Day opens badly.--Ifugao houses.--The people, assemble.--Dancing.
--Speeches.--White paper streamers.--Head hunter dance.--Cañao.
Needless to say we were up betimes the next morning, May 2d,
for the clans were to gather, and the day would hardly be long
enough for all it was to hold. The day began ominously. As Kiangan
is a sort of headquarters, it has a guard-house for the service of
short imprisonments, a post-and-rail affair made of bamboo under the
_cuartel_. For while our administration is kindly, these mountaineers
from the first have had to learn, if not to feel as yet, that they
must be punished if guilty of infringing such laws and discipline as
have so far been found applicable. Accordingly, our guard-house held
two men, sentenced for twenty days, for having threatened the life of
one of their head men. Short as was the sentence, these two men had
nevertheless dug a passage in the earthen floor of their quarters,
and had just the night before opened the outer end of it, but not
enough to admit the passage of a human body. A private of Constabulary,
passing by this morning, stooped to examine this hole new to him, when
one of the prisoners threw a spear at him, made of a stalk of _runo_
[25] the head being a small strip of iron which he had kept concealed
in his gee-string. So true was his aim that, although he had to throw
his improvised spear between the rails, he nevertheless struck the
private in the neck, cutting his jugular vein, so that in five minutes
he was dead. The pen was now entered for the purpose of shackling the
criminal, when he announced that he would kill any white man that laid
hands on him. Upon Lieutenant Meimban of the Constabulary advancing,
both of the prisoners rushed him. In the mellay that followed the
murderer was shot and killed and his companion badly beaten up; Strong
later had to put seventeen stitches in one scalp wound alone. Although
the _ranchería_ from which the murdered private came was two hours
off, so that it usually took four hours to send a message and get
an answer, yet an hour and a half after the man died a runner came
in to ask for his body so it could be suitably buried. Altogether,
this double killing damped our spirits considerably; for one thing,
there was no telling how it would be received, particularly if there
should be any excessive drinking of _buhud_; there were very few of
us, mostly unarmed, and the Ifugaos were coming in hundreds at a time,
so that long before the forenoon was well under way several thousands
had collected. However, on moving out, we could not find that the
cheerfulness of the people had been in the least disturbed.
Before beginning the business of the day we walked about the village
and examined one or two houses. These are all of one room, entered
by a ladder drawn up at night, and set up on stout posts seven or
eight feet high; the roof is thatched, and the walls, made of wattle
_(suali)_, flare out from the base determined by the tops of the
posts. In cutting the posts down to suitable size (say 10 inches in
diameter), a flange, or collar, is left near the top to keep rats
out; chicken-coops hang around, and formerly human skulls, too,
were set about. But the Ifugaos, thanks to Gallman, as already said,
have abandoned head-hunting, and the skulls in hand, if kept at all,
are now hidden inside their owner's houses, their places being taken
by carabao heads and horns. One house had a _tahibi_, or rest-couch;
only rich people can own these, cut out as they are of a single log,
in longitudinal cross-section like an inverted and very flat V with
suitable head- and foot-supports. The notable who wishes to own one
of these luxurious couches gets his friends to cut down the tree
(which is necessarily of very large size), to haul the log, and to
carve out the couch, feeding them the while. Considering the lack
of tools, trails, and animals, the labor must be incredible and the
cost enormous. However, wealth will have its way in Kiangan as well
as in Paris.
By the time we had done the village, the hour of business had come,
and we moved up to the little parade in front of the _cuartel_, where
an enormous crowd had already assembled. As at Campote, so here, and
for the same reasons, very few old women were present, but about as
many young ones and children as there were men. Our approach was the
signal for the dancing to begin, and once begun, it lasted all day,
the _gansas_ never ceasing their invitation. Apparently anybody could
join in, and many did, informal circles being formed here and there,
for the Ifugaos, like all the other highlanders, dance around in a
circle. Both men and women took part, eyes on a point of the ground
a yard or so ahead, the knees a little bent, left foot in front, body
slightly forward on the hips, left arm out in front, hand upstretched
with fingers joined, right arm akimbo, with hand behind right hip. The
musicians kneel, stick the forked-stick handle of the _gansa_ in their
gee-strings, with the _gansa_ convex side up on their thighs, and
use both hands, the right sounding the note with a downward stroke,
the left serving to damp the sound. The step is a very dignified,
slow shuffle, accompanied by slow turns and twists of the left hand,
and a peculiar and rapid up-and-down motion of the right.
True to what had been said the day before, a particularly large circle
was formed, and Cootes and I were invited to join, which we did; if
any conclusion may be drawn from the applause we got (for the Ifugaos
clap hands), why, modesty apart, we upheld the honor of the Service.
Every now and then the orators had their turn, for a resounding
"Whoo-o-ee!" would silence the multitudes, and some speaker would
mount the tribune and give vent to an impassioned discourse. One of
these bore on the killing of the prisoner that morning: the orator
declared that he was a bad man, and that he had met with a just end,
that the people must understand that they must behave themselves
properly, and so on. I forget how many speeches were made; but the
tribune was never long unoccupied. Another performance of the day
was the distribution of strips of white onion-skin paper. On one
of his previous trips Mr. Worcester had noticed that the people
had taken an old newspaper he had brought with him, cut it up into
strips, and tied them to the hair by way of ornament. Acting on
this hint, it is his habit to take with him on his trips to this
country thousands of strips, and everybody gets a share according
to rank, a chief five, his wife four, an ordinary person three, and
little children two. Accordingly, he spent hours this day handing
out these strips, for this was a duty that could not be delegated:
the strips must come from the hands of the "Commission" himself. By
afternoon, every man, woman, and child--and there were thousands of
them all told--was flying these white streamers from the head, the
combined resulting effect being pleasing and graceful. Meanwhile the
people kept on coming from their _rancherías_, one arrival creating
something of a stir, being that of the _Princesa_, wife of the orator
who had welcomed us the day before. She came in state, reclining in a
sort of bag hanging from a bamboo borne on the shoulders of some of
her followers. She had an umbrella, and, if I recollect aright, was
smoking a cigar. On emerging from her bag, a circle formed about her,
and she was graciously pleased to dance for us, no one venturing to
join her. As she was fat and scant o' breath, [26] her performance,
was characterized by portentous deliberation, precision, and dignity,
and was as palpably agreeable to her as it was curious to us.
The great performance of the morning, however, was a head-hunter dance,
arranged by Barton; that is, he had gone out a day or two before
and told a neighboring _ranchería_, that they must furnish a show
of the sort for the _apos_ whose visit was imminent. But, according
to the old women of the village, he had made a great mistake in that
he said it was not necessary to hold a _cañao_ in advance. A _cañao_
(_buni_ in Ifugao), as already explained, is a ceremonious occasion,
celebrated by dancing, much drinking of _bubud_, the killing of a
pig, speeches. Whenever an affair of moment is in hand, such as a
funeral or a head-hunting expedition, a _cañao_ is held. Our entire
stay at Kiangan might be called a _cañao_, or, rather, it was made up
of _cañaos_. Now when Barton, two or three days before, refused to
_cañao_, the old women shook their heads, declaring that something
would happen, and the killings of the morning were at once summoned
as proof that they were right and he was wrong. However this may be,
not long after the _Princesa's_ dance we heard below us a cadenced
sound and saw a long column in file slowly approaching. Its head was
formed of warriors armed with spears and shields stained black with
white zig-zags across; the leading warrior walked backward, continually
making thrusts at the next man with his spear. A pig had immediately
preceded, trussed by his feet to a bamboo, and interfering mightily
with the music that followed. This was percussive in character, and
was produced by twenty-five or thirty men beating curved instruments,
made of very hard, resonant wood, with sticks. These musicians marched
along almost doubled over, and would lean in unison first to the right
and then to the left, striking first one end, then the other of their
instruments, which they held in the middle by a _bejuco_ string from
a hole made for the purpose. The note was not unmusical. Many of the
men had their head-baskets on their backs, and one or two of them the
palm-leaf rain-coat. I had never imagined that it was possible for
human beings to advance as slowly as did these warriors; in respect
of speed, our most dignified funerals would suffer by comparison. The
truth is, they were dancing. They got up the hill at last, however;
laid the pig down in the middle of the vast circle that had instantly
formed, and then began the ceremonious head-dance. Two or three men,
after various words had been said, would march around in stately
fashion, winding up at the pig, across whose body they would lay their
spears. On this an old man would run out, and remove the spears, when
the thing would be repeated. At last, a tall, handsome young man,
splendidly turned out in all his native embellishments, on reaching
the pig, allowed his companions to retire while he himself stood,
and, facing his party with a smile, said a few words. Then, without
looking at his victim, and without ceasing to speak, he suddenly thrust
his spear into the pig's heart, withdrawing it so quickly that the
blade remained unstained with blood; as quick and accurate a thing
as ever seen! Of course, this entire _cañao_ was full of meaning to
the initiated. Barton said it was a failure, and he ought to know;
but it was very interesting to us. I was particularly struck by the
bearing of these men, their bold, free carriage and fearless expression
of countenance.