connection of them both with

Puluga is still more obscure.

Another belief in connection with pigs is that any person who cuts up a

pig badly is liable to be punished. Mr Man states, on this subject,

“Puluga never himself puts any one to death, but he objects so strongly

to seeing a pig badly quartered and carved that he invariably points

out those who offend him in this respect to a class of malevolent

spirits called Čol, one of whom forthwith despatches the unfortunate

individual [84].”

I was not able to find any evidence that Puluga is believed to be angry

if a pig is badly quartered. From the natives with whom I talked on the

subject I received two different statements. One was to the effect that

if a pig is badly cut up the meat will be bad and anyone who eats it

will be ill. The other was that if a pig is badly cut up the spirits of

the jungle will be angry and will punish the offender. In neither case

was there any reference to Puluga or Biliku.

In general it may be said that the natives believe that the only

punishment that Puluga or Biliku ever sends against those who offend

him or her in any way is bad weather, and I did not myself meet with

any exception to this rule.

One other observation by Mr Man may be mentioned. He says, “When they

see a dark cloud approaching at a time when rain would prove very

inconvenient, as when hunting, travelling, etc., they advise Puluga to

divert its course by shouting ‘Wara-J̌obo kopke, kopke, kopke’

(Wara-J̌obo will bite, bite, bite (you)). If in spite of this a shower

falls they imagine that Puluga is undeterred by their warning [85].”

It is clear from the above discussion of the matter that there is not

any complete agreement in the beliefs concerning Puluga (Biliku) even

in any one tribe of the Andamans. There are many different statements

about this being which cannot be made consistent with one another

without doing violence to the evidence. At the same time, amid all the

differences and inconsistencies there are a certain number of points

about which there is a general agreement throughout the whole of the

tribes of the Great Andaman. One of these is the connection of Puluga

and Daria with the weather, with the two chief winds, and with the

points of the compass from which these winds blow. The other is the

belief that certain actions, such as melting bees’-wax, digging up

yams, etc., are disliked by Puluga, and are punished by him (or her)

with stormy weather. On these matters there is entire agreement amongst

the natives of all the tribes, and they are to the natives themselves

by far the most important part of the beliefs concerning Puluga.

We have seen that the Andamanese believe in two different kinds of what

may be called, for want of a better term, supernatural beings. In the

first place there are the spirits, the Lau or Čauga, and the J̌urua,

inhabiting the forest and the sea respectively. These are all

associated by the natives with ghosts, i.e. with the spirits of dead

men and women. In the second place there are other beings connected

with the sun and moon, lightning and thunder and the monsoons (Biliku

and Tarai). These are all associated with the phenomena of nature.

There are many points of contact between these two classes of beings.

Thus there are two alternative explanations of bad weather, one that it

is due to the spirits (particularly the spirits of the sea), the other

that it is due to the anger of Biliku. This is a point that will be

referred to again in a later chapter.

It is possible that there are beliefs in other supernatural beings who

are neither spirits of the dead nor connected with natural phenomena.

The only being of such a nature that I was able to discover anything

about is one called Nila or Ńila. This is the name of an evil being who

is supposed to live in hollow Pterocarpus trees. When he smells human

beings near his tree he comes out and kills them with his knife. I

found this belief in the A-Pučikwar tribe, but was not able to find any

trace of a similar belief in the North Andaman, though of course I

cannot say that it does not exist there. Mr Man mentions this same

being. “This spirit Nila is supposed to live in ant-hills, and to have

neither wife nor child; he is not regarded as such a malevolent

personage as Erem-čauga-la, and, though he is always armed with a

knife, he rarely injures human beings with it, or when he does so, it

is not in order to feed upon their bodies, for he is said to eat earth

only [86].” Mr Man adds, in a footnote that “cases have been cited of

persons who have been found stabbed, whose deaths have been attributed

to Nila: the possibility of the individuals in question having been

murdered is scouted.”

The version given by Mr Man is not quite in agreement with the

information given to me, but I was unfortunately not able to learn

anything more about the nature of Nila.

As throwing some additional light on the way in which the Andamanese

think of the supernatural beings that have been mentioned above, I add

here a brief description of a sort of dramatic or pantomimic dance that

I witnessed in the North Andaman. Many savage tribes in different parts

of the world are in the habit of performing dances or pantomimes in

which the performer represents a supernatural being. In the Andamans

there are no regular performances of this kind. The solitary one that I

witnessed was entirely exceptional.

The performer was a man named Kobo. This man, according to the

statements of the natives, had, at one time of his life, died and come

back to life again. Owing to this fact he was endowed with special

magical powers, and had some reputation as a magician or medicine-man

(oko-ǰumu). During the time that he was dead (probably a few hours of

unconsciousness), he is supposed to have visited the world of spirits,

and while there he saw many things and learnt much about the spirits.

Among other things he witnessed a dance in which the spirits and other

supernatural beings took part. All these things he was able to remember

when he returned to life.

The performance was given one afternoon on the ordinary dancing ground

of the village. The performer sat on his haunches in a hut at one end

of the dancing ground. Thrust into the back of his belt he wore a bunch

of leaves sticking out somewhat after the manner of a cock’s tail, but

he had no other ornament. The spectators, consisting of men, women and

children, were seated round the edge of the dancing ground, which had

been swept clean. On one side sat a few women who acted as chorus.

There was no sounding-board.

The performer began to sing a song, composed on the model of the songs

of the South Andaman (with a short refrain) which has now for some

years been adopted by the Northern tribes in preference to their own.

As he finished the song the women of the chorus took up the refrain,

repeating it over and over again, and marking time by clapping their

hands on their thighs. The performer came out of his hut and performed

a dance. At a signal from him the chorus ceased and he returned to his

hut. In this way he sang several songs, repeating each one several

times, and performed a number of short dances. In nearly every case the

step of the dance was some simple modification of the step in common

use at an ordinary dance. Thus in one dance he danced very violently

and pretended to hurt his leg through the violence of his dancing,

making angry signs to the chorus to stop their clapping, of which, of

course, they took no notice. In another dance he stopped at short

intervals and violently scratched his sides and then doubled himself up

with laughter. In yet another, he danced with the step of the women’s

dance, covering his face with his hands and pretending to be very

bashful. In still another he stood on tiptoe on the right foot and

stamped with his left foot in time to the chorus of women. In some of

the dances he walked round the open space within the circle of

spectators, sometimes in a crouching attitude, and at other times in

other attitudes. All these dances aroused great amusement amongst the

spectators. It was unfortunately impossible for me to understand them

all or to obtain an adequate explanation of them either at the time or

later.

Of the songs that were sung one was “The tide has gone down over the

reef. I walk round the world. There is great wind and rain.”

Some of these dances I was able to understand even without explanation.

One of them represented Biliku. The performer held in his right hand a

shell, and as he danced grotesquely round the open space he looked

fiercely at the spectators and threatened to throw the shell at them.

Many of the women and children could not prevent themselves from

starting backwards when he thus threatened them, but their fears were

immediately dispelled in laughter. The shell was not a pearl-shell (be)

but a Cyrena shell (bun), but I believe that this was because there was

no pearl-shell available. The representation of Biliku was thus reduced

to a single gesture, that of threatening the natives with her

pearl-shell (lightning).

Another dance represented the jungle spirits (Bido-teč Lau). In this he

first hid himself behind a screen of bido leaves (Calamus tigrinus)

that had been prepared, singing a song. The leaves represented a clump

of the Calamus palm such as is supposed to be the favourite haunt of

the jungle spirits. After having sung for some time behind his screen

of leaves, he came out with a bow and arrow in his hand, and as he

danced in front of the spectators he pretended to shoot at them.

In another dance he represented Ele, the lightning. He sat on a stone

that had been placed in the middle of the open space, swinging his arms

to the time of the chorus, and every now and then shaking his leg.

This observation is an important one in several ways. Although I asked

the man to repeat it, in order that I might make fuller notes and

obtain explanations of many obscure points, and although he grudgingly

said that he would, yet he did not do so. He was, moreover, very

reserved over the matter, and not very willing to talk about his own

performance.

I believe that the performance was an entirely exceptional affair. I

never at any other time either saw or heard of one man or even several

men, giving a dance for the amusement of others. I think that the whole

thing was entirely the invention of the performer. He had given the

same performance, or one very similar, at least once before the

occasion on which I saw it.

We may now turn to the Andamanese beliefs relating to the soul and the

life after death.

The vital principle is at different times identified by the Andamanese

with the pulse, the breath, with the blood and with the fat,

particularly the kidney-fat. Thus the body of a slain enemy is burnt so

that the blood and fat may be consumed in smoke and ascend to the sky

where they will no longer be a danger to those who have slain him.

The nearest approach to our notion of a soul that the natives possess

is their belief concerning the double or reflection seen in a mirror.

In the Northern tribes the word ot-ǰumulo means “reflection,” and also

“shadow,” and is also nowadays applied to a photograph. The word

ot-ǰumu, in the same languages, means “a dream” or “to dream.” We may

perhaps translate the word ot-ǰumulo as meaning “soul.” In the Aka-Bea

language ot-yolo is “reflection,” while there is a different word,

ot-diya or ot-lere, for “shadow,” and neither of the words has any

connection with the word “dream” which is taraba. Mr Man translates the

word ot-yolo as “soul.”

The fact that the words for dream and reflection, double or shadow are

from the same root in the Northern languages is of interest. Dreams are

sometimes explained by saying that the sleeper’s double (ot-ǰumulo) has

left his body and is wandering elsewhere. Dreams are regarded as being

veridical, or at any rate, as having importance. One man told me how,

in a dream the night before, his ot-ǰumulo had travelled from where we

were to his own country and had there seen the death of the baby of a

woman of his own tribe. He was fully convinced that the baby must

really have died.

An Andamanese will never, or only with the very greatest reluctance,

awaken another from sleep. One explanation of this that was given to me

was that the ot-ǰumulo or double of the sleeper may be wandering far

from his body, and to waken him suddenly might cause him to be ill.

The principle on which dreams are interpreted is a very simple one. All

unpleasant dreams are bad, all pleasant ones are good. The natives

believe that sickness is often caused by dreams. A man in the early

stages of an attack of fever, for instance, may have a bad dream. When

the fever develops he explains it as due to the dream. If a man has a

painful dream he will often not venture out of the camp the following

day, but will stay at home until the effect has worn off. The natives

believe that they can communicate in dreams with the spirits, but the

power to do this regularly is the privilege of certain special

individuals, known as oko-ǰumu (dreamers). However, an ordinary

individual may occasionally have dreams of this kind.

I found that any attempt to study the dreams of such a people as the

Andamanese is made very difficult by the fact that it is never possible

to tell how far the original dream has been arranged and altered by the

waking imagination. So far as my observations went the majority of

dreams are either visual or motor, or both. Further reference to dreams

will be made later in connection with magic.

When a man or woman dies the double (or as some of the natives explain

it, the breath) leaves the body and becomes a spirit (lau or čauga). By

death a man ceases to exist as a man, and begins a new existence as a

spirit.

Whenever I asked the natives whence came the spirits of the jungle and

the sea I received the answer that they are the spirits of dead men and

women. On the other hand, when I put in another form what might seem to

be the same question, and asked what became of a man’s spirit after his

death, I received many different and inconsistent answers. As it would

take too much space to transcribe every answer that I received to this

question, a number of typical ones are selected. Any attempt to

reconcile the statements of different men or of the same men on

different occasions can only produce a false impression of the real

condition of the native beliefs, and therefore the statements are kept

separate, and each one is given as it was taken down.

The first is from the Northern tribes. Exactly similar statements were

made to me by men of several tribes. “When a man dies he becomes a Lau

and wanders about the jungle. At first he keeps near the grave or the

place where he died, but after a while he finds that is no good, and so

he goes to live with the other spirits. If he is drowned he becomes a

J̌urua.” A second account, varying from the above in only one

particular, is also from one of the Northern tribes (Aka-Čari). “When a

man dies he becomes a Lau or a J̌urua and lives with the other spirits.

If he be a jungle-dweller he becomes a Lau and lives in the jungle. If

he be a coast-dweller he becomes a J̌urua and lives in the sea. All the

Aka-Čari become J̌urua when they die. The spirit stays in his own

country. The spirits of a man’s own country (whether Lau or J̌urua) are

friendly to him, but those of another country are dangerous and will

make him ill.”

An entirely different statement frequently made to me by men of the

Northern tribes is that when a man dies the spirit (Lau) either

immediately, or after the lapse of some time, goes to another world

that lies under this one and is called Maramiku. This world of spirits

is said to be just like the actual world, with forest and sea, and all

the familiar animal and vegetable species. The inhabitants spend their

time just as the Andamanese do on earth, hunting, fishing and dancing.

Still another statement that is commonly made in the North is that the

spirits of the dead go to live in the sky. Two such statements are as

follows: “When a man dies his ot-ǰumulo (double) goes up to the sky and

becomes a Lau (spirit).” “A man’s spirit wanders in the jungle till the

flesh has rotted from the bones, and then goes away to the sky.” Other

statements were very similar to these two.

Turning now to the Southern tribes, one informant of the A-Pučikwar

tribe gave me the following account: “When a man or woman dies the

spirit goes away to the east or north-east and goes over the edge of

the world, remaining in a place called Lau-l’uŋ-ciŋ (Spirit’s House)

where there is a large hut in a jungle similar to that on earth. There

they live just as men do on earth, hunting and fishing, and so on.

Beyond the home of the spirits is Puta-ko̱iča, the home of the sun and

moon. The rainbow is the path by which the spirits come to visit their

friends on earth, which they do in dreams. The rainbow is made of canes

(? a cane).”

Another version from the same tribe was to the effect that after death

the spirits of the dead go to live in the sky with a mythical being

named Tomo. This Tomo, according to some of the legends, was the first

ancestor of the Andamanese. By one of my best informants he was

identified to some extent with the sun, and consequently with light and

with fine weather. This man stated that in the world of the spirits it

is never night as Tomo is always there. The spirits always have plenty

of pork and turtle, and spend their time dancing and enjoying

themselves.

One old man of the A-Pučikwar tribe, who had some reputation as a

medicine-man, said that the spirits of medicine-men lived apart from

the spirits of ordinary men and women, and are called not Lau but

Bilik. He told me how he had been visited in a dream by Bo̱ičo Bilik;

that is by the spirit of one Bo̱ičo who had, when he lived, been a great

medicine-man, and who, now that he was dead, had become a Bilik, as

distinguished from an ordinary Lau. It is the Bilik who control the

weather. They can also cause or cure sickness in living men. The Bo̱ičo

mentioned above was alive when my informant was a young man.

In the Akar-Bale tribe one man told me that the breath (ig-peti) of a

dying person goes up to the sky and becomes a spirit. Another belief of

the same tribe is that the spirits of the dead go to J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu,

which is under the earth. From the same tribe comes the following

account: “When a man or woman dies, the spirit first of all goes

southward to the country of the Aka-Bea, and then returns to

Gudna-l’ar-boŋ in Kuaičo-bur (in the Akar-Bale country). It then goes

to J̌ila-buaro in J̌ila (East Island) and from there to Kere-tuaur. The

inhabitants of the last-named place are warned of the approach of the

spirit by the cries of the birds tao (Eudynamis honorata, Indian koel

or brain-fever bird) and bil (Australian goggle-eyed plover). At one

time the people of Luŋ-tauar used to catch the spirits in big nets made

for the purpose. They were taught to do this by a wise woman named In

Golat. The spirits try to run away, but they get caught at the place

called Guamo-leber. The people then throw them into the sea, and they

(the spirits) then go to Čauga-l’uŋ-jiŋa (Spirit’s Home) and remain

there.” The above is given exactly as it was translated to me by an

Akar-Bale man who knew English and who acted as my interpreter on the

occasion. There is much in it that I do not understand and that my

questions failed to elucidate. It is given as an example of the nature

of some of the more obscure of the Andamanese beliefs. To understand

fully many of their statements on this and other matters would need a

more complete knowledge of the language than I possessed, and a longer

time than I was able to give.

The various examples given above are sufficient to show the general

nature of the Andamanese beliefs. In every tribe there are alternative

and inconsistent beliefs as to the place where spirits go, which by

different accounts is in the sky, beneath the earth, out to the east

where the sun and moon take their rise, or in the jungle and sea of

their own country. One thing is clear, that the Andamanese ideas on the

subject are floating and lacking in precision. There is no fixity or

unanimity of belief amongst them.

To these various accounts from the natives themselves, must be added

the description of the beliefs of the Aka-Bea tribe as recorded by Mr

Man. This may best be given in the writer’s own words. “The world,

exclusive of the sea, is declared to be flat and to rest on an immense

palm-tree (Caryota sobolifera) called barata, which stands in the midst

of a jungle comprising the whole area under the earth. This jungle,

čaitan (Hades) is a gloomy place, for, though visited in turn by the

sun and moon, it can, in consequence of its situation, be only

partially lighted: it is hither the spirits (čauga) of the departed are

sent by Puluga to await the Resurrection.

“No change takes place in čaitan in respect to growth or age; all

remain as they were at the time of their departure from the earth, and

the adults are represented as engaged in hunting, after a manner

peculiar to disembodied spirits. In order to furnish them with sport

the spirits of animals and birds are also sent to čaitan, but as there

is no sea there, the čauga of fish and turtle remain in their native

element and are preyed upon by ǰuruwin. The spirits (čauga) and souls

(ot-yolo) of all children who die before they cease to be entirely

dependent on their parents (i.e. under six years of age) go to čaitan,

and are placed under a rau tree (Ficus laccifera) on the fruit of which

they subsist. As none can quit čaitan who have once entered, they

support their stories regarding it by a tradition that in ages long

past an oko-paiad was favoured in a dream with a vision of the regions

and of the pursuits of the disembodied spirits.

“Between the earth and the eastern sky there stretches an invisible

cane bridge (pidga-l’ar-čauga) which steadies the former and connects

it with ǰereg (paradise); over this bridge the souls (ot-yolo) of the

departed pass into paradise, or to ǰereg-l’ar-mugu, which is situated

below it: this latter place might be described as purgatory, for it is

a place of punishment for those who have been guilty of heinous sins,

such as murder. Like Dante, they depict it as very cold, and therefore

a most undesirable region for mortals to inhabit. From all this it will

be gathered that these despised savages believe in a future state, in

the resurrection, and in the threefold constitution of man.

“In serious illness the sufferer’s spirit (čauga) is said to be

hovering between this world and Hades, but does not remain permanently

in the latter place until some time after death, during which interval

it haunts the abode of the deceased and the spot where the remains have

been deposited. In dreams it is the soul which, having taken its

departure through the nostrils, sees or is engaged in the manner

represented to the sleeper.

“The Andamanese do not regard their shadows but their reflections (in

any mirror) as their souls. The colour of the soul is said to be red,

and that of the spirit black, and, though invisible to human eyes, they

partake of the form of the person to whom they belong. Evil emanates

from the soul, and all good from the spirit; at the resurrection they

will be re-united and live permanently on the new earth, for the souls

of the wicked will then have been reformed by the punishments inflicted

on them during their residence in ǰereg-l’ar-mugu.

“The future life will be but a repetition of the present, but all will

then remain in the prime of life, sickness and death will be unknown,

and there will be no more marrying or giving in marriage. The animals,

birds, and fish will also re-appear in the new world in their present

form.

“This blissful state will be inaugurated by a great earthquake, which,

occurring by Puluga’s command, will break the pidga-l’ar-čauga and

cause the earth to turn over: all alive at the time will perish,

exchanging places with their deceased ancestors [87].”

This account given by Mr Man, must, I think, be received with great

caution. To one who has talked to the Andamanese on these subjects it

seems probable that Mr Man has here combined into a single consistent

version, a number of independent statements, which, as the natives

believe them, are not parts of an organised doctrine, but are separate

from and often inconsistent with each other. Added to this there is the

fact that Mr Man has so written down the native beliefs as to bring out

the greatest possible degree of resemblance to the Christian mythology.

This is clear from his use of the words Hades, paradise, etc. Allowance

must therefore be made for the fact that Mr Man evidently found some

pleasure in tracing analogies between the mythology of the Andamanese

and the Christian doctrines.

Owing to the importance attaching to all Mr Man’s statements it is

necessary to examine critically the account transcribed above. We may

begin with what is said of the doctrine of the threefold nature of man.

By this it would seem to be meant that man is regarded as composed of

body, soul and spirit. It is quite certain that the Andamanese mean

different things by the words ot-yolo (reflection) here translated

“soul,” and čauga translated “spirit.” The difference is this, that a

man, while he is still alive, has a “double” or “soul” if the latter

word be preferred, while when he is dead he becomes a spirit. Thus the

spirit is not a part of a man while he is alive. The word čauga (or

lau) is simply the name of a particular class of beings which includes

all dead men and women. The bones of a man become “spirit-bones”

(čauga-ta) when he dies, just as he becomes a spirit. To compare the

Andamanese belief with the Christian doctrine that each man possesses,

while he is alive, both a soul and a spirit, these being different

things, is therefore misleading. For this reason it is perhaps

unfortunate to translate the Andamanese čauga as meaning spirit, but

there does not seem to be any other convenient English word.

Mr Man’s account would seem to imply that the native belief is that at

death the soul (reflection) of a man goes to one place (J̌ereg or

J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu) while his spirit goes elsewhere (to Čaitan). In the

case of children however, Mr Man makes a difference, for both the souls

and spirits of children go to Čaitan. Mr Man compares Čaitan to Hades,

J̌ereg to paradise and J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu to purgatory.

I do not think that the Andamanese have any such complicated doctrine

as this. It seems to me almost certain that Mr Man has received from

the natives several different statements, similar to some of those

given earlier, and that he has combined and reconciled them as well as

he could. Some of his informants, apparently, described the world after

death as being beneath the earth, and gave the name of it as Čaitan

[88]. Other informants seem to have spoken of [vJ]ereg or

J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu. I think it improbable that any one native should have

stated, as Mr Man’s account would seem to imply, that the soul of a

dead man goes to one place, while the man himself (now a spirit) goes

somewhere else. Mr Man’s description of Čaitan corresponds almost

exactly to the descriptions given to me by the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar

of J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu, and to the descriptions of Maramiku given by the

Northern tribes. If Čaitan be really an Aka-Bea word, it would seem to

be only another name for J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu.

One of the most important points in Mr Man’s statement is that while

the souls of good men go to paradise as he puts it, the souls of bad

men are condemned to torture in purgatory [89]. In my own enquiries I

did not come across any definite belief of this nature, but I am not

prepared to deny its existence. All that I can say is that I did not

find any evidence whatever that good men and bad men (in any meanings

in which those words could be used by the natives) receive different

treatment after death. In talking to men of the Akar-Bale and

A-Pučikwar tribes I did not hear of J̌ereg as a distinct place from

J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu. The latter name is of course a compound, from ar-mugu

= front, and might mean either “the place fronting or facing J̌ereg” or

“the place J̌ereg, fronting us.”

Mr Man states that the souls and spirits of young children go to Čaitan

where they subsist on the fruit of a rau tree (Ficus laccifera). In the

North Andaman I found a belief that the souls of children, before they

are born, live in the Ficus trees, but these are the real trees on

earth that are in question, and not a mythical tree in the next world.

It is commonly believed that if a baby dies the soul enters the mother

again and is born a second time. It is possible that what Mr Man

relates as to the souls of children after death living in a Ficus tree

in Čaitan may really refer to real fig trees on earth.

As regards the resurrection spoken of by Mr Man, I was also so

unfortunate as to obtain no information. As will be shown in a later

chapter, there are several myths of the world coming to an end and

starting afresh, and these myths are generally associated with Puluga

or Biliku. All the versions that I heard, however, referred to the past

and not to the future [90].

The Andamanese speak of unconsciousness as “death,” and regard a person

who has been unconscious for some time as having been dead and returned

to life again. I was once told that an old man in the village was

“dead” and found him in a state of coma from which he recovered and

lived for several days. There are stories of persons having returned to

life even after they have been buried. One such tale was told me in the

North Andaman. A man died and was buried. As his friends and relatives,

after packing up their belongings, were leaving the camp in their

canoes, the man’s voice was heard calling. His wife and mother turned

back and met him and took him in their canoe. He lived for some time

after this and then he died and was buried again. Again the same thing

happened, the dead man re-appearing just as they were setting off in

their canoes from the camp that they were deserting on account of his

death. Finally the man died a third time. When he was buried this time

the men dug a very deep hole some distance from the camp, and then

hurried back to the camp and hastily gathered up their belongings and

left it. Nothing more was seen of the dead man, but when, after the

lapse of some months, they went to dig up the bones, they found the mat

and leaves and rope in which the corpse had been bound, but there were

no bones.

Amongst the coast-dwellers of the North Andaman I found a belief that

the soul of a dying man goes out with the ebbing tide.

There are, amongst the Andamanese, certain individuals who are

distinguished from their fellows by the supposed possession of

supernatural powers. These specially favoured persons correspond, to

some degree, with the medicine-men, magicians or shamans of other

primitive societies. The name for these medicine-men in the North

Andaman is oko-ǰumu, meaning literally “dreamer” or “one who speaks

from dreams” from a stem -ǰumu the primary meaning of which refers to

the phenomena of dreams. In Aka-Bea the corresponding term is

oko-paiad, and according to Mr Man, this term also means “dreamer.” Mr

Portman, however, gives taraba as the Aka-Bea word for “dream” or “to

dream.”

According to a statement by Mr Man, only men can possess the powers

that entitle them to be regarded as oko-paiad [91]. The natives whom I

questioned told me that a woman may possess the same powers, though it

is more usual for men to become famous in this way than women. There is

no very clear dividing line between those who are oko-ǰumu or oko-paiad

and those who are not; one person may possess the powers in only a

slight degree, so as scarcely to differentiate him from others, while

another may be much more highly gifted.

At the present time it is no longer possible to obtain full and

satisfactory information on this subject. Most of the old oko-ǰumu and

oko-paiad are now dead. Amongst the younger men there are a few who

pretend to the position, but the recent intercourse with foreigners has

produced a degree of scepticism in such matters that makes it difficult

or nearly impossible to obtain any reliable information as to the

former beliefs from any but the very old men. To this difficulty must

be added that in talking to some of the very few old men who could have

given more valuable information I had to make use of an interpreter,

and though they might have been willing to confide to me some of the

secrets of their profession they would not do so before a younger man

of their own race.

The powers of a dreamer, supernatural as they are, can only be acquired

by supernatural means, through contact in one way or another with the

spirits (i.e. the Lau or Čauga). One way of coming into contact with

the spirits is by death. If a man should, as the natives put it, die

and then come back to life again, he is, by that adventure, endowed

with the power that makes a medicine-man. One man of the Aka-Ko̱ra tribe

was pointed out to me as having obtained his powers in this way. It

would seem that during a serious illness he was unconscious for some

twelve hours or so, and his friends thought that he was dead. A

medicine-man whom I met with in the A-Pučikwar tribe was said to have

died and come to life again three times. Another man, whom I did not

meet, was described to me as a great oko-ǰumu, and from the description

given it seemed to me that he was subject to epileptic fits. As against

this, however, Mr Man states that “epilepsy is a recognised form of

malady, but the fits are not regarded in a superstitious light [92].”

Another way in which a man can acquire magical powers is by direct

communication with the spirits. A man who died a few years ago was

believed by the natives to have once met with some spirits in the

jungle, and to have acquired in this way the powers of an oko-ǰumu. He

used to go off into the jungle by himself at intervals and hold

communication with the spirits with whom he had made friends. From such

a visit he had returned with his head decorated with shredded palm-leaf

fibre (ko̱ro) which had, so he said, been placed on him by the spirits.

This man had a reputation as a powerful oko-ǰumu.

In a less degree the powers of an oko-ǰumu may be obtained through

dreams. It is believed that certain men have the power of communicating

with the spirits in dreams, and such men are oko-ǰumu. If a man or boy

experiences dreams that are in any way extraordinary, particularly if,

in his dreams he sees spirits, either the spirits of dead persons known

to him when alive, or spirits of the forest or the sea, he may acquire

in time the reputation of a medicine-man.

A man may claim some degree of magical power, and yet his claims may

not be recognized by others. Each oko-ǰumu has to make his own

reputation, and to sustain it when made. This he can only do by

demonstrating his power to others. Once this reputation is his, he not

only receives the respect of others but also makes a considerable

personal profit. Every one is anxious to be on good terms with one who

is believed to have extraordinary powers. Hence a man who is an

acknowledged oko-ǰumu is sure to receive a good share of the game

caught by others, and presents of all kinds from those who seek his

good-will.

As the name implies, and in whatever way his power may have been

obtained, an oko-ǰumu is privileged to dream in a way that less

favoured persons do not. In his dreams he can communicate with the

spirits of the dead. In dreams, also, so the natives say, he is able to

cause the illness of an enemy or to cure that of a friend.

By his communication with the spirits, in dreams, or in waking life,

the oko-ǰumu acquires magical knowledge that he is able to turn to

account in curing illness and in preventing bad weather. When a person

is ill the oko-ǰumu is often consulted as to the best means of treating

the patient. His treatment is often limited to the recommendation, or

the application, of some one or other of the recognized remedies. He

may undertake to dispel the spirits that are supposed to be the cause

of the disease, which he does by addressing them and conjuring them to

go away, or by the use of one or other of the substances and objects

that are believed to have the power of keeping spirits at a distance.

Sometimes the oko-ǰumu will promise to cure the patient by means of

dreams. It is believed that in his dreams he can communicate with the

spirits and can persuade them to help him to cure the sick person.

Besides their power of causing or curing sickness, the oko-ǰumu are

credited with being able to control the weather. As has been shown, the

Andamanese believe that the weather is under the control of two beings

named Biliku and Tarai. There is, however, an alternative and

contradictory belief, which is also held, that the weather is

controlled by the spirits, and particularly by those of the sea. The

means taken by magicians or others to prevent bad weather can be

divided into two kinds according as they are directed against Biliku or

Tarai, or against the spirits of the sea. As an example of the very

simple rites which are performed for this purpose, two cases may be

quoted. One of the oko-ǰumu of the Northern tribes, now dead, once

stopped a very violent storm by crushing between two stones a piece of

the Anadendron paniculatum and diving with it into the sea where he

placed it under a rock on the reef. A more recent example is very

similar. A man still living, named J̌ire Pilečar, who was, in a way, the

successor of the man formerly mentioned, is said to have stopped a

violent storm by using the leaves and bark of the Ficus laccifera in

the same way, that is by crushing them and placing them under a rock in

the sea. In both these cases it would seem that the rite was directed

not against Biliku and Tarai, but against the J̌urua.

Apart from his power to communicate directly with the spirits, the

oko-ǰumu owes his position to a superior knowledge of the magical

properties of common substances and objects. This knowledge he is

supposed to obtain from the spirits. However, a lesser degree of

knowledge on such matters is possessed by everybody. Thus in the

treatment of sickness there are a number of magical remedies of which

anyone can make use without consulting an oko-ǰumu.

A complete enumeration of all the things that are believed to possess

magical properties is, of course, not possible, but the following notes

refer to all the most important.

We may consider first of all the magical properties of mineral

substances. One of the most important of these is red ochre. Yellow

ochre, which is found in pockets in many parts of the islands, is

collected and burnt, when it turns red, and the powder so obtained is

either used by itself or is made into a paint with pig or turtle fat.

The powder is mixed with water and taken internally. Red paint is

applied to the throat and chest for coughs and colds and sore throats,

and round the ear for ear-ache. When a man feels unwell he often smears

red paint on his upper lip just below his nostrils. In this way, the

natives say, the “smell” of the paint cures his sickness. The paint is

sometimes used as a dressing for wounds or centipede bites. Its use for

ornamenting the body on ceremonial occasions has already been noted in

the last chapter.

In the North Andaman a soft red stone is found, called talar. This is

used as a substitute for red paint. It is rubbed on the body, or it is

powdered and the powder is mixed with water and taken internally.

White clay (to̱l-odu in Aka-J̌eru) is sometimes used medicinally, both

externally and internally. The commoner clay (odu in Aka-J̌eru) is

plastered on sores, and has the effect of keeping off flies, if it does

nothing else.

An olive-coloured earth (called čulŋa in Aka-Bea), found in certain

springs, is prized as a remedy. It is mixed with water and taken

internally as a general remedy for all sorts of complaints.

Turning now to the magical properties of vegetable substances, there

are a large number of these, and some of them have not been botanically

identified.

The Anadendron paniculatum is a plant from which the Andamanese obtain

a valuable fibre, which they use for their bow-strings, and for thread

with which to make their arrows and harpoons. A number of magical

properties are attributed to this plant. Rheumatism is supposed to be

due to the “smell” of the plant getting into the system when the fibre

is being prepared [93]. The “smell” of the green plant, or of the fibre

until it has been thoroughly dried for some days, is believed to

frighten away turtle. A man who has been preparing the fibre would not

dream of joining a turtle-hunting expedition, for his presence in the

canoe would be sufficient to drive away all the turtle. A

turtle-hunting expedition would be a failure if a piece of the green

creeper were in the canoe. A man who has been handling the plant may

not cook turtle, for the meat would be “bad,” i.e., uneatable. The same

thing would happen if turtle meat accidentally came in contact with a

piece of the plant. All this applies only to the green creeper, and not

to the fibre after it has been properly prepared and dried. The fibre

itself is used for binding the heads of turtle-harpoons, so it is

evidently regarded as harmless.

If a piece of the Anadendron creeper were burnt in the fire the natives

believe that it would drive all the turtle away from the neighbourhood,

or, according to another statement, that there would be a great storm.

So far we have considered the properties of the plant only in so far as

they make it dangerous to handle. It has other and beneficial

properties. It is said that a man swimming in waters infested with

sharks would be safe from them if he had a piece of the Anadendron

creeper with him, in his belt or necklace. The creeper is also supposed

to preserve anyone who carries it from the attacks of the sea spirits

(J̌urua).

The Hibiscus tiliaceus is a small tree from which the natives obtain

the fibre which they make into rope, used now for harpoon lines and in

former times for turtle-nets. The leaves of this tree are believed to

have the power of keeping away the spirits of the sea. They have no

efficacy, however, against the spirits of the forest. Leaves of the

Hibiscus tiliaceus are used in the turtle-eating ceremony described in

the last chapter. For cooking turtle the only wood that may be used is

the Hibiscus. If any other wood were used the meat would not be good.

In this connection it is necessary to point out an error in the

statements of Mr Man. He says that the wood of the alaba must never be

used for cooking turtle, though it may be used for cooking pig, and

that Puluga is angry if this commandment is not observed and sends

either the sun or moon to punish the offender [94]. There is evidently

an error here. The alaba is the Hibiscus tiliaceus. Mr Man identifies

it with the Melochia velutina, but this is an error. Now the custom in

connection with the Hibiscus (alaba) is not that it may not be used for

cooking turtle, but that no other kind of wood must be used. It is

difficult to see how Mr Man fell into the error, unless he mistook a

statement regarding the yo̱lba (Anadendron paniculatum) for a statement

relating to alaba (Hibiscus tiliaceus). We have just seen that if the

Anadendron comes in contact with turtle meat the meat will be bad, and

that if it is burnt there will be a storm.

Another plant that provides fibre for thread is the Gnetum edule. There

is a belief that the green creeper of this plant will drive away

turtle, if a piece of it be taken in a canoe.

Magical properties are attributed to the Ficus laccifera tree. These

trees are believed to be the home of the yet unborn souls of children.

I was told in the North Andaman that if a tree of the species were cut

there would be a storm. The bark of the aerial roots of the tree

affords a fibre used in the Little Andaman for bow-strings, but only

used in the Great Andaman for making personal ornaments. It is possible

that some magical properties are attributed to the ornaments made from

this fibre.

The Pterocarpus dalbergioides is one of the most striking trees of the

Andamans. It has a very hard red wood, from which the natives make

their sounding-boards. There is an obscure belief in the A-Pučikwar

tribe (and possibly also in other tribes) that it is dangerous to look

at the tree when it is in flower. I was twice told a story of how some

people were affected by looking at the flowers, and either went mad or

died. On one occasion my interpreter translated the words of my

informant by saying “They saw the flowers, and went giddy, and they all

went to hell (J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu).” Men must be careful when the tree is

in flower, not to look at it too long. In the North Andaman I was told

that string games (ǰipre) must not be played when the Pterocarpus tree

is in flower. They may be indulged in with safety at any other time of

the year. (String games, according to one statement, were invented by

the Lau, while another account attributes the invention to the crab.)

The Tetranthera lancæfolia is a small tree from which the natives

obtain the wood for the shafts of their pig arrows. The leaves of this

tree are believed to have the power to keep away the spirits of the

forest. They are used in the pig-eating ceremony described in the last

chapter. The wood is shredded and made into plumes, and these plumes

are believed to have magical properties. They are worn by a man who has

killed another, and are believed to protect him from the vengeance of

the spirit of the dead man.

A common remedy for sickness of different kinds is a small tree called

gugma in Aka-Bea, which Mr Man identifies as being Trigonostemon

longifolius. The leaves of this tree are made into a bed for the

patient to lie upon. They are also crushed and rubbed over the

patient’s body, or he is made to inhale the odour of the crushed

leaves. The natives say that it is the “smell” of the plant that

possesses medical properties. The “smell” will drive away turtle, and

leaves should therefore not be taken in a canoe. A man who has been

handling the leaves would not go turtle-hunting.

Another remedy is a species of Alpinia. The leaves and stems of this

plant are chewed and the juice swallowed for certain ailments. The

plant is also used when taking honey. A man takes some of the leaves in

his mouth and chews them well. Before taking the honeycomb he sprays

the saliva from his mouth over and around it. He may also rub the

chewed leaves over his body. The natives say that in this way they are

able to prevent the bees from stinging them.

Magical properties are attributed to a number of plants that have not

been botanically identified. Thus the leaves of a small tree called

tare in Aka-J̌eru are crushed and moistened with water and rubbed over

the body as a remedy for illness. A strip of bark from the same tree is

tied round the chest of a man with a pain in his chest. The bark of two

trees called (in Aka-J̌eru) tip and laro is crushed and moistened and

rubbed over a sick man’s body. The leaves of a plant called pare are

crushed with water and the infusion is drunk by persons suffering from

diarrhœa and abdominal pains. A creeper called korotli is crushed and

tied round a limb in cases of snake-bite. The seeds of the Entada

scandens are heated in the fire and applied (while hot) to such wounds

as that from the tusk of a boar.

There are a certain number of trees and plants about which the natives

say that any person cutting them will become blind. The names of four

of these in Aka-J̌eru are ǰin, burut, deŋ, and mit.

We may turn now to animals and animal substances. Magical properties

are attributed to bees’-wax, particularly to black bees’-wax. In a case

of pleurisy black bees’-wax was heated until it was soft, and then

smeared over the man’s chest. Bees’-wax is believed to keep away the

spirits of the forest.

If a man be bitten by a snake and the snake be killed it is skinned and

the inner surface of the skin is applied to the wound.

A hiccough is supposed to be the result of inadvertently swallowing a

tree lizard, whose call rather resembles the sound of a person

hiccoughing.

The condition popularly called “pins and needles” or described as an

arm or leg “going to sleep” is believed by the Andamanese to be due to

the bite of a rat. If a man wakes up in the night with one of his limbs

benumbed in this way, he believes that a rat has bitten him while he

slept.

The Andamanese say that the bite of a civet-cat (Paradoxurus) will

produce cramp. I was once told that if a man eats the flesh of the

civet-cat and then goes into the water he will become “lame.” This

means, I think, that he will have cramp, and so will be unable to swim.

The flesh and particularly the fat of the flying fox (Pteropus) is

believed to be a remedy for rheumatism. An old man who was suffering

from this ailment once asked me to shoot for him some of these bats,

which he cooked and ate.

If turtle-fat be permitted to burn in the fire there will be a storm.

Mention has already been made of the magical value attributed to human

bones. They are esteemed as a means of driving away spirits, and

therefore of curing or preventing sickness. A human jaw-bone was

hanging in my hut in such a position that it could swing in the wind.

The natives attributed to this the illness from which I and several of

them were suffering at the time, and asked me to put the bone away in a

basket, where it could not move.

Bones of animals are made into ornaments in the same way as human

bones, and magical properties of a similar kind seem to be attributed

to them.

Of other objects possessing magical properties the most important is

fire. Fire is believed to have the power of keeping away spirits of the

sea and of the forest. A fire is always kept alight beside a sick man

or woman. For dysentery stones are heated in a fire and the patient is

required to defecate on to these.

In conclusion, mention must be made of one favourite remedy of the

Andamanese, namely scarification. The part of the body that is the seat

of pain is scarified, as the forehead for headaches, the cheek for

toothache. A number of very small incisions are made in the skin close

together, with a sharp flake of quartz or glass. The incisions are just

deep enough to cut through the skin and cause a little blood to ooze

out, but not so deep as to produce a flow of blood. The operation is

the work of women. It is probably more frequently used than any other

remedy except red paint and human bones.