PART 3

General Social Life

The pueblo

Bontoc and Samoki pueblos, in all essentials typical of pueblos in

the Bontoc area, lie in the mountains in a roughly circular pocket

called Pa-pas'-kan. A perfect circle about a mile in diameter might

be described within the pocket. It is bisected fairly accurately by

the Chico River, coursing from the southwest to the northeast. Its

altitude ranges from about 2,750 feet at the river to 2,900 at

the upper edge of Bontoc pueblo, which is close to the base of the

mountain ridge at the west, while Samoki is backed up against the

opposite ridge to the southeast. The river flows between the pueblos,

though considerably closer to Samoki than to Bontoc.

The horizon circumscribing this pocket is cut at the northeast,

where the river makes its exit, and lifting above this gap are two

ranges of mountains beyond. At the south-southeast there is another

cut, through which a small affluent pours into the main stream. At

the southwest the river enters the pocket, although no cut shows in

the horizon, as the stream bends abruptly and the farther range of

mountains folds close upon the near one.

Bontoc lies compactly built on a sloping piece of ground, roughly

about half a mile square. Through the pueblo are two water-cut ravines,

down which pour the waters of the mountain ridge in the rainy season,

and in which, during much of the remainder of the year, sufficient

water trickles to supply several near-by dwellings.

Adjoining the pueblo on the north and west are two small groves where

a religious ceremonial is observed each month. Granaries for rice are

scattered all about the outer fringe of dwellings, and in places they

follow the ravines in among the buildings of the pueblo. The old,

broad Spanish trail runs close to the pueblo on the south and east,

as it passes in and out of the pocket through the gaps cut by the

river. About the pueblo at the east and northeast are some fifteen

houses built in Spanish time, most of them now occupied by Ilokano

men with Igorot or half-breed wives. There also were the Spanish

Government buildings, reduced to a church, a convent, and another

building used now as headquarters for the Government Constabulary.

The pueblo, now 2,000 or 2,500 people, was probably at one time

larger. There is a tradition common in both Bontoc and Samoki that

in former years the ancestors of this latter pueblo lived northeast

of Bontoc toward the northern corner of the pocket. They say they

moved to the opposite side of the river because there they would

have more room. There they have grown to 1,200 or 1,500 souls. Still

later, but yet before the Spanish came, a large section of people

from northeastern Bontoc moved bodily to Lias, about two days to the

east. They tell that a Bontoc woman named Fank'-a was the wife of a

Lias man, and when a drought and famine visited Bontoc the section

of the pueblo from which she came moved as a whole to Lias, then a

small collection of people. Still later, La'-nao, a detached section

of Bontoc on the lowland near the river, was suddenly wiped out by

a disease.

The Igorot is given to naming even small areas of the earth within

his well-known habitat, and there are four areas in Bontoc pueblo

having distinct names. These names in no way refer to political or

social divisions -- they are not the "barrio" of the coast pueblos of

the Islands, neither are they in any way like a "ward" in an American

city, nor are they "additions" to an original part of the pueblo --

they are names of geographic areas over which the pueblo was built

or has spread. From south to north these areas are A-fu', Mag-e'-o,

Dao'-wi, and Um-feg'.

Ato

Bontoc is composed of seventeen political divisions, called

"a'-to." The geographic area of A-fu' contains four a'-to, namely,

Fa-tay'-yan, Po-lup-o', Am-ka'-wa, and Bu-yay'-yeng; Mag-e'-o contains

three, namely, Fi'-lig, Mag-e'-o, and Cha-kong'; Dao'-wi has six,

namely, Lo-wing'-an, Pud-pud-chog', Si-pa'-at, Si-gi-chan', So-mo-wan',

and Long-foy'; Um-feg' has four, Po-ki'-san, Lu-wa'-kan, Ung-kan',

and Cho'-ko. Each a'-to is a separate political division. It has

its public buildings; has a separate governing council which makes

peace, challenges to war, and accepts or rejects war challenges,

and it formally releases and adopts men who change residence from

one a'-to to another.

Border a'-to Fa-tay'-yan seems to be developing an offspring -- a

new a'-to; a part of it, the southwestern border part, is now known

as "Tang-e-ao'." It is disclaimed as a separate a'-to, yet it has a

distinctive name, and possesses some of the marks of an independent

a'-to. In due time it will doubtless become such.

In Sagada, Agawa, Takong, and near-by pueblos the a'-to is said to

be known as dap'-ay; and in Balili and Alap both names are known.

The pueblo must be studied entirely through the a'-to. It is only

an aggregate of which the various a'-to are the units, and all the

pueblo life there is is due to the similarity of interests of the

several a'-to.

Bontoc does not know when her pueblo was built -- she was always

where she now is -- but they say that some of the a'-to are newer than

others. In fact, they divide them into the old and new. The newer ones

are Bu-yay'-yeng, Am-ka'-wa, Po-lup-o', Cha-kong', and Po-ki'-san;

all these are border a'-to of the pueblo.

The generations of descendants of men who did distinct things are

kept carefully in memory; and from the list of descendants of the

builders of some of the newer a'-to it seems probable that Cha-kong'

was the last one built. One of the builders was Sal-lu-yud'; he had

a son named Tam-bul', and Tam-bul' was the father of a man in Bontoc

now some twenty-five years old. It is probable that Cha-kong' was

built about 1830 -- in the neighborhood of seventy-five years ago. The

plat of the pueblo seems to strengthen the impression that Cha-kong'

is the newest a'-to, since it appears to have been built in territory

previously used for rice granaries; it is all but surrounded by such

ground now.

One of the builders of Bu-yay'-yeng, an a'-to adjoining Cha-kong',

and also one of the newer ones, was Ba-la-ge'. Ba-la-ge' was the

great-great-great-grandfather of Mud-do', who is a middle-aged man

now in Bontoc. The generations of fathers descending from Ba-la-ge' to

Mud-do' are the following: Bang-eg', Cag-i'-yu, Bit-e', and Ag-kus'. It

seems from this evidence that the a'-to Bu-yay'-yeng was built about

one hundred and fifty years ago. These facts suggest a much greater

age for the older a'-to of the pueblo.

An a'-to has three classes of buildings occupied by the people --

the fawi and pabafunan, public structures for boys and men, and the

olag for girls and young women before their permanent marriage; and

the dwellings occupied by families and by widows, which are called

afong. Each of these three classes of buildings plays a distinct role

in the life of the people.

Pabafunan and fawi

The pa-ba-fu'-nan is the home of the various a'-to ceremonials. It

is sacred to the men of the a'-to, and on no occasion do the women

or girls enter it.

All boys from 3 or 4 years of age and all men who have no wives sleep

nightly in the pa-ba-fu'-nan or in the fa'-wi.

The pa-ba-fu'-nan building consists of a low, squat, stone-sided

structure partly covered with a grass roof laid on a crude frame of

poles; the stone walls extend beyond the roof at one end and form an

open court. The roofed part is about 8 by 10 feet, and usually is

not over 5 feet high in any part, inside measure; the size of the

court is approximately the same as that of the roofed section. In

some pa-ba-fu'-nan a part of the court is roofed over for shelter in

case of rain, but is not walled in. Under this roof skulls of dogs

and hogs are generally found tucked away. Carabao horns and chicken

feathers are also commonly seen in such places.

In many cases the open court is shaded by a tree. Posts are found

reared above most of the courts. Some are old and blackened; others

are all but gone -- a short stump being all that projects above the

earth. The tops of some posts are rudely carved to represent a human

head; on the tops of others, as in a'-to Lowingan and Sipaat, there

are stones which strikingly resemble human skulls. It is to the tops

of these posts that the enemy's head is attached when a victorious

warrior returns to his a'-to. Both the roofed and court sections

are paved with stone, and large stones are also arranged around the

sides of the court, some more or less elevated as seats; they are

worn smooth and shiny by generations of use. In the center of the

court is the smoldering remains of a fire. The only opening into the

covered part is a small doorway connecting it with the court. This

door is barely large enough to permit a man to squeeze in sidewise;

it is often not over 2 1/2 feet high and 10 inches wide. The occupants

of the pa-ba-fu'-nan usually sleep curled up naked on the smooth,

flat stones. A few people have runo slat mats, some of which roll up,

while others are inflexible, and they lie on these over the stone

pavement. Fires are built in all sleeping rooms when it is cold,

and the rooms all close tightly with a door.

In the court of the building the men lounge when not at work in

the fields; they sleep, or smoke and chat, tend babies, or make

utensils and weapons. The pa-ba-fu'-nan is the man's club by day,

and the unmarried man's dormitory by night, and, as such, it is the

social center for all men of the a'-to, and it harbors at night all

men visiting from other pueblos.

Each a'-to, except Chakong, has a pa-ba-fu'-nan. When the men of

Chakong were building theirs they met the pueblo of Sadanga in combat,

and one of the builders lost his head to Sadanga. Then the old men of

Chakong counciled together; they came to the conclusion that it was

bad for the a'-to to have a pa-ba-fu'-nan, and none has ever been

built. This absence of the pa-ba-fu'-nan in some way detracts from

the importance of the a'-to in the minds of the people. For instance,

in the early stages of this study I was told several times that there

are sixteen (and not seventeen) a'-to in Bontoc. The first list of

a'-to written did not include Chakong; it was discovered only when

the pueblo was platted, and at that time my informants sought to pass

it over by saying "It is Chakong, but it has no pa-ba-fu'-nan." The

explanation of the obscurity of Chakong in the minds of the Igorot

seems to be that the a'-to ceremonial is more important than the a'-to

council -- that the emotional and not the mental is held uppermost,

that the people of Bontoc flow together through feeling better than

they drive together through cold force or control.

The a'-to ceremonials of Chakong are held in the pa-ba-fu'-nan of

neighboring a'-to, as in Sigichan, Pudpudchog, or Filig, and this seems

partially to destroy the ESPRIT DE CORPS of the unfortunate a'-to.

Each a'-to has a fa'-wi building -- a structure greatly resembling to

the pa-ba-fu'-nan, and impossible to be distinguished from it by one

looking at the structure from the outside. The fa'-wi and pa-ba-fu'-nan

are shown in Pls. XXX, XXXI, and XXXII. Pl. XXIX shows a section of

Sipaat a'-to with its fa'-wi and pa-ba-fu'-nan. The fa'-wi is the

a'-to council house; as such it is more frequented by the old men

than by the younger. The fa'-wi also shelters the skulls of human

heads taken by the a'-to. Outside the pueblo, along certain trails,

there are simple structures also called "fa'-wi," shelters where

parties halt for feasts, etc., while on various ceremonial journeys.

The fa'-wi and pa-ba-fu'-nan of each a'-to are near together, and in

five they are under the same roof, though there is no doorway for

intercommunication. What was said of the pa-ba-fu'-nan as a social

center is equally true of the fa'-wi; each is the lounging place of

men and boys, and the dormitory of unmarried males.

In Samoki each of the eight a'-to has only one public building,

and that is known simply as "a'-to."

One is further convinced of an extensive early movement of the

primitive Malayan from its pristine nest by the presence of

institutions similar to the pa-ba-fu'-nan and fa'-wi over a vast

territory of the Asiatic mainland as well as the Asiatic Islands

and Oceania. That these widespread institutions sprang from the

same source will be seen clearly in the quotations appearing in the

footnote below.[11] The visible exponent of the institutions is a

building forbidden to women, the functions of which are several; it

is a dormitory for men -- generally unmarried men -- a council house,

a guardhouse, a guest house for men, a center for ceremonials of the

group, and a resting place for the trophies of the chase and war --

a "head house."

Olag

The o'-lag is the dormitory of the girls in an a'-to from the age of

about 2 years until they marry. It is a small stone and mud-walled

structure, roofed with grass, in which a grown person can seldom

stand erect. It has but a single opening -- a door some 30 inches

high and 10 inches wide. Occupying nearly all the floor space are

boards about 4 feet long and from 8 to 14 inches wide; each board is

a girl's bed. They are placed close together, side by side, laid on

a frame about a foot above the earth. One end, where the head rests,

is slightly higher that the other, while in most o'-lag a pole for a

foot rest runs along the foot of the beds a few inches from them. The

building as shown in Pl. XXXIII is typical of the nineteen found in

Bontoc pueblo -- though it does not show, what is almost invariably

true, that it is built over one or more pigsties. This condition is

illustrated in Pl. XXIX, where a widow's house is shown literally

resting above the stone walls of several sties. Unlike the fawi

and pabafunan, the o'-lag has no adjoining court, and no shady

surroundings. It is built to house the occupants only at night.

The o'-lag is not so distinctly an ato institution as the pabafunan and

fawi. Ato Ungkan never had an o'-lag. The demand is not so urgent as

that of some ato, since there are only thirteen families in Ungkan. The

girls occupy o'-lag of neighboring ato.

The o'-lag of Luwakan, of Lowingan, and of Sipaat (the last situated

in Lowingan) are broken down and unused at present. There are no

marriageable girls in any of these three ato now, and the small girls

occupy near-by o'-lag. These three o'-lag will be rebuilt when the

girls are large enough to cook food for the men who build. The o'-lag

of Amkawa is in Buyayyeng near the o'-lag of the latter; it is there

by choice of the occupants.

Mageo, with her twenty families, also has two o'-lag, but both are

situated in Pudpudchog.

The o'-lag is the only Igorot building which has received a specific

name, all others bear simply the class name.[12]

In Sagada and some nearby pueblos, as Takong and Agawa, the o'-lag

is said to he called If-gan'.

Mr. S. H. Damant is quoted from the Calcutta Review (vol. 61, p. 93)

as saying that among the Nagas, frontier tribes of northeast India --

Only very young children live entirely with their parents; ... the

women have also a house of their own called the "dekhi chang," where

the unmarried girls are supposed to live.

Again Mr. Damant wrote:

I saw Dekhi chang here for the first time. All the unmarried girls

sleep there at night, but it is deserted in the day. It is not much

different from any ordinary house.[13]

Separate sleeping houses for girls similar to the o'-lag, I judge,

are also found occasionally in Assam.[14]

Whereas, so far as known, the o'-lag occurs with the Igorot only among

the Bontoc culture group, yet the above quotations and references point

to a similar institution among distant people -- among some of the same

people who have an institution very similar to the pabafunan and fawi.

Afong

A'-fong is the general name for Bontoc dwellings, of which there are

two kinds. The first is the fay'-u (Pls. XXXIV and XXXVI), the large,

open, board dwelling, some 12 by 15 feet square, with side walls only

3 1/2 feet high, and having a tall, top-heavy grass roof. It is the

home of the prosperous. The other is the kat-yu'-fong (Pl. XXXVII),

the smaller, closed, frequently mud-walled dwelling of poor families,

and commonly of the widows.

The family dwelling primarily serves two purposes -- it is the place

where the man, his wife, and small child sleep, and where the entire

family takes its food.

The fay'-u is built at considerable expense. Three or four men are

required for a period of about two months to get out the pine boards

and timbers in the forest. Each piece of timber for any permanent

building is completed at the time it is cut from the tree, and is left

to season in the mountains; sometimes it remains several years. (See

Pl. XXXV.) When all is ready to construct the dwelling the owner

announces his intention. Some 200 men of the pueblo gather to erect

the building, and two or three dozen women come to prepare and cook

the necessary food, for, whereas no wage is paid the laborers, all

are feasted at the cost of much rice and several hogs and a carabao

or two. The toiling and feasting continue about ten days.

The following description of a fay'-u is of an ordinary dwelling

in Bontoc pueblo: The fay'-u are all constructed on the same plan,

though a few are larger than the one here described, and some few are

smaller. The front and back walls of the house are 3 feet 6 inches

high and 12 feet 6 inches long. The two side walls are the same height

as the ends, but are 15 feet 6 inches long. The rear wall is built of

stones carefully chinked with mud. The side walls consist each of two

boards extending the full length of the structure. The front wall is

cut near the middle from top to bottom with a doorway 1 foot 4 inches

wide; otherwise the front wall is like the two side walls, except

that it has a roughly triangular timber grooved along the lower side

and fitted over the top board as a cap. The doorposts are two timbers

sunk in the ground; their tops fit into the two "caps," and each has

a groove from top to bottom into which the ends of the boards of the

front wall are inserted. A few dwellings have a door consisting of a

single board set on end and swinging on a projection sunk in a hole in

a doorsill buried in the earth; the upper part of the door swings on a

string secured to the doorpost and passing through a hole in the door.

At each of the four corners of the building, immediately inside

the walls, is a post set in the ground and standing 6 feet 9 inches

high. The boards of the walls are tied to these corner posts, and the

greater part of the weight of the roof rests on their tops. Four other

posts, also planted in the ground and about as high as the corner

posts, stand about 4 feet inside the walls of the house equidistant

from the corner post and marking the corners of a rectangle about 5 1/2

feet square. They directly support the second story of the building.

There is no floor except the earth in the first story of the Bontoc

dwelling, and from the door at the front of the building to the two

rear posts of the four central ones there is an unobstructed passage

or aisle called "cha-la'-nan." At one's left, as he enters the door,

is a small room called "chap-an'" 5 1/2 feet square separated from

the aisle by a row of low stones partially sunk in the earth. The

earth in this room is excavated so that the floor is about 1 foot

lower than that of the remainder of the building, and in its center

the peculiar double wooden rice mortar is imbedded in the earth. It

is in the chap-an' that the family rice and millet is threshed. At the

left of the aisle and immediately beyond the chap-an', separated from

it by a board partition the same height as the outside walls of the

house, is the cooking room, called "cha-le-ka-nan' si mo-o'-to." It is

approximately the same size as the threshing room. There are neither

boards nor stones to cut this cooking room off from the open aisle of

the house, but its width is determined by a low pile of stones built

along its farther side from the outer house wall toward the aisle and

ending at the rear left post of the four central ones. In the face of

this stone wall are three concavities -- fireplaces over which cooking

pots are placed. Arranged along the outer wall, and about 2 feet high,

is a board shelf on which the water jars are kept.

At the right of the aisle, as one enters the building, is a broad

shelf about 12 feet long; in width it extends from the side wall

to the two right central posts. On this shelf, called "chuk'-so,"

are placed the various baskets and other utensils and implements of

everyday use. Beneath it are stored the small cages or coops in which

the chickens sleep at night. There are a few fay'-u in Bontoc in which

the threshing room and cooking room are on the right of the aisle

and the long bench is on the left, but they are very rare exceptions.

In the rear of the building is a board partition apparently extending

from one side wall to the other. The bench at the right of the aisle

ends against this partition, and on the left the stone fireplaces

are built against it. This rear section is covered over with boards

at the height of the outside wall, so that a low box is formed, 3 1/2

feet high and 4 1/4 feet wide. At the rear of the aisle a door 3 feet

high and 1 foot 4 inches wide swings into this rear apartment, which,

when the door is again closed, is as black as night. An examination of

the inside of this section shows it to be entirely walled with stones

except where the narrow door cuts it. By inside measure it is only

3 feet 6 inches wide and 6 feet 6 inches long. This is the sleeping

apartment, and is called ang-an'. As one crawls into this kennel he is

likely to place his hands among ashes and charred sticks which mark the

place for a fire on cold nights. The left end of the ang-an' contains

two boards or beds for the man and his wife. Each board is about 18

inches wide and 4 feet long; they are raised 2 or 3 inches from the

earth, and the head of the bed is slightly higher than the foot. A pole

is laid across the apartment at the lower end of the sleeping boards,

and on this the occupants rest their feet and toast them before the

small fire. At both ends of the ang-an', outside the store walls,

is a small hidden secret space called "kub-kub," in which the family

hides many of its choice possessions. During abundant camote[15]

gathering, however, I have seen the kub-kub filled with camotes. I

should probably not have discovered these spaces had there not been

so great a discrepancy between the inside measure of the sleeping

room and width of the building.

I know of no other primitive dwellings in the Philippines than

the ones in the Bontoc culture area which are built directly on

the ground. Most of them are raised on posts several feet from the

earth. Some few have side walls extending to the ground, but even

those have a floor raised 2, 3, or more feet from the ground and

which is reached by means of a short ladder.

The second story of the Bontoc dwelling is supported on the four

central posts. On all sides it projects beyond them, so that it

is about 7 feet square; it is about 5 feet high. A door enters the

second story directly from the aisle, and is reached by an 8-foot

ladder. This second story is constructed, floor and side walls, of

boards. The side walls cease at about the height of 2 feet where a

horizontal shelf is built on them extending outside of them to the

roof. It is about 2 feet wide and is usually stored with unthreshed

rice and millet or with jars of preserved meats. Just at the left on

the floor, as one enters the second story, is an earth-filled square

corner walled in by two poles. On this earth are three stones --

the fireplace, where each year a chicken is cooked in a household

ceremony at the close of rice harvests.

Rising above the second story is a third. In the smaller dwellings

this third story is only an attic of the second, but in the larger

buildings it is an independent story. To be sure, it is entered through

the floor, but a ladder is used, and its floor is of strong heavy

boards. It is at all times a storeroom, usually only for cereals. In

the smaller houses it amounts simply to a broad shelf about the height

of one's waist as he stands on the floor of the second story and his

head and upper body rise through the hole in the floor. In the larger

houses a person may climb into the third story and work there with

practically as much freedom as in the second.

The 5-foot ridgepole of the steep, heavy, grass roof is supported

by two posts rising from the basal timbers of the third story. The

roof falls away sharply from the ridgepole not only at the sides

but at the ends, so that, except at the ridge, the roof appears

square. Immediately beneath both ends of the ridgepole there is a small

opening in the grass through which the smoke of the cooking fires is

supposed to escape. However, I have scarcely ever seen smoke issue

from them, and, since the entire inner part of the building from the

floor of the second story to the ridgepole is thickly covered with

soot, it seems that little unconsumed carbon escapes through the

smoke holes. The lower part of the roof, for 3 1/2 feet, descends at

a less steep angle, thus forming practically an awning against sun

and rain. Its lower edge is about 4 feet from the ground and projects

some 4 feet beyond the side walls of the lower story.

The kat-yu'-fong, the dwelling of the poor, consists of a one-story

structure built on the ground with the earth for the floor. Some such

buildings have a partition or partial partition running across them,

beyond which are the sleeping boards, and there are shelves here and

there; but the kat-yu'-fong is a makeshift, and consequently is not

so fixed a type of dwelling as the fay'-u.

Piled close around the dwellings is a supply of firewood in the shape

of pine blocks 3 or 4 feet long, usually cut from large trees. These

blocks furnish favorite lounging places for the women. The people

live most of the time outside their dwellings, and it is there that

the social life of the married women is. Any time of day they may be

seen close to the a'-fong in the shade of the low, projecting roof

sitting spinning or paring camotes; often three or four neighbors

sit thus together and gossip. The men are seldom with them, being

about the ato buildings in the daytime when not working. A few small

children may be about the dwelling, as the little girls frequently

help in preparing food for cooking.

During the day the dwelling is much alone. When it is so left one

and sometimes two runo stalks are set up in the earth on each side

of the door leaning against the roof and projecting some 8 feet

in the air. This is the pud-i-pud', the "ethics lock" on an Igorot

dwelling. An Igorot who enters the a'-fong of a neighbor when the

pud-i-pud' is up is called a thief -- in the mind of all who see him

he is such.

The family

Bontoc families are monogamous, and monogamy is the rule throughout

the area, though now and then a man has two wives. The presidente of

Titipan has five wives, for each of whom he has a separate house, and

during my residence in Bontoc he was building a sixth house for a new

wife; but such a family is the exception -- I never heard of another.

Many marriage unions produce eight and ten children, though, since

the death rate is large, it is probable that families do not average

more than six individuals.

Childbirth

A woman is usually about her daily labors in the house, the mountains,

or the irrigated fields almost to the hour of childbirth. The child

is born without feasting or ceremony, and only two or three friends

witness the birth. The father of the child is there, if he is the

woman's husband; the girl's mother is also with her, but usually

there are no others, unless it be an old woman.

The expectant woman stands with her body bent strongly forward at

the waist and supported by the hands grasping some convenient house

timber about the height of the hips; or she may take a more animal-like

position, placing both hands and feet on the earth.

The labor, lasting three or four hours, is unassisted by medicines

or baths; but those in attendance -- the man as well as the woman --

hasten the birth by a gently downward drawing of the hands about the

woman's abdomen.

During a period of ten days after childbirth the mother frequently

bathes herself about the hips and abdomen with hot water, but has no

change of diet. For two or three days she keeps the house closely,

reclining much of the time.

The Igorot woman is a constant laborer from the age of puberty or

before, until extreme incapacity of old age stays the hands of toil;

but for two or three months following the advent of each babe the

mother does not work in the fields. She busies herself about the

house and with the new-found duties of a mother, while the husband

performs her labors in the fields.

The Igorot loves all his children, and says, when a boy is born,

"It is good," and if a girl is born he says it is equally "good" --

it is the fact of a child in the family that makes him happy. People in

the Igorot stage of culture have little occasion to prize one sex over

the other. The Igorot neither, even in marriage. One is practically

as capable as the other at earning a living, and both are needed in

the group.

Six or seven days after birth a chicken is killed and eaten by the

family in honor of the child, but there is no other ceremony --

there is not even a special name for the feast.

If a woman gives birth to a stillborn child it is at once washed,

wrapped in a bit of cloth, and buried in a camote sementera close to

the dwelling.

Twins

The Igorot do not understand twins, -- na-a-pik', as they say. Carabaos

have only one babe at a birth, so why should women have two babes? they

ask. They believe that one of the twins, which unfortunate one they

call "a-tin-fu-yang'," is an anito child; it is the offspring of an

anito.[16] The anito father is said to have been with the mother of

the twins in her unconscious slumber, and she is in no way criticised

or reproached.

The most quiet babe, or, if they are equally quiet, the larger one,

is said to be "a-tin-fu-yang'," and is at once placed in an olla[17]

and buried alive in a sementera near the dwelling.

On the 13th of April, 1903, the wife of A-li-koy', of Samoki, gave

birth to twin babies. Contrary to the advice and solicitations of the

old men and the universal custom of the people, A-li-koy' saved both

children, because, as he pointed out, an Ilokano of Bontoc had twin

children, now 7 years old, and they are all right. Thus the breaking

down of this peculiar form of infanticide may have begun.

Abortion

Both married and unmarried women practice abortion when for any

reason the prospective child is not desired. It is usual, however,

for the mother of a pregnant girl to object to her aborting, saying

that soon she would become "po'-ta" -- the common mate of several men,

rather than the faithful wife of one.

Abortion is accomplished without the use of drugs and is successful

only during the first eight or ten weeks of pregnancy. The abdomen

is bathed for several days in hot water, and the body is pressed

and stroked downward with the hands. The foetus is buried by the

woman. Only the woman herself or her mother or other near female friend

is present at the abortion, though no effort is made at secrecy and

its practice is no disgrace.

Child

Care of child in parents' dwelling

All male babes are called "kil-lang'" and all girl babes "gna-an'." All

live practically the same life day after day. Their sole nourishment is

their mother's milk, varied now and then by that of some other woman,

if the mother is obliged to leave the babe for a half day or so. When

the babe's first teeth appear it has a slight change of diet; its

attendant now and then feeds it cooked rice, thoroughly masticated

and mixed with saliva. This food is passed to the child's mouth

directly from that of the attendant by contact of lips -- quite as

the domestic canary feeds its young. The babes are always unclothed,

and for several months are washed daily in cold water, usually both

morning and night. It is a common sight at the river to see the mother,

who has come down with her babe on her back for an olla of water,

bathe the babe, who never seems at all frightened in the process,

but to enjoy it -- this, too, at times when the water would seem

to be uncomfortably cold. One often sees the father or grandmother

washing the older babes at the river.

But in spite of these baths the Igorot babe, at least after it has

reached the age of six or eight months, when seen in the pueblo is

almost without exception very dirty; a child of a year or a year and

a half is usually repulsively so. Its head has received no attention

since birth, and is scaly and dirty if not actually full of sores. Its

baths are now relatively infrequent, and its need of them as it plays

on the dirt floor of the dwelling or pabafunan even more urgent than

when it spent most of its time in the carrying blanket.

Babes have no cradles or stationary places for rest or sleep. A babe,

slumbering or awake, is never laid down alone because of the fear that

an anito will injure it. At night the babe sleeps between its parents,

on its mother's arm. It spends its days almost without exception

sitting in a blanket which is tied over the shoulder of one of its

parents, its brother, or its sister. There it hangs, awake or asleep,

sitting or sprawling, often a pitiable little object with the sun

in its eyes and the flies hovering over its dirty face. Frequently a

child of only 5 or 6 years old may be seen with a babe on its back,

and older children are constant baby tenders. Babes may be found in

the fawi and pabafunan where the men are lounging (Pl. XXXII), and

the old men and women also care for their grandchildren. Grown people

quite as commonly carry the babe astride one hip if they have an empty

hand which they can put around it, and often a mother along the trail

carries it at her breast where it seemingly nurses as contentedly as

when in the shade of the dwelling.

Children are generally weaned long before they are 2 years old,

but twice I have seen a young pillager of 5 years, while patting

and stroking his mother's hips and body as she transplanted rice,

yield to his early baby instinct and suckle from her pendant breasts.

After the child is about 2 years of age it is not customary for it to

sleep longer at the home of the parents; the girl goes nightly to the

olag, and the boy to the pabafunan or the fawi. However, this is not

a hard-and-fast rule, and the age at which the child goes to the olag

or fawi depends much on circumstances. The length of time it sleeps

with the parents doubtless depends upon the advent or nonadvent of

another child. If a little girl has a widowed grandmother or aunt she

may sleep for a few years with her. During the warmer months one or

two children may sleep on the stationary broad bench, the chukso, in

the open part of the parents' house. It is safe to say that after the

ages of 6 or 7 all children are found nightly in the olag, pabafunan,

or fawi. I have seen a group of little girls from 4 to 10 years old,

immediately after supper and while some families were still eating,

sitting around a small blaze of fire just outside the door of their

olag. The Igorot child as a rule knows its parents' home only as a

place to eat. There is almost an entire absence of anything which

may be called home life.

Naming

The Igorot has no definite system of naming. Parents may frequently

change the name of a child, and an individual may change his during

maturity. There are several reasons why names are changed, but there

is no system, nor is it ever necessary to change them.

A child usually receives its first personal name between the years

of 2 and 5. This first name is always that of some dead ancestor,

usually only two or three generations past. The reason for this is

the belief that the anito of the ancestor cares for and protects its

descendants when they are abroad. If the name a child bears is that

of a dead ancestor it will receive the protection of the anito of the

ancestor; if the child does not prosper or has accidents or ill health,

the parents will seek a more careful or more benevolent protector in

the anito of some other ancestor whose name is given the child.

To illustrate this changing of names: A boy in Tukukan, two hours from

Bontoc, was first named Sa-pang' when less than a year old. At the

end of a year the paternal grandfather, An-ti'-ko, died in Tukukan,

and the babe was named An-ti'-ko. In a few years the boy's father died,

and the mother married a man in Bontoc, the home of her childhood. She

moved to Bontoc with her boy, and then changed his name to Fa-li-kao',

her dead father's name. The reason for this last change was because the

anito of An-ti'-ko, always in or about Tukukan, could not care for the

child in Bontoc, whereas the anito of Fa-li-kao' in Bontoc could do so.

The selection of the names of ancestors is shown by the following

generations:

1. Mang-i-lot'

2. Cho-kas'

3. Kom-ling'

4. Mang-i-lot'

5 A. Kom-ling'

5 B. Ta-kay'-yeng

5 C. Teng-ab'

5 D. Ka-weng'

Mang-i-lot' (4) is the baby name of an old man now about 60 years old;

it was the name of his great-grandfather (1). Numbers 5 A, 5 B, 5 C,

and 5 D are the sons of Mang-i-lot' (4), all of whom died before

receiving a second name. The child Kom-ling' (5 a) was given the

name of his paternal grandfather (3). Ta-kay'-yeng (5 B) bears the

name of his maternal great-grandfather. Teng-ab' (5 C) and Ka-weng'

(5 D) both bear the names of uncles, brothers of the boy's mother. The

present name of Mang-i-lot' (4) is O-lu-wan'; this is the name of a

man at Barlig whose head was the first one taken by Mang-i-lot'. A

man may change his name each time he takes a head, though it is not

customary to do so more than once or twice.

Girls as well as boys may receive during childhood two or three names,

that they may receive the protection of an anito. In Igorot names there

is no vestige of a kinship group tracing relation through either the

paternal or maternal line.

The people are generally reticent about telling their names; and when

they do tell, the name given is usually the one borne in childhood;

an old man will generally answer " am-a'-ma," meaning simply "old man."

Circumcision

Most boys are circumcised at from 4 to 7 years of age. The act of

circumcision, called "sig-i-at'," occurs privately without feasting

or rite. The only formality is the payment of a few leaves of tobacco

to the man who performs the operation. There are one or two old men

in each ato who understand circumcision, but there is no cult for

its performance or perpetuation.

The foreskin is cut lengthwise on the upper side for half an

inch. Either a sharp, blade-like piece of bamboo is inserted in

the foreskin which is cut from the inside, or the back point of a

battle-ax is stuck firmly in the earth, and the foreskin is cut by

being drawn over the sharp point of the blade.

The Igorot say that if the foreskin is not cut it will grow long,

as does the unclipped camote vine. What the origin or purpose of

circumcision was is not now known by the people of Bontoc. The

practice is believed to have come with them from an earlier home;

it is widespread in the Archipelago.

Amusements

The life of little girls is strangely devoid of games and

playthings. They have no dolls and, I have never seen them play with

the puppies which are scattered throughout the pueblo much of the

year -- both common playthings for the girls of primitive people. It

is not improbable that the instinct which compels most girls, no

matter what their grade of culture, to play the mother is given full

expression in the necessary care of babes -- a care in which the

girls, often themselves almost babes, have a much larger part than

their brothers. Girls also go to the fields with their parents much

more than do the boys.

Girls and boys never play together in the same group. Time and

again one comes suddenly on a romping group of chattering, naked

little boys or girls. They usually run noiselessly into the nearest

foliage or behind the nearest building, and there stand unmoving,

as a pursued chicken pokes its head into the grass and seems to think

itself hidden. They need not be afraid of one, seeing him every day,

yet the instinct to flee is strong in them -- they do exactly what

their mothers do when suddenly met in the trail -- they run away,

or start to.

Several times I have found little girls building tiny sementeras with

pebbles, and it is probable they play at planting and harvesting the

crops common to their pueblo. They have one game called "I catch

your ankle," which is the best expression of unfettered childplay

and mirth I have ever seen.

After the sun had dropped behind the mountain close to the pueblo,

from six to a dozen girls ranging from 5 to 10 or 11 years of age came

almost nightly to the smooth grass plat in front of our house to play

"sis-sis'-ki" (I catch your ankle). They laid aside their blankets

and lined up nude in two opposing lines twelve or fifteen feet

apart. All then called: "Sis-sis'-ki ad wa'-ni wa'-ni!" (which is,

"I catch your ankle, now! now!"). Immediately the two lines crouched

on their haunches, and, in half-sitting posture, with feet side by

side, each girl bounced toward her opponent endeavoring to catch

her ankle. After the two attacking parties met they intermingled,

running and tumbling, chasing and chased, and the successful girl

rapidly dragged her victim by the ankle along the grass until caught

and thrown by a relief party or driven away by the approach of superior

numbers. They lined up anew every five or ten minutes.

During the entire game, lasting a full half hour or until night settled

on them or a mother came to take home one of the little, romping, wild

things -- just as the American child is called from her games to an

early bed -- peal after peal of the heartiest, sweetest laughter rang

a constant chorus. The boys have at least two systematic games. One is

fug-fug-to', in imitation of a ceremonial of the men after each annual

rice harvest. The game is a combat with rocks, and is played sometimes

by thirty or forty boys, sometimes by a much smaller number. The game

is a contest -- usually between Bontoc and Samoki -- with the broad,

gravelly river bed as the battle ground. There they charge and retreat

as one side gains or loses ground; the rocks fly fast and straight,

and are sometimes warded off by small basket-work shields shaped like

the wooden ones of war. They sometimes play for an hour and a half

at a time, and I have not yet seen them play when one side was not

routed and driven home on the run amid the shouts of the victors.

The other game is kag-kag-tin'. It is also a game of combat and of

opposing sides, but it is not so dangerous as the other and there are

no bruises resulting. Some half-dozen or a dozen boys play kag-kag-tin'

charging and retreating, fighting with the bare feet. The naked foot

necessitates a different kick than the one shod with a rigid leather

shoe; the stroke from an unshod foot is more like a blow from the fist

shot out from the shoulder. The foot lands flat and at the side of

or behind the kicker, and the blow is aimed at the trunk or head --

it usually lands higher than the hips. This game in a combat between

individuals of the opposing sides, though two often attack a single

opponent until he is rescued by a companion. The game is over when

the retreating side no longer advances to the combat.

The boys are constantly throwing reed spears, and they are fairly

expert spearmen several years before they have a steel-bladed spear

of their own. Frequently they roll the spherical grape fruit and

throw their reeds at the fruit as it passes.

Here, there, and everywhere, singly or in groups, boys perform the

Igorot dance step. A tin can in a boy's hands is irresistibly beaten in

rhythmic time, and the dance as surely follows the peculiar rhythmic

beating as the beating follows the possession of the can. As the

boys come stringing home at night from watching the palay fields,

they come dancing, rhythmically beating a can, or two sticks, or

their dinner basket, or beating time in the air -- as though they

held a gangsa[18]. The dance is in them, and they amuse themselves

with it constantly.

Both boys and girls are much in the river, where they swim and dive

with great frolic.

During the months of January and February, 1903, when there was much

wind, the boys were daily flying kites, but it is a pastime borrowed

of the Ilokano in the pueblo. Now and then a little fellow may be

seen with a small, very rude bow and arrow, which also is borrowed

from the Ilokano since the arrival of the Spaniard.

Puberty

Puberty is reached relatively late, usually between the fourteenth

and sixteenth years. No notice whatever is taken of it by the social

group. There is neither feast nor rite to mark the event either for

the individual or the group.

This nonobservance of the fact of puberty would be very remarkable,

since its observance is so widespread among primitive people,

were it not for the fact that the Igorot has developed the olag --

an institution calculated to emphasize the fact and significance

of puberty.

Life in olag

Though the o'-lag is primarily the sleeping place of all unmarried

girls, in the mind of the people it is, with startling consistency,

the mating place of the young people of marriageable age.

A common sight on a rest day in the pueblo is that of a young man

and woman, each with an arm around the other, loitering about under

the same blanket, talking and laughing, one often almost supporting

the other. There seems at all times to be the greatest freedom

and friendliness among the young people. I have seen both a young

man carrying a young woman lying horizontally along his shoulders,

and a young woman carrying a young man astride her back. However,

practically all courtship is carried on in the o'-lag.

The courtship of the Igorot is closely defined when it is said that

marriage never takes place prior to sexual intimacy, and rarely

prior to pregnancy. There is one exception. This is when a rich and

influential man marries a girl against her desires, but through the

urgings of her parents.

It is customary for a young man to be sexually intimate with one, two,

three, and even more girls at the same time. Two or more of them may

be residents of one o'-lag, and it is common for two or three men to

visit the same o'-lag at one time.

A girl is almost invariably faithful to her temporary lover, and this

fact is the more surprising in the face of the young man's freedom

and the fact that the o'-lag is nightly filled with little girls

whose moral training is had there.

Young men are boldly and pointedly invited to the o'-lag. A common form

of invitation is for the girl to steal a man's pipe, his pocket hat,

or even the breechcloth he is wearing. They say one seldom recovers

his property without going to the, o'-lag for it.

When a girl recognizes her pregnancy she at once joyfully tells her

condition to the father of the child, as all women desire children and

there are few permanent marriages unblessed by them. The young man,

if he does not wish to marry the girl, may keep her in ignorance of

his intentions for two or three months. If at last he tells her he

will not marry her she receives the news with many tears, it is said,

but is spared the gossip and reproach of others, and she will later

become the wife of some other man, since her first child has proved

her power to bear children.

When the mother notices her condition she asks who the father of the

child is, and on being told that the man will not marry her the mother

often tries to exert a rather tardy influence for better morals. She

says, "That is bad. Why have you done this?" (when the chances are

that the unfortunate, girl was born into a family of but one head);

"it will be well for him to give the child a sementera to work." About

the same time the young man informs his mother of his relations with

the girl, and of her condition, and again the maker of a people's

morals seems to attempt to mold the already hardened clay. She says,

"My son, that is bad. Why have you done it? Why do you not marry

her?" And the son answers simply and truthfully, "I have another

girl." Without attempt at remonstrance the father gives a rice

sementera to the child when it is 6 or 7 years old, for that is the

price fixed by the group conscience for deserting a girl with a child.

It is not usual for a married man to go to the o'-lag, though a

young man may go if one of his late mates is still alone. He is

usually welcomed by the girl, for there may yet be possibilities

of her becoming his permanent wife. A man whose wife is pregnant,

however, seldom visits the o'-lag, because he fears that, if he does,

his wife's child will be prematurely born and die.

The o'-lag is built where the girls desire it and is said to be

commonly located in places accessible to the men; this appears true

to one going over the pueblo with this statement in mind.

The life in the o'-lag does not seem to weaken the boys or girls

or cause them to degenerate, neither does it appear to make them

vicious. Whereas there is practically no sense of modesty among the

people, I have never seen anything lewd. Though there is no such

thing as virtue, in the modern sense of the word, among the young

people after puberty, children before puberty are said to be virtuous,

and the married woman is said always to be true to her husband.

According to a recent translator of Blumentritt[19] that author is

made to say (evidently speaking of the o'-lag):

Amongst most of the tribes [Igorot] the chastity of maidens is

carefully guarded, and in some all the young girls are kept together

till marriage in a large house where, guarded by old women, they

are taught the industries of their sex, such as weaving, pleating,

making cloth from the bark of trees, etc.

There is no such institution in Bontoc Igorot society. The purpose of

the o'-lag is as far from enforcing chastity as it well can be. The

old women never frequent the o'-lag, and the lesson the girls learn

there is the necessity for maternity, not the "industries of their

sex" -- which children of very primitive people acquire quite as a

young fowl learns to scratch and get its food.

Marriage

The ethics of the group forbid certain unions in marriage. A man may

not marry his mother, his stepmother, or a sister of either. He may

not marry his daughter, stepdaughter, or adopted daughter. He may

not marry his sister, or his brother's widow, or a first cousin by

blood or adoption. Sexual intercourse between persons in the above

relations is considered incest, and does not often occur. The line of

kin does not appear to be traced as far as second cousin, and between

such there are no restrictions.

Rich people often pledge their small children in marriage, though,

as elsewhere in the world, love, instead of the plans of parents, is

generally the foundation of the family. In February, 1903, the rich

people of Bontoc were quite stirred up over the sequel to a marriage

plan projected some fifteen years before. Two families then pledged

their children. The boy grew to be a man of large stature, while the

girl was much smaller. The man wished to marry another young woman, who

fought the first girl when visited by her to talk over the matter. Then

the blind mother of the pledged girl went to the dwelling, accompanied

by her brother, one of the richest men in the pueblo, whereupon the

father and mother of the successful girl knocked them down and beat

them. To all appearances the young lovers will marry in spite of the

early pledges of parents. They say such quarrels are common.

If a man wishes to marry a woman and she shares his desire, or

if on her becoming pregnant he desires to marry her, he speaks

with her parents and with his. If either of her parents objects,

no marriage occurs; but he does not usually falter, even though

his parents do object. They say the advent of a babe seldom fails

to win the good will of the young man's parents. In the case of the

girl's pregnancy, marriage is more assured, and her father builds or

gives her a house. The olag is no longer for her. In her case it has

served its ultimate purpose -- it has announced her puberty and proved

her powers of womanhood. In the case of a desire of marriage before

the girl is pregnant she usually sleeps in the olag, as in the past,

and the young man spends most of his nights with her. It is customary

for the couple to take their meals with the parents of the girl, in

which case the young man gives his labors to the family. The period

of his labors is usually less than a year, since it is customary for

him to give his affections to another girl within a year if the first

one does not become pregnant.

In other words their union is a true trial union. If the trial is

successful the girl's father builds her a dwelling, and the marriage

ceremony occurs immediately upon occupation of the dwelling. The

ceremony is in two parts. The first is called "in-pa-ke'," and at

that time a hog or carabao is killed, and the two young people start

housekeeping. The kap'-i-ya ceremony follows -- among the rich this

marriage ceremony occupies two days, but with the poor only one

day. The kap'-i-ya is performed by an old man of the ato in which

the couple is to live. He suggestively places a hen's egg, some rice,

and some tapui[20] in a dish before him while he addresses Lumawig,

the one god, as follows:

Thou, Lumawig! now these children desire to unite in marriage. They

wish to be blessed with many children. When they possess pigs, may

they grow large. When they cultivate their palay, may it have large

fruitheads. May their chickens also grow large. When they plant their

beans may they spread over the ground, May they dwell quietly together

in harmony. May the man's vitality quicken the seed of the woman.

The two-day marriage ceremony of the rich is very festive. The parents

kill a wild carabao, as well as chickens and pigs, and the entire

pueblo comes to feast and dance. It is customary for the pueblo to

have a rest day, called "fo-sog'," following the marriage of the

rich, so the entire period given to the marriage is three days. Each

party to the, marriage receives some property at the time from the

parents. There are no women in Bontoc pueblo who have not entered

into the trial union, though all have not succeeded in reaching the

ceremony of permanent marriage. However, notwithstanding all their

standards and trials, there are several happy permanent marriages

which have never been blessed with children. There are only two men

in Bontoc who have never been married and who never entered the trial

stage, and both are deaf and dumb.

Divorce

The people of Bontoc say they never knew a man and woman to separate

if a child was born to the pair and it lived and they had recognized

themselves married. But, as the marriage is generally prompted because

a child is to be born, so an unfruitful union is generally broken in

the hope that another will be more successful.

If either party desires to break the contract the other seldom

objects. If they agree to separate, the woman usually remains in their

dwelling and the man builds himself another. However, if either person

objects, it is the other who relinquishes the dwelling -- the man

because he can build another and the woman because she seldom seeks

separation unless she knows of a home in which she will be welcome.

Nothing in the nature of alimony, except the dwelling, is commonly

given by either party to a divorce. There are two exceptions --

in case a party deserts he forfeits to the other one or more rice

sementeras or other property of considerable value; and, again,

if the woman bore her husband a child which died he must give her a

sementera if he leaves her.

The widowed

If either party to a marriage dies the other does not remarry for

one year. There is no penalty enforced by the group for an earlier

marriage, but the custom is firmly fixed. Should the surviving person

marry within a year he would die, being killed by an anito whose

business it is to punish such sacrilege. The widowed frequently

remarry, as there are certain advantages in their married life. It

is quite impossible for a man or woman alone to perform the entire

round of Igorot labors. The hours of labor for the lone person must

usually be long and tiresome.

Most of the widowed live in the katyufong, the smaller dwelling

of the poor. The reason for this is that even if one has owned the

better class of dwelling, the fayu, it is generally given to a child

at marriage, the smaller house being sufficient and suitable for the

lone person, especially as the widowed very frequently take their

meals with some married child.

Orphans

Orphans without homes of their own become members of the household of

an uncle or aunt or other near relative. The property they received

from their parents is used by the family into whose home they go. Upon

marriage the children receive the property as it was left them,

the annual increase having gone to the family which cared for them.

If there are no relatives, orphans with property readily find a home;

if there are neither relatives nor property, some family receives the

children more as servants than as equals. When they are married they

are usually not given more than a dwelling.

The aged

There are few old and infirm persons who have not living

relatives. Among these relatives are usually descendants who have

been materially benefited by property accumulated or kept intact by

their aged kin. It is the universal custom for relatives to feed and

otherwise care for the aged. Not much can be done for the infirm,

and infirmity is the beginning of the end with all except the blind.

The chances are that the old who have no relatives have at least a

little property. Such persons are readily cared for by some family

which uses the property at the time and falls heir to it when the owner

dies. There are a very few blind persons who have neither relatives nor

property, and these are cared for by families which offer assistance,

and two of these old blind men beg rice from dwelling to dwelling.

Sickness, disease, and remedies

All disease, sickness, or ailment, however serious or slight, among

the Bontoc Igorot is caused by an a-ni'-to. If smallpox kills half a

dozen persons in one day, the fell work is that of an a-ni'-to; if a

man receives a stone bruise on the trail an a-ni'-to is in the foot and

must be removed before recovery is possible. There is one exception to

the above sweeping charge against the a-ni'-to -- the Igorot says that

toothache is caused by a small worm twisting and turning in the tooth.

Igorot society contains no person who is so malevolent as to cause

another sickness, insanity, or death. So charitable is the Igorot's

view of his fellows that when, a few years ago, two Bontoc men died

of poison administered by another town, the verdict was that the

administering hands were directed by some vengeful or diabolical

a-ni'-to.

As a people the Bontoc Igorot are healthful. It is seldom that an

epidemic reaches them; bubonic plague and leprosy are unknown to them.

By far the majority of deaths among them is due to what the Igorot

calls fever -- as they say, "im-po'-os nan a'-wak," or "heat of the

body" -- but they class as "fever" half a dozen serious diseases,

some almost always fatal.

The men at times suffer with malaria. They go to the low west coast as

cargadors or as primitive merchants, and they return to their mountain

country enervated by the heat, their systems filled with impure water,

and their blood teeming with mosquito-planted malaria. They get down

with fever, lose their appetite, neither know the value of nor have

the medicines of civilization, their minds are often poisoned with

the superstitious belief that they will die -- and they do die in

from three days to two months. In February, 1903, three cargadors

died within two weeks after returning from the coast.

Measles, chicken pox, typhus and typhoid fevers, and a disease

resulting from eating new rice are undifferentiated by the Igorot --

they are his "fever." Measles and chicken pox are generally fatal to

children. Igorot pueblos promptly and effectually quarantine against

these diseases. When a settlement is afflicted with either of them it

shuts its doors to all outsiders -- even using force if necessary;

but force is seldom demanded, as other pueblos at once forbid their

people to enter the afflicted settlement. The ravages of typhus and

typhoid fever may be imagined among a people who have no remedies

for them. The diseased condition resulting each year from eating new

rice has locally been called "rice cholera." During the months of

June, July, and August -- the two harvest months of rice and the one

following -- considerable rice of the new crop is annually eaten. If

rice has been stored in the palay houses until it is sweated it is

in every way a healthful, nutritious food, but when eaten before it

sweats it often produces diarrhea, usually leading to an acute bloody

dysentery which is often followed by vomiting and a sudden collapse --

as in Asiatic cholera.

In 1893 smallpox, ful-tang', came to Bontoc with a Spanish soldier

who was in the hospital from Quiangan. Some five or six adults and

sixty or seventy children died. The ravage took half a dozen in a day,

but the Igorot stamped out the plague by self-isolation. They talked

the situation over, agreed on a plan, and were faithful to it. All the

families not afflicted moved to the mountains; the others remained to

minister or be ministered to, as the case might be. About thirty-five

years ago smallpox wiped out a considerable settlement of Bontoc,

called La'-nao, situated nearer the river than are any dwellings

at present.

About thirty years ago cholera, pish-ti', visited the people, and

fifty or more deaths resulted.

Some twelve years ago ka-lag'-nas, an unidentified disease, destroyed

a great number of people, probably half a hundred. Those afflicted

were covered with small, itching festers, had attacks of nausea,

and death resulted in about three days.

Two women died in Bontoc in 1901 of beri-beri, called fu-tut. These

are the only cases known to have been there.

About ten years ago a man died from passing blood -- an ailment

which the Igorot named literally "in-is'-fo cha'-la or in-tay'-es

cha'-la." It was not dysentery, as the person at no time had a

diarrhea. He gradually weakened from the loss of small amounts of

blood until, in about a year, he died.

The above are the only fatal diseases now in the common memory of

the pueblo of Bontoc.

It is believed 95 per cent of the people suffer at some time, probably

much of the time, with some skin disease. They say no one has been

known to die of any of these skin diseases, but they are weakening and

annoying. Itch, ku'-lid, is the most common, and it takes an especially

strong hold on the babes in arms. This ku'-lid is not the ko'-lud

or gos-gos, the white scaly itch found among the people surrounding

those of the Bontoc culture area but not known to exist within it.

Two or three people suffer with rheumatism, fig-fig, but are seldom

confined to their homes.

One man has consumption, o'-kat. He has been coughing five or six

years, and is very thin and weak.

Diarrhea, or o-gi'-ak, frequently makes itself felt, but for only one

or two days at a time. It is most common when the locusts swarm over

the country, and the people eat them abundantly for several days. They

say no one, not even a babe, ever died of diarrhea.

Two of the three prostitutes of Bontoc, the cast-off mistresses of

Spanish soldiers, have syphilis, or na-na. Formerly one civilian was

afflicted, and at present four or five of the Constabulary soldiers

have contracted the disease.

Lang-ing'-i, a disease of sores and ulcers on the lips, nostrils,

and rectum, afflicted a few people three or four years ago. This

disease is very common in the pueblo of Ta-kong', but is reported as

never causing death.

Goiter, fi-kek' or fin-to'-kel, is quite common with adults, and is

more common with women than men.

Varicose veins, o'-pat, are not uncommon on the calves of both men

and women.

Many old people suffer greatly with toothache, called "pa-tug' nan

fob-a'." They say it is caused by a small worm, fi'-kis, which wriggles

and twists in the tooth. When one has an aching tooth extracted he

looks at it and inquires where "fi'-kis" is.

They suffer little from colds, mo-tug', and one rarely hears an

Igorot cough.

Headache, called both sa-kit' si o'-lo and pa-tug' si o'-lo, rarely

occurs except with fever.

Sore eyes, a condition known as in-o'-ki, are very frequently seen;

they doubtless precede most cases of blindness.

The Igorot bears pain well, but his various fatalistic superstitions

make him often an easy victim to a malady that would yield readily

to the science of modern medicine and from which, in the majority of

cases, he would probably recover if his mind could only assist his

body in withstanding the disease.

One is surprised to find that sores from bruises do not generally

heal quickly.

The Igorot attempts no therapeutic remedies for fevers, cholera,

beri-beri, rheumatism, consumption, diarrhea, syphilis, goiter, colds,

or sore eyes.

Some effort, therapeutic in its intent, is made to assist nature in

overcoming a few of the simplest ailments of the body.

For a cut, called "na-fa'-kag," the fruit of a grass-like herb named

la-lay'-ya is pounded to a paste, and then bound on the wound.

Burns, ma-la-fub-chong', are covered over with a piece of bark from

a tree called ta-kum'-fao.

Kay-yub', a vegetable root, is rubbed over the forehead in cases

of headache.

Boils, fu-yu-i', and swellings, nay-am-an' or kin-may-yon', are

treated with a poultice of a pounded herb called ok-ok-ong'-an.

Millet burned to a charcoal, pulverized, and mixed with pig fat is

used as a salve for the itch.

An herb called a-kum' is pounded and used as a poultice on ulcers

and sores.

For toothache salt is mixed with a pounded herb named ot-o'-tek and

the mass put in or around the aching tooth.

Leaves of the tree kay'-yam are steeped, and the decoction employed

as a bath for persons with smallpox.

Death and burial

It must be said that the Bontoc Igorot does not take death very

sorrowfully, and he does not take it at all passionately. A mother

weeps a day for a dead child or her husband, but death is said not to

bring tears from any man. Death causes no long or loud lamentation,

no tearing of the hair or cutting the body; it effects no somber

colors to deaden the emotions; no earth or ashes for the body --

all widespread mourning customs among primitive peoples. However,

when a child or mature man or woman dies the women assemble and sing

and wail a melancholy dirge, and they ask the departed why he went

so early. But for the aged there are neither tears nor wailings --

there is only grim philosophy. "You were old," they say, "and old

people die. You are dead, and now we shall place you in the earth. We

too are old, and soon we shall follow you."

All people die at the instance of an anito. There have been, however,

three suicides in Bontoc. Many years ago an old man and woman hung

themselves in their dwellings because they were old and infirm, and

a man from Bitwagan hung himself in the Spanish jail at Bontoc a few

years ago.

The spirit of the person who dies a so-called natural death is called

away by an anito. The anito of those who die in battle receive the

special name "pin-teng'"; such spirits are not called away, but the

person's slayer is told by some pin-teng', "You must take a head." So

it may be said that no death occurs among the Igorot (except the rare

death by suicide) which is not due directly to an anito.

Since they are warriors, the men who die in battle are the most

favored, but if not killed in battle all Igorot prefer to die in

their houses. Should they die elsewhere, they are at once taken home.

On March 19, 1903, wise, rich Som-kad', of ato Luwakan, and the oldest

man of Bontoc, heard an anito saying, "Come, Som-kad'; it is much

better in the mountains; come." The sick old man laboriously walked

from the pabafunan to the house of his oldest son, where he had for

nearly twenty years taken his food, and there among his children

and friends he died on the night of March 21. Just before he died a

chicken was killed, and the old people gathered at the house, cooked

the chicken, and ate, inviting the ancestral anitos and the departing

spirit of Som-kad' to the feast. Shortly after this the spirit of

the live man passed from the body searching the mountain spirit land

for kin and friend. They closed the old man's eyes, washed his body

and on it put the blue burial robe with the white "anito" figures

woven in it as a stripe. They fashioned a rude, high-back chair with

a low seat, a sung-a'-chil (Pl. XLI), and bound the dead man in it,

fastening him by bands about the waist, the arms, and head -- the

vegetal band entirely covering the open mouth. His hands were laid

in his lap. The chair was set close up before the door of the house,

with the corpse facing out. Four nights and days it remained there

in full sight of those who passed.

One-half the front wall of the dwelling and the interior partitions

except the sleeping compartment were removed to make room for those

who sat in the dwelling. Most of these came and went without function,

but day and night two young women sat or stood beside the corpse

always brushing away the flies which sought to gather at its nostrils.

During the first two days few men were about the house, but they

gathered in small groups in the vicinity of the fawi and pabafunan,

which were only three or four rods distant. Much of the time a blind

son of the dead man, the owner of the house where the old man died,

sat on his haunches in the shade under the low roof, and at frequent

intervals sang to a melancholy tune that his father was dead, that

his father could no longer care for him, and that he would be lonely

without him. On succeeding days other of the dead man's children,

three sons and five daughters, all rich and with families of their

own, were heard to sing the same words. Small numbers of women

sat about the front of the house or close in the shade of its roof

and under its cover. Now and then some one or more of them sang a

low-voiced, wordless song -- rather a soothing strain than a depressing

dirge. During the first days the old women, and again the old men,

sang at different times alone the following song, called "a-na'-ko"

when sung by the women, and "e-ya'-e" when by the men:

Now you are dead; we are all here to see you. We have given you all

things necessary, and have made good preparation for the burial. Do

not come to call away [to kill] any of your relatives or friends.

Nowhere was there visible any sign of fear or awe or wonder. The

women sitting about spun threads on their thighs for making skirts;

they talked and laughed and sang at will. Mothers nursed their babes

in the dwelling and under its projecting roof. Budding girls patted

and loved and dimpled the cheeks of the squirming babes of more

fortunate young women, and there was scarcely a child that passed in

or out of the house, that did not have to steady itself by laying a

hand on the lap of the corpse. All seemed to understand death. One,

they say, does not die until the anito calls -- and then one always

goes into a goodly life which the old men often see and tell about.

In a well-organized and developed modern enterprise the death of

a principal man causes little or no break. This is equally true in

Igorot life. The former is so because of perfected organization --

there are new men trained for all machines; and the latter is true

because of absence of organization -- there is almost no machinery

to be left unattended by the falling of one person.

On the third day the numbers increased. There were twenty-five or

thirty men in the vicinity of the house, on the south side of which

were half a dozen pots of basi,[21] from which men and boys drank

at pleasure, though not half a dozen became intoxicated. Late in

the afternoon a double row of men, the sons and sons-in-law of the

deceased, lined up on their haunches facing one another, and for half

an hour talked and laughed, counted on their fingers and gesticulated,

diagrammed on their palms, questioned, pointed with their lips and

nodded, as they divided the goodly property of the dead man. There

was no anger, no sharp word, or apparent dissent; all seemed to know

exactly what was each one's right. In about half an hour the property

was disposed of beyond probable future dispute.

There were more women present the third day than on the second,

and at all times about one-third more women than men; and there were

usually as many children about as there were grown persons. In all

the group of, say, 140 people, nowhere could one detect a sign of the

uncanny, or even the unusual. The apparent everydayness of it all to

them was what struck the observer most. The young women brushing away

the flies touched and turned the fast-blackening hands of the corpse

to note the rapid changes. Almost always there were small children

standing in the doorway looking into that blackened, swollen face,

and they turned away only to play or to loll about their mothers'

necks. Always there were women bending over other women's heads,

carefully parting the hair and scanning it. Women lay asleep stretched

in the shade; they talked, and droned, and laughed, and spun.

During the second day men had succeeded in catching in the mountains

one of the half-wild carabaos -- property of the deceased -- and this

was killed. Its head was placed in the house tied up by the horns

above and facing Som-kad', so the faces of the dead seemed looking

at each other, while on the third day the flesh, bones, intestines,

and hide were cooked for the crowd. During the third and fourth days

one carabao, one dog, eight hogs, and twenty chickens were killed,

cooked, and eaten.

On the fourth day the crowd increased. Custom lays idle all field

tools of an ato on the burial day of an adult of that ato; but the

day Som-kad' was buried the field work of the entire pueblo stood

still because of common respect for this man, so old and wise, so

rich and influential, and probably 200 people were about the house

all the day. By noon two well-defined groups of chanting old women

had formed -- one sitting in the house and the other in front of

it. Wordless, melancholy chants were sung in response between the

groups. The spaces surrounding the house became almost packed --

so much so that a dog succeeded in getting into the doorway, and the

threatenings and maledictions that drove it away were the loudest,

most disturbed expressions noted during the four days.

Before the house, which faced the west, lay the large pine coffin lid,

while to the south of it, turned bottom up, was the coffin with fresh

chips beside it hewn out that morning in further excavation. Children

played around the coffin and people lounged on its upturned

bottom. Near the front of the house a pot of water was always hot

over a smoldering, smoking fire. Now and then a chicken was brought,

light wood was tossed under the pot, the chicken was beaten to death

-- first the wings, then the neck, and then the head. The fowl was

quickly sprawled over the blaze, its feathers burned to a crisp, and

rubbed off with sticks. Its legs were severed from the body with the

battle-ax and put in the pot. From its front it was then cut through

its ribs with one gash. The back and breast parts were torn apart,

the gall examined and nodded over; the intestines were placed beneath

a large rock, and the gizzard, breast of the chicken, and back with

head attached dropped in the pot. During the killing and dressing

neither of the two men who prepared the feast hurried, yet scarcely

five minutes passed from the time the first blow was struck on the

wing of the squawking fowl until the work was over and the meat in

the boiling pot. The cooking of a fowl always brought a crowd of boys

who hung over the fragrant vessel, and they usually got their share

when, in about twenty minutes, the meat came forth. Three times in

the afternoon a fowl was thus distributed. Cooked pork was passed

among the people, and rice was always being brought. Twice a man went

through the crowd with a large winnowing tray of cooked carabao hide

cut in little blocks. This food was handed out on every side, people

tending children receiving double share. The people gathered and ate

in the congested spaces about the dwelling. The heat was intense --

there was scarcely a breath of air stirring. The odor from the body

was heavy and most sickening to an American, and yet there was no

trace of the unusual on the various faces.

New arrivals came to take their last look at Som-kad', now a black,

bloated, inhuman-looking thing, and they turned away apparently

unaffected by the sight.

The sun slid down behind the mountain ridge lying close to the pueblo,

and a dozen men armed with digging sticks and dirt baskets filed along

the trail some fifteen rods to the last fringe of houses. There they

dug a grave in a small, unused sementera plat where only the old,

rich men of the pueblo are buried. A group of twenty-five old women

gathered standing at the front of the house swaying to the right,

to the left, as they slowly droned in melancholy cadence:

You were old, and old people die. You are dead, and now we shall

place you in the earth. We too are old, and soon we shall follow you.

Again and again they droned, and when they ceased others within

the house took up the strain. During the singing the carabao head

was brought from the house, and the horns, with small section of

attached skull, chopped out, and the head returned to the ceiling of

the dwelling.

Presently a man came with a slender stick to measure the coffin. He

drove a nursing mother, with a woman companion and small child,

from comfortable seats on the upturned wood. The people, including

the group of old women, were driven away from the front of the house,

the coffin was laid down on the ground before the door, and an unopened

8-gallon olla of "preserved" meat was set at its foot. An old woman,

in no way distinguishable from the others by paraphernalia or other

marks, muttering, squatted beside the olla. Two men untied the bands

from the corpse, and one lifted it free from the chair and carried

it in his arms to the coffin. It was most unsightly, and streams of

rusty-brown liquid ran from it. It was placed face up, head elevated

even with the rim, and legs bent close at the knees but only slightly

at the hips. The old woman arose from beside the olla and helped lay

two new breechcloths and a blanket over the body. The face was left

uncovered, except that a small patch of white cloth ravelings, called

"fo-ot'," was laid over the eyes, and a small white cloth was laid

over the hair of the head. The burden was quickly caught up on men's

shoulders and hurried without halting to the grave. Willing bands

swarmed about the coffin. At all times as many men helped bear it

as could well get hold, and when they mounted the face of a 7-foot

sementera wall a dozen strong pairs of hands found service drawing

up and supporting the burden. Many men followed from the house one

brought the coffin cover and another the carabao horns -- but the

women and children remained behind, as is their custom at burials.

At the grave the coffin rested on the earth a moment[22] while a few

more basketfuls of dirt were thrown out, until the grave was about 5

feet deep. The coffin was then placed in the grave, the cover laid on,

and with a joke and a laugh the pair of horns was placed facing it

at the head. Instantly thirty-two men sprang on the piles of fresh,

loose dirt, and with their hands and the half dozen digging sticks

filled and covered the grave in the shortest possible time, probably

not over one minute and a half. And away they hurried, most of them

at a dogtrot, to wash themselves in the river.

From the instant the corpse was in the coffin until the grave was

filled all things were done in the greatest haste, because cawing

crows must not fly over, dogs must not bark, snakes or rats must not

cross the trail -- if they should, some dire evil would follow.

Shortly after the burial a ceremony, called "kap-i-yan si na-tu'," is

performed by the relatives in the dwelling wherein the corpse sat. It

is said to be the last ceremony given for the dead. Food is eaten

and the one in charge addresses the anito of the dead man as follows:

We have fixed all things right and well for you. When there was no rice

or chicken for food, we got them for you -- as was the custom of our

fathers -- so you will not come to make us sick. If another anito seeks

to harm us, you will protect us. When we make a feast and ask you to

come to it, we want you to do so; but if another anito kills all your

relatives, there will be no more houses for you to enter for feasts.

This last argument is considered to be a very important one, as all

Igorot are fond of feasting, and it is assumed that the anito has

the same desire.

The night following the burial all relatives stay at the house lately

occupied by the corpse.

On the day after the burial all the men relatives go to the river

and catch fish, the small kacho. The relatives have a fish feast,

called "ab-a-fon'," at the hour of the evening meal. To this feast

all ancestral anito are invited.

All relatives again spend the night at the house, from which they

return to their own dwellings after breakfast of the second day and

each goes laden with a plate of cooked rice.

In this way from two to eight days are given to the funeral rite,

the duration being greater with the wealthier people.

Only heads of families are buried in the large pine coffins, which

are kept ready stored beside the granaries everywhere about the

pueblo. As in the case of Som-kad', all old, rich men are buried in a

plat of ground close to the last fringe of dwellings on the west of

the pueblo, but all other persons except those who lose their heads

are buried close to their dwellings in the camote sementeras.

The burial clothes of a married man are the los-a'-dan, or blue

anito-figured burial robe, and a breechcloth of beaten bark, called

"chi-nang-ta'." In the coffin are placed a fa'-a, or blue cotton

breechcloth made in Titipan, the fan-cha'-la, a striped blue-and-white

cotton blanket, and the to-chong', a foot-square piece of beaten bark

or white cloth which is laid on the head.

A married woman is buried in a kay-in', a particular skirt made for

burial in Titipan, and a white blue-bordered waistcloth or la-ma. In

the coffin are placed a burial girdle, wa'-kis, also made in Titipan,

a blue-and-white-striped blanket called bay-a-ong', and the to-chong',

the small cloth or bark over the hair.

The unmarried are buried in graves near the dwelling, and these are

walled up the sides and covered with rocks and lastly with earth;

it is the old rock cairn instead of the wooden coffin. The bodies are

placed flat on their backs with knees bent and heels drawn up to the

buttocks. With the men are buried, besides the things interred with

the married men, the basket-work hat, the basket-work sleeping hat,

the spear, the battle-ax, and the earrings if any are possessed. These

additional things are buried, they say, because there is no family

with which to leave them, though all things interred are for the use

of the anito of the dead.

In addition to the various things buried with the married woman,

the unmarried has a sleeping hat.

Babes and children up to 6 or 7 years of age are buried in the

sementera wrapped in a crude beaten-bark mantle. This garment is

folded and wrapped about the body, and for babes, at least, is bound

and tied close about them.

Babies are buried close to the dwelling where the sun and storm

do not beat, because, as they say, babes are too tender to receive

harsh treatment.

For those beheaded in battle there is another burial, which is

described in a later chapter.