The Wave-Offering

On one occasion, during my residence in the Kuala Langat district of

Selangor, I had the good fortune to be present at the "waving" of a

sacrificial tray (anchak) containing offerings to the spirits. The

account of this ceremony, which I shall now give, is made up from

notes taken during the actual performance. To commence:--The Pawang sat

down with his back to the patient, facing a multitude of dishes which

contained the various portions of cooked and uncooked food. The tray

itself was suspended at a height of about three feet from the ground in

the centre of the room, just in front of the Pawang's head. Lighting

a wax taper and removing the yam-leaf covering from the mouth of the

jar containing "holy" water, the Pawang now "inspected" the water

in the jar by gazing intently into its depths, and re-extinguished

the taper. Then he fumigated his hands in the smoke of the censer,

extended them for a brief interval over the "holy" water, took the

censer in both hands, described three circles round the jar with it,

set it down again, and stirred the water thrice with a small knife

or dagger (k'ris), the blade of which he kept in the water while he

muttered a charm to himself. Then he charmed the betel-stand and the

first dish of cooked food, pushing the latter aside and covering it

with a small dish-cover as he finished the charm. Next, at the hands

of one of the company, he accepted, in two pieces, five cubits of

yellow cloth (yellow being the royal colour), and a small vessel of

"oil of Celebes," with which, it may be added, he anointed the palms of

both hands before he touched the cloth itself. Next, he fumigated the

latter in the smoke of the censer, one end of the cloth being grasped

firmly in the right hand, and the remainder of it being passed round

the right wrist, and over and under the right arm, while the loose

end trailed across his lap. Next, after repeating the usual charm,

he breathed on one end of the cloth, passed the whole of the cloth

through his fingers, fumigated it, and laid it aside; took an egg

which was presented to him upon a tray, and deposited it exactly in

the centre of a large dish of parched rice. Next, he pushed aside the

jar of holy water, lowered the tray by means of the cord attached to it

(which passed over a beam), and proceeded to supervise the preparation

of the tray, which was being decorated with the "centipede" fringe

by one of the company acting as an assistant. The fringe having been

fitted by the latter to the edges of the tray, and the latter lined

with three thicknesses of banana leaf, the Pawang described a circle

round it thrice with the censer, and then deposited the censer upon

the floor, exactly under the centre of the tray. Then anointing his

hands again he passed them over both tray and fringe. A brief pause

followed, and then the Pawang took the larger piece of yellow cloth

and wrapped it like a royal robe around the shoulders of the patient

as he sat up inside his mosquito curtain. Another brief pause, and the

Pawang betook himself once more to the filling of the tray. Taking

a large bowl of parched rice, he scooped up the rice in his hands,

and let it run through his fingers into the tray, until there was

a layer of parched rice in the latter of at least an inch in depth,

and then deposited the egg, already alluded to, in the very centre of

the parched rice. Next he took a comb of bananas (presented by one

of the company), and cutting them off one by one deposited them in

a dish, from which they were presently transferred to the tray. The

Pawang now returned to the patient, and kneeling down in front of him,

fumigated his hands in the smoke of the censer, and then, muttering

a charm, wrapped the smaller piece of yellow cloth turban-wise round

his own head, and slowly and carefully pushed the yellow-robed patient

(who was still in a sitting posture) forward until he reached a spot

which was exactly under the centre of the tray, and which faced,

I was told, the "place of the Rising Sun."

The long straw-coloured streamers of the tray-fringe dropped

gracefully around the patient on every side, and had it not been for

occasional bright glimpses of the yellow cloth he would have been

almost invisible.

The censer, voluming upwards its ash-gray smoke, was now passed from

hand to hand three times round the patient, and finally deposited on

the floor at his feet.

The loading of the tray now recommenced, and the Pawang standing up

and looking towards the south, deposited in it carefully the several

portions of "cooked" offerings (the sum of the various portions

making up a whole fowl). Then, after washing his hands, he added

to the tray small portions of rice variously prepared and coloured

(viz. parched and washed rice, and rice stained yellow (saffron),

green, red, blue, and black, seven kinds in all). Next he deposited

in the tray the uncooked portions, whose sum also amounted to a whole

fowl, then, after a further hand-washing, the "cakes," and finally,

after a last washing, he fastened to the "suspenders" [661] of the

tray the small ornamental rice-bags called ketupat and lepat. [662]

But the list of creature comforts provided for the spirits

comprised other things besides food. Five miniature water-buckets,

each manufactured from a strip of banana leaf skewered together at

each end with a bamboo pin, were now filled, the alternate corner

ones with water and cane-juice (called "palm-toddy" in the Spirit

Language), and the central one with the blood of the fowls killed

for the sacrifice. They were then duly deposited in the tray by the

Pawang. Five waxen tapers, to "light the spirits to their food,"

were next "charmed" and lighted, and planted in the centre and four

corners respectively.

Finally, no doubt for the spirits' after-dinner enjoyment, five "chews"

of betel-leaf and five native-made cigarettes (tobacco rolled in

strips of palm-leaf), were charmed and actually lighted at a lamp, and

deposited in the tray with the other offerings, and at the same time

five 50 cent (silver) pieces of Straits money, called "tray-stones,"

were added to the medley, evidently with the object of preventing the

good temper of the spirits from being disturbed by "shortness of cash."

The loading of the tray being now complete, the Pawang walked thrice

round the patient (who was still overshadowed by the tray), and passed

the censer round him thrice. Standing then with his face to the east,

so as to look in the same direction as the patient, he grasped the

"suspenders" of the tray with both hands at their converging point,

and thrice muttered a charm, giving a downward tug to the cord of

the tray at the end of each repetition. This done, he removed the

yellow cloth from his head, and fastened it round the tray-cord at

the point where the "suspenders" converged, and then "waved" the

offering by causing the loaded tray with its flaring tapers to swing

slowly backwards and forwards just over the patient's head. Next,

letting the tray slowly down and detaching it from the cord, at the

converging point, he again "waved" it slowly to and fro amid the

flaring of the tapers, seven times in succession, and held it out

for the patient to spit into. When this was done he sallied out into

the darkness of the night carrying the tray, and gaining the jungle,

suspended it from a tree (of the kind called petai belalang) which had

been selected that very day for the purpose. A white ant, immediately

settling upon the offering, was hailed by the Malays present with

great delight as a sign that the spirits had accepted the offering,

whereupon we all returned to the house and the company broke up. The

ceremony had commenced about 8 P.M., and lasted about an hour and a

half, and the number of people present was fourteen, seven male and

seven female, which was the number stipulated by the Pawang.

Another form of "propitiation" (buang-buangan limas) ceremony consists

in loading a limas with the offerings. The limas is a receptacle

of about a span (sa-jengkal) in length, made of banana-leaf folded

together at the ends and skewered with a bamboo pin. Inside it are

deposited the offerings, which consist of the following articles:

a chupak (half cocoa-nutful) of "parched" rice, a set of three, five,

or seven bananas, a "pinch" (sa-jemput) of "saffron" rice, a pinch of

"washed" rice, a native cigarette (rokok), an egg, a wax taper, two

"chews" of betel-leaf, and a betel-leaf twisted up into the shape

of a spiral (pantat siput). One (at least) of the two "chews" of

betel must be specially prepared, as it is to be left behind for the

spirits to chew, whilst the other is taken back into the presence of

the sick man, where the medicine-man chews it and ejects the chewed

leaf (di-sembor) upon the "small" of the sick man's back. In the

case of the "chew" which is left behind for the spirits, the ordinary

portion of betel-nut must be replaced by nutmeg, the gambier by mace,

and the lime by "oil of Celebes" (minyak Bugis).

When the ceremony of loading the limas is complete, it is carried

down to the nearest river or sea, and there set adrift with the

following words:--

"Peace be with you, Khailir (Khizr), Prophet of God and Lord

of water,

Maduraya is the name of your sire,

Madaruti the name of your mother,

Si Kekas the name of their child;

Accept this present from your younger brother, Si Kekas,

Cause him no sickness or headache.

Here is his, your younger brother's, present."

Here the limas is set adrift, and the water underneath it scooped up

and carried home, where it is used for bathing the sick man.

Another very simple form of "propitiation" is called ambang-ambangan,

and is performed as follows:--

Take seven "chews" of betel-leaf, seven native cigarettes (rokok),

seven bananas, an egg, and an overflowing chupak (half cocoa-nutful)

of parched rice (ber'tih sa-chupak abong), [663] roll them all up

together in a banana leaf (which must be a cubit in length and of

the same variety of banana as the first), and deposit them in a place

where three roads meet (if anything "a little way along the left-hand

road of the three,") and repeat this charm:--

"Jembalang Jembali, Demon of the Earth,

Accept this portion as your payment

And restore So-and-So.

But if you do not restore him

I shall curse you with the saying,

'There is no god but God,'" etc.

The above ceremony is generally used in the case of fever complaint.

Counter-charms for "neutralising" the active principle of poisons form,

as a rule, one of the most important branches of the pharmacopoeic

system among the less civilised Malay tribes. A settled form of

government and the softening of manners due to contact with European

civilisation has, however, diminished the importance (I speak, of

course, from the Malay point of view) of this branch of the subject

in the Western Malay States of the Peninsula, where poisoning cases

are very rarely heard of. Malay women have always possessed the

reputation of being especially proficient in the use of poison;

ground glass and the furry spicules obtained from the leaf-cases of

some kinds of bamboo being their favourite weapons.

This idea (of using a charm to "neutralise" the active principle of

poison) has been extended by Malay medicine-men to cover all cases

where any evil principle (even, for instance, a familiar spirit) is

believed to have entered the sick person's system. All such charms are

piously regarded by devout Muhammadans as gifts due to the mercy of

God, who is believed to have sent them down to the Prophet Muhammad

by the hand of his servant Gabriel. This doctrine we find clearly

stated in the charms themselves, e.g. (somewhat tautologically):--

"Neutralising charms sprang from God,

Neutralising charms were created by God,

Neutralising charms were a boon from God,

Who commanded Prince Gabriel

To bring them unto Muhammad."

The ceremony of applying such charms generally takes the form of

grating a bezoar-stone [664] (batu guliga), mixing the result with

water, and drinking it after repeating the charm.

Thus in one of the charms quoted in the Appendix we read:--

"The Upas loses its venom,

And Poison loses its venom,

And the Sea-Snake loses its venom,

And the poison-tree of Borneo loses its venom,

Everything that is venomous loses its venom,

By virtue of my use of the Prayer of the Magic Bezoar-Stone."

Of the sea-snake (ular gerang) I was told that it was about two cubits

in length, and that it was the most poisonous snake in existence;

"In fact," my informant declared, "if your little finger is bitten

by it you must cut off the finger; if your oar-blade is bitten by it

you must throw away the oar." [665] And again of the Ipoh, or "upas"

(which is one of the chief ingredients in the blow-gun poison used

by the wild tribes), I was told that if a man who was "struck" by

it was supported by another his supporter would die, and that so

far from its virulence becoming then exhausted, it would even kill

a person who was seven times removed, in point of contact, from the

person originally affected. [666]

The above charm terminates as follows:--

"Let this my prayer be sharp as steel,

Swift as lightning,

Fleet as the wind!

Grant this by virtue of my use of the prayer of Dato' Malim

Karimun,

Who has become a saint through religious penance

Performed at the headwaters of the river of Saïran in the interior

of Egypt,

By the grace of," etc.

I may add that when you are collecting the materials for a neutralising

ceremony (tawar) the following formula should be used:--

"Not mine are these materials,

They are the materials of Kemal-ul-hakim; [667]

Not to me belongs this neutralising charm,

To Malim Saidi belongs this neutralising charm.

It is not I who apply it,

It is Malim Karimun who applies it."

Badi

The next class of medicinal ceremonies consists of rites intended to

effect the expulsion from the patient's body of all kinds of evil

influences or principles, such as may have entered into a man who

has unguardedly touched a dead animal or bird from which the badi

has not yet been expelled, or who has met with the Wild Huntsman in

the forest. [668]

Badi is the name given to the evil principle which, according to the

view of Malay medicine-men, attends (like an evil angel) everything

that has life. [It must not be forgotten when we find it used of

inert objects, such as trees, and even of stones or minerals, that

these too are animate objects from the Malay point of view.] Von de

Wall describes it as "the enchanting or destroying influence which

issues from anything, e.g. from a tiger which one sees, [669] from

a poison-tree which one passes under, from the saliva of a mad dog,

from an action which one has performed; the contagious principle of

morbid matter."

Hence the ceremony which purports to drive out this evil principle is

of no small importance in Malay medicine. I may take this opportunity

of pointing out that I have used the word "mischief" to translate

it when dealing with the charms, as this is the nearest English

equivalent which I have been able to find; indeed, it appears a very

fairly exact equivalent when we remember its use in English in such

phrases as "It's got the mischief in it," which is sometimes used

even of inanimate objects.

There are a hundred and ninety of these mischiefs, according to some,

according to others, a hundred and ninety-three. Their origin is very

variously given. One authority says that the first badi sprang from

three drops of Adam's blood (which were spilt on the ground). Another

(rather inconsistently) declares that the "mischief" (badi) residing

in an iguana (biawak) was the origin of all subsequent "mischiefs,"

yet adds later that the "Heart of Timber" was their origin, and yet

again that the yellow glow at sunset (called Mambang Kuning or the

"Yellow Deity") was their origin. These two latter are, perhaps the

most usual theories, but a third medicine-man declares that the first

badi was the offspring of the Jin ("genie") Ibn Ujan (Ibnu Jan?),

who resides in the clouds (or caverns?) and hollows of the hills. Thus

do Malay medicine-men disagree.

These "mischiefs" reside not only in animate, but also in inanimate

objects. Thus in one of the elephant-charms given in the Appendix

several different "mischiefs" are described as residing in earth,

ant-hills, wood, water, stone, and elephants (or rhinoceroses)

respectively. Again, in a deer-charm, various "mischiefs" are

requested to return to their place of origin, i.e. to the Iguana

(strictly speaking, the Monitor Lizard), Heart of Timber, and the

Yellow Glow of Sunset. Yet another deer-charm calls upon "Badi"

(as the offspring of the Jin Ibn Ujan, who resides in the clouds and

hollows of the hills), to return thereto. [670]

I will now proceed to describe the ceremony of "casting out" these

"mischiefs."

The chief occasions on which this casting out takes place are, first,

when somebody is ill, and his sickness is attributed to his accidental

contact with (and consequent "possession by") one of these mischiefs;

and, secondly, when any wild animal or bird is killed. The ceremony of

casting out the mischief from the carcases of big game will be found

described under the heading of "Hunting Ceremonies." I shall here

confine myself to a brief description of the ceremony as conducted

for the benefit of sick persons.

First make up a bunch of leaves (sa-cherek), consisting of the shrubs

called pulut-pulut and selaguri, with branches of the gandarusa and

lenjuang merah (red dracæna), all of which are wrapped together in a

leaf of the si-pulih, and tied round with a piece of tree-bark (kulit

t'rap), or the akar gasing-gasing. With this leaf-brush you are to

cast out the mischief. Then you grate on to a saucer small pieces

of ebony wood, brazil wood, "laka" wood, sandalwood, and eagle-wood

(lignaloes), mix them with water, putting in a few small pieces of

scrap-iron, and rub the patient all over with the mixture.

As you do this, repeat the appropriate charm; then take the brush of

leaves and stroke the patient all over downwards from head to foot,

saying:--

"Peace be with you, Prophet Noah, to whom belong the trees,

And Prophet Elias who planted them.

I crave as a boon the leaves of these shrubs

To be a drug and a neutralising (power)

Within the body, frame, and person of So-and-So.

If you (addressing the leaves) refuse to enter (the body of

So-and-So),

You shall be cursed with my 'curse of the nine countries,'

By (the power of) the word 'There is no god but God,'" etc.

Whilst reciting the above, stand upright, close to the patient's head,

grasping a spear in your left hand. Brandish this spear over the body

of the patient, drawing a long breath. [671]

This spear must afterwards be ransomed, (say) for forty cents; in

default of which payment it is forfeited to the medicine-man.

The directions for another form of the ceremony just described

("casting out the mischief"), are as follows:--

Whenever a person is suffering from the influence of a waxen image

(such as is described elsewhere), [672] you must rub him (or her)

all over with limes in order to "cast out the mischief." These limes

must be of seven different kinds, and you will require three of each

kind. When you have got them, fumigate them with incense and repeat

the appropriate charm, which is practically an appeal addressed to the

spirit of the limes to assist in extracting the poisonous principle

from the body of the sick man:--

"Peace be with you, O Lelang,

We have been brothers from the former time until now,

I am fain to order you to assist me in extracting everything that

is poisonous

From the body and limbs of So-and-So.

Break not your solemn promise,

Break not your plighted faith,

And use not deceit or wiles," etc.

Of course the luckless spirit is told that if he does not do exactly

as he is bidden he must expect the curse to follow.

This charm must be repeated overnight, and early next morning three

thicknesses of birah leaves must be laid down (for the patient to

stand upon during the lustration). The seven sorts of limes are

at the same time to be squeezed into a bowl and divided into three

portions. These portions are to be used three times during the day,

at sunrise, noon, and sundown respectively, partly for washing off

the cosmetics (which are rubbed all over the body), and partly as a

medicinal draught or potion.

In the morning the cosmetic must be white (bedak puteh lulut), at noon

it must be red (bedak merah), and at sundown black (bedak hitam). The

"trash" of the limes (after squeezing) is wrapped up in a birah

leaf at evening, and either carried out to the sea (into which it is

dropped), or deposited ashore at a safe distance from the house. The

only special taboo mentioned for this ceremony is that the patient must

not during its continuance meet anybody who has come from a distance.

Another very curious form of this ceremony of "casting out devils" was

described to me by a Kelantan Malay. It is worked on the substitute

or "scapegoat" principle (tukar ganti), and the idea is to make

little dough images of all kinds of birds, beasts, fishes, and even

inanimate objects (a few of the former being fowls, ducks, horses,

apes, buffaloes, bullocks, wild cattle (seladang), deer, mouse-deer,

and elephants, besides those enumerated in the charm itself, whilst

exceptions are to be the "unlucky" animals (benatang sial) such as

cats, tigers, pigs, dogs, snakes, and iguanas). When made they are

to be deposited together in a heap upon a sacrificial tray (anchak),

together with betel-leaves, cigarettes, and tapers. One of the tapers

is made to stand upon a silver dollar, with the end of a piece of

particoloured thread inserted between the dollar and the foot of the

taper; and the other end of this thread is given to the patient to

hold whilst the necessary charm is being repeated.

Part of this charm is worth quoting, as it helps to explain the line

of thought on which the medicine-man is working:--

"I have made a substitute for you,

And engage you for hire.

As for your wish to eat, I give you food,

As for your wish to drink, I give you drink.

Lo, I give you good measure whether of sharks,

Skates, lobsters, crabs, shell-fish (both of land and sea)--

Every kind of substitute I give you,

Good measure whether of flesh or of blood, both cooked and raw.

Accept, accept duly this banquet of mine.

It was good at the first: if it is not good now,

It is not I who give it."

The explanation of this part of the ceremony is that the evil spirit,

or "mischief," is supposed to leave the body of the sick man, and to

proceed (guided, of course, by the many-coloured thread which the

patient holds in his hand) to enter into the choice collection of

"scapegoats" lying in the tray. As soon as his devilship is got fairly

into the tray, the medicine-man looses three slip-knots (lepas-lepas),

and repeats a charm to induce the evil spirit to go, and throws away

the untied knots outside the house.

The original "disease-boat" used in Selangor was a model of a special

kind of Malay vessel called lanchang. This lanchang was a two-masted

vessel with galleries (dandan) fore and aft, armed with cannon,

and used by Malay Rajas on the Sumatran coast. This latter fact was,

no doubt, one reason for its being selected as the type of boat most

likely to prove acceptable to the spirits. To make it still further

acceptable, however, the model was not unfrequently stained with

turmeric or saffron, yellow being recognised as the royal colour

among the Malays.

Occasionally, on the other hand, a mere raft (rakit) is set adrift,

sometimes a small model of the balei (state-chamber), and sometimes

only a set of the banana-leaf receptacles called limas.

The vessel in the case of an important person is occasionally of

great size and excellent finish--indeed, local tradition has it that

an exceptionally large and perfect specimen (which was launched upon

the Klang river in Selangor some years ago, on the occasion of an

illness of the Tungku 'Chik, eldest daughter of the late Sultan),

was actually towed down to sea by the Government steam launch `Abdul

Samad. When all is ready the lanchang is loaded with offerings, which

are of an exactly similar character to those which are deposited

on the sacrificial tray or anchak [673] already described. Then one

end of a piece of yellow thread is fastened to the patient's wrist

(the other end being presumably made fast to the spirit-boat, or

lanchang); incense is burnt and a charm recited, the purport of it

being to persuade the evil spirits which have taken possession of the

patient to enter on board the vessel. This, when they are thought

to have done so, is then [674] taken down to the sea or river and

set adrift, invariably at the ebb tide, which is supposed to carry

the boat (and the spirits with it) "to another country." One of the

charms used at this stage of the ceremony even mentions the name of

the country to which the devils are to be carried, the place singled

out for this distinction being the Island of Celebes! The passage in

question runs as follows:--

"Peace be unto you, Devils of the sea, and Demons of the sea,

Neither on cape, nor bay, nor sandbank be ye stuck or stranded!

This vessel (lanchang) is that of Arong, [675]

Do you assist in guarding this offering from his grandchildren,

And vex not this vessel.

I request you to escort it to the land of Celebes,

To its own place.

By the grace of," etc.

This same charm is used mutatis mutandis for the Balei (Spirit-hall).

A common form of the "Lanchang" charm runs as follows:--

"Ho, elders of the upper reaches,

Elders of the lower reaches,

Elders of the dry land,

Elders of the river-flats,

Assemble ye, O people, Lords of hill and hill-foot,

Lords of cavern and hill-locked basin,

Lords of the deep primeval forest,

Lords of the river-bends,

Come on board this Lanchang, assembling in your multitudes,

So may ye depart with the ebbing stream,

Depart on the passing breeze,

Depart in the yawning earth,

Depart in the red-dyed earth.

Go ye to the ocean which has no wave,

And the plain where no green herb grows,

And never return hither.

But if ye return hither,

Ye shall be consumed by the curse.

At sea ye shall get no drink,

Ashore ye shall get no food,

But gape (in vain) about the world.

By the grace of," etc.

Sometimes the crocodile-spirit is requested to act as the forwarding

agent in the transaction; thus we find a short lanchang-charm running

as follows:--

"Ho, Elder of the Sloping Bank, Jambu Agai, [676]

Receive this (lanchang) and forward it to the River-Bay,

It is So-and-So who presents it.

Sa-rekong is the name of the (spirit of the) Bay,

Sa-reking the name of the (spirit of the) Cape,

Si `Abas, their child, is the rocky islet;

I ask (you) to forward this present at once to the God of

Mid-currents."

A somewhat longer charm, which is given in the Appendix, commences

by making an interesting point--

"Peace be with you! O crew newly come from your shipwrecked barque

on the high seas,

Spurned by the billows, blown about by the gale;

Come on board (this lanchang) in turn and get you food."

. . . . . . . . .

The speaker goes on to say that he recognises their right to levy

toll all over the country, and has made this lanchang for them as

a substitute (tukar ganti), implying, no doubt, in place of the one

which they had lost. In any case, however, there can be little doubt

that the "barque wrecked on the high seas" is the wasted body of the

sick man, of which the spirits were so recently in possession, and

in substitution for which they are offered the spirit-boat in question.

Tiger Spirit

I shall now proceed to describe the ceremony of invoking the Tiger

Spirit for the purpose of obtaining his assistance in expelling a

rival spirit of less power.

In the autumn of 1896 (in the Kuala Langat District of Selangor)

the brother of my Malay collector `Umar happening to fall ill of

some slight ailment, I asked and obtained permission to be present

at the ceremony of doctoring the patient. The time fixed for the

commencement of the ceremony (which is usually repeated for three

consecutive nights) was seven o'clock on the following evening. On

reaching the house at the time appointed I was met by `Umar, and

ascending the house-ladder, was invited to seat myself upon a mat

about two yards from the spot where the medicine-man was expected

to take up his position. Having done so, and looking round, I found

that there were in all nine persons present (including myself,

but exclusive of the Pawang, his wife, or the patient), and I was

informed that although it is not necessary for the same persons to

be present on each of the three nights, the greatest care must be

taken to see that the number of persons present, which should never,

in strictness, be an even number, does not vary from night to night,

because to allow any such variation would be to court disaster. Hence

I myself was only enabled to be present as a substitute for one of the

sick man's relatives who had been there on the preceding night. [677]

The accompanying diagram shows (approximately) the relative positions

of all who were present. In one corner of the room was the patient's

bed (sleeping-mat) and mosquito curtain with a patchwork front, and

in a line parallel to the bed stood the three jars of water, each

decorated with the sort of fringe or collar of plaited cocoa-nut

fronds called "centipedes' feet" (jari 'lipan), and each, too,

furnished with a fresh yam-leaf covering to its mouth. A little

nearer to me than the three water-jars, but in the same line, stood

a fairly big jar similarly decorated, but filled with a big bouquet

of artificial "flowers" and ornaments instead of the water. These

flowers were skilfully manufactured from plaited strips of palm-leaf,

and in addition to mere "flowers" represented such objects as rings,

cocoa-nuts, centipedes, doves, and the like, all of which were made

of the plaited fronds referred to. This invention was intended (I was

informed) to represent a pleasure-garden (taman bunga), and indeed

was so called; it was (I believe) intended to attract the spirit

whom it was the object of the ceremony to invoke. In front of the

three jars stood, as a matter of course, a censer filled with burning

embers, and a box containing the usual accessories for the chewing of

betel. Everything being now ready, the medicine-man appeared and took

his seat beside the censer, his wife, an aged woman, whose office was

to chant the invocation, to her own accompaniment, taking her seat at

the same time near the head of the patient's sleeping-mat. Presently

she struck up the invocation (lagu pemanggil), and we listened in rapt

attention as the voice, at first weak and feeble with age, gathered

strength and wailed ever higher and shriller up to the climax at the

end of the chant. At the time it was hard to distinguish the words,

but I learnt from her afterwards that this was what she sang:--

"Peace be unto you, Penglima Lenggang Laut!

Of no ordinary beauty

Is the Vessel of Penglima Lenggang Laut!

The Vessel that is called 'The Yellow Spirit-boat,'

The Vessel that is overlaid with vermilion and ivory,

The Vessel that is gilded all over;

Whose Mast is named 'Prince Mendela,'

Whose Shrouds are named 'The Shrouds that are silvered,'

Whose Oars are named 'The Feet of the Centipede'

(And whose Oarsmen are twice seven in number).

Whose Side is named 'Civet-cat Fencing,'

Whose Rudder is named 'The Pendulous Bees'-nest,'

Whose Galleries are named 'Struggling Pythons,'

Whose Pennon flaps against the deckhouse,

Whose Streamers sport in the wind,

And whose Standard waves so bravely.

Come hither, good sir; come hither, my master,

It is just the right moment to veer your vessel.

Master of the Anchor, heave up the anchor;

Master of the Foretop, spread the sails;

Master of the Helm, turn the helm;

Oarsmen, bend your oars;

Whither is our vessel yawing to?

The vessel whose starting-place is the Navel of the Seas,

And that yaws towards the Sea where the 'Pauh Janggi' grows,

Sporting among the surge and breakers,

Sporting among the surge and following the wave-ridges.

It were well to hasten, O Penglima Lenggang Laut,

Be not careless or slothful,

Linger not by inlet or river-reach,

Dally not with mistress or courtesan,

But descend and enter into your embodiment."

A number of rhymed stanzas follow which will be found in the Appendix.

Meanwhile the medicine-man was not backward in his preparations for

the proper reception of the spirit. First he scattered incense on

the embers and fumigated himself therewith, "shampooing" himself,

so to speak, with his hands, and literally bathing in the cloud of

incense which volumed up from the newly-replenished censer and hung

like a dense gray mist over his head. Next he inhaled the incense

through his nostrils, and announced in the accents of what is called

the spirit-language (bhasa hantu) that he was going to "lie down." This

he accordingly did, reclining upon his back, and drawing the upper end

of his long plaid sarong over his head so as to completely conceal

his features. The invocation was not yet ended, and for some time

we sat in the silence of expectation. At length, however, the moment

of possession arrived, and with a violent convulsive movement, which

was startling in its suddenness, the "Pawang" rolled over on to his

face. Again a brief interval ensued, and a second but somewhat less

violent spasm shook his frame, the spasm being strangely followed

by a dry and ghostly cough. A moment later and the Pawang, still

with shrouded head, was seated bolt upright facing the tambourine

player. Then he fronted round, still in a sitting posture, until he

faced the jars, and removed the yam-leaf covering from the mouth of

each jar in turn.

Next he kindled a wax taper at the flame of a lamp placed for the

purpose just behind the jars, and planted it firmly on the brim of

the first jar by spilling a little wax upon the spot where it was to

stand. Two similar tapers having been kindled and planted upon the

brims of the second and third jars, he then partook of a "chew" of

betel-leaf (which was presented to him by one of the women present),

crooning the while to himself.

This refreshment concluded, he drew from his girdle a bezoar or

talismanic stone (batu penawar), and proceeded to rub it all over the

patient's neck and shoulders. Then, facing about, he put on a new white

jacket and head-cloth which had been placed beside him for his use,

and girding his plaid (sarong) about his waist, drew from its sheath

a richly-wrought dagger (k'ris) which he fumigated in the smoke of

the censer and returned to its scabbard.

He next took three silver 20-cent pieces of "Straits" coinage, to

serve as batu buyong, or "jar-stones," and after "charming" them

dropped each of the three in turn into one of the water-jars, and

"inspected" them intently as they lay at the bottom of the water,

shading, at the same time, his eyes with his hand from the light

of the tapers. He now charmed several handfuls of rice ("parched,"

"washed," and "saffron" rice), and after a further inspection declared,

in shrill, unearthly accents, that each of the coins was lying exactly

under its own respective taper, and that therefore his "child" (the

sick man) was very dangerously ill, though he might yet possibly

recover with the aid of the spirit. Next, scattering the rice round

the row of jars (the track of the rice thus forming an ellipse),

he broke off several small blossom-stalks from a sheaf of areca-palm

blossom, and making them up with sprays of champaka into three separate

bouquets, placed one of these improvised nosegays in each of the three

jars of water. On the floor at the back of the row of jars he next

deposited a piece of white cloth, five cubits in length, which he had

just previously fumigated. Again drawing the dagger already referred

to, the Pawang now successively plunged it up to the hilt into each

of the three bouquets (in which hostile spirits might, I was told,

possibly be lurking). Then seizing an unopened blossom-spathe of the

areca-palm, he anointed the latter all over with "oil of Celebes,"

extracted the sheaf of palm-blossom from its casing, fumigated it,

and laid it gently across the patient's breast. Rapidly working

himself up into a state of intense excitement, and with gestures of

the utmost vehemence, he now proceeded to "stroke" the patient with

the sheaf of blossom rapidly downwards, in the direction of the feet,

on reaching which he beat out the blossom against the floor. Then

turning the patient over on to his face, and repeating the stroking

process, he again beat out the blossom, and then sank back exhausted

upon the floor, where he lay face downwards, with his head once more

enveloped in the folds of the sarong.

A long interval now ensued, but at length, after many convulsive

twitchings, the shrouded figure arose, amid the intense excitement

of the entire company, and went upon its hands and feet. The Tiger

Spirit had taken possession of the Pawang's body, and presently a low,

but startlingly life-like growl--the unmistakable growl of the dreaded

"Lord of the Forest"--seemed to issue from somewhere under our feet,

as the weird shrouded figure began scratching furiously at the mat

upon which it had been quietly lying, and then, with occasional pauses

for the emission of the growls, which had previously startled us,

and the performance of wonderful cat-like leaps, rapidly licked up

the handfuls of rice which had been thrown upon the floor in front of

it. This part of the performance lasted, however, but a few minutes,

and then the evident excitement of the onlookers was raised to fever

pitch, as the bizarre, and, as it seemed to our fascinated senses,

strangely brute-like form stooped suddenly forward, and slowly licked

over, as a tigress would lick its cub, the all but naked body of the

patient--a performance (to a European) of so powerfully nauseating

a character that it can hardly be conceived that any human being

could persist in it unless he was more or less unconscious of his

actions. At all events, after his complete return to consciousness at

the conclusion of the ceremony, even the Pawang experienced a severe

attack of nausea, such as might well be supposed to be the result of

his performance. Meanwhile, however, the ceremony continued. Reverting

to a sitting posture (though still with shrouded head), the Pawang

now leaned forward over the patient, and with the point of his dagger

drew blood from his own arm; then rising to his feet he engaged in a

fierce hand-to-hand combat with his invisible foe (the spirit whom he

had been summoned to exorcise). At first his weapon was the dagger,

but before long he discarded this, and laid about him stoutly enough

with the sheaf of areca-palm blossom.

Presently, however, he quieted down somewhat, and commenced to

"stroke" the sick man (as before) with the sheaf of palm-blossom,

beating out the blossom upon the floor as usual at the end of the

operation. Then sitting down again and crooning to himself, he partook

of betel-leaf, faced round towards the patient and stooped over him,

muttering as he did so, and passing his hands all over the prostrate

form. Next he turned once more to the jars and again plunged his

dagger into each of them in turn (to make sure that the evil spirit

was not lurking in them), and then drawing his head-cloth over his

head so as to completely hide his face, he once more took his seat

beside the patient, stooping over him from time to time and crooning

charms as he did so.

Finally he clapped his hands, removed his head-cloth, "stroked"

the patient over and flicked him with the corners of it, and then

shrouding himself once more in the sarong, lay down at full length

in a state of complete exhaustion. A pause of about ten minutes'

duration now followed, and then with sundry convulsive twitchings the

Pawang returned to consciousness and sat up, and the ceremony was over.

The following description of a ceremony similar to the one just

described is taken from Malay Sketches:--

"The ber-hantu is, of course, a survival of præ-Islam darkness,

and the priests abominate it, or say they do; but they have to be a

little careful, because the highest society affects the practice of

the Black Art.

"To return to the king's house. In the middle of the floor was

spread a puâdal, a small narrow mat, at one end of which was

seated a middle-aged woman dressed like a man in a short-sleeved

jacket, trousers, a sârong, and a scarf fastened tightly round her

waist. At the other end of the mat was a large newly-lighted candle

in a candlestick. Between the woman and the taper were two or three

small vessels containing rice coloured with turmeric, parched padi,

and perfumed water. An attendant sat near at hand.

"The woman in male attire was the Pâwang, the Raiser of Spirits, the

Witch, not of Endor, but of as great repute in her own country and

among her own people. In ordinary life she was an amusing lady named

Raja Ngah, a scion of the reigning house on the female side, and a

member of a family skilled in all matters pertaining to occultism. In

a corner of the room were five or six girls holding native drums,

instruments with a skin stretched over one side only, and this is

beaten usually with the fingers. The leader of this orchestra was

the daughter of Raja Ngah.

"Shortly after I sat down, the proceedings began by the Pâwang covering

her head and face with a silken cloth, while the orchestra began to

sing a weird melody in an unknown tongue. I was told it was the spirit

language; the air was one specially pleasing to a particular Jin, or

Spirit, and the invocation, after reciting his praises, besought him

to come from the mountains or the sea, from underground or overhead,

and relieve the torments of the King.

"As the song continued, accompanied by the rhythmical beating of the

drums, the Pâwang sat with shrouded head in front of the lighted taper,

holding in her right hand against her left breast a small sheaf of

the grass called daun sambau, tied tightly together and cut square

at top and bottom.

"This châdak she shook, together with her whole body, by a stiffening

of the muscles, while all eyes were fixed upon the taper.

"At first the flame was steady, but by and by, as the singers screamed

more loudly to attract the attention of the laggard Spirit, the wick

began to quiver and flare up, and it was manifest to the initiated

that the Jin was introducing himself into the candle. By some means

the Pâwang, who was now supposed to be 'possessed' and no longer

conscious of her actions, became aware of this, and she made obeisance

to the taper, sprinkling the floor round it with saffron-coloured

rice and perfumed water; then, rising to her feet and followed by the

attendant, she performed the same ceremony before each male member of

the reigning family present in the room, murmuring all the while a

string of gibberish addressed to the Spirit. This done, she resumed

her seat on the mat, and, after a brief pause, the minstrels struck

up a different air, and, singing the praises of another Jin, called

upon him to come and relieve the King's distress.

"I ascertained that each Malay State has its own special Spirits,

each district is equally well provided, and there are even some to

spare for special individuals. In this particular State there are four

principal Jin; they are the Jin ka-râja-an, the State Spirit--also

called Junjong dunia udâra, Supporter of the Firmament; Mâia udâra,

the Spirit of the Air; Mahkôta si-râja Jin, the Crown of Royal Spirits;

and S'tan Ali.

"These four are known as Jin âruah, Exalted Spirits, and they are the

guardians of the Sultan and the State. As one star exceeds another

in glory, so one Jin surpasses another in renown, and I have named

them in the order of their greatness. In their honour four white

and crimson umbrellas were hung in the room, presumably for their

use when they arrived from their distant homes. Only the Sultan of

the State is entitled to traffic with these distinguished Spirits;

when summoned they decline to move unless appealed to with their own

special invocations, set to their own peculiar music, sung by at least

four singers, and led by a Beduan (singer) of the royal family. The

Jin ka-râja-an is entitled to have the royal drums played by the State

drummers if his presence is required, but the other three have to be

satisfied with the instruments I have described.

"There are common devils who look after common people; such as Hantu

Songkei, Hantu Malâyu, and Hantu Blîan; the last the 'Tiger Devil,'

but out of politeness he is called 'Blîan,' to save his feelings.

"Then there is Kemâla ajaib, the 'Wonderful Jewel,' Israng, Raja

Ngah's special familiar, and a host of others. Most hantu have their

own special Pâwangs, and several of these were carrying on similar

proceedings in adjoining buildings, in order that the sick monarch

might reap all the benefits to be derived from a consultation of

experts, and as one spirit after another notified his advent by the

upstarting flame of the taper, it was impossible not to feel that

one was getting into the very best society.

"Meanwhile a sixteen-sided stand, about six inches high and shaped

like this diagram, had been placed on the floor near the Pâwang's

mat. The stand was decorated with yellow cloth; in its centre stood

an enormous candle, while round it were gaily-decorated rice and

toothsome delicacies specially prized by Jin. There was just room

to sit on this stand, which is called Petrâna panchalôgam (meaning

a seat of this particular shape), and the Sultan, supported by many

attendants, was brought out and sat upon it. A veil was placed on his

head, the various vessels were put in his hands, he spread the rice

round the taper, sprinkled the perfume, and having received into his

hand an enormous châdak of grass, calmly awaited the coming of the Jin

Ka-râja-an, while the minstrels shouted for him with all their might.

"The Sultan sat there for some time, occasionally giving a convulsive

shudder, and when this taper had duly flared up, and all the rites had

been performed, His Highness was conducted back again to his couch,

and the Pâwang continued her ministrations alone.

"Whilst striding across the floor she suddenly fell down as though

shot, and it was explained to me that Israng, the spirit by whom

she was possessed, had seen a dish-cover, and that the sight always

frightened him to such an extent that his Pâwang fell down. The cause

of offence was removed, and the performance continued.

"There are other spirits who cannot bear the barking of a dog, the

mewing of a cat, and so on.

"Just before dawn there was a sudden confusion within the curtains

which hid the Sultan's couch; they were thrown aside, and there lay

the King, to all appearance in a swoon. The Jin Ka-râja-an had taken

possession of the sick body, and the mind was no longer under its

owner's control.

"For a little while there was great excitement, and then the King

recovered consciousness, was carried to a side verandah, and a quantity

of cold water poured over him.

"So ended the séance.

"Shortly after, the Sultan, clothed and in his right mind, sent to

say he would like to speak to me. He told me he took part in this

ceremony to please his people, and because it was a very old custom,

and he added, 'I did not know you were there till just now; I could not

see you because I was not myself and did not know what I was doing.'

"The King did not die, after all--on the contrary, I was sent for

twice again because he was not expected to live till the morning,

and yet he cheated Death--for a time." [678]

The ceremony called Mengalin, or the "sucking charm" ceremony, is

one which is very curious, and deserves to be described in some detail.

First of all you perform the ceremony called "Driving out the Mischief"

(buang badi) from the sick man (vide supra) in or to drive away all

evil spirits (menolak sakalian chekedi atau hantu). Then wrap the

patient up in a white or black cloth, and taking a ball of (kneaded)

dough (tepong pengalin), eggs and saffron, repeat the suitable charm,

and roll it all over the skin of the patient's body in order to draw

out all poisonous influences (menchabut sagala bisa-bisa). Then if you

find inside the ball of dough after opening it an infinitesimally small

splinter of bone, or a few red hairs, you will know that these belong

to the evil spirit who has been plaguing the patient. The charm to

be used when rolling the ball of dough over the skin runs as follows:--

"Peace be unto you, O Shadowy Venom!

Venom be at ease no longer!

Venom find shelter no longer!

Venom take your ease no longer!

May you be blown upon, O Venom, by the passing breeze!

May you be blown upon, O Venom, by the yellow sunset-glow,

May the Pounce of this Lanthorn's lightning kill you;

May the Pounce of this Twilight's lanthorn kill you,

May the Shaft of the Thunderbolt kill you;

May the Fall of the heavy Rains kill you,

May the Inundation of Flood-waters kill you;

May you be towed till you are swamped by this my head-cloth,

May you be drowned in the swell of this my dough-boat.

By the grace of," etc.

A second charm of great length follows, the object of which is to

drive out the evil spirit in possession of the man.

An example of this form of cure as practised by Malay medicine-men is

referred to by Mr. Clifford, who, in speaking of his punkah-puller,

Umat, says:--

"It was soon after his marriage that his trouble fell upon Umat,

and swept much of the sunshine from his life. He contracted a form of

ophthalmia, and for a time was blind. Native Medicine Men doctored him,

and drew sheaves of needles and bunches of thorns from his eyes, which

they declared were the cause of his affliction. These miscellaneous

odds and ends used to be brought to me at breakfast-time, floating,

most unappetisingly, in a shallow cup half-full of water; and Umat

went abroad with eye-sockets stained crimson, or black, according to

the fancy of the native physician. The aid of an English doctor was

called in, but Umat was too thoroughly a Malay to trust the more simple

remedies prescribed to him, and though his blindness was relieved,

and he became able to walk without the aid of a staff, his eyesight

could never really be given back to him." [679]

In the above connection I may remark that, whether from the working

of their own imaginations or otherwise, those who were believed to be

possessed by demons certainly suffered, and that severely. H.H. Raja

Kahar, the son of H.H. the late Sultan of Selangor, was attacked by a

familiar demon during my residence in the Langat District, and shortly

afterwards commenced to pine away. He declared that the offending

demon was sitting in his skull, at the back of his head, and that it

dragged up and devoured everything that he swallowed. Hence he refused

at length to eat any sort of solid food, and gradually wasted away

until he became a mere skeleton, and went about imploring people to

take a hatchet and split his skull open, in order to extract the demon

which he believed it to contain. Gradually his strength failed, and at

length I learned from H.H. the Sultan (then Raja Muda) that all the

Malays in the neighbourhood had assembled to wail at his decease. As

we strolled among the cocoa-nut palms and talked, I told him of the

many miraculous cures which had attended cases of faith-healing in

England, and suggested, not of course expecting to be taken seriously,

that he should try the effect of such a cure upon his uncle, and "make

believe" to extract some "mantises" from the back of his head. To

my intense astonishment some days later, I learned that this idea

had been carried out during my temporary absence from the district,

and that the Muhammadan priest, after cupping him severely, had shown

him seven large mantises which he pretended to have extracted from the

back of his head. The experiment proved extraordinarily successful, and

Raja Kahar recovered at all events for the time. He declared, however,

that there were more of these mantises left, and eventually suffered a

relapse and died during my absence in England on leave. For the time,

however, the improvement was quite remarkable, and when Said Mashahor,

the Penghulu of Kerling, visited him a few days later, Raja Kahar,

after an account of the cure from his own point of view, declared

that nobody would now believe that he had been so ill, although "no

fewer than seven large mantises" had been "extracted from his head."

I now give a specimen of the ceremonies used for recalling a wandering

soul by means of a dough figure or image (gambar tepong). It is not

stated whether any of the usual accessories of these figures (hair

and nails, etc.) are mixed with the dough, but an old and famous

soul-doctor ('Che Amal, of Jugra) told me that the dough figure

should be made, in strictness, from the ball of kneaded dough which

is rolled all over the patient's body by the medicine-man during the

"sucking-charm" ceremony (mengalin). The directions for making it

run as follows:--

Make an image of dough, in length about nine inches, and representing

the opposite sex to that of the patient. Deposit it (on its back)

upon five cubits of white cloth, which must be folded up small for

the purpose, and then plant a miniature green umbrella (made of cloth

coated thickly with wax, and standing from four to five inches in

height) at the head of the image, and a small green clove-shaped

taper (of about the same height) at its feet. Then burn incense;

take three handfuls each of "parched," "washed," and "saffron" rice,

and scatter them thrice round the figure, saying as you do so:--

"O Flying Paper,

Come and fly into this cup.

Pass by me like a shadow,

I am applying the charm called the 'Drunken Stars [680]'

Drunken stars are on my left,

A full moon (lit. 14th day moon) is on my right,

And the Umbrella of Si Lanchang is opposite to me

Grant this by virtue of 'There is no god but God,'" etc.

The statement that this dough image should represent the opposite sex

to that of the patient should be received with caution, and requires

further investigation to clear it up. My informant explained that the

"Flying Paper" (kretas layang-layang) referred to the soul-cloth,

and the "cup" to the image, but if this explanation is accepted,

it is yet not unlikely that a real cup was used in the original

charm. The "drunken stars" he explained as referring to the parched

rice scattered on his left, and the full moon to the eyes of the

image. Arguing from the analogy of other ceremonies conducted on the

same lines, the wandering soul would be recalled and induced to enter

the so-called cup (i.e. the dough image), and being transferred thence

to the soul-cloth underneath it, would be passed on to the patient

in the soul-cloth itself.

Another way to recall a soul (which was taught me by 'Che `Abas of

Kelantan) is to take seven betel-leaves with meeting leaf-ribs (sirih

bertemu urat), and make them up into seven "chews" of betel. Then

take a plateful of saffron-rice, parched rice, and washed rice, and

seven pieces of parti-coloured thread (benang pancharona tujoh urat)

and an egg; deposit these at the feet of the sick man, giving him

one end of the thread to hold, and fastening the other end to the egg.

The soul is then called upon to return to the house which it has

deserted, is caught in a soul-cloth, and passed (it is thought)

first of all into the egg, and thence back into the patient's body

by means of the thread which connects the egg with the patient. The

charm runs as follows:--

"Peace be with you, O Breath!

Hither, Breath, come hither!

Hither, Soul, come hither!

Hither, Little One, come hither!

Hither, Filmy One, come hither!

Hither, I am sitting and praising you!

Hither, I am sitting and waving to you!

Come back to your house and house-ladder,

To your floor of which the planks have started,

To your thatch-roof 'starred' (with holes).

Do not bear grudges,

Do not bear malice,

Do not take it as a wrong,

Do not take it as a transgression.

Here I sit and praise you.

Here I sit and drag you (home),

Here I sit and shout for you,

Here I sit and wave to you,

Come at this very time, come at this very moment," etc.

Another way of recalling the soul is as follows:--

Put some husked rice in a rice-bag (sumpit) with an egg, a nail, and

a candle-nut; scatter it (kirei) thrice round the patient's head, and

deposit the bag behind his pillow (di kapala tidor), after repeating

this charm:--

"Cluck, cluck, souls of So-and-so, all seven of you,

Return ye unto your own house and house-ladder!

Here are your parents come to summon you back,

Back to your own house and house-ladder, your own clearing

and yard,

To the presence of your own parents, of your own family and

relations,

Go not to and fro,

But return to your own home."

When three days have expired, gather up the rice again and put it all

back into the bag. If there is a grain over throw it to the fowls,

but if the measure falls short repeat the ceremony.

Again, in order to recall an escaping soul (riang semangat) the

soul-doctor will take a fowl's egg, seven small cockle-shells (kulit

k'rang tujoh keping), and a kal [681] of husked rice, and put them

all together into a rice-bag (sumpit). He then rubs the bag all over

the skin of the patient's body, shakes the contents well up together,

and deposits it again close to the patient's head. Whilst shaking

them up he repeats the following charm:--

"Cluck! cluck! soul of this sick man, So-and-so,

Return into the frame and body of So-and-so,

To your own house and house-ladder, to your own ground and yard,

To your own parents, to your own sheath."

At the end of three days he measures the rice; if the amount has

increased, it signifies that the soul has returned; if it is the same

as before, it is still half out of the body; if less, the soul has

escaped and has not yet returned. In this case the soul is expected

to enter the rice and thus cause its displacement.

Another method, not of recalling the soul, but of stopping it in

the act of escaping, is to take a gold ring, not less than a maiam

[682] in weight, an iron nail, a candle-nut (buah k'ras), three small

cockle-shells, three closed fistfuls of husked rice (b'ras tiga genggam

bunyi), and some parti-coloured thread. These articles are all put

in a rice-bag, and shaken up together seven times every morning for

three days, by which time the soul is supposed to be firmly reseated

in the patient's body; then the rice is poured out at the door "to

let the fowls eat it." The ring is tied to the patient's wrist by

means of a strip of tree-bark (kulit t'rap), and it is by means of

this string that the soul is supposed to return to its body. When

the shaking takes place the following charm must be recited:--

"Peeling-Knife, [683] hooked Knife,

Stuck into the thatch-wall!

Sea-demons! Hamlet-demons!

Avaunt ye, begone from here,

And carry not off the soul of So-and-so," etc.

In conclusion, I will give a quotation from Malay Sketches, which is

perhaps as good an example as could be given of the way in which the

Black Art and the medical performances that in their methods closely

resemble it, are regarded by many respectable Malays:--

"One evening I was discussing these various superstitions with the

Sultan of Perak, and I did not notice that the spiritual teacher of His

Highness had entered and was waiting to lead the evening prayer. The

guru, or teacher, no doubt heard the end of our conversation, and

was duly scandalised, for the next day I received from him a letter,

of which the following is the translation:--

"'First praise to God, the Giver of all good, a Fountain of Compassion

to His servants.

"'From Haji Wan Muhammad, Teacher of His Highness the Sultan of Perak,

to the Resident who administers the Government of Perak.

"'The whole earth is in the hand of the Most High God, and He gives it

as an inheritance to whom He will of His subjects. The true religion

is also of God, and Heaven is the reward of those who fear the Most

High. Salvation and peace are for those who follow the straight path,

and only they will in the end arrive at real greatness. No Raja

can do good, and none can be powerful, except by the help of God,

the Most High, who is also Most Mighty.

"'I make ten thousand salutations. I wish to inquire about the

practice of ber-hantu, driving oneself mad and losing one's reason,

as has been the custom of Rajas and Chiefs in this State of Perak;

is it right, according to your religion, Mr. Resident, or is it

not? For that practice is a deadly sin to the Muhammadan Faith,

because those who engage in it lose their reason and waste their

substance for nothing; some of them cast it into the water, while

others scatter it broadcast through the jungle. How is such conduct

treated by your religion, Mr. Resident; is it right or wrong? I

want you in your indulgence to give me an answer, for this practice

is very hard on the poor. The Headmen collect from the rayats, and

then they make elaborate preparations of food, killing a buffalo or

fowls, and all this is thrown away as already stated. According to

the Muhammadan religion such proceedings lead to destruction.

"'I salute you many times; do not be angry, for I do not understand

your customs, Mr. Resident.

"'(Signed) Haji Muhammad Abu Hassan.'" [684]

9. DANCES, SPORTS, AND GAMES

Dance Ceremonies

The following passage is an account of a characteristic Malay dance,

the Joget:--

"Malays are not dancers, but they pay professional performers to

dance for their amusement, and consider that 'the better part' is

with those who watch, at their ease, the exertions of a small class,

whose members are not held in the highest respect. The spectacle

usually provided is strangely wanting in attraction: a couple of

women shuffling their feet and swaying their hands in gestures that

are practically devoid of grace or even variety--that is the Malay

dance--and it is accompanied by the beating of native drums, the

striking together of two short sticks held in either hand, and the

occasional boom of a metal gong. The entertainment has an undoubted

fascination for Malays, but it generally forms part of a theatrical

performance, and for Western spectators it is immeasurably dull. [685]

"In one of the Malay States, however, Pahang, it has for years been

the custom for the ruler and one or two of his near relatives to keep

trained dancing girls, who perform what is called the 'Jôget'--a real

dance with an accompaniment of something like real music, though the

orchestral instruments are very rude indeed.

"The dancers, bûdak jôget, belong to the Raja's household, they may

even be attached to him by a closer tie; they perform seldom, only for

the amusement of their lord and his friends, and the public are not

admitted. Years ago I saw such a dance, [686] and though peculiar to

Pahang, as far as the Malay States are concerned, it is probable that

it came originally from Java; the instruments used by the orchestra

and the airs played are certainly far more common in Java and Sumatra

than in the Peninsula.

"I had gone to Pahang on a political mission accompanied by a friend,

and we were vainly courting sleep in a miserable lodging, when at 1

A.M. a message came from the Sultan inviting us to witness a jôget. We

accepted with alacrity, and at once made our way to the astâna, a

picturesque, well-built, and commodious house on the right bank of

the Pahang river. A palisade enclosed the courtyard, and the front

of the house was a very large hall, open on three sides, but covered

by a lofty roof of fantastic design supported on pillars. The floor

of this hall was approached by three wide steps continued round the

three open sides, the fourth being closed by a wooden wall which

entirely shut off the private apartments save for one central door

over which hung a heavy curtain. The three steps were to provide

sitting accommodation according to their rank for those admitted

to the astâna. The middle of the floor on the night in question was

covered by a large carpet, chairs were placed for us, and the rest

of the guests sat on the steps of the dais.

"When we entered, we saw, seated on the carpet, four girls,

two of them about eighteen and two about eleven years old, all

attractive according to Malay ideas of beauty, and all gorgeously

and picturesquely clothed. On their heads they each wore a large and

curious but very pretty ornament of delicate workmanship--a sort of

square flower garden where all the flowers were gold, trembling and

glittering with every movement of the wearer. These ornaments were

secured to the head by twisted cords of silver and gold. The girls'

hair, combed down in a fringe, was cut in a perfect oval round their

foreheads and very becomingly dressed behind.

"The bodices of their dresses were made of tight-fitting silk,

leaving the neck and arms bare, whilst a white band of fine cambric

(about one and a half inches wide), passing round the neck, came

down on the front of the bodice in the form of a V, and was there

fastened by a golden flower. Round their waists were belts fastened

with large and curiously-worked pinding or buckles of gold, so large

that they reached quite across the waist. The rest of the costume

consisted of a skirt of cloth of gold (not at all like the sârong),

reaching to the ankles, while a scarf of the same material, fastened

in its centre to the waist-buckle, hung down to the hem of the skirt.

"All four dancers were dressed alike, except that the older girls

wore white silk bodices with a red and gold handkerchief, folded

corner-wise, tied under the arms and knotted in front. The points of

the handkerchief hung to the middle of the back. In the case of the two

younger girls the entire dress was of one material. On their arms the

dancers wore numbers of gold bangles, and their fingers were covered

with diamond rings. In their ears were fastened the diamond buttons so

much affected by Malays, and indeed now by Western ladies. Their feet,

of course, were bare. We had ample time to minutely observe these

details before the dance commenced, for when we came into the hall

the four girls were sitting down in the usual [687] Eastern fashion

on the carpet, bending forward, their elbows resting on their thighs,

and hiding the sides of their faces, which were towards the audience,

with fans made of crimson and gilt paper which sparkled in the light.

"On our entrance the band struck up, and our special attention was

called to the orchestra, as the instruments are seldom seen in the

Malay Peninsula. There were two chief performers: one playing on

a sort of harmonicon, the notes of which he struck with pieces of

stick held in each hand. The other, with similar pieces of wood,

played on inverted metal bowls. Both these performers seemed to have

sufficiently hard work, but they played with the greatest spirit from

10 P.M. till 5 A.M.

"The harmonicon is called by Malays chelempong, and the inverted

bowls, which give a pleasant and musical sound like the noise of

rippling water, gambang. The other members of the orchestra consisted

of a very small boy who played, with a very large and thick stick,

on a gigantic gong, an old woman who beat a drum with two sticks,

and several other boys who played on instruments like triangles called

chânang. All these performers, we were told with much solemnity, were

artists of the first order, masters and a mistress in their craft,

and if vigour of execution counts for excellence they proved the

justice of the praise.

"The Hall, of considerable size, capable of accommodating several

hundreds of people, was only dimly lighted, but the fact that, while

the audience was in semi-darkness, the light was concentrated on the

performers added to the effect. Besides ourselves, I question whether

there were more than twenty spectators, but sitting on the top of

the dais, near to the dancers, it was hard to pierce the surrounding

gloom. The orchestra was placed on the left of the entrance to the

Hall, that is, rather to the side and rather in the background,

a position evidently chosen with due regard to the feelings of the

audience.

"From the elaborate and vehement execution of the players, and the

want of regular time in the music, I judged, and rightly, that we had

entered as the overture began. During its performance the dancers sat

leaning forward, hiding their faces as I have described; but when it

concluded and, without any break, the music changed into the regular

rhythm for dancing, the four girls dropped their fans, raised their

hands in the act of Sembah or homage, and then began the dance by

swaying their bodies and slowly waving their arms and hands in the

most graceful movements making much and effective use all the while of

the scarf hanging from their belts. Gradually raising themselves from

a sitting to a kneeling posture, acting in perfect accord in every

motion, then rising to their feet, they floated through a series of

figures hardly to be exceeded in grace and difficulty, considering

that the movements are essentially slow, the arms, hands, and body

being the real performers, whilst the feet are scarcely noticed and

for half the time not visible.

"They danced five or six dances, each lasting quite half an hour, with

materially different figures and time in the music. All these dances, I

was told, were symbolical: one of agriculture, with the tilling of the

soil, the sowing of the seed, the reaping and winnowing of the grain,

might easily have been guessed from the dancer's movements. But those

of the audience whom I was near enough to question were, Malay-like,

unable to give me much information. Attendants stood or sat near the

dancers, and from time to time, as the girls tossed one thing on the

floor, handed them another. Sometimes it was a fan or a mirror they

held, sometimes a flower or small vessel, but oftener their hands

were empty, as it is in the management of the fingers that the chief

art of Malay dancers consists.

"The last dance, symbolical of war, was perhaps the best, the music

being much faster, almost inspiriting, and the movements of the dancers

more free and even abandoned. For the latter half of the dance they

each held a wand, to represent a sword, bound with three rings of

burnished gold which glittered in the light like precious stones. This

nautch, which began soberly like the others, grew to a wild revel

until the dancers were, or pretended to be, possessed by the Spirit

of Dancing, hantu menâri as they called it, and leaving the Hall for

a moment to smear their fingers and faces with a fragrant oil, they

returned, and the two eldest, striking at each other with their wands,

seemed inclined to turn the symbolical into a real battle. They were,

however, after some trouble, caught by four or five women and carried

forcibly out of the Hall, but not until their captors had been made

to feel the weight of the magic wands. The two younger girls, who

looked as if they too would like to be "possessed," but did not know

how to accomplish it, were easily caught and removed.

"The bands, whose strains had been increasing in wildness and in

time, ceased playing on the removal of the dancers, and the nautch,

which had begun at 10 P.M., was over.

"The Raja, who had only appeared at 4 A.M., told me that one of the

elder girls, when she became "properly possessed," lived for months

on nothing but flowers, a pretty and poetic conceit.

"As we left the Astana, and taking boat rowed slowly to the vessel

waiting for us off the river's mouth, the rising sun was driving the

fog from the numbers of lovely green islets, that seemed to float like

dew-drenched lotus leaves on the surface of the shallow stream. [688]"

The religious origin of almost all Malay dances is still to be

seen in the performance of such ritualistic observances as the

burning of incense, the scattering of rice, and the invocation of

the Dance-spirit according to certain set forms, the spirit being

duly exorcised again (or "escorted homewards," as it is called)

at the end of the performance.

The dances which have best preserved the older ritual are precisely

those which are the least often seen, such as the "Gambor Dance"

(main gambor), the "Monkey Dance" (main b'rok), the "Palm-blossom

Dance" (main mayang), and the "Fish-trap Dance" (main lukah). These

I will take in the order mentioned.

The "Gambor Dance" (lit. Gambor Play) should be performed by girls just

entering upon womanhood. The débutante is attired in an attractive

coat and skirt (sarong), is girt about at the waist with a yellow

(royal) sash, and is further provided with an elaborate head-dress,

crescent-shaped pendants (dokoh) for the breast, and a fan. The

only other "necessary" is the "Pleasure-garden" (taman bunga),

which is represented by a large water-jar containing a bunch of

long sprays, from the ends of which are made to depend artificial

flowers, fruit, and birds, the whole being intended to attract the

spirit (Hantu Gambor). In addition there is the usual circular tray,

with its complement of sacrificial rice and incense. Everything being

ready, the débutante lies down and is covered over with a sheet, and

incense is burnt, the sacrificial rice sprinkled, and the invocation

of the spirit is chanted by a woman to the accompaniment of the

tambourines. Ere it has ended, if all goes well, the charm will have

begun to work, the spirit descends, and the dance commences.

At the end of this dance, as has already been said, the spirit is

exorcised, that is, he is "escorted back" to the seventh heaven from

whence he came.

The invocations, which are used both at the commencement and

the conclusion of the performance, consist of poems which belong

unmistakably to the "Panji" cycle of stories; here and there they

contain old words which are still used in Java.

The "Monkey Dance" is achieved by causing the "Monkey spirit" to enter

into a girl of some ten years of age. She is first rocked to and fro

in a Malay infant's swinging-cot (buayan), and fed with areca-nut

and salt (pinang garam). When she is sufficiently dizzy or "dazed"

(mabok), an invocation addressed to the "Monkey spirit" is chanted

(to tambourine accompaniments), and at its close the child commences

to perform a dance, in the course of which she is said sometimes to

achieve some extraordinary climbing feats which she could never have

achieved unless "possessed." When it is time for her to recover her

senses she is called upon by name, and if that fails to recall her,

is bathed all over with cocoa-nut milk (ayer niyor hijau).

The foregoing does not, of course, in any way exhaust the list of Malay

dances. Others will be found described in various parts of this book,

amongst them the "Henna Dance" (at weddings); the medicine-man's dance,

as performed at the bedside of a sick person; the dance performed in

honour of a dead tiger; theatrical dances, and many kinds of sword and

dagger dances, or posture-dances (such as the main bersilat, or main

berpenchak), whether performed for the diversion of the beholders or by

way of defiance (as in war). The main dabus is a dance performed with

a species of iron spits, whose upper ends are furnished with hoops,

upon which small iron rings are strung, and which accordingly give

out a jingling noise when shaken. Two of these spits (buah dabus)

are charmed (to deaden their bite), and taken up, one in each hand,

by the dancer, who shakes them at each step that he takes. When he is

properly possessed, he drives the points of these spits through the

muscle of each forearm, and lets them hang down whilst he takes up a

second pair. He then keeps all four spits jingling at once until the

dance ceases. The point of each spit goes right through the muscle,

but if skilfully done, draws no blood. [689]

We now come to a class of dances in which certain inanimate objects,

that are believed to be temporarily animated, are the performers,

and which therefore closely correspond to the performances of our

own spiritualists.

The Palm-blossom dance is a very curious exhibition, which I once saw

performed in the Langat District of Selangor. Two freshly-gathered

sheaves of areca-palm blossom (each several feet in length) were

deposited upon a new mat, near a tray containing a censer and the

three kinds of sacrificial rice.

The magician ('Che Ganti by name) commenced the performance by playing

a prelude on his violin. Presently his wife (an aged Selangor woman)

took some of the rice in her hand and commenced to chant the words

of the invocation, she being almost immediately joined in the chant

by a younger woman. Starting with the words, "Thus I brace up,

I brace up the Palm-blossom" ('ku anggit mayang 'ku anggit), their

voices rose higher and higher until the seventh stanza was reached,

when the old woman covered the two sheaves of Palm-blossom with a

Malay plaid skirt (sarong) and the usual "five cubits of white cloth"

(folded double), both of which had of course first been fumigated. Then

followed seven more stanzas ("Borrow the hammer, Borrow the anvil,"

and its companion verses), and rice having been thrown over one of

the sheaves of palm-blossom, its sheath was opened and the contents

fumigated. Then the old woman took the newly-fumigated sheaf between

her hands, and the chant recommenced with the third septet of stanzas

("Dig up, dig up, the wild ginger plant"), as the erect palm-blossom

swayed from side to side in time to the music. Finally the fiddle

stopped and tambourines were substituted, and at this point the

sheaf of blossom commenced to jump about on its stalk, as if it were

indeed possessed, and eventually dashed itself upon the ground. After

one or two repetitions of this performance, other persons present

were invited to try it, and did so with varying success, which

depended, I was told, upon the impressionability of their souls,

as the palm-blossom would not dance for anybody whose soul was not

impressionable (lemah semangat).

When the first blossom-sheaf had been destroyed by the rough treatment

which it had to undergo, the second was duly fumigated and introduced

to the company, and finally the performance was brought to a close

by the chanting of the stanzas in which the spirit is requested to

return to his own place. The two spoiled sheaves of blossom were then

carried respectfully out of the house and laid on the ground beneath

a banana-tree.

The Dancing Fish-trap (main lukah) is a spiritualistic performance, in

which a fish-trap (lukah) is substituted for the sheaf of palm-blossom,

and a different invocation is used. In other respects there is very

little difference between the two. The fish-trap is dressed up much

in the same way as a "scare-crow," so as to present a rough and ready

resemblance to the human figure, i.e. it is dressed in a woman's

coat and plaid skirt (sarong), both of which must, if possible, have

been worn previously; a stick is run through it to serve as the arms

of the figure, and a (sterile) cocoa-nut shell (tempurong jantan)

clapped on the top to serve as a head. The invocation is then chanted

in the same manner and to the same accompaniment as that used for the

"Palm-blossom." At its conclusion the magician whispers, so to speak,

into the fish-trap's ear, bidding it "not to disgrace him," but rise

up and dance, and the fish-trap presently commences to rock to and

fro, and to leap about in a manner which of course proves it to be

"possessed" by the spirit. Two different specimens of the invocations

used will be found in the Appendix.

Buffalo Fights and Cock Fights

"The Malays are passionately addicted to buffalo and cock

fighting. Whole poems are devoted to enthusiastic descriptions of these

'sports of princes,' and laws laid down for the latter as minute as

those of the Hoyleian code." [690]

"The bulls have been trained and medicined for months beforehand, with

much careful tending, many strength-giving potions, and volumes of the

old-world charms, which put valour and courage into a beast. They stand

at each end of a piece of grassy lawn, with their knots of admirers

around them, descanting on their various points, and with the proud

trainer, who is at once keeper and medicine-man, holding them by the

cord which is passed through their nose-rings. Until you have seen

the water-buffalo stripped for the fight, it is impossible to conceive

how handsome the ugly brute can look. One has been accustomed to see

him with his neck bowed to the yoke he hates, and breaks whenever the

opportunity offers; or else in the pâdi fields. In the former case he

looks out of place,--an anachronism belonging to a prehistoric period,

drawing a cart which seems also to date back to the days before the

Deluge. In the fields the buffalo has usually a complete suit of grey

mud, and during the quiet evening hour goggles at you through the

clouds of flies which surround his flapping ears and brutal nose, the

only parts that can be seen of him above the surface of the mud-hole or

the running water of the river. In both cases he is unlovely, but in

the bull-ring he has something magnificent about him. His black coat

has a gloss upon it which would not disgrace a London carriage horse,

and which shows him to be in tip-top condition. His neck seems thicker

and more powerful than that of any other animal, and it glistens with

the chili water, which has been poured over it in order to increase

his excitement. His resolute shoulders, his straining quarters,--each

vying with the other for the prize for strength,--and his great girth,

give a look of astonishing vigour and vitality to the animal. It is

the head of the buffalo, however, which it is best to look at on these

occasions. Its great spread of horns is very imposing, and the eyes,

which are usually sleepy, cynically contemptuous and indifferent,

or sullenly cruel, are for once full of life, anger, passion, and

excitement. He stands there quivering and stamping, blowing great

clouds of smoke from his mouth and nose:--

"With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,

And with circles of red for his eye-socket's rim.

"The wild joy of battle is sending the blood boiling through the

great arteries of the beast, and his accustomed lethargic existence is

galvanised into a new fierce life. You can see that he is longing for

the battle with an ardour that would have distanced that of a Quixote,

and, for the first time, you begin to see something to admire even

in the water-buffalo.

"A crowd of Râjas, Chiefs, and commoners are assembled, in their

gaily-coloured garments, which always serve to give life and beauty

to every Malay picture, with its setting of brilliant never-fading

green. The women in their gaudy silks, and dainty veils, glance

coquettishly from behind the fenced enclosure which has been

prepared for their protection, and where they are quite safe from

injury. The young Râjas stalk about, examine the bulls, and give

loud and contradictory orders as to the manner in which the fight

is to be conducted. The keepers, fortunately, are so deafened by

the row which every one near them is making, that they are utterly

incapable of following directions which they cannot hear. Malays love

many people and many things, and one of the latter is the sound of

their own voices. When they are excited--and in the bull-ring they

are always wild with excitement--they wax very noisy indeed, and,

as they all talk, and no one listens to what any one else is saying,

the green sward on which the combat is to take place speedily becomes

a pandemonium, compared with which the Tower of Babel was a quiet

corner in Sleepy Hollow.

"At last the word to begin is given, and the keepers of the buffaloes

let out the lines made fast to the bulls' noses, and lead their charges

to the centre of the green. The lines are crossed, and then gradually

drawn taut, so that the bulls are soon facing one another. Then

the knots are loosed, and the cords slip from the nose-rings. A dead

silence falls upon the people, and for a moment the combatants eye one

another. Then they rush together, forehead to forehead, with a mighty

impact. A fresh roar rends the sky, the backers of each beast shrieking

advice and encouragement to the bull which carries their money.

"After the first rush, the bulls no longer charge, but stand with

interlaced horns, straining shoulders, and quivering quarters,

bringing tremendous pressure to bear one upon the other, while each

strives to get a grip with the point of its horns upon the neck,

or cheeks, or face of its opponent. A buffalo's horn is not sharp,

but the weight of the animal is enormous, and you must remember that

the horns are driven with the whole of the brute's bulk for lever

and sledgehammer. Such force as is exerted would be almost sufficient

to push a crowbar through a stone wall, and, tough though they are,

the hardest of old bull buffaloes is not proof against the terrible

pressure brought to bear. The bulls show wonderful activity and skill

in these fencing matches. Each beast gives way the instant that it

is warned by the touch of the horn-tip that its opponent has found

an opening, and woe betide the bull that puts its weight into a stab

which the other has time to elude. In the flick of an eye--as the

Malay phrase has it--advantage is taken of the blunder, and, before

the bull has time to recover its lost balance, its opponent has found

an opening, and has wedged its horn-point into the neck or cheek. When

at last a firm grip has been won, and the horn has been driven into

the yielding flesh, as far as the struggles of its opponent render

possible, the stabber makes his great effort. Pulling his hind-legs

well under him, and straightening his fore-legs to the utmost extent,

till the skin is drawn taut over the projecting bosses of bone at

the shoulders, and the knots of muscle stand out like cordage on a

crate, he lifts his opponent. His head is skewed on one side, so that

the horn on which his adversary is hooked is raised to the highest

level possible, and his massive neck strains and quivers with the

tremendous effort. If the stab is sufficiently low down, say in the

neck or under the cheek-bone, the wounded bull is often lifted clean

off his fore-feet, and hangs there helpless and motionless 'while a

man might count a score.' The exertion of lifting, however, is too

great to admit of its being continued for any length of time, and as

soon as the wounded buffalo regains its power of motion--that is to

say, as soon as its fore-feet are again on the ground--it speedily

releases itself from its adversary's horn. Then, since the latter

is often spent by the extraordinary effort which has been made, it

frequently happens that it is stabbed and lifted in its turn before

balance has been completely recovered.

"Once, and only once, have I seen a bull succeed in throwing his

opponent, after he had lifted it off its feet. The vanquished bull

turned over on its back before it succeeded in regaining its feet,

but the victor was itself too used up to more than make a ghost

of a stab at the exposed stomach of its adversary. This throw is

still spoken of in Pahang as the most marvellous example of skill

and strength which has ever been called forth within living memory

by any of these contests.

"As the stabs follow one another, to the sound of the clicking of the

horns and the mighty blowing and snorting of the breathless bulls,

lift succeeds lift with amazing rapidity. The green turf is stamped

into mud by the great hoofs of the labouring brutes, and at length

one bull owns himself to be beaten. Down goes his head--that sure

sign of exhaustion--and in a moment he has turned round and is off

on a bee-line, hotly pursued by the victor. The chase is never a long

one, as the conqueror always abandons it at the end of a few hundred

yards, but while it lasts it is fast and furious, and woe betide the

man who finds himself in the way of either of the excited animals.

"Mr. Kipling has told us all about the Law of the Jungle--which

after all is only the code of man, adapted to the use of the beasts

by Mr. Rudyard Kipling--but those who know the ways of buffaloes

are aware that they possess one very well-recognised law. This is,

'Thou shalt not commit trespass.' Every buffalo-bull has its own

ground; and into this no other bull willingly comes. If he is brought

there to do battle, he fights with very little heart, and is easily

vanquished by an opponent of half his strength and bulk who happens

to be fighting on his own land. When bulls are equally matched, they

are taken to fight on neutral ground. When they are badly matched

the land owned by the weaker is selected for the scene of the contest.

"All these fights are brutal, and in time they will, we trust,

be made illegal. To pass a prohibitionary regulation, however,

without the full consent of the Chiefs and people of Pahang would be

a distinct breach of the understanding on which British Protection

was accepted by them. The Government is pledged not to interfere

with native customs, and the sports in which animals are engaged are

among the most cherished institutions of the people of Pahang. To

fully appreciate the light in which any interference with these

things would be viewed by the native population, it is necessary to

put oneself in the position of a keen member of the Quorn, who saw

Parliament making hunting illegal, on the grounds that the sufferings

inflicted on the fox rendered it an inhuman pastime. As I have said

in a former chapter, the natives of Pahang are, in their own way, very

keen sportsmen indeed; and, when all is said and done, it is doubtful

whether hunting is not more cruel than anything which takes place in a

Malay cock-pit or bull-ring. The longer the run the better the sport,

and more intense and prolonged the agony of the fox, that strives to

run for his life, even when he is so stiff with exertion that he can do

little more than roll along. All of us have, at one time or another,

experienced in nightmares the agony of attempting to fly from some

pursuing phantom, when our limbs refuse to serve us. This, I fancy,

is much what a fox suffers, only his pains are intensified by the

grimness of stern reality. If he stops he loses his life, therefore

he rolls, and flounders, and creeps along when every movement has

become a fresh torture. The cock, quail, dove, bull, ram, or fish,

[691] on the other hand, fights because it is his nature to do so,

and when he has had his fill he stops. His pluck, his pride, and his

hatred of defeat alone urge him to continue the contest. He is never

driven by the relentless whip of stern, inexorable necessity. This it

is which makes fights between animals, that are properly conducted,

less cruel than one is apt to imagine." [692]

I will now pass to the subject of cock-fighting, of which the

following vivid description is also taken from Mr. Clifford's In

Court and Kampong. [693]

"In the Archipelago, and on the West Coast of the Peninsula,

cock-fights are conducted in the manner known to the Malays as

ber-tâji, the birds being armed with long artificial spurs, sharp as

razors, and curved like a Malay woman's eyebrow. These weapons make

cruel wounds, and cause the death of one or other of the combatants

almost before the sport has well begun. To the Malay of the East Coast

this form of cock-fighting is regarded as stupid and unsportsmanlike,

an opinion which I fully share. It is the marvellous pluck and

endurance of the birds that lend an interest to a cock-fight--qualities

which are in no way required if the birds are armed with weapons

other than those with which they are furnished by nature.

"A cock-fight between two well-known birds is a serious affair in

Pahang. The rival qualities of the combatants have furnished food for

endless discussion for weeks, or even months, before, and every one

of standing has visited and examined the cocks, and has made a book

upon the event. On the day fixed for the fight a crowd collects before

the palace, and some of the King's youths set up the cock-pit, which

is a ring, about three feet in diameter, enclosed by canvas walls,

supported on stakes driven into the ground. Presently the Juâra,

or cock-fighters, appear, each carrying his bird under his left

arm. They enter the cock-pit, squat down, and begin pulling at,

and shampooing the legs and wings of their birds, in the manner

which Malays believe loosen the muscles, and get the reefs out of

the cocks' limbs. Then the word is given to start the fight, and the

birds, released, fly straight at one another, striking with their

spurs, and sending feathers flying in all directions. This lasts

for perhaps three minutes, when the cocks begin to lose their wind,

and the fight is carried on as much with their beaks as with their

spurs. Each bird tries to get its head under its opponent's wing,

running forward to strike at the back of its antagonist's head, as

soon as its own emerges from under its temporary shelter. This is

varied by an occasional blow with the spurs, and the Malays herald

each stroke with loud cries of approval. Bâsah! Bâsah! 'Thou hast

wetted him! Thou hast drawn blood!' Ah itu dia! 'That is it! That is

a good one!' Ah sâkit-lah itu! 'Ah, that was a nasty one!' And the

birds are exhorted to make fresh efforts, amid occasional burst of the

shrill chorus of yells, called sôrak, their backers cheering them on,

and crying to them by name.

"Presently time is called, the watch being a small section of cocoa-nut

in which a hole has been bored, that is set floating on the surface

of a jar of water, until it gradually becomes filled and sinks. At

the word, each cock-fighter seizes his bird, drenches it with water,

cleans out with a feather the phlegm which has collected in its throat,

and shampoos its legs and body. Then, at the given word, the birds are

again released, and they fly at one another with renewed energy. They

lose their wind more speedily this time, and thereafter they pursue

the tactics already described until time is again called. When some

ten rounds have been fought, and both the birds are beginning to

show signs of distress, the interest of the contest reaches its

height, for the fight is at an end if either bird raises its back

feathers in a peculiar manner, by which cocks declare themselves to

be vanquished. Early in the tenth round the right eye-ball of one

cock is broken, and, shortly after, the left eye is bunged up, so

that for the time it is blind. Nevertheless, it refuses to throw up

the sponge, and fights on gallantly to the end of the round, taking

terrible punishment, and doing but little harm to its opponent. One

cannot but be full of pity and admiration for the brave bird, which

thus gives so marvellous an example of its pluck and endurance. At

last time is called, and the cock-fighter who is in charge of the

blinded bird, after examining it carefully, asks for a needle and

thread, and the swollen lower lid of the still uninjured eye-ball

is sewn to the piece of membrane on the bird's cheek, and its sight

is thus once more partially restored. Again time is called, and the

birds resume their contest, the cock with the injured eye repaying its

adversary so handsomely for the punishment which it had received in

the previous round, that, before the cocoa-nut shell is half full of

water, its opponent has surrendered, and has immediately been snatched

up by the keeper in charge of it. The victorious bird, draggled and

woebegone, with great patches of red flesh showing through its wet

plumage, with the membrane of its face and its short gills and comb

swollen and bloody, with one eye put out, and the other only kept

open by the thread attached to its eyelid, yet makes shift to strut,

with staggering gait, across the cock-pit, and to notify its victory

by giving vent to a lamentable ghost of a crow. Then it is carried

off followed by an admiring, gesticulating, vociferous crowd, to be

elaborately tended and nursed, as befits so gallant a bird. The beauty

of the sport is that either bird can stop fighting at any moment. They

are never forced to continue the conflict if once they have declared

themselves defeated, and the only real element of cruelty is thus

removed. The birds in fighting follow the instinct which nature

has implanted in them, and their marvellous courage and endurance

surpass anything to be found in any other animals, human or otherwise,

with which I am acquainted. Most birds fight more or less--from the

little fierce quail to the sucking doves which ignorant Europeans,

before their illusions have been dispelled by a sojourn in the East,

are accustomed to regard as the emblems of peace and purity; but no

bird, or beast, or fish, or human being fights so well, or takes such

pleasure in the fierce joy of battle, as does a plucky, lanky, ugly,

hard-bit old fighting-cock.

"The Malays regard these birds with immense respect, and value their

fighting-cocks next to their children. A few years ago, a boy, who

was in charge of a cock which belonged to a Râja of my acquaintance,

accidentally pulled some feathers from the bird's tail. 'What did

you do that for? Devil!' cried the Râja.

"'It was not done on purpose, Ungku!' said the boy.

"'Thou art marvellous clever at repartee!' quoth the Prince, and,

so saying, he lifted a billet of wood, which chanced to be lying near

at hand, and smote the boy on the head so that he died.

"'That will teach my people to have a care how they use my

fighting-cocks!' said the Râja; and that was his servant's epitaph.

"'It is a mere boyish prank,' said the father of the young Râja, when

the matter was reported to him, 'and, moreover, it is well that he

should slay one or two with his own hand, else how should men learn

to fear him?' And there the matter ended; but it should be borne in

mind that the fighting-cock of a Malay Prince is not to be lightly

trifled with."

Of the form of cock-fighting practised on the West Coast of the

Peninsula Newbold writes:--

"The following is a specimen from a Malay MS. on the subject,

commencing with remarks on the various breeds of this noble bird:--

"The best breeds of game-cocks are the Biring, the Jalak, the Teddong,

the Chenantan, [694] the Ijou, the Pilas, the Bongkas, [695] the Su,

the Belurong, [696] and the Krabu. [697]

"The colour of the Biring is red with yellow feet and beak.

"The Jalak is white mixed with black, with yellow feet, and beak also

yellow mixed with black.

"The Teddong has black eyes and legs, red and black plumage, and

a black beak. It is named from a sort of serpent, whose bite is

accounted mortal.

"The Chenantan has white feathers, feet, and beak.

"The Ijou has a greenish black beak, feathers black mixed with white,

legs green.

"The Pilas has a black beak, red and black feathers, legs white mixed

with black.

"The Bongkas has a yellow beak, white feathers and yellow feet.

"The Su has a white beak with white spots, plumage white and black,

legs white with black spots.

"The Belurong has a white beak with red spots, plumage red, white feet.

"The Krabu has a red beak mixed with yellow, red feathers and yellow

feet.

"There are two kinds of spurs: first, the Golok Golok, in the form of

a straight knife known by this name and in use with the Malays; and,

secondly, the Taji Benkok, or curved spur: the last is most in vogue.

"There are various modes of tying on the spur, viz. Salik, or below the

natural spur; Kumbar, on a level with it; Panggong, above the spur;

Sa ibu Tangan, a thumb's breadth below the knee joint; Sa Kalinking,

a little finger's breadth; Andas Bulu, close to the feathers under the

knee; Jankir, upon the little toe; Sauh wongkang, on the middle toe;

Berchingkama, tying the three large toes together with the spur--this

is the most advantageous; Golok, binding the little toe and the toe on

the left with the spur; Golok di Battang, below the natural spur. It is

necessary to observe that the Malays generally use one spur; though two

spurs are sometimes given to match a weaker against a stronger bird.

"1. The winner takes the dead bird.

"2. If a drawn battle (Sri) each takes his own.

"3. No person but the holder shall interfere with the cocks after

they have been once set to, even if one of them run away, except by

the permission of the Juara, or setter-to. Should any person do so,

and the cock eventually win the battle, the owners shall be entitled

to half the stakes only.

"4. Should one of the cocks run away, and the wounded one pursue

it, both birds shall be caught and held by their Juaras. Should the

runaway cock refuse to peck at its adversary three times, the wings

shall be twined over the back, and it shall be put on the ground for

its adversary to peck at; should he too refuse, after it has been

three times presented, it is a Sri, or drawn battle. The cock that

pecks wins.

"5. The stakes on both sides must be forthcoming and deposited on

the spot.

"6. A cock shall not be taken up unless the spur be broken, even by

the Juaras.

"When a cock has won his disposition changes.

"A cock is called Cheyma when he chooses round grains of paddy,

or fights with his shadow, or spurs or pecks at people.

"The Malays believe in the influence of certain periods in the day

over the breeds of cocks. They will not bet upon a bird with black

plumage that is matched against one with yellow and white at the period

Kutika Miswara; nor against a black one set to with a white one at

the period Kutika Kala. Kutika Sri is favourable in this case for

the white feathered bird. Kutika Brahma is propitious to a red cock

matched against a light grey; and Kutika Vishnu for a green cock. [698]

"I once witnessed a grand contest between two Malayan States at the

breaking up of the Ramazan fast. Most of the cock-fighters presented

themselves at the Golongan or cock-pit with a game-cock under each

arm. The birds were not trimmed as in England, but fought in full

feather. The spurs used on this occasion were about two and a half

inches long, in shape like the blade of a scythe, and were sharpened

on the spot by means of a fine whetstone; large gashes were inflicted

by these murderous instruments, and it rarely happened that both cocks

survived the battle. Cocks of the same colour are seldom matched. The

weight is adjusted by the setters-to passing them to and from each

other's hands as they sit facing each other in the Golongan. Should

there be any difference, it is brought down to an equality by the spur

being fixed so many scales higher on the leg of the heavier cock, or

according to rules adverted to, as deemed fair by both parties. One

spur only is used, and is generally fastened near the natural spur

on the inside of the left leg. In adjusting these preliminaries

the professional skill of the setters-to is called into action, and

much time is taken up in grave deliberation, which often terminates

in wrangling. The birds, after various methods of irritating them

have been practised, are then set to. During the continuance of

the battle, the excitement and interest taken by the Malays in the

barbarous exhibition is vividly depicted in their animated looks and

gestures--everything they possess in the world being often staked on

the issue.

"The breed of cocks on the Peninsula more resembles the game-fowl

of England than the large lanky breed known in Europe under the term

'Malay.' Great attention is paid by natives to the breed and feeding

of game-cocks." [699]

Games

"Gambling of various descriptions, both with dice and with cards, is

much in vogue. These, as well as the poe-table, have been introduced

by the Chinese, who are even greater adepts than the Malays in all

that relates to this pernicious vice.

"Saparaga [700] is a game resembling football, played by ten or twenty

youths and men, who stand in a circle, keeping up a hollow ratan ball

in the air, which is passed to and fro by the action of the knees and

feet--the object being to prevent the ball from touching the ground;

it is frequently, however, taken at the rebound. The awkwardness of

novices occasions great merriment.

"The Sangheta [701] is a game implicating broken heads; but,

properly speaking, is a 'vi et armis' mode of arbitration in matters

of dispute between two Sukus or tribes. A certain number of men from

each tribe turn out and pelt each other with sticks and logs of wood,

until one of the parties gives in. The victors in this petty tourney

are presumed to have the right on their side.

"The Malays are remarkably attached to singing reciprocal Pantuns,

stanzas comprising four alternate rhyming lines, of which notice has

been taken elsewhere. Poetical contests in the Bucolic style are often

carried on to a great length by means of Pantuns. To music Malays

are passionately devoted, particularly to that of the violin. They

evince a good ear, and great readiness in committing to memory even

European airs. A voyage or journey of any length is seldom undertaken

by the better classes without a minstrel.

"Takki Takki [702] are riddles and enigmas, to the propounding and

solving of which the females and educated classes of the people are

much inclined.

"The games played by children are Tujoh Lobang, [703] Punting, Chimpli,

Kechil Krat, Kuboh, etc." [704]

Of all minor games, top-spinning and kite-flying are perhaps the most

popular. The kites are called layang-layang, which means a "swallow,"

but are sometimes of great size, one which was brought to me at Langat

measuring some six feet in height by about seven feet between the tips

of the wings. The peculiarity of the Malay kite is that it presents a

convex, instead of a concave, surface to the wind, and that no "tail"

is required, the kite being steadied by means of a beak which projects

forward at the top of the framework. They are also usually provided

with a thin, horizontal slip of bamboo (dengong) stretched tightly

behind the beak, and which hums loudly in the wind. They are of a

great number of different but well-recognised patterns, such as the

"Fighting Dragons" (Naga berjuang), the Crescent (Sahari bulan),

the Eagle (Rajawali), the Bird of Paradise (Chendrawasih), and so

forth. A small kind of roughly-made kite is, as is well known, used

at Singapore for fishing purposes, but I have never yet met with any

instance of their being used ceremonially, though it is quite certain

that grown-ups will fly them with quite as much zest as children.

Top-spinning, again, is a favourite pastime among the Malays, and is

played by old and young of all ranks with the same eagerness. [705]

The most usual form of top is not unlike the English pegtop, but has

a shorter peg. It is spun in the same way and with the same object

as our own pegtop, the object being to split the top of one's opponent.

Teetotums are also used, and I have seen in Selangor a species of

bamboo humming-top, but was told that it was copied from a humming-top

used by the Chinese.

"The game of chess, which has been introduced from Arabia, [706]

is played in almost precisely the same manner as among Europeans,

but the queen, instead of being placed upon her own colour, is

stationed at the right hand of the king. In the Malay game the king,

if he has not been checked, can be castled, but over one space only,

not over two, as in the English game. The king may, also, before he

is checked or moved from his own square, move once, like a knight,

either to left or right, and he may also, if he has not moved or

been checked, move once over two vacant squares instead of one." The

following are the names of the pieces:--

1. Raja, the King.

2. Mentri ("Minister"), the Queen.

3. Têr or Tor, the Castle.

4. Gajah ("Elephant"), the Bishop.

5. Kuda ("Horse"), the Knight.

6. Bidak, the Pawns. [707]

Main chongkak, again, is a game played with a board (papan chongkak)

consisting of a boat-shaped block.

In the top of this block (where the boat's deck would be) are sunk

a double row of holes, the rows containing eight holes each, and two

more holes are added, one at each end. Each of the eight holes (in both

rows) is filled at starting with eight buah gorek (the buah gorek being

the fruit of a common tree, also called kelichi in Malacca). There are

usually two players who pick the buah gorek out of the holes in turn,

and deposit them in the next hole according to certain fixed rules of

numerical combination, a solitary buah gorek, wherever it is found,

being put back and compelled to recommence its journey down the board.

A similar game is, I believe, known in many parts of the East, and

was formerly much played even by Malay slaves, who used to make the

double row of holes in the ground when no board was obtainable.

The Malay game of Draughts (main dam) is played, I believe, in exactly

the same manner as the English game. Backgammon (main tabal), on the

other hand, is played in two different ways.

The "Tiger" Game (main rimau), or "Tiger and Goat" Game (main rimau

kambing), is a game which has a distinct resemblance to our own "fox

and goose," there being usually four tigers to a dozen of the goats.

Cards

"Cards are called Kertas sakopong. The Malays are fond of card games,

but few Europeans have taken the trouble to understand or describe

them. The late Sir W. E. Maxwell contributed the following description

of daun tiga 'lei to the Notes and Queries of the Journal of the

Straits Asiatic Society. It refers to the game in question as played

in Perak:--

"Hearts, Lekoh. King, Raja.

Diamonds, Retin. Queen, Bandahara

Clubs, Kalalawar. Knave, Pekah.

Spades, Sakopong. Ace, Sat.

To shuffle, Kiyat, mengiyat.

To deal, Membawa.

To cut, Kerat.

To sweep the board, make everyone pay, Mengelong.

"Three cards are dealt out to each player. The highest hand counting

by pips is that which contains the greatest number of pips after the

tens are deducted. Thus a knave, ten, and nine is a good hand.

"The best hand is three aces, Sat tiga.

"The next best is three court-cards, Kuda; naik kuda.

"The next is nine.

"The next is eight.

"All these four hands are known as terus. A hand of three threes is

really a good hand, being nine, but it is considered a propitiation

of good luck to throw it down (without exposing it), and announce

that one is buta, in the hopes of getting good luck afterwards.

"Each player makes two stakes--kapala and ekor. They may be of equal

value, or the ekor may be of greater value than the kapala.

"The kapala must not be of greater value than the ekor; that is called

tual ka ujong (tual = berat).

"Or there may be a single stake only, which is called podul.

"Betting between players is called sorong, or tuwi, or sorong tuwi.

"A pool, tuwi tengah.

"The ekor stake is only paid to the dealer if he holds one of the

hands called terus, and if a smaller hand is held by a player, then

the dealer takes both kapala and ekor (mengelong).

"A player who holds thirty exactly (except when he has three

court-cards, kuda) is said to be out (buta).

"Any one except the player on the right of the dealer may cut. The

player who cuts looks at the bottom card of those that he lifts,

and if he thinks it is a lucky cut he accepts it and puts down the

card he has lifted (pengerat).

"The dealer then puts the rest of the pack on top of the cut, and in

his turn lifts a portion of the pack (pengangkat), and looks at the

bottom card.

"There are all sorts of names for different cards and combinations of

cards of various degrees of luck, and these are quoted by the cutter

and dealer, each declaring his confidence in the luck coming to him

by reason of the cutting or lifting of a particular card.

Five of clubs, Tiang ampat Penghulu chelong.

Chukup dengan gambala-nia.

Nine of diamonds, Bunga kachang raja budiman.

Ten of clubs, Gagak sa-kawan raja di-hilir.

Singgah makan pedindang masak.

Masak pun lalu muda pun lalu.

Ace of diamonds if cut, Buntut kris Raja Bandahara.

Do. if the hands of the dealer, Anak yatim jalan sa'orang.

Satu pun tidak marabahaya.

Two of diamonds, Semut ginting Che Amat pelak.

Two of hearts, Batang jamban.

Six is an unlucky card, Daun anam jahanam.

Nine of hearts, Hari panas kubang ber-ayer.

"A player does not hastily look at his three cards and learn his fate

at once, but he prolongs the excitement by holding his cards tight

together, and looking alternately at the outside ones, and last of

all at the middle one, sliding out the latter between the two others

little by little. Thus it is left uncertain for some time whether a

card is an eight or a seven, a nine or a ten.

"A man to whom a court-card, an eight, and an ace is dealt (if

the eight is in the middle), on finding that he has eleven by the

two outside ones, says, for instance, Handak kaki tiga, and then

commences to slide out the middle card, hoping that it is going to

be an eight, or at all events a seven (three pips on each side). This

particular hand is called lang siput, because it is certain to carry

off something.

"A man who has just held a winning hand will say, in expressing

a hope of continued good luck, 'Teman handak pisang sarabu, sudah

sa-batang sa-batang pula.' (The plantain called sarabu is one which

puts out fruit from every stem of the perdu about the same time,

or one immediately after another.)" [708]

The following account of card games as played in Selangor was compiled

some years ago by the writer. The names of the cards used in Selangor

are these:--

Hearts, Lekok or Pangkah.

Diamonds, Reten (retim), or Chiduk.

Clubs, K'lawer, or Kelalawer.

Spades, Dayong Kling, or Sakopong.

King, Raja.

Queen, Proh, or Nyonya.

Knave, Pekak, or Hamba.

Ace, Sat.

To shuffle, Banchoh, or Menggaul.

To deal, Membagi.

To cut, K'rat.

To sweep the board, Merelong, or Mengg'long.

To pay all round, Mendader chingkeh.

A picture or court card, Angkong, or Kuda.

A three, Jalor (e.g. two threes, dua jalor).

A card (ordinary), Daun.

A sequence, G'lik (Daun sa-g'lik).

The three most important card games are--(1) main sakopong, (2)

main chabut, (3) main tiga 'lei, or pakau.

1. In the game called sakopong all cards from two to six are cast

out, and five cards are dealt out to each of the players (who may

be from two to four in number); a player leads (turunkan) the card,

and the next player has either to follow suit (turunkan daun sagaji)

or throw down a card, turning it over (susupkan). If the next player

is able to follow suit, whoever plays the highest card of the suit

wins. If each player wins a trick it is declared drawn (s'ri), and

in this case all stakes are returned.

2. Main chabut is a species of vingt-et-un, and is played with either

twenty-one or thirty-one points. If twenty-one points only is the game,

court-cards are not counted; but if the game is thirty-one points

they are also added in. Two cards are dealt by the dealer (perdi)

to each player, who draws (chabut) fresh cards from the bottom of

the pack in his turn, and gets as near as possible to thirty-one. If

he thinks he cannot safely draw another card (e.g. after twenty-six

pips are in his hand) he "passes" (which is called b'lit kechil if he

stops at twenty-six, twenty-seven, or twenty-eight, and b'lit besar

if he stops at twenty-nine or thirty).

If he obtains exactly thirty-one pips he is said to "enter the points"

(masok mata); but no player can draw more than seven cards, and if he

has, after drawing to the full limit, still failed to obtain as many

pips as he wants, he is said to "enter the pack" (masok daun). I may

add that the first two cards are called lunas or "keels," and this

may be of various kinds, e.g.:--

1. Lunas nikah, i.e. angkong dengan sat (a court-card and an ace).

2. Kachang di-rendang di-tugalkan, i.e. two aces; a very convenient

hand, as the aces may be reckoned as either one or eleven, as

occasion may require.

3. Lunas sa-glabat, or sagaji ampat-b'las, i.e. angkong dengan daun

ampat (court-card and four).

4. Lunas dua jalor, two threes.

5. Ace and two, which is the best of all.

In playing chabut or "casting out," the tens should be thrown away

(di-buang daun puloh). When two players have the same number of

pips--e.g. nine and nine or eight and eight--the coincidence is

described in the words, Jumpa di jalan, di-adu, kalah, di-chabut,

mati. To be "bluffed" is called kena ranjau (wounded by a caltrop).

And again, when a player has obtained, let us say, twenty-six pips

with six cards, and so has only one more chance, and is afraid to

risk it, his position is ridiculed in the phrase, Sa-nepak Ulu Klang,

a jest of obviously local coinage.

The phrase Tengah tiang (half mast), again, is applied to twenty-five

pips held irrespective of the number of cards; and if more than

thirty-one are obtained, the player is said to be out (mati, or

masok piring).

3. Daun tiga 'lei or Pakau is played here as follows:--

Three cards are dealt by the dealer to each player, and the winner

is he who holds the greatest number of pips, with certain exceptions.

Daun t'rus The best hand is three aces (tiga sat).

The next is three threes (tiga jalor).

The next is three tens (tiga puloh).

The next is three court-cards (tiga angkong or

tiga kuda).

Of other hands the best is a remainder of nine

pips left after deducting ten from a hand of

nineteen pips.

The next is a remainder of eight pips, and so

on.

A hand of three threes, it will be observed, is the second best hand

in Selangor, whereas in Perak, according to Sir W. E. Maxwell, it is

thrown away as the worst.

The stakes, which are deposited in two heaps by each player, are

here called kapala or "head," and buntut (or ekor), the "tail,"

respectively; the kapala being generally, though perhaps not always,

greater than the ekor in Selangor, instead of the reverse. The latter

can only be lost when a player sweeps the board. A single stake,

again, is podul (or occasionally tual), but bertuwi is applied to

betting between players, and sorong or tokong means to put down a

stake before your rival replies with a counter-stake (berteban or

topah). A player who holds thirty exactly is not out here--e.g.,

he may hold a court-card and two tens. To look at the bottom card is

menengo' angkatan.

Sir W. E. Maxwell gives a number of names and phrases applied to

particular cards and combinations of cards, to which I may add--

Two nines and a two--China Keh mengandar ayer.

An eight and an ace (making nine) with a court-card, or a ten and

two nines--Sembilang bertelor.

Two court-cards and a nine--Parak hari 'nak siang.

The four of any suit--Tiang jamban Lebai `Ali.

The explanation of handak kaki tiga, as applied to an eight, appears

to be that the eight has three pips on each side. It is also called

berisi sa-b'lah. Minta' penoh (I ask for a full one) means I want

a nine (?), and minta' tombak (I ask for a lance), I want two pips

(or three, as the case may be).

Besides the above, there are miniature or bijou cards

(cheki)--e.g. cheki dua-b'las, cheki lima-b'las and 'tan or beretan

daun sambilan, etc., the daun cheki being distinguished by their

borders, e.g. iyu kuching, iyu nyonya, iyu panjang, iyu merak besar,

iyu kasut; and again gapet, gapet k'rang, gapet rintek, gapet lichin;

babi, babi rintek, babi pusat, babi lichin; kau merah, kau bulat,

kau lichin; layer, layer rintek, layer pitis, layer lichin. Six to

seven people play these games. A sort of whist is also played from

time to time under the name of main trup. At this game a trick is

called sapudi; to sweep the board is pukol tani; and the players who

get no tricks at all are said to be sold up (kena kot). [709]

Children's Games

I will now give some specimens of the games I have seen played by

children:--

"Throwing the Flower across" (champak bunga sa-b'lah) is a game which

I have seen thus played by boys.

A handkerchief was twisted up (like a rope) from corner to corner,

folded in half, and then tied together at the ends.

Two couples stood facing one another at a few yards' distance, and at

a given signal one of the boys in each couple took his companion up

on to his shoulders. The two who were mounted threw the handkerchief

across to each other, and back again by turns. When the one failed

to catch it, both riders dismounted and offered backs to their late

"mounts," who thus became riders, and threw the handkerchief in their

turn. Each time, however, that a catch was made both parties crossed

over. When three catches were made in unbroken succession (kelerik)

the riders had the privilege of being carried across three times

before recommencing play.

I should add that a coin was tossed up at the outset of the game to

decide who were to start as the riders, and who were to be the ridden.

Main Sesel (or Kachau kueh) bears a strong family resemblance to our

own "Hen and chickens." When I witnessed it, a big boy played the

"Paterfamilias" with a string of children at his back, each of whom

was holding on to the one in front of him. Presently a "Cakeseller"

presented himself, and the following conversation ensued:--

Paterfamilias: Ada kueh? (Have you any cake?)

Cakeseller: Ada. (I have.)

P.F.: Buleh aku b'li? (Can I buy some?)

C.: Buleh. (Yes.)

Here the Cakeseller hands a ball of earth to Paterfamilias, who passes

it down the line of children to the youngest child at the end of the

row. The conversation then recommenced--

Cakeseller: Aku minta' duit. (I want my money.)

P.F.: Duit t'ada, anak kunchi tinggal di jamban. (I have got no

money, I have mislaid the key.) Kalau mahu ambil budak, ambil

yang di-b'lakang. (If you wish to take one of my children, take

the last.)

Here a desperate effort was made by the poor Cakeseller to dodge

past Paterfamilias and get at the boy, whom he eventually succeeded

in carrying off.

Main Tul is a game somewhat resembling our own "Puss in the corner,"

but with only one "home." The "home" consisted of a stake planted

upright, and the first "Puss" (orang tul) was selected by a species of

divination depending upon repetition of the same formula as is used to

select the blind man in Blind Man's Buff (Main China Buta). There was

(as I have said) only one home in this game, from which the players

sallied forth to taunt the orang tul, and which they were obliged to

touch in order to save themselves when closely pursued.

Main Seladang (Wild Bull game) is an excellent game for children with

the shoeless feet of the East. A "wild bull" having been selected

by repetition of the Ping hilang formula, went upon all fours, and

entered into the following conversation between himself and one of the

other players specially selected for the purpose. The latter opened

negotiations with the clearly non-committal, if not very lucid remark,

"Tam tam kul" to which the "Bull" replied, "Buat apa guna bakul"

(What are you going to do with your basket?)

Boy: Mengisi arang. (To hold charcoal.)

Bull: Buat apa guna arang? (What will you do with the charcoal?)

Boy: Menempa (or masak) lembing. (I shall forge a spear.)

Bull: Buat apa guna lembing? (What use will you make of the spear?)

Boy: Menikam seladang. (To stab a bull with.)

Bull (who is getting excited): Buat apa guna di-tikam? (What use will

it be to stab him?)

Boy: Mengambil hati-nya. (To get his heart.)

Bull (who is now fairly savage): Buat apa guna hati-nya? (What use

will you make of his heart?)

Boy: Buat santap Raja Muda. (Get the Crown Prince to partake (of it).)

The Bull at the end of this baiting was ready to "charge" anybody

and everything, and did accordingly run at the rest of the players,

kicking out with all his might at anybody who came near. As he had

to move on all fours he could not go very fast, and the other players

took advantage of this to bait him still further by slapping him on the

back and jumping over him. Whenever they came near enough he lashed

out with his heels, and when he succeeded in kicking another player

below the knee, the latter became a Bull in his turn. Much agility

is displayed in this game, which is thoroughly enjoyed by the players.

"Blind Man's Buff" (Main China Buta, or "Blind Chinaman") is played in

exactly the same manner as our own Blind Man's Buff; one of the party,

with bandaged eyes, being required to catch any one who comes near him.

The first blind man--at the commencement of the game--is chosen as

follows: the intending players sit down together in a close circle,

each of them putting down the tips of their forefingers in the centre

of the circle; then somebody who is not playing taps each of them

on the head in turn, repeating at each tap a word of the following

formula:--

1 2 3 4

ping hilang patah paku

plate (=piring?) disappear break nail

5 6 7 8

dalam biling chhari aku

within chamber (=bilek?) search for me

9 10 11 12

ping 'dah 'ning 'dah

got clear(?) got

13

hilang.

disappear.

The meaning of this formula (as is the case with so many "nursery"

rhymes) is very obscure, several words being unintelligible or at

least doubtful. It is, however, the regular formula used for such

games and is quite common. [710]

Chan chan siku rembat is a game which I saw played in Selangor as

follows:--

The intending players stood in a row, looking straight in front of

them, but with their hands behind their backs, whilst another boy, who

had a piece of wood in his hand, walked down the line touching their

hands and counting as he went the words of the following refrain:--

1 2 3 4

chan chan siku rembat

5 6 7 8

buah lalu di- b'lakang

the fruit (or ball) is passing behind (you)

9 10 11 12

mata pejam tangan lihat

your eyes (are) closed (but your) hand sees!

13 14 15 16

siapa chepat dia melompat

whoever (is) nimble (let) him take the leap.

The "fruit" (or piece of wood, as the case may be) was left in the

palm of one of the boys, and as soon as the reciter came to the end of

the rhyme the boy with the token had to jump out of the ranks before

he was stopped by the boys on each side of him, each of whom suddenly

stretched out his legs for the purpose of tripping up the runaway. When

they touched him he lost his turn, but if he succeeded in getting

clear without being touched he obtained the privilege of going to the

other end of the ground and calling any boy he chose out of the ranks

to carry him back again, at the invitation of the late spokesman. On

his return he was stopped in front of the ranks with the challenge:--

Q. Datang de'mana? (Whence do you come?)

A. Datang de' Bali. (I come from Bali.)

Q. Apa di-bawa? (What do you bring?)

A. Bawa kuali. (I bring a cooking-pot.)

Q. Siapa nakhoda? (Who is the master (of the vessel)?)

A. Nakhoda 'Che `Ali. ('Che `Ali is the master.)

Q. Mana sampan tunda? (Where is the boat you were towing?)

A. Putus tali. (Parted from the rope.)

Q. Mana pas? (Where is your pass?)

In reply to this last question the pass (i.e. the fruit or piece of

wood) was shown and both boys rejoined the ranks, whereupon the game

recommenced da capo.

Hantu Musang or "The Pole-cat Fiend," is a game in which a boy sits

down (between two others) with a cloth thrown over his head, the

ends of which are twisted up (like rope ends) by the two boys on each

side of him; the cloth fits his head like a cap, with a long end at

the back and in front. First the boy in front pulls his end of the

cloth and then the boy at the back pulls his end, thus causing the

boy between them to rock to and fro. This treatment is continued for

some time while they repeat the following rhyme:--

Chok gelechok ....

Gali-gali ubi. A-digging tapioca

Mana kayu bongkok Wherever (there is) knotted timber

Disitu musang jadi. There the pole-cat breeds.

Chang gulichang ....

Serak bunga lada Scatter (?) pepper-blossom.

Datang hantu musang The pole-cat fiend has arrived

Ayam sa'ekor t'ada. And not a fowl is left.

As soon as this rhyme is finished the two outside boys make off as

fast as they can, pursued by the "pole-cat," who is allowed to give

a really good bite (in the arm) to the first person he overtakes.

Main Tunggul.--This game I saw played with four boys a side. A

boy was selected to represent the tunggul or stump, and took up his

position at a little distance (about half-way between the two parties

as they stood facing each other a few yards apart). Up to the stump

(tunggul) a boy from each of the sides alternately ran and whispered

the name of a boy belonging to the opposite party. This whispering

was continued until the names of the two boys selected happened to

agree, the tunggul then making a gesture, at which the boys of one

of the sides crossed over and carried back on their shoulders the

boys belonging to the opposite side.

Kuching (the Cat Game) was a mere guessing game. The "guesser,"

or witness (saksi), stood at a little distance with his face turned

away whilst another boy was selected to play "puss," and yet another

boy was permitted to twitch him on the ear or wherever else he might

prefer. Then the "witness" was told to turn round, and going up to the

"cat" he made his guess.

Sorok-sorok is merely the Malay equivalent of our hide-and-seek,

with the exception that whereas hide-and-seek may be played by day as

well as by night, the game of sorok-sorok should properly be played

at night alone.

Main Galah Panjang.--A square of ground is marked out into four

quarters by a cross (as in the accompanying figure), and on it a game

not unlike our own "Tom Tiddler's Ground" is played (by three players

on each side). The name means the "Long Pole" game.

Another child's game is called Sanebang, and is played as follows:--

Two players sit down on the floor facing each other and chant the

following rhyme, one of them lightly touching the other's left arm

in time to the music:--

Sanebang sanebu Sanebang! sanebu!

Kuala Sambau At the mouth of the (river) Sambau

Ujan bunut In the drizzling rain

Mandi katong Bathes the Katong, [711]

Sentak pelok Twitch and embrace

Tangan Tuan Putri The Princess's hand.

The well-known game called Sapu-sapu 'Ringin I have seen played

as follows:--

Two players sit down on the floor opposite each other, with their legs

stretched out straight in front of them and their hands in their laps,

and join in singing these lines:--

Sapu-sapu beringin, Brush, brush the banyan-tree,

Katimbun dayong-dayong, A pile of oars lies stacked;

Datang 'Che Aji Lebai Here comes 'Che Aji Lebai

Bawa buaya kudong. Bringing a maimed crocodile:

Kudong kaki, kudong tangan, Maimed in foot and maimed in hand,

Tiada buleh berpulangan. It can't go home again.

Here both players double up one leg under them as they sit; then they

repeat the lines just quoted, doubling up the left leg at the end of

the recital; then they close the fists and pile them one on each other,

the lowest resting on one of the player's knees, and say--

Pong along-along ......

Kerinting riang-riang, Crick-crick (?) (sing) the crickets (?)

Ketapong kebalok ......

Minyak `Arab, minyak sapi, Arabian oil and ghee; [712]

Pechah telor sa-biji. Here's one egg broken.

Here the lowest fist is flattened out. In the same way each of the

four eggs (i.e. fists) is broken till the top is reached, when the

four hands are moved up and down on the left knee of one of the

players as the chant recommences--

P'ram p'ram pisang ... the plantain,

Masak sa-biji di-gonggong bari-bari The fruit-bat seizes a ripe

one,

Bawa lari, And takes it away

Terbang-lah dia! As off he flies!

Here both players raise their hands above their heads; then one player

commences to rock to and fro (with arms now folded), the other holding

him (or her) by the arms and crying--

Goyang-goyang Pah Ponggor Swing, swing, Father Ponggor;

Pah Ponggor mati akar! Father Ponggor, the climbing rattan is

dead!

Si `Ali ka padang Si `Ali's gone to the plain,

[Di-]tudongkan daun Sheltered by the leaves,

Sa-hari ta' makan, With nothing to eat for a day,

Ta' makan sa-tahun. Nothing to eat for a year.

Here they hook their little fingers together, and rock their bodies

to and fro, singing--