MYTHS AND LEGENDS
The Andamanese have a number of stories which are told to the younger
people by their elders and relate to the doings of their ancestors in a
time long ago. Some of these stories are recorded in the present
chapter. A difficulty in the way of giving any clear and readable
account of them is the fact that there are many slightly different
versions of one and the same legend. To some extent the variations are
local, each tribe, and even each portion of a tribe having its own set
of legendary stories. Besides these local variations there are also
individual variations. Two men of the same tribe may relate what is
substantially the same story, yet each chooses his own words and
gestures, and to some extent they may even arrange the incidents
differently.
In the last chapter it was mentioned that there are certain
individuals, known as oko-ǰumu in the North Andaman and oko-paiad in
the South, who are believed to have special knowledge as to the spirits
and as to the magical efficacy of remedies for sickness. It is these
oko-ǰumu also who are the authorities on the legendary lore of the
Andamanese. In the case of magical remedies there is a certain common
stock of beliefs as to the efficacy to be attributed to different
substances, such as leaves of different plants, and on the basis of
these beliefs the oko-ǰumu elaborates the remedies that he uses in
particular cases. Each oko-ǰumu, however, prides himself on being, to
some extent, original. An example of this has been already mentioned.
When a great storm arose an oko-ǰumu of one of the Northern tribes
succeeded in stopping it (in the belief of the natives) by placing a
piece of the crushed stem of the Anadendron creeper under a particular
stone in the sea. On a later occasion another storm arose, and the
successor of the first-mentioned oko-ǰumu was appealed to that he might
exert his powers. He did not simply imitate his predecessor, but he
placed a piece of crushed bark and twigs of the Ficus laccifera in the
sea under a different stone. In very much the same way there is a
common stock of beliefs as to the events that took place in the time of
the ancestors, but each oko-ǰumu builds up on this basis his own
particular set of legends, so that it is rarely that two of them tell
the same story in the same way. An oko-ǰumu may obtain for himself a
reputation by relating legends of the ancestors in a vivid and amusing
way. Such a man would be able to invent new stories by combining
together in his own way some of the traditional incidents. The desire
on the part of each oko-ǰumu to be original and so to enhance his own
reputation is a fertile source of variation in the legends.
This lack of traditional form, which is a very important characteristic
of the Andamanese mythology, may be compared with their lack of
traditional songs. Just as every man composes his own songs, so, within
certain limits, every oko-ǰumu relates in his own way the legends of
his tribe. But whereas every man is a composer of songs, only a certain
number are regarded as having authority to speak on the legends.
Underlying the legends of any tribe there are a certain number of
beliefs or representations with which every native is familiar. It is
on the basis of these that the oko-ǰumu elaborates his own doctrine, if
we may call it so, which he hands on to his followers, who in turn may
become oko-ǰumu and produce further slight modifications of their own.
Thus the legends are continually being changed, though in any one
generation the changes introduced are slight, and it would take a long
time for important changes in belief to be brought about. There is
evidence, however, that a succession of leading men in the A-Pučikwar
tribe have succeeded in introducing a new doctrine as to the weather,
making Bilik the name of a class of beings instead of the name of a
single being, and that this doctrine, while it has not entirely ousted
the former beliefs, has yet succeeded in gaining currency not only in
the A-Pučikwar tribe, but also in the Aka-Ko̱l and O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i tribes.
At the present time it is only possible to recover a small part of the
many different legends with their variants. The introduction of many
new interests into the lives of the natives, through the European
settlement and the many changes it has produced, has caused the ancient
legends to be neglected. Most of the old oko-ǰumu have died without
leaving any followers to take their place. Many of the legends recorded
here are merely what some of the men not specially skilled in legendary
lore can remember of the stories told them in former days by oko-ǰumu
who are now dead.
One feature of the legends that must be pointed out is their
unsystematic nature. The same informant may give, on different
occasions, two entirely different versions of such a thing as the
origin of fire, or the beginning of the human race. The Andamanese, to
all appearance, regard each little story as independent, and do not
consciously compare one with another. They thus seem to be entirely
unconscious of what are obvious contradictions to the student of the
legends. It is necessary to emphasise the fragmentary and unsystematic
nature of the Andaman mythology because Mr Man, in his work on the
Andamanese, has brought together a number of legends from the tribes of
the South Andaman and has combined them into a continuous and fairly
consistent narrative, and has thus, undoubtedly not intentionally,
given a wrong impression to the reader of what the nature of the
disconnected stories really is. While each of the stories included in
Mr Man’s account is derived directly from the natives, it would seem
certain that the arrangement of them into a more or less consistent
narrative is due to Mr Man.
In recording the legends in this chapter, only the English translation
is given. In some cases the legends were translated on the spot and
written down in English. In other cases they were written down in the
native language and then translated. When I was recording the legends I
very frequently had to ask what was meant by a particular statement,
the meaning of which might be quite clear to a native, but which was
obscure to one not accustomed to thinking in the same way as the
natives. In some cases I could obtain no satisfactory explanation, and
such legends are given in this chapter in as nearly as possible an
exact literal translation of the original. In other cases the
explanations given by the natives have been incorporated in the
translation itself.
In order to give the reader a fair idea of the nature of the legends as
they are told, one is here given in the native language (Aka-Čari) with
a word-for-word translation.
A Maia Dik iǰokoduko; o ko̱nmo teč inǰukte̱rto̱ia;
Sir Prawn makes fire; yam leaf catches fire;
ko̱nmo teč bi ikterbie; kete uiǰoko; uiǰokobiko;
yam leaf is dry; that one it burns; he makes a fire;
Maia Dik ubenoba; Maia Totemo emato; uǰokil uektebalo;
Sir Prawn slept; Sir Kingfisher takes; he fire with he runs away
Maia Totemo ǰokobiko; Maia Totemo taǰeo ubiko;
Sir Kingfisher makes a fire; Sir Kingfisher fish (food) cooks;
upetil ubeno; Maia Mite ǰuktebalo uemato.
his belly in he sleeps; Sir Dove runs away taking.
The above translation is hardly comprehensible without a little
explanation. The word iǰoko means “something burns,” the word ubiko
means “he cooks (by roasting).” The compound iǰokobiko may mean either
“he makes a fire and cooks something at it” or it may simply mean “he
makes up a fire (by adding firewood).” The word iǰokoduko has a quite
different meaning, “to produce fire.” The derivation of inǰukte̱rto̱ia is
uncertain, as I am not sure of the proper use of er-to̱ia; it is
translated on the basis of the explanation given me by the man who told
the story. The word ikterbie is descriptive of the dryness of dead
leaves.
A free translation would be as follows: “It was Sir Prawn who first
produced or obtained fire. Some yam leaves, being shrivelled and dry by
reason of the hot weather, caught fire and burnt. The prawn made a fire
with some firewood and went to sleep. The kingfisher stole fire and ran
away with it. He made a fire and cooked some fish. When he had filled
his belly he went to sleep. The dove stole fire from the kingfisher and
ran away.” It is implied that it was the dove who gave the fire to the
ancestors of the Andamanese.
Versions of legends of the origin of fire are given by Mr Portman, in
each of the languages of the Southern group of tribes. [95]
All the legends relate to events that are supposed to have happened in
the past, and deal with the doings of the ancestors of the Andamanese.
In the North Andaman the ancestors are sometimes called Lau t’er-kuro,
i.e. the big spirits, “big” being used in the sense of our word
“chief.” Another term for them is N’a-mai-koloko, from n’ or nio =
they, aka-mai = father, and koloko = people, so that the phrase
literally means “the father people,” or the ancestors. In the South
Andaman the ancestors are sometimes called Čauga tabaŋa, which is the
equivalent of Lau t’er-kuro. Mr Man seems to have misunderstood the
exact meaning of this term. He writes: “Lači Lora-lola, the chief of
the survivors from the Deluge [96], gave, at his death, the name of
Čauga tabaŋa to their descendants.... The Čauga tabaŋa are described as
fine tall men with large beards, and they are said to have been long
lived, but, in other respects and in their mode of living they did not
differ from the present inhabitants. The name seems to have been borne
till comparatively recent times, as a few still living are said to
remember having seen the last of the so-called Čauga tabaŋa [97].”
Mr Man has evidently not realised that the term čauga cannot be applied
to any living Andamanese, but may be applied to every dead one. The
Čauga are the spirits of dead natives, and new Čauga are continually
coming into existence by death. Any person who is of such importance
when alive as to form the subject of legends or stories after his death
may be distinguished (after his death only) as a Čauga tabaŋa. The name
may thus be applied to the purely mythical ancestors of the legends,
and also to the spirits of men recently dead whose memory is preserved
owing to fame acquired in some way when they were alive. It is thus
possible that some of the natives with whom Mr Man formerly conversed
are now Čauga tabaŋa, i.e. big spirits, having been “big men” when they
were alive.
Another name sometimes used in the South Andaman to denote the
ancestors is Tomo-la [98]. This word, however, is sometimes used in the
singular to denote the mythical first man. Its use is thus similar to
that of the name Bilik in the A-Pučikwar tribe, which is used both as
the name of a single mythical being and also as the name of a class of
beings. Only the early ancestors of the Andamanese, i.e. those about
whom the legends are related, can be called Tomo-la.
Among the ancestors who appear in the legends there are a few who bear
names that are used as personal names of men and women at the present
time, and who appear in the legends simply as men and women. The larger
number of the ancestors, however, bear names that are those of species
of animals. In each case the ancestor is identified with the species
which bears the same name. Yet others of the mythical ancestors have
names that are neither personal names at the present day, nor names of
animals. It may perhaps be supposed that in all such cases the name has
some sort of meaning, but in many instances it was not found possible
to discover the meaning with certainty.
When speaking of the ancestors, the natives generally add to the name
the appropriate title. These titles are, in the North Andaman Maia
(Sir) and Mimi (Lady), in Akar-Bale Da (Sir) and In (Lady), and in
Aka-Bea Maia and Čana.
There are legends as to the origin of mankind, i.e., of their own race,
for they did not recognize, until recently, the existence of any men of
other races than their own, calling aliens Lau (spirits). There is,
however, no unanimity in their beliefs as to how mankind originated,
even in any one tribe. An Aka-Bo legend is as follows:
“The first man was J̌utpu [99]. He was born inside the joint of a big
bamboo, just like a bird in an egg [100]. The bamboo split and he came
out. He was a little child. When it rained he made a small hut for
himself and lived in it. He made little bows and arrows. As he grew
bigger he made bigger huts, and bigger bows and arrows. One day he
found a lump of quartz and with it he scarified himself. J̌utpu was
lonely, living all by himself. He took some clay (ko̱t) from a nest of
the white ants and moulded it into the shape of a woman. She became
alive and became his wife. She was called Ko̱t. They lived together at
Teraut-buliu. Afterwards J̌utpu made other people out of clay. These
were the ancestors. J̌utpu taught them how to make canoes and bows and
arrows, and how to hunt and fish. His wife taught the women how to make
baskets and nets and mats and belts, and how to use clay for making
patterns on the body.”
The same story was told me by Aka-J̌eru men, the only difference being
that they gave the name of the place where J̌utpu lived differently,
mentioning a spot in the Aka-J̌eru country.
From the Aka-J̌eru I also obtained what is really another version of the
same legend, though the name of the first ancestor is given
differently. “The first man came out of the buttress of a po̱ičo
(Sterculia) tree, and was called Po̱ičotobut (Sterculia buttress). He
had no wife, so he cohabited with an ant’s nest (ko̱t) and thus obtained
a large number of children. These were the first Andamanese, and
Po̱ičotobut taught them all their arts and customs. Po̱ičotobut lived at
Bo̱ro̱ŋ Buliu (in Aka-J̌eru country).”
The association between the origin of the Andamanese and an ant’s nest
(ko̱t) is retained in another legend, told by an Aka-J̌eru man. “Tarai
(the south-west monsoon) was the first man. His wife was Ko̱t. They
lived at Tarai-era-poŋ [101]. Their children were Tau (the sky), Bo̱to
(wind), Piribi (storm), and Air (the foam on a rough sea).”
An entirely different legend, of which, however, I could not obtain a
detailed version, is also found in the Aka-J̌eru tribe. This is to the
effect that the first living being was Maia Čara [102]. He made the
earth, and caused it to be peopled with inhabitants. He also made the
sun and moon. In the last chapter Čara was mentioned as a mythical
being associated with the sun, with daylight and with fine weather. One
of my informants of the Aka-J̌eru tribe said that Čara had a wife named
Nimi (a common personal name), and that his children were Čeo (knife),
Ino (water), Loto, and Luk. It is Maia Čara, according to one commonly
received account, who makes the daylight every day.
I could not obtain any Aka-Kede legend as to the origin of mankind. One
informant of that tribe said that it was Bilika (the north-east
monsoon) who made the world and the first men and women, but he could
give me no detailed legend.
In the Aka-Ko̱l and A-Pučikwar tribes there are several versions of a
legend that makes the monitor lizard (Varanus salvator) the progenitor
of the Andaman race. In all the versions there is no mention of how the
lizard himself originated. The following was told me by an Aka-Ko̱l man.
“When Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard) was aka-go̱i (i.e. unmarried, but
having completed the initiation ceremonies), he went into the jungle to
hunt pig. He climbed up a Dipterocarpus tree, and got stuck there
[103]. Beyan (civet-cat, Paradoxurus) found him there, stuck in the
tree. She released him and helped him to get down. The two got married.
Their children were the Tomo-la (i.e. the ancestors).”
Another legend telling how the monitor lizard obtained a wife was
related to me on more than one occasion by A-Pučikwar men. “The first
of the ancestors (Tomo-la) was Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard). He lived
at Tomo-la-tog. At first he had no wife. One day, when he was out
fishing, he found a piece of black wood of the kind called ko̱lotat
(Diospyros sp.). He found it in the creek, and brought it to his hut,
where he put it on the little platform over the fire [104]. He sat down
by the fire and set to work over an arrow that he was making. As he
bent over his work he did not see what was happening. By and by he
heard some one laugh, and looked up. Then he saw that the piece of wood
had turned into a woman. He got up and took her down from the platform.
She sat down with him and became his wife. They had a son named Po̱i (a
species of small bird, possibly a woodpecker), and afterwards many
other children. They lived together for a long time at Tomo-la-tog. One
day Ta Pe̱tie went fishing and was drowned in the creek. He turned into
a kara-duku.”
There is some doubt about the translation of the word kara-duku. It is
an Aka-Bea word, although it was used as given above, by an A-Pučikwar
man. Mr Man translates it “cachalot.” Mr Portman says that kara-duku is
“crocodile,” but that the cachalot, the proper name of which is
biriga-ta, is also sometimes called kara-duku [105]. The only authority
for the existence of crocodiles in the Andamans is the statement of Mr
Portman, who says that the natives killed one in the Middle Andaman and
brought the bones to him. Although I was in many of the creeks of the
Andamans at different times I never saw a crocodile, and none of the
other officers of the Settlement, who have repeatedly explored a large
part of the islands, ever seems to have seen one, so that the one
recorded by Mr Portman may possibly have been a single one that had
come oversea from the mainland of Asia.
Another A-Pučikrwa account of the origin of the first woman Ko̱lotat, is
as follows: “At first there were no women, only men. A man called
Ko̱lotat came to live in the A-Pučikwar country. Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor
Lizard) caught him and cut off his genitals and made him into a woman.
She became his wife. Their children were the first of the ancestors
(Tomo-la).”
Another account given by members of the A-Pučikwar tribe is that the
first man was Tomo, or Tomo-la. One version that I heard is that Tomo
made the world and peopled it with the ancestors. He made the moon
(Puki) who is his wife. Tomo and his wife invented all the arts of the
Andamanese and taught them to the ancestors. After his death Tomo went
to live in the sky, where he now is. It is Tomo who sends the fine
weather, while Bilik sends the bad weather. In the world where Tomo now
lives it is always daylight and is always fine. When men die their
spirits go up to the sky and live with Tomo. The man who gave me this
version said that he did not know how Tomo originated, but was quite
sure that he was not made by Bilik. Tomo came first and Bilik came
afterwards. The Andamanese are all the children of Tomo [106].
In disagreement with this story, another man of the same tribe said
that Tomo was made by Bilik. He (i.e., Tomo) had a wife Mita (Dove),
and they were the ancestors of the Andamanese. Yet another informant
said: “Ta Tomo was the first man. He made bows and arrows and canoes.
His canoes were made of the wood of the Pandanus tree. Mita (Dove) was
his wife. It was she who first made nets and baskets and discovered the
uses of red paint and white clay.” When I asked how Tomo and his wife
originated my informant replied that he did not know.
A species of bird (perhaps a woodpecker), called Po̱i in A-Pučikwar and
Ko̱io in Aka-Ko̱l, is often said to have been the son of Tomo. I was once
told that Ko̱io was the first of the Andamanese, from whom they are all
descended, and that his wife was Mita. Another informant said that
Pe̱tie (Monitor Lizard) was the first man and Mita was his wife, while
still another stated that Ta Mita (Sir Dove) was the progenitor of the
race, making the dove male instead of female. These different versions
will give some idea of the contradictory nature of the statements of
the Andamanese. All of them come from only two tribes, the A-Pučikwar
and the Aka-Ko̱l.
From the Akar-Bale tribe I obtained the following legend. “Puluga made
the first of the ancestors. He made one man and one woman called Nyali
and Irap [107]. He gave them fire, and taught them how to hunt and
fish, and how to make bows and arrows and baskets and nets. The place
where they lived is called Irap because they lived there [108].”
Another Akar-Bale version is that the first man was Da Duku (Sir
Monitor Lizard), and that his wife was In Bain (Lady Civet-cat).
Mr E. H. Man, in his account of the South Andaman, says that there are
a few discrepancies in their accounts of the creation and origin of the
human species, but in the main features all the natives with whom he
spoke are agreed. The world was created by Puluga, who then made a man
named Tomo, the first of the human race. Tomo was black, like the
present Andamanese, but was much taller and bearded. Puluga showed him
the various fruit-trees in the jungle, which then existed only at
Wota-emi, a spot in the country of the A-Pučikwar tribe. The wife of
Tomo was Čana Elewadi (Lady Crab), and as to her origin there are
different legends. According to some, Puluga created her after he had
taught Tomo how to sustain life; others say that Tomo saw her swimming
near his home and called to her, whereupon she landed and lived with
him; while a third story represents her as coming pregnant to Kyd
Island, where she gave birth to several male and female children, who
subsequently became the progenitors of the present race. Tomo had two
sons and two daughters by Čana Elewadi; the names of the former were
Biro-la and Bo̱ro-la, and of the latter Rie-la and Čo̱rmi-la.
A story that tells how Tomo came to his end states that one day, while
hunting, he fell into the creek called Yara-tig-ǰig and was drowned. He
was at once transformed into a kara-duku (which Mr Man translates as
“cachalot”). Čana Elewadi, ignorant of the accident that had befallen
her husband, went in a canoe with some of her grandchildren to
ascertain the cause of his continued absence; on seeing them, Kara-duku
upset their skiff and drowned his wife and most of her companions. She
became a small crab, of a description still named after her, elewadi,
and the others were transformed into lizards (duku). Another version of
this story is that, wearied with an unsuccessful day’s hunting, Tomo
went to the shore, where he found a čidi (Pinna) shell-fish; while
playing with it, it fastened on him, and he was unable to free himself
until a baian (Paradoxurus) seized the čidi and liberated him at the
expense of one of his members. Shortly after this he saw his wife and
some of their children coming after him in a canoe; unwilling that they
should become aware of the misfortune that had befallen him he upset
the canoe, drowning its occupants and himself. He then became
kara-duku, and the others duku, which are now plentiful in the jungles
[109].
In some of the preceding legends reference is made to Biliku or Puluga.
There is a very general belief, in all parts of the islands, that in
the time of the ancestors, Biliku or Puluga lived on earth. Each tribe
has at least one spot in its territory that is pointed out as the place
where Biliku (or Puluga) lived. In some tribes there are three or four
such places, each of which is claimed as the original home of Biliku by
the people living in the neighbourhood. In many cases the name of the
spot contains a reference to the legend, as Puluga l’od-baraiǰ (the
village of Puluga) in Akar-Bale or Biliku era-poŋ (the cave of Biliku)
in the North Andaman.
I was able to obtain a few legends relating to the time when Biliku
lived on earth, though there were probably many more that I was not
fortunate enough to hear.
The following is an Aka-J̌eru legend:
“In the time of the ancestors Biliku lived at Ar-ko̱l. One day the
people caught a turtle and brought it to the camp. Biliku was sitting
there. They asked her if she would eat some of it. She said ‘No.’ They
put the meat in the roof of the hut and went away. When they had gone
Biliku ate the whole turtle. Then she went to sleep. The people came
back and found the turtle gone. They said ‘Biliku has eaten it.’ They
left the camp and all went to Tebi-čiro. They left Biliku asleep. Some
of the people went to hunt for turtle. Their canoe passed near Ar-ko̱l.
Biliku saw the people in the canoe. She called to them and asked to be
taken with them. The people refused saying ‘You ate up all the turtle.’
Biliku had a round stone and several be shells (pearl shells). She
threw the shells at the people in the canoe. The first shell did not
hit them but came back and fell at her feet; and so also with the
second. Then Biliku got very angry and threw a third time. The shell
struck the canoe and killed all the people in it. The canoe and its
occupants became a reef of rocks that is still there. The other people
at Tebi-čiro called across to Biliku saying ‘Come over here.’ She
answered ‘Very well! I am coming.’ She took the stone that she had and
put it in the sea, and it floated. She got on to it to cross over. When
she had got half way across Biliku and her stone sank in the sea. They
became two big rocks that are there still.” This legend refers to the
west coast of the North Andaman. The pearl shells that Biliku throws
seem to be lightning, and the round stone the one that she rolls about
to make thunder.
A few other statements about Biliku and Tarai from the four tribes of
the North Andaman are given below just as they were taken down in my
note-books.
(1) “Biliku lived at Pura-’ra-poŋ in the time of the ancestors. Her
husband was Pe̱rǰido and her children Totaimo, Mite (cicada) and Tarai.
She made the sun and the moon. It was she who first invented all the
things that are now made and used by women, such as baskets, nets,
etc., and it was she who discovered fire, and who first discovered the
use of edible roots such as ko̱nmo and mino (two species of Dioscorea).”
(2) “Biliku used to live at Čaura. She had a husband Tarai and a son
Pe̱rǰido, and a daughter Mite. She used to live only on certain
vegetable foods, lo̱ito, pata, bui, čo, ko̱nmo and mino and others. It
was Biliku who made the earth (the forest, ti-miku). She began at
Čaura.”
(3) “Biliku lived at Ar-Ko̱l in the time of the ancestors. Her husband
was Tarai and their children were the birds, To̱ro̱i, Taka, Čoto̱t,
Poruatoko, Kelil, Mite, Čo̱pčura, Benye, Biratkoro, Čereo, Milidu,
Bobelo, Ko̱lo, and Teo.” (Aka-J̌eru.)
(4) “Biliku lived at Poroket. She was unmarried. She had a son Pe̱rǰido,
and her other children were To̱ro̱i, Čelene, Čoto̱t and Čerei. (These four
are the names of birds.) It was Pe̱rǰido who invented all the arts of
the Andamanese such as their bows and arrows, etc.” (Aka-Bo?)
(5) “Biliku used to live at Peč-meo with her husband To̱ro̱i (a bird).
She used to eat lo̱ito, and when anyone else ate that root she was
angry. Tarai lived at Čaroŋa with his wife Kelil (a bird). He ate only
mikulu.” (Aka-Ko̱ra.)
(6) “Tarai has very long legs and a short body. He used to live on a
small island beyond Interview Island, which is now submerged. When
Tarai goes to sleep he breathes very heavily and this makes the wind.”
The next is an Aka-Kede legend. “In the days of the ancestors Bilika
lived at Purum-at-čape in the Aka-Kede country, with her husband
Po̱ro̱kul. One day Po̱ro̱kul was out hunting. He returned with a pig that
he had killed and came to the creek on the other side of which was his
home (Co̱ti-te̱r-buli Buliu). Laden as he was with the pig he could not
swim across the creek. Bilika was sleeping, but her children were
playing near and saw their father on the other side of the creek. They
ran and told their mother that their father was coming but could not
cross the creek. Bilika went and lay down on one bank of the creek and
stretched out her leg so that it reached the other bank. Po̱ro̱kul walked
across her leg and so reached home.”
While it is clear from this legend that Bilika was of super-human size,
the same was also true of her husband, if we may judge from another
legend. “Po̱ro̱kul made for himself a bow (of the large southern
pattern), with which to shoot pig. At this time the sky was low down
near the earth, only just above the tops of the trees. When Po̱ro̱kul had
finished his bow he lifted it upright. The top of it struck the sky and
lifted it up to its present position where it has remained ever since.”
In another legend from another part of the Aka-Kede tribe Bilika is
spoken of as being male. “Bilika lived at Po̱ro̱ŋ-et-čo with his wife
Mite. They had a child. The ancestors ate Bilika’s food, lo̱ito and kata
and other plants. Bilika was very angry. He used to smell their mouths
to see if they had eaten his food. When he found a man or woman who had
done so he would cut his throat. The ancestors were very angry with
Bilika, because he killed the men and women when they ate his foods.
They all came together and killed Bilika and his wife Mite. Maia Burto
(a species of fish) took the child (of Bilika) away to the north-east.”
Owing to my lack of knowledge of the Aka-Kede language there are some
points of the above legend that remain obscure. I think that the child
of Bilika is also named Bilika, and that it is he (or she) who now
lives in the north-east and sends the storms. The plants (lo̱ito, kata,
etc.), called here the “food” of Bilika, are those mentioned in the
last chapter as specially belonging to Bilika, who is angry when the
natives eat them. As regards the name, Mite, of Bilika’s wife, I do not
know whether this is the name of the bronze-winged dove, or of the
cicada. In some of the Andamanese languages the names of these two are
very similar, the only difference being a very slight one in the way of
pronouncing the two vowels.
The A-Pučikwar people who live on the east coast of Baratang Island say
that in the beginning the ancestors lived at a place called Wota-emi,
and Bilik lived opposite to them across the strait at a place called
To̱l-l’oko-tima. In a rock at Wota-emi there is a large peculiarly
shaped hollow. This is said to be where Bilik used to sit when he was
on earth.
An Akar-Bale legend is as follows. “In the days of the ancestors Puluga
lived at J̌ila off the east coast of Henry Lawrence Island and the
ancestors lived at Puluga l’od-baraiǰ (the village of Puluga) on the
main island just opposite to J̌ila. Puluga was always getting angry with
the ancestors, because they dug up yams and ate čakan (Entada scandens)
and barata (Caryota sobolifera). When he was angry he used to destroy
their huts and property. So the people sent him out of the world,
saying ‘We do not want you here. You are always angry with us.’ Puluga
went away to the north-east.”
It is worth while to note that J̌ila is north-east from Puluga
l’od-baraiǰ, just as To̱l-l’oko-tima is north-east from Wota-emi. In
both cases there is a narrow strait between the place where the
ancestors lived and the home of Puluga or Bilik.
There are a number of different legends that relate how the ancestors
first obtained fire [110]. In many of these legends there is a
reference to Biliku or Puluga. A common statement in the North Andaman
is that “Fire was stolen from Biliku by Maia Tiritmo (Sir Kingfisher).”
Some of the legends give further details. An Aka-Čari legend is as
follows:
“Biliku had a red stone and a pearl shell (be). She struck them
together and obtained fire. She collected firewood and made a fire. She
went to sleep. Mite (the bronze-winged dove) came and stole fire. He
made a fire for himself. He gave fire to all the people in the village.
Afterwards fire was given to all the places. Each village had its own.”
The next is an Aka-J̌eru version.
“In the days of the ancestors they had no fire. Biliku had fire. While
Biliku slept Maia Lirčitmo (Sir Kingfisher) came and stole fire. As he
was taking the fire Biliku awoke and saw him. Lirčitmo swallowed the
fire. Biliku took a pearl shell (be) and threw it at Lirčitmo and cut
off his head. The fire came out (of his neck). The ancestors got the
fire. Lirčitmo became a bird.”
The next is also, I believe, an Aka-J̌eru story. “Maia Tiritmo (Sir
Kingfisher) lived at Tolepar Buruin. He had no fire. When he caught
fish he had no fire with which to cook it. He went to the place where
Čo̱kčura (heron) lived. There was no fire there. Tiritmo took some
rotten wood of the piń tree and hit it on a rock, and thus made fire.
He gave fire to Čo̱kčura. Čo̱kčura gave fire to Totemo (a species of
kingfisher). Totemo gave it to all the others.”
A slightly different and less detailed version of the same story is as
follows:
“Tiritmo made fire. Totemo stole fire (from Tiritmo) and gave it to
Mo̱ičo (Rail). Mo̱ičo gave fire to all the people.”
The next version, which was taken down in Aka-J̌eru, I did not fully
understand.
“Some one shot an arrow. The arrow hit the hill of fire. Tiriń (a
species of kingfisher) found the arrow. It was on fire. He took the
fire to his camp. He would not give fire to any one. The others asked
him. They went to their homes. At night they came to Tiriń’s hut and
stole fire. They went away, each to his own place.”
There is a certain amount of obscurity about two other versions, which
are given in a translation as nearly literal as possible. “Maia Dik
(Sir Prawn) made fire. Some ko̱nmo (yam) leaves caught fire, being dry.
Maia Dik made a fire. Maia Dik slept. Maia Totemo (Sir Kingfisher)
stole fire and ran away. Maia Totemo made a fire. He cooked fish. When
he had eaten, he slept. Maia Mite (Sir Dove) stole fire (from Totemo)
and ran away.”
The other is as follows. “Piribi got fire from a stone. He threw fire
at Bilika. It set some ko̱nmo (yam) leaves on fire. Čo̱rolo (Parrot) got
fire (from the burning leaves). He gave it to the ancestors.”
These two legends were taken down in Aka-Čari, but they are perhaps
really Aka-Ko̱ra or Aka-J̌eru stories. I have the word piribi in my notes
as meaning a storm, but the translation is doubtful.
The next is an Aka-Kede version of what is the most widespread of the
legends.
“The ancestors had no fire. Bilika had fire. The ancestors tried to
steal fire from Bilika. Lirtit (Kingfisher) went one night while Bilika
was sleeping and stole fire. Bilika awoke and saw him going away with
the fire. She threw a pearl shell (ba) at him, which cut off his wings
and his tail. Lirtit dived into the water and swam with the fire to
Bet-’ra-kudu and gave it to Te̱pe. Te̱pe gave fire to Mite (the
bronze-winged dove). Mite gave it to the others [111].”
An Aka-Kede legend of the origin of the sun may conveniently be given
in this place, as it is connected with the possession of fire by
Bilika. “Bilika made fire of purum wood. One day, when she was very
angry, she started throwing fire about. One large fire-brand she threw
into the sky, and there it became the sun.” This legend explains the
name of the place Purum-at-čape, at which Bilika is said to have lived
when on earth. Purum is the name of a tree, not identified; at means
either “fire” or “fire-wood,” and čape means a village or a hut. The
whole word therefore means “Purum fire village.”
I did not obtain any legend of the origin of fire from the Oko̱-J̌uwo̱i
and Aka-Ko̱l tribes, but a version from each of these tribes has been
given by Mr Portman. A translation of Mr Portman’s Oko̱-J̌uwo̱i story is
as follows [112]. “Mo̱m Mirit [113] stole a fire-brand from
Kuro-t’on-mika while Bilik was sleeping. He gave the brand to the late
Leč, who then made fire at Karat-tatak-emi.”
Mr Portman’s Aka-Ko̱l story is somewhat obscure. “Bilik was sleeping at
To̱l-l’oko-tima. Luratut (Kingfisher) took away fire to Oko-emi. Ko̱lotat
went to Min-to̱ŋ-ta (taking with him fire from Oko-emi). At Min-to̱ŋ-ta
the fire went out. Ko̱lotat broke up the charred firewood and made fire
again (by blowing up the embers). They (the people there) became alive.
Owing to the fire they became alive. The ancestors (Jaŋil) thus got
fire at Min-to̱ŋ-ta village.”
From the A-Pučikwar tribe I only obtained one version of the fire
legend. “When the ancestors lived at Wota-emi, Bilik lived at
To̱l-l’oko-tima across the strait. In those days the ancestors had no
fire. Bilik took some wood of the tree called pe̱rat and broke it and
made fire for himself. Luratut (Kingfisher) came to To̱l-l’oko-tima
while Bilik was sleeping and stole some fire. Bilik awoke and saw
Luratut. He (Bilik) took up a lighted brand and threw it at Luratut. It
hit him in the back of the neck and burnt him. Luratut gave the fire to
the people at Wota-emi. Bilik was very angry about this and went away
to live in the sky.”
The kingfisher of the story (Alcedo beavani?) has a patch of bright red
feathers on its neck. This is where it was burnt by the brand thrown by
Bilik.
Mr Portman gives a slightly different version from the same tribe
[114]. “Bilik was sleeping at To̱l-l’oko-tima. Luratut went to bring
fire. He caught hold of the fire, and in doing so burnt Bilik. Bilik
awoke and seized some fire. He hit Luratut with the fire. Then he hit
Tarčal (a fish) with the fire. Čalter (another species of kingfisher)
caught hold of the fire. He gave it to the ancestors at Wota-emi. The
ancestors made fires.”
From the Akar-Bale tribe I obtained the following legend: “The people
had no fire. Dim-do̱ri (a fish) went and fetched fire from
J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu (the place of departed spirits). He came back and threw
the fire at the people and burnt them, and marked them all. The people
ran into the sea and became fishes. Dim-do̱ri went to shoot them with
his bow and arrows, and he also became a fish.” This story is supposed
to account for the bright colouring of certain species of fish.
Mr Portman gives a somewhat similar version from the same tribe [115].
“Dim-do̱ra (a fish), a very long time ago, at Keri-l’oŋ-tower, was
bringing fire from Puluga’s platform (fireplace). He, taking the fire,
burnt everybody with it. Bolub and Tarko̱r and Biličau fell into the sea
and became fishes. They took the fire to Rokwa-l’ar-toŋa village and
made fires there.”
Another Akar-Bale legend is that fire was given to the first ancestors
(Da Duku and In Bain) by Puluga. Still another is that fire was
obtained by the ancestors from Aga, the skink (Mabuia tytleri). The
mist that is often seen hanging over the jungle in small patches, after
rain or at dawn, is said to be the smoke of Aga’s fire. An island in
the Archipelago is called Aga l’od-baraij, Aga’s village.
Mr Portman gives an Aka-Bea legend, which, however, relates that the
events took place at Wota-emi in the A-Pučikwar country [116].
“Puluga was asleep at To̱l-l’oko-tima. Luratut came, stealing fire. The
fire burnt Puluga. Puluga awoke. Puluga seized some fire. Taking the
fire he burnt Luratut with it. Luratut took the fire. He burnt
Tar-čeker (another kind of kingfisher) with it in Wota-emi village. The
ancestors lit fires. They (the ancestors) were the Tomo-la.”
Mr Man gives three different versions of legends as to the origin of
fire. According to the first of these, Puluga, after he had made the
first man, Tomo, gave him fire and taught him its use. Puluga obtained
fire by stacking in alternate layers two kinds of wood known as co̱r and
ber, and then bidding the sun to come and sit on or near the pile until
she ignited it, after which she returned to her place in the sky [117].
The second version is that Puluga came to Tomo with a spirit named Lači
Puŋa Ablola to instruct Tomo, who at his direction, prepared a pyre and
then struck it, on which the fire was kindled and Puŋa Ablola proceeded
to teach him how to cook food [118]. This legend contains an obvious
contradiction. Lači Puŋa Ablola, as is shown by the name itself (Lači =
the late), is the name of some one who is supposed to have lived and
died and so become a spirit. Yet at the same time Tomo is supposed to
have been the first of the Andamanese. There is the possibility,
however, that this inconsistency is due not to the natives themselves,
but to Mr Man’s transcription. It is possible that the legend is that
fire was discovered and was given to the ancestors (the Tomo) by a
person who, being dead, is now Lači Puŋa Ablola, but who was then alive
and one of the ancestors (Tomo) themselves.
A third legend about fire given by Mr Man is associated by him with
another legend about a flood that once overwhelmed the ancestors.
According to Mr Man’s version the fires were all extinguished by the
flood, so that the few survivors were left without fire. “At this
juncture one of their recently deceased friends appeared in their midst
in the form of a bird named Luratut. Seeing their distress he flew up
to Mo̱ro, the sky, where he discovered Puluga seated beside his fire; he
thereupon seized and attempted to carry away in his beak a burning log,
but the heat, or weight, or both, rendered the task impossible, and the
blazing brand fell on Puluga, who, incensed with pain, hurled it at the
intruder; happily for those concerned, the missile missed its mark and
fell near the very spot where the survivors were deploring their
condition. As Luratut alighted in their midst at the same moment, he
gained the full credit for having removed the chief cause of their
distress [119].”
We may now consider a group of legends that relate how a great
catastrophe overwhelmed the ancestors. In many of the versions the
legend relates how the ancestors were transformed into animals. Some of
the legends are connected with Biliku or Puluga and others are
connected with the first discovery of fire. Beginning with the North
Andaman, the following is, I believe, an Aka-J̌eru version. “Mimi Čara
once broke some firewood in the evening (while the cicada was singing).
A great storm came and killed many people, who were turned into fishes
and birds. The water rose up till it covered the trees. Mimi Čara and
Mimi Kota took the fire and went up the hill to the cave at Ŋaram. They
carried the fire under a cooking-pot. They kept the fire alight in the
cave, until the storm was over.”
Another Aka-J̌eru legend was taken down hurriedly and the full details
were not obtained. “The people made a noise in the evening when Mite
(the cicada) was singing. Mite went to see her mother Biliku. Her
mother saw her eyes and face. She looked bad. Her eyes were red (with
weeping). Biliku was very angry. There was a big storm and heavy rain.
Biliku threw her pearl shells (lightning). She went mad. She destroyed
the whole world. Biliku went up to live in the sky. The earth was bare
(literally, empty). One day Biliku dropped a Dipterocarpus seed from
the sky. Out of this all the different kinds of tree grew, and the
earth was again covered with forest.” There was more of the legend,
which I was unable at the time to understand, and which I did not hear
again. My informant added “It was on this occasion that Maia Taolu
saved the fire.”
An Aka-Čari legend relates how the birds and beasts and fishes arose.
“Maia Dik (Sir Prawn) once got angry and threw fire at the people (the
ancestors). They all turned into birds and fishes. The birds flew into
the jungle. The fishes jumped into the sea. Maia Dik [120] himself
became a large prawn which is still called by the same name.” In
connection with this legend it must be remembered that it was Maia Dik,
according to one legend, who first discovered the use of fire. One
version of the story said that he made fire by striking a piece of
paraŋo wood. Then he threw the burning wood about amongst the ancestors
and they turned into birds and fishes.
An Aka-J̌eru version is very similar. “The people were all asleep. Maia
Ko̱lo (Sir Sea-eagle) came and threw fire amongst them. They awoke in a
fright and all ran in different directions. Some ran into the sea and
became fishes and turtle; others ran into the jungle and became birds.”
The Aka-Kede version of the catastrophe that overtook the ancestors is
as follows. “It was at the place called Čilpet. The people collected a
lot of honey. They refused to give any to Ko̱po-tera-wat (a bird, not
identified). The latter got very angry, and in the evening, when the
cicadæ were singing he made a great noise and disturbed their song.
Then there arose a great storm, and it rained very heavily, and the sea
rose over the land. It rose very rapidly till only the top of a big
Dipterocarpus tree showed above the water. The people took refuge in
the branches of this tree. Mima Mite (Lady Dove) managed to rescue some
fire and keep it alight under a cooking pot. The waters at length
subsided. Then the people did not know how to get down from the tree.
Mima Čarami-lebek made a long piece of string and with this she lowered
the people safely to the ground.” The čarami-lebek, which was not
identified, is a species of bird that lives, so the natives say, only
at the top of the very tallest trees of the forest.
An Aka-Ko̱l version of the same legend is as follows: “At first there
were no birds in the jungle and no fish in the sea. The ancestors were
playing one evening and making a noise while the peti (cicada) was
singing. Then Bilik got angry and sent a great cyclone. All the people
were turned into birds and fishes and turtles and jungle beasts.”
There is an A-Pučikwar legend that, in the days of the ancestors, there
was a big cyclone. There was a flood at Wota-emi and the water rose up
over the trees. Some of the ancestors climbed up into a big
Dipterocarpus tree and remained there till the waters had subsided. I
was not able to hear any more detailed version of the legend.
The following legend explaining how the ancestors were turned into
animals was told me by an A-Pučikwar man, but it is probably really of
Akar-Bale origin.
“It was in the days of the ancestors. Ta Ko̱lwo̱t (Sir Tree-lizard) went
over to a big meeting at Teb-ǰuru (in the Archipelago). There was a lot
of dancing. Ko̱lwo̱t decided to give a big dancing party of his own. He
invited everybody and they all came to his place. Ko̱lwo̱t danced a great
deal. He began to get wild. All the people were afraid, because he was
very strong. They caught hold of him by the arms. Ko̱lwo̱t got very
angry. He threw the people from him. He threw them so violently that
some fell in the sea and became fishes and turtle. Others fell on
different islands and became birds and animals. No one could hold
Ko̱lwo̱t. At last Berep (a species of crab) caught hold of his arm and
would not let go. And thus Berep stopped him. Before this there had
been no birds in the jungles nor any fish in the sea.”
A more complete version of this story was obtained from the Akar-Bale
tribe. “Da Tigbul (Sir Dugong) took all the people to dance at Kwaičo.
In Bain (Lady Civet-cat) told Da Kwo̱ko̱l (Sir Tree-lizard) that people
were coming from Tar-mugu to dance and that Da Karami [121] would
quarrel with him. Da Kwo̱ko̱l replied ‘Oh! I don’t care. I can fight all
those people easily enough.’ All the people came together for the dance
and Karami quarrelled with Kwo̱ko̱l. The latter got very angry. The
people were afraid. Tigbul (Dugong) caught hold of Kwo̱ko̱l by the arm.
Kwo̱ko̱l threw him from him with such force that Tigbul fell into the sea
and became a dugong. Then Kočurag-boa caught hold of Kwo̱ko̱l and Kwo̱ko̱l
threw him into the jungle [122]. Kwo̱ko̱l threw all the people into the
sea or into the jungle and they became birds and beasts and fishes. No
one could hold him. Da Kwo̱ko̱l went away to Teb-ǰuru. The people told Da
Berag (Sir Crab) what had happened at Kwaičo and how no one could hold
Da Kwo̱ko̱l. Da Berag went after him to Teb-ǰuru. Da Kwo̱ko̱l had covered
himself with ko̱iob (red paint) [123]. Da Berag pretended that he wanted
some paint to put on his upper lip, saying that he was sick. There was
no more red paint in the place, so Da Kwo̱ko̱l said ‘You had better come
and take some off me.’ Da Berag put his nose to Kwo̱ko̱l’s arm as though
to get some paint, and bit deeply into Kwo̱ko̱l’s shoulder. Kwo̱ko̱l could
not get loose, and so he died. The people at Teb-ǰuru attacked Da Berag
and beat him. They could not kill him, because his skin was too hard,
so they threw him into the sea. When Kwo̱ko̱l’s mother, Kegŋa, came and
found her son dead she was very angry. She wept for a long time. Then
she went into the jungle and cut the plant to̱kul which belongs to
Puluga. Puluga was angry because the to̱kul was cut and sent a big storm
which killed Kegŋa and all the other people in that place.”
Mr Man records another version of this legend.
“To explain the origin of certain fish, they say that one day before
the Deluge, Maia Ko̱lwo̱t went to visit an encampment of the Tomola
situated in the Archipelago. While engaged in his song the women,
through inattention to his instructions, marred the effect of the
chorus, so, to punish them, he seized his bow, whereupon the whole
party in terror fled in all directions; some escaping into the sea were
changed into dugongs, porpoises, sharks, and various other fish which
till then had not been seen [124].”
Mr Man gives still another version of the same story. “One day, at the
commencement of the rainy season, a tomola named Berebi came to visit
Ko̱lwo̱t’s mother, Čana Erep, with the express intention of seeing her
son, of whom he was extremely jealous. When he appeared Berebi
treacherously bit him in the arm, but his teeth became fixed in the
flesh and he was therefore unable to detach himself from his victim,
whose friends promptly avenged his murder, and disposed of the corpses
by throwing them into the sea. (Ko̱lwo̱t, after death, was transformed
into a species of tree-lizard, which is still named after him, and
Berebi became a fish called Koŋo, which is armed with a row of
poisonous barbs in its back.) The bereaved mother, in her rage, grief
and despair, committed various acts, against which Tomo had been warned
by Puluga, and while so doing incited others to follow her example by
the following words:—
e, e, e, dia ra-gumul l’ab-dala,
e, e, e, ŋul kaǰa piǰ pugatken,
e, e, e, ŋul čoaken toaiken,
e, e, e, ŋul boarato aga-kolaken,
e, e, e, ŋul gono boaŋken,
e, e, e, ŋul toŋ čoara boaŋken,
e, e, e, ŋig arlot pulaiǰoken.
The translation of which is:—
e, e, e (sobbing)— My grown-up handsome son,
,, ,, ,, ,, Burn the wax,
,, ,, ,, ,, Grind the seed of the čakan (Entada),
,, ,, ,, ,, Destroy the barata (Caryota),
,, ,, ,, ,, Dig up the gono (yam),
,, ,, ,, ,, Dig up the čati (yam),
,, ,, ,, ,, Destroy everything.
Thereupon Puluga was exceeding wroth, and sent the flood, that which
destroyed all living things with the exception of two men and two
women.
“This tradition is preserved in the following lines:—
Keledoat ibaji lar čora,
Ra-gumul ab-gorga en ig-boadi
Ra-gumul le liga koarna
Ra-gumul ab-gorka
Toala arbo eb dagan čoarpo.
The meaning of which is:—
Bring the boat to the beach
I will see your fine grown-up son,
The grown-up son who threw the youths (into the sea)
The fine grown-up son,
My adze is rusty, I will stain my lips with his blood.
In this, as in all their songs and chants, a good deal is left to the
imagination, but from their explanations which have been given by the
aborigines, the following appear to afford some light on the
subject:—Berebi, being jealous of the renown Ko̱lwo̱t had won for himself
by his numerous accomplishments and great strength, took advantage of
meeting him and his mother one day on the water to ask them to let him
enter their boat. On their complying with his request, he provided
himself with a rusty adze and hone, remarking on the rusty condition of
the former; then taking Ko̱lwo̱t by the arm he sniffed it from the wrist
to the shoulder as if admiring the development of the muscles; while
doing so he muttered the threat of staining his lips with blood, which
he shortly after fulfilled in the manner already described [125].”
As the songs given in this legend are in the Akar-Bale language
(Southern dialect), it is probable that the legend is an Akar-Bale one.
It is really another version of the legend already given.
Another Akar-Bale story tells how the first ancestors Duku, the monitor
lizard, and Bain the civet-cat, managed to keep the fire alight when a
flood overwhelmed them. “One day in the time of the ancestors there
came a great storm, and the water rose over the land. The rain put out
the fires. Da Duku (Sir Monitor Lizard) took a smouldering log and
tried to climb up a tree with it. He could not climb with the fire in
his hand. His wife In Bain (Lady Civet-cat) took the fire from him and
took it up to the top of a hill and there kept it alight till the rain
stopped and the water went away. The hill is called Bain l’it-čapa
(Bain’s fire) to the present day.” The hill is a rather steep-sided
hill of no great height in Havelock Island.
Mr Portman [126] connects the story of the flood with the story of the
dispersion of the ancestors over the islands. Referring to the names of
the tribes he says, “The Andamanese state that these names were given
to the different tribes by Maia Tomo-la when they were dispersed after
a cataclysm. They have a tradition that this group of tribes was once
all one tribe, and that the Andaman Islands were much larger than at
present. Some great cataclysm occurred during which part of the islands
subsided and many aborigines were drowned, the remainder being
separated into different territories as at present by the orders of
Maia Tomo-la, apparently the chief at that time of the collected tribe.
(The above is of course a matter-of-fact version of the fanciful and
impossible legends of the Andamanese.)”
The dispersion legend in the South Andaman is connected with the name
of the A-Pučikwar tribe. The name (of which the Aka-Bea equivalent is
Aka-Boǰig-yab) means “those who talk the original language,” it being
believed that the A-Pučikwar language was the one originally spoken by
the ancestors.
The only version of the dispersion legend that I heard was from the
Aka-Kede tribe. It was to the effect that Bilika once seized all the
ancestors and put them in a netted bag (such as the natives use for
carrying small objects of various kinds). She (or he) took them out a
few at a time and put them in different parts of the country, where
their descendants have been ever since.
Mr Man speaks of a legend of how the tribes came to be dispersed over
the islands. From his account it would seem that there were two
different dispersions, one before the Deluge, and a second after it. Mr
Man’s account is as follows. “Tomo lived to a great age, but even
before his death his offspring became so numerous that their home could
no longer accommodate them. At Puluga’s bidding they were furnished
with all necessary weapons, implements, and fire, and then scattered in
pairs all over the country. When this exodus occurred Puluga provided
each party with a distinct dialect. It would almost seem that, without
straining the legend to suit facts, we might discern in this a faint
echo of the Biblical account of the confusion of tongues and dispersion
at Babel [127].”
“Consequent on the disappearance of Tomo and his wife, the duties of
headship over the community at Wota-emi devolved on one of their
grandchildren, named Ko̱lwo̱t, who was distinguished by being the first
to spear and catch turtles. The tomola remained on the islands long
after Tomo’s transformation, but after Ko̱lwo̱t’s death, according to one
legend, they grew disobedient, and as Puluga ceased to visit them,
became more and more remiss in their observance of the commands given
at the creation. At last Puluga’s anger burst forth, and, without any
warning, he sent a great flood that covered the whole land, and
destroyed all living. Four persons (two men, Lo̱ra-lola and Po̱i-lola,
and two women, Ka-lola and Rima-lola), who happened to be in a canoe
when the catastrophe occurred, were able to effect an escape. When the
waters subsided, they found themselves near Wota-emi, where they landed
and discovered that every living thing on earth had perished; but
Puluga re-created the animals, birds, etc. [128].”
“When, for the second time in their history, their numbers had
increased to so great an extent that it became impossible for them to
remain together in one spot, an exodus, similar to the first, took
place; each party being furnished with fire and every other essential,
started in a different direction, and on settling down adopted a new
and distinct dialect. They each received a tribal name, and from them
have sprung the various tribes still existing on the islands [129].”
In the Southern tribes there is a legend to account for the origin of
night. The following version was obtained from the A-Pučikwar tribe.
“In the early days of the world, in the time of the ancestors, there
was no night; it was always day. Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard) went
into the jungle to dig up yams. He found some yams. He also found some
resin (teki), and a cicada (ro̱to). He brought them to the camp of the
ancestors at Wota-emi. He sat down and the people came round him. Ta
Pe̱tie took the cicada and rubbed it between his hands and crushed it.
As he did this the cicada uttered its cry. Then the day went away and
it was dark. It remained dark for several days. The ancestors came
together and tried to get back the day. They made torches of resin, and
danced and sang songs. First Kotare (a bird) sang a song, but he could
not get back the daylight. Then Bumu (a beetle?) sang, but the day
would not come. Then Pecero̱l (the bulbul, Otocompsia emeria) sang, and
after him Ko̱io (a bird), but both in vain. Then Ko̱ŋoro (a species of
ant) sang a song and morning came. After that, day and night followed
one another alternately.”
A similar legend was obtained from the Akar-Bale tribe. “Da Teŋat [130]
lived at Golugma Bud. He went fishing one day and got only one small
fish of the kind called čelau (Glyphidodon sordidus?). He turned to go
home, and as he went he shot his arrows before him into the jungle
[131]. Then he went after his arrows to find them again. As he went he
spoke to the fruits of the jungle, asking them their names. In those
days the ancestors did not know the names of the fruits and trees.
First he asked the puiam, and then the guluba, and then the čakli, but
none of them replied to him. Then he found his first arrow. It was
stuck fast in a big yam (gono). He took the arrow and said to the yam
‘What is your name?’ At first the yam did not answer. Teŋat turned to
go away. He had gone a few steps when the yam called him back, saying
‘My name is gono.’ Teŋat replied ‘Oh! I did not know. Why did not you
say so before?’ He dug up the yam, which was a very big one. He went
off to look for his second arrow. As he went he spoke to the stones of
the jungle, asking their names, but none of them replied. Then he found
his second arrow fixed in a large lump of resin (tug) [132]. He took
the arrow, and as he was going away the resin called him back, saying
‘Here! my name is tug; you can take me along with you.’ So Teŋat took
the resin. Then Teŋat found a cicada (rita), and he took that also.
When Teŋat got to the hut (bud), everyone came to look at the things he
had brought. He showed them the yam. He told them its name and showed
them how to cook it. This was the first time that the ancestors ate
gono. Then Teŋat took in his hand the cicada and squashed it between
his palms. As he killed it the cicada uttered its cry and the whole
world became dark. When the people saw that it was dark they tried to
bring back the daylight. Teŋat took some of the resin and made torches.
He taught the people how to dance and sing. When Da Ko̱ŋoro (Sir Ant)
sang a song the day came back. After that the day and night came
alternately.”
Mr Man records a different version of this story.
“The manner in which the world was illuminated at the beginning is not
clearly to be ascertained from their legends, for one story states that
the sun and moon were subsequently created at Tomo’s request, as he
found that, under the then existing circumstances, it was impossible to
catch fish by night or to hunt by day; while, in direct disagreement
with this, another story tells us that night was a punishment brought
upon mankind by certain individuals who angered Puluga by killing a
caterpillar. The tale informs us that the sun, one day, burned so
fiercely as to cause great distress. Two women named Čana Limi and Čana
J̌araŋud, became exceedingly irritable, and while in this unhappy frame
of mind they discovered a caterpillar (gurug) and a certain plant
called utura. By way of venting their spleen, one crushed the helpless
grub, and the other destroyed the plant. These wanton acts so
displeased Puluga that he determined to punish them, and to teach them
to appreciate the privilege of daylight, which they had hitherto
uninterruptedly enjoyed. He accordingly visited the earth with a
long-continued darkness, which caused every one much inconvenience and
distress. At last their chief, Maia Ko̱lwo̱t, to whom reference has
already been made, hit upon a happy expedient of inducing Puluga to
restore the former state of things by trying to assure him that they
were quite unconcerned, and could enjoy themselves in spite of light
being withheld from them. To accomplish this, he invented the custom of
dancing and singing, the result of which was that Puluga, finding that
they had frustrated his intention, granted, as a first concession
alternate periods of day and night, and subsequently, moved by the
difficulties often occasioned by the latter, created the moon to
mitigate their troubles. It is in this way that they account for the
same word being used to denote a caterpillar and night [133].”
From the Akar-Bale tribe I obtained a legend about the origin of death.
No other version of the same legend was obtained.
“At J̌o̱ŋo-l’ar-bo̱ŋ lived In Kalwadi with her sons Yaramurud and Toau
[134]. Yaramurud went to hunt pig for his mother, but was unsuccessful.
When he came home his mother brought him some pork that was in the hut.
As he took his knife from the back of his neck to cut the meat with it,
he cut himself [135]. Then his mother knew that he was dead. She said
to him ‘You are dead now. You had better go away. We do not want you
here any more.’ She took him up and carried him into the jungle and
buried him, returning home. Very soon Yaramurud returned. His mother
exclaimed ‘Oh! I thought you had gone.’ He replied ‘Mother, I did not
die. Why did you bury me?’ But she knew he was dead, so she took him
and buried him again. He came back again. This happened three times.
Then Kalwadi took him into the jungle to a big dumla tree (Pisonia
excelsa), in which there was a big hole. She kicked the tree with her
foot and said ‘You go in there.’ Yaramurud went inside. ‘Well! Have you
gone?’ his mother asked. He answered ‘Yes!’ ‘Tell me how the spirits
(čauga) talk’ she asked him, and he replied ‘To̱ kit [136].’ Then his
mother knew that he was with the spirits, and said ‘Oh! my child, you
are finished now. You will never come back again.’ After a few days
Yaramurud came back (as a spirit) to see his brother Toau. Toau was
busy building a hut. When Yaramurud saw him he killed him. Before this
there had been no death. But In Kalwadi told the people, saying ‘You
see what has happened; well, we shall all of us die like this, like
these two have done’.”
There is a widespread legend to account for the origin of creeks and
islands. The following is an A-Pučikwar version.
“At first there was only one big island with the sea all round it.
There were no small islands and no creeks. Ko̱ŋoro (a species of ant)
made a turtle net and went fishing. He caught a very big fish of the
kind called ko̱ro-ŋiti-čau in his net, and dived down and attached a
rope to its tail. The fish got very angry and made furious plunges to
get away, striking the land in its struggles, and each time knocking
off a bit of the land or making a long split. This is the origin of the
smaller islands and the creeks.”
Mr Man records the same legend, but says it was Tomo who caught the
fish [137]. In an Akar-Bale version it was Da Pečero̱l who caught the
fish (ko̱roŋadi). Pečero̱l is the bulbul (Otocompsia emeria). I have the
name ko̱roŋadi in my notes as being Sphyraena acutipinnis, but the
identification is a doubtful one. In the Aka-Kede tribe there is a
version in which it is stated that one of the ancestors captured a fish
called talepo. This does not seem to be the same species of fish as
that called ko̱ro-ŋiti-čau or ko̱roŋadi in the South. In the North
Andaman the legend is that Pe̱rǰido, the son of Biliku, shot a large eel
(bol) with an arrow, and in its endeavours to get free from the arrow
the eel wriggled about till it made all the creeks.
In the Southern tribes there is a legend that relates how the pig first
got its senses. A version from the A-Pučikwar tribe is as follows.
“Ta Mita (Sir Dove) went into the jungle and found a lot of pigs. They
did not run away when he came because they had no eyes to see him, no
ears to hear, and no nostrils with which to smell. They had no mouths.
Mita made mouths for them and gave them tusks which he made of tobur
wood. He made eyes and ears and nostrils in their heads and taught them
how to grunt and how to sneeze [138].”
Another version from the same tribe is as follows.
“At first the pigs had neither nose nor ears nor eyes. They used to
stand about at Wota-emi when the ancestors lived there. The people ate
a great many of them. They were such a nuisance that Mita (Dove), the
wife of Tomo, thought of a plan to get them out of the way. She bored
holes in their heads, two for eyes, two for ears, and two for nostrils.
The pigs ran off into the forest where they have been ever since.”
I did not obtain any version of this legend from the Northern tribes.
The Aka-Kede have a different legend about the pigs.
“At first there were no pigs. One of the ancestors, Mimi Čau (Lady
Civet-cat), invented a new game, and made the ancestors run on all
fours and grunt. Those playing were turned into pigs, and went to live
in the jungle. Mimi Čau became a civet-cat (čau).”
In the North Andaman there is a legend connected with the pig which
explains the origin of the dugong.
“Pe̱rǰido was the first man to catch a pig. He went into the forest and
found a pig. Pe̱rǰido was hungry. He caught the pig and took it home.
The pig had no eyes nor ears nor mouth. Pe̱rǰido did not disembowel the
pig, nor did he sever the joints of its legs [139]. He made a fire and
put the pig on it. The pig swelled up in the heat of the fire and
burst. This made holes in the pig’s head, two for ears, two for eyes,
two for nostrils. The pig perceived that it was being burnt. It jumped
up from the fire and ran away. Pe̱rǰido threw a ko̱bo (Licuala) leaf at
it. The pig ran into the sea and became a dugong. The leaf became its
flipper.”
In the Aka-Čari tribe there is a legend describing the origin of
turtles.
“At first there was only one big turtle. He came to the camp of the
Aka-Čari people and called them, saying ‘Bring your canoes and catch
me.’ They got into their canoes and followed the turtle. They could not
catch him. The turtle swam away and the canoes followed. When the
canoes were far from land the big turtle came and upset the canoes. The
men were all turned into turtles of the same kind and size as those
that are seen now. The canoes (and the big turtle?) were turned into a
reef.”
In the South Andaman it is supposed that the custom of scarifying the
skin was invented by the first ancestor of the Andamanese, the monitor
lizard. An Akar-Bale version of the story is as follows.
“Duku (Monitor Lizard) lived with his wife Bain (Civet-cat). Duku said
‘I am going to scarify myself.’ His wife tried to dissuade him. He
would not listen to her. He went into the jungle and found a piece of
to̱lma (quartz) and scarified himself all over. His wife was very angry
and asked him why he had done it. Duku replied ‘I look very well like
this, and you will see, all the other people will do the same’.”
Mr Man gives a version of the same legend.
“Maia Duku, who appears to be identical with Tomo, is said to have been
the first to tattoo himself. One day, while out on a fishing
expedition, he shot an arrow; missing its object it struck a hard
substance which proved to be a piece of iron, the first ever found.
With it Duku made an arrow-head and tattooed himself, after which he
sang the ditty:—
To̱ŋ ma lir pireŋa? to̱ŋ yitiken! to̱ŋ yitiken!
to̱ŋ ma lir pireŋa? to̱ŋ yitiken!
the interpretation of which is
‘What can now strike me?
I am tattooed, I am tattooed!’ etc. (Da capo) [140].”
It would seem that Mr Man, or else his informant, was not very clear
about the details of the legend. In the South Andaman scarification is
never performed with an arrow-head, nor with any instrument of iron,
but with a flake of quartz or glass. It is only in the North and Middle
Andaman that an arrow-head is used for such a purpose, and even then it
is only so used to make the big scars on the back and chest, the
ordinary scarification being performed with a flake of stone or glass.
The legend is certainly a Southern one, and the song given is in the
Aka-Bea language. The accuracy of the transcription of the legend
therefore seems very doubtful.
Yams and honey, being two of the most important foods of the Andaman
Islanders, are the subject of several legends. A common belief about
yams is that they were made, or their qualities were first discovered,
by Biliku or Puluga. We have already seen that there is a special
connection between Biliku (or Puluga) and the yams and other edible
roots. There are also other legends, however, on the same subject. An
account of the first discovery of the yam called gono is contained in
the Akar-Bale legend of the origin of night, already given [141].
In the North Andaman the following tale is told about the discovery of
one kind of yam.
“Maia Dik (Sir Prawn) discovered ko̱nmo (Dioscorea sp.). He was very
hungry and went to look for something to eat. He found a very large
ko̱nmo. There was only one ko̱nmo. He cooked it in the fire and ate as
much as he could. He dashed the remainder on a rock, and the fragments
scattered everywhere and grew into fresh plants. After this there were
plenty of ko̱nmo everywhere.”
A legend is also told in the North Andaman about the first discovery of
another kind of yam.
“Maia Pulimu (Sir Fly) and Maia Mo̱ičo (Sir Rail) went to hunt pig. They
killed one pig. There was nothing to tie up the pig (to carry it home).
Maia Pulimu went to look for a creeper (with which to tie up the pig).
He caught hold of a creeper and pulled it and found it was a mino
(Dioscorea sp.). Maia Pulimu was a long time away. Maia Mo̱ičo went and
found some creeper for himself and tied up the pig and carried it home.
When Maia Pulimu came back he found that Maia Mo̱ičo had gone and taken
the pig. He followed him and went home. He showed the ancestors how to
cook and eat mino.”
I believe that there is a fuller version of this legend, which I was
unable, however, to obtain. Another of my informants told me the story
as follows.
“Mimi Mo̱ičo (Lady Rail) had a son Pulimu (Fly). Pulimu found a mino in
the forest and brought it to his mother. They roasted it in the fire.”
Mr Man gives a story from the South Andaman.
“Another of their antediluvian ancestors was famous for propagating
yams. This was Maia Bumroag, who in shooting an arrow, struck the
creeper belonging to the favourite variety called gono; his curiosity
being excited he dug up the root, and tasted it: the result being
satisfactory, he informed his friends of his discovery, and they all
feasted upon it; when they had had sufficient, he scattered the remains
in different directions; this apparent waste so angered his mother
that, on pretence of shaving him, she split his head open with a flint.
After his death it was found that the act for which he had suffered had
tended to the spread of the plant which is now plentiful [142].”
In the North Andaman it is supposed that honey was discovered by
Pe̱rǰido the son of Biliku.
“Pe̱rǰido was the first to eat honey. One day he went to shoot fish. He
saw a nyuri (Plotosus sp.). The nyuri disappeared amongst the roots of
the mangrove trees. Pe̱rǰido was looking for the fish. There was a
honeycomb in a mangrove tree. Pe̱rǰido saw its reflection in the water.
He took some fire and tried to get the honey out of the water [143].
The water put out the fire. He could not get the honey. He went home
and told his mother what he had been doing. She went with him and saw
the honey. ‘What a fool you are’ she said, ‘don’t you see that it is in
the trees.’ Pe̱rǰido took some fire and smoked out the bees and took the
honey. After that Pe̱rǰido used to go and collect honey. He ate it all
himself. He did not tell the others (the ancestors) about it. Maia
Po̱rubi (Sir Frog) found out that Pe̱rǰido was getting honey and eating
it. He went in to the forest to look for some. He found five or six
combs. He ate them all and brought none home to his children. Be̱re̱t (a
smaller species of frog) was the child of Po̱rubi. One day Be̱re̱t said to
his father ‘Bring us some honey.’ The children went with their father
and showed him the combs in the trees. Po̱rubi went up the tree, and
each time he ate the honey in the tree and did not bring any of it down
for his children. Then Be̱re̱t saw another honeycomb in a very tall tree.
He pointed it out to his father. Po̱rubi went up to get it. Be̱re̱t cut
the creeper up which his father had climbed [144]. Po̱rubi wrapped up
the honeycomb to bring it down. Be̱re̱t said ‘Father, this creeper is
bad. How will you come down?’ Po̱rubi replied ‘How can it be bad, when I
have just climbed up it?’ Be̱re̱t made some sharp stakes of čo̱m (Areca)
wood, and put them round the tree. Po̱rubi jumped (or fell) from the
tree on to the stakes and was killed. Be̱re̱t took the honey and ran away
home.”
In the Aka-Čari tribe there is another legend connected with the frog
(po̱rubi) which may conveniently be given here.
“The ancestors were at enmity with Maia Po̱rubi. They went to kill him.
They shot him with their arrows, but they could not kill him. Maia
Po̱rubi caught hold of them all in his arms, and jumped into the sea. He
jumped from the hill called Čauanara. He found a big round stone
(boulder) and put the people under it and left them there. All the
people turned into stone, and may be seen there now. The next night
some more of the people went to hunt turtle near Maia Po̱rubi’s place.
They caught a turtle and shouted [145]. Maia Po̱rubi heard them
shouting. ‘They are coming again to kill me,’ he said. While they were
catching turtle he threw a round stone at them. The stone sank the
canoe. The canoe and the people in it were turned to stone.”
A story in which there is a connection between honey and a toad is
given by Mr Man.
“Another curious fable is told to account for a drought from which
their early ancestors suffered: it relates that once upon a time, in
the dry season, a woodpecker discovered a black honeycomb in the hollow
of a tree; while regaling himself on this dainty he observed a toad
eyeing him wistfully from below, so he invited him to join in the
feast; the toad gladly accepted, whereupon the woodpecker lowered a
creeper, giving instructions to his guest to fasten his bucket (dakar)
thereto, and then to seat himself in it, so that he might be drawn up.
The toad complied with the directions and the woodpecker proceeded to
haul him up; but just when he had brought him near the comb he
mischievously let go the creeper, and his confiding and expectant guest
experienced an unpleasant fall. The trick so exasperated him that he at
once repaired to the streams far and near in the island and drained
them, the result of which was that great distress was occasioned to all
the birds, as well as to the rest of the animate creation. The success
of his revenge so delighted the toad that, to show his satisfaction,
and to add to the annoyance of his enemies, he thoughtlessly began to
dance, whereupon all the water flowed from him, and the drought soon
terminated [146].”
One of the incidents of the North Andaman story of the frog (Po̱rubi)
and his son (Be̱re̱t) appears in a different story from the South and
Middle Andaman. The following is an Aka-Ko̱l version of this legend.
“Ta Mita (Sir Dove) and Ta Ko̱io (a species of small bird) went hunting
together and got a great number of pigs. Ta Ko̱io told Ta Mita to get
some canes to tie up all the pigs. As soon as Ta Mita had gone to look
for the cane, Ta Ko̱io went up a big Dipterocarpus tree, taking half the
pigs with him. He came down and took the rest of the pigs. He stayed up
in the tree with the pigs. When Ta Mita came back he found that the
pigs had disappeared. He was very angry and went home. As there was
nothing to eat, Mita and his two children, Čada and Čoda (two species
of fish) went fishing. Ko̱io was still up the tree. He was cooking the
pigs up there. Mita and his children passed under the tree and some
burning resin [147] fell on them. In this way they discovered that Ko̱io
was in the tree. Mita planned to punish Ko̱io. He cut a great number of
sharp stakes of Areca wood and fixed them all round the tree, pointing
upwards. Ko̱io was asleep. Mita made the tree sink into the ground. As
soon as it was low enough he took some water and threw it into the ear
of the sleeping Ko̱io, who awoke in a fright and jumped from the tree.
He was impaled on the stakes of wood and so died.”
Another version of the same tale was obtained from the Akar-Bale tribe.
“Da Bumu (a species of bird) went hunting pig with Da Berakwe (another
species of bird), and they got a large number of pigs. Then Berakwe
said to Bumu ‘We want some cane to tie up all these pigs. You go and
get it.’ When Bumu had gone Berakwe climbed up into a big Dipterocarpus
tree, taking all the pigs with him, except one very small one which he
left behind. When Bumu came back with the cane he found only one small
pig, and he was very angry. He went home with the pig. Bumu’s wife
Yakoŋ (a species of fish) said ‘I am very hungry. We will go and get
some fish by night.’ At night Yakoŋ went out to get some fish and she
passed under the tree where Berakwe was cooking his pigs. Some burning
resin fell on her and burnt her. She looked up and saw Berakwe and said
‘Oh! there you are; you stole all my husband’s pigs.’ She went home and
told Bumu. In the morning Bumu got up very early and cut a number of
pointed stakes of Areca (čam) wood, and fixed them all round the tree
where Berakwe was, with the sharp points upwards. Then Bumu made the
tree sink gradually into the ground. Berakwe fell from the tree on to
the stakes and so was killed. Bumu and his wife got the pigs.”
Mr Man records a version of the same story.
“The legend regarding the origin of the evil spirits known as Čo̱l is as
follows:—Their ancestor, Maia Čo̱l, one day stole a pig which had been
captured by Maia Ko̱lwo̱t, and climbed up into a gurjon-tree with his
prize. Now Maia Ko̱lwo̱t was remarkable for his great strength, and being
enraged, determined to revenge himself; he thereupon planted a number
of spikes all round the tree in which the thief had taken refuge, and
then proceeded to force it into the ground. On finding that if he
remained where he was, he must inevitably be buried alive, Maia Čo̱l
sprang off the tree, and thereby met a more terrible fate, for he was
impaled on the spikes, and perished miserably. His disembodied spirit
did not pass to Čaitan (Hades), but took up its abode on the invisible
bridge, where, by Puluga’s orders, numbers of his descendants were sent
to join him, in the form of black birds with long tails [148].”
In reference to this version it may be noted that the Čo̱l are not
“spirits” if that word is used to translate the native term čauga or
lau. Čo̱l is the name of a species of bird, which I believe is the
racket-tailed drongo. These birds, though according to Mr Man they live
on the rainbow, are to be seen every day in the jungle, and may be
heard calling čo̱l! čo̱l! čo̱l!
Throughout the Great Andaman there is a belief in a huge animal that
haunts the jungles, or that haunted them in the days of the ancestors.
In the North Andaman this beast is called J̌irmu. In the days of the
ancestors it is supposed to have lived at Ulibi-taŋ, where it attacked
and killed any men and women who came in its way. No detailed legend
about the J̌irmu was obtained.
In the Akar-Bale language Kočurag-boa is the name of the same or a
similar monster. In the A-Pučikwar language it is called Uču. This is
the name applied to two rocks of limestone which are situated about two
or three miles south of Wota-emi, one being in a mangrove swamp, and
the other some little way out in the sea. The following legend is told
about these rocks.
“In the early days of the Andamanese, Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard),
the first ancestor, went into the jungle and found a čo̱ti tree, up
which he climbed to eat the fruit. The other people (who lived with him
at Wota-emi) came and found him, and Ta Pe̱tie threw down some of the
fruit to them, which they ate. The people began to bully Pe̱tie to make
him throw down more of the fruit. Pe̱tie got angry and said ‘If you
bully me like that I will call the Uču, and they will kill you all.’
The people only laughed at him. Pe̱tie called the Uču, calling ‘Dire!
dire!’ The Uču came, one male and one female. They caught all the
people and ate them. Only Pe̱tie they did not eat because he was up in
the high tree. The Uču went off to cross the strait to To̱l-l’oko-tima.
They had eaten so much that they were very heavy and stuck in the sand
and mud at the edge of the mangrove swamp. When Pe̱tie came down from
the tree he found all the people gone. He said ‘Hallo! the Uču must
have eaten them all.’ He went to look. He found the Uču stuck fast at
the edge of the mangrove swamp, so that they could not move. He cut
open their bellies and all the people came out, for the Uču had
swallowed them whole. The Uču are there to this day.”
When elephants were first introduced into the Andamans for the use of
the Forest Department, they were named Uču by the natives, and have
ever since retained that name. Similarly the natives of the Northern
tribes call them J̌irmu.
In the Akar-Bale tribe there is a legend to account for the origin of a
rock standing in the sea at a place called Kwaičo-bur.
“Ra-gumul Kwo̱ko̱l went fishing with his bow and arrows in the sea. His
bow and arrows and he himself were turned into stone, and may be seen
there to the present day.”
Kwo̱ko̱l is the common tree-lizard. Ra-gumul is the term applied to a
youth or girl who has just passed through the pig-eating ceremony
described in Chap. II. A youth is not permitted to handle a bow for
some days after the ceremony in question. A version of the same legend
is recorded by Mr Man.
“The story regarding certain Tomola who failed to observe the rules for
neophytes, states that, on the day after they broke their fast of
reg-ǰiri (kidney-fat of pig), they left the encampment without giving
notice of their intention to their friends, and the result was that,
when they were missed and searched for, it was found that they had gone
to the shore to fish, and had there met a sad fate; the body of one was
discovered adhering to a large boulder, and turned into stone, while
the other, likewise in a state of petrifaction, was standing erect
beside it [149].”
A reef on the east side of Ritchie’s Archipelago is said to have
originated as follows.
“The people of Kwaičo went to J̌ila to hunt turtle, taking two canoes.
While they were away their wives made up a big fire in the evening at
Kwaičo. The hunters and their canoes were turned to stone, and formed
the reefs that are now there.”
I believe that the explanation of this story is the belief that the
moon is angry when a bright fire is visible at the time when he rises
in the evening shortly after sunset [150].
There seems to be a legend relating to a large snake called o̱r-čubi in
the North Andaman, but I was not able to obtain a detailed version. The
following was told me in Aka-J̌eru.
“At Dalamio, in the time of the ancestors, there used to be a big snake
of the kind called o̱r-čubi. He used to catch men and women when they
were gathering honey, and kill them and eat them.”
An Akar-Bale version is a little fuller.
“There was a man named Biča who went to look for honey in the jungle.
He saw a big snake (wara-ǰobo) and from its neck was hanging a
honeycomb. The snake was as big as a tree. ‘Why don’t you make your
honey in the trees?’ Biča said to the bees. He went home and called
several of the men. They took their bows and arrows. They found the
snake, and shot it with a great many arrows. They could not kill the
snake, which ran away and was never seen again.”
An Akar-Bale story relates how the first murder came to pass.
“Da Ko (Sir Crow) was the first of the Andamanese. He lived at
Kared-čar-buaro with his wife In Mud (Lady Dove). He had a friend,
Badgi-beria (Hawk). Badgi-beria had no wife and was jealous of Da Ko
and wanted to get his wife. When Da Ko knew this he was very angry. He
went into the jungle and hid himself. By and by he saw Badgi-beria and
Mud coming along the path together. He took his bow and arrows and
killed them.”
Another Akar-Bale story about the dove is as follows.
“Mud and Kulal were cooking pig and got very hot. They went to bathe
and were turned into birds.”
Mud is the bronze-winged dove, Chalcophaps indica, and kulal is the
teal, Nettium albigulare.
In the North Andaman there are tales about the sea-eagle (ko̱lo). One is
to the effect that at first he used ko̱bo (Licuala) leaves to fly with.
This was before he had wings of his own. Another story is as follows.
“Maia Ko̱lo (Sir Sea-eagle) lived at Čona in Tau-’ra-miku. He had a hut
in the top of a to̱ro̱ktato tree. He was unmarried. When the men went
fishing he used to steal their wives. He would only take good-looking
girls. He would call out to a girl to come and catch hold of his foot,
saying ‘I have a fish for you.’ If an old or ugly woman came, he would
say ‘No! not you; go away.’ When a young woman came and caught hold of
his foot he flew away with her to his hut in the tree.”