The Bontoc Igorot Part 6

The labor, lasting three or four hours, is una.s.sisted 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 p.u.b.erty 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 s.e.x 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 s.e.m.e.ntera 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 s.e.m.e.ntera 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 pa.s.sed 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. x.x.xII), 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

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 circ.u.mstances. 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 ill.u.s.trate 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."

Circ.u.mcision

Most boys are circ.u.mcised at from 4 to 7 years of age. The act of circ.u.mcision, 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 circ.u.mcision, 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 circ.u.mcision 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.

Amus.e.m.e.nts

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 gra.s.s 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 s.e.m.e.nteras 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 gra.s.s 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 gra.s.s 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 pa.s.ses.