My Friends the Savages Part 27

To learn thoroughly the beliefs of a people still in a savage state, and who are totally without any written guide to their faith, would be indeed a difficult undertaking. First of all they always fear that a stranger, particularly if white, brings with him a whole legion of bad spirits, and secondly because they are extremely jealous of their superst.i.tions and are afraid of incurring evil by revealing them to others.

It must also be considered that the Sakais (like all the other peoples to be found on the same level of intellectual development) have ideas so fragmentary and undetermined about religious matters that they are quite incapable of giving an explicit description of their spiritual feelings and convictions. It is only by living amongst them for a long time in confidence and familiarity that one can obtain any correct knowledge, and even then only by intent observation of facts which pa.s.s under one's eyes, as it is useless to attempt to get an explanation or ask questions, for the Sakais, truthful as they are by nature, would most certainly tell you a falsehood for the reasons alluded to in another chapter. Superst.i.tion always prevails over veracity when treating with persons not belonging to their race.

Wilken so writes in his book _Animism_: "With all the peoples in a primitive natural state nearly every daily event, every illness, every misfortune, every phenomenon, when not attributed to the souls of their dead, has a special spirit as the author. Lakes, seas, rivers, springs, mountains, caverns, trees, bushes, villages, towns, houses, roads, air, sky, the ground in under, in short all nature and the princ.i.p.al things they see, are, in their opinion, populated by supernatural beings. I need hardly say that not all the innumerable spirits in whom they believe have the same importance in their minds and therefore are not all venerated to the same extent. In the animist's cult fear reigns over every other sentiment, such as grat.i.tude, trust, devotion, etc., and the spirits that inspire the most fear are those invocated with the most fervour; in this way the bad spirits are installed in the place of the good ones".

We see then that the Sakais form no exception to this summary description of Mr. Wilken's.

They believe that only their sorcerers have the faculty of beholding spirits which satisfactorily explains to them the strange fact that they are always invisible to other eyes. For the rest, though, the Sakais, like all those on the same par in intellectual capacity, do not trouble their heads at all over whatever natural phenomena.

He feels deep veneration for the sun and water as being the two great sources of Life; he venerates also the moon and the stars without however applying any sacred rites to this sentiment but they do not care in the least to know of what these luminaries are composed, where they come from or where they go when they are not in sight. When the day arrives for the Sakai to put such questions to his brain he too will enter triumphantly into the vortex of civilization, impatient to find out the reason of everything he sees around and above him.

From force of habit he does not wonder at the change of day into night and the different phases of the moon but he is seized with great terror when an eclipse of the sun or moon takes place. He weeps and despairs, making horrible noises to put to flight the accursed spirit that is devouring one or other of the heavenly bodies, and as soon as the eclipse in over, he seems mad with joy that the _mahgis_ (sun) and getcheck (moon) have got the better of their enemy.

He is equally overcome with fright at the appearance of a rainbow, or at a shock of earthquake.

The Sakais have no idols of any kind, but they have great faith in the amulets which they make themselves by incising upon their combs and hair-pins (as before written) the form of certain plants, fruits, leaves and roots that they are fully persuaded are possessed of prodigious virtue.

In fact when a storm is approaching and the wind begins to agitate the forest, before commencing their usual invocations, both men and women hasten to stick in their hair all their combs and hairpins with the firm conviction that the wind, blowing upon these miraculous carvings will lose its power to do them harm.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Trap for big game.

_p._ 184.]

Here it must be observed that, apart from the superst.i.tious character of the fear the Sakais (especially those of the hills) have of the wind, this terror may be said to be almost justified.

The impetuous currents of air coming from below often bring amongst them the germs of various infections and in particular malarial fevers.

The poor natives in their ignorance of this, when they see their dear ones fall ill and often die after the wind's raging believe that it has brought into their village and left there, an invisible enemy.

The _Ala_, sorcerer, physician, and magician of the local superst.i.tions does all he can to keep unshaken the belief in spirits and exorcism. He fulfils the functions of his two-fold office with all the ignorance and the deception which is possible to him; ignorance, because he shares with the others a sincere terror of the Evil Spirit, and deception because he makes the others think that he can see the dreaded Being and has a certain power over him by means of words and gestures.

He is, upon a close and vigorous a.n.a.lysis, nothing but a vulgar swindler who obtains some sort of advantage by his artefices and succeeds in over-ruling his own people by giving advice which is often sought and always followed.

The _Ala_ is generally the son of an _Ala_, a circ.u.mstance that might lead someone, who is fond of similar studies, to make accurate researches in order to ascertain if imposture should be considered as a hereditary disease.

When the Evil Spirit, notwithstanding the cabalistic signs and mysterious words that proclaim the _Ala's_ prerogative in resisting and defeating him, has overcome and killed him, the corpse is not buried but is placed in an upright position between the roots of a tree not very far from his late residence. For seven days continual watch is kept over it and it is provided with food, tobacco and betel.

An old tradition, which I have managed with difficulty to piece together from fragments unconsciously dropped now and then, pretends that _ab antiquo_ a covenant was made between the tigers and sorcerers that after one of the latter had been dead a week his soul should enter a feline body.

If a son of the deceased _Ala_ wishes to succeed to his father's dignity, he must, at the end of the seven days established, go alone to keep watch over the corpse, taking with him a sort of incense-pan in which he burns a great quant.i.ty of perfumed resin in honour of the dead (an honour that is most opportune for his own nostrils!). He pa.s.ses the night in this way, or it is believed that he does, for n.o.body sets himself the task of spying his actions or of learning something about the night's proceedings fearing that evil would overtake him in consequence.

Whilst still engaged in this sanitary act, the tiger, animated by the soul of the defunct sorcerer, presents itself to the man who is engrossed in his scientific vigil and feigns to spring upon him to tear him to pieces. But he continues to keep alight the sweet-smelling resin and does not betray his inward perturbation or give the slightest movement of fear, which would, without emission, cost him his life. Then the terrible scene changes; the wild beast suddenly disappears and encircled by a soft light two beautiful fairies come forward to teach the new _Ala_ the occult science of his chosen ministry including cabalistic words and medical art. The two elves then become the familiar spirits of the sorcerer who is in this manner consecrated.

No witness is allowed to be present. No profane eye may see those two good spirits.

If it happens that the aspirant never makes his return it is immediately decided that he showed he was afraid and had been eaten up by the not too fatherly tiger. It would be, at least, a sure proof that he had watched that night in the forest!

The succession of a son to his father in the office of _Ala_ is not obligatory but all the Sakais wish it to be so as otherwise the soul of the dead man would always remain in the body of a tiger and treasures of wisdom and power would be lost to the tribe he had belonged to.

Not all the villages have the fortune to possess an _Ala_ of their own who--by the way--does not differ in his domestic life from any of the poor mortals around him. He has a wife, and children, makes poisons, chews tobacco and _sirih_, sleeps and goes out shooting. Those settlements that have no _Ala_ in their midst go in search of one in the nearest encampment and the physician-priest responds quickly to the invitation by hastening to the spot indicated.

There being no ritual in the Sakai ceremonies, the simple functions of the _Ala_ are very limited.

He has to mumble in an unintelligible manner mysterious words (the meaning of which he does not know himself) when a poisonous mixture is being boiled in order to render its venomous virtue more efficacious. He makes exorcisms against the evil spirits when the wind arises or a heavy storm breaks or he is called to visit a sick person.

In the latter case duties are merged in those of the physician's for whilst preparing some remedies with herbs possessing medicinal properties (of which he knows very few out of the mult.i.tude that grows in the Malai forests) he proceeds to exercise the authority reposed in him, according to the Sakai beliefs by attempting to cast out the evil spirit from his patient.

This act is called the _tay nak_. He first asks the sufferer where the pain is, then making a sort of brush with some palm leaves he holds it in left hand. The right he closes loosely and lays it on the place that aches, puts his mouth to the opening left through the lightly closed fingers and begins to pull in his breath as hard as he can. Sometimes he is able in this way to draw out the demon which has caused the illness, from the patient's body into his hand and drives it away by energetically beating it with the brush.

The sorcerer is aware if the spirit has come out by a very pale light, which only he can see, though!

But if the malady is a serious one this cure fails, a sure proof that the spirit is one of the most dreaded cla.s.s and must therefore be heroically fought by means of the _chintok_, as follows.

The village in which the afflicted person lives is closed in by numerous traps, and planted all round with poisoned arrows so that n.o.body can come near, even if someone were to succeed in crossing that original _cordon sanitaire_ without any fatal consequence he would most certainly be killed inside it as it is feared that another evil spirit may be imported by an outsider, in aid of the one they are trying to get rid of.

Over the body of the infirm they form a canopy of medicinal herbs; the _Ala_ and the company present paint themselves in the most horrible manner possible and as soon as it is quite dark (any sort of light is absolutely forbidden) they dispose themselves around the invalid and begin to madly beat their big bamboo canes. Their frenzy and the noise they make cannot be described; it makes one shudder, and the sound can be heard several miles off.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Abandoned because of contagious disease.

_p._ 193.]

But it is intended to heal the poor wretch in the middle who, if he does not succ.u.mb to the violence of his disease, has a good chance of dying from the torture endured.

The diabolical concert lasts until the garrulous harbingers of the sun announce the dawn but is repeated after sunset for seven days during which period only the men are permitted to go into the forest in search of food.

If on the seventh day the patient is still alive he is left in peace unless a relapse should render another night of music necessary, and if he dies it is believed that the malignant spirit would not depart without taking the soul of his victim with him.

The most frequent illnesses to which the Sakais are subject are rheumatic complaints and very heavy colds which not rarely turn into severe bronchial and pulmonary ailments. Both are due to the cold at night against which they take no pains at all to protect themselves.

Their huts shelter them from the rain but not from the air.

Some contagious skin diseases are also prevalent amongst them.

Directly somebody is seized with this malady a tree is selected at some distance from the settlement up which a little bower is hurriedly made and the person attacked is placed there and left with a little food at hand. Next day the relatives go to see if he or she is living and call out their demands, in a loud voice, a long way off. If there is a movement or an answer they go nearer and throw up some food but if there is no sign of life they hasten back and leave the corpse to decompose in the bower that now serves as a sepulchre.

No rites whatever are performed at the death and burial of an individual.

When the sufferer has breathed its last all the people in the village unite in making grand lamentations. They cry, moan and howl worse than at the proverbial Irish funeral, they blacken their faces with charcoal and daub it with other colours to frighten away the bad spirit whilst the family crowd round the dead body and let their tears flow freely, exclaiming: