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diff --git a/78356-0.txt b/78356-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..39ad0e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/78356-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19164 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78356 *** + + + + + THE + ANDAMAN ISLANDERS + + A STUDY IN SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY + (ANTHONY WILKIN STUDENTSHIP RESEARCH, 1906) + + + BY + A. R. BROWN, M.A. + FORMERLY FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE + + + CAMBRIDGE + AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS + 1922 + + + + + + + + + TO + Dr A. C. HADDON, F.R.S. + AND + Dr W. H. R. RIVERS, F.R.S. + + TO WHOSE INSTRUCTION AND KIND ENCOURAGEMENT IS DUE + WHATEVER VALUE IT MAY POSSESS, + THIS WORK OF APPRENTICESHIP IS DEDICATED. + + + + + + + + +PREFACE + + +This book contains some part of the results of anthropological research +carried out in the Andaman Islands in the years 1906 to 1908, under the +terms of the Anthony Wilkin Studentship in Ethnology of the University +of Cambridge. The funds supplied by the studentship were supplemented +by grants from the Royal Society and from the government of India. In +its original form the monograph was presented as a fellowship thesis at +Trinity College. The work of rewriting it was interrupted by absence +from England and was only completed in 1914. There has since been a +long delay in publication as a result of the war. + +The book deals with the social institutions of the tribes of the Great +Andaman. These had previously been studied by Mr E. H. Man to whose +work I have been obliged to make many references in order that my +account may be as complete as possible. I should have preferred to +devote my attention almost exclusively to the natives of the Little +Andaman, about whom very little is known. I found, however, that it was +not possible in the time at my disposal to do any satisfactory work +amongst these people owing to the difficulty of language. The natives +of the Little Andaman know no language but their own, and that is so +little related to the languages of the Great Andaman that even a +thorough knowledge of the latter is of almost no use in an attempt to +learn the former. I spent nearly three months camped with natives of +the Little Andaman, giving most of the time to learning their language. +No one who has not actually made the attempt to learn the language of a +savage people without the help of an interpreter, can form an adequate +idea of the difficulties of the task. At the end of three months I +found that at the same rate of progress it would take me two or three +years to learn to speak the language sufficiently well to begin to +question the natives about their customs and beliefs and understand +their answers. I was therefore regretfully compelled to give up the +idea of making a study of the people of the Little Andaman, and devoted +the remainder of my time to the study of the tribes of the Great +Andaman, particularly those of the North Andaman among whom Mr Man had +not worked. I kept one boy from the Little Andaman with me for some +months in the hope that he would learn sufficient Hindustani to act as +an interpreter and so enable any future investigator to begin work with +the great advantage that I had lacked. + +In my work amongst the natives of the Great Andaman I at first made use +of Hindustani, which the younger men and women all speak more or less +imperfectly, and gradually acquired a knowledge of the dialects of the +North Andaman. Towards the end of my stay in the islands I was able to +obtain the services as interpreter of a man of the Akar-Bale tribe who +spoke English well and was of considerable intelligence. He is shown in +the photographs of Plates V and XIII. With his help I was able to do +some work with the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar tribes, and I found that +with such an interpreter I was able to obtain much fuller and more +reliable results than I could by using my own knowledge of the native +language supplemented by Hindustani. If I had had his services from the +outset my work would have been much easier and more thorough. + +The results of my researches on the physical anthropology of the +Andaman Islanders have not been published. I hoped to be able to obtain +the services of some one more competent in such matters than myself to +assist or direct me in the measurement and study of the collection of +skulls and skeletons that I brought to England and that is now in the +Anthropological Museum at Cambridge. In this I was disappointed, and +absence from England has prevented me from completing my work in this +branch of research. + +The languages of the Andaman Islands are chiefly of interest as +affording material for the study of comparative grammar and the +psychology of language. I had hoped to be able to make some use of the +large mass of linguistic material collected by Mr E. H. Man and +arranged by Sir Richard Temple, which the latter was so kind as to +permit me to examine. Mr Man, however, expressed the intention of +publishing that material himself. Therefore, rather than delay longer, +I began the publication of my own linguistic studies in a series of +papers in the journal Anthropos, of which, however, only the first had +appeared when the outbreak of war interrupted them [1]. I cannot say +when the publication of these notes will be resumed. + +Chapters V and VI of the present work contain an attempt at an +interpretation of the Andamanese customs and beliefs, which I regard as +the most important and hope will be the most valuable part of the book. +It is some years since they were written and although they have +undergone some revision they now seem to me so inadequately to express +my thought that I could wish to rewrite them entirely. At the time they +were written (1910) they exhibited an attempt to develop a new method +in the interpretation of the institutions of a primitive people. That +method will not perhaps seem so novel now as it would have done then. +However, I hope that the two chapters will still have value as an +example of the method which I believe to be fundamental in the science +that has lately come to be known as social anthropology [2]. + +Of the many imperfections of the book I am, I think, only too well +aware. It is indeed an apprentice work, for it was through my work in +the Andamans that I really learnt anthropology. However good may be his +preliminary training (and mine under Drs Haddon, Rivers and Duckworth +at Cambridge was, I think, as thorough as possible) it is only by +actually living with and working amongst a primitive people that the +social anthropologist can acquire his real training. Naturally work +done while learning how to do it must necessarily be faulty. + +It is very late now to place on record my obligations to the officers +of the settlement of Port Blair, particularly to Colonel Herbert and +Colonel Browning, the successive chief commissioners, for their +kindness and help during my stay in the islands. + +To Dr Haddon and Dr Rivers I am obliged for reading the proofs and for +many helpful suggestions. + + +A. R. BROWN. + +University of Cape Town, +January 1922. + + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + Introduction 1 + I. The Social Organisation 22 + II. Ceremonial Customs 88 + III. Religious and Magical Beliefs 136 + IV. Myths and Legends 186 + V. The Interpretation of Andamanese Customs and Beliefs: + Ceremonial 229 + VI. The Interpretation of Andamanese Customs and Beliefs: + Myths and Legends 330 + Appendix A. The Technical Culture of the Andaman Islanders 407 + Appendix B. The Spelling of Andamanese Words 495 + Index 499 + + + + + + + + +LIST OF PLATES AND MAPS + + +Frontispiece. An Andaman Islander shooting fish with bow and arrow on +the reefs at Port Blair + +PLATE +I. A young man of the North Andaman To face p. 26 +II. A young married woman ,, ,, ,, 27 +III. A man of the North Andaman and his son. (The + man’s height is 1438 mm., 4 feet 8 inches) ,, ,, ,, 28 +IV. A married woman of the Great Andaman wearing + belts of Pandanus leaf and ornaments of + Dentalium shell ,, ,, ,, 29 +V. A man of the Akar-Bale tribe with South + Andaman bow and arrows, wearing belt and + necklace of netting and Dentalium shell. + (Height 1494 mm., 4 feet 9 inches) ,, ,, ,, 30 +VI. Portion of the village of Moi-lepto, + Akar-Bale tribe. On the right is an + unfinished mat of palm leaves for the roof of + a new hut ,, ,, ,, 32 +VII. A hut in the village of Moi-lepto, showing ,, ,, ,, 34 + the mode of construction +VIII. A village of the Middle Andaman ,, ,, ,, 36 +IX. Woman decorated with odu clay ,, ,, ,, 120 +X. Woman decorated with odu clay ,, ,, ,, 121 +XI. Three men and a young woman decorated with + odu clay ,, ,, ,, 122 +XII. A young man decorated with white clay in + readiness for a dance ,, ,, ,, 124 +XIII. A man with a pattern of white clay on his + face ,, ,, ,, 125 +XIV. A woman with her child ,, ,, ,, 126 +XV. A young married woman, showing pattern + scarified on body and arms ,, ,, ,, 127 +XVI. A girl during the ceremony at puberty, + decorated with strips of Pandanus leaf ,, ,, ,, 128 +XVII. A woman wearing clay on her forehead as a + sign of mourning ,, ,, ,, 129 +XVIII. A girl wearing her sister’s skull ,, ,, ,, 132 +XIX. The peace-making dance of the North Andaman ,, ,, ,, 134 +Map 1. South-eastern Asia, showing the present + distribution of the Negrito Race ,, ,, ,, 6 +Map 2. The Andaman Islands, showing the distribution + of tribes ,, ,, ,, 11 + + + + + + +LIST OF FIGURES IN THE TEXT + + + PAGE + Plan of Andamanese Village 34 + + Fig. 1. Section of Little Andaman bow, in the middle and + near the end 420 + ,, 2. Shoulder of Little Andaman bow 420 + ,, 3. Bow-string of twisted fibre, Little Andaman 421 + ,, 4. Diagram showing the method of making the loop + in the end of the Little Andaman bow-string 421 + ,, 5. Section of bow from North Sentinel Island 422 + ,, 6. Section of Jarawa bow 422 + ,, 7. Upper end of South Andaman bow 423 + ,, 8. Section across the blade of a South Andaman bow 424 + ,, 9. Loop of bow-string, South Andaman 425 + ,, 10. Ornament on South Andaman bow 426 + ,, 11. Section across the blade of a North Andaman bow 427 + ,, 12. North Andaman bow seen from the front 429 + ,, 13. North Andaman bow; A, in the half-strung or + reversed position; B, in the fully strung + position 429 + ,, 14. Toy bow of the North Andaman 432 + ,, 15. Section across the middle of four Semang bows 434 + ,, 16. Fish-arrow of the Great Andaman 437 + ,, 17. Head of pig-arrow, Great Andaman 437 + ,, 18. Pig-arrow with detachable head, Great Andaman 437 + ,, 19. Method of making the cord of the Great Andaman + pig-arrow 437 + ,, 20. Pig-arrow, Little Andaman 440 + ,, 21. Head of Jarawa pig-arrow 440 + ,, 22. Arrow with head of Areca wood, Great Andaman 440 + ,, 23. Harpoon, Great Andaman 440 + ,, 24. Turtle net, South Andaman 442 + ,, 25. Knot used in making the North Andaman turtle net 443 + ,, 26. North Andaman fish-gig 444 + ,, 27. Boar’s tusk, used as a spokeshave 448 + ,, 28. Adze and knife 449 + ,, 29. Method of making bamboo mat, Little Andaman 456 + ,, 30. Diagram showing the technique used in making + mats of thatch 457 + ,, 31. Diagram showing the technique used in Great + Andaman mats 457 + ,, 32 a, 32 b. Pot, tied up for carrying, North + Andaman 459, 460 + ,, 33. Basket for carrying pot, South Andaman 461 + ,, 34. Portion of basket of Little Andaman 462 + ,, 35. Portion of basket of South Andaman 464 + ,, 36. Pig’s skull with basket-work, Jarawa 466 + ,, 37. Diagram showing netting needle, and method of + netting 471 + ,, 38. Shape of North Andaman pot 473 + ,, 39. Shape of South Andaman pot 474 + ,, 40. Necklaces of mangrove seed-tops, Great Andaman 480 + ,, 41. Diagram showing method of making ornamental cord, + Little Andaman 481 + ,, 42. Designs incised or painted on belts of Pandanus + leaf, Great Andaman 484 + ,, 43. Designs on bamboo necklace from the North Andaman 485 + ,, 44. Transverse section of canoe and outrigger 487 + ,, 45. Showing manner in which the boom is connected + with the float 488 + ,, 46. Paddle 489 + + + + + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The Andaman Islands are part of a chain of islands stretching from Cape +Negrais in Burma to Achin Head in Sumatra. This line of islands forms a +single geographical system, as it were a submarine range of mountains, +the highest points rising here and there above the surface of the +ocean. Some 80 miles or so from Cape Negrais lies the first of the +islands in the chain, Preparis Island, between which and the mainland +the sea depth does not exceed 100 fathoms. Southwards of this the +submarine ridge sinks to a depth of about 150 fathoms, rising again to +form the small group of islands known as the Cocos, some 50 miles from +Preparis. Geographically the Cocos may be regarded as part of the +Andaman Group. Landfall Island, the most northerly point of the +Andamans proper, is only distant from them some 30 miles, and the sea +depth between does not exceed 45 fathoms. The Andaman Group itself +consists of the Great and Little Andaman with their outlying islets, +and occupies a distance approximately north and south of about 210 +miles. Eighty miles to the south of the Andamans lie the Nicobar +Islands, a scattered archipelago occupying a distance of about 160 +miles from north to south. The sea between the Andamans and the +Nicobars is over 700 fathoms deep. Deep sea also divides the Nicobars +from Sumatra, which is about 110 miles distant from the most southerly +point of Great Nicobar. + +This line of islands is part of a long fold extending from the eastern +end of the Himalayas, which includes the Arakan Yomah Range of Burma +and the Andaman and Nicobar Islands and finds its continuation in the +islands off the west coast of Sumatra [3]. + +On the west the Andamans are separated from the coast of Madras, 700 +miles distant, by the Sea of Bengal. On the east the Andaman Sea, a +depression with a depth of over 1000 fathoms, separates the Andamans +and Nicobars from the Malay Isthmus and Peninsula. Across the Andaman +Sea, less than 100 miles distant from the Andamans, there runs a line +of volcanic activity, marked by two small islands, Barren Island in +Lat. 12° 15´ N. and Long. 93° 50´ E., and Narkondam in Lat. 13° 26´ N. +and Long. 95° 15´ E. [4] + +The Cocos, the Andamans and the Nicobars are now part of the Indian +Empire. The Cocos Islands are occupied by a station for wireless +telegraphy. In the Andaman Islands there is a penal settlement at Port +Blair, to which are sent the criminals of India and Burma. The Nicobars +are treated as one with the Andamans for administrative purposes. + +Until the nineteenth century the Cocos Islands were uninhabited. The +Andamans and the Nicobars have for many centuries been inhabited by two +entirely different races. The Andamanese belong to that branch of the +human species known to anthropologists as the Negrito race. They are +short of stature with black skins and frizzy hair. The Nicobarese, on +the other hand, resemble the races of Indo-China and Malaya, and have +brown skins and lank hair, and are of medium stature. + +The Andaman Islands consist of the Great Andaman and the Little +Andaman, and a number of smaller islands. The Great Andaman may be +regarded as one island, although it is divided by narrow sea water +creeks into four areas, often spoken of as separate islands and called +North Andaman, Middle Andaman, Baratang and South Andaman. It is a long +narrow stretch of land with a much indented coast, surrounded by many +smaller islands, of which the most important are Interview Island off +the west coast, Ritchie’s Archipelago on the east, Rutland Island at +the extreme south, and the outlying North Sentinel Island. The length +of the Great Andaman with Rutland Island is nearly 160 miles, while the +breadth from sea to sea is nowhere more than 20 miles. The Little +Andaman lies to the south of the Great Andaman, about 30 miles distant +from Rutland Island, from which it is separated by a shallow strait +with a maximum depth of only 21 fathoms. The island is about 26 miles +long from north to south and about 16 miles wide. + +Viewed from the sea the islands appear as a series of hills, nowhere of +any great height, covered from sky-line to high-water mark with dense +and lofty forest. The hill-ranges run approximately north and south, in +the same direction as the islands themselves, and attain a greater +elevation on the east than on the west. The highest point of the North +Andaman is Saddle Peak (2402 feet), that of Middle Andaman is Mt +Diavolo (1678 feet), while the South Andaman has the Mt Harriett Range +(1505 feet), and in Rutland Island there is Mt Foord (1422 feet). There +are no streams of any size. The water drains from the hills into tidal +creeks running through mangrove swamps, often many miles in length. The +coast is broken by a number of magnificent harbours. The shores are +fringed with extensive coral reefs, and on these and in the creeks +there is abundance of fish and molluscs. + +The islands, save for the clearings of the Penal Settlement, are +covered with dense tropical forest. There are few mammals, the only two +of any size being a species of pig (Sus andamanensis, Blyth) and a +civet-cat (Paradoxurus tytlerii, Tytler). The other mammals are a few +species of rats, a tree-shrew and some species of bats. Of birds there +are many different species, some of them peculiar to the islands. The +reptiles include a considerable number of species of snakes, and a few +species of lizards, of which the most noteworthy is the large Monitor +lizard (Varanus salvator). + +The climate is warm and moist, and fairly uniform throughout the year. +The mean temperature for the year at Port Blair is about 86° F. (80° F. +on the wet bulb thermometer). The lowest temperatures are recorded in +January and February, and the highest in March, April, or May. The +average lowest temperature in the South Andaman over a period of seven +years is 66·7° F., the minimum during that period being 63° F. The +average highest temperature in the shade for the same period was 96° +F., the maximum being 97°. The average diurnal variation is 10°. + +The average rainfall of seven stations in the Penal Settlement of Port +Blair, for a period of seven years, was 138 inches per annum, the +averages of the different stations varying from 104 to 172 inches. For +the same period the average number of rainy days in the year was 177, +the minimum being 160 and the maximum 196. + +The islands are sufficiently far from the Equator to have a single +well-defined rainy season. The greater part of the rain falls during +the south-west monsoon, which lasts from the middle of May to the +middle of November. The north-east monsoon extends over the other six +months of the year, which include the dry and hot seasons. + +The average weather can be shown most conveniently by means of a +calendar. + + +January. Cool; little or no rain; wind N.N.E.; nights sometimes foggy. + +February. Cool; little or no rain; wind N.N.E.; very clear; light airs. + +March. Hot by day, cool nights; little or no rain; wind N.N.E.; light +airs, occasional haze; the weather gets hotter as the month passes. + +April. Very hot; little or no rain; wind variable, off-shore at night +and on-shore by day; calm and hazy. + +May. The first half of the month like April; the south-west monsoon +sets in about the 15th; the remainder of the month cooler and with wind +W.S.W. + +June. Fairly cool; heavy rains; wind W.S.W., squally. + +July. } + } +August. } Do. do. do. do. + } +September. } + +October. Variable wind and weather; generally some calm weather; +waterspouts may occur. + +November. During the first half of the month the wind and weather are +very uncertain; a cyclone may occur; after the middle of the month the +north-east monsoon sets in. + +December. Fairly cool; not much rain; wind N.N.E. + + +Many of the violent cyclonic storms that sweep across the Sea of Bengal +seem to form themselves a little to the south of the Andamans. Cyclones +of exceptional violence struck Port Cornwallis in 1844 and Port Blair +in 1864 and 1891. + +The aborigines of the Andaman Islands have been in their present home +for a great many centuries. It is not possible to say with any degree +of certainty how or when they first reached the islands. Geological and +other evidence would seem to show that the Andamans were united to the +mainland along the line of the Arakan Fold in later Tertiary times, but +even this is perhaps not quite certain [5]. In any case the period of +past land connection seems to be so remote that it had probably ceased +to exist at the time when the islands were peopled by the ancestors of +the present natives. If the ancestors of the Andamanese reached the +islands at the time of a past land connection, they can only have done +so from the Arakan region of Burma. On the other hand, if they +travelled by sea they must almost certainly have started from the +Burmese coast (Pegu or Arakan). The north-east monsoon would drift them +thence on to the Andamans. It is conceivable that they might have +travelled from Sumatra by way of the Nicobars, but the north-east +monsoon would have opposed their progress in this direction, while the +south-west monsoon would have driven them to the east of the Andamans +[6]. It is hardly possible to imagine them coming from the Malay +Peninsula across the wide stretch of the Andaman Sea. The balance of +probability is in favour of the view that the Andamans were peopled, +either by sea or by land, from the region of Lower Burma. + +Of the Negrito race, to which the Andamanese belong, there are two +other branches still in existence. The first of these consists of the +people who may be conveniently spoken of as the Semang, inhabiting the +interior of the Malay Peninsula between 5° and 7° N. Latitude. The +other branch of this primitive race is found in the interior of the +Philippine Islands. From their present distribution it is clear that +the Negritos must at some long past time have wandered over a wide area +in south-eastern Asia. The connection between the Andamanese and the +Semang can only have been either through Sumatra and the Nicobars, or, +more probably, by way of Lower Burma. Communication between the Malay +Peninsula and the Philippine Islands must have been either by way of +Borneo or Celebes, or else by way of Annam and Cochin China. It is +certainly many centuries, and probably many thousands of years, since +the three surviving branches of the race were cut off from all +communication with each other [7]. + +In the Malay Peninsula and in the Philippines the Negritos have for a +long time been living in contact with other races. They have been +driven back from the coasts and fertile valleys into the less +accessible districts. There is ample evidence that they have adopted +many of the customs of the races around them, and have even adopted to +a great extent the language of their alien neighbours. The original +Negrito culture and language and even perhaps the original physical +type have been modified in these two branches of the race. + +In the case of the Andaman Islanders it is possible that they have been +entirely isolated in their island home, and have not been affected by +contact with other races, but have been free to develop their own +culture in adaptation to their own environment. If a hypothesis to this +effect were accepted we should see in the Andamanese the direct +descendants, in physical character, in language, and in culture, of the +original Negrito race. In historical times it is known that the islands +have been avoided by mariners navigating the adjacent seas, owing to +the fact that the natives attacked all strangers who landed or were +wrecked upon their shores. Moreover, the islands offered little +inducement to visitors or settlers. The coconut, which is one of the +mainstays of life in tropical islands, was not found in the Andamans +prior to the first European settlement. + +The earliest authentic reference to the Andaman Islands seems to be +that of two Arab travellers dating from A.D. 871. In the eighteenth +century the Abbé Renaudot translated the account of these travels. Of +the Andamans we read, “Au de-là de ces deux Isles on trouve la mer +appellée d’Andeman. Les peuples qui habitent sur la coste, mangent de +la chair humaine, toute cruë. Ils sont noirs, ils ont les cheveux +crespus, le visage et les yeux affreux, les pieds fort grands et +presque longs d’une coudée, et ils vont tout nuds. Ils n’ont point de +barques, et s’ils en avoient ils ne mangeroient pas tous les passants +qu’ils peuvent attraper. Les vaisseaux se trouvant retardez dans leur +route par les vents contraires, sont souvent obligez dans ces mers de +mouiller à la coste où sont ces Barbares pour y faire de l’eau, lors +qu’ils ont consommé celle qu’ils avoient à bord. Ils en attrapent +souvent quelques-uns, mais la pluspart se sauvent [8].” + +It would seem that the Chinese and Japanese knew the islands in the +first millenium A.D., and referred to them by the names Yeng-t’o-mang +and Andaban respectively [9]. Marco Polo gives a brief notice of the +islands. “Angaman is a very large island, not governed by a king. The +inhabitants are idolaters, and are a most brutish and savage race, +having heads, eyes, and teeth resembling those of the canine species. +Their dispositions are cruel, and every person, not being of their own +nation, whom they can lay their hands upon, they kill and eat [10].” +Some of Marco Polo’s statements about the Andamans, as that the natives +live on rice and milk, and that they have coconuts, and plantains, are +incorrect. It is evident that all he knew of the islands was derived +from hearsay. The passage quoted is only of importance as showing that +the reputation of the Andamanese was such as to cause them to be feared +and avoided. + +A more trustworthy account is that of Master Caesar Frederike, who +passed near the Nicobars in 1566. “From Nicubar to Pegu is, as it were, +a row or chain of an infinite number of islands, of which many are +inhabited with wild people; and they call those islands the Islands of +Andemaon, and they call their people savage or wild, because they eat +one another: also, these islands have war one with another, for they +have small barques, and with them they take one another, and so eat one +another: and if by evil chance any ship be lost on those islands, as +many have been, there is not one man of those ships lost there that +escapeth uneaten or unslain. These people have not any acquaintance +with any other people, neither have they trade with any, but live only +of such fruits as those islands yield [11].” + +There are numerous references to the Andamans in the seventeenth and +eighteenth century, and all of them show that the islands were feared +and avoided. During these and the previous centuries wrecks must have +occurred in considerable numbers, and it is probable, from what is now +known of the natives, that the mariners would be immediately slain. +Visits were also paid by ships whose water supply had run out, and by +Malay pirates. There is evidence that boats, either Malay or Chinese, +sometimes visited the islands in search of edible birds’ nests and +trepang. In some cases Andamanese were captured and carried off as +slaves. It is extremely improbable that such visitors ever succeeded in +establishing friendly relations with the islanders. + +There is one way in which the life of the Andamanese was affected by +the vessels that visited or were wrecked upon their shores, since it +was by this means that they learnt the use of iron. + +It is impossible now to determine the date at which they became +acquainted with the metal. The earliest reference to the subject is in +an account of a visit to the Andamans in 1771, where it is shown that +the natives were at that time aware of the value of iron [12]. Until +the middle of the nineteenth century the only supply of the metal was +from wrecks, of which there have always been a fair number. + +Until the end of the eighteenth century there was no attempt made to +open up communication with the Andaman Islands, although the Nicobar +Islands were the scene of several attempts to establish a colony. In +1788, owing to the menace to shipping constituted by the islands and +their inhabitants, the East India Company, under Lord Cornwallis, +commissioned Archibald Blair to start a settlement, convicts being sent +as labourers. The settlement was founded in September, 1789, in the +harbour now known as Port Blair, but then called Port Cornwallis. In +spite of the hostility of the natives the colony seems to have been +successful. In 1792 it was transferred from the first site to the +harbour in the North Andaman now known as Port Cornwallis. The transfer +was made with the idea of creating a naval base, for which the spot +chosen was well adapted. Unfortunately the new site proved to be very +unhealthy, and in 1796 the scheme was abandoned, the convicts were +transferred to Penang, and the settlers returned to India. + +During the next sixty years the islands remained unoccupied save by the +aborigines. There were a number of wrecks in different parts of the +islands, and in some cases the crews were slain. In 1839 a geologist, +Dr Helfer, visited the islands in the hope of finding minerals, and was +killed by the natives. In 1844 two transports, the Briton and the +Runnymede, were wrecked in a cyclone on Ritchie’s Archipelago, one of +the ships being thrown high up over a reef into a mangrove swamp. The +crew and soldiers were safely landed, and were eventually rescued with +hardly any loss of life. As they were a large party they were safe from +the possible attacks of the natives, and they lived on stores rescued +from the wrecks. + +In view of the number of wrecks that occurred on the islands and the +desirability of establishing there some harbour where vessels might +safely call for water or shelter from storms, the East India Company +again considered the question of colonizing the Andamans. When the +Company, at the end of the Indian Mutiny, found themselves with a large +number of prisoners on their hands, it was decided to create a new +Penal Settlement, and the site of the settlement of 1788 was chosen for +this purpose, and renamed Port Blair. + +The Penal Settlement was established in March 1858, and has been in +existence ever since. The aborigines were hostile from the outset, and +gave much trouble by their raids. They made a determined effort to oust +the invaders from their country. To establish friendly relations with +them an institution known as the Andamanese Homes was founded, to +provide free rations and lodging, and medical attendance, to such of +them as could be induced to visit the Settlement. Through the efforts +of successive officers in charge of these Homes friendly relations were +established, first of all with the Aka-Bea tribe in the neighbourhood +of Port Blair, then with other tribes of the South Andaman, and at a +later date with the inhabitants of the North Andaman and the Little +Andaman. At the present day there is only one body of Andamanese still +persistently hostile, and these are the so-called J̌a̤rawa of the +interior of the South Andaman. These J̌a̤rawa, since about 1870, have +made repeated attacks on isolated parties of convicts and forest +workers and on the friendly Andamanese. Punitive expeditions have been +sent against them on several occasions, and attempts to set up friendly +relations with them have been made by leaving presents in their huts, +and by capturing some of them and keeping them for a time at Port +Blair. At the present time the J̌a̤rawa are as hostile as ever. + +Although of one race throughout, the Andaman Islanders are divided into +several groups, with differences of language and culture. There are two +main divisions, which will be spoken of as the Great Andaman Group and +the Little Andaman Group respectively. The Great Andaman Group includes +all the natives of the Great Andaman with the exception of those of the +interior of the South Andaman who are known as J̌a̤rawa. The Little +Andaman Group includes all the inhabitants of the Little Andaman, those +of the North Sentinel Island and the J̌a̤rawa of the South Andaman. + +These two different divisions exhibit many differences of language and +culture. All the languages of the Great Andaman Group are closely +related to one another. They have the same grammatical structure, and a +large number of roots are the same in all or in several of them. In the +same way the language of the J̌a̤rawa, so far as it is known, is very +similar to that of the natives of the Little Andaman. On the other hand +when the language of the Little Andaman is compared with the Great +Andaman languages there is a very striking difference. Of a vocabulary +of several hundred words collected in the Little Andaman there were +less than a dozen in which the root or stem was clearly the same as +that of words in the Great Andaman. While the grammatical structure of +the languages of the two groups is fundamentally the same, this can +only be shown in a somewhat detailed analysis, and there are many +important differences. + +With regard to technical culture the same grouping appears. There is a +general similarity between all the tribes of the Great Andaman Group, +while the J̌a̤rawa and the inhabitants of the Little Andaman have a +technical culture of their own that is markedly different from that of +the other division. + +The natives of the Great Andaman Group are divided into tribes, of +which there are ten, each with its own distinctive language or dialect, +and with a name. The following is a list of these tribes, passing from +north to south:—Aka-Čari, Aka-Ko̱ra, Aka-Bo, Aka-J̌eru, Aka-Kede, +Aka-Ko̱l, O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i, A-Pučikwar, Akar-Bale, and Aka-Bea. In each case +the name is given in the form in which it is used by the tribe itself. +Thus the Aka-Bea speak of the A-Pučikwar as Aka-Boǰig-yab, and refer to +the Akar-Bale as Aka-Bala-wa, and there are similar variants of other +tribal names. + +The natives of the Little Andaman refer to themselves as Önge (men). It +is probable that the so-called J̌a̤rawa of the South Andaman have the +same word. In a vocabulary obtained by Colebrooke in 1790 from a J̌a̤rawa +near Port Blair, the word Mincopie is given as meaning a native of the +Andaman Islands. This would seem to be simply the same phrase as the +Little Andaman M’önge-bi = I am Önge, or I am a “man.” The word J̌a̤rawa +is apparently derived from the Aka-Bea language, but is now used by all +the friendly natives (i.e. the natives of the Great Andaman Group) to +denote those of the Little Andaman Group. In the official publications +dealing with the Andamans, however, the term J̌a̤rawa has come to be +applied solely to the hostile natives of the Great Andaman. It is in +this sense that the word is used in the present work, the name Önge +being reserved for the natives of the Little Andaman. It must be +remembered, however, that the so-called J̌a̤rawa probably call themselves +Önge, while the Önge of the Little Andaman are called J̌a̤rawa by the +natives of the friendly tribes of the Great Andaman. The name Mincopie +was at one time common in ethnological literature as a term for the +Andaman Islanders. + +It is convenient to divide the tribes of the Great Andaman Group into +two subdivisions, to be spoken of as the Northern Group (including the +first four tribes mentioned above) and the Southern Group (including +the other six tribes). Between these two divisions there are a number +of differences of culture. They have, for example, different forms of +bow, and different kinds of baskets. The differences between them are +much slighter than those between the Great Andaman tribes and the +natives of the Little Andaman, but they are of sufficient importance to +make it necessary to distinguish them from one another. + +The different divisions of the Andamanese may for convenience be set +out in the form of a table. + + + I. Great Andaman Group. + + A. Northern Group, including the tribes:— + + Aka-Čari, + Aka-Ko̱ra, + Aka-Bo, + Aka-J̌eru. + + B. Southern Group, including the tribes:— + + Aka-Kede, + Aka-Ko̱l, + O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i, + A-Pučikwar, + Akar-Bale, + Aka-Bea. + + II. Little Andaman Group. + + A. The inhabitants of the Little Andaman (Önge). + B. The J̌a̤rawa of the South Andaman. + C. The inhabitants of the North Sentinel Island. + + +The distribution of these different groups as it was in 1858 is shown +on the map. + +There is one important feature of this distribution that requires a few +words of explanation, and that is the presence in the South Andaman of +the J̌a̤rawa who are allied by language and technical culture to the +natives of the Little Andaman. There can be no doubt that the J̌a̤rawa +are the descendants of emigrants who at some time in the past made +their way across from the Little Andaman and thrust themselves in upon +the inhabitants of Rutland Island and the South Andaman, maintaining +their footing in the new country by force of arms. + +The identity of the flora and fauna of the Little Andaman with those of +the Great Andaman and the shallowness of the strait between the +islands, suggests that at no very remote period they have been united +by a continuous land connection. Whether or not this connection existed +at the time when the islands were first peopled, it is at any rate +reasonable to suppose that the original ancestors of the present +Andamanese had one language and one culture. Once the Little Andaman +was peopled, the strait between it and the Great Andaman seems to have +acted as an effective barrier, to keep the two divisions of the race +apart for many centuries. During the period of this separation each +division followed its own line of development, with the result that +there arose the considerable differences of language and culture that +now exist. + +At a much later date than this separation of the Andamanese into two +isolated groups, and after the typical differences of language and +culture had been developed, a party of natives must have made their way +by canoe from the north of the Little Andaman to Rutland Island. They +would have found that country occupied by natives of the Great Andaman +Group. In spite of this they succeeded in establishing themselves in +the South Andaman, and became the progenitors of the present J̌a̤rawa. +Owing to the difference of language all communication between the +Little Andaman invaders and those already occupying the invaded country +would be impossible. (At the present day a native of the Little Andaman +cannot make himself understood to a native of one of the Great Andaman +tribes.) The result has been that the J̌a̤rawa have lived in a state of +constant warfare with their neighbours, and this hostility has lasted +down to the present day. + +It is only on the above hypothesis that it is possible to explain how +it comes about that we find in the South Andaman people with language +and technical culture very similar to that of the Little Andaman, and +differing from that of the remaining inhabitants of the Great Andaman. +It is impossible to say how long it is since this invasion from the +Little Andaman took place. At the end of the eighteenth century the +J̌a̤rawa were to be found in the neighbourhood of Port Blair. Lieutenant +Colebrooke in 1790 came across an individual of this tribe and obtained +from him a vocabulary. A comparison of this vocabulary with the +language of the Little Andaman shows it to be essentially the same +language [13]. + +A few words must be said on the position of the natives of the North +Sentinel Island. Almost nothing is known of these people. What little +information is available concerning their weapons and implements seems +to point to their belonging to the Little Andaman Division. There is no +communication between them and either the Great Andaman or the Little +Andaman. It is possible that they have been separated from the other +Andamanese as long as those of the Little Andaman have been separated +from those of the Great Andaman, and would therefore constitute a third +separate division. The South Sentinel Island is uninhabited. + +The total area of the Andamans is estimated to be about 2500 square +miles. This area is divided as follows:— + + + Sq. miles. + North Andaman, being the territory of the four tribes 540 + Aka-Cari, Aka-Kora, Aka-Bo, and Aka-Jeru + Middle Andaman and Baratang, occupied by four tribes, 790 + Aka-Kede, Aka-Kol, Oko-Juwoi and A-Pucikwar + The Archipelago, occupied by the Akar-Bale tribe 140 + The South Andaman, occupied by the Aka-Bea and the Jarawa 630 + North Sentinel Island 30 + Little Andaman 370 + ---- + 2500 + + +It is not possible to give accurately the area occupied by each tribe, +as the boundaries are difficult to discover. The Aka-Bea is in an +exceptional position, as there was no definite boundary between them +and the J̌a̤rawa. The two parties of natives lived in the same territory +at enmity with each other. It would seem that the Aka-Bea kept on the +whole more to the coast, while the J̌a̤rawa lived in the interior. + +Leaving aside the Aka-Bea, the largest of the Great Andaman tribes, as +regards area of territory, was the Aka-Kede, which possessed over 300 +square miles. After this tribe in order of size come the A-Pučikwar, +Aka-J̌eru and Aka-Ko̱ra tribes, while the smaller ones are the O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i, +Aka-Ko̱l, Aka-Bo, Akar-Bale and Aka-Čari, the last being perhaps the +smallest of all. + +In 1901 an enumeration of the natives of the Great Andaman was +attempted in connection with the census of India. Such an enumeration +was of course very difficult, and liable to considerable error. The +results are given in the following table:— + + + Name of Tribe Adults Children Total + Males Females Males Females + Aka-Cari 16 15 6 2 39 + Aka-Kora 31 32 14 19 96 + Aka-Bo 15 16 7 10 48 + Aka-Jeru 98 80 26 14 218 + Aka-Kede 24 30 3 2 59 + Aka-Kol 6 2 3 11 + Oko-Juwoi 21 19 7 1 48 + A-Pucikwar 31 14 2 3 50 + Akar-Bale 5 10 3 1 19 + Aka-Bea 14 16 3 4 37 + --- --- -- -- --- + Total 261 234 74 56 625 + + +These figures are likely to be more accurate for the southern tribes +(the last five on the list) than for the northern tribes. It is +probable that, in the North Andaman, some of the persons enumerated +were entered under the wrong tribe. For many years the officers of the +Andamans did not know of the existence of the Aka-Ko̱ra and Aka-Bo +tribes, and members of these tribes have fallen into the habit of +describing themselves to Europeans as either Aka-J̌eru or Aka-Čari. My +own opinion is that the numbers given for the Aka-J̌eru tribe are too +large, while those of the Aka-Ko̱ra and Aka-Bo, and perhaps also the +Aka-Kede, are too small. + +For the census of 1901 an attempt was made to estimate the numbers of +the J̌a̤rawa and the natives of the Little Andaman, any attempt at +enumeration being impossible. The estimate given was as follows:— + + + Little Andaman 672 + South Andaman Jarawa 117 + Rutland Island Jarawa 351 + North Sentinel Island 117 + ---- + Total 1257 + + +This estimate is not of any great value. As regards the Little Andaman, +my own information would lead me to estimate their numbers at between +600 and 700, thus agreeing with the estimate above. Concerning the +North Sentinel Island nothing is known on which a satisfactory estimate +could be based. The figures for the Rutland Island J̌a̤rawa are certainly +very much too high. In 1907 I spent some weeks on Rutland Island trying +to get into touch with the J̌a̤rawa there. At that time there were +certainly not more than 50 all told on the island. I was only able to +discover one camp, and that had been deserted just before it was +discovered, but had not contained a dozen persons. The Rutland Island +J̌a̤rawa have been cut off from the other J̌a̤rawa by the spread of the +convict Settlement since about 1885. The majority of the J̌a̤rawa now +inhabit the interior and western coast of the South Andaman north of +Port Blair. + +During the last fifty years the numbers of the Andamanese have been +greatly diminished. This has been the result of the European occupation +of the islands, and is chiefly due to new diseases that have been +introduced amongst them. Syphilis was introduced among the tribes of +the South Andaman about 1870, and this has now spread among all the +Great Andaman tribes (that is, excluding the hostile J̌a̤rawa). A large +number of natives are infected, and the disease is responsible directly +and indirectly for a considerable increase in the death-rate. In March, +1877, an epidemic of measles broke out among the Andamanese, introduced +with a batch of convicts from Madras, and spread rapidly from one end +of the Great Andaman to the other. In six weeks 51 out of 184 cases +treated in hospital proved fatal. It is almost certain that the +proportion of deaths was much greater in the case of those, the vast +majority, to whom no medical aid could be given. A writer on the +Andamans [14] has estimated that the mortality from measles and its +sequelae was one-half if not two-thirds of the whole population of the +Great Andaman. Other diseases which were formerly unknown to the +islands seem also to have been introduced, including influenza. + +While the death-rate amongst the friendly Andamanese has been +enormously increased, the birth-rate has at the same time fallen to +almost nothing. This is evident from the proportion of adults to +children in the population table given above. In 1907, out of a total +of about 500 natives whom I saw at different times, there were not more +than a dozen children of less than five years old. A birth is a rare +occurrence, and of the children born very few survive infancy. + +This decrease of population has not as yet affected the Little Andaman. +The natives of this island have had very little contact with the Penal +Settlement or with the tribes of the Great Andaman, and have thus +escaped the diseases which are mainly responsible for the depopulation +of the larger island. + +Several attempts have been made to estimate the former population of +the Andamans. In the “Census Report” for 1901 the estimate given is +4800 for the whole group. Mr M. V. Portman has given an estimate of +8000. It seemed to me that one of these is too small and the other too +large. Judging from what it is possible to learn about the habits of +the natives, and the food supply available, I should estimate that the +former population of the islands (in 1858) was about 5500 [15]. An +estimate for the proportion of the different groups is as follows:— + + + Estimated former Density per + population. square mile. + + North Andaman (four tribes) 1500 2·75 + Middle Andaman with Baratang 2250 2·5 + and Ritchie’s Archipelago + South Andaman (Aka-Bea and Jarawa) 1200 2·0 + Little Andaman and North Sentinel 700 1·75 + ---- ---- + Total 5650 2·25 + + +With regard to the comparative density per square mile of the different +groups it may be pointed out that the reason for the smaller density of +the South Andaman is the fact that the Aka-Bea and J̌a̤rawa were living +there at war with one another, and the territory was therefore probably +not so fully occupied as in other parts of the islands where boundaries +between neighbouring tribes were well defined. The food supply of the +Little Andaman does not seem to be so abundant as that of the Great +Andaman in proportion to its area. It must be remembered that length of +coast-line is of more importance to the Andamanese than the actual area +of their country. The natives of the Little Andaman are not able to +harpoon turtle and large fish, which constitute an important element of +the food supply of the tribes of the Great Andaman. + +If the figures of the above estimate be correct, it will be seen that +the population of the North Andaman has been reduced in less than fifty +years (1858–1901) to about 27 per cent. of its former volume, while in +the same period the population of the Middle Andaman and South Andaman +has been reduced to about 18 per cent. As the tribes in the south were +the first to come into contact with the Settlement, their numbers have +diminished more rapidly than those of the northern tribes. It is +probable that in another fifty years the natives of the Great Andaman +tribes will be extinct. + +The diminution of population has combined with other causes to alter +considerably the mode of life of the islanders. What were formerly +distinct and often hostile communities are now merged together. The +different languages have become corrupt, and some tribes have adopted +customs of other tribes and have abandoned their own. Most of the +younger men and women of the friendly tribes of the Great Andaman now +speak a little Hindustani (Urdu) in a somewhat corrupt form. The +friendly natives are under the charge of an officer of the Settlement, +known as the Officer in Charge of the Andamanese. A Home and Hospital +are provided for them in Port Blair, and natives from all parts, even +from the extreme north, go there either to be treated in the Hospital +or to stay at the Home. During certain parts of the year some of the +natives are employed in collecting trepang (bêche de mer) under the +direction of petty officers, who are natives of India or Burma. The +trepang, together with wild honey and shells collected by the +Andamanese, is sold, and the money is devoted to the service of the +Andamanese Department. There is also a grant of money from the +Government of India, in return for which the Officer in Charge must, +when necessary, provide Andamanese to track and capture any convicts +who may run away from the Penal Settlement. The funds thus made +available serve to provide the natives with blankets, cloth, iron tools +and scrap iron, rice, sugar, tea and tobacco. The result of this system +is that there is a free circulation of natives in all parts of the +Great Andaman. Whereas, formerly, the natives kept carefully to their +own part of the country, they now make long journeys, either in their +own canoes, or in Government launches, and members of the northern +tribes are to be found at Port Blair and elsewhere in the south, while +men and women of the southern tribes are to be found engaged in +collecting trepang in the north. + +The natives of the Little Andaman have as yet scarcely been affected by +these changes. Within recent years, however, some of the natives of the +northern part of the Little Andaman have been in the habit of making +periodical visits to Rutland Island in their canoes, and occasionally +come as far as Port Blair. Their chief reason for visiting the +Settlement is to obtain iron for their arrows and adzes, but they have +also begun to appreciate sugar and tobacco. + +The manners and customs of the Andaman Islanders have formed the +subject of a number of writings. By far the most important of these is +a work by Mr E. H. Man, who was for some years an officer of the Penal +Settlement of Port Blair, and for four years of that time was in charge +of the Andamanese Home. Mr Man made a special study of the language of +the Aka-Bea tribe and compiled an extensive vocabulary, which, however, +has never been published. His observations on the manners and customs +of this tribe and others of the South Andaman were published in the +Journal of the Anthropological Institute of the year 1882 (Volume XII), +and were reprinted in the form of a book On the Aboriginal Inhabitants +of the Andaman Islands. As the reprint is difficult to obtain, the +references to Mr Man’s work in the chapters that follow are all to the +pages of the Journal of the Anthropological Institute, Volume XII. + +Another writer on the Andamanese is Mr M. V. Portman, who was for some +years an officer of the Andaman Commission, and was for a long time in +charge of the Andamanese. His Manual of the Andamanese Languages, +London, 1887, is full of errors and entirely unreliable. A later work, +entitled Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes, +Calcutta, 1898, is of much greater value, and though not entirely free +from errors, is on the whole useful and accurate. Mr Portman has also +compiled A History of Our Relations with the Andamanese (2 volumes, +Calcutta, 1899), which contains a mass of information on the subject +with which it deals, but does not add very much to our knowledge of the +Andamanese themselves. The British Museum possesses an excellent +collection of photographs of the Andamanese taken by Mr Portman. + +A good general description of the islands and of their inhabitants by +Colonel Sir Richard Temple, who was for many years Chief Commissioner +of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, is contained in Volume III of the +Census of India, 1901, here referred to as “Census Report” 1901. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE SOCIAL ORGANISATION + + +In the present chapter we are to deal with the customs and institutions +by which the natives of the Great Andaman regulate the conduct of +persons one to another. At the outset it is necessary to get as clear +an idea as possible of the structure of the Andamanese society. That +structure, as will be shown, is extremely simple. + +What is really of interest to the ethnologist is the social +organisation of these tribes as it existed before the European +occupation of the islands. The changes that have taken place in recent +years have been extensive, the most important being the great +diminution in numbers and the merging together of what were formerly +distinct and often hostile communities. It is fairly easy, however, to +discover from the natives themselves what was the constitution of the +society in former times, though there remain a few points about which +no satisfactory information can be obtained. + +When the islands were first occupied by the British, before +depopulation had affected their institutions, the natives of the Great +Andaman were to be found living in small communities scattered over the +islands, mostly on the coast, but some of them in the forest of the +interior of the island. Each such community, which will be spoken of as +a “local group,” was independent and autonomous, leading its own life +and regulating its own affairs. Each group had occasional relations +with other neighbouring groups; visitors might pass from one to +another; or the two groups might meet together for a few days and join +in feasting and dancing. On the other hand there were often quarrels +between neighbouring groups, which might result in a state of feud +between them for many months. Between communities separated from one +another by a distance of only 50 miles or even less there were no +direct relations whatever. The members of one community kept to their +own part of the country, only leaving it to visit their friends within +a narrow radius. + +These local groups were united into what are here called tribes. A +tribe consisted of a number of local groups all speaking what the +natives themselves regard as one language, each tribe having its own +language and its name. The tribe was of very little importance in +regulating the social life, and was merely a loose aggregate of +independent local groups. + +The local groups are further distinguished by the natives themselves as +being of two kinds according as they lived on the coast or inland. This +division was independent of that into tribes. Some tribes consisted of +coast-dwellers only, while others included both coast-dwellers and +forest-dwellers. + +Within the local group the only division was that into families. A +family consists of a man and his wife and their unmarried children own +or adopted. + +These were the only social divisions existing among the Andamanese, who +were without any of those divisions known as “clans” which are +characteristic of many primitive societies. + +The natives of the Great Andaman (leaving aside the J̌a̤rawa, who by +language and culture belong to the Little Andaman division of the race) +are divided into ten tribes, each occupying a certain area of country. +Each tribe consists of a number of persons who speak what is regarded +by the natives themselves as one language. That the tribe is +fundamentally a linguistic group is shown by the tribal names. These +are all formed from a stem with the prefix aka-, which prefix is used +in the languages of the Great Andaman to convey a reference to the +mouth and thereby to the function of speech. Thus in the Aka-J̌eru +language the stem poŋ means “a hole of any kind,” and aka-poŋ means +“the mouth,” there being no other word for that part of the body. In +the same language the stem -ar- meaning “to talk” can only be used with +the prefix aka-, as ak’-ar-ka, “he says.” The prefix which is +characteristic of the tribal names, indicates, therefore, that these +are really the names of languages. + +The meanings or derivations of some of the tribal names have not been +ascertained with certainty. The name Aka-Čari is derived from the word +čari meaning “salt water,” and therefore means “the salt-water +language.” Similarly the name Aka-J̌eru is derived from ǰeru, a species +of Sterculia from which canoes are made. In the Northern languages the +word ot-bo means “the back” of anything, and oŋ-ko̱ra means “the hand.” +It is possible that the names Aka-Bo and Aka-Ko̱ra are derived from +these stems (the ot- and the oŋ- being prefixes), but there is no +evidence that they are associated with them in the minds of the natives +of the present day. Among the Southern tribes the name Akar-Bale is +derived from a word meaning “the other side” of a creek or strait, thus +referring to their position in the Archipelago. The name A-Pučik-war +(of which the Aka-Bea equivalent is Aka-Boǰig-yab) means “those who +speak our own language,” from a stem pučik (Aka-Bea, boǰig) which means +“belonging to ourselves” as opposed to strangers of the same race. Mr +Portman [16] gives the following meanings of the other tribal names of +the South and Middle Andaman, but the derivations are somewhat +doubtful. + + + Aka-Bea Fresh water. + O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i They cut patterns on their bows. + Aka-Ko̱l Bitter or salt taste. + + +I may take this opportunity of pointing out two errors in the names of +the tribes given in the “Census Report” of 1901. The name Aka-Čari is +given as Aka-Chariar; the stem -ar- means “to talk” and is not an +essential part of the tribal name; Aka-Čari-ar-bom means “he talks the +Čari language.” The name Aka-Bo is given as Aka-Tabo; t’a-Bo means “I +(am) Aka-Bo,” just as t’a-J̌eru means “I (am) Aka-J̌eru,” the prefix aka- +being contracted to a- after the personal pronoun t’ = I or my. + +Although the natives themselves thus recognize and give names to ten +distinct languages, all of them are closely related. There is, on the +whole, not a great deal of difference between two neighbouring +languages. A man of the Aka-J̌eru tribe could understand without any +great difficulty a man speaking Aka-Bo. On the other hand many of the +languages included two or even more distinct dialects. In the Akar-Bale +tribe there were two dialects, one in the southern half of the +Archipelago, which was allied to Aka-Bea, and the other in the northern +half, showing affinities with A-Pučikwar. Even in such a small tribe as +the Aka-Čari it would seem that there were differences of dialect. +Thus, even from the point of view of language, the tribe was not +entirely homogeneous. + +Leaving aside the Aka-Bea, the average extent of territory occupied by +a tribe was about 165 square miles. Of the nine tribes the largest, as +regards area, was the Aka-Kede, with over 300 square miles, while the +smallest was probably the Aka-Čari, with less than 100 square miles. +Save in the case of the Akar-Bale tribe, which occupied the islands of +Ritchie’s Archipelago, it is difficult to find any marked geographical +features that might be supposed to have determined the extent and the +boundaries of the different tribes. + +The Aka-Bea tribe was in an abnormal position as there was no +recognized boundary between them and the J̌a̤rawa. Together, these two +divisions of the Andamanese occupied an area of about 600 square miles. +The Aka-Bea seem to have kept more to the coast while the J̌a̤rawa +occupied the interior of the South Andaman and Rutland Island. + +If the estimate previously given [17] of the former population of the +islands be correct, the nine tribes (leaving aside the Aka-Bea) would +have formerly contained about 3750 persons of all ages. At the present +time the four tribes of the North Andaman number altogether about 400, +of whom about 100 or less are children. The other six tribes taken +together (including the almost extinct Aka-Bea) number about 200, of +whom not more than 30 are children. Mr Man estimated the numbers of the +Aka-Bea tribe (called by him Boǰig-ŋiǰi-da) in 1882 at about 400, and +supposes them to have numbered about 1000 in 1858. In 1901 that tribe +consisted of only 37 persons. + +Besides the division into tribes, and independent of it, the Andamanese +recognize another division into coast-dwellers and forest-dwellers. In +the Aka-Bea language the coast-dwellers are called Ar-yoto, while the +forest-dwellers are called Erem-taga. The difference between them is +due solely to the difference of their food supply. The Ar-yoto obtain +much of their food from the sea. They are expert in fishing and turtle +hunting. They make canoes and use them not only for hunting but also +for travelling from one camp to another. Some portion of their food +they also obtain from the forest, edible roots and fruits and the flesh +of the wild pig being the chief. On the other hand the Erem-taga rely +solely on the forest and the inland creeks for their food supply. Their +only use for canoes is in the creeks. They are entirely ignorant of +such matters as turtle or dugong hunting, but they are more at home +than the coast-dwellers in the forest, and are generally more skilful +at pig-hunting. The advantage certainly rests with the coast-dwellers, +for they have both the sea and the forest to draw upon for their +sustenance. + +Some tribes consist only of coast-dwellers, such as the Aka-Čari, the +Akar-Bale and perhaps the Aka-Ko̱l. On the other hand the Aka-Bo, +although their territory includes a part of the west coast, are, by +their occupations and mode of life, forest-dwellers, and the same seems +to have been the case of the O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i. The A-Pučikwar, the Aka-Kede, +the Aka-J̌eru and perhaps also the Aka-Ko̱ra tribes contained both +coast-dwellers and forest-dwellers. + +Each tribe formerly consisted of a number of independent local groups. +The local group, and not the tribe, was the land-owning group, each one +owning or exercising hunting rights over a certain recognized area. At +the present time, owing to the breakdown of the local organisation, +through the settlement of the islands and the resulting decrease of +population, it is difficult to ascertain what area of country was +occupied by each of these local groups. In many cases it would seem +that the boundaries between two neighbouring groups are not very +clearly defined, there being portions of forest over which the members +of both hunted when the groups were at peace [18]. There is no doubt +that in the more favourable localities, particularly on the coast, the +country occupied by a single group was smaller than in places of less +abundant food supply. It is probable that the forest-dwelling local +groups occupied considerably larger areas in each case than the coast +groups. Some of the coast-dwelling groups seem to have occupied areas +of less than ten square miles. + +It is not easy to discover at this time exactly what number of persons +would have been included in one local group. Mouat, who visited the +islands in 1857–8, says of the natives, “They are rarely or never seen +living alone, several of their little huts being raised in the same +locality, where they dwell together in numbers varying between thirty +and three hundred [19].” In another passage he states, “They are +generally divided into small groups, the numbers of which vary +considerably, some not containing more than ten individuals, while in +others as many as two or three hundred may be found. The great majority +of these groups of the natives consist on an average of from thirty to +fifty men, women, and children, although sometimes as many as three +hundred are found together [20].” It is probable that, if so small a +party as ten were seen, they were a hunting party spending a day or a +few days away from the main camp. On the other hand so large a number +as three hundred could only be found together on the occasion of one of +the periodical meetings of several local groups for purposes of +festivity. Mouat’s statement that the groups consisted on the average +of from thirty to fifty persons, agrees very well with the statements +of the natives themselves, and may be taken as being fairly accurate. +Mr Man, writing in 1882, speaks of the Andamanese as divided into +communities “each consisting of from twenty to fifty individuals,” and +elsewhere says that “permanent encampments vary in size and consist of +several huts, which in all are rarely inhabited by more than from fifty +to eighty persons [21].” + +From the information that I was able to obtain from the natives +themselves I came to the conclusion that an average local group +consisted of from 40 to 50 persons of all ages, the average number of +local groups to a tribe being about 10. This would give the average +extent of country occupied by each local group as about 16 square +miles, but some groups certainly had a larger territory than this and +some had smaller. + +Mr M. V. Portman speaks of the tribes of the southern part of the Great +Andaman as being divided into what he calls “septs,” but he does not +explain what he means by that term. He states that the Aka-Bea were +divided into seven septs, the A-Pučikwar into four, the Akar-Bale into +two, while the Aka-Ko̱l and O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i had no real subdivisions [22]. +Whatever Mr Portman may have meant by the term sept, it is clear that +he did not use it to denote what is here called a local group, but some +larger subdivision of the tribe. What these septs seem to have been are +groups consisting each of four or five local groups having friendly +relations with one another and meeting together occasionally at the +festival gatherings to be described later in the present chapter. + +There were, strictly speaking, no distinctive names for the local +groups. A local group might be denoted by a reference to the district +that it occupied or to one of its chief camping places. Thus, in the +Akar-Bale tribe, those occupying the island of Teb-ǰuru were spoken of +as Teb-ǰuru-wa, the word wa meaning “people,” and the inhabitants of +the east coast of Havelock Island were similarly denoted as +Puluga-l’ar-mugu-wa from the name of the district that they occupied. +In the tribes of the North Andaman the word equivalent to wa of the +South is koloko. Some of the local groups of the Aka-Bo tribe were +distinguished as Teraut buliu koloko, Kelera buliu koloko, Teradikili +buliu koloko etc., from the names of the creeks (buliu) that they +occupied. In the Aka-Čari tribe the local group occupying the island of +To̱nmuket and the adjoining mainland were called Taroto̱lo koloko. When a +man was asked to what part of the country he belonged he would +generally answer by mentioning one of the chief camping places of his +local group. Thus a man of the Taroto̱lo koloko might say that he +belonged to Laropuli, this being one of the chief camps of that +country. A man of the Teraut buliu koloko might similarly say that he +belonged to the village of Čaičue. + +A man or woman is generally regarded as belonging to the local group in +the country of which he or she was born. There is nothing, however, to +prevent a person from taking up his residence with any other local +group if he so wishes, and if the members of that group are willing to +welcome him. It would seem that there were a fair number of such cases +in which a man or a woman left his or her own local group to join +another. In particular, when two young people belonging to different +groups got married they might fix their residence either with his or +with her parents. + +The local group, as stated above, was characterised as the land-owning +group. A man might hunt over the country of his own group at all times, +but he might not hunt over the country of another group without the +permission of the members of that group. Even at the present day, when +the local organisation has largely broken down, some of these hunting +rights are still observed. I noticed a case in which some of the men +asked and obtained permission to hunt pig in a certain part from a man +who was explained to be the owner of that part of the country, being +one of the few survivors of the local group to which it belonged. It +would, in former times, have been an offence that might easily have led +to a serious quarrel for the men of one group to hunt or fish in the +country or the waters of another group without having been granted +permission to do so. + +Within the territory of each local group there are a number of +recognized camping places. During the greater part of every year the +members of the local group would be found living together at one or +other of these. Some of these camping-grounds have been in use for many +centuries, as is shown by the heaps of refuse many feet deep, chiefly +consisting of the shells of molluscs and the bones of animals. Such +kitchen-middens, as they have been called, are to be found in numbers +all around the coasts of the islands. + +In the case of the coast-dwelling communities the camping sites are +always close to the sea-shore or to a creek, so that they can be +reached by canoe. In the case of those dwelling inland this is of +course not so. In any case one of the chief factors determining the +choice of the site is the existence of a supply of fresh water. This is +of extreme importance in the case of a site to be occupied during the +dry season when fresh water becomes scarce. + +Within their own territory the local group is what we may speak of as +semi-nomadic. The coast-dwellers rarely reside continuously at the same +spot for more than a few months, but shift from one camp to another, +moved by different causes. If a death occurs the camp is deserted for +several months and a new one is occupied. A change of camp often takes +place at a change of season, some spots presenting particular +advantages, such as shelter from the prevailing wind, or better hunting +or fishing, at certain times of the year. Another cause of the +abandonment of a camp by the coast-dwellers is that all refuse is +thrown away close to the camp, and after a few months the decaying +animal matter thus accumulated renders the spot uninhabitable. The +natives seem to find it easier to move their camp than to clear away +their refuse. The truth is, perhaps, that they are so accustomed to +change their camp from one spot to another, in order to make the best +use of the natural resources available, that there is no necessity for +them to take those sanitary measures that would be essential if they +wished to remain for many months continuously at the same place. + +The forest-dwellers are less nomadic in their habits than the +coast-dwellers. One of the reasons for this is that as they cannot +convey their belongings from one place to another by canoe, but must +carry them overland, the moving of a camp is a more tiresome business +with them than it is with the coast-dwellers. During a great part of +the year the forest-dwellers were accustomed to remain at one camp, +which was thus the chief camp of the group. In particular they would +spend there the whole of the rainy season. During the cool and hot +seasons they would leave the chief camp for a few months, leading +during that time a more nomadic life, living in temporary hunting camps +and paying visits to their friends in other groups. At the opening of +the rainy season they would return once more to the main camp. + +The camps of the natives of the Great Andaman may be distinguished as +being of three kinds. Of the first kind are what may be spoken of as +permanent encampments. Certainly every group of the forest-dwellers, +and probably every group of the coast-dwellers had its permanent +encampment, which was, so to speak, the headquarters of the group. At +this spot there would be erected either a communal hut, or a carefully +built village. Communal huts have in recent times fallen into disuse, +as the natives now wander about the islands much more freely than was +their wont. I did not see a single one in the Great Andaman during my +visit, though I was told of one that was falling to ruins in the +interior of the Middle Andaman. One such communal hut was photographed +in 1895 by M. L. Lapicque, at a spot called Lekera-l’un-ta [23]. It was +perhaps the last that the natives of the Great Andaman erected. What +the communal hut was like it is possible to discover both from the +statements of the natives and also from the fact that they are still to +the present day used by the natives of the Little Andaman and by the +J̌a̤rawa. The hut was roughly circular in form and might be as big as 60 +feet in diameter and 20 or 30 feet high at the centre. The shape was +somewhat that of a beehive. Two concentric circles, one of tall posts +near the centre and the other of shorter posts near the circumference, +were connected by horizontal and sloping roof-timbers, and on these +were laid and fastened a number of mats of palm-leaves. These mats +reached, as a rule, as far as the ground, a small doorway being left on +one side. + +Such communal huts, while still used in the Little Andaman and by the +J̌a̤rawa, and formerly used by the forest-dwellers of the Great Andaman, +were apparently not often erected by the coast-dwellers of the larger +island at the time the islands were occupied in 1858. Mr Man seems to +have regarded them as being peculiarly characteristic of the J̌a̤rawa and +the natives of the Little Andaman [24]. There is evidence, however, +that even the coast-dwellers formerly erected such huts, for in the +Akar-Bale tribe there are several places with names such as Paruŋ Bud +and Golugma Bud, which show that communal huts existed there at some +time. The word bud is used to denote a communal hut, as compared with a +village, which is called baraiǰ. + +A large communal hut took some little time to erect. The posts had to +be cut and erected, this being the work of the men, and the palm-leaves +had to be collected and then made into mats by the women. Once the hut +was built it would last for several years, and if it were in fairly +constant use, particularly if it were not abandoned in the rains, it +might be used, with a little occasional patching, for ten years or even +more. + +Among the coast-dwellers it was more usual to erect at the headquarters +a semi-permanent village. A portion of such a village is shown in the +photographs reproduced in Plates VI and VII. + +The village occupied a small clearing in the forest close to the +sea-shore at a place called Mo̱i-lepto in the country of the Akar-Bale +tribe. A spring or soak close to the village provided the fresh water. +The site is a favourite one as it is well sheltered, and is within +convenient distance of good fishing and turtle hunting grounds. It was +formerly one of the chief camping places of the local group known as +the Boroin wa (Hill people). + +The village was composed of eight huts, ranged round a central open +space, and all of them facing inwards towards the centre. This open +space is kept clear and clean for dancing, and is simply the village +dancing ground. Each of the single huts was occupied by a family group, +consisting of a man and his wife with their children and dependants. +One hut was occupied by an old widower and a bachelor. + +The way the huts are built can be seen in the photographs. In the +simplest form the hut consists of a sloping roof made of palm-leaves, +erected on four posts, two taller ones at the front and two short ones +at the back. A hut of this kind is shown in Plate VII. If more shelter +is required a second roof is added in such a way that the top of one +overhangs the top of the other. In some cases a third roof may be added +on one side. In Plates VI and VII two mats of palm-leaf are shown in +the course of construction, lying on the ground. + +Huts such as these, in which the leaves are first made into a mat which +is then attached to the rafters, will last for some time. Even if the +village be deserted for several weeks, at any rate in the dry weather, +very little work will be needed to make it habitable again when the +occupants return to it. + +A second kind of camp was made when the natives did not intend to stay +more than two to three months. Such camps were erected by the forest +folk during the dry season, or at any time when they were compelled to +leave their chief camp through the death there of one of their number. +Such a temporary camp is always put up in the form of a village, and +never as a communal hut. The huts are similar to those already +described, but are made more carelessly. The thatching leaves, instead +of being made into mats, are simply tied in bundles on to the rafters. +A hut of this kind will last quite well for three months or so and it +can be built very rapidly at any place where there is a sufficient +supply of thatching leaves. At the present day the natives rarely build +a permanent camp for themselves, but are contented with temporary camps +of the kind here described. + +A third kind of camp remains to be briefly mentioned, which we may call +the hunting camp. A hunting party (which may include women as well as +men) spending a few days away from one of the main camps will erect for +themselves a few huts or shelters consisting of nothing more than a +simple lean-to of leaves. + +Caves or rock shelters suitable for human occupation are almost unknown +in the Andamans. In the Archipelago there are one or two small rock +shelters that are occasionally used by a hunting party away from home +for a night. I was told by the natives that on one of the islands off +the west coast of the North Andaman there is a rock shelter of a fair +size that was formerly used as one of their chief camps. + +The following figure will give an idea of the Andamanese village and +its arrangement. In hunting camps which are intended only to be +occupied for a few days or a few weeks, this arrangement is not +observed, but the huts or shelters are placed so as to give shelter +from the prevailing wind with no particular regard to the respective +position of the different units. + +The constitution of the local group is illustrated by the arrangement +of the village. The whole village consists of a number of separate +huts, each hut occupied by a family. A family consists of a man and his +wife and such of their children own or adopted as are not of an age to +be independent. Besides the families each group necessarily contains a +small number of unmarried men and widowers and some unmarried girls and +widows. The unmarried men and widowers without children occupy a +separate hut (or huts) which we may speak of as the bachelors’ hut. Mr +Man states that the spinsters (i.e., the unmarried women who are of +marriageable age) and widows occupy a hut of their own similarly to the +bachelors [25]. In the camps that I visited I did not find any such +spinsters’ hut. What unmarried females there were, I found attached to +one or other of the families of the village, each one living in the hut +of some married relative, generally the parent or foster-parent. + +All the huts face inwards towards an open space which is the dancing +ground of the village, and, except in exposed situations, are generally +entirely open in front. At some convenient spot on one side of the +dancing ground is to be found the communal cooking place of the +village. This is generally close to the bachelors’ hut, as it is the +bachelors who attend to such cooking as is carried on there. Besides +the public cooking place each family has its own fireplace in its own +hut, on which a fire is kept continually alight. In the village two or +more families may build their huts adjoining one another in such a way +that they become for all practical purposes one hut, of which each +family retains its own special portion. Two brothers will thus often +make a sort of common household. + +The communal hut, in the way in which it is arranged, and even in the +way in which it is built, is really a village with all the huts drawn +together so that each one is joined to the one next to it and the roofs +meet in the middle. In the centre of the hut there is an open space +corresponding to the dancing ground of the village. It is even used as +a dancing ground, though for this purpose it is somewhat small. It is +the public part of the hut. Around this are arranged the different +families, each occupying its own special portion of the hut, which is +marked off by means of short lengths of wood laid on the floor. The +public cooking place is sometimes inside the hut, and there is the +space marked off for the unmarried men. The advantage of the communal +hut is that it affords a better protection from the weather; its +disadvantage is that it leaves almost no room for dancing. + +Thus it may be seen that the arrangement of the camp shows very plainly +the constitution of a local group, consisting as it does of a few +families. Each group seems to have contained, on an average, about ten +families, with a few unmarried males and females. + +The Andaman Islanders depend for their subsistence entirely on the +natural products of the sea and the forest. From the sea they obtain +dugong, turtle (both green and hawksbill), an enormous variety of +different sorts of fish, crustaceans (crabs, crayfish and prawns) and +molluscs. Fish and crabs are also to be found in the salt-water creeks +which in many places penetrate inland for some miles. From the forest +they obtain the flesh of the wild pig, wild honey, and a large number +of vegetable foods—roots, fruits, and seeds. + +The life of the forest folk is more simple and uniform than that of the +coast people and we may therefore consider it first. During the rainy +season, which lasts from the middle of May to the end of September, the +local group lives at its headquarters camp, which, as we have seen, +formerly often took the form of a communal hut. During this season +animal food is plentiful, as the jungle animals are in good condition; +on the other hand there is not much vegetable food to be obtained. The +following brief account will give an idea of how the day is spent in +such a camp at that time of year. Some time after sunrise the camp +begins to be astir. The various members of the community make a meal of +any food that may have been saved from the day before. The men start +off for the day’s hunting. At the present time dogs are used for +pig-hunting. These dogs were obtained in the first instance from the +Settlement of Port Blair, and their use in pig-hunting was learnt from +the Burmese convicts. Nowadays every married man has at least one dog +[26]. Before the dogs were obtained, hunting was a pursuit requiring a +great deal more skill than it does at present. A hunting party consists +of from two to five men. Each man carries his bow and two or three pig +arrows, and one of the party carries a smouldering fire-brand. They +make their way through the jungle until they find the fresh tracks of a +pig, or follow up some of the usual pig runs until they come upon the +animal feeding. In former days much skill was required to creep +noiselessly through the jungle until they were sufficiently near either +to discharge an arrow, or, if the jungle were more open, to rush in +upon the animal shouting and shoot it before it could escape. At the +present day it is the dogs that scent out the pig and bring it to bay, +when the natives shoot it with their arrows. + +When a pig has been killed it may be tied up and carried to the camp on +the shoulders of one of the hunters, or a fire may be lighted then and +there and the pig eviscerated and roasted. A cut is made in the abdomen +and the viscera removed. The cavity is filled with leaves, the joints +of the legs are half severed and the carcase is placed on the fire and +turned over and shifted until every part is evenly roasted. It is then +removed from the fire, the burnt skin is scraped clean and the meat is +cut up. Meanwhile the intestines or some of the internal organs are +cooked and eaten by the hunters. The meat is tied up in leaves and is +carried to the camp. If the pig be carried home whole the process of +roasting it and cutting it up is performed in exactly the same way at +the public cooking place of the camp, the meat being distributed only +after it has been thus partially cooked. + +If the hunting party should come across a civet cat (Paradoxurus) or a +monitor lizard they would endeavour to kill it [27], but the main +object of every hunting party is to obtain pork. Snakes and even rats +are killed and eaten. Birds, though plentiful in the islands, are not +often obtained, for the density of the jungle and the height of the +trees in which the birds conceal themselves, make it very difficult for +the natives to shoot them with their bows and arrows. A man does not +care to risk the loss of his arrow in a chance shot at a bird. The +Andamanese do not trap either birds or animals, though some of the +birds, particularly the rail, might be very easily caught in traps. + +As the hunting party traverses the forest they may come across roots or +fruits or seeds, or wild honey, and these are collected and carried +home. In the rainy season only small combs of black honey are to be +found [28], and these are generally consumed by the hunters on the +spot. + +The provision of the vegetable food of the community is the work of the +women, who must also supply the camp with firewood and water. While the +men are away hunting the women, attended by the children, cut and carry +the firewood, and either remain in the camp making baskets or nets or +other objects, or else go into the forest to look for fruits and seeds. +Thus by midday the camp may be quite deserted, save perhaps for one or +two old men and women, and a few of the children. + +In the afternoon the women return with what food they have obtained and +then the men come in with their provision. The camp, unless the hunters +have been unsuccessful, is then busy with the preparation of the +evening meal, which is the chief meal of the day. If a pig has been +brought home whole it is cooked at the public cooking place and is then +cut up. The meat is distributed amongst the members of the community +and the woman of each family then proceeds to cook the family meal. The +pork, after it has been roasted and cut up, is further cooked by being +boiled. The family meal is prepared at the fire that each family has in +its hut. The meal is a family one, partaken by a man and his wife and +children. The bachelors cook and eat their own meal, and the unmarried +women also eat by themselves. + +After the meal is over, darkness having by this time fallen, the men +may spend an hour or two in dancing to the accompaniment of a song sung +by one of them with the help of a chorus of women. In that case they +would probably eat another meal after the dance was over. Another +favourite amusement for the evening is what may be called “yarning.” A +man sits down with a few listeners and tells them, with few words, and +with many dramatic gestures, how he killed a pig. The same man may go +on with tale after tale, till, by the time he finishes he has killed +twenty or thirty pigs. Finally the whole camp retires to rest and +nothing is to be seen but the dim light of the little fires burning in +each hut or in each of the family quarters. + +On a day when there is plenty of food left from the day before, or on a +day of stormy weather even when food is not too plentiful, the men may +remain in camp instead of going hunting. They busy themselves with +making weapons and implements, such as bows, arrows, adzes, etc. + +On occasions when game is not very plentiful a party of hunters may +stay away from the camp for a few days, not returning till they have +been successful in obtaining a fair supply of food. The women and +children and old men, with perhaps a few of the able bodied men also, +remain at home and provide for themselves as well as they can, the +women devoting their time to collecting what vegetable foods are in +season. + +At the end of the rainy season there comes a brief period of unsettled +weather, called by the natives of the North Andaman Kimil, and by those +of the South, Gumul. During this season some of the vegetable foods +begin to be available, though not in any quantities. At this time of +the year the natives are able to obtain and feast upon what they regard +as great delicacies, the larvae of the cicada and of the great +capricornis beetle. The cool season, when fruits and roots are +plentiful, begins at the end of November. The forest dwellers leave +their main encampment during this season. Some of them go off to pay +visits to their friends of other local groups. Such visits may last two +or three months. Those who remain occupy temporary camps in convenient +places. The men join the women in looking for roots and fruits, and do +not spend so much of their time in hunting. Some of the men visit the +main camp at intervals of a few days to see that it is all right. As +the cool season gives way to the hot season (March to May) honey begins +to be plentiful. At that time hunting for pig is almost abandoned. The +pigs are in poor condition, and even when one is killed it is often +left in the jungle by the natives as not being good enough to eat. On +the other hand everyone is busy collecting honey. This is work in which +both men and women join, though it is the men who climb up the trees +and cut down the honeycomb. The natives have no means of keeping the +honey for more than a very short time, as it rapidly ferments. While it +is plentiful they almost live on it, supplementing it with roots and +fruits and with fish, if they are near a creek. Towards the end of the +hot season the fruit of the Artocarpus chaplasha, which is a favourite +food of the natives, becomes ripe. The men and women, at this time, +spend much of their time collecting the fruit. When it is collected the +fruit is broken open and each of the seeds is sucked to obtain the +juicy pulp or aril with which it is surrounded, and which has a very +pleasant taste. The seeds are then partly boiled and are buried in the +ground to remain there for a few weeks, when they will be dug up again +and cooked and eaten. Any natives who may have been away from home on a +visit, return before the Artocarpus comes into fruit in order to take +their share in collecting it and providing a supply of the seeds for +consumption in the rainy season. The natives then return to the +headquarters camp and make any necessary repairs to the hut in +preparation for the rainy season, which begins about the middle of May. + +The coast-dwellers are not quite so much influenced by the seasons as +the forest-dwellers. They can fish and collect molluscs all the year +round. In the rainy season they divide their time between hunting pig +in the forest and fishing or turtle hunting. They do not need, however, +to remain at the same camp during the whole of the rainy season, but +after a month or two at one place can move to what they hope to find +better hunting grounds. During the cool and hot seasons they pay visits +to one another. In the fine weather the men often go off on +turtle-hunting expeditions for several days, leaving the women and +children and older men in the village, where they provide for +themselves with vegetable food and with fish and molluscs from the +reefs. + +It is during the fine weather that there take place the meetings of two +or more local groups that are an important feature of the social life +of the Andaman Islanders. These meetings will be described later in the +present chapter. + +Besides their food, which they must find from day to day, the natives +have need of nothing save their weapons and implements. Of these each +person makes his own, each man making his own bow, arrows, adze, etc., +while the wife makes her baskets, nets and so on. + +The economic life of the local group, though in effect it approaches to +a sort of communism, is yet based on the notion of private property. +Land is the only thing that is owned in common. The hunting grounds of +a local group belong to the whole group, and all the members have an +equal right to hunt over any part of it. There exists, however, a +certain private ownership of trees. A man of one of the local groups of +the coast may notice in the jungle a tree suitable for a canoe. He will +tell the others that he has noticed such a tree, describing it and its +whereabouts. Thenceforward that tree is regarded as his property, and +even if some years should elapse, and he has made no use of it, yet +another man would not cut it down without first asking the owner to +give him the tree. In a similar way certain men claim to possess +certain Artocarpus trees, though how the ownership in these cases had +arisen I was unable to determine. No one would pick the fruit off such +a tree without the permission of the owner, and having received +permission and gathered the fruit he would give some part of it to the +owner of the tree. + +A pig belongs to the man whose arrow first strikes it, though if the +arrow merely glanced off and did not remain in the wound it would not +give any claim to ownership. A turtle or a dugong or big fish belongs +to the man who throws the harpoon with which it is taken. A honeycomb +belongs to the man who climbs the tree and cuts it down. The fish that +a man shoots belong to him, and to a woman belong the roots she digs +up, the seeds that she collects, the fish or prawns that she takes in +her net or the molluscs that she brings from the reefs. Any weapon that +a man makes belongs to him alone to do what he pleases with, and +anything that a woman makes is her own property. A man is not free to +dispose of the personal property of his wife without her permission. + +In the village each family erects and keeps in repair its own hut, and +the wife provides the hut with the firewood and water needed. In the +case of a communal hut it would seem that this is really an example of +a possession common to the whole group. This is so, however, only in +appearance. The hut is built by all the different families, but each +family is regarded as owning a certain portion of the hut when it is +finished, and it is the family that keeps this part of the hut in +repair. + +A canoe is cut by a number of men together. From the outset, however, +it is the property of one man, who selects the tree and superintends +the operation of cutting it into shape. He is always one of the older +men, and he enlists the services of the younger men to help him. When +finished the canoe is his property, and he can do with it what he +pleases, giving it away, if he wishes, and no one has any share of +ownership in a canoe on the ground that he helped to make it. + +While all portable property is thus owned by individuals, the +Andamanese have customs which result in an approach to communism. One +of these is the custom of constantly exchanging presents with one +another. When two friends meet who have not seen each other for some +time, one of the first things they do is to exchange presents with one +another. Even in the ordinary everyday life of the village there is a +constant giving and receiving of presents. A younger man or woman may +give some article to an older one without expecting or receiving any +return, but between equals a person who gives a present always expects +that he will receive something of equal value in exchange. At the +meetings that take place between neighbouring local groups the exchange +of presents is of great importance. Each of the visitors brings with +him a number of articles that he distributes amongst the members of the +group that he visits. When the visitors depart they are loaded with +presents received from their hosts. It requires a good deal of tact on +the part of everyone concerned to avoid the unpleasantness that may +arise if a man thinks that he has not received things as valuable as he +has given, or if he fancies that he has not received quite the same +amount of attention as has been accorded to others. + +It is considered a breach of good manners ever to refuse the request of +another. Thus if a man be asked by another to give him anything that he +may possess, he will immediately do so. If the two men are equals a +return of about the same value will have to be made. As between an +older married man and a bachelor or a young married man, however, the +younger would not make any request of such a nature, and if the older +man asked the younger for anything the latter would give it without +always expecting a return. + +Almost every object that the Andamanese possess is thus constantly +changing hands. Even canoes may be given away, but it is more usual for +these to be lent by the owner to his friends. + +It has been stated above that all food is private property and belongs +to the man or woman who has obtained it. Every one who has food is +expected, however, to give to those who have none. An older married man +will reserve for himself sufficient for his family, and will then give +the rest to his friends. A younger man is expected to give away the +best of what he gets to the older men. This is particularly the case +with the bachelors. Should a young unmarried man kill a pig he must be +content to see it distributed by one of the older men, all the best +parts going to the seniors, while he and his companions must be +satisfied with the inferior parts. The result of these customs is that +practically all the food obtained is evenly distributed through the +whole camp, the only inequality being that the younger men do not fare +so well as their elders. Generosity is esteemed by the Andaman +Islanders one of the highest of virtues and is unremittingly practised +by the majority of them. + +Within the local group there is no such thing as a division of labour +save as between the two sexes. In the coastal groups every man is +expected to be able to hunt pig, to harpoon turtle and to catch fish, +and also to cut a canoe, to make bows and arrows and all the other +objects that are made by men. It happens that some men are more skilful +in certain pursuits than in others. A skilful turtle-hunter, for +example, may be an indifferent pig-hunter, and such a man will +naturally prefer to devote himself to the pursuit in which he appears +to most advantage. + +The division of labour between the sexes is fairly clearly marked. A +man hunts and fishes, using the bow and arrow and the harpoon; he makes +his own bows and arrows, his adze and knife, cuts canoes and makes rope +for harpoon lines. A woman collects fruits and digs up roots with her +digging stick; she catches prawns and crabs and small fish with her +small fishing net; she provides the firewood and the water of the +family and does the cooking (i.e. the family cooking, but not the +common cooking, which is entirely done by men); she makes all such +objects as baskets, nets of thread, and personal ornaments either for +herself or her husband. + +There is no organised government in an Andamanese village. The affairs +of the community are regulated entirely by the older men and women. The +younger members of the community are brought up to pay respect to their +elders and to submit to them in many ways. It has already been shown +how, in the distribution of food, the elders get the best share. When +it is a question of shifting camp to some better hunting ground the +opinion of the older men would weigh against that of the younger if +they disagreed. It must not be thought, however, that the older men are +tyrannical or selfish. I only once heard a young man complain of the +older men getting so much the best of everything. The respect for +seniority is kept alive partly by tradition and partly by the fact that +the older men have had a greater experience than the younger. It could +probably not be maintained if it regularly gave rise to any tyrannical +treatment of the younger by the elder. + +The respect for seniors is shown in the existence of special terms of +address which men and women use when speaking to their elders. In the +languages of the North Andaman there are two such terms, Mai or Maia, +applied to men, with a meaning equivalent to “Sir,” and Mimi, applied +to women. These words may be used either alone or prefixed to the +personal name of the person addressed. A younger man speaking to an +older one whose name was Bora would address him either as Mai (Sir), or +as Maia Bora (Sir Bora). + +In the tribes of the South Andaman there are exactly similar terms. In +the Aka-Bea tribe Maia or Maiola is used in addressing men and Čana or +Čanola in speaking to women. In Akar-Bale the equivalent terms are Da +and In. Besides these terms there is in these tribes another, Mam, Mama +or Mamola, which may be used in speaking to either men or women, and +which implies a higher degree of respect than Maia or Čana. In these +tribes also there is a special way of showing respect by adding the +suffix -la to the name of the person addressed, as Bia, Biala, Woičo, +Woičo-la, etc. + +In the legends of the Andamanese these titles are nearly always +prefixed to the names of the legendary ancestors, as Maia J̌utpu and +Mimi Biliku in Aka-J̌eru, or Da Duku and In Bain in Akar-Bale. The moon +is similarly spoken of as Sir Moon (Maia Ogar in Aka-Bea) and the sun +as Lady Sun (Čana Bodo). + +Besides the respect for seniority there is another important factor in +the regulation of the social life, namely the respect for certain +personal qualities. These qualities are skill in hunting and in +warfare, generosity and kindness, and freedom from bad temper. A man +possessing them inevitably acquires a position of influence in the +community. His opinion on any subject carries more weight than that of +another even older man. The younger men attach themselves to him, are +anxious to please him by giving him any presents that they can, or by +helping him in such work as cutting a canoe, and to join him in hunting +parties or turtle expeditions. In each local group there was usually to +be found one man who thus by his influence could control and direct +others. Amongst the chief men of several friendly local groups it would +generally happen that one of them, by reason of his personal qualities, +would attain to a position of higher rank than the others. Younger men +would be desirous of joining the local group to which he belonged. He +would find himself popular and respected at the annual meetings of the +different groups, and his influence would thus spread beyond the narrow +limits of his own small community. + +There was no special word to denote such men and distinguish them from +others. In the languages of the North Andaman they were spoken of as +er-kuro = “big.” + +Such men might perhaps be spoken of as “chiefs,” but the term is +somewhat misleading, as it makes us think of the organised +chieftainship of other savage races. + +The above statement is not quite in agreement with what has been +written by Mr Man on the same subject, and what he says is therefore +reproduced here. “Their domestic policy may be described as a communism +modified by the authority, more or less nominal, of the chief. The head +chief of a tribe is called maia igla, and the elders, or sub-chiefs, +i.e. those in authority over each community, consisting of from 20 to +50 individuals, maiola. The head chief, who usually resides at a +permanent encampment, has authority over all the sub-chiefs, but his +power, like theirs, is very limited. It is exercised mainly in +organising meetings between the various communities belonging to his +tribe, and in exerting influence in all questions affecting the welfare +of his followers. It is the chief alone, as may be supposed, who +directs the movements of a party while on hunting and fishing +expeditions, or when migrating. It is usually through his intervention +that disputes are settled, but he possesses no power to punish or +enforce obedience to his wishes, it being left to all alike to take the +law into their own hands when aggrieved. The aryoto and eremtaga in +each tribe have their own head chief, who are independent the one of +the other. As might be assumed from the results of observations made of +other savage races, whose sole or chief occupation consists in hunting +or fishing, the power of the chiefs is very limited, and not +necessarily hereditary, though, in the event of a grown-up son being +left who was qualified for the post, he would, in most instances, be +selected to succeed his father in preference to any other individual of +equal efficiency. At the death of a chief there is no difficulty in +appointing a successor, there being always at least one who is +considered his deputy or right-hand man. As they are usually, on these +occasions, unanimous in their choice, no formal election takes place; +however, should any be found to dissent, the question is decided by the +wishes of the majority, it being always open to malcontents to transfer +their allegiance to another chief, since there is no such thing as +forced submission to the authority of one who is not a general +favourite. Social status being dependent not merely on the accident of +relationship, but on skill in hunting, fishing, etc., and on a +reputation for generosity and hospitality, the chiefs and elders are +almost invariably superior in every respect to the rest. They and their +wives are at liberty to enjoy immunity from the drudgery incidental to +their mode of life, all such acts being voluntarily performed for them +by the young unmarried persons living under their headship [29].” + +Where Mr Man speaks of the “authority” of the chiefs it would be better +to speak of “influence.” Of authority the leading men have little or +none, but of influence they have a good deal. Should any one venture to +oppose a popular chief he would find the majority of the natives, +including many of his friends, siding against him. The words “chief” +and “authority” seem to imply some sort of organised rule and +procedure, and of this there is nothing in the Andamans. Mr Man also +implies that in each tribe there is always one recognized headman, but +in reality each tribe may possess two or three leading men in different +parts of the country, each with his own following. In any case a man’s +influence is largely confined to his own local group, for it is only at +the annual meetings that the men of other groups come in contact with +him. + +The early officers of the Andamanese Homes (before the time of Mr Man) +established a system of chieftainship in the islands by selecting a few +of the more trustworthy and intelligent men, whom they dignified with +the title of raja, and who acted as the intermediaries between the +Officer in Charge of the Andamanese and the natives. This system has +been continued to the present day, and the natives have adopted the +title raja for these men, having themselves no word for a chief. Where +a man is selected who is already respected and esteemed by the natives +his influence is considerably increased through the position thus +assigned to him. The natives themselves do not recognize that he has +any authority over them, but if he be a man of generosity and tact, the +majority will always support him, and his advice in any matters of +moment will be readily followed. + +Women may occupy a position of influence similar to that of the men. +The wife of a leading man generally exercises the same sort of +influence over the women as her husband does over the men. A woman, +however, would not exercise any influence over the men in matters +connected with hunting. They do have a good deal of influence in +connection with quarrels either of individuals or of local groups. + +There are certain men, and possibly sometimes women, who have an +influence over their fellows owing to their being credited with the +possession of supernatural powers. These men, called in Aka-J̌eru +oko-ǰumu (literally “one who speaks from dreams”), will be described in +a later chapter. As they are believed to have command over the powers +that produce and cure sickness everyone tries to be on good terms with +them, avoiding giving them offence in any way, and seeking their favour +by presents of food or other things. It sometimes happens that a chief +(the leading man of a local group) is at the same time a medicine-man +or oko-ǰumu, but the two positions are entirely distinct and separate, +and a man may be a medicine-man who possesses none of the qualities +that are necessary for a head man. + +There does not appear to have been in the Andamans any such thing as +the punishment of crime. We may distinguish two kinds of anti-social +actions which are regarded by the natives as being wrong. The first +kind are those actions which injure in some way a private individual. +The second are those, which, while they do not injure any particular +person, are yet regarded with disapproval by the society in general. + +Amongst the anti-social actions of the first kind are murder, or +wounding, theft and adultery, and wilful damage of the property of +another. + +No case of one Andamanese killing another has occurred in recent years. +Quarrels sometimes occur between two men of the same camp. A good deal +of hard swearing goes on, and sometimes one of the men will work +himself up to a high pitch of anger, in which he may seize his bow and +discharge an arrow near to the one who has offended him, or may vent +his ill-temper by destroying any property that he can lay his hands on, +including not only that of his enemy but also that of other persons and +even his own. At such a display of anger the women and children flee +into the jungle in terror, and if the angry man be at all a formidable +person the men occasionally do the same. It apparently requires more +courage than the natives usually possess to endeavour to allay such a +storm of anger. Yet I found that the slightest show of authority would +immediately bring such a scene to an end. A man of influence in his +village was probably generally equal to the task of keeping order and +preventing any serious damage from taking place. It was probably rare +for a man so far to give way to his anger as to kill his opponent. + +Such murders did, however, occasionally take place [30]. The murderer +would, as a rule, leave the camp and hide himself in the jungle, where +he might be joined by such of his friends as were ready to take his +part. It was left to the relatives and friends of the dead man to exact +vengeance if they wished and if they could. If the murderer was a man +who was much feared it is probable that he would escape. In any case +the anger of the Andamanese is short-lived, and if for a few months he +could keep out of the way of those who might seek revenge, it is +probable that at the end of that time he would find their anger cooled. + +A man who is liable to outbursts of violent anger is feared by his +fellows, and unless he has other counterbalancing qualities, he is +never likely to become popular. He is treated with outward respect, for +every one is afraid of offending him, but he never acquires the esteem +of others. There is a special nickname, Tarenǰek, in the North Andaman, +to denote such a man [31]. + +Quarrels were more likely to occur at the meetings of different local +groups that took place in the fine weather, and such quarrels might +occasionally end in the murder of some one. In such a case the quarrel +would be taken up by the group of the murdered man, and a feud would be +set up between them and the local group to which the murderer belonged. +Such was one of the common causes of origin of the petty warfare that +formerly existed in the Andamans, which will be referred to later in +the present chapter. + +Cases of theft seem to have been rare. It was left to the aggrieved +person to take vengeance upon the thief, but if he killed him or +seriously wounded him he would have to expect the possible vengeance of +the relatives and friends. Adultery was regarded as a form of theft. I +gathered that a man had the right to punish his wife for +unfaithfulness, but if the punishment were too severe it would be an +occasion for a quarrel with her relatives. It was difficult for the +aggrieved husband to punish the man who had offended against him. If he +killed him he would lay himself open to the revenge of the relatives. +The most he could do was to vent his anger in violent words. + +Women also occasionally quarrel with one another and swear forcibly at +one another, or even get so far as to destroy one another’s belongings, +or to fight with their fists or sticks. The men hesitate to interfere, +and the quarrel can only be stopped by some woman of influence. + +The frequent occurrence of serious quarrels is prevented both by the +influence of the older men and by the fear that everyone has of the +possible vengeance of others should he in any way offend them. + +There are a number of actions which, while they do not offend any +particular person, are regarded as being anti-social. One of these is +laziness. Every man is expected to take his proper share in providing +both himself and others with food. Should a man shirk this obligation, +nothing would be said to him, unless he were a young unmarried man, and +he would still be given food by others, but he would find himself +occupying a position of inferiority in the camp, and would entirely +lose the esteem of his fellows. Other qualities or actions that result +in a similar loss of esteem are marital unfaithfulness, lack of respect +to others and particularly to elders, meanness or niggardliness, and +bad temper. One man was mentioned to me as being a bad man because he +refused to take a wife after he had reached the age when it is +considered proper for a man to marry. In recent times at least one +young man has refused to undergo the privations connected with the +initiation ceremonies. This was of course a case of gross rebellion +against the customs of the tribe, but there was no way of punishing him +or of compelling him to conform, save by showing him that he was an +object of contempt and ridicule to others. Probably such a refusal to +conform to tribal customs could not have taken place before the British +occupation of the islands. + +Another class of wrong actions consists in the breaking of ritual +prohibitions. There are, for example, as will be shown in a later +chapter, a number of actions which it is believed may cause bad +weather, such as burning bees’-wax or killing a cicada. There is, +however, no punishment that can be meted out to any one who does any of +these things. The punishment, if we may call it so, is a purely +supernatural one, and it strikes not only the offender but every one +else as well. In the legends of the Andamanese there are one or two +stories related of how one of the ancestors, being angry, deliberately +performed one of the forbidden actions and thus brought a storm that +destroyed many human beings [32]. There are other ritual prohibitions +the non-observance of which is supposed to bring its own punishment on +the offender, who, it is believed, will be ill. + +The medicine-men (oko-ǰumu) are credited with the power to work evil +magic, and by its means to make other people ill, and even to kill +them. A man suspected of evil magic might be liable to the vengeance of +those who thought that they had been injured by him, but though the +practice was regarded as reprehensible it does not seem that the +society ever acted as a whole to punish a man suspected of it. + +Children are reproved for improper behaviour, but they are never +punished. During their years of infancy they are much spoilt, not only +by their parents but by every one. During the period of adolescence +every boy and girl has to undergo a somewhat severe discipline, to be +described in a later chapter. This probation, if it may be so called, +is enforced by a unanimous public opinion. The discipline lasts until +the man or woman is married and a parent, or if childless as so many +now are, until he or she has settled down to a position of +responsibility. + +Thus, though the Andaman Islanders had a well developed social +conscience, that is, a system of moral notions as to what is right and +wrong, there was no such thing as the punishment of a crime by the +society. If one person injured another it was left to the injured one +to seek vengeance if he wished and if he dared. There were probably +always some who would side with the criminal, their attachment to him +overcoming their disapproval of his actions. The only painful result of +anti-social actions was the loss of the esteem of others. This in +itself was a punishment that the Andamanese, with their great personal +vanity, would feel keenly, and it was in most instances sufficient to +prevent such actions. For the rest, good order depended largely on the +influence of the more prominent men and women. + +We have so far considered only the general regulation of conduct in the +local group, without giving any attention to the more special +regulations dependent on relationships by blood and by marriage. In all +human societies there is a system of rights and duties regulating the +conduct towards one another of persons who are related either by +consanguinity or through marriage. In primitive societies these +particular rights and duties occupy a position of preponderating +importance, owing, no doubt, to the small number of persons with whom +any single person comes into effective social contact. When a large +proportion of the men and women with whom any person comes in contact +are related to him, it is clear that relationship must count for a good +deal in regulating the everyday life of the people. + +Different societies have different systems of relationship. This means, +not only that they attach different duties to particular relations, but +also that they have different ways of reckoning the relationships +themselves. The vast majority of primitive peoples have some one or +other form of what is known to ethnologists as the “classificatory +system of relationship [33].” This system is intimately connected with +the existence of the social divisions known as “clans.” In the Andamans +there are no clans, and the system of relationship is fundamentally +different from all the classificatory systems. + +To understand the Andamanese system it is necessary to examine the +terms by which they denote the different kinds of relationship which +are recognized [34]. In many societies having the classificatory system +of relationship the terms which are used to denote relationship are +also used as terms of address, just as we use the terms “Father” and +“Mother.” In the Andamans this is not so. There are special words that +are used as terms of address, but these do not imply any relationship +between the speaker and the person spoken to. In the North Andaman +those terms are Maia (= Sir) and Mimi (= Lady). These are used by +younger men and women in speaking to older persons. For the rest, +persons are addressed freely by their personal names. There are no +terms of address that imply any relationship of consanguinity between +the person speaking and the person whom he addresses. This is an +important feature of the Andamanese system, distinguishing it from the +systems of many other primitive societies. + +The following is a list of terms used to denote relationship in the +North Andaman. There seems to be very little difference in this matter +between the four tribes of the North (Aka-Čari, Aka-Ko̱ra, Aka-Bo and +Aka-J̌eru). + + + aka-mai his father + aka-mimi his mother + ot-tire his child + ot-otoatue his older brother + ot-otoatue-čip his older sister + ot-arai-čulute his younger brother + ot-arai-čulute-čip his younger sister + ot-e-bui or e-bui his wife (her husband) + e-pota-čiu his father-in-law + e-pota-čip his mother-in-law + ot-otone his son-in-law. + + +Aka-mai and aka-mimi. The words for “father” and “mother” are derived +from the terms of address Maia and Mimi by the addition in each case of +the prefix aka-. By itself the term Maia is used by any man or woman in +speaking to a man older than himself or herself without implying any +relation between them beyond that of respective age. The addition of +the prefix aka- changes the word, giving it the meaning “the father of +somebody.” Thus Maia Bora means “Mr Bora” or “Sir Bora,” if we may so +translate it, but Bora aka-mai means “Bora’s father,” and aka-mai Bora +means “his or her father Bora.” The Aka-J̌eru equivalent for “my father” +is t’a-mai, the t’ being the personal pronoun “my,” after which the +prefix aka- is contracted to a-. Similarly “thy father” is ŋ’a-mai and +“their father” or “their fathers” is n’a-mai. The word aka-mimi is in +every respect exactly parallel to aka-mai. These two terms are only +used when it is necessary to refer to the actual father or mother of +anybody. For example, if a man be asked Ačiu ŋ’a-mai bi? (Who your +father is?), he will reply by giving the name of his own father. + +The stem maia clearly relates to the social position of the father of a +family. A man who is a father, or while not having any children, is +married and occupies an equivalent social position to a father, is +addressed by the term which shows his social position, Maia. When I +call a man Maia, I do not imply that he is my father nor that he is +related to me at all, but only that he is a father. On the other hand, +the prefix aka- added to the stem makes a possessive form, so that +aka-mai means “his father” and t’a-mai means “my father.” The word mimi +is exactly parallel. By itself, the stem simply shows that the person +addressed is a mother, while aka-mimi means “his mother.” + +Ot-tire. The word “child,” when there is no reference to the child of +some particular person, is translated e-tire, -tire being the stem and +e- the prefix [35]. With a change of prefix from e- to ot-, a +possessive form is made, so that ot-tire always means “his or her +child,” with reference to some particular person understood. Thus Bora +ot-tire would mean “the child of Bora,” while Bora e-tire or e-tire +Bora would mean “the child Bora.” The phrase t’ot-tire (my child) is +used by either a man or a woman to denote his or her child. + +Ot-otoatue and ot-arai-čulute. I was unable to find in the languages of +the North Andaman any words which could properly be translated +“brother” or “sister.” The two words here given are used by the +Andamanese to denote persons older or younger than the speaker, whether +they be brothers and sisters or not. The derivation of ot-otoatue could +not be ascertained, but the word means “he who was born before me,” and +it is used in this sense to denote any person of the speaker’s +generation who is older than himself. If it is necessary to emphasise +the female sex of the person spoken of, the suffix -čip is added. An +alternative word of exactly the same meaning is ot-areupu (fem. +ot-arep-čip). The word ot-arai-čulute is formed from the stem čulu or +čulutu meaning “following” or “after,” which always takes the prefix +arai-. (This prefix conveys a reference to position in time or space.) +The stem is found in such phrases as tio ŋ’arai-čulutu-bom, “I will +follow you” (literally tio = I, ŋ’ = thou, čulutu = after, and -bom, +verbal suffix), and tarai-čulik “afterwards” (t-arai-čulu-ik). The +prefix ot- added in front of the usual prefix arai- determines the +particular use of the word as referring to human beings. Thus the word +ot-arai-čulute means, literally, “he or she who was born after me.” It +is used in this sense by a man or woman to denote any person of the +same generation who is younger than himself. The suffix -čip may be +added to denote a female. Alternative words of the same meaning are +ot-ara-liču and ot-ara-bela. + +These words are not, properly speaking, terms of relationship, but +serve only to denote the respective ages of two persons. I did not +discover any terms whatever by which a man can distinguish his own +brother or sister from any other man or woman of the same age. + +Ot-e-bui. The stem -bui means “to marry,” as in n’ e-bui-om = they are +married. “My husband” or “my wife” is simply t’e-bui or t’ot-e-bui. + +E-pota-čiu and e-pota-čip. The derivation of these words was not +discovered. They are the terms by which a man distinguishes his wife’s +father and mother, and a woman her husband’s father and mother. + +Ot-otone. The word and its meaning are somewhat doubtful. It was +sometimes used by a man to denote his daughter’s husband, and perhaps +also his son’s wife. I once heard it applied to a younger sister’s +husband. It may be compared with the same word as used in the South +Andaman to be mentioned presently. + +So far as could be discovered, there are no words in the languages of +the North Andaman for grandfather, grandmother, uncle, aunt, cousin, +etc. The terms given above can be combined to describe relatives of +this kind, as + + + T’a-mimi aka-mai my mother’s father + Ot-e-bui ot-arai-čulute his wife’s younger brother + Ŋ’ot-a-mai ot-arai-čulute thy father’s younger brother + T’ot-otoatue ot-tire my older brother’s child. + + +These compound terms are not often used, however. + +The terms of relationship of the Akar-Bale tribe may be taken as +representative of the tribes of the South Andaman. The following list +contains all the more important of them. + + + da father + ab-atr father + in mother + ar-bua child + ar-kodire child (father speaking) + ab-atet child (mother speaking) + mama grandparent + ǰat grandchild + en-toaka-ŋa older brother or sister + ar-dotot younger brother or sister + otoni son-in-law + oten daughter-in-law + ab-i-ŋa consort (husband or wife) + aka-yat parent of child’s consort + aka-bua consort’s younger brother or sister + ep-taruo-ŋa step relative + ot-čat-ŋa relative by adoption + aka-kuam younger relative + ab-čuga older relative (male) + ab-čupal older relative (female). + + +Da and in. Da is the common term of address used when speaking to an +older man to whom the speaker wishes to show respect. A man will speak +of his own father as dege da, dege being the personal pronoun “my” as +used before a word that has no prefix. The term In is the common term +of address used in speaking to women. A man or woman will refer to his +or her own mother as deg’ in. The use of these two terms as applied to +parents is very similar to the use of aka-mai and aka-mimi in the North +Andaman, with the difference that in Akar-Bale the stem da or in does +not take a prefix to modify its meaning. While the use of the terms Da +and In as terms of address does not in the least imply that there is +any relationship between the person speaking and the person addressed, +yet the phrase dege da would in general be understood as referring to +the speaker’s own father. + +Ab-atr. This is a word descriptive of the relationship of a father to +his child. I never heard a man refer to his own father by this term, +but it is heard in such phrases as deg’ in l’ab-atr = my mother’s +father. It conveys a definite notion of the physiological relation +between a father and his children, and might be translated “he who +caused me to be conceived.” There is probably a feminine equivalent +meaning “mother,” but it was not noted. + +Ar-bua, ar-kodire and ab-atet. The Akar-Bale word for “infant” is +ab-liga or ab-dareka. The latter word is the phonetic equivalent of the +e-tire of the Northern languages. A parent often speaks of his or her +infant son as d’ab-bula, and of his infant daughter as d’ab-pal, +ab-bula and ab-pal being the terms for “male” and “female [36].” The +exact use of the term ar-bua is difficult to determine. The stem -bua +may be used by itself without a prefix. Dege bua (my child) would +refer, I believe, only to the child of the speaker. On the other hand, +a man would use the term d’ar-bua as referring not only to his own +child but also to the child of a brother or a sister, or even to a +person who was not related to him at all. So far as it could be +determined, it seems that a man or woman might apply this term (ar-bua) +to any person of the same generation as his or her children, whether a +relative or not. It thus means “a person of the same generation as my +own children,” and describes, not relationship, but respective age. The +word ar-kodire refers to the own child of a man, and ab-atet similarly +refers to the own child of a woman. The two words together are thus +equivalent to the ot-tire of the North Andaman, the Akar-Bale +distinguishing between the offspring of a man (ar-kodire) and the +offspring of a woman (ab-atet). + +Mama. The word is translated above as meaning “grandparent,” but it has +a wider meaning than this. It is used as a term of address to convey +more respect than is conveyed by the terms Da and In, and is thus used +in addressing any man or woman who is considerably older than the +speaker. With the personal pronoun, dege mama, it may be applied by a +man or woman to any of his grandparents, and also to his father-in-law +and mother-in-law, and to other senior relatives. + +J̌at. The word was explained to me by the natives as meaning +“grandchild.” It seems to be a sort of reciprocal of mama, and is +apparently applicable by any old man or woman to any child of the same +generation as his or her own grandchildren. + +En-toaka-ŋa and ar-dotot. These two words are used in exactly the same +way as the words ot-otoatue and ot-arai-čulute of the North Andaman. +They are not properly terms of relationship, but may be equally used in +referring to non-relatives. En-toaka-ŋa means “he who was born before +me,” and ar-dotot means “he who was born after me.” I was not able to +discover any word by which a person could distinguish his own brother +or sister from others of the same age. It is not certain, however, that +such a word does not exist. + +Otoni and oten. These are masculine and feminine forms of the same +word, and are used to denote a daughter’s husband and a son’s wife. +Otoni is also applied to a younger sister’s husband, and oten to a +younger brother’s wife. The derivation of the words was not discovered. + +Aka-yat. This is the native name for the relationship subsisting +between a person’s parents and his parents-in-law. My own mother or +father is aka-yat to my wife’s father or mother. + +Aka-bua. The word is derived from the stem bua, meaning “child.” It is +applied by a man to the younger brothers and sisters of his wife, and +by a woman to the younger brothers and sisters of her husband. + +Ab-i-ŋa. The word is translated “consort,” and means either husband or +wife. It is derived from the verbal stem -i- meaning “to marry” +(on-i-re), ab- being the prefix, and -ŋa the verbal suffix. + +Ep-taruo-ŋa. The word is used to denote a step-child, or a younger +step-brother or sister. + +Ot-čat-ŋa. The word means “adopted.” “My adopted child” is simply +expressed as d’ot-čat-ŋa, while “my foster father” is dege da +ot-čat-ŋa. The stem is -čat-, -ŋa being the verbal suffix and ot- the +prefix. + +Aka-kuam. In spite of several enquiries, I was unable to ascertain the +significance of this word. I heard it applied on different occasions to +a younger brother or sister, to a younger first cousin, and to the +brothers and sisters of a wife. The only suitable translation would +seem to be “my younger relative,” but it is not certain that it even +implies any relationship at all. It is perhaps really a term denoting +respective social status and is used by a married man to denote other +married men who are somewhat younger than himself, and with whom he is +on friendly terms. + +Ab-čuga and ab-čupal. These are the masculine and feminine forms of one +word. Mr Portman [37] gives them as meaning “married man” and “married +woman.” I heard them used, however, with the personal pronoun. Thus a +man applied the term ab-čuga to his older brother, his older sister’s +husband, and to his father’s brother. In this usage these two terms +seem to be in a sense reciprocal to aka-kuam. A younger married man +will refer to older married men and women as his ab-čuga and ab-čupal, +while they will call him aka-kuam. + +In his work on the Andamanese, Mr E. H. Man gives a long list of terms +of relationship for the Aka-Bea tribe [38]. It will be of some interest +to compare the terms there given with those of the Akar-Bale tribe +described above. + +D’ab-maiola (D’ab-mai-ola). This is translated by Mr Man as “father.” +In Aka-Bea the term Maia is the term of address corresponding to the Da +of Akar-Bale and to the Mai of the North Andaman. The suffix -ola, +added to this and other terms of address serves to convey additional +respect, as Maia, Mai-ola, Čana, Čan-ola, Mama, Mam-ola. Thus +ab-mai-ola corresponds to the aka-mai of the Northern languages. + +Dia Maia. This is given by Mr Man as applicable to the following +relatives:—my father’s brother, my mother’s brother, my father’s +sister’s husband, my mother’s sister’s husband, my father’s father’s +brother’s (or sister’s) son, my husband’s grandfather, my wife’s +grandfather, my wife’s sister’s husband (if elder), my husband’s +sister’s husband (if elder). + +Dia maiola. My grandfather, my grandfather’s brother, my grandmother’s +brother, my elder sister’s husband. + +It must be remembered that these terms are not properly terms of +relationship at all. Any man who is older than the speaker is Maia or +Mai-ola to him, the latter implying a slightly higher degree of respect +than the former. It is probable that the three different terms given +above are not used by the natives with the very precise distinctions +that are drawn by Mr Man. It may be noted that Mr Portman writes in +this connection:—”Maia is an Honorific, equivalent to the English +‘Sir,’ and is used when addressing a male elder. A son calls his father +‘Sir,’ and uses no other word in speaking to, or of, him. A pronoun + Dia maiola [39].” +emphasises the relationship, as: My Father + +D’ ab-čanola. Given by Mr Man as meaning “my mother.” It is the +feminine equivalent of d’ ab-mai-ola, Čana being the feminine of Maia, +and corresponding to the In of Akar-Bale and the Mimi of Aka-J̌eru. + +Dia čanola. This is given as the Aka-Bea translation of the +following:—my father’s sister, my mother’s sister, my father’s +brother’s wife, my mother’s brother’s wife, my grandmother, my great +aunt, my father’s father’s sister’s daughter, my mother’s mother’s +sister’s daughter, my husband’s grandmother, my wife’s grandmother, my +husband’s sister (if senior and a mother), my elder brother’s wife (if +a mother). In its formation the term is the feminine equivalent of dia +mai-ola, while in its use it is the equivalent both of this term and of +dia maia. This serves to show that there is no real precise distinction +between dia maia and dia mai-ola, such as Mr Man’s list would seem to +imply. Dia čan-ola is not, properly speaking, a term of relationship. +Any married woman senior to the speaker is entitled to be addressed as +Čana or Čan-ola. + +D’ ab-čabil. Mr Man gives this as translating “my father, my +step-father.” The feminine equivalent would seem to be d’ ab-čanola, +which is given for “my mother” and “my step-mother.” Mr Portman gives +ab-čabil and ab-čana as the Aka-Bea terms for “married man” and +“married woman [40].” The two words are the equivalents of the +Akar-Bale ab-čuga and ab-čupal. + +D’ ar-odi-ŋa. This word is given by Mr Man as one of the equivalents +for “my father.” It is parallel to the Akar-Bale term ab-atr, and is +strictly a term of physiological relationship, meaning “he who caused +me to be conceived.” + +D’ab-eti-ŋa. This is translated by Mr Man as “my mother.” It is the +corresponding term to d’ar-odi-ŋa, and refers to the physiological +relationship. + +D’ab-weǰi-ŋa or d’ab-weǰeri-ŋa. This also means “my mother,” and is +only an alternative word for the above. The stems eti and weǰi or +weǰeri seem to be two stems meaning the same thing. + +D’ar-odi-re or d’ar-odi-yate. Given by Mr Man as meaning “my son” (if +over three years of age, father speaking). It is the equivalent of the +Akar-Bale ar-kodire. + +D’ab-eti-re, d’ab-eti-yate, d’ab-weǰi-re, d’ab-weǰi-yate, +d’ab-weǰeri-re, d’ab-weǰeri-yate. These are all given by Mr Man as +translating “my son” (if over three years of age, mother speaking). +They are equivalent to the Akar-Bale ab-atet. + +The above words seem to be derived from three stems, -odi-, -eti-, and +-weǰi- (or -weǰeri-), the stems -eti- and -weǰi- having exactly the +same meaning, and belonging, perhaps, to different dialects. The words +are formed by the addition of the prefixes ar- and ab-, and the verbal +suffixes -ŋa, -re, -yate. Thus we have ar-odi-ŋa, “father,” and +ar-odi-re or ar-odi-yate, “son.” Similarly we have ab-eti-ŋa, “mother,” +and ab-eti-re or ab-eti-yate, “son” (mother speaking), while similar +equivalents are made from the stem -weǰi-. The words given as meaning +“son” may also be used to mean “daughter,” but when it is necessary to +emphasise the female sex, the suffix -pail (meaning “female”) is added, +as d’ar-odi-re-pail, d’ab-eti-re-pail. + +Dia ota and dia kata. These are given by Mr Man as meaning respectively +“my son” and “my daughter” (if under three years of age, either parent +speaking). Ota and kata are the terms for the male and female genitals. + +Dia ba. This is given by Mr Man as meaning “my daughter” (if over three +years of age, either parent speaking). It is the phonetic equivalent of +dege bua in Akar-Bale. + +Dia ba-lola. Given as the equivalent of:—my grandson (either +grandparent speaking), my brother’s grandson (male or female speaking), +my sister’s grandson (male or female speaking). The same phrase with +the addition of -pail, meaning “female,” is given as equivalent to:—my +granddaughter, my brother’s granddaughter, and my sister’s +granddaughter (male or female speaking). + +D’ar-ba. According to Mr Man this term is applicable by a male or +female to the son of a brother, a sister, a half-brother, a +half-sister, or of a male or female first cousin. With the addition of +-pail, meaning “female,” it is applicable to the daughter of any of the +above. + +Ad en-toba-re, ad en-toba-ŋa, ad en-toka-re, ad en-toka-ŋa. These terms +are given by Mr Man as alternative equivalents for “my elder brother +(male or female speaking).” The stem is -toba- or -toka-, with the +prefix en- and the verbal suffix -re or -ŋa. The ad is a special form +of the first personal pronoun, generally d’. With the addition of +-pail, meaning “female,” the term is applicable to an elder sister. The +word corresponds, both phonetically and in meaning, to the Akar-Bale +en-toaka-ŋa. + +D’ar-doati-ŋa. Given as meaning “my younger brother (male or female +speaking).” With the addition of -pail, it is applied to a younger +sister. Mr Man gives the word as being also applicable to a first +cousin, if younger than the speaker. + +D’ar-weǰi-ŋa or d’ar-weǰeri-ŋa. These are given by Mr Man as +alternative terms for “younger brother,” and, with the addition of +-pail, for “younger sister.” It is to be noted that the stem -weǰi- or +-weǰeri- is the same that occurs in one of the terms for “mother,” but +that the prefix is different, being in this case ar- instead of ab-. + +Dia mama. This is given as meaning “my wife’s brother, or my husband’s +brother (if of equal standing).” + +Dia mam-ola. Given as the equivalent of the following:—my husband’s +father, my husband’s mother, my wife’s father, my wife’s mother, my +husband’s elder brother, my wife’s brother (if older), my husband’s +sister’s husband (if older), my wife’s sister (if older and a mother), +my husband’s brother’s wife (if older), my wife’s brother’s wife (if +older). + +Mama and Mam-ola are terms of address in Aka-Bea. Mam-ola implies a +somewhat greater degree of respect than Mama, and this in its turn is +more respectful than Mai-ola or Maia. + +D’aka-kam. Mr Man gives this as a term applicable to the following +relatives:—my younger brother, my younger half-brother. With the +addition of -pail, it is applicable to a younger sister or half-sister. + +Dia otoniya and dia otin. The first of these terms is given as +meaning:—my son-in-law (male or female speaking), and my younger +sister’s husband (male or female speaking). The second term is +feminine, and is given as applicable to the following:—daughter-in-law, +husband’s sister (if younger), husband’s brother’s wife (if younger), +wife’s brother’s wife (if younger). The terms are thus equivalent, +phonetically and in meaning, to the Akar-Bale terms otoni and oten. + +Aka-yakat. This is given as the relationship subsisting between a +married couple’s fathers-in-law, and between their mothers-in-law. It +is the equivalent of the Akar-Bale word aka-yat. + +D’aka-ba-bula and d’aka-ba-pail. The meaning of the first of these is +given as “my husband’s brother (if younger),” and of the second as “my +younger brother’s wife.” The suffixes -bula and -pail mean “male” and +“female” respectively. The term aka-ba is the phonetic equivalent of +the Akar-Bale word aka-bua. The latter seems to be applied to the +younger brothers and sisters of a man’s wife or of a woman’s husband, +and to these alone. The use of these terms and of the terms otoni and +oten, as recorded from the Akar-Bale tribe, may be compared with the +usage stated by Mr Man, as there is some disagreement. In the following +table the Aka-Bea terms are given as they are found in Mr Man’s list, +while those of the Akar-Bale tribe are given from my own information. + + + Aka-Bea Akar-Bale + + Husband’s younger brother aka-ba-bula aka-bua + Husband’s younger sister otin aka-bua + Wife’s younger brother aka-bua + Wife’s younger sister aka-bua + Younger brother’s wife aka-ba-pail oten + Younger sister’s husband otoniya otoni. + + +It will be observed that the Akar-Bale list is consistent and logical +throughout. It seems probable that there is an error in Mr Man’s list, +and that “husband’s younger sister” should be aka-ba-pail instead of +otin, while “younger brother’s wife” should be otin instead of +aka-ba-pail. This would make the Aka-Bea list consistent with itself +and with the Akar-Bale list. + +Mr Man gives, in addition to the terms discussed above, a number of +compound terms, which we may examine briefly. + +D’ar-čabil-entoba-re. This is given as applicable to any first cousin +or half-brother who is older than the speaker. The feminine form is +given as d’ar-čanol-a-entoba-yate. + +D’ar-čabil-entoba-re lai-ik-yate. This is applicable to the wife of any +first cousin or half-brother, if older than the speaker. As lai-ik-yate +means “his wife,” this is a descriptive term. There is a similar term +dia čanol a-entoba-yate lai-ik-yate for the husband of an older female +cousin or half-sister. + +D’ar-ba lai-ik-yate. This means “the wife of my ar-ba,” and is +therefore applicable to the wife of the son of a brother or sister or +cousin, and to the husband of a daughter of a brother or sister or +cousin. + +There are a few other similar compounds that need not be given. + +In Mr Man’s list a step-son is given as eb-aden-ire. The word for +adoption is ot-čat-ŋa, d’ot-čat-ŋa meaning “my adopted child” and +d’ab-mai-ot-čat-ŋa “my adopted father.” + +The system of terms of relationship of the Andamanese is of great +interest as being fundamentally different from the systems of other +uncivilized peoples. It is by no means easy to discover the exact usage +of the different terms that are mentioned above. It is, however, +possible to gain a general idea, probably accurate in essentials, of +the way in which the Andamanese languages express the notions of +kinship. + +We may consider first the terms of address and the terms of +relationship formed from them. The terms of address are:— + + + Aka-Jeru Aka-Bea Akar-Bale + + Maia or Mai Da Maia Sir + Mimi In Cana Lady + ...... Mama Mama or mamola. + + +The first of these is used in addressing males and the second in +addressing females, while the third may be used either for males or for +females and implies a higher degree of respect than the others. + +In all the languages of the Great Andaman a man refers to his own +father and mother by adding a personal pronoun to the words meaning +“Sir” and “Lady.” In Aka-J̌eru a man speaks of his father as t’a-mai, +and of his mother as t’a-mimi, the a- being a contracted form of the +prefix aka-. This prefix is always used in this way in the Northern +languages. It is not possible to say tičo maia, which would be the +literal equivalent of dege da in Akar-Bale. In the Akar-Bale language +the translation of “my father” and “my mother” is dege da and deg’ in, +the dege being the personal pronoun “my” as used before a word that has +no prefix. The same formation is present also in the A-Pučikwar and +Aka-Ko̱l languages. For example in Aka-Ko̱l “my father” is tiye tao, and +“my mother” tiye in. In the Aka-Bea language, according to the +information given by Mr Man, the word maia (or maiola) may be used +combined with a prefix, as in d’ab-maiola = “my father,” or it may be +used simply with the personal pronoun as dia maia or dia maiola. +According to Mr Man these last two terms are applied not to a man’s own +father, but to the other persons whom he addresses as maia. This is +contradicted by Mr Portman who gives dia maiola as the Aka-Bea for “my +father.” + +In the Aka-Bea and Akar-Bale languages (as also in A-Pučikwar and +Aka-Ko̱l) a man always addresses his grandparent or his father-in-law or +mother-in-law by the term Mama or Mamola. He is therefore able to refer +to these persons by adding the personal pronoun to the term of address, +as dege mama in Akar-Bale. This cannot, however, be regarded as +properly a term denoting relationship, for a man may apply the term +Mama to a man or woman to whom he is not related at all [41]. + +The next kind of words that we may consider are those that describe the +respective social position of two persons. Such are the words +ot-otoatue and ot-arai-čulute in Aka-J̌eru, meaning “he who was born +before me” and “he who was born after me” respectively. These terms do +not, strictly speaking, convey any idea of consanguinity, although they +are commonly used to refer to a brother or a sister. Exactly equivalent +terms are found in all the languages, for example the en-toaka-ŋa and +ar-dot-ot of Akar-Bale. I was not able to discover in Aka-J̌eru nor yet +in Akar-Bale any term to denote a brother or a sister. In Aka-Bea, +however, Mr Man records the term ar-weǰi-ŋa or ar-weǰeri-ŋa. The stem +-weǰi- or -weǰeri-, as we shall shortly see, is a verbal stem referring +to the act of birth, -ŋa is a verbal suffix, and the prefix ar- conveys +a reference to position in space or time. The whole word seems to mean +“he or she who was born in the same womb as myself,” and is therefore +strictly a word meaning “brother or sister.” It is possible that +similar words exist in Akar-J̌eru and Akar-Bale, but I never came across +them. + +Other terms descriptive of social status are the Akar-Bale terms +ab-čuga and ab-čupal which refer to married men and women particularly +those older than the speaker. These also are not properly terms of +relationship, though a man may refer to some of his relatives as +d’ab-čuga, adding the personal pronoun to what is properly a word +descriptive of the social position of the person in question. In +Aka-Bea the equivalent terms are ab-čabil and ab-čana. It would seem +that the term aka-kuam (aka-kam in Aka-Bea) is of the same kind, being +applicable by an older married man to a younger. At any rate I was +unable to discover that it conveyed to the natives any notion of +relationship. + +There are a certain number of terms that are descriptive of definite +relationships. In the North ot-e-bui, and in Akar-Bale ab-i-ŋa are both +of them derived from verbal stems meaning “to marry” and are used to +denote a husband or a wife. In the North I did not discover any term +descriptive of a father or a mother save those derived from the terms +of address. In Akar-Bale and Aka-Bea there are such terms; ab-atr in +Akar-Bale means “father” while the word for “mother” was not noted; in +Aka-Bea a father is ar-odi-ŋa, and a mother is ab-eti-ŋa. These words +are descriptive of the physiological relation between a parent and a +child. A man’s adopted mother could not be his ab-eti-ŋa, for this term +applies only to the woman from whose womb he issued. Similarly an +adopted father or a step-father could not be ab-atr or ar-odi-ŋa. There +are similar words for child, which also refer to the physiological +relation of a child to its parent. In the North the stem -tire means +“offspring.” The offspring of a plant, that is the young shoots, are +denoted by the term era-tire, the prefix era- serving to convey a +reference to trees and plants. The offspring of an animal or of a human +being is e-tire. The word e-tire means “the child of somebody” without +reference to any particular person as the parent. In the form ot-tire +the word means “his or her child” with reference to some person +understood. A man or woman cannot in strict accuracy apply the term +ot-tire to his adopted child, though I believe that it might be used in +this loose sense at times. An adopted child is “he whom I have +adopted,” t’oi-čolo-kom. In Akar-Bale and Aka-Bea there are different +terms for “child” according as the reference is to the child of a man +or to that of a woman. Thus in Akar-Bale the child (in the +physiological sense) of a father is ar-kodire, and the child of a +mother is ab-atet. In Aka-Bea the physiological relation of a father +and child is denoted by the verbal stem -odi-. This stem takes the +prefix ar-. The word for father is formed by adding the verbal suffix +-ŋa (ar-odi-ŋa). The word for child (father speaking) is formed by +means of the verbal suffix -re or -yate (ar-odi-re or ar-odi-yate). We +may translate d’ar-odi-ŋa as meaning “he who caused me to be conceived” +while d’ar-odi-re or d’ar-odi-yate means “him whom I caused to be +conceived.” In the same language the physiological relation of a mother +and a child is denoted by the stem -eti-. This stem takes the prefix +ab-. A mother is ab-eti-ŋa, and the child of a mother is ab-eti-re or +ab-eti-yate, the verbal suffixes being used in a way similar to that in +the case of the terms for father and child. In Aka-Bea there is also a +stem -weǰi- or -weǰeri- which has exactly the same meaning as -eti- and +can be substituted for it in the terms meaning mother and child, as +ab-weǰi-ŋa = mother, ab-weǰi-re = child. + +Other descriptive words used to denote specific relationships are +e-pota-čiu and e-pota-čip and ot-otone in the Northern languages. The +derivations of these words have not been ascertained. Similar terms in +Akar-Bale are otoni and oten and aka-yat. In this language I did not +discover any word descriptive of the relationship of father-in-law or +mother-in-law. Finally there are such terms as ot-čat-ŋa (adopted) and +ep-taruo-ŋa (step-relative). + +The most noteworthy feature of these terms is that it is impossible by +means of them to deal with relationships that are at all distant. Thus +there is no term by which a man can describe his grandfather. In +Akar-Bale the phrase dege mama might mean a grandfather, but it might +equally refer to a father-in-law. It is true that the simple terms may +be combined as Aka-J̌eru “aka-mimi aka-mai” = “his mother’s father,” or +Akar-Bale “deg’ in l’ab-atr” = “my mother’s father,” but these +compounded terms are apparently not often used by the natives. A second +noteworthy feature is the existence of terms to denote physiological +relationships (as opposed to merely juridical relationships) such as +the Aka-Bea ar-odi-ŋa, etc. Finally there is the apparent entire +absence, so far as could be determined, of any classification of +relatives such as is characteristic of the classificatory systems of +relationship. Where there does seem to be some sort of approach to such +classification, as in the use of the Akar-Bale term dege mama, we find +that it is really based not on relationships of consanguinity and +marriage, but on respective social status [42]. + +As, in the languages of the Andamans, there are few words serving to +denote relationship, and on the contrary a developed system of terms +denoting social status, so in the social organisation of the Andamans +there are very few special duties between relatives, and the conduct of +persons to one another is chiefly determined by their respective social +positions. This will become evident as we proceed, and it will thus be +shown that there is a close connection between the way the natives +denote relationships and the way in which their social life is affected +by questions of relationship. + +We have already seen that in the Andamanese social organisation the +family is of great importance. A family is constituted by a permanent +union between one man and one woman. In one of its aspects this union +is a sexual one. By marriage a man acquires the sole right to sexual +congress with the woman who becomes his wife. At the same time it is +the duty of a married man to avoid sexual relations with other women +whether married or unmarried. Promiscuous intercourse between the sexes +is the rule before marriage, and no harm is thought of it. The love +affairs of the boys and girls are carried on in secret, but the older +members of the camp are generally fully aware of all that goes on. What +generally happens is that after a time a youth forms an attachment with +some girl and a marriage between them results from their love affair. + +It is impossible, at the present time, to discover exactly how the +Andamanese formerly regarded infidelity on the part of a wife or +husband. In the Great Andaman there is great laxity in this matter at +the present day. Quarrels sometimes arise when a husband discovers an +intrigue between his wife and another man, but very often the husband +seems to condone the adultery of his wife. Mr E. H. Man, writing on +this subject, says that “conjugal fidelity till death is not the +exception, but the rule,” and adds, “It is undoubtedly true that +breaches of morality have occasionally taken place among a few of the +married persons who have resided for any length of time at Port Blair, +but this is only what might be expected from constant association with +the Indian convict attendants at the various homes; justice, however, +demands that in judging of their moral characteristics we should +consider only those who have been uninfluenced by the vices or virtues +of alien races [43].” At the present time conjugal infidelity is very +common and is lightly regarded. It is almost certain that the +establishment of the Penal Settlement amongst them has affected their +morals in this particular, but there does not seem to be any very +satisfactory evidence that their former morality was quite so strict as +Mr Man would have us believe. One piece of evidence in this matter is +that the spread of syphilis, when it was first introduced amongst them +seems to have been very rapid, and yet this was before many of the +tribes had been very seriously affected by the Settlement. + +Besides the special sexual relation between a husband and wife there is +a special economic relation, if we may speak of it as such. The two +share one hut between them, or one portion of a communal hut. It is the +duty of the wife to provide the fire-wood and the water for cooking and +drinking, and to cook the meals at the family fire. It is the duty of +the husband to provide flesh food for himself and for his wife, while +it is her duty to provide and prepare vegetable food. + +A marriage is not regarded as fully consummated until the birth of a +child. Mr Man states that the survivor of a childless couple is not +looked upon as the chief mourner. A father who has been away from home +greets his wife first on his return and then greets his other +relatives; but if no child has been born to him a husband first greets +his blood-relatives (father, mother, brothers, etc.) and only after +that does he visit his wife. + +The only regulation of marriage is on the basis of relationship. +Marriage is forbidden between near consanguinei. The exact rules, in +this matter, if indeed there be any exact rules, are difficult to +discover. It is quite clear that a man would not be permitted to marry +his sister or half-sister, nor his father’s or mother’s sister, nor his +brother’s or sister’s daughter. The question is more difficult when it +comes to the matter of cousins. In 1908 I only found one pair of first +cousins who were married to one another, this being in the Aka-Bo +tribe. The husband and wife were the son and daughter of two brothers. +Mr E. H. Man writes that “marriage is only permissible between those +who are known to be not even distantly connected, except by wedlock, +with each other; so inexorable indeed is this rule, that it extends and +applies equally to such as are related merely by the custom of +adoption.” He adds that marriage between first cousins is forbidden. I +was not able to satisfy myself on this point, but it seemed to me that +while such a marriage as that of first cousins was not actually +regarded as wrong, and therefore forbidden, it was regarded as +preferable that a man should marry a woman not so nearly related to +him. No distinction is made between different kinds of cousin [44]. + +My observations did not confirm Mr Man’s statement that persons related +by adoption are forbidden to marry. It is necessary, however, to +distinguish two different kinds of adoption. When the parents of a +child of less than six or seven years of age die, the child is adopted +into some other family. We may call this “orphan adoption.” As will be +explained later, there is another custom by which children of over +seven or eight are adopted by a married couple belonging to a local +group other than that of the parents, and live with them till they come +of age. The parents of the child are still alive and they visit him or +her at frequent intervals. No bar to marriage is set up by this kind of +adoption. An adopted son may marry the daughter of his foster-parents. +Indeed when children are betrothed it is the rule for the girl to be +adopted by the boy’s parents, at any rate for a time. On the other hand +it is quite possible that a child adopted when of tender years (as an +orphan) would not be permitted to marry a child of his or her +foster-parents. I was unable to satisfy myself on this point. + +There seems to be a prejudice against a woman marrying a man younger +than herself. Some of the women with whom I talked expressed strong +contempt at the idea of marrying a man younger than themselves. +Unfortunately, I neglected to obtain statistics as to the frequency +with which such marriages occur, if they occur at all. + +Beyond the prohibition of the marriage of near kin, I could not find +any restriction on marriage. A man may marry a woman from his own local +group or from another, from his own or from another tribe. That +marriages between persons belonging to the same local group did occur +in former times I was able to ascertain with certainty but I was not +able to determine the proportion of such marriages to the whole number. +It is probable that the majority of marriages, or at any rate a large +proportion, were between persons belonging to different local groups. + +Marriages are arranged by the older men and women. Children are +sometimes betrothed by their parents while they are still infants. I +found one such case in the North Andaman, and the betrothed couple, +though they were yet small children, were spoken of as being “married.” +Such betrothals are not very common at the present time. + +When the parents of a youth who is of suitable age to be married +perceive that he has formed an attachment with a girl, they take it +upon them to arrange a marriage. The matter is first of all talked over +between the young man and his parents. The man’s parents do not +themselves speak to the girl’s parents of the matter, but request some +one or more of their friends to do so. From the moment that the +possibility of a marriage exists the man’s parents avoid speaking to +the girl’s parents. Any communication between them is carried on +through a third person. They send presents to each other, of food and +other objects. The recipient of such a present hastens to make a return +of equal value. If the marriage is arranged the parents on each side +become related to one another by the relationship denoted in Akar-Bale +by the word aka-yat. The duties implied by this relationship will be +described later. + +When a marriage has finally been arranged an evening is appointed for +the ceremony. In the North Andaman this is as follows. The bride is +seated on a mat at one end of the dancing ground, her relatives and +friends sitting near her. Torches or heaps of resin are lighted near +by, so that the ceremony may be seen by the on-lookers. The bridegroom +is seated with his friends at the other end of the dancing ground. One +of the older and more respected men addresses the bride, telling her +that she must make a good wife, must provide for her husband such +things as it is the duty of a wife to obtain or make, must see that he +does not run after other women, and must herself remain faithful to +him. He then addresses the bridegroom to the same effect, and taking +him by the hand or arm, leads him to where the bride is seated and +makes him sit down beside her. The relatives and friends weep loudly, +and the young couple look very self-conscious and uncomfortable. The +shyness of the young man is such that he often attempts to run away, +but he is caught by his friends, who are prepared for such an attempt. +After some minutes the officiating elder takes the arms of the bride +and bridegroom and places them around each other’s necks. After a +further interval he again approaches and makes the bridegroom sit on +the bride’s lap [45]. They sit so for some minutes and the ceremony is +over. The other members of the community generally have a dance on such +an occasion, but in this the newly wedded pair do not join. A hut has +already been prepared for them, and all their friends make them +presents of useful objects with which to start housekeeping. They +retire shyly to their new hut, while their friends continue dancing. +The day after the ceremony the bride and bridegroom are decorated by +their friends with white clay. For a few days the newly married couple +are very shy of each other, hardly venturing to speak to or look at one +another: but they soon settle down to their new position in the life of +the community. During the early days of their marriage they are +abundantly supplied with food by their friends. They are not addressed +or spoken of by name, but if their names be A and B, the husband is +called “the husband of B” while the wife is called “the wife of A.” + +In the South Andaman the ceremony is much the same as in the North, the +only difference being that the bridegroom is led to where the bride is +sitting and is made to sit on her lap straightway, remaining there for +a few minutes. + +When a husband dies his widow may marry again if she wishes. As a rule +I believe that it is not considered fitting that she should take +another husband before the end of her mourning for her former one. Mr +Man says “it is not considered decorous that any fresh alliance should +be contracted until about a year had elapsed from the date of +bereavement [46].” I knew of one case, however, of a woman with a young +child who married again only a fortnight or so after her husband’s +death. + +Mr Man speaks of a custom “which all but compels a bachelor or widower +to propose to the childless widow of his elder brother or cousin (if +she be not past her prime), while she has no choice beyond remaining +single or accepting him; should she have no younger brother-in-law (or +cousin by marriage), however, she is free to wed whom she will. It +should be added that marriage with a deceased wife’s younger sister is +equally a matter of necessity on the part of a childless widower [47].” + +I was not able to come across a case in which a man had actually +married his elder brother’s widow in recent years. The natives whom I +questioned confirmed Mr Man’s statement, which, moreover, was based on +at least one instance known to him as having occurred. It may be noted +that in his description of this instance Mr Man says that the woman +married her husband’s “brother or cousin,” leaving us in doubt as to +which of these two relatives it really was. There is an ambiguity in +the use of the term “younger brother,” for the Andamanese have no word +meaning simply “younger brother,” but only such terms as ot-arai-čulute +and the equivalents in other languages, which apply to any younger +person, whether actually a brother or cousin or not. + +The recent changes in the social life of the Andamanese render it +difficult to determine what was the former practice in matters of this +sort, but I believe that the custom was this, that when a man of a +local group died the older men selected one of the unmarried men and +required him to marry the widow. They selected a man who was younger +than the deceased, that is who was his ot-arai-čulute, and gave the +preference to an unmarried younger brother if there were one, or to a +relative of the deceased, such as a father’s brother’s son. + +It may be noted that this custom may conflict with the other custom, +previously mentioned, that a woman objects to marrying a man younger +than herself. In the case mentioned by Mr Man a young man was compelled +to marry a woman who was considerably his senior [48]. + +I believe that, in connection with, or underlying this custom there was +an objection against a widow marrying a man who was older than her +former husband (and who would therefore be his ot-otoatue). I regret +that I cannot speak with certainty on these matters. + +We may turn now to the duties to one another of parents and children. +During their infancy the children are in the care of the mother. +Children are, however, such favourites with the Andamanese that a child +is played with and petted and nursed not only by his own father and +mother but by everyone in the village. A woman with an unweaned child +will often give suck to the children of other women. Babies are not +weaned till they are three or four years old. + +Before the children can walk, they are carried about by the mother, and +sometimes by the father or other persons, in a bark sling (called čiba +in Aka-J̌eru), which is shown in Plate XIV. After they can walk the +children generally accompany their mothers in their expeditions near +the camp for firewood or vegetables. When they are not with their +mothers they amuse themselves with games in the village or on the +beach. All the children of the coast villages learn to swim when they +are very young, in fact almost as soon as they learn to walk, and many +of their games are conducted in the water. + +When a boy reaches the age of five or six his father makes him a toy +bow and arrows, and sometimes a toy canoe. From this time the boy +begins to learn the occupations of men and begins to pick up knowledge +about the animals and trees and fishes of his country. The girl, +accompanying her mother on her expeditions to gather roots and seeds, +or to catch fish or pick up molluscs on the reefs, learns what it is +necessary for women to know. + +Until the age of about eight to ten a child lives with his parents, +having a place in the family hut, and a share of the family meal. The +children are treated with extreme kindness, and are never punished, and +hardly ever scolded. Should the parents die the children are adopted by +friends or relatives, and such adopted children are treated by the +foster-parents in exactly the same way as their own children. + +At the age of ten, or a little before, a change is often brought about +in the life of a child, owing to the custom of adoption. Mr Man writes +of this custom as follows: + +“It is said to be of rare occurrence to find any child above six or +seven years of age residing with its parents, and this because it is +considered a compliment and also a mark of friendship for a married +man, after paying a visit, to ask his hosts to allow him to adopt one +of their children. The request is usually complied with, and +thenceforth the child’s home is with his (or her) foster-father: though +the parents in their turn adopt the children of other friends, they +nevertheless pay continual visits to their own child, and occasionally +ask permission (!) to take him (or her) away with them for a few days. +A man is entirely at liberty to please himself in the number of +children he adopts, but he must treat them with kindness and +consideration, and in every respect as his own sons and daughters, and +they, on their part, render him filial affection and obedience. It not +unfrequently happens that in course of time permission to adopt a +foster-child is sought by a friend of the soi-disant father, and is at +once granted (unless any exceptional circumstance should render it +personally inconvenient), without even the formality of a reference to +the actual parents, who are merely informed of the change, in order +that they may be enabled to pay their periodical visits [49].” + +The above passage is quoted because Mr Man had better opportunities of +observation in this matter than myself. At the present day there are +not many children in the Andamans, and this is an obstacle in the way +of this custom of adoption. From my own observation, however, I should +put the age at which it is customary for children to be adopted at +higher than six or seven. I found children of about seven or eight +still living with their own parents. The usual age of adoption seemed +to me to be from nine or ten years upwards. + +A man and his wife adopt in this way children belonging to a local +group other than their own. The adopted child lives with his or her +foster-parents, having a place in their hut and a share of their meals. +From about the age of ten children of both sexes begin to be of service +to their parents or foster-parents in many ways. The foster-parents +treat their adopted children in exactly the same way that they would +treat their own children, and the children on the other hand show the +same regard and affection to their foster-parents that they do to their +own parents, and assist them in every way that they can. Their own +parents come to visit them at regular intervals. + +The period of childhood is brought to an end at about the age of +puberty by certain ceremonies to be described in the next chapter. +After the beginning of these ceremonies a boy ceases to live in the hut +of his parents or his foster-parents, and must live with the young +unmarried men and widowers in what has been called the bachelors’ hut. +From this time until he marries, his services are constantly required +by his parents or by his foster-parents, and he is expected to obey +them and help them in any way he can. It is only after his marriage +that he becomes relatively independent and free to please himself in +his own actions, and even then he is required to provide his parents or +his foster-parents with food, and to serve them in any way they may +need. + +A girl, during the period between the beginning of the initiation +ceremonies and her marriage, continues, at any rate, in some cases, and +in these days, to live with her parents or with foster-parents. Mr Man +states that the unmarried women and girls occupy a spinsters’ hut +similar to the bachelors’ hut. It is possible that this was the former +custom. I found instances of an unmarried girl occupying a place in the +hut of a married couple who made use of her services and controlled her +conduct, regarding her in the light of a foster-daughter. On one +occasion I found two unmarried girls occupying a separate hut adjoining +that of a married couple, who looked after the girls who occupied it. + +The position of an unmarried girl is very similar to that of an +unmarried youth. She is required to help her elders, in particular +either her parents or her foster-parents, i.e. the married couple under +whose care she is for the time being. + +After marriage a son continues to help his parents, providing them with +food and seeing that they are comfortable. If either a man or a woman +lives in a local group other than that of his or her parents, he or she +pays frequent visits to them. + +From the time that a youth or girl ceases to belong to the family +household, his or her duties to the parents are really only the same in +kind as the duties that every young man and woman owes to all the older +men and women. Though there is no difference in kind, yet a man or +woman is expected to show more affection and respect for his or her own +parents than to other persons of the same social standing. + +The only other relationship, besides that of husband and wife and that +of parents and children, which exists inside the family, is that +between children of the same parents. The conduct of brothers to one +another depends on their respective ages. The younger is expected to +give way to the elder, while the latter protects and looks after the +former. The relation of sisters to one another is similar. + +The duties of a man and woman to his or her relatives, other than those +to parents, brothers and sisters, and even to some extent the duties to +these near relatives, are not distinguishable in kind from the duties +he or she owes to other persons who are not relatives. Thus a young +married man owes certain duties to all the older married men of about +the age of his father. These duties are the same in kind as those +towards his own father and his foster-father, the only difference being +that he must defer more to his own father than to other men, and must +be more constant in his attentions to him. I could not discover any way +in which a man distinguished, in his dealings with them, his father’s +brother from his mother’s brother. They are both of them older men whom +he must respect and to whom he must make presents of food. Similarly a +father’s sister is not distinguished, so far as I could discover, from +a mother’s sister. A man treats both of them in much the same way that +he treats his own mother, or any other woman of the same age. There is +only a slight difference in connection with parents-in-law. A man would +not be so familiar with his parents-in-law as he would with his parents +or their brothers or sisters, and treats them with more deference and +respect. This is borne out by the Akar-Bale custom of applying to a +father-in-law or mother-in-law the same term of address (Mama) that is +used in speaking to grandparents and others to whom it is required to +show particular deference. + +In the same way there is very little difference between the way a man +conducts himself towards his elder brother and his conduct towards any +other man of the same age. Brothers are often close comrades, putting +their huts next to one another in the same village, joining together +whenever possible in hunting or fishing expeditions, and so on; but a +man may have a comrade who is not his brother, whom he will treat in +exactly the same way. + +The general attitude of a married man to other married men somewhat +younger than himself is very much that towards a younger brother. As +between men and women one special duty appears in this connection. A +married man may not and will not have any close dealings with the wife +of a man younger than himself. It is not considered fitting that he +should speak to her. If he wished to have any communication with her, +he would do so through some third person. It would be regarded as a +wrong thing to do if he were ever to touch her. The only explanation +that the natives give of this custom is by saying that a man feels +“shy” or “ashamed” towards his younger brother’s or friend’s wife. The +custom is exactly the same with respect to the wife of any younger man, +whether a brother, a cousin, or a stranger. + +This custom depends on the distinction between older and younger. A man +may be on terms of familiarity with the wife of a man older than +himself, whom he would treat much as he would an elder sister. + +There is one special relationship which has peculiar duties attaching +to it, and this is the relationship between the father and mother of a +man on the one hand and the father and mother of the man’s wife on the +other. In the Akar-Bale language such persons are said to be aka-yat to +one another. A man or a woman will not have any immediate dealings with +a person who is his aka-yat. He will not speak to him, and if they +should meet or be sitting near to one another they would avoid looking +at each other. On the other hand a man is constantly sending presents +to his aka-yat. The natives say that two persons in this relation feel +“shy” or “ashamed.” (There is only one word in Andamanese for these two +English words, ot-ǰete in Aka-J̌eru.) The shyness begins at the moment +when a marriage between their respective children is first discussed as +a possibility, and lasts apparently till death. + +As throwing a little light on this peculiar relation it may be +mentioned that a similar relation exists between two men who have been +through either the turtle-eating ceremony or the pig-eating ceremony +(to be described in the next chapter) on the same occasion. Two such +men will avoid any contact with one another, not speaking to nor +looking at each other when they chance to meet, but on the other hand +they will be constantly giving each other presents of all kinds, +sending them through some third person. + +The main features of the relationship system of the Andaman Islanders +may be briefly summed up. The duties that one person owes to another +are determined much less by their relation to one another by +consanguinity and marriage, than by their respective ages and social +status. Even within the family, which nevertheless is of importance, +the duty of a child to a parent is very little different from his duty +to any other person of the same age. There is very little of any +special customs relating to conduct towards different kinds of +relatives. Corresponding to this we find very few terms to denote +relationships and a considerable development of the terms which denote +age and social status. Thus a man’s duties to his elder brother are +much the same as those towards the other men of the same age, and we +find that there is no word for “elder brother” but only a term by which +a man distinguishes all the men of his own generation older than +himself from those who are younger. Similarly there are no duties that +a man owes to his father’s brother or to his mother’s brother which he +does not also owe, in perhaps a less degree, to other men of the same +age, and there is no term by which he can distinguish his father’s +brother from those others. + +If this account of the system of relationship be accurate it will be +seen that the Andamanese society contrasts very strongly, in this +matter, with other primitive societies [50]. + +It remains for us only to examine the social relations between the +different local groups. Two neighbouring groups, whether of the same +tribe or of different tribes, might be either friendly towards one +another or unfriendly. Friendly relations were kept alive by several of +the customs of the Andamanese, by the intermarriage of members of +different groups, by the adoption of children from one group to +another, and by the fact that a man of one group might take up his +residence more or less permanently with another (particularly when he +married a woman of that group, or was adopted when a boy by one of the +men belonging to it). All these customs served to bind some persons in +the one group to persons in the other, and thus prevent the two groups +from becoming entirely unfriendly to one another. + +When two neighbouring local groups were friendly to one another +communication between them was kept up by visitors from one group to +another, and by occasional meetings of the whole of the two groups. + +Either a single person or a family might at any time pay a visit to +another camp, staying a few days or weeks or even longer. A man would, +however, only go visiting when he was sure of a welcome. Such visits +were most frequent in the fine months of the year (December to May). As +a husband and wife in many instances belonged to different local groups +they would, if living with the man’s parents, pay a visit every year to +the parents or other relatives of the wife. The parents of a child that +had been adopted by a member of another local group would make a point +of visiting the child when they could. Visitors to a camp would always +take with them presents to be given to their hosts. A visitor was +hospitably entertained, being given the best of the food, and joined +his hosts in their hunting and fishing expeditions. The duty of +hospitality is one upon which the Andamanese lay stress. + +The meetings of two or more local groups were organised from time to +time by the more prominent men. The time and place of the meeting would +be fixed and invitations sent out to the neighbours. The visitors, men, +women and children, would arrive at the appointed time, and would be +accommodated as well as possible by the hosts. During the first few +hours, as the natives themselves told me, everyone would feel a little +shy and perhaps frightened, and it would take some time for this +feeling to wear off. The visitors would bring with them various +objects, such as bows, arrows, adzes, baskets, nets, red paint, white +clay, and so on. These were given by the visitors to their hosts, and +other presents were received in return. Although the natives themselves +regarded the objects thus given as being presents, yet when a man gave +a present to another he expected that he would receive something of +equal value in return, and would be very angry if the return present +did not come up to his expectations. A man would sometimes mention, +when giving his present, that he would like some particular object in +exchange, but this was the exception and not the rule, and the process +cannot be spoken of as barter. In certain cases it undoubtedly served a +useful economic purpose. Thus if a local group had no red ochre or +white clay in their own country they could obtain these commodities by +exchange with others who had. In the case of a meeting between forest +and coast dwellers, the former could obtain such things as shells, red +paint made with turtle fat, and other objects with which they could not +provide themselves in any other way. It was in this way also that the +iron obtained from a wreck on one part of the coast would be spread +over a large area. For the most part, however, as each local group, and +indeed each family, was able to provide itself with everything that it +needed in the way of weapons and utensils, the exchange of presents did +not serve the same purpose as trade and barter in more developed +communities. + +The purpose that it did serve was a moral one. The object of the +exchange was to produce a friendly feeling between the two persons +concerned, and unless it did this it failed of its purpose. It gave +great scope for the exercise of tact and courtesy. No one was free to +refuse a present that was offered to him. Each man and woman tried to +out-do the others in generosity. There was a sort of amiable rivalry as +to who could give away the greatest number of valuable presents. + +The visitors remained with their hosts for a few days. The time was +spent in hunting, feasting and dancing, and in the exchange of presents +above described. The hosts made every effort to provide the camp with +plenty of good things. The guests took their share in the hunting and +fishing expeditions. Every evening was spent in singing and dancing. +Some of the men were sure to have composed new songs for such an +occasion. + +Such meetings as these were sometimes the means of bringing to an end +past quarrels between the local groups, but occasionally they were the +cause of new quarrels. The hosts, or some of them, might think that +they had been shabbily treated in the matter of presents, or the guests +might complain that they were not well enough entertained. It often +needed a man of strong influence to maintain harmony in the camp. Angry +words might lead to the rapid breaking up of a meeting, and even result +in a feud between the two groups. + +Quarrels between individuals, as we have seen, were often taken up by +friends on each side. This was particularly the case when the two +opponents belonged to different local groups. Before the days of the +settlement of the islands there often arose in this way petty quarrels +between neighbouring local groups. In some instances there appear to +have been feuds of long standing; in others there was a quarrel, a +fight or two, and the enemies made peace with one another, until a +fresh cause of disagreement should arise. + +It does not seem that there was ever such a thing as a stand-up fight +between two parties. The whole art of fighting was to come upon your +enemies by surprise, kill one or two of them and then retreat. A local +group that had some grievance against another would decide to make an +attack. They might seek and obtain the aid of friends from other local +groups. The men who were to take part in the expedition would paint +themselves and put on various ornaments and join in a dance [51]. They +would then set out, either by land or by sea, in the direction of the +encampment they meant to attack. Their weapons consisted of bows and +arrows, and they carried no shields or other defensive weapons. They +would not venture to attack the enemy’s camp unless they were certain +of taking it by surprise. For this reason such attacks were generally +made either in the evening when the camp would be busy with the +preparation of the evening meal, or at early dawn, when every one would +be asleep. The attacking party would rush the camp and shoot as many +men as they could. If they met with any serious resistance or lost one +of their own number they would immediately retire. Those attacked, if +they were really taken by surprise, were generally compelled to save +themselves by flight. Though the aim of the attacking party was to kill +the men, it often happened that women or children were killed. The +whole fight would last only a few minutes, ending either with the +retirement of the attackers before resistance, or the flight of those +attacked into the jungle. A wounded enemy would be killed if found. + +Such attacks and counter-attacks might be continued for some years, +thus establishing a feud between two neighbouring local groups. More +usually, however, after one or two such fights peace would be made. In +the tribes of the North Andaman there was a special peace-making +ceremony, that will be described in the next chapter. All peace +negotiations were conducted through the women. One or two of the women +of the one group would be sent to interview the women of the other +group to see if they were willing to forget the past and make friends. +It seems that it was largely the rancour of the women over their slain +relatives that kept the feud alive, the men of the two parties being +willing to make friends much more readily than the women. + +An example of a long-continued feud, which, to all appearance, has been +in existence for several centuries, is that between the Aka-Bea and the +J̌a̤rawa of the South Andaman. The J̌a̤rawa have the advantage over the +Aka-Bea that their camps are situated in the dense forest and are +difficult to find, while the camps of the Aka-Bea are mostly along the +sea-coast. At the present day the J̌a̤rawa take some precautions against +being surprised in their camp by a hostile party. The camp is often +placed on the top of a hill and the trees in the neighbourhood are cut +down so that they have a good view. The paths leading to the camp are +also cleared and made wider than is usual in a native path. At times it +would seem that they keep sentries on the look-out. + +The Aka-Bea and the J̌a̤rawa were inveterate enemies. Whenever two +parties of them met by any chance, or came in the neighbourhood of one +another, the larger party would attack the other. When the Settlement +of Port Blair was established, friendly relations were set up with the +Aka-Bea, and since that time the hostility of the J̌a̤rawa has been +directed not only against the friendly Andamanese (Aka-Bea, etc.) but +also against the inhabitants of the Settlement [52]. + +Such a thing as fighting on a large scale seems to have been unknown +amongst the Andamanese. In the early days of the Penal Settlement of +Port Blair, the natives of the South Andaman combined in large numbers +to make an attack on the Settlement, but this seems to have been an +unusual course of action in order to meet what was to them an +altogether unusual contingency, their territory having been invaded by +a large force of foreigners. Their only fights amongst themselves seem +to have been the brief and far from bloody skirmishes described above, +where only a handful of warriors were engaged on each side and rarely +more than one or two were killed. Of such a thing as a war in which the +whole of one tribe joined to fight with another tribe I could not find +any evidence in what the natives were able to tell me of their former +customs. + +As showing within what narrow limits the different local groups held +communication with one another, it may be mentioned that till the year +1875 the Aka-Bea natives of Port Blair did not know of the existence of +the Aka-Ko̱l tribe, less than fifty miles distant, nor of any of the +tribes further north. As a general rule it may be said that no man knew +anything of any of the natives living more than twenty miles from his +own part of the country. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +CEREMONIAL CUSTOMS + + +In such a society as that of the Andaman Islanders it is possible to +distinguish three different ways in which the actions of individuals +are regulated or determined by the society. There are, first of all, +what we may distinguish as “moral customs,” whereby the actions of +individuals in relation to one another are regulated on principles of +right and wrong conduct. It was with customs of this kind that we were +concerned in the last chapter. Secondly, the activities by which the +natives obtain their food and make the various objects of which they +have need are determined by tradition. Such activities are purely +utilitarian and they are regulated, not by commandments similar to +those of the moral law, but by accumulated technical knowledge as to +the means by which a particular object may be attained. These we may +speak of as the “technical customs” of the society. + +There are customs of a third kind which are distinguishable both from +moral customs and from technical customs. For example, when a man dies, +his near relatives observe certain mourning customs, such as covering +their bodies with clay. Such customs are distinguished from technical +customs by having no utilitarian purpose. They are distinguished from +moral customs by this, that they are not immediately concerned with the +effects of the action of one person upon another. + +It is difficult to find a satisfactory name for all the customs of this +kind. A large number of them may be spoken of as “ceremonial customs,” +and it is this that explains the title of the present chapter. + +It is not pretended that this division of social customs into three +different kinds is of any great or permanent value, and it is only +introduced as an aid to the exposition of the customs of the +Andamanese. It will be argued in a later chapter that many of the +customs described in the present chapter have a common psychological +basis. + +Of any customs in connection with the birth of children I was able to +learn very little, as no births at which I could be present occurred +during my stay at the islands. Earlier writers have given very little +information on this subject. + +During the latter part of the period of pregnancy, and for about a +month after the birth of the child, the mother and father must observe +certain restrictions. In particular there are certain foods that they +may not eat. The statements of different informants on this matter did +not quite agree with each other, and it seems that there were slightly +different rules in different tribes. According to an Akar-Bale +informant the man and woman may not eat dugong, honey and yams; they +may eat the flesh of small but not of full-grown pigs and turtle. An +informant of one of the Northern tribes said that the woman may not eat +full-grown pig, Paradoxurus, turtle, dugong, the fish komar, monitor +lizard, honey and yams; her husband may eat these things but must +carefully avoid eating certain fishes. + +The natives give two different reasons for these rules. One is that if +these foods be eaten by the parents the child will be ill. The other is +that the parents themselves will be ill. The latter is the explanation +most commonly offered. + +The baby is named some time before it is born, and from that time the +parents are not addressed or spoken of by name. For example, if the +name chosen be Rea, the father will be spoken of as Rea aka-mai (Rea’s +father) instead of by his own name. The mother may be referred to as +Rea it-pet, from the word it-pet meaning “belly.” This practice is +continued till some weeks after the birth, when the use of the names of +the parents is once more resumed. + +In child-birth the woman is assisted by the matrons of the camp. She is +seated in her hut in the village on fresh leaves, and a piece of wood +is placed at her back for her to lean against. Her legs are flexed so +that her knees may be clasped by her arms. The only manipulation is +pressure exerted on the upper part of the abdomen by one of the +attendant women. The umbilical cord is severed with a knife, formerly +of cane or bamboo, but in these days of iron. The after-birth is buried +in the jungle. The infant is washed and then scraped with a Cyrena +shell. After a few days he (or she) is given a coating of clay (odu). + +If a baby dies and within a year or two the mother again becomes +pregnant, it is said that it is the same baby born again, and the name +of the deceased child is given to it. Thus one woman had three children +of the same name, the first two having died soon after birth. According +to the native ideas this was really the same child born three times. It +is only those who die in infancy that are thus reincarnated. + +In the Northern tribes it is believed that a woman can tell the sex of +her unborn child. If she feels it on the left side it is a male, +because men hold the bow (the typical masculine implement) in the left +hand. If she feels it on the right side it is a female, because it is +in her right hand that a woman holds her fishing net. + +A married man who is childless and desires a child will wear a čiba +(sling of bark used for carrying children) round his shoulders when he +is sitting in camp. The čiba and the way it is used for carrying +children may be seen in the photograph in Plate XIV. If a childless +woman wishes to have a child she may catch, cook and eat a certain +species of small frog. + +At a place called Tonmuket in the North Andaman there is a spot to +which it is said that women may resort if they wish to become pregnant. +On the reef at this spot there are a large number of stones which, +according to the legend, were once little children. The woman who +desires a child walks out on to the reef when the tide is low and +stands upon these stones. It is believed that one of the baby souls +will enter her body and become incarnate [53]. + +In the North Andaman there is some sort of association between the +unborn souls of babies, the green pigeon and the Ficus laccifera tree. +The same name, Reŋko, is used to denote both the green pigeon and also +the Ficus laccifera, of the fruit of which the pigeon is very fond. The +belief of the natives is sometimes stated by saying that the souls of +unborn children live in the Ficus trees, and that if a baby dies before +it has been weaned its soul goes back to the tree. Another statement of +the natives is that it is when the green pigeon is calling that the +soul of a baby goes into its mother. The Ficus is to a certain extent +tabu. I was told that the tree must not be cut or damaged. Nevertheless +the natives do cut the tree in order to obtain the bark of the aerial +roots from which they prepare a fibre that they use for making personal +ornaments. There is no tabu in connection with the green pigeon, which +may be killed and eaten. + +In most primitive societies, if not in all, there are ritual or +ceremonial observances in connection with the change by which a boy or +girl becomes a man or woman. The ceremonies that are performed to mark +this change are commonly spoken of in ethnological literature as +“initiation ceremonies.” The term is not perhaps the best that could be +chosen, but usage has rendered it familiar. + +The life of an Andaman Islander is divided into three well-marked +periods, corresponding roughly with the physiological periods of +childhood, adolescence, and maturity. The first period lasts from birth +till about the advent of puberty; the second lasts from puberty till +after marriage; the third extends from marriage to death. + +During the period of childhood the boy or girl lives with his or her +parents, or, in the later years of the period, with adopted parents, +having a place in the family hut and a share in the family meal. A girl +continues to live with her parents or with her adopted parents until +she marries. When boys have finished growing, and have reached the +condition of young men, they cease to live with their parents or +adopted parents and, until they are married, they occupy a bachelors’ +hut of their own, and have their own meal. + +Every boy and girl has to undergo the operation of scarification. This +is begun when the child is quite young, and a small portion of the body +is operated on. The operation is repeated at intervals during +childhood, until the whole body has been scarified. A small flake of +quartz or glass is used, and a series of fine incisions are made in the +skin. The usual method is to cover a small portion of the skin with a +number of parallel rows of short cuts. The choice of the design (if it +can be called such) rests entirely with the person who performs the +operation, who is in all cases a woman. The incisions leave scars that +can usually only be seen when close to the person. In the photograph of +Plate XV a pattern of scars may be seen. In this case the incisions +became infected and raised scars were produced, and it is for this +reason that they are visible in the photograph. In ordinary cases +raised scars are not produced and the scarification is hardly visible +in a photograph. + +The only reason that the natives give for this custom is either that it +improves the personal appearance, or else that it helps to make the +child grow strong. + +In the case of a girl the period of childhood is brought to a close by +a ceremony that takes place on the occasion of her first menstrual +discharge. The ceremony I describe is that in use in the Northern +tribes, but I believe that the ceremony of the Southern tribes is very +similar. On the occurrence of the first menstrual discharge the girl +tells her parents, who weep over her. She must then go and bathe in the +sea for an hour or two by herself. After that she goes back to her +parents’ hut or to a special shelter that is put up for the occasion. +She is not required to go away from the camp. All ornaments are removed +from her, only a single belt of Pandanus leaf being left, with an apron +of čainyo leaves. Strips of Pandanus leaf are attached round her arms +near the shoulders and round her wrists, and others are placed as bands +crossing her chest from the shoulder to the waist on the opposite side, +and crossing her abdomen from the iliac crest on the one side to the +trochanter on the other. These are so attached that the long loose ends +hang down at the girl’s side. Bunches of leaves, either čelmo +(Tetranthera lancæfolia) or, if these be not obtainable, poramo +(Myristica longifolia) are fastened beneath her belt before and behind. +Other leaves of the same kind are placed for her to sit upon. The +strips of Pandanus leaf and the bundle of leaves are visible in the +photograph reproduced in Plate XVI. + +Thus covered with leaves the girl must sit in the hut allotted to her, +with her legs doubled up beneath her and her arms folded. A piece of +wood or bamboo is placed at her back for her to lean against, as she +may not lie down. If she is cramped she may stretch one of her legs or +one of her arms, but not both arms or both legs at the same time. To +feed herself she may release one of her hands, but she must not take up +the food with her fingers; a skewer of čainyo wood [54] is given her +with which to feed herself. She may not speak nor sleep for 24 hours. +Her wants are attended to by her parents and their friends, who sit +near her to keep her from falling asleep. + +The girl sits thus for three days. Early every morning she leaves the +hut to bathe for an hour in the sea. At the end of the three days she +resumes her life in the village. For a month following she must bathe +in the sea every morning at dawn. + +During the ceremony and for a short time afterwards the girl is not +addressed or spoken of by name, but is referred to as Alebe or Toto. +The meaning of the first word is not known. Toto is the name of the +species of Pandanus from which women’s belts are made and the leaves of +which are used in the ceremony. On the occasion of this ceremony the +girl is given a new name, her “flower-name,” and from this time till +after the birth of her first child she is never addressed or spoken of +by the name which she had as a child, but only by the name given to her +at this ceremony. The name given is that of a plant or tree which is in +flower at the time. If the ceremony takes place when the ǰili is in +flower she is called J̌ili; if when the ǰeru is in flower she is named +J̌eru, and so on. These names will be mentioned again later in the +present chapter. + +After this ceremony the girl is said to be aka-ndu-kolo̱t. For some time +afterwards she must not have her head shaved, and she must not use red +paint or white clay. + +I was not able to learn much about the native ideas in connection with +the menstrual function. According to the account given me by one +informant I gathered that the girl’s first menstrual discharge is +supposed to be due to sexual intercourse. The man’s breath goes into +her nose and this produces the discharge. It is believed that if a man +were to touch a girl during this period, either during the ceremony or +for some time after it, his arm would swell up. + +At every recurrence of the menstrual period a woman is required to +abstain from eating certain foods. According to an Akar-Bale informant +these are, in that tribe, pork, turtle, Paradoxurus, honey and yams. An +Aka-Čari informant added to the above list dugong, monitor lizard, and +the fish komar. If she ate any of these things at such a time she would +be ill. This continues throughout her life till the climacteric. A +menstruating woman is not required to leave the camp, as she is in many +savage communities. + +From the moment of the ceremony just described the girl enters a new +condition which is denoted in the Aka-J̌eru language by the word aka-op +(aka-yaba in Aka-Bea). This word means that the person to whom it is +applied is under certain ritual restrictions, chiefly concerned with +foods that may not be eaten. + +In the case of a boy there is no physiological event so clearly marked +as there is in that of a girl. It rests with the relatives and friends +to decide when the boy is to become aka-op. It would seem that in the +Southern tribes there is no ceremony on this occasion. Among the +Northern tribes the boy is made aka-op by means of a ceremony that +consists of making the scars on his back that are customary in these +tribes [55]. + +When the friends and relatives of a boy decide that he is old enough to +have the incisions made in his back a dance is held in the evening, and +the boy is required to dance through the whole night till he is tired. +As soon as morning breaks he is made to bathe in the sea for two hours +or so. He is then seated in some convenient place, not in a hut. The +boy kneels down and bends forward till his elbows rest on the ground in +front. One of the older men takes a pig-arrow and with the sharpened +blade makes a series of cuts on the boy’s back. Each cut is horizontal, +and they are arranged in three vertical rows, each row consisting of +from 20 to 30 cuts. When the cutting is finished the boy sits up, with +a fire at his back, until the bleeding stops. During the operation and +for a few hours following it the boy must remain silent. There is no +treatment of the wounds to produce raised scars. The scars are much +more noticeable on some men than on others. + +The boy does not receive a new name on this occasion, but for a few +weeks his own name is dropped and he is addressed and spoken of as +Eǰido. From this time the boy is described as being oko-taliŋ-kolo̱t, +this being the masculine term corresponding to aka-ndu-kolo̱t for girls. +From the time the cuts are made on his back the boy becomes aka-op and +is under certain restrictions as to what foods he may eat. + +When the wounds on his back are thoroughly healed similar cuts are made +on his chest. I found a certain number of men who had no visible scars +on their chests, but in the North Andaman every man has the three rows +of scars on his back. Some of the women of the North Andaman have +similar scars on their chests and a very few have them also on the +back. These scars on women are not regularly made as part of the +initiation ceremonies, and may be made after the woman has been married +for some years. + +During the period that a boy or girl is aka-op he or she is required by +the customs of the tribe to abstain from eating certain foods. The +exact rules in this matter differ from tribe to tribe. More +particularly there are important differences between the coast-dwellers +on the one hand and the jungle-dwellers on the other. The general +principle, however, is in all cases the same. The boy (or girl) must +abstain from all the chief foods of the people, and since he could not +abstain from them all at one time without starving, he takes them in +turn. It is in the order in which the different foods are forbidden +that the chief differences occur. + +In the Aka-Čari tribe of the North Andaman, where all are +coast-dwellers, the boy or girl, during the first part of the aka-op +period must not eat turtle, dugong, porpoise, komar (a fish), hawksbill +turtle, the two kinds of edible grubs (pata and čokele), the monitor +lizard, the flying fox (Pteropus), certain birds (perhaps all birds), +certain shell-fish, the four varieties of mangrove seed (kao, čimi, +kabal and kaplo), three edible roots (mino, labo and mikulu), and a +large number of other vegetable foods, including lo̱itok, poroto (if +cooked, but it may be eaten raw), biǰo, čoroŋo, celet, buroŋ, bui, +bakle, čo, čatali, and kata. A certain number of fishes must be added +to this list. This period is brought to a end by the turtle-eating +ceremony which will be presently described. After this ceremony, +turtle, which is one of the chief foods of the Aka-Čari, may be eaten, +although certain parts of the turtle (such as the intestinal fat) are +still forbidden, and the youth is also allowed to eat many of the other +foods previously forbidden. On the other hand he is now required not to +eat pork and a number of other foods both animal and vegetable. During +this second period certain minor ceremonies take place, as for instance +on the first occasion on which turtle’s eggs are eaten. This period is +brought to an end by the pig-eating ceremony. After that the youth is +again free to eat pork. As turtle and pork are the two most important +foods the ceremonies and observances in connection with these occupy a +position of greater importance. After the pig-eating ceremony the youth +is made free of one food after another, until some time after he is +married he becomes free to partake of any of the foods available. In +the case of some of the more important foods, such as honey, dugong, +porpoise, the fish komar, etc., there is a sort of minor ceremony. The +only ceremonies of any great importance in this tribe are the +turtle-eating and the pig-eating ceremonies. + +In the forest-dwelling communities of the North Andaman things are +necessarily different. These people only eat such foods as turtle, +dugong, etc. when they are visiting their friends on the coast. The +three most important ceremonies amongst these people are the +ńyuri-eating, the pig-eating and the honey-eating ceremonies. (The +ńyuri is a fish that is found in the creeks.) According to my +informants of the Aka-Bo tribe the foods that must be avoided during +the first part of the abstention period are all species of fish found +in inland creeks (ńyuri, burto, bari, bol, kuato), the monitor lizard, +sucking-pig, two species of snake (or-čubi and uluku-čubi), a number of +vegetable foods and also honey. After the ńyuri-eating ceremony the +different kinds of fish mentioned may be eaten, but the youth or girl +must then abstain from pork. + +These examples, without entering into further details, will suffice to +show what is the nature of the aka-op period. During that period the +youth must abstain for a certain length of time from each one of the +more important foods of his community. After a certain period of +abstention he is permitted to eat the particular food. On each occasion +of thus eating a food for the first time after the abstention, there +are certain ritual customs that must be observed, and these customs are +more important in some cases (such as pig, turtle and honey) than in +others. In the case of some of the foods the only ritual observed is +that the food must be given by an older man, who is himself free to eat +it, that it must be eaten in silence, and that the man must be painted +afterwards with clay (odu). In the case of pork and turtle, however, +there are fairly elaborate ceremonies. The ceremonies are very similar +in different parts of the islands. The description given below applies +to the coast-dwellers of the North Andaman. In these communities the +period of abstention from turtle and other foods begins in the case of +a girl at the first menstruation, and in the case of a boy when his +back is cut. It may last only one year or several years, according to +circumstances, and is brought to a close by the turtle-eating ceremony. +The details of this are exactly the same in the case of a girl and a +boy. + +When the older men decide that it is time for a boy who has been +abstaining from turtle to be released from the restriction, a +turtle-hunting expedition is arranged, and this is continued until a +fair number of good turtle are captured. The best of these is selected, +killed, and cooked. The youth is seated in a hut, either that of his +parents, or one placed at his disposal by a friend or one specially +built [56]. All his ornaments are removed. (In the case of a girl one +belt of Pandanus leaf is retained.) He is seated on leaves of the +Hibiscus tiliaceus, or if these be not obtainable, on those of the +Myristica longifolia, and a bundle of the same leaves is placed under +his folded arms so as to cover his belly, while another bundle is +placed at his back where there is some sort of rest provided for him to +lean against. He must sit still with folded arms and with legs +stretched out in front, the two big toes clasping each other. He sits +facing towards the open sea, and a fire is placed near him, generally +just beyond his feet. + +Some man is chosen to take charge of the ceremony. This may be one of +the older men of the community to which the youth belongs or a +distinguished visitor, if there be any such present in the camp at the +time. This man selects some of the meat and fat of the cooked turtle, +placing them in a wooden dish. He comes to where the youth is seated, +while the friends and relatives gather round. Taking some of the fat he +rubs it first over the lips and then over the whole body of the youth, +while the female relatives of the latter sit near and weep loudly. When +the youth’s body is thoroughly covered with fat the man who is +performing the ceremony takes some burnt oxide of iron, such as is used +for making red paint, and rubs it over the youth’s whole body, except +the hair of his head. He then takes a piece of turtle fat and places it +in the youth’s mouth, feeding him thus with a few mouthfuls which the +youth eats in silence. At this point the weeping of the relatives is +taken up again with renewed vigour and then gradually comes to an end. +Having fed the youth the man then proceeds to massage him. He first +stands behind him and placing his hands on his shoulders presses down +on them with all his weight. Then he seizes a roll of flesh on each +side of the youth’s belly and shakes it up and down as though to shake +down what has been eaten. The arms are next massaged and the wrists and +knuckles are forcibly flexed so as to make the joints “crack.” The legs +are similarly massaged, either with the hands or with the feet, the +performer (in the latter case) standing on the outstretched legs of the +youth and rolling the muscles beneath his feet [57]. The joints of the +toes are forcibly bent with the hand to make them “crack” if possible. +A mixture of clay (odu) and water has been prepared in a wooden dish. +The performer dips his hands into this and spatters it over the youth’s +body from head to foot, either by holding his hands near the youth and +clapping them together, or by jerking the clay off his fingers with a +flicking motion. During the whole of these proceedings the youth sits +passive and silent. + +The first part of the ceremony is now over. The food tray containing +turtle meat and fat, cut into small pieces, is placed beside the youth +and he is provided with a skewer of the wood of the Hibiscus tiliaceus, +as he may not touch the meat with his fingers. He must sit in the same +position with legs outstretched and arms folded and surrounded with +Hibiscus leaves. To feed himself he may unloose one arm, and when his +legs are cramped he may double them up beneath him. He may not lie down +nor speak nor sleep for 48 hours. During this period he may eat nothing +but turtle and drink nothing but water [58]. The man in charge of the +ceremony sits behind him and gives him instructions as to what foods he +may and what he may not eat after the ceremony. Some of the men and +women take it in turn to sit beside the youth, attending to his wants +and talking or singing to keep him awake. + +On the morning of the third day a belt and necklace are made of pieces +of the creeper called terkobito-balo, i.e. “centipede creeper” (Pothos +scandens), and these are placed round the youth’s waist and neck. On +this day he is permitted to sleep. Either on the same day, or early the +next morning, he has a bath in the sea, to remove some of the red paint +and clay, and he is then decorated with red paint made of red ochre and +turtle fat, and with white clay (to̱l-odu). The red paint is put on in +stripes over his body, and his ears are daubed with it. The white clay +is put on in a zig-zag pattern to be described later, the lines of +white clay alternating with those of red paint. This decoration is done +by female relatives. + +Early on the morning of the fourth day, soon after daybreak, the whole +village is astir. One of the older men takes his stand by the +sounding-board used for marking time at dances, and the women sit down +near him. The youth comes out from his hut and stands in the middle of +the dancing ground, and five or six men stand round him in a circle, +each of them facing towards the youth. Each of the men, including the +youth, holds in each hand a bundle of twigs of the Hibiscus tiliaceus +or, if such be not obtainable, of the Myristica longifolia. The man at +the sounding-board sings a song, beating time with his foot, in the +usual way, on the sounding-board, and at the chorus the women join in +and mark the time by clapping their hands on their thighs. The song may +be on any subject and is selected by the singer from his own repertory. +A song referring to turtle-hunting is preferred. During the first song +the dancers stand at their positions on the dancing ground, lifting up +their leaf bundles at short intervals and bringing them down against +their knees. The singer then commences a new song or repeats the former +one, and when the song comes to an end the youth and those with him +begin their dance. Each dancer flexes his hips so that his back is +nearly horizontal. He raises his hands to the back of his neck so that +the two bundles of leaves in his hands rest on his back. With knees +flexed he leaps from the ground with both feet, keeping time to the +beating of the sounding-board, which is about 144 beats to the minute. +At the end of every eight jumps or so, the dancer brings his hands +forwards, downwards and backwards, giving a vigorous sweep with the +bundles of leaves, which scrape the ground at each side of his feet, +and then brings back the bundles to their former position. They dance +thus for 15 or 30 seconds and then pause to rest. The dance is repeated +several times, until the youth is tired out. As the dance is extremely +fatiguing this does not take long [59]. + +The youth then returns to his hut and resumes his former position. He +may now, if he wishes, talk to his friends and he may sleep. He must +retain the bundles of Hibiscus leaves and the necklace and belt of +Pothos leaves. The dance is sometimes repeated in the afternoon. It is +in any case repeated on each of the two days following, and after that +the youth resumes his ordinary life. For a week or two he may not touch +a bow and arrow. The Pothos leaves are worn till they are faded and are +then discarded. The paint on the body wears off and is not renewed, but +his ears are kept painted with red paint. For some weeks the youth is +supposed to be in an abnormal condition and is carefully watched by his +friends. + +At the turtle-eating ceremony a new name is given to the youth. This +name, however, never seems to be used afterwards either in speaking of +or to the person to whom it belongs. A youth of the Aka-J̌eru tribe +whose birth name was Čop (from a species of tree) and whose nick-name +or second name was Komar (from a species of fish) had two new names +given to him on the occasion of the turtle-eating ceremony, Čokbi-čiro +(meaning turtle-liver) and Pilečar (high-tide). Neither of these names +was ever used in addressing him. + +The turtle-eating ceremony is called in the Northern tribes either +Čokbi-ǰo, Čokbi-kimil, or Kimil-ǰo. The word čokbi means “turtle,” and +ǰo means “eating.” The word kimil is more difficult to translate. With +the prefix ot- or er- it means “hot” as in T’ ot-kimil-bom, “I am hot.” +From the time of the commencement of the ceremony the youth or girl is +said to be in a condition denoted by the word aka-kimil. During this +time, i.e. during the ceremony and for some months afterwards, he or +she is not addressed or spoken of by name but is referred to as +“Kimil,” the word being thus used as a term of address or a substitute +for the personal name. A person who is in this condition is described +as aka-kimil-kolo̱t. (Before the ceremony the youth is oko-taliŋ-kolo̱t +and the girl is aka-ndu-kolo̱t.) In the Aka-Bea tribe the turtle-eating +ceremony is called Yadi-gumul or Gumul-leke, yadi being the word for +“turtle” in that language, and leke being the equivalent of the ǰo of +Aka-J̌eru, that is “eating.” A youth or girl who is passing or has +recently passed through the ceremony is said to be aka-gumul, and is +addressed and spoken of, not by name, but by the term Guma [60]. + +In the coast-dwelling communities of the Northern tribes, the youth or +girl who has passed through the turtle-eating ceremony is thereafter +free to eat turtle flesh (though not the liver nor the intestinal fat +of the turtle) and a certain number of the other foods that were +previously forbidden. On the other hand, he or she is now forbidden to +eat pork and a number of other foods which previously were permitted. +The period during which these new prohibitions are in force may last +for a few months or for a year or even longer. It is, however, +generally shorter than the first period of abstention from turtle. It +is brought to an end by a pig-eating ceremony which is similar in many +ways to the turtle-eating ceremony already described. A boar must be +killed if the initiate be a youth, or a sow if it be a girl who is to +go through the ceremony. The youth is seated in a hut on leaves of the +čelmo (Tetranthera) and the carcase of the boar is brought and pressed +upon the youth’s shoulders and back by one of the men. The girl is not +treated in this way. The pork is then cooked and the youth is first +anointed and then fed with some of the fat. He is then rubbed with red +ochre, massaged and splashed with clay, just as in the turtle-eating +ceremony. He must sit silent with arms crossed, and covered with +Tetranthera leaves for a day and a night. During this time he may only +eat pork, and must not touch his food with his hands but must use a +skewer of Tetranthera wood. On the following day he is decorated with +white clay (to̱l-odu) and with red paint, and takes part in a dance. The +dance is almost exactly the same as the dance on the occasion of the +turtle-eating ceremony, the only differences being that instead of +Hibiscus leaves those of the Tetranthera are used, and that the dancer +does not leap with both feet from the ground, but raises one foot and +stamps with it. + +In the Northern tribes these are the two most important ceremonies. +After the pig-eating ceremony the youth is free to eat pork and a +certain number of previously forbidden foods. There remain a +considerable number of foods, however, which he is still forbidden. In +connection with each of these there is some sort of minor ceremony. The +older men, when occasion arises, offer the youth or girl some of the +forbidden food, first rubbing it over his or her mouth. The food is +then eaten in silence. I only saw one such ceremony, when a man ate for +the first time after his abstention the intestinal fat of the turtle. +The man was about 24 years of age and had long since been through the +chief ceremonies, and was married. The ceremony is perhaps more +elaborate in the case of the similar first eating of honey, dugong and +a few other foods. One after another of the food prohibitions is +removed until the man or woman is free to eat anything. There is no +regular order in which this takes place, as in each case it is +determined by chance circumstances. The only order that is rigorously +observed is that of the two chief ceremonies connected with pork and +turtle. These two are the principal meat foods of the coast-dwellers. + +The above description applies strictly only to the coast-dwellers of +the North Andaman (Aka-Čari, Aka-J̌eru and Aka-Ko̱ra). I was not able to +see any ceremonies performed by the jungle-dwellers. The old men of the +Aka-Bo tribe told me that the period of abstention begins when a boy or +girl is forbidden to eat the fish ńyuri (Plotosus sp., probably P. +arab), and a certain number of other foods, not including pork. The +first ceremony is the eating of the ńyuri. The boy or girl is seated on +leaves (kibir or tare or ra-čiro) and bundles of these are placed in +his belt before and behind. A belt of Pandanus leaf is worn by the boys +at this ceremony as well as by the girls. The initiate sits with his +legs doubled up beneath him, and is fed with the fish. The ceremony +lasts only one day. There is no special dance, but the initiate joins +in an ordinary dance at the end of the ceremony, being decorated for +this purpose with white clay. After this ceremony the youth must +abstain from pork and other foods. The pig-eating ceremony, which +closes this period of abstention, lasts altogether for three or four +days, the initiate remaining awake for one night. The leaves used are +the same as those of the first (fish-eating) ceremony. The third +important ceremony of these communities is the honey-eating. The +initiate sits cross-legged and honey is rubbed over his or her +shoulders and chest, and he or she is fed with it. + +I was told by one of my informants that in the Aka-Kede tribe the +pig-eating ceremony precedes the turtle-eating, but I could not obtain +reliable information about the ceremonies of this tribe. + +My informants of the Akar-Bale tribe, which consists of coast-dwelling +communities only, told me that the period of abstention begins with +turtle, honey, turtle’s eggs, yams, and a number of fruits and seeds. +This period lasts for three or four years. Then comes the turtle-eating +ceremony, which is said to be similar in its details to that already +described from the North Andaman. After this ceremony the initiate may +not eat dugong, porpoise and a considerable number of fishes (including +Tetrodon sp., Plotosus sp., Anguilla bengalensis, Trygon bleekari, T. +siphen, Urogymnus asperrimus, Carcharias gangeticus, etc.). He must +also abstain from turtle’s eggs, pig, yams, honey, and certain fruits +(e.g. Artocarpus chaplasha, Mimusops littoralis, Baccaurea sapida, +etc.). A few months after the turtle-eating ceremony there is a minor +ceremony of eating turtle’s eggs, the eggs being eaten in silence and +the meal followed by a dance. After another period follows the ceremony +of eating pig’s kidney-fat. Then, as opportunity occurs, the initiate +eats dugong, honey and the other forbidden foods, one after another. +The ceremony in each case is not elaborate except in connection with +such important foods as dugong and honey. + +Mr E. H. Man has given a description of the ceremonies of the Aka-Bea +tribe, which shows that they are essentially similar to those of the +North. He does not distinguish between the ceremonies of the aryoto +(coast-dwellers) and those of the eremtaga (jungle-dwellers). He states +that the fasting period (aka-yaba) is divided into three parts, the +first ending with the yadi- (turtle) gumul, the second with the aǰa- +(honey) gumul, and the third with the reg-ǰiri- (kidney-fat of pig) +gumul. + +As I was not able to witness the honey-eating ceremony, I venture to +reproduce below the description that Mr Man gives of this ceremony as +it is conducted in the Aka-Bea tribe. + +“When the honey fast is to be broken a quantity of honeycombs, +according to the number assembled, are on the appointed day procured: +the aka-yab being placed in the midst of the group, the chief or other +elder goes to him with a large honeycomb wrapped in leaves; after +helping the novice to a large mouthful, which he does by means of a +bamboo or iron knife, he presents the remainder to him, and then leaves +him to devour it in silence: this he does, not, however, by the +ordinary method, for it is an essential part of the ceremony that he +should not use his fingers to break off pieces, but eat it +bear-fashion, by holding the comb up to his mouth and attacking it with +his teeth and lips. After satisfying his present requirements, he wraps +what is left of the comb in leaves for later consumption. The chief +then takes another comb and anoints the youth by squeezing it over his +head, rubbing the honey well into his body as it trickles down. The +proceedings at this stage are interrupted by a bath, in order to remove +all traces of the honey, which would otherwise be a source of +considerable inconvenience by attracting ants. Beyond the observance of +silence, and continued abstention from reg-ǰiri (pig’s kidney-fat), the +youth is under no special restrictions, being able to eat, drink and +sleep as much as he pleases. Early the following morning the lad +decorates himself with leaves of a species of Alpinia, called ǰini +[61], and then, in the presence of his friends, goes into the sea (or, +if he be an eremtaga, into a creek) up to his waist, where, locking his +thumbs together, he splashes as much water as possible over himself and +the by-standers, occasionally ducking his head under the surface as +well. This is considered a safeguard or charm against snakes, and the +onlookers cry “o̱to-pedike, kinig wara-ǰobo lo̱tike” (Go and splash +yourself, or Wara-ǰobo [62] will get inside you), for they imagine that +unless they go through this splashing performance, this snake will by +some means enter their stomachs and so cause death. The only difference +between the sexes with respect to the aǰa-gumul is that with females it +cannot take place until after the birth of the first child; they are +also required to abstain from honey during each subsequent pregnancy; +and in their case, too, a chief or elder (preferably a relative) +officiates, and not a woman [63].” + +We may now proceed to the ritual customs connected with death and +burial. In all the Great Andaman tribes disease and death are supposed +to be due to the spirits of the jungle and the sea. The subject will be +dealt with in the next chapter. + +On the occurrence of a death the news quickly spreads through the camp, +and all the women collect round the body and, sitting down, weep loudly +until they are exhausted. The women then retire and the men come and +weep over the corpse. All the adult members of the community then +proceed to cover themselves with a wash of common clay smeared evenly +over their bodies and limbs. This clay is of the kind called odu in +Aka-J̌eru and og in Aka-Bea. The nearer relatives and more intimate +friends of the deceased also plaster some of the same clay on their +heads. + +Some of the women, generally, but not necessarily, relatives, remove +any ornaments the dead person may have been wearing, shave the head and +decorate the body. This decoration consists of lines of fine pattern in +white clay alternating with bands of red paint. A band of red paint is +placed across the upper lip passing from ear to ear and the ears +themselves are smeared with the pigment. The greater the estimation in +which the deceased person is held the greater is the care lavished upon +this the last decoration. + +Thus decorated the body is prepared for burial. The legs and arms are +flexed so that the knees come up under the chin and the fists rest +against the cheeks. A Cyrena shell (or sometimes in these days a steel +knife) is placed in the closed hand. A sleeping mat is wrapped round +the body, and over this a number of the large palm leaves known as ko̱bo +(Aka-J̌eru) are arranged and the whole is made into a bundle and tied up +with rope. Before the ropes are all tied the relatives of the dead +person take their last farewell by gently blowing on the face of the +corpse. + +The male relatives and friends then proceed to the spot selected for +the burial, one of them carrying the corpse slung on his back. If the +burial place can be reached by canoe, no hesitation is shown in making +use of a canoe for the purpose. There are not, so far as could be +discovered, any rules as to which of the men shall undertake the +burial. Such relatives as brother, father, son or husband generally +take the leading part. The women take no part in the actual burial. +There are two modes of disposing of the body, in a grave dug in the +ground, or upon a platform placed in a tree. The latter is considered +the more honourable form of burial, and is only adopted in the case of +a man or woman dying in the prime of life. The same grave is not used +twice, in the case of interment, though a new grave may be made close +to an old one. The natives said that the same tree might be used +several times for platform-burial, but there was no opportunity of +proving this statement. There are not, generally speaking, any regular +burying grounds. Any convenient spot may be chosen so long as it is at +some little distance from the camp. It does happen, however, that +certain spots are fairly regularly used. In the case of one burial that +I witnessed the spot chosen was about a mile distant from the camp, the +journey being made in a canoe, and there were already five or six +graves at the same place. + +In the case of interment a hole is dug three or four feet in depth, the +digging being done with an adze and a digging stick, and sometimes a +wooden dish is used to scoop out the soil. The body is placed in the +hole and the ropes tied round it are severed. The body is placed +slightly on its side facing the east. I asked some of the natives the +reason for this orientation, and was told that if the custom were not +observed the sun would not rise and the world would be left in +darkness. A pillow of wood is placed under the head, and a log of wood +at each side of the corpse. Sometimes some object that has been worn by +the deceased, such as a belt or necklace, is placed in the grave. The +soil is then replaced, all present helping. Beside the grave a fire is +lighted and some water contained in a bamboo vessel or in a nautilus +shell is left for the corpse. In some cases the bow belonging to the +deceased, if it be a man, and a few arrows are placed on the grave. In +the Aka-Čari tribe a harpoon and line are substituted for the bow and +arrows, and a bamboo harpoon shaft is erected vertically in the grave +near the right hand of the body. In the same tribe it is usual to +suspend near the grave a bundle of the prepared fibre of Anadendron +paniculatum such as is used for making thread. There are probably +slight variations of custom in this respect in different tribes or even +in different cases in the same tribe. + +In the case of platform-burial a platform of sticks is erected in a +tree, twelve feet or so above the ground, and the body is placed +thereon, lying sideways facing the east. Water and fire are placed +beneath the tree. Mr Man states that in cases of tree-burial they are +careful not to select a fruit tree or one of a species used for the +manufacture of their canoes, bows and other implements. Such natives as +I questioned on this point said that this was not so and that they +would use any suitable tree whether one that was useful or not. I was +unable definitely to prove the point, as I did not see a single +instance of tree-burial during my stay in the islands. A tree that is +sometimes used for this purpose is the Ficus laccifera, which as we +have seen has a special connection with the spirits of new-born +children. On the coast, mangrove trees, such as the Rhizophora or +Bruguiera, are said to be used. + +When the burial is completed, whether in a grave or a tree, plumes made +of shredded palm-leaf stem koro (Aka-J̌eru) or ara (Aka-Bea) are +attached near the graves to the branches of trees or shrubs or to +sticks put up for the purpose. This is done, it is said, to show any +native, who might inadvertently approach, that there has been a burial +at the spot. The undergrowth is cleared for a short distance round the +grave. + +The men then return to the camp, where the women have been busy packing +up all belongings. Plumes of shredded palm-leaf stem (koro) are put up +at the entrance to the camp, to show chance visitors that there has +been a death. The camp is then deserted, the natives moving to some +other camping ground until the period of mourning is over, when they +may, if they wish, return to the deserted village. No one goes near the +grave again until the period of mourning is over. + +In the case of very young children the burial ceremony is different. +There is no general mourning of the whole camp. Only the father and +mother and a few other relatives weep over the dead body. The head of +the corpse is shaved and the body is decorated in the same way as that +of an adult. The body is wrapped up in palm leaves (Licuala), the limbs +being flexed. The fire is then removed from its customary place and a +grave is dug there in the floor of the hut. In this the child’s body is +placed, the grave is filled in and the fire replaced above it. Not only +is the camp not deserted, but there seems to be an obligation on the +parents not to leave the place until the bones have been dug up, or at +any rate for some weeks after the death. If the mother went away, the +natives say, the baby would cry for its mother’s milk. This is the +custom of the Northern tribes. Referring to the Southern tribes, Mr Man +says that the baby is buried beneath the fireplace and the camp is then +deserted, the mother placing beside the grave a shell containing some +milk squeezed from her breasts. Some of my informants of the Southern +tribes (Akar-Bale, etc.) told me however that the camp would not be +deserted in the case of the death of an infant, thus contradicting Mr +Man’s statement. As there was no opportunity of testing the point by +reference to an actual case, it must be left as doubtful. In the +Northern tribes when an older child dies the body is buried away from +the camp, but the latter is not, at any rate in all instances, +deserted, though the hut in which the death occurred may be destroyed +and a new one built a short distance away. It is only in the case of +the death of an adult that the camp is abandoned. + +In connection with the burial of a baby beneath the hearth there is a +belief that the soul of the dead baby may re-enter the mother and be +born again. This would seem to be one of the reasons why the mother +does not leave the camp when her baby dies. + +Should a person die while on a visit, he or she is buried in the usual +way and news of the death and place of burial is sent to the relatives. +A stranger who dies or is killed is buried unceremoniously or is cast +into the sea. Among the Northern tribes the body of such a one used in +former days to be disposed of by cutting it into pieces and burning it +on a fire. The natives say that if this be done the ‘blood’ and the +‘fat’ of the dead man go up to the sky and this removes all danger to +the living from the dead man. The blood of persons so burnt is seen in +the sky at sunset. If a man were killed in a fight between two +communities and his body remained with the enemy, they would dispose of +it in this way. If the friends secured the body they would bury it in +the usual way. It may be worthy of remark that this custom of burning +the bodies of slain enemies is perhaps the real origin of the belief +that the Andamanese are or were cannibals. We can well imagine that +when, as must have often happened, sailors venturing to land on the +islands have been killed and the survivors have seen the bodies of +their companions cut up and placed on fires, they would readily +conclude that they were witnessing a cannibal feast. There can be no +doubt whatever that since the islands were occupied in 1858 the +inhabitants have not practised cannibalism, and there is no good reason +to suppose that they once followed the custom and then abandoned it. + +The burial is conducted, if possible, on the day of the death. If it +has to be deferred till the morrow all the inhabitants of the camp keep +awake. The relatives sit round the corpse weeping at intervals, while +some of the men take it in turn to sing songs during the hours of +darkness. This, so they say, is to keep away the spirits that have +caused the death, and so prevent them from further mischief. When a man +or woman dies in the prime of life after a short illness the friends +and relatives often break out in anger which they express in different +ways. A man will shout threats and curses at the spirits that he +conceives to be responsible for the death of his friend. He may pick up +his bow and discharge his arrows in all directions, or in some other +way give expression to his angry feelings. On the occasion of a death +in one of the Akar-Bale villages the relatives expressed their grief by +cutting down a coconut tree that grew there. + +The period of mourning for near relatives—parent, adult child, consort, +brother or sister—lasts for several months. In the case of a young +child only the parents mourn. The essentials of mourning are (1) the +use of clay (odu), and (2) abstention from certain foods, from dancing, +and from the use of white clay (to̱l) and red paint. As stated above, +every adult in the camp covers himself or herself with clay on the +death of an adult member of the community, but when this wears off, or +is washed off in the course of two or three days, it is not renewed. +The near relatives retain this covering of clay for many weeks, +constantly renewing it. The clay is smeared evenly over the body, and +is not put on in patterns, as on other occasions. The relatives, but +not the others, plaster some of the same clay on their heads. A widow +mourning for her husband covers her whole head with a thick layer of +clay, renewing it from time to time. For a lesser degree of mourning, +the custom is to plaster clay on the forehead only. After some weeks or +months of mourning, the near relatives discontinue the use of clay on +their bodies, but retain a band of clay over the forehead as shown in +Plates IX, X, and XVII. + +The name of the clay thus used is odu in the Northern languages, and a +mourner is called aka-odu. In the Aka-Bea language the name of the clay +is og and the term for a mourner is aka-og. + +During the period of mourning the name of the dead person is carefully +avoided and no one uses it. If it is necessary to refer to the dead +this is done by using some such phrase as “he who is buried by the big +rock” or “he who is laid in the fig tree” or by mentioning the name of +the place of burial. There is no prohibition against mentioning the +name itself in other connections. Thus if a man were called Buio, from +the name of a species of Mucuna, it is not necessary to avoid the word +buio when speaking of the plant. Further if there is another person +alive of the same name as the dead man it is not necessary to avoid the +name in referring to the living individual. The custom is that a dead +person must not be spoken of unless it is absolutely necessary, and +then must not be spoken of by name. After the period of mourning is +over the dead person may again be spoken of by name. + +During the period of mourning a near relative of the deceased is never +addressed or spoken of by name. There are certain terms which are used +for this purpose, being terms of address that can be substituted for +the names that are avoided. Thus in the Aka-J̌eru language one such term +is Bolok, meaning “orphan,” used in addressing or speaking of a person +who has lately lost a parent. Another term of the same language is +Ropuč, applicable to one who has lost a brother or sister. After the +period of mourning is over the use of the personal name of the mourner +is resumed. + +During the period of mourning the near relatives of the deceased are +required by custom to abstain from dancing and from using red paint or +white clay. The white clay here referred to is that called to̱l or +to̱l-odu in Aka-J̌eru and tala-og in Aka-Bea, and is used for decorating +the body on ceremonial occasions, such as that of a big dance. Further, +the mourners must abstain from eating certain foods. The customs with +regard to the foods to be avoided are different in different parts. +There is however the universal rule that coast-dwellers must not eat +turtle, and jungle-dwellers must avoid pork. Other foods that are +included amongst those to be avoided are dugong, certain fishes such as +that called komar in Aka-J̌eru, and in some parts yams and honey. + +The exact duration of the period of mourning is difficult to discover. +It seems to vary considerably in different cases. In all cases it must +last long enough for the flesh to decay from the bones. The proceedings +at the end of mourning consist of (1) digging up the bones of the dead +man or woman and (2) a dance in which all the mourners join. The bones +are generally dug up by the men who performed the burial. They cover +themselves with clay (odu) and proceed to the grave or tree and dig up +or take down the bones and weep over them. These are then washed in the +sea or a creek and are taken back to camp. Here they are received by +the women who weep over them in their turn. The skull and jawbone are +decorated with red paint and white clay, and each separately has a band +of ornamental netting attached to it so that it may be worn around the +neck. Additional ornament is frequently added in the form of strings of +Dentalium or other shells. The skulls and jawbones of deceased +relatives are preserved for a long time, and are worn round the neck +either in front or behind. The photograph in Plate XVIII shows a woman +wearing the skull of her deceased sister. Like all their other +possessions these relics are lent or exchanged, passing from one person +to another, until sometimes a skull may be found in the possession of a +man who does not know to whom it belonged. The other bones are also +preserved. The limb bones are generally painted with red paint and +white clay and are kept in the roof of the hut. They are not treasured +as much as the skull and jaw, and are often mislaid. Thus, while every +camp is sure to contain a number of skulls and jaw-bones it is +comparatively rarely that the limb bones are to be found. The other +bones are made into strings, such bones as those of the hand and foot +being used as they are, while ribs and vertebrae are broken up into +pieces of convenient size. The bones or pieces of bone are attached to +a length of rope by means of thread and the string thus produced is +often ornamented with the dried yellow skin of the Dendrobium and with +shells. The whole is covered with red paint. These strings of bone are +worn as cures for and preventives of illness. If a man has a head-ache, +for instance, he will attach one of the strings round his head. They +are in almost constant use in every camp and every man and woman is +sure to possess one or two. The bones are made into strings by the +female relatives of the deceased and are then given away as presents. + +In the North Andaman the skull of a baby is preserved by enclosing it +in a small basket just big enough to contain it, the top of the basket, +which is narrower than the lower part, being only finished after the +skull is placed inside, so that it cannot fall out and can only be +removed by unfastening the rim of the basket. Mr Man states that +children’s skulls are not carried in baskets, except temporarily as +when travelling, fishing, etc., but are preserved from injury by being +entirely covered with string [64]. This applies only to the tribes of +the South and Middle Andaman. + +At about the time that the bones are recovered there takes place a +special ceremony referred to as “taking off the clay” or “the shedding +of tears.” The object of this ceremony is to release the mourners from +the restrictions that they have had to observe. The ceremony takes +place in the evening, and an occasion is chosen when there are plenty +of people in the camp. The mourners, male and female, remove the odu +clay from their foreheads and decorate themselves with red paint and +white clay in the way described in connection with dancing. They also +put on what ornaments of Pandanus leaf or netting and Dentalium shell +they may possess or be able to borrow. When all the members of the camp +are assembled around the dancing ground one of the male mourners takes +his stand at the sounding-board and sings a song. This song does not +refer in any way to the dead man or woman; it is just an ordinary song +of hunting or canoe-cutting or any other subject, though it may have +been specially composed for the occasion. Those women who are not in +mourning sit near the singer and take up the chorus. When the song is +fairly started the mourners, male and female, begin to dance. There is +nothing special about the dance, which is exactly like any other dance. +After dancing for a short time the mourners seat themselves at one end +of the dancing ground and their friends begin to weep and wail. +Everybody present joins in the lamentation until they are tired. The +mourners then rise and again dance. After a time the women retire and +seat themselves with the chorus, but the men continue the dance (in +which they are joined by the other men present), till they are tired, +which often means till near dawn. After this ceremony the mourners are +free to eat any of the foods up till then forbidden, and are free once +more to use red paint and white clay and to take their part in all +dances and other festivities. + +It has been seen from the preceding descriptions that the Andamanese +have a number of ritual customs relating to food. There are certain +occasions in the life of every individual when he or she must abstain +from eating certain foods. A person mourning for the death of a +relative is subjected to restrictions of this kind, and so are the +parents of a new-born child for a short period before and after the +birth. A woman must not eat certain things when she is menstruating. +Restrictions as to diet are imposed by custom on all persons who are +ill. The most important restrictions, however, are those imposed on +every boy and girl during the period of adolescence. During this period +of life, as we have seen, the initiate is required to abstain for a +longer or shorter period from all the most important foods of the +Andamanese. + +Mr Man states that “every Andamanese man or woman is prohibited all +through life from eating some one (or more) fish or animal: in most +cases the forbidden dainty is one which in childhood was observed (or +imagined) by the mother to occasion some functional derangement; when +of an age to understand it the circumstance is explained, and cause and +effect being clearly demonstrated, the individual in question +thenceforth considers that particular meat his yat-tub, and avoids it +carefully. In cases where no evil consequences have resulted from +partaking of any kind of food, the fortunate person is privileged to +select his own yat-tub, and is of course shrewd enough to decide upon +some fish, such as shark or skate, which is little relished, and to +abstain from which consequently entails no exercise of self-denial +[65].” + +Although I made repeated enquiries amongst the natives of both the +North and the South Andaman I was not able to confirm this observation +of Mr Man. It is quite true that if a certain food is observed to +disagree with a child he or she is taught to avoid that food for the +rest of life, but it is not necessary for every person to have some +forbidden food. Many men told me that they were under no such +prohibition and might eat any food they liked, apart from the +restrictions on special occasions. On a minor point it may be noted +that skate and even shark are not by any means so little relished as +the statement of Mr Man would imply. The liver of skates and rays, and +even the liver of sharks is rather regarded as a delicacy. + +I noticed on several occasions that men would not eat certain foods +when they were away from their own part of the islands. Thus one man of +the North Andaman told me that he would not eat dugong when he was with +me in the South Andaman. Another said that though he would eat the fish +komar when he was at home, he would not eat it when he was in a strange +place, as at the Settlement of Port Blair, for fear that it would make +him ill. + +In the North Andaman I was told that when a dugong is caught and the +people feast on it they do not leave the camp till some hours after the +meat is all finished, either to go fishing or hunting. The reason they +give for this is that the spirits of the jungle and the sea may smell +them, attracted by the odour of the food they have eaten and may cause +them to be ill. They therefore remain in the camp and eat up all the +dugong and do not venture out till they begin to feel hungry and must +go in search of food. I believe that the same custom is observed in the +South Andaman also. + +A few other customs connected with food may be mentioned here. There is +only one way in which a turtle may be killed [66]. It must be laid on +its back with its head pointing towards the open sea, and a skewer of +wood is then thrust through the eye-socket into the brain. The natives +say that if a turtle were killed in any other way than this, the meat +would be “bad,” i.e., uneatable. + +Turtle meat may only be cooked on a fire of the wood of the Hibiscus +tiliaceus. + +A pig is killed as it runs, without ceremony, but there is one special +way in which it must be cut up. The pig is first disembowelled, and the +joints of the legs are severed. The abdominal cavity is then filled +with leaves, of which only certain special kinds are used. It is placed +on a fire and roasted whole, and is then cut up. Should the carcase be +cut up by any other than the traditional method, the natives believe +that the meat would be “bad,” and they would not eat it. + +A number of beliefs relating to vegetable foods will be mentioned in +the next chapter. + +In several of the ceremonies described in this chapter it will be +noticed that the weeping of relatives and friends occurs as an +essential part of the ceremony. The female relatives of a youth or girl +who is being initiated come and weep over him or her at the +turtle-eating ceremony. Their friends weep over, or with, the mourners +at the dance at the end of mourning. The friends of a bride and +bridegroom weep over them when they are married. The friends and +relatives weep over a corpse before it is buried and over the bones +when they are recovered. In all cases it is real weeping. The man or +woman sits down and wails or howls, and the tears stream down his or +her face. On one occasion I asked the natives to show how it was done +and two or three of them sat down and were immediately weeping real +tears at my request. The weeping in this way is really a ceremony or +rite. When two friends or relatives meet who have been separated from +one another for a few weeks or longer, they greet each other by sitting +down, one on the lap of the other, with their arms around each other’s +necks, and weeping and wailing for two or three minutes till they are +tired. Two brothers greet each other in this way, and so do father and +son, mother and son, mother and daughter, and husband and wife. When +husband and wife meet, it is the man who sits on the lap of the woman. +When two friends part from one another, one of them lifts up the hand +of the other towards his mouth and gently blows on it. + +Reference has already been made in this chapter to a number of customs +relating to personal names. It will be useful to bring together the +scattered references, and give a general account of the whole matter. + +Every Andaman Islander has a personal name that is given to him or her +before birth, and which we may speak of as the birth-name. As soon as a +woman realises that she is pregnant, she and her husband begin to think +of a name for the child. The name is selected by the parents, but the +suggestions of their friends and relatives are always considered. It is +regarded as a compliment to name the child after some man or woman. +Sometimes a man may request the parents that the child shall be named +after him, and such a request is rarely, if ever, refused. The names +given before birth are of course applicable to both sexes, there being +no difference between the names of men and those of women. There are a +considerable number of names in common use, but some of them are more +popular at a given time and place than others. It therefore happens +that there are several persons, both men and women, bearing the same +name. + +Each of the names in common use has a meaning, but it is not always +easy to obtain an adequate and accurate explanation of the meaning from +the natives themselves [67]. In a certain number the derivation is +obvious. Many names are the names of objects such as trees, fish or +other animals, or even such objects as rope or mats. A few examples +from the North Andaman are:— + + + Buio Mucuna sp., a plant with edible beans. + Bol Hibiscus tiliaceus. + Čop a tree with edible nuts. + Ko̱nmo Dioscorea sp. + Čokbi turtle. + Maro honey. + Meo a stone. + Čeo a knife. + Bani the oriole. + + +In the case of a number of names it is not possible to discover with +certainty the derivation, and the statements of the natives regarding +them do not always agree. Such names in the North Andaman, with their +meanings as stated by the natives, are:— + + + Kea one who turns in his sleep. + Bo̱ičo one who wrestles. + Elpe one who comes and goes. + Kiǰe̱ri one who walks backwards and forwards. + Nimi one who catches hold. + + +Some time after a child is born it is given a nick-name. Nick-names may +be given at any time of life, and some persons may have several +nick-names given to them at different times. New nick-names are from +time to time invented, but there are a certain number of recognized +names from which a choice is usually made. A few examples from the +North Andaman are:— + + + Ra-t’ot-betč pig’s hair. + Renya-čope much baggage, or many possessions. + Po̱ičo-tomo the wood (literally flesh) of the Sterculia + (po̱ičo) tree. + Lau-tei spirit blood. + Luremo rope. + Remu-to̱i a piece of iron. + Čokbi-čiro turtle liver. + Tarenǰek angry. + + +During childhood boys and girls are addressed by either the birth-name +or the nick-name. + +When a girl reaches the age of puberty she receives a new name. This is +one of a limited number of names, each of which is the name of a tree +or plant. The name given to the girl is that of the tree or plant that +is in flower at the time of her first menstruation. + +There is a succession of trees and plants flowering one after another +throughout the year. The natives describe the different parts of the +year by reference to the plants in flower at the time. The plants +selected as typical of the different seasons all have flowers from +which the native bees make honey. Each of them has a distinctive scent +and gives to the honey made from it a distinctive flavour. The +flower-names are given below in Aka-Bea and Aka-J̌eru. + + + Aka-Bea Aka-J̌eru + + Čilipa Čelibi From the middle of November to the middle of + February. + Moda Mukui } + Ora Oko̱r } + Jidga } From the middle of February to the middle of + Yere J̌eru } May, in order. + Pataka Bo̱tek } + Balya Puliu } + + Reče Re } From the middle of May to the end of August. + Čagara Čokoro } + + Čarapa Čarap } September, October and the first half of + Čenra To̱ro̱k? } November. + Yulu J̌ili } + + +From the time that a girl receives her flower-name her birth-name and +nick-name fall entirely out of use. No one would address an unmarried +girl by any name except the flower-name. This continues until some time +after the girl is married. Properly speaking a woman should be known by +her flower-name from the advent of puberty until after the birth of her +first child. In these days of childless women the flower-name drops out +of use after a few years of married life. After the birth of her first +child the woman is known by her birth-name or by a nick-name. Thus a +woman who was named before her birth Kaba (from kabal, a species of +mangrove) was called by that name until puberty; thereafter she was +called J̌ili (her flower-name) until the birth of her first child; after +this event she is again called Kaba, and no one would think of +addressing her as J̌ili. A woman named Ele (lightning) at birth was +known by this name until puberty, and thereafter was called Bo̱tek. When +I knew her she had been married for three years or so, but had not had +a child. A few of the younger men and women addressed her as Ele, but +the older people still called her Bo̱tek. If she should bear a child, +the name Bo̱tek would fall entirely out of use and she would be known as +Ele by both her juniors and her seniors. + +In the case of a boy there is nothing corresponding to the flower-names +of girls. He continues to be known by his birth-name and his nick-name +from the time he is born until he dies. During adolescence a youth has +to pass through certain ceremonies of initiation as described in the +present chapter. At the turtle-eating ceremony the youth is given a new +name, of the nature of a nick-name. The name given in this way is never +used either in addressing the youth or in speaking of him. It is +possible that he also receives a new name on the occasion of the +pig-eating ceremony, but of this I am not sure. Though girls pass +through the same ceremonies as boys, I did not discover whether or not +they also are given new names on these occasions. + +Names are used freely in speaking of and to one another. An older +person always speaks of or to the younger one by the name alone. When a +younger person is speaking to an older one it is customary and polite +to use one of the terms of address, either by itself, or prefixed to +the name of the person spoken to, as Maia Buio, Mimi Kaba, etc. A +native generally hesitates to tell his own name, and if asked the +question “What is your name?” often asks a bystander to give the +required information. There is, however, no hesitation about mentioning +the name of any other person, except under certain special conditions. + +There are certain occasions when the name of a man or woman is +temporarily avoided. After the death of a relative and during the +period of mourning, a mourner’s name is not mentioned, either in +speaking to him or of him. There are a few terms that may be used +instead. One who has lost a parent is addressed as Bolok, one who has +lost a brother or sister as Ropuč. For a short time before and after +the birth of a child the names of the father and mother are not +mentioned. A bride and bridegroom are not addressed or spoken of by +name for a short period after their marriage, though if their names be +A and B there seems to be no harm in referring to A as “the husband of +B,” or to B as “the wife of A.” During the initiation ceremonies +through which every boy and girl must pass, the name of the initiate is +avoided. Thus on the occasion of the turtle-eating ceremony or the +pig-eating ceremony, during the few days the ceremony lasts and for a +few weeks afterwards, the youth or girl is never addressed or spoken of +by name, but is referred to as Kimil. During the ceremony that takes +place on the occasion of the advent of puberty, and for some weeks +after, a girl is not spoken of or to either by her birth-name or her +flower-name, but is called Toto. When a boy, in the Northern tribes, +has the scars made on his back, which show him to be no longer a child, +his name is avoided for a few weeks and he is called Eǰido. + +The name of a dead man or woman is not mentioned during the period of +mourning, which lasts for some months after the death. + +In the preceding portions of the chapter reference has been made +several times to the ornamentation of the body with clay and pigment. +In the Great Andaman three different substances are used for painting +the body. These are (1) a common clay of which different specimens are +gray, yellow or pink, called odu in Aka-J̌eru and og in Aka-Bea; (2) a +fine white pipe-clay which is rarer than the common clay and is more +highly prized, called to̱l or to̱l-odu in Aka-J̌eru and tala-og in +Aka-Bea; (3) a red pigment made by mixing burnt oxide of iron with +animal or vegetable fat or oil, called keyip in Aka-J̌eru and ko̱iob in +Aka-Bea. + +The common clay (odu) is used in three different ways. After the death +of a relative a man or woman smears himself all over with this clay and +plasters it on his head. From this custom a person who is mourning for +a dead relative is called aka-odu in Aka-J̌eru or aka-og in Aka-Bea. The +same clay is used at a certain stage of the initiation ceremonies, as +described above, being spattered over the initiate in the turtle-eating +and pig-eating ceremonies. The third and most common use of this clay +is to decorate the bodies of men and women with patterns called (in +Aka-J̌eru) e̱ra-puli. These patterns are always made by the women, who +decorate each other and their male relatives. The clay is mixed with +water in a wooden dish or a shell and the mixture is applied to the +body with the fingers. There is an almost indefinite variety in the +patterns employed, although there are a certain number of what may be +called usual designs. Each woman vies with others in her endeavours to +produce some novelty of detail in her designs, and a successful +innovation is immediately copied by others. I was able to watch the +rise and development and ultimate disappearance of “fashions” in this +connection in one of the camps of the North Andaman. + +The design is made in one of two ways. It may, in some cases, be formed +by painting with the finger on the body, that is by tracing white (or +gray) lines on a black surface. A design of this kind is shown on the +back of the man on the right in the photograph of Plate XI. On the +other hand, an equally common method is to cover a part of the body +with an even smear of clay and then to scrape it away either with the +fingers or with a small fish-bone or with a little instrument made of +small strips of bamboo, so as to leave a design of black lines where +the skin shows through the smeared clay. Two not very striking designs +of this kind are shown in Plates IX and X. As a rule the designs are +more or less symmetrical, the right and the left sides of the body +being treated alike, but in a few cases different patterns are made on +the two sides, and I have seen a man with one side of his body painted +and the other not. The painting may cover the whole of the body and +limbs with the exception of the hands and feet, or it may be confined +to the front and back of the trunk, or it may be on the front only. The +face is often painted, the designs being made with greater care than +those on the body. + +These patterns are made in the afternoon after the men return from +their day’s hunting, and always either just before or just after a +meal. + +If a man be asked what pattern he is painted with, he replies by +mentioning the food that he has just eaten. A man who has been eating +turtle will say that the painting on his body is čokbi-t’e̱ra-puli, +turtle pattern, while if he has been eating pork he will call it +ra-t’e̱ra-puli, pig pattern. There is not, however, a strict uniformity +in the use of particular patterns in connection with special foods. +When the whole camp has been feasting on turtle many different and +(apparently) unrelated designs are to be seen on the bodies of the men +and women. I did not find it possible, even after a study of the +matter, to distinguish by means of the design a man who has been eating +turtle from one who has been eating pork. There is one design, or group +of closely related designs, that seemed to be based on the pattern of +the plates on a turtle’s carapace. A pattern of this distinctive kind +was never, so far as my experience went, used except after eating +turtle. Other patterns, however, which were used after eating turtle, +did not seem to me to be related in any way to what I may call the +specific turtle pattern. In some of the patterns used after eating pork +I noticed a tendency to make use of vertical lines or bands on the back +and chest. There may be a connection here with the longitudinal +markings on the back of the wild pig. + +Of special patterns I was only able to discover two. One of these is +called kimil-t’e̱ra-puli and is only used to paint a person who is +aka-kimil, i.e., who has just been through one of the initiation +ceremonies. This pattern is shown on the back of a man in the +photograph reproduced as Plate XI (the second figure from the left). +Another special pattern is called toto-t’e̱ra-puli (Pandanus pattern), +and is used, I believe, to decorate a girl after the ceremony at her +first menstruation. + +The fine white clay called to̱l-odu in Aka-J̌eru is used in a different +way and on different occasions. When it is used to ornament the body it +is always applied in one customary pattern. The name of this pattern in +Aka-J̌eru is o̱r-čubi-t’e̱ra-bat, from the name of a species of snake, +o̱r-čubi. Exactly the same name is used in A-Pučikwar, +wara-čupi-l’ar-par. Mr Man gives the Aka-Bea name as ǰobo-tartaŋa, from +ǰobo the name for snake in general. A man decorated with this “snake +pattern,” as it may be called, is shown in Plate XII, and a pattern of +the same kind is shown on the head of the man in Plate XIII. The +pattern is built up of zig-zag lines. They are made by taking a little +of the clay mixed with water between the thumb and first finger; by a +movement of the thumb the space between the nail and the skin of the +finger is filled with the clay, and the end of the finger is then +applied to the skin so that it leaves a short and fine line of clay. A +zig-zag line is thus built up of short lines each a finger’s breadth in +length. A second line is then added, not parallel to the first, but +opposed to it, so that the two lines together form a row of lozenges. A +third and sometimes a fourth or fifth line are similarly added. As +shown in Plate XII the lines of pattern are carried down the front of +the body, down the sides of the arms, and down the front of the legs, +and they are similarly worked on the back of the body, and the back of +the legs. The face also is decorated. These patterns are made by the +women. It is one of the duties of a wife to decorate her husband in +this way when occasion requires. + +The only reason that the natives give for ornamenting themselves in +this way is that it makes them “look well.” On the occasion of a big +dance many of the performers are thus ornamented. This is always so at +the dances held when two or more local groups meet together. There are +certain special occasions, already mentioned in this chapter, when the +use of the “snake pattern” is required by custom. One of these is the +dance at the end of mourning. During the period of mourning the +mourners are forbidden to make use of this form of decoration. The same +pattern is used to decorate a bride and bridegroom after their +marriage. In the initiation ceremonies the youth or girl is decorated +in this way before the dances at the turtle-eating and pig-eating +ceremonies. The same pattern is also made on a corpse before burial. + +In all these cases the whole body is decorated. On less ceremonial +occasions, such as an ordinary dance when there are no visitors of +importance in the camp, a man frequently has his face alone decorated +with white clay, as in the photograph of Plate XIII. + +The third kind of material used for painting the body is red paint. +This is applied in two different ways. When a man or woman is ill he or +she is generally to be seen with some part of his body smeared with red +paint. For colds and coughs the chest and neck are painted. In fevers +red paint is smeared on the upper lip. Besides the medical use of red +paint, if we may call it so, there is a ceremonial use, the pigment +being used in combination with white clay, lines of red paint being +applied to the body between the lines of clay of the snake pattern. It +is used in this way to decorate the body of a dead person for burial, +and on ceremonial occasions such as the dance at the end of mourning +and the dances in connection with the initiation ceremonies. + +Most of the ornaments worn at various times by the Andaman Islanders +have a ceremonial or a magical purpose. The only things worn by men +that can be considered to have a utilitarian value are the belt of rope +and the necklet of string. The belt may be a plain piece of rope, or it +may be ornamented with the yellow skin of a species of Dendrobium. It +serves as a receptacle in which the natives carry such things as adzes, +fish, roots, or even arrows. It is the one object that is constantly +worn by men. The string necklet is simply a length of thin string tied +round the neck. It serves as a means of carrying a knife and skewer. +The knife, in former days made of a slip of cane, but in these times +from a piece of scrap iron, is attached to a skewer of Areca wood by a +short length of rope or stout string. By sliding either the knife or +the skewer under the necklet at the back of the neck the double +implement hangs securely in a position where it is not likely to get +lost when running through the jungle, and where it is immediately +accessible when wanted. The necklet also serves as a means of carrying +bees’-wax, which is in constant use amongst the natives, a small ball +of the wax being attached to one of the ends of the string of which the +necklet is made. + +As a rule, in everyday life, the men wear only a belt, or a belt and +necklace. Those natives who visit the Settlement of Port Blair have +been required by the European officers to wear a strip of cloth over +the genitals. It has now become the rule to wear such a loin cloth +whenever they are in the neighbourhood of a European. This, however, is +a modern custom, and in former times the men went freely with no +covering whatever, as do the inhabitants of the Little Andaman at the +present time. As showing the extent to which the natives have been +influenced in this matter by outside opinion, it may be mentioned that +at the present day many of the younger men, particularly those who have +been brought up at Port Blair, regard it as very immodest to be seen +without some covering over the genitals. + +On ceremonial occasions, such as the dance at the end of mourning, or a +big dance-meeting, the men put on a number of ornaments. A common +costume on such occasions consists of a belt, necklace, bracelets, and +garters of netting and Dentalium shell. A belt and necklace of this +kind are to be seen in Plate V, and garters are worn by the woman in +Plate IX. An alternative costume for men consists of a set of ornaments +of Pandanus leaf (belt, chaplet, bracelets and garters), decorated with +Dentalium and other shells. Garters of this kind are shown in Plate +XII. + +Other objects are worn by the natives for magical purposes. Chief +amongst these are the strings made of human bones which are worn to +prevent and cure sickness. The bones are attached to a length of rope, +and this is generally decorated with shells or with Dendrobium skin. +These strings of bones are worn most commonly as chaplets, necklaces or +belts, but they may also be made into garters and bracelets. The bones +of animals, such as pig, turtle, dugong, etc., are treated in exactly +the same way as human bones, and ornaments made of them are commonly +worn. + +There are a number of other ornaments that are commonly worn, not only +on ceremonial occasions, which, unlike the strings of human bones, do +not obviously have a magical purpose. Such are necklaces made of +various kinds of shells, and of mangrove seeds. At the present time the +natives obtain beads from Port Blair and make ornaments of these. + +The ordinary costume of the women is different from that of the men. +Every woman and girl wears at least one belt of Pandanus leaf. There is +one kind of belt that is always worn by married women and which may not +be worn by unmarried girls. There is another kind of belt that may only +be worn by unmarried girls. The women of the Southern tribes wear a +bundle of leaves of the Mimusops littoralis laid one over another +suspended from the front of the belt so as to cover the pudenda. In the +Northern tribes it was formerly the custom for the women to wear a +similar apron of the leaves of a plant called čainyo, and over this +they also wore a tassel of shredded palm-leaf stem (koro). Within +recent years the Northern tribes have given up their own custom in this +matter and have adopted the custom of the Southern tribes. + +Women often wear round the neck a piece of string similar to that worn +by the men, but as they do not carry knives it does not serve the same +purpose. It is more usual for a woman to wear a necklace of some sort. +Nowadays they are rather fond of necklaces of beads which they obtain +from the Settlement at Port Blair. In former times different kinds of +shells were used, such as the Dentalium octogonum. + +With the exception that men wear the belt of rope, and women wear the +belt of Pandanus leaf and the apron of leaves, there is no difference +between the ornaments worn by men and by women. On the occasion of a +dance or other ceremony a woman may wear any of the objects described +as being worn by men on such occasions. They also wear in the same way +strings of human or animal bones. + +One object which would seem to have a purely utilitarian purpose is the +sling used for carrying children (called in Aka-J̌eru čiba). This +object, however, seems to have its ceremonial uses also. In one of the +initiation ceremonies that I saw, the man who was officiating wore such +a sling round his shoulders during the ceremony. + +In the earlier parts of this chapter reference has been made several +times to the dance of the Andaman Islanders. For the natives the dance +is both a means of enjoyment and also a ceremony. The period of +mourning for the dead is brought to a close by a dance, in which all +the mourners join. As will be shown later, a dance was generally held +before a fight, in former times when fights occurred. The ceremony by +which two hostile local groups made peace with one another was a dance. + +In the initiation ceremonies there are special dances, which have +already been described, in connection with the pig-eating and +turtle-eating ceremonies. With the exception of these special dances, +and the peace-making dance to be described later, there is only one +kind of dance in any given tribe. Thus the dance at the end of +mourning, or before setting out on an attack on enemies, is in all +essentials exactly the same as the dance in which the natives indulge +when the day’s hunting has been successful and the evening is fine. + +The time for dancing, except in connection with certain ceremonies, is +at night, after the evening meal. The dance takes place on the open +ground in the centre of the village. This is swept clean by the women +and the younger men. One or two fires are lighted, and little heaps of +resin are placed in convenient situations to provide lights. These have +to be replenished from time to time as the dance proceeds. Near one end +of the dancing ground is placed a sounding-board, upon which it is the +duty of one man to beat time with his foot. A sounding-board is a piece +of wood somewhat of the shape of a large shield, cut from the hard +Pterocarpus tree. One is shown in Plate VI. Behind the sounding-board, +or a little to one side of it, the women, who form the chorus, sit in a +row, with their legs stretched out in front of them, facing the +dancing-ground. The men who intend to dance sit or stand round the edge +of the space reserved for the dance. + +When all is ready a man who has volunteered to sing the first song +takes his stand at the sounding-board, and sings his song through. When +he reaches the chorus the women take it up and repeat it after him, and +as they do so each woman marks time by clapping her hands on the hollow +formed by her thighs, the legs being crossed one over the other at the +ankle. The singer continues to sing, thus leading the chorus, and at +the same time marks the time of the song by beating on the +sounding-board with his foot. As soon as the chorus begins the dancers +begin to dance. The step of each dancer is the same, but there is very +little attempt to form a figure. When the singer and the chorus get +tired, the singing ceases, but the man at the sounding-board continues +to mark time for the dancers. The singer repeats his song several +times, and he may sing several songs, each repeated several times. When +he gets tired he is relieved by another man. In a dance that lasts for +any time, one singer succeeds another, and the singing and dancing are +kept up continuously, sometimes for five or six hours. + +The above description applies to all the tribes of the Great Andaman, +but there are some differences between the four tribes of the North +Andaman, and the tribes of the Middle and South Andaman. + +In the North Andaman the song is sung through once from beginning to +end by the singer, and is then repeated three or four times by the +chorus. In the South Andaman each song consists of one verse and a +refrain, if we may speak of them thus. The singer sings the verse and +the refrain, and then the refrain only is repeated an indefinite number +of times by the chorus. + +In the dance of the Southern tribes, each dancer dances alternately on +the right foot or on the left. When dancing on the right foot the first +movement is a slight hop with the right foot, then the left foot is +raised and brought down with a backward scrape along the ground, then +another hop on the right foot. These three movements, which occupy the +time of two beats of the song, are repeated until the right leg is +tired, and the dancer then changes the movement to a hop with the left +foot, followed by a scrape with the right and another hop with the +left. The time of the movement is as follows, the upper line being the +rhythm of the dance, while the lower line shows the beats of the song, +which is marked on the sounding-board and by the clapping of the women. + + [Music Notes] or [Music Notes] + +The body of the dancer is bent slightly forward from the hips, the legs +being flexed at the knees and the back being curved well inwards. There +are several ways of holding the hands and arms, one of the commonest +being to hold the arms outstretched in front on a level with the +shoulders, while the thumb and forefinger of one hand are interlocked +with those of the other. When a man does not wish to cease altogether +from dancing but desires to have a short rest, he marks the time by +raising each heel alternately from the ground. As a man dances he +remains in one spot for a short time, and then, still continuing the +same step, moves for a yard or two around the circle of the dancing +ground. Every now and then a dancer is to be seen trotting from one +position to another across the dancing ground, abandoning the step of +the dance, but still keeping time to the song. + +The Northern tribes have now adopted the same kind of dance as the +tribes of the South, but formerly their dance was slightly different. +There was a little more attempt at forming a figure, the dancers moving +for the most part in a circle, some in one direction and others in the +other. The step was as follows: a step forward with the right foot, a +hop on the right foot, a scrape with the left, then another hop with +the right, a step forward with the left foot, a hop with the left, a +scrape with the right and a hop with the left. The rhythm is as +follows:— + + [Music Notes] + +The lower line shows the beats on the sounding-board. + +Some of the dancers occasionally break into the regular Southern step. +A dancer sometimes changes from the usual step to another called ko̱i, +in which each foot is alternately struck on the ground and scraped +backwards. Other slight variations of the movement may be introduced. + +In both the Southern and the Northern dance each dancer pleases himself +as to the direction in which he moves, and the step that he adopts at +any given moment. All the dancers, however independently of one another +they dance, keep strict time to the music. + +Women do not, as a rule, join in the ordinary dances held in the +evening. Their share in the entertainment consists of forming the +chorus. When they do dance, as they do on certain occasions, such as +the dance at the end of mourning, their step is different from that of +the men. In the Southern tribes the female dancer stands at one spot +with knees flexed and lifts her heels alternately from the ground in +time to the music, thus producing a slight swaying or swinging motion +of the hips. After dancing thus at one spot for a few moments, she +moves forward a few steps to a new position, keeping time to the music +in all her movements, and then repeats the same performance. The arms +are swung in time to the dance, or else are held before the breast with +one wrist crossed over the other. + +In the Northern tribes the common dance of the women is a sort of +modification of that of the men. A woman advances across the ground in +regular time, but at every third step she gives a peculiar little hop +which has something of the effect of a bobbing curtsey. The time is as +follows:— + + [Music Notes] + +l and r standing for left and right foot, and the accent indicating the +hop or curtsey. Every now and then a dancer stops and remains at one +spot, alternately scraping each foot backwards, holding her knees +flexed, and swinging both arms together. + +The ordinary dance of the Andamanese, as described above, must always +be accompanied by a song, and the purpose of every song is to serve as +the accompaniment to a dance. Every man composes his own songs. No one +would ever sing (at a dance) a song composed by any other person. There +are no traditional songs. Women occasionally compose songs, but I never +heard a woman sing at a dance except in the chorus. + +Every man composes songs, and the boys begin to practise themselves in +the art of composition when they are still young. A man composes his +song as he cuts a canoe or a bow or as he paddles a canoe, singing it +over softly to himself, until he is satisfied with it. He then awaits +an opportunity to sing it in public, and for this he has to wait for a +dance. Before the dance he takes care to teach the chorus to one or two +of his female relatives so that they can lead the chorus of women. He +sings his song, and if it is successful he repeats it several times, +and thereafter it becomes part of his repertory, for every man of any +age has a repertory of songs that he is prepared to repeat at any time. +If the song is not successful, if the chorus and dancers do not like +it, the composer abandons it and does not repeat it. Some men are +recognized as being more skilful song-makers than others. + +The songs all deal with everyday subjects such as hunting or cutting a +canoe. The important thing about a song is not its sense, but its +sound, i.e., its rhythm and melody. A translation of an Akar-Bale song, +which is quite typical, is “Po̱io, the son of Mam Golat, wants to know +when I am going to finish my canoe. He comes every day. That is why I +make haste to get it launched as soon as possible.” Another on the same +subject runs: “Knots are very hard to cut with an adze. They blunt the +edge of the adze. How hard I am working cutting these knots.” The +singer here refers to the cutting of a canoe. A number of songs in the +native languages with translations, are given by Mr Portman [68]. To +these the reader may refer for further information. + +According to the statements of the natives it was formerly the custom +to have a dance before setting out to a fight. There was no special +war-dance, the warriors joining in an ordinary dance such as has just +been described. Those who intended to take part in the attack on their +enemies, i.e., all the able-bodied adult males, decorated themselves +with red paint and white clay, and put on ornaments of Pandanus leaf or +netting and shells. Each man held in his hands or placed in his belt or +head-dress plumes of shredded Tetranthera wood (called čelmo in +Aka-J̌eru, uǰ in Aka-Bea). These plumes of shredded wood are now often +worn or carried in an ordinary dance, but I believe that in former +times they were the distinctive sign of a war-dance. To make them, a +short length of the wood is taken (generally a piece of an old broken +pig-arrow) and the wood is carefully shredded with a Cyrena shell, care +being taken not to break any of the longitudinal fibres. One end is +then tied with a piece of string or fibre. Similar plumes are made from +Pandanus wood, and are carried or worn in a similar manner. + +When the attacking party set out from their village each man wears a +plume of shredded Tetranthera wood thrust into the back of his belt. +They rub their bows with the shredded wood, and say that this has the +effect of making their own bows shoot well and those of their enemies +shoot badly. + +If a man kills another in a fight between two villages, or in a private +quarrel, he leaves his village and goes to live by himself in the +jungle, where he must stay for some weeks, or even months. His wife, +and one or two of his friends may live with him or visit him and attend +to his wants. For some weeks the homicide must observe a rigorous tabu. +He must not handle a bow or arrow. He must not feed himself or touch +any food with his hands, but must be fed by his wife or a friend. He +must keep his neck and upper lip covered with red paint, and must wear +plumes of shredded Tetranthera wood (čelmo) in his belt before and +behind, and in his necklace at the back of his neck. If he breaks any +of these rules it is supposed that the spirit of the man he has killed +will cause him to be ill. At the end of a few weeks the homicide +undergoes a sort of purification ceremony. His hands are first rubbed +with white clay (to̱l-odu) and then with red paint. After this he may +wash his hands and may then feed himself with his hands and may handle +bows and arrows. He retains the plumes of shredded wood for a year or +so. + +In the North Andaman, and possibly in the South also, there was a +ceremony by which two hostile local groups made peace with one another. +When the two groups have agreed to make friends and bring their quarrel +to an end, arrangements are made for this ceremony. The arrangements +are made through the women of the two parties. A day is fixed for the +ceremony, which takes place in the country of the group that made the +last attack. In the village of this group the dancing ground is +prepared, and across it is erected what is called a koro-čop. Posts are +put up in a line, to the tops of these is attached a length of strong +cane, and from the cane are suspended bundles of shredded palm-leaf +(koro). The appearance of this construction may be seen from the +photograph reproduced in Plate XIX. The women of the camp keep a +look-out for the approach of the visitors. When they are known to be +near the camp, the women sit down on one side of the dancing ground, +and the men take up positions in front of the decorated cane. Each man +stands with his back against the koro-čop, with his arms stretched out +sideways along the top of it. None of them has any weapons. + +The visitors, who are, if we may so put it, the forgiving party, while +the home party are those who have committed the last act of hostility, +advance into the camp dancing, the step being that of the ordinary +dance. The women of the home party mark the time of the dance by +clapping their hands on their thighs. I was told that the visitors +carry their weapons with them, but when the dance was performed at my +request the dancers were without weapons. The visitors dance forward in +front of the men standing at the koro-čop, and then, still dancing all +the time, pass backwards and forwards between the standing men, bending +their heads as they pass beneath the suspended cane. The dancers make +threatening gestures at the men standing at the koro-čop, and every now +and then break into a shrill shout. The men at the koro stand silent +and motionless and are expected to show no sign of fear. + +After they have been dancing thus for a little time, the leader of the +dancers approaches the man at one end of the koro and, taking him by +the shoulders from the front, leaps vigorously up and down to the time +of the dance, thus giving the man he holds a good shaking. The leader +then passes on to the next man in the row while another of the dancers +goes through the same performance with the first man. This is continued +until each of the dancers has “shaken” each of the standing men. The +dancers then pass under the koro and shake their enemies in the same +manner from the back. After a little more dancing the dancers retire, +and the women of the visiting group come forward and dance in much the +same way that the men have done, each woman giving each of the men of +the other group a good shaking. + +When the women have been through their dance the two parties of men and +women sit down and weep together. + +The two groups remain camped together for a few days, spending the time +in hunting and dancing together. Presents are exchanged, as at the +ordinary meetings of different groups. The men of the two groups +exchange bows with one another. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +RELIGIOUS AND MAGICAL BELIEFS + + +The Andaman Islanders believe in the existence of a class of +supernatural beings which I propose to denote by the term “spirits.” +The native name for these spirits is lau, lao or yau in the languages +of the North and Middle Andaman, and čauga in the South Andaman. While +all spirits are denoted together by the term lau or čauga, there are +certain special classes of spirits. There are, for instance, spirits +that haunt the jungles of the islands. These are called in the North +Andaman Ti-miku Lau, from the word ti-miku meaning the forest, or more +accurately “land.” (The only land known to the Andamanese is covered +with forest.) In Aka-Bea the name for these jungle spirits is E̱rem +Čauga, the word e̱rem being the equivalent in that language of the +Northern ti-miku. In the North Andaman the Ti-miku Lau are often called +Bido Teč Lau, i.e., spirits of the Calamus leaf, bido being the name of +the Calamus tigrinus. This cane is armed with strong thorns, and in +some parts of the jungle forms absolutely impenetrable thickets. The +natives say that the spirits haunt these thickets, and hence their +name. + +There are other spirits that live in the sea. Although these may be +included under the term Lau or Čauga, when it is used in a general +sense, yet there is a special name for the sea spirits, J̌urua in the +North Andaman, and J̌uruwin in Aka-Bea. The J̌urua are beings of the same +nature as the Ti-miku Lau, with the difference that they live in the +sea, while the latter live in the forest. + +In the South Andaman the natives also speak of another class of spirits +who live in the sky and are called Mo̱rua or Mo̱rowin. + + +When an Andamanese man or woman dies he or she becomes a spirit, i.e., +a Lau or Čauga. The bones of a dead person, which are dug up after the +flesh has decayed, are called Lau to̱i in the North Andaman, to̱i being +the word for “bone.” The skull is Lau t’e̱r-čo, from the word e̱r-čo +meaning “head.” Exactly similar terms are in use in Aka-Bea, the bones +of a dead man being called Čauga ta (spirit bones). + +The Andamanese relate legends, to be described in the next chapter, +which concern the doings of mythical ancestors. As all Andamanese, when +they die, become Lau, these ancestors are of course included under that +term. They are often distinguished from the spirits of persons recently +dead by being denoted as Lau t’e̱r-kuro, from the word e̱r-kuro meaning +“big,” and applied to human beings to denote importance of social +position. Just as a man who occupies a prominent position in his tribe +is called a “big” man (e̱r-kuro), so the ancestors of the Andamanese +legends are called “big” spirits. The Aka-Bea use a similar term, Čauga +tabaŋa, to distinguish the ancestors from the spirits of ordinary +persons. + +The name Lau or Čauga is also applied by the Andamanese to the natives +of India and Burma whom they see in the Penal Settlement of Port Blair. +The Aka-J̌eru name for the Penal Settlement is Lau-t’ara-nyu, literally +“the village of the spirits.” At the present time the term Lau or Čauga +is not applied to Europeans, who are generally spoken of in the North +Andaman by the Hindustani word “sahib.” Natives of the North Andaman +told me that in former times (before 1875) they applied the term Lau to +Europeans also not distinguishing them from other light-skinned aliens. +The necessity for distinguishing between Asiatics, such as natives of +India, and Europeans, has only arisen since they have come to have +dealings with the Penal Settlement. + +The term Lau is not applied by the Andamanese to aliens of their own +race. Nor would it be applied, I believe, to men of other black races +such as the African negro. I showed the natives photographs of Semang +from the Malay Peninsula and also of natives of Africa and New Guinea, +and in all cases they called them J̌a̤rawa, that being the term applied +by the Great Andaman tribes to the natives of the Little Andaman. On +the other hand they called Polynesians Lau. + +For many centuries the Andaman Islanders have been accustomed to see +light-skinned men visit their shores in ships, Europeans, natives from +the coasts of India, Burma and Malaya, and occasionally perhaps +Chinese. To these aliens they gave the name of Lau, apparently +regarding them as visitors from the only other world they knew of, the +world of spirits [69]. The clothes that these “spirits” wore they +called Lau ot-ǰulu, the word ot-ǰulu meaning “cold.” + +The spirits of the forest and the sea are believed to be generally +invisible, but there are tales of men and women who have seen them, and +their personal appearance is sometimes described. The descriptions vary +considerably from one informant to another. One of the commonest +statements is that they are light or white skinned. (The Andamanese +vocabulary does not allow of any distinction between white and a light +gray or a light shade of colour.) One man, however, said that the +forest spirits are black (or dark), while the sea spirits are white (or +light). I was told several times that the spirits have long hair and +beards (the Andamanese having, as a rule, no beard, and their hair, +being frizzy, never growing to any length). Their arms and legs are +said to be abnormally long, while they have only small bodies. Though +there is no uniformity in the way in which the natives describe the +spirits of the jungle and the sea, there is a notable tendency to +associate them with the grotesque, the ugly, and the fearful. There is +a common belief that the spirits, both of the jungle and of the sea, +carry about with them lights, which several men and women claim to have +seen. + +In reply to the question as to how the spirits of the forest and the +sea originated, the natives all agree in saying that they are the +spirits of dead men and women. + +The jungle spirits live in a village (or villages) in the forest. There +is a belief that mortals wandering by themselves in the jungle have +been captured by the spirits. Should the captive show any fear, my +informants said, the spirits would kill him, but if he were brave they +would take him to their village, detaining him for a time, and then +releasing him to return to his friends. A man to whom such an adventure +has happened will be endowed for the rest of his life with power to +perform magic. He will pay occasional visits to his friends the +spirits. The natives told me of one such man who died not many years +ago. At irregular intervals he used to wander off into the jungle by +himself and remain absent for a few hours, sometimes for a day or two. +He returned to the village after such an absence looking strange and +wearing ornaments of shredded palm-leaf (koro) which he claimed had +been placed upon him by the spirits. + +Save for persons who have made friends with them, and have thereby +become endowed with magical powers, all contact with the spirits of the +jungle and the sea, or with the spirit of a dead man, is dangerous. The +spirits are believed to be the cause of all sickness and of all deaths +resulting from sickness. As a man wanders in the jungle or by the sea, +the spirits come invisibly and strike him, whereupon he falls ill, and +may die. A man or woman is more likely to be attacked by the spirits if +he or she is alone, and it is therefore always better to be in company +when away from the village. The spirits rarely venture into the village +itself, though they may prowl round it, particularly at night. They are +more dangerous at night than during the day. + +There are many objects that are believed to have the power of keeping +spirits at a distance, and thus of preserving human beings from the +danger of sickness. Amongst the most important of these are fire, +arrows, human bones, bees’-wax, and red paint. A man or a woman leaving +a hut to go only a few yards at night will always carry a fire-brand as +a protection against spirits that may be prowling in the neighbourhood. +If the night be dark a torch is carried in addition to the fire-stick. + +The Andamanese will never whistle at night, as they believe that the +noise of whistling would attract spirits. On the other hand they +believe that singing will keep the spirits away. + +The spirits that haunt the woods and waters of a man’s own home are +regarded as being less dangerous to him than those of a country in +which he is a stranger. A man of the Aka-Čari tribe who was with me in +Rutland Island had a cold on his chest. He asked me for permission to +return to his own country, explaining that the spirits of Rutland +Island were, so to speak, at enmity with him, and that if he stayed +longer he would be seriously ill, and perhaps die, while on the other +hand, the spirits of his own country were friendly towards him, and +once he was amongst them he would quickly recover. + +There is a belief that the spirits feed on the flesh of dead men and +women. The jungle spirits eat those who are buried on land, and the +J̌urua devour those who are drowned or otherwise lost in the sea. + +Mr Man’s account of the spirits of the jungle and sea contains an +important error, which needs to be pointed out. He writes as though +there were only one E̱rem Čauga (jungle spirit) and only one J̌uruwin +(sea spirit), whereas each of these names is the name not of a single +individual but of a class of supernatural beings of which there is an +indefinite number. The following is Mr Man’s account:—E̱rem-čauga-la, +the “evil spirit of the woods, has a numerous progeny by his wife Čana +Badgi-lola, who remains at home with her daughters and younger +children, while her husband and grown up sons roam about the jungles +with a lighted torch attached to their left legs, in order that the +former may injure any unhappy wights who may meet them unprotected, and +in the dark; he generally makes his victims ill, or kills them by +wounding them internally with invisible arrows, and if he is successful +in causing death, it is supposed that they feast upon the raw flesh.” +“As regards J̌uruwin, the evil spirit of the sea, they say that he too +is invisible, and lives in the sea with his wife and children, who help +him to devour the bodies of those who are drowned or buried at sea; +fish constitute the staple of his food, but he also occasionally, by +way of variety, attacks the aborigines he finds fishing on the shores +or by the creeks. The weapon he uses is a spear, and persons who are +seized with cramp or any sudden illness, on returning from, or while on +the water are said to have been ‘speared’ by J̌uruwin. He has various +submarine residences, and boats for travelling under the surface of the +sea, while he carries with him a net, in which he places all the +victims, human or piscine, he may succeed in capturing [70].” + +Mr Portman correctly translates the word J̌uruwin as meaning “the +spirits of the sea” using the plural and not the singular [71]. + +Further references to the Andamanese beliefs about the spirits will be +found later in the chapter. It is necessary at this point to consider +an entirely different class of beings. + +The Andaman Islanders personify the phenomena of nature with which they +are acquainted, such as the sun and the moon. Before relating in detail +what could be learnt about their beliefs on these matters, it is +necessary to call attention to one feature of these beliefs. Different +statements, not only of different informants, but even of the same +informant, are often quite contradictory. For example, it is sometimes +said that lightning is a person, and at other times it is said that +lightning is a fire-brand thrown across the sky by a mythical being +named Biliku. These two statements, which to all logical thinking are +incompatible, are both given, and apparently both equally believed, by +the same person. Many examples of such contradictions will be found in +what follows, and it is important to point out their existence +beforehand. + +About the sun and moon, the most usual statement in all the tribes is +that the sun is the wife of the moon and the stars are their children. +In the North Andaman the moon is Maia Dula (Aka-Čari) or Maia Čirikli +(Aka-J̌eru), the sun is Mimi Diu and their children the stars are Čatlo, +the larger ones, and Katań the smaller. Čatlo is the name of a species +of finely marked beetle, and katań is the name of the common fire-fly. +Individual stars or constellations are not recognized. + +Another version from the same tribes is that the moon (Dula) is female, +and has a husband named Maia Tok, while the sun (Diu or To̱rodiu) is +male. + +In the Aka-J̌eru tribe there is a belief that the moon (Maia Čirikli) +can, when he wishes, turn himself into a pig, and come down to earth +and feed on the things that the pigs eat. There is a legend that on one +occasion the moon thus turned himself into a pig and came down to earth +to eat the čuei fruit. A man named Maia Čoinyop met the moon (in the +form of a pig) in the forest, and shot him with an arrow. Čirikli (the +moon) took out his knife and killed the unfortunate Čoinyop, cutting +off his head, which he left behind, and taking the body up to the sky +where he ate it. + +In the A-Pučikwar tribe the most common statement is that the moon +(Puki) is male and that the sun (Puto) is his wife. A different +statement from the same tribe is that the moon is female and is the +wife of a being named Tomo. Tomo seems to be to some extent identified +with the sun. Thus one informant said that it is Tomo who sends the +fine weather, and that it is he who sends the daylight every day. Where +Tomo lives, in the sky, it is always day and is always fine. When the +natives die their spirits go up to the sky and live with Tomo. We shall +see in the next chapter that, according to some of the legends, Tomo is +the first ancestor of the Andamanese. + +Yet another version is that the moon was made by Tomo out of opalescent +stone, and it is Tomo who, in some way, regulates its passage across +the sky. + +A belief about the moon which is found in all the tribes, both of the +North and the South, is that he will be very angry if there is any +fire, or any bright light, visible when he rises in the evening shortly +after sundown. At such times the natives are careful to cover up their +fires so that they only smoulder without flame. Mr Man refers to this +custom. “From fear of displeasing Maia Ogar (Mr Moon), during the first +few evenings of the third quarter, when he rises after sundown, they +preserve silence, cease from any work on which they may be engaged—even +halting should they be travelling—and almost extinguishing any light or +fire that may be burning. This is owing to the belief that he is +jealous of attention being distracted to other objects than himself at +such a time, or of any other light being employed than that which he +had been graciously pleased to afford so abundantly. By the time the +moon has ascended a few degrees, however, they restore their fires and +resume their former occupations, as they consider that they have +sufficiently complied with Maia Ogar’s wishes and requirements. The +glowing aspect of the full moon on its first appearance above the +horizon is supposed to indicate that Maia Ogar is enraged at finding +some persons neglecting to observe these conciliatory measures; there +is also an idea that, if he be greatly annoyed, he will punish them by +withdrawing or diminishing the light of his countenance [72].” + +As regards the waxing and waning of the moon, Mr Man says that these +are explained by the Aka-Bea “by saying that they are occasioned by +‘his’ applying a coating of cloud to his person by degrees, after the +manner of their own use of ko̱iob (red paint) and tala-o̱g (white clay) +and then gradually wiping it off [73].” In the Aka-Kede tribe the +natives say that as Maia Čirike (Sir Moon) goes across the sky, his +tongue hangs out of his mouth, sometimes more, sometimes less, and that +it is the tongue that is visible, that gives the light. I did not hear +any explanation of the waxing and waning of the moon in the tribes of +the North Andaman. In these tribes the new moon is called Dula e-tire, +i.e. the “baby moon,” the word e-tire denoting the young offspring of +an animal or a human being. + +With regard to a lunar eclipse Mr Man writes that “in case Maia Ogar +should be so ill-advised as permanently to withhold his light or render +himself in other ways still more disagreeable, whenever the moon is +eclipsed some persons at once seize their bows and twang them as +rapidly as possible, thereby producing a rattling sound as if +discharging a large number of arrows, while others commence at once +sharpening their rata (arrows). Of course this hostile demonstration is +never lost upon the moon, who does not venture to hurt those who show +themselves ready to give him so uncomfortable a reception. Their +immunity from harm on these occasions has given rise to some joking at +the expense of the luminary in question, for, during the continuance of +the eclipse, they shout in inviting tones to the hidden orb as +follows:—Ogar, laden balak ban lebe ŋ’idoati! doati! doati! (O Moon, I +will give you the seed of the balak! show yourself! appear! appear!) +This is said derisively, for, although these seeds are largely consumed +by the pigs, the aborigines do not consider them fit for food [74].” + +It may be noted that the invitation to the moon to eat balak seeds is +not perhaps derisive, but may be connected with the belief that the +moon can turn himself into a pig in order to feed on the things that +pigs eat. + +There was no eclipse of the moon during my stay in the islands. The +natives of the North Andaman told me that on such an occasion they +frighten the moon into showing himself again by lighting the end of a +bamboo arrow-shaft, and shooting it from a bow in the direction of the +moon. Another custom of which they told me is to take plumes of +shredded Tetranthera wood (čelmo or uǰ) and blow on them towards the +moon. + +Mr Man states that “a solar eclipse alarms them too much to allow of +their indulging in jests or threats, &c.: during the time it lasts they +all remain silent and motionless, as if in momentary expectation of +some calamity [75].” + +There are several different accounts in the North Andaman of the +phenomena of day and night. The night is often personified and is +called Mimi Bat (Lady Night). One version is that it is she who makes +the night while Maia To̱rodiu makes the day. Diu is the name of the sun, +and to̱ro-diu really means “the full sun” and refers to the middle part +of the day when the sun is well up in the sky. + +Another Northern version is that the daylight is made by a being named +Tauto̱bitatmo̱ who lives in the sky. He shuts up the day under a stone +every evening and lets it out every morning. Of Tauto̱bitatmo̱ I was told +that he is sometimes to be seen in the evening sky, but I was not able +to discover to what natural phenomenon reference was made. I was also +unable to discover the meaning of the name, which is a compound, tau +being the sky. + +Still another version from the same tribes is that it is a being named +Maia Čara who makes the daylight. Čara seems to be the equivalent of +the Tomo of the A-Pučikwar and other Southern tribes. He is sometimes +said to have been the first ancestor, and sometimes the creator, of the +Andamanese. He lives in the sky. + +Another belief about the night connects it with the spirits. The Lau +(spirits) in the sky, wrap up the night in a cloth or mat. When they +unroll the cloth it becomes dark. The natives of the North Andaman +formerly called cloth lau-ot-ǰulu, from a stem -ǰulu meaning “cold.” +They were only acquainted with cloth through seeing it used by the +aliens who visited their shores, and whom they called spirits (Lau). + +In the North Andaman thunder and lightning are commonly personified. +The lightning is Ele or Ali, and the thunder is Korude or Korule. Some +of the natives spoke of Mimi Ele (female) and others of Maia Ele +(male). He lives in the sky, which is regarded as being made of stone +(or rock) and is called tau-meo (the sky-stone). The lightning is due +to his shaking his foot. One rather obscure statement was to the effect +that Ele spends most of his time asleep or lying down and doing +nothing. When the weather gets bad Lato (a being that I could not +identify), comes and worries Ele and wakes him up. Then Ele gets angry +and shakes his leg. This is the lightning. + +Thunder (Korude) also lives in the sky. It is said that he makes the +thunder by means of a large round stone. One account is that he rolls +the stone about over the sky. Another is that he makes the stone hot, +and this produces the thunder. + +An entirely different explanation of thunder and lightning, which is +found in all the tribes, is that they are made by two beings named +Tarai and Biliku, to be described later on in this chapter. + +I never heard the rain (ǰiče̱r) spoken of as a person in the same way as +thunder and lightning. One explanation of rain is that the sky-stone +(tau-meo) gets cold, and this turns the mist (milite) into rain. +Another is that in the sky there is a large hollow or pool, which gets +filled with water and then overflows. Still another version is that the +rain is made by a being (or beings) named Čaitoŋ, who seems to be +female and lives in the sky. I could not obtain any satisfactory +information about her. + +In all parts of the islands the rainbow is believed to have some +connection with the spirits of the jungle or of the sea. One very +common statement is that it is a bridge of cane that stretches between +this world and the world of departed spirits. It is along the rainbow +that the spirits travel when they visit the earth. It is necessary to +correct a statement by Mr Portman on this matter. In connection with +the Aka-Bea word for the rainbow, pidga-l’ar-čauga, he says “The root +pidga (a rainbow) must not be confounded with the root pidga ‘a cane’ +or ‘rattan.’ The Andamanese have certain legends regarding the uses of +the rainbow, and these have been hitherto understood as referring to +‘canes.’ Pidga-l’ar-čauga means ‘the rainbow (bridge) by which the +spirits (cross)’ [76].” Mr Portman is in error. The word pidga means +“cane” and the whole word means “the cane of the spirits.” It is the +whole word that is the name of the rainbow, and not the word pidga. An +exactly similar compound name for the rainbow exists in each of the +languages of the Great Andaman. The name of the particular species of +large cane varies, being pidga in Aka-Bea, peta in A-Pučikwar, pir in +Aka-J̌eru, and so on. Apart from the fact that the natives themselves +say that the rainbow is a “cane,” Mr Portman would have us believe that +in each of the different languages there are two exactly similar words, +different in the different languages, one of which means “cane” and the +other “rainbow,” while there is no connection between the words. Thus +Aka-Bea would have pidga meaning “a kind of cane” and pidga meaning “a +rainbow.” Aka-J̌eru would have pir meaning “cane” and pir meaning +“rainbow.” + +The rainbow is generally regarded as an evil omen, being believed to be +a precursor of sickness. One Aka-J̌eru statement is that it is made by a +being called To̱lito̱ŋ and that when it appears somebody will be ill. + +The only explanation of the tides that I heard was to the effect that +they are caused by a fish, a species of Tetrodon, called čolmo in +Aka-J̌eru and pit in Aka-Kede, which drinks up the water and then lets +it out again. + +The Andaman Islands are occasionally visited by earthquakes. An +Aka-Kede account of how earthquakes are caused is that when a man dies +he goes to the spirit world which is beneath the earth. The spirits +hold a ceremony. My informant spoke of the ceremony as Kimil, which is +the name of the initiation ceremonies. At this ceremony they have a +dance similar to the peace-making dance described in the last chapter, +but instead of erecting a screen such as is used in that ceremony, they +make use of the rainbow. As they shake the rainbow in dancing this +causes earthquakes. The ceremony which newly-arrived spirits have to +undergo in the world after death is a po̱ro̱to kimil, i.e., the initiate +eats po̱ro̱to (Caryota sobolifera). + +Among the most important of the Andamanese beliefs are those relating +to the weather and the seasons. These are under the control of two +beings named Biliku, Bilik or Puluga, and Tarai, Teriya, or Daria. +There are a certain number of points in which the statements of one +informant may differ from those of another in connection with these two +mythical beings, but there are also a certain number of points on which +there is absolute unanimity in all the tribes of the Great Andaman. + +The first belief in which there is entire unanimity is that of the +connection of Biliku and Tarai with the two chief winds that are known +in the Andamans. Biliku lives in the north-east and is connected with +the north-east monsoon. Tarai lives in the south-west and is connected +with the south-west monsoon. The connection is shown in the names of +these winds, which are as follows:— + + + Language N.E. Wind S.W. Wind + + Aka-Cari, Aka-Bo, Aka-Kora, Aka-Jeru Biliku boto Tarai boto + Oko-Juwoi, Aka-Kol and A-Pucikwar Bilik to Teriya + Akar-Bale Puluga toa Daria + Aka-Bea Puluga ta Deria + + +In the Northern tribes the word bo̱to means “wind.” Biliku bo̱to must be +translated “the Biliku wind,” and Tarai bo̱to is similarly “the Tarai +wind.” It would be incorrect to translate the name Biliku bo̱to as “the +wind of Biliku,” for this would be rendered in Aka-J̌eru by Biliku ičo +bo̱to. In A-Pučikwar the south-west wind is called Teriya simply, the +name of the mythical being connected with the wind being used as the +name of the wind itself, just as is the case with the name Ele +(lightning). On the other hand the north-east wind is called not Bilik +but Bilik to̱. The same thing occurs also in the Akar-Bale and Aka-Bea +languages. + +Mr Portman translates the Aka-Bea term Puluga ta as “God’s wind,” and +he adds, in explanation, “Puluga ta means ‘God’s wind,’ and the reason +for the name is not known. Some vague ideas regarding the direction of +God’s dwelling in the sky are the probable origin of the term [77].” As +regards the translation of the Andamanese name Puluga by the English +“God” more will be said later. Leaving that aside, it is important to +note that Puluga ta does not mean “Puluga’s wind.” The word for wind in +Aka-Bea is given by Mr Portman himself as wul-ŋa, and the Akar-Bale and +A-Pučikwar equivalents are poat-ŋa and po̱te, being forms of the same +stem as the Northern bo̱to. The translation of “Puluga’s wind” in +A-Pučikwar would be Bilik l’iye po̱te, but this is not a phrase that the +natives ever use. It is not possible to translate “Puluga’s wind” +accurately in Akar-Bale. Puluga poat-ŋa would mean “Puluga blowing” the +-ŋa being a verbal ending. In any case Bilik to̱, and Puluga toa are not +to be translated as meaning “Puluga’s wind.” + +It may be observed, in reference to Mr Portman’s statement, that the +notions of the Andamanese as to the direction of the dwelling of Puluga +in the sky are very far from vague. The natives all agree that Puluga +or Biliku lives in the direction from which the north-east wind blows, +really N.N.E. This is shown in geographical names. For example the side +of Havelock Island that faces north-east is called Puluga-l’ar-mugu, +meaning “the side that faces Puluga,” from ar-mugu meaning “front” or +“face.” + +There are two matters, then, on which there is absolute unanimity in +all the tribes of the Great Andaman, one being the connection of Biliku +(or Puluga) with the north-east and of Tarai (or Deria) with the +south-west, and the other being the connection of these two beings with +the winds that blow from these two opposite points of the compass. + +The connection of these two beings with winds is shown in another way +in the A-Pučikwar tribe, where the winds are divided into two +divisions. One division contains only the south-west wind, which is of +extreme regularity, and blows steadily for about five months in every +year. This wind is called Teriya. The other division contains all the +other winds, and they are collectively denoted by the term Bilik. They +are distinguished by names, as J̌ila Bilik (the east Bilik, from ǰila, +east), Ko̱ico Bilik (the west Bilik), Me̱tepur Bilik, Čo̱liatum Bilik, +Rartear Bilik, and Ko̱ičor-to̱ŋ Bilik. Here we find the name Bilik used +not as the name of a single person, but as a common name for a class of +beings who are the winds personified. The same use of the term is found +also in the Aka-Ko̱l tribe. + +Even in the Akar-Bale tribe something of the same kind is found. One +Akar-Bale man said that Puluga has two brothers, J̌ila Puluga (East +Puluga) and Koaičo Puluga (West Puluga); the one sends all the easterly +winds and the other all the westerly ones. + +In the Andamans the year is divided into two nearly equal portions. +During the season of the south-west monsoon, which lasts from May to +September, the wind blows steadily from the south-west. This is the +rainy season. Violent storms never or only very rarely occur during the +season of the south-west wind. From December to March the wind blows +mostly from the N.N.E., occasionally changing to E.N.E. or N.E. In the +periods at the change of the monsoon (from N.E. to S.W. in April and +May, and from S.W. to N.E. in October and November) the wind is +variable, and may blow at times from E.S.E. or W.N.W. + +The south-west wind (properly speaking W.S.W.) is identified, as we +have seen with Tarai (Deria). Although Biliku (Puluga) is specially +connected with the north-east wind, yet all the winds other than the +south-west are commonly supposed to be sent by Biliku. Thus we have +seen that in the A-Pučikwar tribe the different winds are named, each +of them (with the exception of the south-west) being a Bilik. + +It comes about, in this way, that the year is divided into two +portions, one of which is specially connected with Biliku (Puluga), +while the other is specially connected with Tarai (Deria). These two +seasons are not quite of equal length. The Tarai season lasts only +while the south-west monsoon is blowing, which, in an average year, is +between four and five months. The other seven months are connected with +Biliku and are divided into three portions, (1) the stormy season of +October and November, (2) the cold season of December to February, and +(3) the hot season of March and April. + +There are many points relating to Biliku and Tarai about which there is +no general agreement amongst the tribes, or, in some cases, even within +the same tribe. In the North Andaman Biliku is regarded as female, and +is called Mimi Biliku, while Tarai is male and is called Maia Tarai. +This is so in all the four tribes, Aka-Čari, Aka-Bo, Aka-Ko̱ra and +Aka-J̌eru. A statement that is frequently made by the natives of these +tribes is that Tarai and Biliku are husband and wife. While this is the +most common statement, there are, however, other versions of the +matter. In order to show the lack of uniformity in statements about +Biliku and Tarai in the Northern tribes I reproduce a few extracts from +my note-books written down exactly as they were given to me. + +(1) Biliku is the wife of Tarai and they have a child named Perǰido. +(This statement was made to me a great many times in the North Andaman, +and may be regarded as the most usual form of the belief.) + +(2) Biliku is the wife of Tarai. Their children are the sun and moon. +(Heard only once.) + +(3) The husband of Biliku is Perǰido and her children are Totaimo, Mite +(cicada) and Tarai. + +(4) Biliku is unmarried, but she has a son Perǰido, and her other +children are To̱ro̱i, Čelene, Čoto̱t, and Čerei. These four are the names +of birds. + +(5) Biliku is the wife of Tarai. Their children are To̱ro̱i, Taka, Čoto̱t, +Poruato̱ko, Kelil, Co̱pcura, Benye, Biratkoro, Čereo, Milidu, Bobelo, +Ko̱lo. These are all names of birds. + +(6) Biliku has a husband To̱ro̱i (a bird). Tarai has a wife Kelil (a +bird). + +In the Aka-Kede tribe the most common statement, at any rate in the +northern part of the tribe, is that Bilika is female, and that Tarai is +male. One Aka-Kede man, from the southern part of the tribe said that +Bilika was male. + +In the Aka-Ko̱l and A-Pučikwar tribes Bilik is generally spoken of as +being male, and Teriya is also male. Other versions from these tribes +are as follows:— + +(1) Bilik is female and Teriya is her husband. Their children are the +winds, Čoliatum Bilik, Me̱tepur Bilik, and Wo̱ičo-l’arpat Bilik. + +(2) There is a male Bilik and a female Bilik, who are husband and wife. +Their children are Ko̱ičo̱r-to̱ŋ Bilik, Ko̱ičo Bilik, Jila Bilik, Me̱tepur +Bilik, Rartear Bilik, and Teriya. These are the winds. + +(3) Bilik is male. His wife is In Čaria, and their children are Kao +(prawn) and Mo̱rua (the sky). + +In the Akar-Bale tribe the most usual statement is that both Puluga and +Daria are male, and this was apparently also the common belief of the +Aka-Bea. + +In the North Andaman the name Biliku is also the word for “spider,” but +no meaning (save as the name of the mythical being) was discovered for +the name Tarai. In the South and Middle Andaman no meaning was +discovered, either for the name Bilik or Puluga, or for the name Teriya +or Deria. Although this book does not deal with the Little Andaman, it +is worth while to mention that there also the natives believe in a +mythical person who lives in the north-east and sends the storms. This +being is female and is named Öluga. The monitor lizard is also called +öluga in the language of the Little Andaman. It is obvious, however, +that the names Biliku, Puluga, Öluga are all of them different forms of +the same word. + +As we have already seen, it is Biliku and Tarai who send the winds. +Tarai sends the south-west wind, which brings the rain. Biliku sends +the other winds which bring either fine weather, or, at times, violent +storms. One Akar-Bale account of the matter (literally translated as +told to me) is as follows. “Once upon a time Puluga and Daria were +great friends, but they quarrelled. Puluga said that he was the bigger +(more important). Daria said that he was. So now they are always +quarrelling. Puluga sends the wind for one period. Then Daria sends his +wind.” + +According to the statement of an Akar-Bale man, Puluga makes the wind +by fanning with a very large kwar-toŋ leaf. + +Rain and thunder and lightning that come with the south-west wind are +believed to be due to Tarai. Storms that come during the season +connected with Biliku are made by Biliku and are due to her anger. When +a big storm comes the natives say “Biliku is angry.” Lightning is +explained as being a fire-brand thrown by Biliku across the sky when +she is angry, and thunder is said to be her voice growling. Another +explanation of lightning is that it is a pearl-shell, called be in the +North Andaman, thrown by Biliku, the bright flash of the +mother-of-pearl being seen as it crosses the sky. Still another +statement from the North Andaman is that Biliku makes the lightning by +striking a pearl-shell (be) against a stone. + +Although Biliku is generally mentioned when a native is asked about +lightning, yet Tarai also wields the lightning and the thunder. On one +occasion when I was talking to a native I referred to the thunder and +lightning that were at the moment coming up from the south-west, making +a remark to the effect that Biliku was getting angry about something, +and was corrected by him with “No, that is Tarai.” + +There are a certain number of actions that are believed by the natives +to arouse the anger of Biliku (Puluga), and thereby cause storms. There +are three of these that are of importance. + +(1) Burning or melting bees’-wax. + +(2) Killing a cicada, or making a noise, particularly a noise of +cutting or banging wood, during the time that the cicada is “singing” +in the morning and evening. + +(3) The use of certain articles of food, of which the chief are the +seeds of the Entada scandens, the pith of the Caryota sobolifera, two +species of Dioscorea (yam), and certain edible roots, of which may be +mentioned those called in Aka-J̌eru, labo, mikulu, ǰi and lo̱ito. + +In this matter there is an entire unanimity of belief in all the tribes +of the Great Andaman. All the natives agree in saying that any of these +three actions causes the anger of Biliku or Puluga and so brings bad +weather. + +The natives do, as a matter of fact, melt all the bees’-wax they +obtain, in order to purify it, and render it suitable for use in the +various ways in which they employ it. Also they do make use of all the +plants mentioned under (3) whenever they are in season. They give +various explanations of this variance between their precepts and their +actions. Some of my informants said that though these actions may bring +rain and storms, yet they would rather submit to the bad weather than +go without some of their most prized vegetable foods. Others again say +that there is always a chance that Biliku may not notice that the +plants have been disturbed, particularly if no fragments are left lying +about the camp, and if, when taking the roots, the creepers are not +disturbed. Another statement is that it is really only during the +season of storms, called the Kimil season in Aka-J̌eru, that it is +dangerous to eat these foods, that is, during the months of October and +November. After this season has passed there is no longer any danger of +violent storms and the foods in question may be freely eaten. +Nevertheless the natives do eat these foods in the months of October +and November. + +Mr Man records the native beliefs about bees’-wax and the plants in +question. “There is an idea current that if during the first half of +the rainy season they eat the Caryota sobolifera, or pluck or eat the +seeds of the Entada pursœtha, or gather yams or other edible roots, +another deluge would be the consequence, for Puluga is supposed to +require these for his own consumption at that period of the year; the +restriction, however does not extend to the fallen seeds of the Entada +pursœtha, which may be collected and eaten at any time with impunity. +Another of the offences visited by Puluga with storms is the burning of +bee’s wax, the smell of which is said to be peculiarly obnoxious to +him. Owing to this belief it is a common practice secretly to burn wax +when a person against whom they bear ill-will is engaged in fishing, +hunting, or the like, the object being to spoil his sport and cause him +as much discomfort as possible; hence arises the saying amongst them, +when suddenly overtaken by a storm, that some one must be burning wax +[78].” + +It must be noted that it is not only the “burning,” but also the +melting of bees’-wax that angers Puluga. As regards the plants +mentioned by Mr Man none of these is available for food during the +early part of the rainy season. At that time the yams are not formed, +the pith of the Caryota palm is not ripe and is uneatable, and the only +available seeds of the Entada would be those of the last season that +had not fallen from the pods or that had lain on the ground without +having germinated. Thus the prohibition as stated by Mr Man amounts to +nothing. The subject will be discussed in a later chapter. It may be +remarked, however, that it is a fact easily to be observed that the +natives do regard the gathering of these vegetable foods during the +later portion of the rainy season and during the first part of the cool +season (i.e. from October to December), as being an action that may +offend Biliku. I was myself able to observe this on several occasions, +as when once, at the very end of the rainy season, I, not then knowing +the belief, asked a native to cut for me one of the pods of the Entada +as a botanical specimen, whereupon the native, after fulfilling my +request, explained to me that there would probably be a storm next day +as the result of our action. + +In all the tribes of the Great Andaman I found a belief that Biliku or +Puluga will be angry if anybody makes a noise, particularly a noise of +chopping, breaking or banging wood, during the time the cicada is +singing. The cicada “sings” as the natives call it, during the short +interval between dawn and sunrise, and during that between sunset and +darkness. It is at these times that no noise may be made. The +Andamanese do observe this custom, and refrain from making any noise at +such times. For instance, if a man were singing, he would cease until +the cicada were silent again. In all the tribes I found that this +prohibition was connected in the minds of the natives with Puluga, the +reason of the custom being always explained to me by saying that any +breach of it would infallibly bring bad weather. In the North Andaman +the cicada (mite) is commonly spoken of as the “child” of Biliku, +Biliku ot-tire. + +Mr Man refers to this custom. In one place he says that the first +parents of the Andamanese were told by Puluga “that, though they were +to work in the wet months, they must not do so after sundown, because +by doing so they would worry the butu, which are under Puluga’s special +protection. Any noise, such as working (kopke) with an adze, would +cause the butu’s head to ache, and that would be a serious matter. +During the cold and dry seasons work may be carried on day and night, +as the butu is then seldom seen, and cannot be disturbed [79].” + +The butu here mentioned is the cicada. The prohibition is not, however, +as Mr Man says, against working, but against making a noise. Nor does +the prohibition against noise extend to the whole night, but only to +the short interval between sunset and darkness, for it is during this +interval that the cicada is singing. As soon as the cicada is silent +you may make as much noise as you please. + +Another reference by Mr Man to the same custom is as follows: “Between +dawn and sunrise they will do no work, save what is noiseless, lest the +sun should be offended and cause an eclipse, storm, or other misfortune +to overtake them. If, therefore, they have occasion to start on a +journey or hunting expedition at so early an hour, they proceed as +quietly as possible, and refrain from the practice, observed at other +times of the day, of testing the strength of their bow-strings, as the +snapping noise caused thereby is one of those to which the sun objects +[80].” + +This is really the same prohibition as that already mentioned, against +making a noise when the cicada is singing. The interesting point, which +will be discussed in a later chapter, is that Mr Man’s informant +associated the prohibition not with Puluga, but with the sun. All the +natives with whom I talked on the matter said that they would make no +noise at such a time for fear of offending the cicada, and therefore +Puluga or Biliku, and so bringing a storm. + +As regards the prohibition against killing the cicada, this seems to +refer only to the imago. So far as I was able to observe, the natives +do carefully avoid killing the cicada in its full-grown form. On the +other hand the grub of the cicada is regularly killed and eaten, being +regarded as a delicacy. It is only eaten during the months of October +and November. + +In connection with the cicada, and with the weather, there is a rite +which was described to me, but which I did not see performed. According +to the account given of this rite, which is called “killing the +cicada,” its purpose is to produce fine weather. It takes place in +December, at the end of the season during which they eat the grub. When +the time agreed upon for the performance of the ceremony arrives, all +the members of the community are careful to be in the camp before +sunset. As soon as the sun sets and the cicadæ begin their shrill cry, +all the men, women and children present begin to make as much noise as +they possibly can, by banging on the sounding-board, striking the +ground with bamboos, beating pieces of wood together, or hammering on +the sides of canoes, while at the same time shouting. They continue the +noise, which entirely drowns that of the cicada, until after darkness +has fallen. The rite may be performed, I believe, two or more times, on +successive evenings. My informant explained the rite by saying that the +natives have been eating the cicada, and the rite is intended to “kill” +those that are left. After the rite the cicada disappears and is not +seen or heard for some weeks, and there follow four months of fine +weather with little rain. + +The beliefs relating to bees’-wax, to the various edible roots, and to +the cicada, are the same in all the Great Andaman tribes, and are by +far the most important of those connected with Biliku. In the North +Andaman Biliku is supposed to be angry if any one kills a biliku +(spider), a reo (a species of insect making a noise like a cicada, +during the daytime, which I often heard, but never saw), or a čatlo (a +species of beetle). There is also a bird, which I was not able to +identify, called to̱ro̱i, which belongs to Biliku and may not be killed. + +In the A-Pučikwar tribe it is said that two species of fish, called +unakoro and liwat belong to Bilik and may not be killed. A mollusc, +called towa, also belongs to Bilik, and is for that reason never eaten. +A bird called Bilik-l’ar-dala (probably the same bird that is called +to̱ro̱i in the North Andaman) may not be killed. + +In the Akar-Bale tribe I was told that two kinds of wood, bukura and +worago, must not be used for firewood, for fear of offending Puluga, to +whom they belong. Bukura is a species of Diospyros (ebony). + +The only punishment that Biliku ever inflicts on human beings when she +is angry with them for any reason, is to send violent storms. The way +to stop a storm seems to be to frighten Biliku. One means of doing this +is to throw the leaves of the Mimusops littoralis in the fire. These +leaves explode with the heating of the juices and make a crackling or +popping noise, which it is said that Biliku dislikes. I believe, +however, that if any one were thus to burn Mimusops leaves during fine +weather, it would be regarded as likely to cause a storm. The most +efficacious means of stopping a storm is to do some of the things that +Biliku most dislikes. To burn bees’-wax, or to go into the jungle and +damage or destroy the creepers that belong to her, these are the heroic +remedies against Biliku’s anger. + +The question of the Andamanese beliefs about storms is complicated by +the fact that although all storms are said to be made by Puluga or +Biliku, yet there is an alternative and contradictory belief that +storms are made by the spirits of the sea (J̌urua). It is said that if a +piece of the Anadendron paniculatum creeper were to be burnt there +would be a great cyclone, but this appears to be associated, not with +Biliku, but with the spirits of the sea. It will be shown later that +there is a special connection between the J̌urua and this plant. The +belief that a storm will arise if turtle fat be allowed to burn in the +fire seems also to be connected with the J̌urua and not with Biliku. The +same is probably the case with a belief that rain will come if a Ficus +laccifera tree be damaged. + +Some of the methods used to stop storms are also probably connected +with the spirits and not with Biliku. One such method is to go into the +sea and swish arrows about in the water. One oko-ǰumu (medicine-man) of +the North Andaman is reputed to have stopped a big cyclone by taking a +few pieces of Anadendron paniculatum and crushing them, and then diving +into the sea and placing the crushed creeper under a stone. An oko-ǰumu +who died while I was in the islands is supposed to have been able to +stop a storm by similarly placing leaves and twigs of the Ficus +laccifera (reŋko) under a rock in the sea. + +To complete the account of this part of the Andamanese beliefs it is +necessary to quote what Mr Man writes about the tribes of the South +Andaman. Mr Man describes Puluga as a “Supreme Being” and says that +some of the beliefs of the Andamanese relating to him “approximate +closely to the true faith concerning the Deity.” Mr Portman, following +Mr Man, in this as in many other matters, translates the name Puluga by +the English word “God.” Mr Man’s statements are as follows:— + +“Of Puluga they say that— + +“I. Though His appearance is like fire, yet He is (nowadays) invisible. + +“II. He was never born and is immortal. + +“III. By him the world and all objects, animate and inanimate were +created, excepting only the powers of evil. + +“IV. He is regarded as omniscient while it is day, knowing even the +thoughts of their hearts. + +“V. He is angered by the commission of certain sins, while to those in +pain or distress he is pitiful, and sometimes deigns to afford relief. + +“VI. He is the Judge from whom each soul receives its sentence after +death, and to some extent, the hope of escape from the torments of +J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu is said to affect their course of action in the present +life. + +“Puluga is believed to live in a large stone house in the sky, with a +wife whom he created for himself: she is green in appearance and has +two names, Čana Aulola (Mother Fresh-water Shrimp), and Čana Palak +(Mother Eel); by her he has a large family, all, except the eldest, +being girls; these last, known as morowin (sky spirits or angels), are +said to be black in appearance, and, with their mother, amuse +themselves from time to time by throwing fish and prawns into the +streams and sea for the use of the inhabitants of the world. Puluga’s +son is called Piǰčor: he is regarded as a sort of archangel, and is +alone permitted to live with his father, whose orders it is his duty to +make known to the morowin. + +“Puluga is said to eat and drink, and, during the dry months of the +year, to pass much of his time in sleep, as is proved by his voice +(thunder) being rarely heard at that season; he is the source whence +they receive all their supplies of animals, birds, and turtles; when +they anger him he comes out of his house and blows, and growls, and +hurls burning faggots at them—in other words, visits their offences +with violent thunderstorms and heavy squalls; except for this purpose +he seldom leaves home, unless it be during the rains, when he descends +to earth to provide himself with certain kinds of food; how often this +happens they do not know since, nowadays, he is invisible [81].” + +Mr Man’s comparison between the Andamanese belief in Puluga and the +Christian belief in a God, will be discussed in a later chapter when we +come to deal with the interpretation of the Andamanese beliefs. It is +to be noted that Mr Man does not make any reference to Deria (Tarai), +nor does he mention the association of Puluga with the north-east. + +As regards the personal appearance of Puluga, the statements of +different informants are not in agreement. One A-Pučikwar man described +Bilik as being very big, about the height of one of the posts of my hut +(which was eighteen feet), white-skinned like a European, having a long +beard, and carrying a bow of the J̌a̤rawa type. + +The legends connecting Puluga with the creation of the world will be +given in the next chapter. + +I am not able to confirm Mr Man’s statement that Puluga is omniscient, +and in fact there are some customs of the natives that are in +contradiction with any such belief. When they dig up yams (which belong +to Puluga) they take the tuber and replace the “crown” with the +attached stem in the ground, and explain this by saying that if they do +so Puluga will not notice that the yam has been taken. Whenever they do +any of the things that displease Puluga, they seem to believe that +there is a possibility that Puluga may not discover what has been done. +It may be noted that there is no means of distinguishing in Andamanese +between “all” and “a great deal.” Thus a statement the Puluga knows +“everything” may be equally well translated “Puluga knows a great +deal.” Between these two statements there is no difference for the +Andamanese, but there is a great difference for us, and for this reason +the use of the word “omniscient” is misleading. + +Mr Man says that Puluga “is angered by the commission of certain sins.” +In this connection it is necessary to refer to another passage in Mr +Man’s work. “That they are not entirely devoid of moral consciousness +may, I think, in some measure, be demonstrated by the fact of their +possessing a word, yub-da, signifying sin or wrong-doing, which is used +in connection with falsehood, theft, grave assault, murder, adultery, +and—burning wax (!), which deeds are believed to anger Puluga-la, the +Creator [82].” Although I made very careful and repeated enquiries, I +was unable to meet with a single native who believed that such actions +as the murder of one man by another, or adultery, aroused the anger of +Puluga. The only actions at which Puluga is angry are those purely +ritual offences, such as burning or melting wax, killing a cicada, +digging up yams, etc., which have already been mentioned. + +The Andamanese beliefs connected with the life after death will be +described later in the present chapter. + +As regards the “stone house” in which Puluga is said to live, this +really means, I believe, a cave. In the North Andaman Biliku is +frequently spoken of as living in a cave (e̱ra-poŋ). Also, it may be +recalled, the sky is generally regarded as consisting of stone or rock, +and it is in the sky the Puluga lives. + +The son of Puluga, mentioned by Mr Man, Piǰčor, is a being about whom I +was able to learn very little. In the North Andaman the same being is +named Perǰido, and is said to be the son of Biliku. The Morowin, whom +Mr Man describes as the daughters of Puluga, are sky spirits. The most +usual belief in the South Andaman is that there are both male and +female Morowin. They are beings of somewhat the same nature as the +jungle spirits and the sea spirits. An Akar-Bale informant told me, +“The Morua are sky spirits. They eat only pork and nothing else. They +are angry if pork is roasted, and make the people ill. They used to +live in the big baǰa (Sterculia) trees, but now they live in the sky.” + +In this connection it may be mentioned that there is a belief +throughout the Andamans that it is dangerous to roast pork. In the +North Andaman the natives commonly say that the spirits of the jungle +are angry if pork be roasted, and may be attracted to the spot and +cause the natives to be ill. An Akar-Bale belief, connecting the danger +with the spirits of the sky has just been mentioned. Mr Man’s version +of the matter is as follows:— “... there is a company of evil spirits +who are called čol, and who are much dreaded. They are believed to be +descendants of Maia Čol who lived in antediluvian times. They generally +punish those who offend them by baking or roasting pig’s flesh, the +smell of which is particularly obnoxious to them, as it is also to +Puluga, who therefore, often assists them in discovering the +delinquent; the same risk does not attend boiling pork, which the +olfactory nerves of the fastidious čol are not keen enough to detect. +While the Andamanese say that they are liable to be struck by +E̱rem-čauga-la or J̌uruwin at any time or in any place, the čol strike +those only who offend them, and that during the day while they are +stationary, this being necessitated by the distance from the earth of +their abode, whence they hurl their darts; an invisible spear is the +weapon they always use, and this is thrown with unerring aim at the +head of their victims, and is invariably fatal. As these demons are +considered especially dangerous on the hottest days, they are +apparently held accountable for the deaths from sunstroke which happen +from time to time [83].” + +It may be remarked that Čol is the name of a species of bird (probably +the racket-tailed drongo), which is named from its call—čol, čol, čol. +I did not hear the name used to denote what Mr Man calls demons, except +in so far as the birds themselves are supposed to have supernatural +powers. There is, perhaps, some sort of connection between the čol (the +birds, that is) and the sky-spirits, Morowin or Morua, but I was not +able to satisfy myself on the point. The connection of them both with +Puluga is still more obscure. + +Another belief in connection with pigs is that any person who cuts up a +pig badly is liable to be punished. Mr Man states, on this subject, +“Puluga never himself puts any one to death, but he objects so strongly +to seeing a pig badly quartered and carved that he invariably points +out those who offend him in this respect to a class of malevolent +spirits called Čol, one of whom forthwith despatches the unfortunate +individual [84].” + +I was not able to find any evidence that Puluga is believed to be angry +if a pig is badly quartered. From the natives with whom I talked on the +subject I received two different statements. One was to the effect that +if a pig is badly cut up the meat will be bad and anyone who eats it +will be ill. The other was that if a pig is badly cut up the spirits of +the jungle will be angry and will punish the offender. In neither case +was there any reference to Puluga or Biliku. + +In general it may be said that the natives believe that the only +punishment that Puluga or Biliku ever sends against those who offend +him or her in any way is bad weather, and I did not myself meet with +any exception to this rule. + +One other observation by Mr Man may be mentioned. He says, “When they +see a dark cloud approaching at a time when rain would prove very +inconvenient, as when hunting, travelling, etc., they advise Puluga to +divert its course by shouting ‘Wara-J̌obo kopke, kopke, kopke’ +(Wara-J̌obo will bite, bite, bite (you)). If in spite of this a shower +falls they imagine that Puluga is undeterred by their warning [85].” + +It is clear from the above discussion of the matter that there is not +any complete agreement in the beliefs concerning Puluga (Biliku) even +in any one tribe of the Andamans. There are many different statements +about this being which cannot be made consistent with one another +without doing violence to the evidence. At the same time, amid all the +differences and inconsistencies there are a certain number of points +about which there is a general agreement throughout the whole of the +tribes of the Great Andaman. One of these is the connection of Puluga +and Daria with the weather, with the two chief winds, and with the +points of the compass from which these winds blow. The other is the +belief that certain actions, such as melting bees’-wax, digging up +yams, etc., are disliked by Puluga, and are punished by him (or her) +with stormy weather. On these matters there is entire agreement amongst +the natives of all the tribes, and they are to the natives themselves +by far the most important part of the beliefs concerning Puluga. + +We have seen that the Andamanese believe in two different kinds of what +may be called, for want of a better term, supernatural beings. In the +first place there are the spirits, the Lau or Čauga, and the J̌urua, +inhabiting the forest and the sea respectively. These are all +associated by the natives with ghosts, i.e. with the spirits of dead +men and women. In the second place there are other beings connected +with the sun and moon, lightning and thunder and the monsoons (Biliku +and Tarai). These are all associated with the phenomena of nature. +There are many points of contact between these two classes of beings. +Thus there are two alternative explanations of bad weather, one that it +is due to the spirits (particularly the spirits of the sea), the other +that it is due to the anger of Biliku. This is a point that will be +referred to again in a later chapter. + +It is possible that there are beliefs in other supernatural beings who +are neither spirits of the dead nor connected with natural phenomena. +The only being of such a nature that I was able to discover anything +about is one called Nila or Ńila. This is the name of an evil being who +is supposed to live in hollow Pterocarpus trees. When he smells human +beings near his tree he comes out and kills them with his knife. I +found this belief in the A-Pučikwar tribe, but was not able to find any +trace of a similar belief in the North Andaman, though of course I +cannot say that it does not exist there. Mr Man mentions this same +being. “This spirit Nila is supposed to live in ant-hills, and to have +neither wife nor child; he is not regarded as such a malevolent +personage as Erem-čauga-la, and, though he is always armed with a +knife, he rarely injures human beings with it, or when he does so, it +is not in order to feed upon their bodies, for he is said to eat earth +only [86].” Mr Man adds, in a footnote that “cases have been cited of +persons who have been found stabbed, whose deaths have been attributed +to Nila: the possibility of the individuals in question having been +murdered is scouted.” + +The version given by Mr Man is not quite in agreement with the +information given to me, but I was unfortunately not able to learn +anything more about the nature of Nila. + +As throwing some additional light on the way in which the Andamanese +think of the supernatural beings that have been mentioned above, I add +here a brief description of a sort of dramatic or pantomimic dance that +I witnessed in the North Andaman. Many savage tribes in different parts +of the world are in the habit of performing dances or pantomimes in +which the performer represents a supernatural being. In the Andamans +there are no regular performances of this kind. The solitary one that I +witnessed was entirely exceptional. + +The performer was a man named Kobo. This man, according to the +statements of the natives, had, at one time of his life, died and come +back to life again. Owing to this fact he was endowed with special +magical powers, and had some reputation as a magician or medicine-man +(oko-ǰumu). During the time that he was dead (probably a few hours of +unconsciousness), he is supposed to have visited the world of spirits, +and while there he saw many things and learnt much about the spirits. +Among other things he witnessed a dance in which the spirits and other +supernatural beings took part. All these things he was able to remember +when he returned to life. + +The performance was given one afternoon on the ordinary dancing ground +of the village. The performer sat on his haunches in a hut at one end +of the dancing ground. Thrust into the back of his belt he wore a bunch +of leaves sticking out somewhat after the manner of a cock’s tail, but +he had no other ornament. The spectators, consisting of men, women and +children, were seated round the edge of the dancing ground, which had +been swept clean. On one side sat a few women who acted as chorus. +There was no sounding-board. + +The performer began to sing a song, composed on the model of the songs +of the South Andaman (with a short refrain) which has now for some +years been adopted by the Northern tribes in preference to their own. +As he finished the song the women of the chorus took up the refrain, +repeating it over and over again, and marking time by clapping their +hands on their thighs. The performer came out of his hut and performed +a dance. At a signal from him the chorus ceased and he returned to his +hut. In this way he sang several songs, repeating each one several +times, and performed a number of short dances. In nearly every case the +step of the dance was some simple modification of the step in common +use at an ordinary dance. Thus in one dance he danced very violently +and pretended to hurt his leg through the violence of his dancing, +making angry signs to the chorus to stop their clapping, of which, of +course, they took no notice. In another dance he stopped at short +intervals and violently scratched his sides and then doubled himself up +with laughter. In yet another, he danced with the step of the women’s +dance, covering his face with his hands and pretending to be very +bashful. In still another he stood on tiptoe on the right foot and +stamped with his left foot in time to the chorus of women. In some of +the dances he walked round the open space within the circle of +spectators, sometimes in a crouching attitude, and at other times in +other attitudes. All these dances aroused great amusement amongst the +spectators. It was unfortunately impossible for me to understand them +all or to obtain an adequate explanation of them either at the time or +later. + +Of the songs that were sung one was “The tide has gone down over the +reef. I walk round the world. There is great wind and rain.” + +Some of these dances I was able to understand even without explanation. +One of them represented Biliku. The performer held in his right hand a +shell, and as he danced grotesquely round the open space he looked +fiercely at the spectators and threatened to throw the shell at them. +Many of the women and children could not prevent themselves from +starting backwards when he thus threatened them, but their fears were +immediately dispelled in laughter. The shell was not a pearl-shell (be) +but a Cyrena shell (bun), but I believe that this was because there was +no pearl-shell available. The representation of Biliku was thus reduced +to a single gesture, that of threatening the natives with her +pearl-shell (lightning). + +Another dance represented the jungle spirits (Bido-teč Lau). In this he +first hid himself behind a screen of bido leaves (Calamus tigrinus) +that had been prepared, singing a song. The leaves represented a clump +of the Calamus palm such as is supposed to be the favourite haunt of +the jungle spirits. After having sung for some time behind his screen +of leaves, he came out with a bow and arrow in his hand, and as he +danced in front of the spectators he pretended to shoot at them. + +In another dance he represented Ele, the lightning. He sat on a stone +that had been placed in the middle of the open space, swinging his arms +to the time of the chorus, and every now and then shaking his leg. + +This observation is an important one in several ways. Although I asked +the man to repeat it, in order that I might make fuller notes and +obtain explanations of many obscure points, and although he grudgingly +said that he would, yet he did not do so. He was, moreover, very +reserved over the matter, and not very willing to talk about his own +performance. + +I believe that the performance was an entirely exceptional affair. I +never at any other time either saw or heard of one man or even several +men, giving a dance for the amusement of others. I think that the whole +thing was entirely the invention of the performer. He had given the +same performance, or one very similar, at least once before the +occasion on which I saw it. + +We may now turn to the Andamanese beliefs relating to the soul and the +life after death. + +The vital principle is at different times identified by the Andamanese +with the pulse, the breath, with the blood and with the fat, +particularly the kidney-fat. Thus the body of a slain enemy is burnt so +that the blood and fat may be consumed in smoke and ascend to the sky +where they will no longer be a danger to those who have slain him. + +The nearest approach to our notion of a soul that the natives possess +is their belief concerning the double or reflection seen in a mirror. +In the Northern tribes the word ot-ǰumulo means “reflection,” and also +“shadow,” and is also nowadays applied to a photograph. The word +ot-ǰumu, in the same languages, means “a dream” or “to dream.” We may +perhaps translate the word ot-ǰumulo as meaning “soul.” In the Aka-Bea +language ot-yolo is “reflection,” while there is a different word, +ot-diya or ot-lere, for “shadow,” and neither of the words has any +connection with the word “dream” which is taraba. Mr Man translates the +word ot-yolo as “soul.” + +The fact that the words for dream and reflection, double or shadow are +from the same root in the Northern languages is of interest. Dreams are +sometimes explained by saying that the sleeper’s double (ot-ǰumulo) has +left his body and is wandering elsewhere. Dreams are regarded as being +veridical, or at any rate, as having importance. One man told me how, +in a dream the night before, his ot-ǰumulo had travelled from where we +were to his own country and had there seen the death of the baby of a +woman of his own tribe. He was fully convinced that the baby must +really have died. + +An Andamanese will never, or only with the very greatest reluctance, +awaken another from sleep. One explanation of this that was given to me +was that the ot-ǰumulo or double of the sleeper may be wandering far +from his body, and to waken him suddenly might cause him to be ill. + +The principle on which dreams are interpreted is a very simple one. All +unpleasant dreams are bad, all pleasant ones are good. The natives +believe that sickness is often caused by dreams. A man in the early +stages of an attack of fever, for instance, may have a bad dream. When +the fever develops he explains it as due to the dream. If a man has a +painful dream he will often not venture out of the camp the following +day, but will stay at home until the effect has worn off. The natives +believe that they can communicate in dreams with the spirits, but the +power to do this regularly is the privilege of certain special +individuals, known as oko-ǰumu (dreamers). However, an ordinary +individual may occasionally have dreams of this kind. + +I found that any attempt to study the dreams of such a people as the +Andamanese is made very difficult by the fact that it is never possible +to tell how far the original dream has been arranged and altered by the +waking imagination. So far as my observations went the majority of +dreams are either visual or motor, or both. Further reference to dreams +will be made later in connection with magic. + +When a man or woman dies the double (or as some of the natives explain +it, the breath) leaves the body and becomes a spirit (lau or čauga). By +death a man ceases to exist as a man, and begins a new existence as a +spirit. + +Whenever I asked the natives whence came the spirits of the jungle and +the sea I received the answer that they are the spirits of dead men and +women. On the other hand, when I put in another form what might seem to +be the same question, and asked what became of a man’s spirit after his +death, I received many different and inconsistent answers. As it would +take too much space to transcribe every answer that I received to this +question, a number of typical ones are selected. Any attempt to +reconcile the statements of different men or of the same men on +different occasions can only produce a false impression of the real +condition of the native beliefs, and therefore the statements are kept +separate, and each one is given as it was taken down. + +The first is from the Northern tribes. Exactly similar statements were +made to me by men of several tribes. “When a man dies he becomes a Lau +and wanders about the jungle. At first he keeps near the grave or the +place where he died, but after a while he finds that is no good, and so +he goes to live with the other spirits. If he is drowned he becomes a +J̌urua.” A second account, varying from the above in only one +particular, is also from one of the Northern tribes (Aka-Čari). “When a +man dies he becomes a Lau or a J̌urua and lives with the other spirits. +If he be a jungle-dweller he becomes a Lau and lives in the jungle. If +he be a coast-dweller he becomes a J̌urua and lives in the sea. All the +Aka-Čari become J̌urua when they die. The spirit stays in his own +country. The spirits of a man’s own country (whether Lau or J̌urua) are +friendly to him, but those of another country are dangerous and will +make him ill.” + +An entirely different statement frequently made to me by men of the +Northern tribes is that when a man dies the spirit (Lau) either +immediately, or after the lapse of some time, goes to another world +that lies under this one and is called Maramiku. This world of spirits +is said to be just like the actual world, with forest and sea, and all +the familiar animal and vegetable species. The inhabitants spend their +time just as the Andamanese do on earth, hunting, fishing and dancing. + +Still another statement that is commonly made in the North is that the +spirits of the dead go to live in the sky. Two such statements are as +follows: “When a man dies his ot-ǰumulo (double) goes up to the sky and +becomes a Lau (spirit).” “A man’s spirit wanders in the jungle till the +flesh has rotted from the bones, and then goes away to the sky.” Other +statements were very similar to these two. + +Turning now to the Southern tribes, one informant of the A-Pučikwar +tribe gave me the following account: “When a man or woman dies the +spirit goes away to the east or north-east and goes over the edge of +the world, remaining in a place called Lau-l’uŋ-ciŋ (Spirit’s House) +where there is a large hut in a jungle similar to that on earth. There +they live just as men do on earth, hunting and fishing, and so on. +Beyond the home of the spirits is Puta-ko̱iča, the home of the sun and +moon. The rainbow is the path by which the spirits come to visit their +friends on earth, which they do in dreams. The rainbow is made of canes +(? a cane).” + +Another version from the same tribe was to the effect that after death +the spirits of the dead go to live in the sky with a mythical being +named Tomo. This Tomo, according to some of the legends, was the first +ancestor of the Andamanese. By one of my best informants he was +identified to some extent with the sun, and consequently with light and +with fine weather. This man stated that in the world of the spirits it +is never night as Tomo is always there. The spirits always have plenty +of pork and turtle, and spend their time dancing and enjoying +themselves. + +One old man of the A-Pučikwar tribe, who had some reputation as a +medicine-man, said that the spirits of medicine-men lived apart from +the spirits of ordinary men and women, and are called not Lau but +Bilik. He told me how he had been visited in a dream by Bo̱ičo Bilik; +that is by the spirit of one Bo̱ičo who had, when he lived, been a great +medicine-man, and who, now that he was dead, had become a Bilik, as +distinguished from an ordinary Lau. It is the Bilik who control the +weather. They can also cause or cure sickness in living men. The Bo̱ičo +mentioned above was alive when my informant was a young man. + +In the Akar-Bale tribe one man told me that the breath (ig-peti) of a +dying person goes up to the sky and becomes a spirit. Another belief of +the same tribe is that the spirits of the dead go to J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu, +which is under the earth. From the same tribe comes the following +account: “When a man or woman dies, the spirit first of all goes +southward to the country of the Aka-Bea, and then returns to +Gudna-l’ar-boŋ in Kuaičo-bur (in the Akar-Bale country). It then goes +to J̌ila-buaro in J̌ila (East Island) and from there to Kere-tuaur. The +inhabitants of the last-named place are warned of the approach of the +spirit by the cries of the birds tao (Eudynamis honorata, Indian koel +or brain-fever bird) and bil (Australian goggle-eyed plover). At one +time the people of Luŋ-tauar used to catch the spirits in big nets made +for the purpose. They were taught to do this by a wise woman named In +Golat. The spirits try to run away, but they get caught at the place +called Guamo-leber. The people then throw them into the sea, and they +(the spirits) then go to Čauga-l’uŋ-jiŋa (Spirit’s Home) and remain +there.” The above is given exactly as it was translated to me by an +Akar-Bale man who knew English and who acted as my interpreter on the +occasion. There is much in it that I do not understand and that my +questions failed to elucidate. It is given as an example of the nature +of some of the more obscure of the Andamanese beliefs. To understand +fully many of their statements on this and other matters would need a +more complete knowledge of the language than I possessed, and a longer +time than I was able to give. + +The various examples given above are sufficient to show the general +nature of the Andamanese beliefs. In every tribe there are alternative +and inconsistent beliefs as to the place where spirits go, which by +different accounts is in the sky, beneath the earth, out to the east +where the sun and moon take their rise, or in the jungle and sea of +their own country. One thing is clear, that the Andamanese ideas on the +subject are floating and lacking in precision. There is no fixity or +unanimity of belief amongst them. + +To these various accounts from the natives themselves, must be added +the description of the beliefs of the Aka-Bea tribe as recorded by Mr +Man. This may best be given in the writer’s own words. “The world, +exclusive of the sea, is declared to be flat and to rest on an immense +palm-tree (Caryota sobolifera) called barata, which stands in the midst +of a jungle comprising the whole area under the earth. This jungle, +čaitan (Hades) is a gloomy place, for, though visited in turn by the +sun and moon, it can, in consequence of its situation, be only +partially lighted: it is hither the spirits (čauga) of the departed are +sent by Puluga to await the Resurrection. + +“No change takes place in čaitan in respect to growth or age; all +remain as they were at the time of their departure from the earth, and +the adults are represented as engaged in hunting, after a manner +peculiar to disembodied spirits. In order to furnish them with sport +the spirits of animals and birds are also sent to čaitan, but as there +is no sea there, the čauga of fish and turtle remain in their native +element and are preyed upon by ǰuruwin. The spirits (čauga) and souls +(ot-yolo) of all children who die before they cease to be entirely +dependent on their parents (i.e. under six years of age) go to čaitan, +and are placed under a rau tree (Ficus laccifera) on the fruit of which +they subsist. As none can quit čaitan who have once entered, they +support their stories regarding it by a tradition that in ages long +past an oko-paiad was favoured in a dream with a vision of the regions +and of the pursuits of the disembodied spirits. + +“Between the earth and the eastern sky there stretches an invisible +cane bridge (pidga-l’ar-čauga) which steadies the former and connects +it with ǰereg (paradise); over this bridge the souls (ot-yolo) of the +departed pass into paradise, or to ǰereg-l’ar-mugu, which is situated +below it: this latter place might be described as purgatory, for it is +a place of punishment for those who have been guilty of heinous sins, +such as murder. Like Dante, they depict it as very cold, and therefore +a most undesirable region for mortals to inhabit. From all this it will +be gathered that these despised savages believe in a future state, in +the resurrection, and in the threefold constitution of man. + +“In serious illness the sufferer’s spirit (čauga) is said to be +hovering between this world and Hades, but does not remain permanently +in the latter place until some time after death, during which interval +it haunts the abode of the deceased and the spot where the remains have +been deposited. In dreams it is the soul which, having taken its +departure through the nostrils, sees or is engaged in the manner +represented to the sleeper. + +“The Andamanese do not regard their shadows but their reflections (in +any mirror) as their souls. The colour of the soul is said to be red, +and that of the spirit black, and, though invisible to human eyes, they +partake of the form of the person to whom they belong. Evil emanates +from the soul, and all good from the spirit; at the resurrection they +will be re-united and live permanently on the new earth, for the souls +of the wicked will then have been reformed by the punishments inflicted +on them during their residence in ǰereg-l’ar-mugu. + +“The future life will be but a repetition of the present, but all will +then remain in the prime of life, sickness and death will be unknown, +and there will be no more marrying or giving in marriage. The animals, +birds, and fish will also re-appear in the new world in their present +form. + +“This blissful state will be inaugurated by a great earthquake, which, +occurring by Puluga’s command, will break the pidga-l’ar-čauga and +cause the earth to turn over: all alive at the time will perish, +exchanging places with their deceased ancestors [87].” + +This account given by Mr Man, must, I think, be received with great +caution. To one who has talked to the Andamanese on these subjects it +seems probable that Mr Man has here combined into a single consistent +version, a number of independent statements, which, as the natives +believe them, are not parts of an organised doctrine, but are separate +from and often inconsistent with each other. Added to this there is the +fact that Mr Man has so written down the native beliefs as to bring out +the greatest possible degree of resemblance to the Christian mythology. +This is clear from his use of the words Hades, paradise, etc. Allowance +must therefore be made for the fact that Mr Man evidently found some +pleasure in tracing analogies between the mythology of the Andamanese +and the Christian doctrines. + +Owing to the importance attaching to all Mr Man’s statements it is +necessary to examine critically the account transcribed above. We may +begin with what is said of the doctrine of the threefold nature of man. +By this it would seem to be meant that man is regarded as composed of +body, soul and spirit. It is quite certain that the Andamanese mean +different things by the words ot-yolo (reflection) here translated +“soul,” and čauga translated “spirit.” The difference is this, that a +man, while he is still alive, has a “double” or “soul” if the latter +word be preferred, while when he is dead he becomes a spirit. Thus the +spirit is not a part of a man while he is alive. The word čauga (or +lau) is simply the name of a particular class of beings which includes +all dead men and women. The bones of a man become “spirit-bones” +(čauga-ta) when he dies, just as he becomes a spirit. To compare the +Andamanese belief with the Christian doctrine that each man possesses, +while he is alive, both a soul and a spirit, these being different +things, is therefore misleading. For this reason it is perhaps +unfortunate to translate the Andamanese čauga as meaning spirit, but +there does not seem to be any other convenient English word. + +Mr Man’s account would seem to imply that the native belief is that at +death the soul (reflection) of a man goes to one place (J̌ereg or +J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu) while his spirit goes elsewhere (to Čaitan). In the +case of children however, Mr Man makes a difference, for both the souls +and spirits of children go to Čaitan. Mr Man compares Čaitan to Hades, +J̌ereg to paradise and J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu to purgatory. + +I do not think that the Andamanese have any such complicated doctrine +as this. It seems to me almost certain that Mr Man has received from +the natives several different statements, similar to some of those +given earlier, and that he has combined and reconciled them as well as +he could. Some of his informants, apparently, described the world after +death as being beneath the earth, and gave the name of it as Čaitan +[88]. Other informants seem to have spoken of [vJ]ereg or +J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu. I think it improbable that any one native should have +stated, as Mr Man’s account would seem to imply, that the soul of a +dead man goes to one place, while the man himself (now a spirit) goes +somewhere else. Mr Man’s description of Čaitan corresponds almost +exactly to the descriptions given to me by the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar +of J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu, and to the descriptions of Maramiku given by the +Northern tribes. If Čaitan be really an Aka-Bea word, it would seem to +be only another name for J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu. + +One of the most important points in Mr Man’s statement is that while +the souls of good men go to paradise as he puts it, the souls of bad +men are condemned to torture in purgatory [89]. In my own enquiries I +did not come across any definite belief of this nature, but I am not +prepared to deny its existence. All that I can say is that I did not +find any evidence whatever that good men and bad men (in any meanings +in which those words could be used by the natives) receive different +treatment after death. In talking to men of the Akar-Bale and +A-Pučikwar tribes I did not hear of J̌ereg as a distinct place from +J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu. The latter name is of course a compound, from ar-mugu += front, and might mean either “the place fronting or facing J̌ereg” or +“the place J̌ereg, fronting us.” + +Mr Man states that the souls and spirits of young children go to Čaitan +where they subsist on the fruit of a rau tree (Ficus laccifera). In the +North Andaman I found a belief that the souls of children, before they +are born, live in the Ficus trees, but these are the real trees on +earth that are in question, and not a mythical tree in the next world. +It is commonly believed that if a baby dies the soul enters the mother +again and is born a second time. It is possible that what Mr Man +relates as to the souls of children after death living in a Ficus tree +in Čaitan may really refer to real fig trees on earth. + +As regards the resurrection spoken of by Mr Man, I was also so +unfortunate as to obtain no information. As will be shown in a later +chapter, there are several myths of the world coming to an end and +starting afresh, and these myths are generally associated with Puluga +or Biliku. All the versions that I heard, however, referred to the past +and not to the future [90]. + +The Andamanese speak of unconsciousness as “death,” and regard a person +who has been unconscious for some time as having been dead and returned +to life again. I was once told that an old man in the village was +“dead” and found him in a state of coma from which he recovered and +lived for several days. There are stories of persons having returned to +life even after they have been buried. One such tale was told me in the +North Andaman. A man died and was buried. As his friends and relatives, +after packing up their belongings, were leaving the camp in their +canoes, the man’s voice was heard calling. His wife and mother turned +back and met him and took him in their canoe. He lived for some time +after this and then he died and was buried again. Again the same thing +happened, the dead man re-appearing just as they were setting off in +their canoes from the camp that they were deserting on account of his +death. Finally the man died a third time. When he was buried this time +the men dug a very deep hole some distance from the camp, and then +hurried back to the camp and hastily gathered up their belongings and +left it. Nothing more was seen of the dead man, but when, after the +lapse of some months, they went to dig up the bones, they found the mat +and leaves and rope in which the corpse had been bound, but there were +no bones. + +Amongst the coast-dwellers of the North Andaman I found a belief that +the soul of a dying man goes out with the ebbing tide. + +There are, amongst the Andamanese, certain individuals who are +distinguished from their fellows by the supposed possession of +supernatural powers. These specially favoured persons correspond, to +some degree, with the medicine-men, magicians or shamans of other +primitive societies. The name for these medicine-men in the North +Andaman is oko-ǰumu, meaning literally “dreamer” or “one who speaks +from dreams” from a stem -ǰumu the primary meaning of which refers to +the phenomena of dreams. In Aka-Bea the corresponding term is +oko-paiad, and according to Mr Man, this term also means “dreamer.” Mr +Portman, however, gives taraba as the Aka-Bea word for “dream” or “to +dream.” + +According to a statement by Mr Man, only men can possess the powers +that entitle them to be regarded as oko-paiad [91]. The natives whom I +questioned told me that a woman may possess the same powers, though it +is more usual for men to become famous in this way than women. There is +no very clear dividing line between those who are oko-ǰumu or oko-paiad +and those who are not; one person may possess the powers in only a +slight degree, so as scarcely to differentiate him from others, while +another may be much more highly gifted. + +At the present time it is no longer possible to obtain full and +satisfactory information on this subject. Most of the old oko-ǰumu and +oko-paiad are now dead. Amongst the younger men there are a few who +pretend to the position, but the recent intercourse with foreigners has +produced a degree of scepticism in such matters that makes it difficult +or nearly impossible to obtain any reliable information as to the +former beliefs from any but the very old men. To this difficulty must +be added that in talking to some of the very few old men who could have +given more valuable information I had to make use of an interpreter, +and though they might have been willing to confide to me some of the +secrets of their profession they would not do so before a younger man +of their own race. + +The powers of a dreamer, supernatural as they are, can only be acquired +by supernatural means, through contact in one way or another with the +spirits (i.e. the Lau or Čauga). One way of coming into contact with +the spirits is by death. If a man should, as the natives put it, die +and then come back to life again, he is, by that adventure, endowed +with the power that makes a medicine-man. One man of the Aka-Ko̱ra tribe +was pointed out to me as having obtained his powers in this way. It +would seem that during a serious illness he was unconscious for some +twelve hours or so, and his friends thought that he was dead. A +medicine-man whom I met with in the A-Pučikwar tribe was said to have +died and come to life again three times. Another man, whom I did not +meet, was described to me as a great oko-ǰumu, and from the description +given it seemed to me that he was subject to epileptic fits. As against +this, however, Mr Man states that “epilepsy is a recognised form of +malady, but the fits are not regarded in a superstitious light [92].” + +Another way in which a man can acquire magical powers is by direct +communication with the spirits. A man who died a few years ago was +believed by the natives to have once met with some spirits in the +jungle, and to have acquired in this way the powers of an oko-ǰumu. He +used to go off into the jungle by himself at intervals and hold +communication with the spirits with whom he had made friends. From such +a visit he had returned with his head decorated with shredded palm-leaf +fibre (ko̱ro) which had, so he said, been placed on him by the spirits. +This man had a reputation as a powerful oko-ǰumu. + +In a less degree the powers of an oko-ǰumu may be obtained through +dreams. It is believed that certain men have the power of communicating +with the spirits in dreams, and such men are oko-ǰumu. If a man or boy +experiences dreams that are in any way extraordinary, particularly if, +in his dreams he sees spirits, either the spirits of dead persons known +to him when alive, or spirits of the forest or the sea, he may acquire +in time the reputation of a medicine-man. + +A man may claim some degree of magical power, and yet his claims may +not be recognized by others. Each oko-ǰumu has to make his own +reputation, and to sustain it when made. This he can only do by +demonstrating his power to others. Once this reputation is his, he not +only receives the respect of others but also makes a considerable +personal profit. Every one is anxious to be on good terms with one who +is believed to have extraordinary powers. Hence a man who is an +acknowledged oko-ǰumu is sure to receive a good share of the game +caught by others, and presents of all kinds from those who seek his +good-will. + +As the name implies, and in whatever way his power may have been +obtained, an oko-ǰumu is privileged to dream in a way that less +favoured persons do not. In his dreams he can communicate with the +spirits of the dead. In dreams, also, so the natives say, he is able to +cause the illness of an enemy or to cure that of a friend. + +By his communication with the spirits, in dreams, or in waking life, +the oko-ǰumu acquires magical knowledge that he is able to turn to +account in curing illness and in preventing bad weather. When a person +is ill the oko-ǰumu is often consulted as to the best means of treating +the patient. His treatment is often limited to the recommendation, or +the application, of some one or other of the recognized remedies. He +may undertake to dispel the spirits that are supposed to be the cause +of the disease, which he does by addressing them and conjuring them to +go away, or by the use of one or other of the substances and objects +that are believed to have the power of keeping spirits at a distance. +Sometimes the oko-ǰumu will promise to cure the patient by means of +dreams. It is believed that in his dreams he can communicate with the +spirits and can persuade them to help him to cure the sick person. + +Besides their power of causing or curing sickness, the oko-ǰumu are +credited with being able to control the weather. As has been shown, the +Andamanese believe that the weather is under the control of two beings +named Biliku and Tarai. There is, however, an alternative and +contradictory belief, which is also held, that the weather is +controlled by the spirits, and particularly by those of the sea. The +means taken by magicians or others to prevent bad weather can be +divided into two kinds according as they are directed against Biliku or +Tarai, or against the spirits of the sea. As an example of the very +simple rites which are performed for this purpose, two cases may be +quoted. One of the oko-ǰumu of the Northern tribes, now dead, once +stopped a very violent storm by crushing between two stones a piece of +the Anadendron paniculatum and diving with it into the sea where he +placed it under a rock on the reef. A more recent example is very +similar. A man still living, named J̌ire Pilečar, who was, in a way, the +successor of the man formerly mentioned, is said to have stopped a +violent storm by using the leaves and bark of the Ficus laccifera in +the same way, that is by crushing them and placing them under a rock in +the sea. In both these cases it would seem that the rite was directed +not against Biliku and Tarai, but against the J̌urua. + +Apart from his power to communicate directly with the spirits, the +oko-ǰumu owes his position to a superior knowledge of the magical +properties of common substances and objects. This knowledge he is +supposed to obtain from the spirits. However, a lesser degree of +knowledge on such matters is possessed by everybody. Thus in the +treatment of sickness there are a number of magical remedies of which +anyone can make use without consulting an oko-ǰumu. + +A complete enumeration of all the things that are believed to possess +magical properties is, of course, not possible, but the following notes +refer to all the most important. + +We may consider first of all the magical properties of mineral +substances. One of the most important of these is red ochre. Yellow +ochre, which is found in pockets in many parts of the islands, is +collected and burnt, when it turns red, and the powder so obtained is +either used by itself or is made into a paint with pig or turtle fat. +The powder is mixed with water and taken internally. Red paint is +applied to the throat and chest for coughs and colds and sore throats, +and round the ear for ear-ache. When a man feels unwell he often smears +red paint on his upper lip just below his nostrils. In this way, the +natives say, the “smell” of the paint cures his sickness. The paint is +sometimes used as a dressing for wounds or centipede bites. Its use for +ornamenting the body on ceremonial occasions has already been noted in +the last chapter. + +In the North Andaman a soft red stone is found, called talar. This is +used as a substitute for red paint. It is rubbed on the body, or it is +powdered and the powder is mixed with water and taken internally. + +White clay (to̱l-odu in Aka-J̌eru) is sometimes used medicinally, both +externally and internally. The commoner clay (odu in Aka-J̌eru) is +plastered on sores, and has the effect of keeping off flies, if it does +nothing else. + +An olive-coloured earth (called čulŋa in Aka-Bea), found in certain +springs, is prized as a remedy. It is mixed with water and taken +internally as a general remedy for all sorts of complaints. + +Turning now to the magical properties of vegetable substances, there +are a large number of these, and some of them have not been botanically +identified. + +The Anadendron paniculatum is a plant from which the Andamanese obtain +a valuable fibre, which they use for their bow-strings, and for thread +with which to make their arrows and harpoons. A number of magical +properties are attributed to this plant. Rheumatism is supposed to be +due to the “smell” of the plant getting into the system when the fibre +is being prepared [93]. The “smell” of the green plant, or of the fibre +until it has been thoroughly dried for some days, is believed to +frighten away turtle. A man who has been preparing the fibre would not +dream of joining a turtle-hunting expedition, for his presence in the +canoe would be sufficient to drive away all the turtle. A +turtle-hunting expedition would be a failure if a piece of the green +creeper were in the canoe. A man who has been handling the plant may +not cook turtle, for the meat would be “bad,” i.e., uneatable. The same +thing would happen if turtle meat accidentally came in contact with a +piece of the plant. All this applies only to the green creeper, and not +to the fibre after it has been properly prepared and dried. The fibre +itself is used for binding the heads of turtle-harpoons, so it is +evidently regarded as harmless. + +If a piece of the Anadendron creeper were burnt in the fire the natives +believe that it would drive all the turtle away from the neighbourhood, +or, according to another statement, that there would be a great storm. + +So far we have considered the properties of the plant only in so far as +they make it dangerous to handle. It has other and beneficial +properties. It is said that a man swimming in waters infested with +sharks would be safe from them if he had a piece of the Anadendron +creeper with him, in his belt or necklace. The creeper is also supposed +to preserve anyone who carries it from the attacks of the sea spirits +(J̌urua). + +The Hibiscus tiliaceus is a small tree from which the natives obtain +the fibre which they make into rope, used now for harpoon lines and in +former times for turtle-nets. The leaves of this tree are believed to +have the power of keeping away the spirits of the sea. They have no +efficacy, however, against the spirits of the forest. Leaves of the +Hibiscus tiliaceus are used in the turtle-eating ceremony described in +the last chapter. For cooking turtle the only wood that may be used is +the Hibiscus. If any other wood were used the meat would not be good. +In this connection it is necessary to point out an error in the +statements of Mr Man. He says that the wood of the alaba must never be +used for cooking turtle, though it may be used for cooking pig, and +that Puluga is angry if this commandment is not observed and sends +either the sun or moon to punish the offender [94]. There is evidently +an error here. The alaba is the Hibiscus tiliaceus. Mr Man identifies +it with the Melochia velutina, but this is an error. Now the custom in +connection with the Hibiscus (alaba) is not that it may not be used for +cooking turtle, but that no other kind of wood must be used. It is +difficult to see how Mr Man fell into the error, unless he mistook a +statement regarding the yo̱lba (Anadendron paniculatum) for a statement +relating to alaba (Hibiscus tiliaceus). We have just seen that if the +Anadendron comes in contact with turtle meat the meat will be bad, and +that if it is burnt there will be a storm. + +Another plant that provides fibre for thread is the Gnetum edule. There +is a belief that the green creeper of this plant will drive away +turtle, if a piece of it be taken in a canoe. + +Magical properties are attributed to the Ficus laccifera tree. These +trees are believed to be the home of the yet unborn souls of children. +I was told in the North Andaman that if a tree of the species were cut +there would be a storm. The bark of the aerial roots of the tree +affords a fibre used in the Little Andaman for bow-strings, but only +used in the Great Andaman for making personal ornaments. It is possible +that some magical properties are attributed to the ornaments made from +this fibre. + +The Pterocarpus dalbergioides is one of the most striking trees of the +Andamans. It has a very hard red wood, from which the natives make +their sounding-boards. There is an obscure belief in the A-Pučikwar +tribe (and possibly also in other tribes) that it is dangerous to look +at the tree when it is in flower. I was twice told a story of how some +people were affected by looking at the flowers, and either went mad or +died. On one occasion my interpreter translated the words of my +informant by saying “They saw the flowers, and went giddy, and they all +went to hell (J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu).” Men must be careful when the tree is +in flower, not to look at it too long. In the North Andaman I was told +that string games (ǰipre) must not be played when the Pterocarpus tree +is in flower. They may be indulged in with safety at any other time of +the year. (String games, according to one statement, were invented by +the Lau, while another account attributes the invention to the crab.) + +The Tetranthera lancæfolia is a small tree from which the natives +obtain the wood for the shafts of their pig arrows. The leaves of this +tree are believed to have the power to keep away the spirits of the +forest. They are used in the pig-eating ceremony described in the last +chapter. The wood is shredded and made into plumes, and these plumes +are believed to have magical properties. They are worn by a man who has +killed another, and are believed to protect him from the vengeance of +the spirit of the dead man. + +A common remedy for sickness of different kinds is a small tree called +gugma in Aka-Bea, which Mr Man identifies as being Trigonostemon +longifolius. The leaves of this tree are made into a bed for the +patient to lie upon. They are also crushed and rubbed over the +patient’s body, or he is made to inhale the odour of the crushed +leaves. The natives say that it is the “smell” of the plant that +possesses medical properties. The “smell” will drive away turtle, and +leaves should therefore not be taken in a canoe. A man who has been +handling the leaves would not go turtle-hunting. + +Another remedy is a species of Alpinia. The leaves and stems of this +plant are chewed and the juice swallowed for certain ailments. The +plant is also used when taking honey. A man takes some of the leaves in +his mouth and chews them well. Before taking the honeycomb he sprays +the saliva from his mouth over and around it. He may also rub the +chewed leaves over his body. The natives say that in this way they are +able to prevent the bees from stinging them. + +Magical properties are attributed to a number of plants that have not +been botanically identified. Thus the leaves of a small tree called +tare in Aka-J̌eru are crushed and moistened with water and rubbed over +the body as a remedy for illness. A strip of bark from the same tree is +tied round the chest of a man with a pain in his chest. The bark of two +trees called (in Aka-J̌eru) tip and laro is crushed and moistened and +rubbed over a sick man’s body. The leaves of a plant called pare are +crushed with water and the infusion is drunk by persons suffering from +diarrhœa and abdominal pains. A creeper called korotli is crushed and +tied round a limb in cases of snake-bite. The seeds of the Entada +scandens are heated in the fire and applied (while hot) to such wounds +as that from the tusk of a boar. + +There are a certain number of trees and plants about which the natives +say that any person cutting them will become blind. The names of four +of these in Aka-J̌eru are ǰin, burut, deŋ, and mit. + +We may turn now to animals and animal substances. Magical properties +are attributed to bees’-wax, particularly to black bees’-wax. In a case +of pleurisy black bees’-wax was heated until it was soft, and then +smeared over the man’s chest. Bees’-wax is believed to keep away the +spirits of the forest. + +If a man be bitten by a snake and the snake be killed it is skinned and +the inner surface of the skin is applied to the wound. + +A hiccough is supposed to be the result of inadvertently swallowing a +tree lizard, whose call rather resembles the sound of a person +hiccoughing. + +The condition popularly called “pins and needles” or described as an +arm or leg “going to sleep” is believed by the Andamanese to be due to +the bite of a rat. If a man wakes up in the night with one of his limbs +benumbed in this way, he believes that a rat has bitten him while he +slept. + +The Andamanese say that the bite of a civet-cat (Paradoxurus) will +produce cramp. I was once told that if a man eats the flesh of the +civet-cat and then goes into the water he will become “lame.” This +means, I think, that he will have cramp, and so will be unable to swim. + +The flesh and particularly the fat of the flying fox (Pteropus) is +believed to be a remedy for rheumatism. An old man who was suffering +from this ailment once asked me to shoot for him some of these bats, +which he cooked and ate. + +If turtle-fat be permitted to burn in the fire there will be a storm. + +Mention has already been made of the magical value attributed to human +bones. They are esteemed as a means of driving away spirits, and +therefore of curing or preventing sickness. A human jaw-bone was +hanging in my hut in such a position that it could swing in the wind. +The natives attributed to this the illness from which I and several of +them were suffering at the time, and asked me to put the bone away in a +basket, where it could not move. + +Bones of animals are made into ornaments in the same way as human +bones, and magical properties of a similar kind seem to be attributed +to them. + +Of other objects possessing magical properties the most important is +fire. Fire is believed to have the power of keeping away spirits of the +sea and of the forest. A fire is always kept alight beside a sick man +or woman. For dysentery stones are heated in a fire and the patient is +required to defecate on to these. + +In conclusion, mention must be made of one favourite remedy of the +Andamanese, namely scarification. The part of the body that is the seat +of pain is scarified, as the forehead for headaches, the cheek for +toothache. A number of very small incisions are made in the skin close +together, with a sharp flake of quartz or glass. The incisions are just +deep enough to cut through the skin and cause a little blood to ooze +out, but not so deep as to produce a flow of blood. The operation is +the work of women. It is probably more frequently used than any other +remedy except red paint and human bones. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +MYTHS AND LEGENDS + + +The Andamanese have a number of stories which are told to the younger +people by their elders and relate to the doings of their ancestors in a +time long ago. Some of these stories are recorded in the present +chapter. A difficulty in the way of giving any clear and readable +account of them is the fact that there are many slightly different +versions of one and the same legend. To some extent the variations are +local, each tribe, and even each portion of a tribe having its own set +of legendary stories. Besides these local variations there are also +individual variations. Two men of the same tribe may relate what is +substantially the same story, yet each chooses his own words and +gestures, and to some extent they may even arrange the incidents +differently. + +In the last chapter it was mentioned that there are certain +individuals, known as oko-ǰumu in the North Andaman and oko-paiad in +the South, who are believed to have special knowledge as to the spirits +and as to the magical efficacy of remedies for sickness. It is these +oko-ǰumu also who are the authorities on the legendary lore of the +Andamanese. In the case of magical remedies there is a certain common +stock of beliefs as to the efficacy to be attributed to different +substances, such as leaves of different plants, and on the basis of +these beliefs the oko-ǰumu elaborates the remedies that he uses in +particular cases. Each oko-ǰumu, however, prides himself on being, to +some extent, original. An example of this has been already mentioned. +When a great storm arose an oko-ǰumu of one of the Northern tribes +succeeded in stopping it (in the belief of the natives) by placing a +piece of the crushed stem of the Anadendron creeper under a particular +stone in the sea. On a later occasion another storm arose, and the +successor of the first-mentioned oko-ǰumu was appealed to that he might +exert his powers. He did not simply imitate his predecessor, but he +placed a piece of crushed bark and twigs of the Ficus laccifera in the +sea under a different stone. In very much the same way there is a +common stock of beliefs as to the events that took place in the time of +the ancestors, but each oko-ǰumu builds up on this basis his own +particular set of legends, so that it is rarely that two of them tell +the same story in the same way. An oko-ǰumu may obtain for himself a +reputation by relating legends of the ancestors in a vivid and amusing +way. Such a man would be able to invent new stories by combining +together in his own way some of the traditional incidents. The desire +on the part of each oko-ǰumu to be original and so to enhance his own +reputation is a fertile source of variation in the legends. + +This lack of traditional form, which is a very important characteristic +of the Andamanese mythology, may be compared with their lack of +traditional songs. Just as every man composes his own songs, so, within +certain limits, every oko-ǰumu relates in his own way the legends of +his tribe. But whereas every man is a composer of songs, only a certain +number are regarded as having authority to speak on the legends. + +Underlying the legends of any tribe there are a certain number of +beliefs or representations with which every native is familiar. It is +on the basis of these that the oko-ǰumu elaborates his own doctrine, if +we may call it so, which he hands on to his followers, who in turn may +become oko-ǰumu and produce further slight modifications of their own. +Thus the legends are continually being changed, though in any one +generation the changes introduced are slight, and it would take a long +time for important changes in belief to be brought about. There is +evidence, however, that a succession of leading men in the A-Pučikwar +tribe have succeeded in introducing a new doctrine as to the weather, +making Bilik the name of a class of beings instead of the name of a +single being, and that this doctrine, while it has not entirely ousted +the former beliefs, has yet succeeded in gaining currency not only in +the A-Pučikwar tribe, but also in the Aka-Ko̱l and O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i tribes. + +At the present time it is only possible to recover a small part of the +many different legends with their variants. The introduction of many +new interests into the lives of the natives, through the European +settlement and the many changes it has produced, has caused the ancient +legends to be neglected. Most of the old oko-ǰumu have died without +leaving any followers to take their place. Many of the legends recorded +here are merely what some of the men not specially skilled in legendary +lore can remember of the stories told them in former days by oko-ǰumu +who are now dead. + +One feature of the legends that must be pointed out is their +unsystematic nature. The same informant may give, on different +occasions, two entirely different versions of such a thing as the +origin of fire, or the beginning of the human race. The Andamanese, to +all appearance, regard each little story as independent, and do not +consciously compare one with another. They thus seem to be entirely +unconscious of what are obvious contradictions to the student of the +legends. It is necessary to emphasise the fragmentary and unsystematic +nature of the Andaman mythology because Mr Man, in his work on the +Andamanese, has brought together a number of legends from the tribes of +the South Andaman and has combined them into a continuous and fairly +consistent narrative, and has thus, undoubtedly not intentionally, +given a wrong impression to the reader of what the nature of the +disconnected stories really is. While each of the stories included in +Mr Man’s account is derived directly from the natives, it would seem +certain that the arrangement of them into a more or less consistent +narrative is due to Mr Man. + +In recording the legends in this chapter, only the English translation +is given. In some cases the legends were translated on the spot and +written down in English. In other cases they were written down in the +native language and then translated. When I was recording the legends I +very frequently had to ask what was meant by a particular statement, +the meaning of which might be quite clear to a native, but which was +obscure to one not accustomed to thinking in the same way as the +natives. In some cases I could obtain no satisfactory explanation, and +such legends are given in this chapter in as nearly as possible an +exact literal translation of the original. In other cases the +explanations given by the natives have been incorporated in the +translation itself. + +In order to give the reader a fair idea of the nature of the legends as +they are told, one is here given in the native language (Aka-Čari) with +a word-for-word translation. + + + A Maia Dik iǰokoduko; o ko̱nmo teč inǰukte̱rto̱ia; + Sir Prawn makes fire; yam leaf catches fire; + + ko̱nmo teč bi ikterbie; kete uiǰoko; uiǰokobiko; + yam leaf is dry; that one it burns; he makes a fire; + + Maia Dik ubenoba; Maia Totemo emato; uǰokil uektebalo; + Sir Prawn slept; Sir Kingfisher takes; he fire with he runs away + + Maia Totemo ǰokobiko; Maia Totemo taǰeo ubiko; + Sir Kingfisher makes a fire; Sir Kingfisher fish (food) cooks; + + upetil ubeno; Maia Mite ǰuktebalo uemato. + his belly in he sleeps; Sir Dove runs away taking. + + +The above translation is hardly comprehensible without a little +explanation. The word iǰoko means “something burns,” the word ubiko +means “he cooks (by roasting).” The compound iǰokobiko may mean either +“he makes a fire and cooks something at it” or it may simply mean “he +makes up a fire (by adding firewood).” The word iǰokoduko has a quite +different meaning, “to produce fire.” The derivation of inǰukte̱rto̱ia is +uncertain, as I am not sure of the proper use of er-to̱ia; it is +translated on the basis of the explanation given me by the man who told +the story. The word ikterbie is descriptive of the dryness of dead +leaves. + +A free translation would be as follows: “It was Sir Prawn who first +produced or obtained fire. Some yam leaves, being shrivelled and dry by +reason of the hot weather, caught fire and burnt. The prawn made a fire +with some firewood and went to sleep. The kingfisher stole fire and ran +away with it. He made a fire and cooked some fish. When he had filled +his belly he went to sleep. The dove stole fire from the kingfisher and +ran away.” It is implied that it was the dove who gave the fire to the +ancestors of the Andamanese. + +Versions of legends of the origin of fire are given by Mr Portman, in +each of the languages of the Southern group of tribes. [95] + +All the legends relate to events that are supposed to have happened in +the past, and deal with the doings of the ancestors of the Andamanese. +In the North Andaman the ancestors are sometimes called Lau t’er-kuro, +i.e. the big spirits, “big” being used in the sense of our word +“chief.” Another term for them is N’a-mai-koloko, from n’ or nio = +they, aka-mai = father, and koloko = people, so that the phrase +literally means “the father people,” or the ancestors. In the South +Andaman the ancestors are sometimes called Čauga tabaŋa, which is the +equivalent of Lau t’er-kuro. Mr Man seems to have misunderstood the +exact meaning of this term. He writes: “Lači Lora-lola, the chief of +the survivors from the Deluge [96], gave, at his death, the name of +Čauga tabaŋa to their descendants.... The Čauga tabaŋa are described as +fine tall men with large beards, and they are said to have been long +lived, but, in other respects and in their mode of living they did not +differ from the present inhabitants. The name seems to have been borne +till comparatively recent times, as a few still living are said to +remember having seen the last of the so-called Čauga tabaŋa [97].” + +Mr Man has evidently not realised that the term čauga cannot be applied +to any living Andamanese, but may be applied to every dead one. The +Čauga are the spirits of dead natives, and new Čauga are continually +coming into existence by death. Any person who is of such importance +when alive as to form the subject of legends or stories after his death +may be distinguished (after his death only) as a Čauga tabaŋa. The name +may thus be applied to the purely mythical ancestors of the legends, +and also to the spirits of men recently dead whose memory is preserved +owing to fame acquired in some way when they were alive. It is thus +possible that some of the natives with whom Mr Man formerly conversed +are now Čauga tabaŋa, i.e. big spirits, having been “big men” when they +were alive. + +Another name sometimes used in the South Andaman to denote the +ancestors is Tomo-la [98]. This word, however, is sometimes used in the +singular to denote the mythical first man. Its use is thus similar to +that of the name Bilik in the A-Pučikwar tribe, which is used both as +the name of a single mythical being and also as the name of a class of +beings. Only the early ancestors of the Andamanese, i.e. those about +whom the legends are related, can be called Tomo-la. + +Among the ancestors who appear in the legends there are a few who bear +names that are used as personal names of men and women at the present +time, and who appear in the legends simply as men and women. The larger +number of the ancestors, however, bear names that are those of species +of animals. In each case the ancestor is identified with the species +which bears the same name. Yet others of the mythical ancestors have +names that are neither personal names at the present day, nor names of +animals. It may perhaps be supposed that in all such cases the name has +some sort of meaning, but in many instances it was not found possible +to discover the meaning with certainty. + +When speaking of the ancestors, the natives generally add to the name +the appropriate title. These titles are, in the North Andaman Maia +(Sir) and Mimi (Lady), in Akar-Bale Da (Sir) and In (Lady), and in +Aka-Bea Maia and Čana. + +There are legends as to the origin of mankind, i.e., of their own race, +for they did not recognize, until recently, the existence of any men of +other races than their own, calling aliens Lau (spirits). There is, +however, no unanimity in their beliefs as to how mankind originated, +even in any one tribe. An Aka-Bo legend is as follows: + +“The first man was J̌utpu [99]. He was born inside the joint of a big +bamboo, just like a bird in an egg [100]. The bamboo split and he came +out. He was a little child. When it rained he made a small hut for +himself and lived in it. He made little bows and arrows. As he grew +bigger he made bigger huts, and bigger bows and arrows. One day he +found a lump of quartz and with it he scarified himself. J̌utpu was +lonely, living all by himself. He took some clay (ko̱t) from a nest of +the white ants and moulded it into the shape of a woman. She became +alive and became his wife. She was called Ko̱t. They lived together at +Teraut-buliu. Afterwards J̌utpu made other people out of clay. These +were the ancestors. J̌utpu taught them how to make canoes and bows and +arrows, and how to hunt and fish. His wife taught the women how to make +baskets and nets and mats and belts, and how to use clay for making +patterns on the body.” + +The same story was told me by Aka-J̌eru men, the only difference being +that they gave the name of the place where J̌utpu lived differently, +mentioning a spot in the Aka-J̌eru country. + +From the Aka-J̌eru I also obtained what is really another version of the +same legend, though the name of the first ancestor is given +differently. “The first man came out of the buttress of a po̱ičo +(Sterculia) tree, and was called Po̱ičotobut (Sterculia buttress). He +had no wife, so he cohabited with an ant’s nest (ko̱t) and thus obtained +a large number of children. These were the first Andamanese, and +Po̱ičotobut taught them all their arts and customs. Po̱ičotobut lived at +Bo̱ro̱ŋ Buliu (in Aka-J̌eru country).” + +The association between the origin of the Andamanese and an ant’s nest +(ko̱t) is retained in another legend, told by an Aka-J̌eru man. “Tarai +(the south-west monsoon) was the first man. His wife was Ko̱t. They +lived at Tarai-era-poŋ [101]. Their children were Tau (the sky), Bo̱to +(wind), Piribi (storm), and Air (the foam on a rough sea).” + +An entirely different legend, of which, however, I could not obtain a +detailed version, is also found in the Aka-J̌eru tribe. This is to the +effect that the first living being was Maia Čara [102]. He made the +earth, and caused it to be peopled with inhabitants. He also made the +sun and moon. In the last chapter Čara was mentioned as a mythical +being associated with the sun, with daylight and with fine weather. One +of my informants of the Aka-J̌eru tribe said that Čara had a wife named +Nimi (a common personal name), and that his children were Čeo (knife), +Ino (water), Loto, and Luk. It is Maia Čara, according to one commonly +received account, who makes the daylight every day. + +I could not obtain any Aka-Kede legend as to the origin of mankind. One +informant of that tribe said that it was Bilika (the north-east +monsoon) who made the world and the first men and women, but he could +give me no detailed legend. + +In the Aka-Ko̱l and A-Pučikwar tribes there are several versions of a +legend that makes the monitor lizard (Varanus salvator) the progenitor +of the Andaman race. In all the versions there is no mention of how the +lizard himself originated. The following was told me by an Aka-Ko̱l man. +“When Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard) was aka-go̱i (i.e. unmarried, but +having completed the initiation ceremonies), he went into the jungle to +hunt pig. He climbed up a Dipterocarpus tree, and got stuck there +[103]. Beyan (civet-cat, Paradoxurus) found him there, stuck in the +tree. She released him and helped him to get down. The two got married. +Their children were the Tomo-la (i.e. the ancestors).” + +Another legend telling how the monitor lizard obtained a wife was +related to me on more than one occasion by A-Pučikwar men. “The first +of the ancestors (Tomo-la) was Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard). He lived +at Tomo-la-tog. At first he had no wife. One day, when he was out +fishing, he found a piece of black wood of the kind called ko̱lotat +(Diospyros sp.). He found it in the creek, and brought it to his hut, +where he put it on the little platform over the fire [104]. He sat down +by the fire and set to work over an arrow that he was making. As he +bent over his work he did not see what was happening. By and by he +heard some one laugh, and looked up. Then he saw that the piece of wood +had turned into a woman. He got up and took her down from the platform. +She sat down with him and became his wife. They had a son named Po̱i (a +species of small bird, possibly a woodpecker), and afterwards many +other children. They lived together for a long time at Tomo-la-tog. One +day Ta Pe̱tie went fishing and was drowned in the creek. He turned into +a kara-duku.” + +There is some doubt about the translation of the word kara-duku. It is +an Aka-Bea word, although it was used as given above, by an A-Pučikwar +man. Mr Man translates it “cachalot.” Mr Portman says that kara-duku is +“crocodile,” but that the cachalot, the proper name of which is +biriga-ta, is also sometimes called kara-duku [105]. The only authority +for the existence of crocodiles in the Andamans is the statement of Mr +Portman, who says that the natives killed one in the Middle Andaman and +brought the bones to him. Although I was in many of the creeks of the +Andamans at different times I never saw a crocodile, and none of the +other officers of the Settlement, who have repeatedly explored a large +part of the islands, ever seems to have seen one, so that the one +recorded by Mr Portman may possibly have been a single one that had +come oversea from the mainland of Asia. + +Another A-Pučikrwa account of the origin of the first woman Ko̱lotat, is +as follows: “At first there were no women, only men. A man called +Ko̱lotat came to live in the A-Pučikwar country. Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor +Lizard) caught him and cut off his genitals and made him into a woman. +She became his wife. Their children were the first of the ancestors +(Tomo-la).” + +Another account given by members of the A-Pučikwar tribe is that the +first man was Tomo, or Tomo-la. One version that I heard is that Tomo +made the world and peopled it with the ancestors. He made the moon +(Puki) who is his wife. Tomo and his wife invented all the arts of the +Andamanese and taught them to the ancestors. After his death Tomo went +to live in the sky, where he now is. It is Tomo who sends the fine +weather, while Bilik sends the bad weather. In the world where Tomo now +lives it is always daylight and is always fine. When men die their +spirits go up to the sky and live with Tomo. The man who gave me this +version said that he did not know how Tomo originated, but was quite +sure that he was not made by Bilik. Tomo came first and Bilik came +afterwards. The Andamanese are all the children of Tomo [106]. + +In disagreement with this story, another man of the same tribe said +that Tomo was made by Bilik. He (i.e., Tomo) had a wife Mita (Dove), +and they were the ancestors of the Andamanese. Yet another informant +said: “Ta Tomo was the first man. He made bows and arrows and canoes. +His canoes were made of the wood of the Pandanus tree. Mita (Dove) was +his wife. It was she who first made nets and baskets and discovered the +uses of red paint and white clay.” When I asked how Tomo and his wife +originated my informant replied that he did not know. + +A species of bird (perhaps a woodpecker), called Po̱i in A-Pučikwar and +Ko̱io in Aka-Ko̱l, is often said to have been the son of Tomo. I was once +told that Ko̱io was the first of the Andamanese, from whom they are all +descended, and that his wife was Mita. Another informant said that +Pe̱tie (Monitor Lizard) was the first man and Mita was his wife, while +still another stated that Ta Mita (Sir Dove) was the progenitor of the +race, making the dove male instead of female. These different versions +will give some idea of the contradictory nature of the statements of +the Andamanese. All of them come from only two tribes, the A-Pučikwar +and the Aka-Ko̱l. + +From the Akar-Bale tribe I obtained the following legend. “Puluga made +the first of the ancestors. He made one man and one woman called Nyali +and Irap [107]. He gave them fire, and taught them how to hunt and +fish, and how to make bows and arrows and baskets and nets. The place +where they lived is called Irap because they lived there [108].” + +Another Akar-Bale version is that the first man was Da Duku (Sir +Monitor Lizard), and that his wife was In Bain (Lady Civet-cat). + +Mr E. H. Man, in his account of the South Andaman, says that there are +a few discrepancies in their accounts of the creation and origin of the +human species, but in the main features all the natives with whom he +spoke are agreed. The world was created by Puluga, who then made a man +named Tomo, the first of the human race. Tomo was black, like the +present Andamanese, but was much taller and bearded. Puluga showed him +the various fruit-trees in the jungle, which then existed only at +Wota-emi, a spot in the country of the A-Pučikwar tribe. The wife of +Tomo was Čana Elewadi (Lady Crab), and as to her origin there are +different legends. According to some, Puluga created her after he had +taught Tomo how to sustain life; others say that Tomo saw her swimming +near his home and called to her, whereupon she landed and lived with +him; while a third story represents her as coming pregnant to Kyd +Island, where she gave birth to several male and female children, who +subsequently became the progenitors of the present race. Tomo had two +sons and two daughters by Čana Elewadi; the names of the former were +Biro-la and Bo̱ro-la, and of the latter Rie-la and Čo̱rmi-la. + +A story that tells how Tomo came to his end states that one day, while +hunting, he fell into the creek called Yara-tig-ǰig and was drowned. He +was at once transformed into a kara-duku (which Mr Man translates as +“cachalot”). Čana Elewadi, ignorant of the accident that had befallen +her husband, went in a canoe with some of her grandchildren to +ascertain the cause of his continued absence; on seeing them, Kara-duku +upset their skiff and drowned his wife and most of her companions. She +became a small crab, of a description still named after her, elewadi, +and the others were transformed into lizards (duku). Another version of +this story is that, wearied with an unsuccessful day’s hunting, Tomo +went to the shore, where he found a čidi (Pinna) shell-fish; while +playing with it, it fastened on him, and he was unable to free himself +until a baian (Paradoxurus) seized the čidi and liberated him at the +expense of one of his members. Shortly after this he saw his wife and +some of their children coming after him in a canoe; unwilling that they +should become aware of the misfortune that had befallen him he upset +the canoe, drowning its occupants and himself. He then became +kara-duku, and the others duku, which are now plentiful in the jungles +[109]. + +In some of the preceding legends reference is made to Biliku or Puluga. +There is a very general belief, in all parts of the islands, that in +the time of the ancestors, Biliku or Puluga lived on earth. Each tribe +has at least one spot in its territory that is pointed out as the place +where Biliku (or Puluga) lived. In some tribes there are three or four +such places, each of which is claimed as the original home of Biliku by +the people living in the neighbourhood. In many cases the name of the +spot contains a reference to the legend, as Puluga l’od-baraiǰ (the +village of Puluga) in Akar-Bale or Biliku era-poŋ (the cave of Biliku) +in the North Andaman. + +I was able to obtain a few legends relating to the time when Biliku +lived on earth, though there were probably many more that I was not +fortunate enough to hear. + +The following is an Aka-J̌eru legend: + +“In the time of the ancestors Biliku lived at Ar-ko̱l. One day the +people caught a turtle and brought it to the camp. Biliku was sitting +there. They asked her if she would eat some of it. She said ‘No.’ They +put the meat in the roof of the hut and went away. When they had gone +Biliku ate the whole turtle. Then she went to sleep. The people came +back and found the turtle gone. They said ‘Biliku has eaten it.’ They +left the camp and all went to Tebi-čiro. They left Biliku asleep. Some +of the people went to hunt for turtle. Their canoe passed near Ar-ko̱l. +Biliku saw the people in the canoe. She called to them and asked to be +taken with them. The people refused saying ‘You ate up all the turtle.’ +Biliku had a round stone and several be shells (pearl shells). She +threw the shells at the people in the canoe. The first shell did not +hit them but came back and fell at her feet; and so also with the +second. Then Biliku got very angry and threw a third time. The shell +struck the canoe and killed all the people in it. The canoe and its +occupants became a reef of rocks that is still there. The other people +at Tebi-čiro called across to Biliku saying ‘Come over here.’ She +answered ‘Very well! I am coming.’ She took the stone that she had and +put it in the sea, and it floated. She got on to it to cross over. When +she had got half way across Biliku and her stone sank in the sea. They +became two big rocks that are there still.” This legend refers to the +west coast of the North Andaman. The pearl shells that Biliku throws +seem to be lightning, and the round stone the one that she rolls about +to make thunder. + +A few other statements about Biliku and Tarai from the four tribes of +the North Andaman are given below just as they were taken down in my +note-books. + +(1) “Biliku lived at Pura-’ra-poŋ in the time of the ancestors. Her +husband was Pe̱rǰido and her children Totaimo, Mite (cicada) and Tarai. +She made the sun and the moon. It was she who first invented all the +things that are now made and used by women, such as baskets, nets, +etc., and it was she who discovered fire, and who first discovered the +use of edible roots such as ko̱nmo and mino (two species of Dioscorea).” + +(2) “Biliku used to live at Čaura. She had a husband Tarai and a son +Pe̱rǰido, and a daughter Mite. She used to live only on certain +vegetable foods, lo̱ito, pata, bui, čo, ko̱nmo and mino and others. It +was Biliku who made the earth (the forest, ti-miku). She began at +Čaura.” + +(3) “Biliku lived at Ar-Ko̱l in the time of the ancestors. Her husband +was Tarai and their children were the birds, To̱ro̱i, Taka, Čoto̱t, +Poruatoko, Kelil, Mite, Čo̱pčura, Benye, Biratkoro, Čereo, Milidu, +Bobelo, Ko̱lo, and Teo.” (Aka-J̌eru.) + +(4) “Biliku lived at Poroket. She was unmarried. She had a son Pe̱rǰido, +and her other children were To̱ro̱i, Čelene, Čoto̱t and Čerei. (These four +are the names of birds.) It was Pe̱rǰido who invented all the arts of +the Andamanese such as their bows and arrows, etc.” (Aka-Bo?) + +(5) “Biliku used to live at Peč-meo with her husband To̱ro̱i (a bird). +She used to eat lo̱ito, and when anyone else ate that root she was +angry. Tarai lived at Čaroŋa with his wife Kelil (a bird). He ate only +mikulu.” (Aka-Ko̱ra.) + +(6) “Tarai has very long legs and a short body. He used to live on a +small island beyond Interview Island, which is now submerged. When +Tarai goes to sleep he breathes very heavily and this makes the wind.” + +The next is an Aka-Kede legend. “In the days of the ancestors Bilika +lived at Purum-at-čape in the Aka-Kede country, with her husband +Po̱ro̱kul. One day Po̱ro̱kul was out hunting. He returned with a pig that +he had killed and came to the creek on the other side of which was his +home (Co̱ti-te̱r-buli Buliu). Laden as he was with the pig he could not +swim across the creek. Bilika was sleeping, but her children were +playing near and saw their father on the other side of the creek. They +ran and told their mother that their father was coming but could not +cross the creek. Bilika went and lay down on one bank of the creek and +stretched out her leg so that it reached the other bank. Po̱ro̱kul walked +across her leg and so reached home.” + +While it is clear from this legend that Bilika was of super-human size, +the same was also true of her husband, if we may judge from another +legend. “Po̱ro̱kul made for himself a bow (of the large southern +pattern), with which to shoot pig. At this time the sky was low down +near the earth, only just above the tops of the trees. When Po̱ro̱kul had +finished his bow he lifted it upright. The top of it struck the sky and +lifted it up to its present position where it has remained ever since.” + +In another legend from another part of the Aka-Kede tribe Bilika is +spoken of as being male. “Bilika lived at Po̱ro̱ŋ-et-čo with his wife +Mite. They had a child. The ancestors ate Bilika’s food, lo̱ito and kata +and other plants. Bilika was very angry. He used to smell their mouths +to see if they had eaten his food. When he found a man or woman who had +done so he would cut his throat. The ancestors were very angry with +Bilika, because he killed the men and women when they ate his foods. +They all came together and killed Bilika and his wife Mite. Maia Burto +(a species of fish) took the child (of Bilika) away to the north-east.” + +Owing to my lack of knowledge of the Aka-Kede language there are some +points of the above legend that remain obscure. I think that the child +of Bilika is also named Bilika, and that it is he (or she) who now +lives in the north-east and sends the storms. The plants (lo̱ito, kata, +etc.), called here the “food” of Bilika, are those mentioned in the +last chapter as specially belonging to Bilika, who is angry when the +natives eat them. As regards the name, Mite, of Bilika’s wife, I do not +know whether this is the name of the bronze-winged dove, or of the +cicada. In some of the Andamanese languages the names of these two are +very similar, the only difference being a very slight one in the way of +pronouncing the two vowels. + +The A-Pučikwar people who live on the east coast of Baratang Island say +that in the beginning the ancestors lived at a place called Wota-emi, +and Bilik lived opposite to them across the strait at a place called +To̱l-l’oko-tima. In a rock at Wota-emi there is a large peculiarly +shaped hollow. This is said to be where Bilik used to sit when he was +on earth. + +An Akar-Bale legend is as follows. “In the days of the ancestors Puluga +lived at J̌ila off the east coast of Henry Lawrence Island and the +ancestors lived at Puluga l’od-baraiǰ (the village of Puluga) on the +main island just opposite to J̌ila. Puluga was always getting angry with +the ancestors, because they dug up yams and ate čakan (Entada scandens) +and barata (Caryota sobolifera). When he was angry he used to destroy +their huts and property. So the people sent him out of the world, +saying ‘We do not want you here. You are always angry with us.’ Puluga +went away to the north-east.” + +It is worth while to note that J̌ila is north-east from Puluga +l’od-baraiǰ, just as To̱l-l’oko-tima is north-east from Wota-emi. In +both cases there is a narrow strait between the place where the +ancestors lived and the home of Puluga or Bilik. + +There are a number of different legends that relate how the ancestors +first obtained fire [110]. In many of these legends there is a +reference to Biliku or Puluga. A common statement in the North Andaman +is that “Fire was stolen from Biliku by Maia Tiritmo (Sir Kingfisher).” +Some of the legends give further details. An Aka-Čari legend is as +follows: + +“Biliku had a red stone and a pearl shell (be). She struck them +together and obtained fire. She collected firewood and made a fire. She +went to sleep. Mite (the bronze-winged dove) came and stole fire. He +made a fire for himself. He gave fire to all the people in the village. +Afterwards fire was given to all the places. Each village had its own.” + +The next is an Aka-J̌eru version. + +“In the days of the ancestors they had no fire. Biliku had fire. While +Biliku slept Maia Lirčitmo (Sir Kingfisher) came and stole fire. As he +was taking the fire Biliku awoke and saw him. Lirčitmo swallowed the +fire. Biliku took a pearl shell (be) and threw it at Lirčitmo and cut +off his head. The fire came out (of his neck). The ancestors got the +fire. Lirčitmo became a bird.” + +The next is also, I believe, an Aka-J̌eru story. “Maia Tiritmo (Sir +Kingfisher) lived at Tolepar Buruin. He had no fire. When he caught +fish he had no fire with which to cook it. He went to the place where +Čo̱kčura (heron) lived. There was no fire there. Tiritmo took some +rotten wood of the piń tree and hit it on a rock, and thus made fire. +He gave fire to Čo̱kčura. Čo̱kčura gave fire to Totemo (a species of +kingfisher). Totemo gave it to all the others.” + +A slightly different and less detailed version of the same story is as +follows: + +“Tiritmo made fire. Totemo stole fire (from Tiritmo) and gave it to +Mo̱ičo (Rail). Mo̱ičo gave fire to all the people.” + +The next version, which was taken down in Aka-J̌eru, I did not fully +understand. + +“Some one shot an arrow. The arrow hit the hill of fire. Tiriń (a +species of kingfisher) found the arrow. It was on fire. He took the +fire to his camp. He would not give fire to any one. The others asked +him. They went to their homes. At night they came to Tiriń’s hut and +stole fire. They went away, each to his own place.” + +There is a certain amount of obscurity about two other versions, which +are given in a translation as nearly literal as possible. “Maia Dik +(Sir Prawn) made fire. Some ko̱nmo (yam) leaves caught fire, being dry. +Maia Dik made a fire. Maia Dik slept. Maia Totemo (Sir Kingfisher) +stole fire and ran away. Maia Totemo made a fire. He cooked fish. When +he had eaten, he slept. Maia Mite (Sir Dove) stole fire (from Totemo) +and ran away.” + +The other is as follows. “Piribi got fire from a stone. He threw fire +at Bilika. It set some ko̱nmo (yam) leaves on fire. Čo̱rolo (Parrot) got +fire (from the burning leaves). He gave it to the ancestors.” + +These two legends were taken down in Aka-Čari, but they are perhaps +really Aka-Ko̱ra or Aka-J̌eru stories. I have the word piribi in my notes +as meaning a storm, but the translation is doubtful. + +The next is an Aka-Kede version of what is the most widespread of the +legends. + +“The ancestors had no fire. Bilika had fire. The ancestors tried to +steal fire from Bilika. Lirtit (Kingfisher) went one night while Bilika +was sleeping and stole fire. Bilika awoke and saw him going away with +the fire. She threw a pearl shell (ba) at him, which cut off his wings +and his tail. Lirtit dived into the water and swam with the fire to +Bet-’ra-kudu and gave it to Te̱pe. Te̱pe gave fire to Mite (the +bronze-winged dove). Mite gave it to the others [111].” + +An Aka-Kede legend of the origin of the sun may conveniently be given +in this place, as it is connected with the possession of fire by +Bilika. “Bilika made fire of purum wood. One day, when she was very +angry, she started throwing fire about. One large fire-brand she threw +into the sky, and there it became the sun.” This legend explains the +name of the place Purum-at-čape, at which Bilika is said to have lived +when on earth. Purum is the name of a tree, not identified; at means +either “fire” or “fire-wood,” and čape means a village or a hut. The +whole word therefore means “Purum fire village.” + +I did not obtain any legend of the origin of fire from the Oko̱-J̌uwo̱i +and Aka-Ko̱l tribes, but a version from each of these tribes has been +given by Mr Portman. A translation of Mr Portman’s Oko̱-J̌uwo̱i story is +as follows [112]. “Mo̱m Mirit [113] stole a fire-brand from +Kuro-t’on-mika while Bilik was sleeping. He gave the brand to the late +Leč, who then made fire at Karat-tatak-emi.” + +Mr Portman’s Aka-Ko̱l story is somewhat obscure. “Bilik was sleeping at +To̱l-l’oko-tima. Luratut (Kingfisher) took away fire to Oko-emi. Ko̱lotat +went to Min-to̱ŋ-ta (taking with him fire from Oko-emi). At Min-to̱ŋ-ta +the fire went out. Ko̱lotat broke up the charred firewood and made fire +again (by blowing up the embers). They (the people there) became alive. +Owing to the fire they became alive. The ancestors (Jaŋil) thus got +fire at Min-to̱ŋ-ta village.” + +From the A-Pučikwar tribe I only obtained one version of the fire +legend. “When the ancestors lived at Wota-emi, Bilik lived at +To̱l-l’oko-tima across the strait. In those days the ancestors had no +fire. Bilik took some wood of the tree called pe̱rat and broke it and +made fire for himself. Luratut (Kingfisher) came to To̱l-l’oko-tima +while Bilik was sleeping and stole some fire. Bilik awoke and saw +Luratut. He (Bilik) took up a lighted brand and threw it at Luratut. It +hit him in the back of the neck and burnt him. Luratut gave the fire to +the people at Wota-emi. Bilik was very angry about this and went away +to live in the sky.” + +The kingfisher of the story (Alcedo beavani?) has a patch of bright red +feathers on its neck. This is where it was burnt by the brand thrown by +Bilik. + +Mr Portman gives a slightly different version from the same tribe +[114]. “Bilik was sleeping at To̱l-l’oko-tima. Luratut went to bring +fire. He caught hold of the fire, and in doing so burnt Bilik. Bilik +awoke and seized some fire. He hit Luratut with the fire. Then he hit +Tarčal (a fish) with the fire. Čalter (another species of kingfisher) +caught hold of the fire. He gave it to the ancestors at Wota-emi. The +ancestors made fires.” + +From the Akar-Bale tribe I obtained the following legend: “The people +had no fire. Dim-do̱ri (a fish) went and fetched fire from +J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu (the place of departed spirits). He came back and threw +the fire at the people and burnt them, and marked them all. The people +ran into the sea and became fishes. Dim-do̱ri went to shoot them with +his bow and arrows, and he also became a fish.” This story is supposed +to account for the bright colouring of certain species of fish. + +Mr Portman gives a somewhat similar version from the same tribe [115]. +“Dim-do̱ra (a fish), a very long time ago, at Keri-l’oŋ-tower, was +bringing fire from Puluga’s platform (fireplace). He, taking the fire, +burnt everybody with it. Bolub and Tarko̱r and Biličau fell into the sea +and became fishes. They took the fire to Rokwa-l’ar-toŋa village and +made fires there.” + +Another Akar-Bale legend is that fire was given to the first ancestors +(Da Duku and In Bain) by Puluga. Still another is that fire was +obtained by the ancestors from Aga, the skink (Mabuia tytleri). The +mist that is often seen hanging over the jungle in small patches, after +rain or at dawn, is said to be the smoke of Aga’s fire. An island in +the Archipelago is called Aga l’od-baraij, Aga’s village. + +Mr Portman gives an Aka-Bea legend, which, however, relates that the +events took place at Wota-emi in the A-Pučikwar country [116]. + +“Puluga was asleep at To̱l-l’oko-tima. Luratut came, stealing fire. The +fire burnt Puluga. Puluga awoke. Puluga seized some fire. Taking the +fire he burnt Luratut with it. Luratut took the fire. He burnt +Tar-čeker (another kind of kingfisher) with it in Wota-emi village. The +ancestors lit fires. They (the ancestors) were the Tomo-la.” + +Mr Man gives three different versions of legends as to the origin of +fire. According to the first of these, Puluga, after he had made the +first man, Tomo, gave him fire and taught him its use. Puluga obtained +fire by stacking in alternate layers two kinds of wood known as co̱r and +ber, and then bidding the sun to come and sit on or near the pile until +she ignited it, after which she returned to her place in the sky [117]. +The second version is that Puluga came to Tomo with a spirit named Lači +Puŋa Ablola to instruct Tomo, who at his direction, prepared a pyre and +then struck it, on which the fire was kindled and Puŋa Ablola proceeded +to teach him how to cook food [118]. This legend contains an obvious +contradiction. Lači Puŋa Ablola, as is shown by the name itself (Lači = +the late), is the name of some one who is supposed to have lived and +died and so become a spirit. Yet at the same time Tomo is supposed to +have been the first of the Andamanese. There is the possibility, +however, that this inconsistency is due not to the natives themselves, +but to Mr Man’s transcription. It is possible that the legend is that +fire was discovered and was given to the ancestors (the Tomo) by a +person who, being dead, is now Lači Puŋa Ablola, but who was then alive +and one of the ancestors (Tomo) themselves. + +A third legend about fire given by Mr Man is associated by him with +another legend about a flood that once overwhelmed the ancestors. +According to Mr Man’s version the fires were all extinguished by the +flood, so that the few survivors were left without fire. “At this +juncture one of their recently deceased friends appeared in their midst +in the form of a bird named Luratut. Seeing their distress he flew up +to Mo̱ro, the sky, where he discovered Puluga seated beside his fire; he +thereupon seized and attempted to carry away in his beak a burning log, +but the heat, or weight, or both, rendered the task impossible, and the +blazing brand fell on Puluga, who, incensed with pain, hurled it at the +intruder; happily for those concerned, the missile missed its mark and +fell near the very spot where the survivors were deploring their +condition. As Luratut alighted in their midst at the same moment, he +gained the full credit for having removed the chief cause of their +distress [119].” + +We may now consider a group of legends that relate how a great +catastrophe overwhelmed the ancestors. In many of the versions the +legend relates how the ancestors were transformed into animals. Some of +the legends are connected with Biliku or Puluga and others are +connected with the first discovery of fire. Beginning with the North +Andaman, the following is, I believe, an Aka-J̌eru version. “Mimi Čara +once broke some firewood in the evening (while the cicada was singing). +A great storm came and killed many people, who were turned into fishes +and birds. The water rose up till it covered the trees. Mimi Čara and +Mimi Kota took the fire and went up the hill to the cave at Ŋaram. They +carried the fire under a cooking-pot. They kept the fire alight in the +cave, until the storm was over.” + +Another Aka-J̌eru legend was taken down hurriedly and the full details +were not obtained. “The people made a noise in the evening when Mite +(the cicada) was singing. Mite went to see her mother Biliku. Her +mother saw her eyes and face. She looked bad. Her eyes were red (with +weeping). Biliku was very angry. There was a big storm and heavy rain. +Biliku threw her pearl shells (lightning). She went mad. She destroyed +the whole world. Biliku went up to live in the sky. The earth was bare +(literally, empty). One day Biliku dropped a Dipterocarpus seed from +the sky. Out of this all the different kinds of tree grew, and the +earth was again covered with forest.” There was more of the legend, +which I was unable at the time to understand, and which I did not hear +again. My informant added “It was on this occasion that Maia Taolu +saved the fire.” + +An Aka-Čari legend relates how the birds and beasts and fishes arose. +“Maia Dik (Sir Prawn) once got angry and threw fire at the people (the +ancestors). They all turned into birds and fishes. The birds flew into +the jungle. The fishes jumped into the sea. Maia Dik [120] himself +became a large prawn which is still called by the same name.” In +connection with this legend it must be remembered that it was Maia Dik, +according to one legend, who first discovered the use of fire. One +version of the story said that he made fire by striking a piece of +paraŋo wood. Then he threw the burning wood about amongst the ancestors +and they turned into birds and fishes. + +An Aka-J̌eru version is very similar. “The people were all asleep. Maia +Ko̱lo (Sir Sea-eagle) came and threw fire amongst them. They awoke in a +fright and all ran in different directions. Some ran into the sea and +became fishes and turtle; others ran into the jungle and became birds.” + +The Aka-Kede version of the catastrophe that overtook the ancestors is +as follows. “It was at the place called Čilpet. The people collected a +lot of honey. They refused to give any to Ko̱po-tera-wat (a bird, not +identified). The latter got very angry, and in the evening, when the +cicadæ were singing he made a great noise and disturbed their song. +Then there arose a great storm, and it rained very heavily, and the sea +rose over the land. It rose very rapidly till only the top of a big +Dipterocarpus tree showed above the water. The people took refuge in +the branches of this tree. Mima Mite (Lady Dove) managed to rescue some +fire and keep it alight under a cooking pot. The waters at length +subsided. Then the people did not know how to get down from the tree. +Mima Čarami-lebek made a long piece of string and with this she lowered +the people safely to the ground.” The čarami-lebek, which was not +identified, is a species of bird that lives, so the natives say, only +at the top of the very tallest trees of the forest. + +An Aka-Ko̱l version of the same legend is as follows: “At first there +were no birds in the jungle and no fish in the sea. The ancestors were +playing one evening and making a noise while the peti (cicada) was +singing. Then Bilik got angry and sent a great cyclone. All the people +were turned into birds and fishes and turtles and jungle beasts.” + +There is an A-Pučikwar legend that, in the days of the ancestors, there +was a big cyclone. There was a flood at Wota-emi and the water rose up +over the trees. Some of the ancestors climbed up into a big +Dipterocarpus tree and remained there till the waters had subsided. I +was not able to hear any more detailed version of the legend. + +The following legend explaining how the ancestors were turned into +animals was told me by an A-Pučikwar man, but it is probably really of +Akar-Bale origin. + +“It was in the days of the ancestors. Ta Ko̱lwo̱t (Sir Tree-lizard) went +over to a big meeting at Teb-ǰuru (in the Archipelago). There was a lot +of dancing. Ko̱lwo̱t decided to give a big dancing party of his own. He +invited everybody and they all came to his place. Ko̱lwo̱t danced a great +deal. He began to get wild. All the people were afraid, because he was +very strong. They caught hold of him by the arms. Ko̱lwo̱t got very +angry. He threw the people from him. He threw them so violently that +some fell in the sea and became fishes and turtle. Others fell on +different islands and became birds and animals. No one could hold +Ko̱lwo̱t. At last Berep (a species of crab) caught hold of his arm and +would not let go. And thus Berep stopped him. Before this there had +been no birds in the jungles nor any fish in the sea.” + +A more complete version of this story was obtained from the Akar-Bale +tribe. “Da Tigbul (Sir Dugong) took all the people to dance at Kwaičo. +In Bain (Lady Civet-cat) told Da Kwo̱ko̱l (Sir Tree-lizard) that people +were coming from Tar-mugu to dance and that Da Karami [121] would +quarrel with him. Da Kwo̱ko̱l replied ‘Oh! I don’t care. I can fight all +those people easily enough.’ All the people came together for the dance +and Karami quarrelled with Kwo̱ko̱l. The latter got very angry. The +people were afraid. Tigbul (Dugong) caught hold of Kwo̱ko̱l by the arm. +Kwo̱ko̱l threw him from him with such force that Tigbul fell into the sea +and became a dugong. Then Kočurag-boa caught hold of Kwo̱ko̱l and Kwo̱ko̱l +threw him into the jungle [122]. Kwo̱ko̱l threw all the people into the +sea or into the jungle and they became birds and beasts and fishes. No +one could hold him. Da Kwo̱ko̱l went away to Teb-ǰuru. The people told Da +Berag (Sir Crab) what had happened at Kwaičo and how no one could hold +Da Kwo̱ko̱l. Da Berag went after him to Teb-ǰuru. Da Kwo̱ko̱l had covered +himself with ko̱iob (red paint) [123]. Da Berag pretended that he wanted +some paint to put on his upper lip, saying that he was sick. There was +no more red paint in the place, so Da Kwo̱ko̱l said ‘You had better come +and take some off me.’ Da Berag put his nose to Kwo̱ko̱l’s arm as though +to get some paint, and bit deeply into Kwo̱ko̱l’s shoulder. Kwo̱ko̱l could +not get loose, and so he died. The people at Teb-ǰuru attacked Da Berag +and beat him. They could not kill him, because his skin was too hard, +so they threw him into the sea. When Kwo̱ko̱l’s mother, Kegŋa, came and +found her son dead she was very angry. She wept for a long time. Then +she went into the jungle and cut the plant to̱kul which belongs to +Puluga. Puluga was angry because the to̱kul was cut and sent a big storm +which killed Kegŋa and all the other people in that place.” + +Mr Man records another version of this legend. + +“To explain the origin of certain fish, they say that one day before +the Deluge, Maia Ko̱lwo̱t went to visit an encampment of the Tomola +situated in the Archipelago. While engaged in his song the women, +through inattention to his instructions, marred the effect of the +chorus, so, to punish them, he seized his bow, whereupon the whole +party in terror fled in all directions; some escaping into the sea were +changed into dugongs, porpoises, sharks, and various other fish which +till then had not been seen [124].” + +Mr Man gives still another version of the same story. “One day, at the +commencement of the rainy season, a tomola named Berebi came to visit +Ko̱lwo̱t’s mother, Čana Erep, with the express intention of seeing her +son, of whom he was extremely jealous. When he appeared Berebi +treacherously bit him in the arm, but his teeth became fixed in the +flesh and he was therefore unable to detach himself from his victim, +whose friends promptly avenged his murder, and disposed of the corpses +by throwing them into the sea. (Ko̱lwo̱t, after death, was transformed +into a species of tree-lizard, which is still named after him, and +Berebi became a fish called Koŋo, which is armed with a row of +poisonous barbs in its back.) The bereaved mother, in her rage, grief +and despair, committed various acts, against which Tomo had been warned +by Puluga, and while so doing incited others to follow her example by +the following words:— + + + e, e, e, dia ra-gumul l’ab-dala, + e, e, e, ŋul kaǰa piǰ pugatken, + e, e, e, ŋul čoaken toaiken, + e, e, e, ŋul boarato aga-kolaken, + e, e, e, ŋul gono boaŋken, + e, e, e, ŋul toŋ čoara boaŋken, + e, e, e, ŋig arlot pulaiǰoken. + + +The translation of which is:— + + + e, e, e (sobbing)— My grown-up handsome son, + ,, ,, ,, ,, Burn the wax, + ,, ,, ,, ,, Grind the seed of the čakan (Entada), + ,, ,, ,, ,, Destroy the barata (Caryota), + ,, ,, ,, ,, Dig up the gono (yam), + ,, ,, ,, ,, Dig up the čati (yam), + ,, ,, ,, ,, Destroy everything. + + +Thereupon Puluga was exceeding wroth, and sent the flood, that which +destroyed all living things with the exception of two men and two +women. + +“This tradition is preserved in the following lines:— + + + Keledoat ibaji lar čora, + Ra-gumul ab-gorga en ig-boadi + Ra-gumul le liga koarna + Ra-gumul ab-gorka + Toala arbo eb dagan čoarpo. + + +The meaning of which is:— + + + Bring the boat to the beach + I will see your fine grown-up son, + The grown-up son who threw the youths (into the sea) + The fine grown-up son, + My adze is rusty, I will stain my lips with his blood. + + +In this, as in all their songs and chants, a good deal is left to the +imagination, but from their explanations which have been given by the +aborigines, the following appear to afford some light on the +subject:—Berebi, being jealous of the renown Ko̱lwo̱t had won for himself +by his numerous accomplishments and great strength, took advantage of +meeting him and his mother one day on the water to ask them to let him +enter their boat. On their complying with his request, he provided +himself with a rusty adze and hone, remarking on the rusty condition of +the former; then taking Ko̱lwo̱t by the arm he sniffed it from the wrist +to the shoulder as if admiring the development of the muscles; while +doing so he muttered the threat of staining his lips with blood, which +he shortly after fulfilled in the manner already described [125].” + +As the songs given in this legend are in the Akar-Bale language +(Southern dialect), it is probable that the legend is an Akar-Bale one. +It is really another version of the legend already given. + +Another Akar-Bale story tells how the first ancestors Duku, the monitor +lizard, and Bain the civet-cat, managed to keep the fire alight when a +flood overwhelmed them. “One day in the time of the ancestors there +came a great storm, and the water rose over the land. The rain put out +the fires. Da Duku (Sir Monitor Lizard) took a smouldering log and +tried to climb up a tree with it. He could not climb with the fire in +his hand. His wife In Bain (Lady Civet-cat) took the fire from him and +took it up to the top of a hill and there kept it alight till the rain +stopped and the water went away. The hill is called Bain l’it-čapa +(Bain’s fire) to the present day.” The hill is a rather steep-sided +hill of no great height in Havelock Island. + +Mr Portman [126] connects the story of the flood with the story of the +dispersion of the ancestors over the islands. Referring to the names of +the tribes he says, “The Andamanese state that these names were given +to the different tribes by Maia Tomo-la when they were dispersed after +a cataclysm. They have a tradition that this group of tribes was once +all one tribe, and that the Andaman Islands were much larger than at +present. Some great cataclysm occurred during which part of the islands +subsided and many aborigines were drowned, the remainder being +separated into different territories as at present by the orders of +Maia Tomo-la, apparently the chief at that time of the collected tribe. +(The above is of course a matter-of-fact version of the fanciful and +impossible legends of the Andamanese.)” + +The dispersion legend in the South Andaman is connected with the name +of the A-Pučikwar tribe. The name (of which the Aka-Bea equivalent is +Aka-Boǰig-yab) means “those who talk the original language,” it being +believed that the A-Pučikwar language was the one originally spoken by +the ancestors. + +The only version of the dispersion legend that I heard was from the +Aka-Kede tribe. It was to the effect that Bilika once seized all the +ancestors and put them in a netted bag (such as the natives use for +carrying small objects of various kinds). She (or he) took them out a +few at a time and put them in different parts of the country, where +their descendants have been ever since. + +Mr Man speaks of a legend of how the tribes came to be dispersed over +the islands. From his account it would seem that there were two +different dispersions, one before the Deluge, and a second after it. Mr +Man’s account is as follows. “Tomo lived to a great age, but even +before his death his offspring became so numerous that their home could +no longer accommodate them. At Puluga’s bidding they were furnished +with all necessary weapons, implements, and fire, and then scattered in +pairs all over the country. When this exodus occurred Puluga provided +each party with a distinct dialect. It would almost seem that, without +straining the legend to suit facts, we might discern in this a faint +echo of the Biblical account of the confusion of tongues and dispersion +at Babel [127].” + +“Consequent on the disappearance of Tomo and his wife, the duties of +headship over the community at Wota-emi devolved on one of their +grandchildren, named Ko̱lwo̱t, who was distinguished by being the first +to spear and catch turtles. The tomola remained on the islands long +after Tomo’s transformation, but after Ko̱lwo̱t’s death, according to one +legend, they grew disobedient, and as Puluga ceased to visit them, +became more and more remiss in their observance of the commands given +at the creation. At last Puluga’s anger burst forth, and, without any +warning, he sent a great flood that covered the whole land, and +destroyed all living. Four persons (two men, Lo̱ra-lola and Po̱i-lola, +and two women, Ka-lola and Rima-lola), who happened to be in a canoe +when the catastrophe occurred, were able to effect an escape. When the +waters subsided, they found themselves near Wota-emi, where they landed +and discovered that every living thing on earth had perished; but +Puluga re-created the animals, birds, etc. [128].” + +“When, for the second time in their history, their numbers had +increased to so great an extent that it became impossible for them to +remain together in one spot, an exodus, similar to the first, took +place; each party being furnished with fire and every other essential, +started in a different direction, and on settling down adopted a new +and distinct dialect. They each received a tribal name, and from them +have sprung the various tribes still existing on the islands [129].” + +In the Southern tribes there is a legend to account for the origin of +night. The following version was obtained from the A-Pučikwar tribe. +“In the early days of the world, in the time of the ancestors, there +was no night; it was always day. Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard) went +into the jungle to dig up yams. He found some yams. He also found some +resin (teki), and a cicada (ro̱to). He brought them to the camp of the +ancestors at Wota-emi. He sat down and the people came round him. Ta +Pe̱tie took the cicada and rubbed it between his hands and crushed it. +As he did this the cicada uttered its cry. Then the day went away and +it was dark. It remained dark for several days. The ancestors came +together and tried to get back the day. They made torches of resin, and +danced and sang songs. First Kotare (a bird) sang a song, but he could +not get back the daylight. Then Bumu (a beetle?) sang, but the day +would not come. Then Pecero̱l (the bulbul, Otocompsia emeria) sang, and +after him Ko̱io (a bird), but both in vain. Then Ko̱ŋoro (a species of +ant) sang a song and morning came. After that, day and night followed +one another alternately.” + +A similar legend was obtained from the Akar-Bale tribe. “Da Teŋat [130] +lived at Golugma Bud. He went fishing one day and got only one small +fish of the kind called čelau (Glyphidodon sordidus?). He turned to go +home, and as he went he shot his arrows before him into the jungle +[131]. Then he went after his arrows to find them again. As he went he +spoke to the fruits of the jungle, asking them their names. In those +days the ancestors did not know the names of the fruits and trees. +First he asked the puiam, and then the guluba, and then the čakli, but +none of them replied to him. Then he found his first arrow. It was +stuck fast in a big yam (gono). He took the arrow and said to the yam +‘What is your name?’ At first the yam did not answer. Teŋat turned to +go away. He had gone a few steps when the yam called him back, saying +‘My name is gono.’ Teŋat replied ‘Oh! I did not know. Why did not you +say so before?’ He dug up the yam, which was a very big one. He went +off to look for his second arrow. As he went he spoke to the stones of +the jungle, asking their names, but none of them replied. Then he found +his second arrow fixed in a large lump of resin (tug) [132]. He took +the arrow, and as he was going away the resin called him back, saying +‘Here! my name is tug; you can take me along with you.’ So Teŋat took +the resin. Then Teŋat found a cicada (rita), and he took that also. +When Teŋat got to the hut (bud), everyone came to look at the things he +had brought. He showed them the yam. He told them its name and showed +them how to cook it. This was the first time that the ancestors ate +gono. Then Teŋat took in his hand the cicada and squashed it between +his palms. As he killed it the cicada uttered its cry and the whole +world became dark. When the people saw that it was dark they tried to +bring back the daylight. Teŋat took some of the resin and made torches. +He taught the people how to dance and sing. When Da Ko̱ŋoro (Sir Ant) +sang a song the day came back. After that the day and night came +alternately.” + +Mr Man records a different version of this story. + +“The manner in which the world was illuminated at the beginning is not +clearly to be ascertained from their legends, for one story states that +the sun and moon were subsequently created at Tomo’s request, as he +found that, under the then existing circumstances, it was impossible to +catch fish by night or to hunt by day; while, in direct disagreement +with this, another story tells us that night was a punishment brought +upon mankind by certain individuals who angered Puluga by killing a +caterpillar. The tale informs us that the sun, one day, burned so +fiercely as to cause great distress. Two women named Čana Limi and Čana +J̌araŋud, became exceedingly irritable, and while in this unhappy frame +of mind they discovered a caterpillar (gurug) and a certain plant +called utura. By way of venting their spleen, one crushed the helpless +grub, and the other destroyed the plant. These wanton acts so +displeased Puluga that he determined to punish them, and to teach them +to appreciate the privilege of daylight, which they had hitherto +uninterruptedly enjoyed. He accordingly visited the earth with a +long-continued darkness, which caused every one much inconvenience and +distress. At last their chief, Maia Ko̱lwo̱t, to whom reference has +already been made, hit upon a happy expedient of inducing Puluga to +restore the former state of things by trying to assure him that they +were quite unconcerned, and could enjoy themselves in spite of light +being withheld from them. To accomplish this, he invented the custom of +dancing and singing, the result of which was that Puluga, finding that +they had frustrated his intention, granted, as a first concession +alternate periods of day and night, and subsequently, moved by the +difficulties often occasioned by the latter, created the moon to +mitigate their troubles. It is in this way that they account for the +same word being used to denote a caterpillar and night [133].” + +From the Akar-Bale tribe I obtained a legend about the origin of death. +No other version of the same legend was obtained. + +“At J̌o̱ŋo-l’ar-bo̱ŋ lived In Kalwadi with her sons Yaramurud and Toau +[134]. Yaramurud went to hunt pig for his mother, but was unsuccessful. +When he came home his mother brought him some pork that was in the hut. +As he took his knife from the back of his neck to cut the meat with it, +he cut himself [135]. Then his mother knew that he was dead. She said +to him ‘You are dead now. You had better go away. We do not want you +here any more.’ She took him up and carried him into the jungle and +buried him, returning home. Very soon Yaramurud returned. His mother +exclaimed ‘Oh! I thought you had gone.’ He replied ‘Mother, I did not +die. Why did you bury me?’ But she knew he was dead, so she took him +and buried him again. He came back again. This happened three times. +Then Kalwadi took him into the jungle to a big dumla tree (Pisonia +excelsa), in which there was a big hole. She kicked the tree with her +foot and said ‘You go in there.’ Yaramurud went inside. ‘Well! Have you +gone?’ his mother asked. He answered ‘Yes!’ ‘Tell me how the spirits +(čauga) talk’ she asked him, and he replied ‘To̱ kit [136].’ Then his +mother knew that he was with the spirits, and said ‘Oh! my child, you +are finished now. You will never come back again.’ After a few days +Yaramurud came back (as a spirit) to see his brother Toau. Toau was +busy building a hut. When Yaramurud saw him he killed him. Before this +there had been no death. But In Kalwadi told the people, saying ‘You +see what has happened; well, we shall all of us die like this, like +these two have done’.” + +There is a widespread legend to account for the origin of creeks and +islands. The following is an A-Pučikwar version. + +“At first there was only one big island with the sea all round it. +There were no small islands and no creeks. Ko̱ŋoro (a species of ant) +made a turtle net and went fishing. He caught a very big fish of the +kind called ko̱ro-ŋiti-čau in his net, and dived down and attached a +rope to its tail. The fish got very angry and made furious plunges to +get away, striking the land in its struggles, and each time knocking +off a bit of the land or making a long split. This is the origin of the +smaller islands and the creeks.” + +Mr Man records the same legend, but says it was Tomo who caught the +fish [137]. In an Akar-Bale version it was Da Pečero̱l who caught the +fish (ko̱roŋadi). Pečero̱l is the bulbul (Otocompsia emeria). I have the +name ko̱roŋadi in my notes as being Sphyraena acutipinnis, but the +identification is a doubtful one. In the Aka-Kede tribe there is a +version in which it is stated that one of the ancestors captured a fish +called talepo. This does not seem to be the same species of fish as +that called ko̱ro-ŋiti-čau or ko̱roŋadi in the South. In the North +Andaman the legend is that Pe̱rǰido, the son of Biliku, shot a large eel +(bol) with an arrow, and in its endeavours to get free from the arrow +the eel wriggled about till it made all the creeks. + +In the Southern tribes there is a legend that relates how the pig first +got its senses. A version from the A-Pučikwar tribe is as follows. + +“Ta Mita (Sir Dove) went into the jungle and found a lot of pigs. They +did not run away when he came because they had no eyes to see him, no +ears to hear, and no nostrils with which to smell. They had no mouths. +Mita made mouths for them and gave them tusks which he made of tobur +wood. He made eyes and ears and nostrils in their heads and taught them +how to grunt and how to sneeze [138].” + +Another version from the same tribe is as follows. + +“At first the pigs had neither nose nor ears nor eyes. They used to +stand about at Wota-emi when the ancestors lived there. The people ate +a great many of them. They were such a nuisance that Mita (Dove), the +wife of Tomo, thought of a plan to get them out of the way. She bored +holes in their heads, two for eyes, two for ears, and two for nostrils. +The pigs ran off into the forest where they have been ever since.” + +I did not obtain any version of this legend from the Northern tribes. +The Aka-Kede have a different legend about the pigs. + +“At first there were no pigs. One of the ancestors, Mimi Čau (Lady +Civet-cat), invented a new game, and made the ancestors run on all +fours and grunt. Those playing were turned into pigs, and went to live +in the jungle. Mimi Čau became a civet-cat (čau).” + +In the North Andaman there is a legend connected with the pig which +explains the origin of the dugong. + +“Pe̱rǰido was the first man to catch a pig. He went into the forest and +found a pig. Pe̱rǰido was hungry. He caught the pig and took it home. +The pig had no eyes nor ears nor mouth. Pe̱rǰido did not disembowel the +pig, nor did he sever the joints of its legs [139]. He made a fire and +put the pig on it. The pig swelled up in the heat of the fire and +burst. This made holes in the pig’s head, two for ears, two for eyes, +two for nostrils. The pig perceived that it was being burnt. It jumped +up from the fire and ran away. Pe̱rǰido threw a ko̱bo (Licuala) leaf at +it. The pig ran into the sea and became a dugong. The leaf became its +flipper.” + +In the Aka-Čari tribe there is a legend describing the origin of +turtles. + +“At first there was only one big turtle. He came to the camp of the +Aka-Čari people and called them, saying ‘Bring your canoes and catch +me.’ They got into their canoes and followed the turtle. They could not +catch him. The turtle swam away and the canoes followed. When the +canoes were far from land the big turtle came and upset the canoes. The +men were all turned into turtles of the same kind and size as those +that are seen now. The canoes (and the big turtle?) were turned into a +reef.” + +In the South Andaman it is supposed that the custom of scarifying the +skin was invented by the first ancestor of the Andamanese, the monitor +lizard. An Akar-Bale version of the story is as follows. + +“Duku (Monitor Lizard) lived with his wife Bain (Civet-cat). Duku said +‘I am going to scarify myself.’ His wife tried to dissuade him. He +would not listen to her. He went into the jungle and found a piece of +to̱lma (quartz) and scarified himself all over. His wife was very angry +and asked him why he had done it. Duku replied ‘I look very well like +this, and you will see, all the other people will do the same’.” + +Mr Man gives a version of the same legend. + +“Maia Duku, who appears to be identical with Tomo, is said to have been +the first to tattoo himself. One day, while out on a fishing +expedition, he shot an arrow; missing its object it struck a hard +substance which proved to be a piece of iron, the first ever found. +With it Duku made an arrow-head and tattooed himself, after which he +sang the ditty:— + + + To̱ŋ ma lir pireŋa? to̱ŋ yitiken! to̱ŋ yitiken! + to̱ŋ ma lir pireŋa? to̱ŋ yitiken! + + +the interpretation of which is + + + ‘What can now strike me? + I am tattooed, I am tattooed!’ etc. (Da capo) [140].” + + +It would seem that Mr Man, or else his informant, was not very clear +about the details of the legend. In the South Andaman scarification is +never performed with an arrow-head, nor with any instrument of iron, +but with a flake of quartz or glass. It is only in the North and Middle +Andaman that an arrow-head is used for such a purpose, and even then it +is only so used to make the big scars on the back and chest, the +ordinary scarification being performed with a flake of stone or glass. +The legend is certainly a Southern one, and the song given is in the +Aka-Bea language. The accuracy of the transcription of the legend +therefore seems very doubtful. + +Yams and honey, being two of the most important foods of the Andaman +Islanders, are the subject of several legends. A common belief about +yams is that they were made, or their qualities were first discovered, +by Biliku or Puluga. We have already seen that there is a special +connection between Biliku (or Puluga) and the yams and other edible +roots. There are also other legends, however, on the same subject. An +account of the first discovery of the yam called gono is contained in +the Akar-Bale legend of the origin of night, already given [141]. + +In the North Andaman the following tale is told about the discovery of +one kind of yam. + +“Maia Dik (Sir Prawn) discovered ko̱nmo (Dioscorea sp.). He was very +hungry and went to look for something to eat. He found a very large +ko̱nmo. There was only one ko̱nmo. He cooked it in the fire and ate as +much as he could. He dashed the remainder on a rock, and the fragments +scattered everywhere and grew into fresh plants. After this there were +plenty of ko̱nmo everywhere.” + +A legend is also told in the North Andaman about the first discovery of +another kind of yam. + +“Maia Pulimu (Sir Fly) and Maia Mo̱ičo (Sir Rail) went to hunt pig. They +killed one pig. There was nothing to tie up the pig (to carry it home). +Maia Pulimu went to look for a creeper (with which to tie up the pig). +He caught hold of a creeper and pulled it and found it was a mino +(Dioscorea sp.). Maia Pulimu was a long time away. Maia Mo̱ičo went and +found some creeper for himself and tied up the pig and carried it home. +When Maia Pulimu came back he found that Maia Mo̱ičo had gone and taken +the pig. He followed him and went home. He showed the ancestors how to +cook and eat mino.” + +I believe that there is a fuller version of this legend, which I was +unable, however, to obtain. Another of my informants told me the story +as follows. + +“Mimi Mo̱ičo (Lady Rail) had a son Pulimu (Fly). Pulimu found a mino in +the forest and brought it to his mother. They roasted it in the fire.” + +Mr Man gives a story from the South Andaman. + +“Another of their antediluvian ancestors was famous for propagating +yams. This was Maia Bumroag, who in shooting an arrow, struck the +creeper belonging to the favourite variety called gono; his curiosity +being excited he dug up the root, and tasted it: the result being +satisfactory, he informed his friends of his discovery, and they all +feasted upon it; when they had had sufficient, he scattered the remains +in different directions; this apparent waste so angered his mother +that, on pretence of shaving him, she split his head open with a flint. +After his death it was found that the act for which he had suffered had +tended to the spread of the plant which is now plentiful [142].” + +In the North Andaman it is supposed that honey was discovered by +Pe̱rǰido the son of Biliku. + +“Pe̱rǰido was the first to eat honey. One day he went to shoot fish. He +saw a nyuri (Plotosus sp.). The nyuri disappeared amongst the roots of +the mangrove trees. Pe̱rǰido was looking for the fish. There was a +honeycomb in a mangrove tree. Pe̱rǰido saw its reflection in the water. +He took some fire and tried to get the honey out of the water [143]. +The water put out the fire. He could not get the honey. He went home +and told his mother what he had been doing. She went with him and saw +the honey. ‘What a fool you are’ she said, ‘don’t you see that it is in +the trees.’ Pe̱rǰido took some fire and smoked out the bees and took the +honey. After that Pe̱rǰido used to go and collect honey. He ate it all +himself. He did not tell the others (the ancestors) about it. Maia +Po̱rubi (Sir Frog) found out that Pe̱rǰido was getting honey and eating +it. He went in to the forest to look for some. He found five or six +combs. He ate them all and brought none home to his children. Be̱re̱t (a +smaller species of frog) was the child of Po̱rubi. One day Be̱re̱t said to +his father ‘Bring us some honey.’ The children went with their father +and showed him the combs in the trees. Po̱rubi went up the tree, and +each time he ate the honey in the tree and did not bring any of it down +for his children. Then Be̱re̱t saw another honeycomb in a very tall tree. +He pointed it out to his father. Po̱rubi went up to get it. Be̱re̱t cut +the creeper up which his father had climbed [144]. Po̱rubi wrapped up +the honeycomb to bring it down. Be̱re̱t said ‘Father, this creeper is +bad. How will you come down?’ Po̱rubi replied ‘How can it be bad, when I +have just climbed up it?’ Be̱re̱t made some sharp stakes of čo̱m (Areca) +wood, and put them round the tree. Po̱rubi jumped (or fell) from the +tree on to the stakes and was killed. Be̱re̱t took the honey and ran away +home.” + +In the Aka-Čari tribe there is another legend connected with the frog +(po̱rubi) which may conveniently be given here. + +“The ancestors were at enmity with Maia Po̱rubi. They went to kill him. +They shot him with their arrows, but they could not kill him. Maia +Po̱rubi caught hold of them all in his arms, and jumped into the sea. He +jumped from the hill called Čauanara. He found a big round stone +(boulder) and put the people under it and left them there. All the +people turned into stone, and may be seen there now. The next night +some more of the people went to hunt turtle near Maia Po̱rubi’s place. +They caught a turtle and shouted [145]. Maia Po̱rubi heard them +shouting. ‘They are coming again to kill me,’ he said. While they were +catching turtle he threw a round stone at them. The stone sank the +canoe. The canoe and the people in it were turned to stone.” + +A story in which there is a connection between honey and a toad is +given by Mr Man. + +“Another curious fable is told to account for a drought from which +their early ancestors suffered: it relates that once upon a time, in +the dry season, a woodpecker discovered a black honeycomb in the hollow +of a tree; while regaling himself on this dainty he observed a toad +eyeing him wistfully from below, so he invited him to join in the +feast; the toad gladly accepted, whereupon the woodpecker lowered a +creeper, giving instructions to his guest to fasten his bucket (dakar) +thereto, and then to seat himself in it, so that he might be drawn up. +The toad complied with the directions and the woodpecker proceeded to +haul him up; but just when he had brought him near the comb he +mischievously let go the creeper, and his confiding and expectant guest +experienced an unpleasant fall. The trick so exasperated him that he at +once repaired to the streams far and near in the island and drained +them, the result of which was that great distress was occasioned to all +the birds, as well as to the rest of the animate creation. The success +of his revenge so delighted the toad that, to show his satisfaction, +and to add to the annoyance of his enemies, he thoughtlessly began to +dance, whereupon all the water flowed from him, and the drought soon +terminated [146].” + +One of the incidents of the North Andaman story of the frog (Po̱rubi) +and his son (Be̱re̱t) appears in a different story from the South and +Middle Andaman. The following is an Aka-Ko̱l version of this legend. + +“Ta Mita (Sir Dove) and Ta Ko̱io (a species of small bird) went hunting +together and got a great number of pigs. Ta Ko̱io told Ta Mita to get +some canes to tie up all the pigs. As soon as Ta Mita had gone to look +for the cane, Ta Ko̱io went up a big Dipterocarpus tree, taking half the +pigs with him. He came down and took the rest of the pigs. He stayed up +in the tree with the pigs. When Ta Mita came back he found that the +pigs had disappeared. He was very angry and went home. As there was +nothing to eat, Mita and his two children, Čada and Čoda (two species +of fish) went fishing. Ko̱io was still up the tree. He was cooking the +pigs up there. Mita and his children passed under the tree and some +burning resin [147] fell on them. In this way they discovered that Ko̱io +was in the tree. Mita planned to punish Ko̱io. He cut a great number of +sharp stakes of Areca wood and fixed them all round the tree, pointing +upwards. Ko̱io was asleep. Mita made the tree sink into the ground. As +soon as it was low enough he took some water and threw it into the ear +of the sleeping Ko̱io, who awoke in a fright and jumped from the tree. +He was impaled on the stakes of wood and so died.” + +Another version of the same tale was obtained from the Akar-Bale tribe. + +“Da Bumu (a species of bird) went hunting pig with Da Berakwe (another +species of bird), and they got a large number of pigs. Then Berakwe +said to Bumu ‘We want some cane to tie up all these pigs. You go and +get it.’ When Bumu had gone Berakwe climbed up into a big Dipterocarpus +tree, taking all the pigs with him, except one very small one which he +left behind. When Bumu came back with the cane he found only one small +pig, and he was very angry. He went home with the pig. Bumu’s wife +Yakoŋ (a species of fish) said ‘I am very hungry. We will go and get +some fish by night.’ At night Yakoŋ went out to get some fish and she +passed under the tree where Berakwe was cooking his pigs. Some burning +resin fell on her and burnt her. She looked up and saw Berakwe and said +‘Oh! there you are; you stole all my husband’s pigs.’ She went home and +told Bumu. In the morning Bumu got up very early and cut a number of +pointed stakes of Areca (čam) wood, and fixed them all round the tree +where Berakwe was, with the sharp points upwards. Then Bumu made the +tree sink gradually into the ground. Berakwe fell from the tree on to +the stakes and so was killed. Bumu and his wife got the pigs.” + +Mr Man records a version of the same story. + +“The legend regarding the origin of the evil spirits known as Čo̱l is as +follows:—Their ancestor, Maia Čo̱l, one day stole a pig which had been +captured by Maia Ko̱lwo̱t, and climbed up into a gurjon-tree with his +prize. Now Maia Ko̱lwo̱t was remarkable for his great strength, and being +enraged, determined to revenge himself; he thereupon planted a number +of spikes all round the tree in which the thief had taken refuge, and +then proceeded to force it into the ground. On finding that if he +remained where he was, he must inevitably be buried alive, Maia Čo̱l +sprang off the tree, and thereby met a more terrible fate, for he was +impaled on the spikes, and perished miserably. His disembodied spirit +did not pass to Čaitan (Hades), but took up its abode on the invisible +bridge, where, by Puluga’s orders, numbers of his descendants were sent +to join him, in the form of black birds with long tails [148].” + +In reference to this version it may be noted that the Čo̱l are not +“spirits” if that word is used to translate the native term čauga or +lau. Čo̱l is the name of a species of bird, which I believe is the +racket-tailed drongo. These birds, though according to Mr Man they live +on the rainbow, are to be seen every day in the jungle, and may be +heard calling čo̱l! čo̱l! čo̱l! + +Throughout the Great Andaman there is a belief in a huge animal that +haunts the jungles, or that haunted them in the days of the ancestors. +In the North Andaman this beast is called J̌irmu. In the days of the +ancestors it is supposed to have lived at Ulibi-taŋ, where it attacked +and killed any men and women who came in its way. No detailed legend +about the J̌irmu was obtained. + +In the Akar-Bale language Kočurag-boa is the name of the same or a +similar monster. In the A-Pučikwar language it is called Uču. This is +the name applied to two rocks of limestone which are situated about two +or three miles south of Wota-emi, one being in a mangrove swamp, and +the other some little way out in the sea. The following legend is told +about these rocks. + +“In the early days of the Andamanese, Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard), +the first ancestor, went into the jungle and found a čo̱ti tree, up +which he climbed to eat the fruit. The other people (who lived with him +at Wota-emi) came and found him, and Ta Pe̱tie threw down some of the +fruit to them, which they ate. The people began to bully Pe̱tie to make +him throw down more of the fruit. Pe̱tie got angry and said ‘If you +bully me like that I will call the Uču, and they will kill you all.’ +The people only laughed at him. Pe̱tie called the Uču, calling ‘Dire! +dire!’ The Uču came, one male and one female. They caught all the +people and ate them. Only Pe̱tie they did not eat because he was up in +the high tree. The Uču went off to cross the strait to To̱l-l’oko-tima. +They had eaten so much that they were very heavy and stuck in the sand +and mud at the edge of the mangrove swamp. When Pe̱tie came down from +the tree he found all the people gone. He said ‘Hallo! the Uču must +have eaten them all.’ He went to look. He found the Uču stuck fast at +the edge of the mangrove swamp, so that they could not move. He cut +open their bellies and all the people came out, for the Uču had +swallowed them whole. The Uču are there to this day.” + +When elephants were first introduced into the Andamans for the use of +the Forest Department, they were named Uču by the natives, and have +ever since retained that name. Similarly the natives of the Northern +tribes call them J̌irmu. + +In the Akar-Bale tribe there is a legend to account for the origin of a +rock standing in the sea at a place called Kwaičo-bur. + +“Ra-gumul Kwo̱ko̱l went fishing with his bow and arrows in the sea. His +bow and arrows and he himself were turned into stone, and may be seen +there to the present day.” + +Kwo̱ko̱l is the common tree-lizard. Ra-gumul is the term applied to a +youth or girl who has just passed through the pig-eating ceremony +described in Chap. II. A youth is not permitted to handle a bow for +some days after the ceremony in question. A version of the same legend +is recorded by Mr Man. + +“The story regarding certain Tomola who failed to observe the rules for +neophytes, states that, on the day after they broke their fast of +reg-ǰiri (kidney-fat of pig), they left the encampment without giving +notice of their intention to their friends, and the result was that, +when they were missed and searched for, it was found that they had gone +to the shore to fish, and had there met a sad fate; the body of one was +discovered adhering to a large boulder, and turned into stone, while +the other, likewise in a state of petrifaction, was standing erect +beside it [149].” + +A reef on the east side of Ritchie’s Archipelago is said to have +originated as follows. + +“The people of Kwaičo went to J̌ila to hunt turtle, taking two canoes. +While they were away their wives made up a big fire in the evening at +Kwaičo. The hunters and their canoes were turned to stone, and formed +the reefs that are now there.” + +I believe that the explanation of this story is the belief that the +moon is angry when a bright fire is visible at the time when he rises +in the evening shortly after sunset [150]. + +There seems to be a legend relating to a large snake called o̱r-čubi in +the North Andaman, but I was not able to obtain a detailed version. The +following was told me in Aka-J̌eru. + +“At Dalamio, in the time of the ancestors, there used to be a big snake +of the kind called o̱r-čubi. He used to catch men and women when they +were gathering honey, and kill them and eat them.” + +An Akar-Bale version is a little fuller. + +“There was a man named Biča who went to look for honey in the jungle. +He saw a big snake (wara-ǰobo) and from its neck was hanging a +honeycomb. The snake was as big as a tree. ‘Why don’t you make your +honey in the trees?’ Biča said to the bees. He went home and called +several of the men. They took their bows and arrows. They found the +snake, and shot it with a great many arrows. They could not kill the +snake, which ran away and was never seen again.” + +An Akar-Bale story relates how the first murder came to pass. + +“Da Ko (Sir Crow) was the first of the Andamanese. He lived at +Kared-čar-buaro with his wife In Mud (Lady Dove). He had a friend, +Badgi-beria (Hawk). Badgi-beria had no wife and was jealous of Da Ko +and wanted to get his wife. When Da Ko knew this he was very angry. He +went into the jungle and hid himself. By and by he saw Badgi-beria and +Mud coming along the path together. He took his bow and arrows and +killed them.” + +Another Akar-Bale story about the dove is as follows. + +“Mud and Kulal were cooking pig and got very hot. They went to bathe +and were turned into birds.” + +Mud is the bronze-winged dove, Chalcophaps indica, and kulal is the +teal, Nettium albigulare. + +In the North Andaman there are tales about the sea-eagle (ko̱lo). One is +to the effect that at first he used ko̱bo (Licuala) leaves to fly with. +This was before he had wings of his own. Another story is as follows. + +“Maia Ko̱lo (Sir Sea-eagle) lived at Čona in Tau-’ra-miku. He had a hut +in the top of a to̱ro̱ktato tree. He was unmarried. When the men went +fishing he used to steal their wives. He would only take good-looking +girls. He would call out to a girl to come and catch hold of his foot, +saying ‘I have a fish for you.’ If an old or ugly woman came, he would +say ‘No! not you; go away.’ When a young woman came and caught hold of +his foot he flew away with her to his hut in the tree.” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE INTERPRETATION OF ANDAMANESE CUSTOMS AND BELIEFS: CEREMONIAL + + +The present chapter is devoted to an attempt to interpret some of the +beliefs and customs of the Andaman Islanders, as they have been +described in the earlier part of this work. By the interpretation of a +custom is meant the discovery, not of its origin, but of its meaning. +The system of beliefs and customs that exists to-day in the Andamans is +the result of a long process of evolution. To seek the origin of these +customs, as the word origin is here used, is to seek to know the +details of the historical process by which they have come into +existence. In the absence of all historical records, the most that we +could do would be to attempt to make a hypothetical reconstruction of +the past, which, in the present state of ethnological science, would be +of very doubtful utility [151]. + +It is otherwise with the meaning of these customs. Every custom and +belief of a primitive society plays some determinate part in the social +life of the community, just as every organ of a living body plays some +part in the general life of the organism. The mass of institutions, +customs and beliefs forms a single whole or system that determines the +life of the society, and the life of a society is not less real, or +less subject to natural laws, than the life of an organism. To continue +the analogy, the study of the meaning of savage customs is a sort of +social physiology, and is to be distinguished from the study of +origins, or changes of custom in just the same way that animal +physiology is distinguished from the biology that deals with the origin +of species, the causes of variation, and the general laws of evolution. + +The problems that this chapter presents are therefore not historical +but psychological or sociological. We have to explain why it is that +the Andamanese think and act in certain ways. The explanation of each +single custom is provided by showing what is its relation to the other +customs of the Andamanese and to their general system of ideas and +sentiments. + +Thus the subject of the present chapter is not in any way affected by +questions of the historical origin of the customs with which it deals, +but is concerned only with those customs as they exist at the present +day. Nor are we concerned with the comparison of the customs of the +Andamanese with those of other savage races. Such comparisons are not +only valueless for our purpose, but might be misleading. To draw any +valid conclusion from the comparison of two apparently similar customs +in two different societies, we must be sure that they are really +similar, and to do this we need to know the true meaning of each of +them considered by itself. The true comparative method consists of the +comparison, not of one isolated custom of one society with a similar +custom of another, but of the whole system of institutions, customs and +beliefs of one society with that of another. In a word, what we need to +compare is not institutions but social systems or types. + +It is often urged that in ethnology description and interpretation +should be most carefully separated. So far as this means that the facts +observed by the ethnologist should be recorded free from all bias of +interpretation, the necessity cannot be too often or too strongly +urged. If, however, it is meant to imply that efforts at interpretation +are to be excluded from works of descriptive ethnology, there is much +to be said against such an opinion. In trying to interpret the +institutions of a primitive society the field ethnologist has a great +advantage over those who know the facts only at second hand. However +exact and detailed the description of a primitive people may be, there +remains much that cannot be put into such a description. Living, as he +must, in daily contact with the people he is studying, the field +ethnologist comes gradually to “understand” them, if we may use the +term. He acquires a series of multitudinous impressions, each slight +and often vague, that guide him in his dealings with them. The better +the observer the more accurate will be his general impression of the +mental peculiarities of the race. This general impression it is +impossible to analyse, and so to record and convey to others. Yet it +may be of the greatest service when it comes to interpreting the +beliefs and practices of a primitive society. If it does not give any +positive aid towards a correct interpretation, it at least prevents +errors into which it is only too easy for those to fall who have not +the same immediate knowledge of the people and their ways. Indeed it +may be urged, with some reason, that attempts to interpret the beliefs +of savages without any first-hand knowledge of the people whose beliefs +are in question, are at the best unsatisfactory and open to many +possibilities of error. + +The present position of ethnological studies may well be regarded as +anomalous. Many of the observers engaged in recording the customs of +primitive people are very imperfectly acquainted with modern theories +of sociology. One result of this is that they often neglect to record +anything concerning matters that are of fundamental importance for the +theorist [152]. On the other hand those engaged in elaborating +hypotheses do not, as a rule, observe for themselves the facts to be +explained, but have to rely on what are in many cases imperfect +documents, being thus unwittingly led into errors that might have been +avoided. In this science, as in others, if progress is to be made, the +elaboration of hypotheses and the observation and classification of +facts must be carried on as interdependent parts of one process, and no +advantage, but rather great disadvantage, results from the false +division of labour whereby theorists and observers work independently +and without systematic cooperation. The most urgent need of ethnology +at the present time is a series of investigations of the kind here +attempted, in which the observation and the analysis and interpretation +of the institutions of some one primitive people are carried on +together by the ethnologist working in the field. + +It is clear that such studies need to be based on a scientific and +carefully elaborated method. Unfortunately ethnologists are not yet +agreed as to the methods of their science. The question of method is +therefore, at the present time, of the greatest importance, and for +this reason I have tried, in the present chapter, to present the +argument in such a way that the various steps of the analysis shall be +immediately apparent, so that the reader may be able not only to judge +the value of the conclusions, but also to form a clear idea of the +psychological methods by which they are reached. + +Any attempt to explain or interpret the particular beliefs and customs +of a savage people is necessarily based on some general psychological +hypothesis as to the real nature of the phenomena to be explained. The +sound rule of method is therefore to formulate clearly and explicitly +the working hypothesis on which the interpretation is based. It is only +in this way that its value can be properly tested. + +The hypothesis that seems to be most usually adopted by English writers +on anthropology is that the beliefs of savage peoples are due to +attempts on the part of primitive man to explain to himself the +phenomena of life and nature. The student of human customs, examining +his own mind, finds that one of the motives most constantly present in +his consciousness is the desire to understand, to explain—in other +words what we call scientific curiosity. He concludes that this motive +is equally insistent in the mind of primitive man. Thus he supposes +that primitive man, wishing to explain the phenomena of death and of +sleep and dreams, framed a hypothesis that every man possesses a soul +or spiritual double [153]. The hypothesis, once formulated, is supposed +to have been accepted and believed because it satisfied this need of +comprehension. On this view the belief in a soul (animism) is exactly +similar in character to the scientific belief in atoms, let us say. The +same general hypothesis appears in the explanation of totemism as +having arisen as a theory invented by primitive man in order to explain +the phenomena of pregnancy and childbirth [154]. + +On this hypothesis the beliefs are primary, arising first merely as +beliefs and then acquiring the power to influence action and so giving +rise to all sorts of ceremonies and customs. Thus these customs are +only to be explained by showing that they depend on particular beliefs. +This hypothesis, which we may call the intellectualist hypothesis, has +never, so far as I am aware, been very clearly formulated or defended, +but it does seem to underlie many of the explanations of the customs of +primitive man to be found in works on ethnology. + +A second hypothesis explains the beliefs of primitive man as being due +to emotions of surprise and terror [155], or of awe and wonder [156] +aroused by the contemplation of the phenomena of nature. + +Both these hypotheses may be held together, one being used to explain +some primitive beliefs and the other to explain others [157]. + +Doubtless there are other psychological hypotheses underlying the many +attempts that have been made to explain the customs of primitive +peoples, but these two seem to be the most important and the most +widespread. They are mentioned here, not in order to criticise them, +but in order to contrast them with the hypothesis to be formulated in +the present chapter [158]. + +Stated as briefly as possible the working hypothesis here adopted is as +follows. (1) A society depends for its existence on the presence in the +minds of its members of a certain system of sentiments [159] by which +the conduct of the individual is regulated in conformity with the needs +of the society. (2) Every feature of the social system itself and every +event or object that in any way affects the well-being or the cohesion +of the society becomes an object of this system of sentiments. (3) In +human society the sentiments in question are not innate but are +developed in the individual by the action of the society upon him. (4) +The ceremonial customs of a society are a means by which the sentiments +in question are given collective expression on appropriate occasions. +(5) The ceremonial (i.e. collective) expression of any sentiment serves +both to maintain it at the requisite degree of intensity in the mind of +the individual and to transmit it from one generation to another. +Without such expression the sentiments involved could not exist. + +Using the term “social function” to denote the effects of an +institution (custom or belief) in so far as they concern the society +and its solidarity or cohesion, the hypothesis of this chapter may be +more briefly resumed in the statement that the social function of the +ceremonial customs of the Andaman Islanders is to maintain and to +transmit from one generation to another the emotional dispositions on +which the society (as it is constituted) depends for its existence. + +The present chapter contains an attempt to apply this hypothesis to the +ceremonial customs of the Andaman Islanders. An attempt will be made to +show that there is a correspondence between the customs and beliefs of +the Andamanese and a certain system of social sentiments, and that +there is also a correspondence between these sentiments and the manner +in which the society is constituted. It is an attempt to discover +necessary connections between the different characters of a society as +they exist in the present. No attempt will be made to discover or +imagine the historical process by which these customs have come into +existence. + +For the clearer understanding of the argument it is necessary to draw +attention to a few rules of method that will be observed. (1) In +explaining any given custom it is necessary to take into account the +explanation given by the natives themselves. Although these +explanations are not of the same kind as the scientific explanations +that are the objects of our search yet they are of great importance as +data. Like the civilised man of Western Europe the savage of the +Andamans seeks to rationalise his behaviour; being impelled to certain +actions by mental dispositions of whose origin and real nature he is +unaware, he seeks to formulate reasons for his conduct, or even if he +does not so when left to himself he is compelled to when the enquiring +ethnologist attacks him with questions. Such a reason as is produced by +this process of rationalisation is rarely if ever identical with the +psychological cause of the action that it justifies, yet it will nearly +always help us in our search for the cause. At any rate the reason +given as explaining an action is so intimately connected with the +action itself that we cannot regard any hypothesis as to the meaning of +a custom as being satisfactory unless it explains not only the custom +but also the reasons that the natives give for following it. (2) The +assumption is made that when the same or a similar custom is practised +on different occasions it has the same or a similar meaning in all of +them. For example, there are different occasions on which a personal +name is avoided; it is assumed that there is something in common to all +these occasions and that the meaning of the custom is to be discovered +by ascertaining what that common element is. (3) It is assumed that +when different customs are practised together on one and the same +occasion there is a common element in the customs. This rule is the +inverse of the last. As an example may be mentioned the different +customs observed by mourners, which may be assumed to be all related to +one another. The discovery of what is common to them all will explain +the meaning of each. (4) I have avoided, as being misleading as well as +unnecessary, any comparison of Andamanese customs with similar customs +of other races. Only in one or two instances have I broken this rule, +and in those I believe I am justified by special considerations. + +We can conveniently begin by considering the Andamanese marriage +ceremony, which is one of the simplest and most easily understood. The +main feature of it is that the bride and bridegroom are required +publicly to embrace each other. In the North Andaman the embrace is +made gradually, by stages as it were, each stage being more intimate +than the preceding. At first the two sit side by side, then their arms +are placed around each other, and finally the bridegroom is made to sit +on the bride’s lap [160]. + +Everywhere in human life the embrace is employed as an expression of +such feelings as love, affection, friendship, i.e. of feelings of +attachment between persons. There is no need to enquire into the +psycho-physical basis of this expression. It is probably intimately +related to the nursing of the infant by the mother, and is certainly +very closely connected with the development of the sex instinct. It is +sufficient for our purpose to satisfy ourselves that the embrace in all +its forms does always express feelings of one generic kind. Nor is it +necessary for us to consider the peculiar form of the Andamanese +embrace, in which one person sits down and extends his or her legs, +while the other person sits on the lap so formed and the two wrap their +arms round one another’s necks and shoulders. + +The meaning of the marriage ceremony is readily seen. By marriage the +man and woman are brought into a special and intimate relation to one +another; they are, as we say, united. The social union is symbolised or +expressed by the physical union of the embrace. The ceremony brings +vividly to the minds of the young couple and also to those of the +spectators the consciousness that the two are entering upon a new +social relation of which the essential feature is the affection in +which they must hold one another. + +The rite has two aspects according as we regard it from the standpoint +of the witnesses or from that of the couple themselves. The witnesses, +by their presence, give their sanction to the union that is thus +enacted before them. The man who conducts the ceremony is merely the +active representative of the community; in what he does and says he +acts as a deputy and not as a private individual. Thus the ceremony +serves to make it clear that the marriage is a matter which concerns +not only those who are entering into it, but the whole community, and +its occasional performance serves to keep alive this sentiment with +regard to marriage in general. The existence of the sentiment is shown +in the reprobation felt and often expressed at an irregular marriage, +in which the couple unite without a ceremony; such a union showing a +contemptuous or careless thrusting aside of an important social +principle. + +For the witnesses, then, the ceremony serves to awaken to activity and +to express this sentiment; but it also serves as a recognition on their +part of the change of status of the marrying pair. It makes them +realise that henceforward the young couple must be treated no longer as +children but as responsible adults, and it is thus the occasion of a +change of sentiment towards those whose social position is being +changed. For in the society of the Andamans there is a very marked +division between married and unmarried persons in the way in which they +are regarded by others, and in respect of their place in the community. + +The married couple are made to realise, in a different way and with a +much greater intensity of feeling, these same two things; first, that +their union in marriage is a matter that concerns the whole community, +and second, that they are entering a new condition, with new privileges +but also with new duties and obligations. For them, indeed, the +ceremony is a sort of ordeal from which they would only too gladly +escape, and which, by the powerful emotions it evokes in them very +vividly impresses upon them what their marriage means. + +The wedding gifts that are bestowed upon the young couple are an +expression of the general good-will towards them. The giving of +presents is a common method of expressing friendship in the Andamans. +Thus when two friends meet after separation, the first thing they do +after having embraced and wept together, is to give one another +presents. In most instances the giving is reciprocal, and is therefore +really an exchange. If a present be given as a sign of good-will the +giver expects to receive a present of about equal value in return. The +reason for this is obvious; the one has expressed his good-will towards +the other, and if the feeling is reciprocated a return present must be +given in order to express it. So also it would be an insult to refuse a +present offered, for to do so would be equivalent to rejecting the +good-will it represents. At marriage the giving is one-sided, no return +being expected, for it is an expression not of personal friendship on +the part of the givers, but of the general social good-will and +approval. It is for this reason that it is the duty of everybody who is +present to make some gift to the newly-married pair. + +In another simple ceremony, the peace-making ceremony of the North +Andaman [161], the meaning is again easily discovered; the symbolism of +the dance being indeed at once obvious to a witness, though perhaps not +quite so obvious from the description given. The dancers are divided +into two parties. The actions of the one party throughout are +expressions of their aggressive feelings towards the other. This is +clear enough in the shouting, the threatening gestures, and the way in +which each member of the “attacking” party gives a good shaking to each +member of the other party. On the other side what is expressed may be +described as complete passivity; the performers stand quite still +throughout the whole dance, taking care to show neither fear nor +resentment at the treatment to which they have to submit. Thus those of +the one side give collective expression to their collective anger, +which is thereby appeased. The others, by passively submitting to this, +humbling themselves before the just wrath of their enemies, expiate +their wrongs. Anger appeased dies down; wrongs expiated are forgiven +and forgotten; the enmity is at an end. + +The screen of fibre against which the passive participants in the +ceremony stand has a peculiar symbolic meaning that will be explained +later in the chapter. The only other elements of the ceremony are the +weeping together, which will be dealt with very soon, and the exchange +of weapons, which is simply a special form of the rite of exchanging +presents as an expression of good-will. The special form is +particularly appropriate as it would seem to ensure at least some +months of friendship, for you cannot go out to fight a man with his +weapons while he has yours. + +The purpose of the ceremony is clearly to produce a change in the +feelings of the two parties towards one another, feelings of enmity +being replaced through it by feelings of friendship and solidarity. It +depends for its effect on the fact that anger and similar aggressive +feelings may be appeased by being freely expressed. Its social function +is to restore the condition of solidarity between two local groups that +has been destroyed by some act of offence. + +The marriage ceremony and the peace-making dance both afford examples +of the custom which the Andamanese have of weeping together under +certain circumstances. The principal occasions of this ceremonial +weeping are as follows: (1) when two friends or relatives meet after +having been for some time parted, they embrace each other and weep +together; (2) at the peace-making ceremony the two parties of former +enemies weep together, embracing each other; (3) at the end of the +period of mourning the friends of the mourners (who have not themselves +been mourning) weep with the latter; (4) after a death the relatives +and friends embrace the corpse and weep over it; (5) when the bones of +a dead man or woman are recovered from the grave they are wept over; +(6) on the occasion of a marriage the relatives of each weep over the +bride and bridegroom; (7) at various stages of the initiation +ceremonies the female relatives of a youth or girl weep over him or +her. + +First of all it is necessary to note that not in any of the +above-mentioned instances is the weeping simply a spontaneous +expression of feeling. It is always a rite the proper performance of +which is demanded by custom. (As mentioned in an earlier chapter, the +Andamanese are able to sit down and shed tears at will.) Nor can we +explain the weeping as being an expression of sorrow. It is true that +some of the occasions are such as to produce sorrowful feelings (4 and +5, for example), but there are others on which there would seem to be +no reason for sorrow but rather for joy. The Andamanese do weep from +sorrow and spontaneously. A child cries when he is scolded or hurt; a +widow weeps thinking of her recently dead husband. Men rarely weep +spontaneously for any reason, though they shed tears abundantly when +taking part in the rite. The weeping on the occasions enumerated is +therefore not a spontaneous expression of individual emotion but is an +example of what I have called ceremonial customs. In certain +circumstances men and women are required by custom to embrace one +another and weep, and if they neglected to do so it would be an offence +condemned by all right-thinking persons. + +According to the postulate of method laid down at the beginning of the +chapter we have to seek such an explanation of this custom as will +account for all the different occasions on which the rite is performed, +since we must assume that one and the same rite has the same meaning in +whatever circumstances it may take place. It must be noted, however, +that there are two varieties of the rite. In the first three instances +enumerated above the rite is reciprocal, i.e. two persons or two +distinct groups of persons weep together and embrace each other, both +parties to the rite being active. In the other four instances it is +one-sided; a person or group of persons weeps over another person (or +the relics of a person) who has only a passive part in the ceremony. +Any explanation, to be satisfactory, must take account of the +difference between these two varieties. + +I would explain the rite as being an expression of that feeling of +attachment between persons which is of such importance in the almost +domestic life of the Andaman society. In other words the purpose of the +rite is to affirm the existence of a social bond between two or more +persons. + +There are two elements in the ceremony, the embrace and the weeping. We +have already seen that the embrace is an expression, in the Andamans as +elsewhere, of the feeling of attachment, i.e. the feeling of which +love, friendship, affection are varieties. Turning to the second +element of the ceremony, we are accustomed to think of weeping as more +particularly an expression of sorrow. We are familiar, however, with +tears of joy, and I have myself observed tears that were the result +neither of joy nor of sorrow but of a sudden overwhelming feeling of +affection. I believe that we may describe weeping as being a means by +which the mind obtains relief from a condition of emotional tension, +and that it is because such conditions of tension are most common in +feelings of grief and pain that weeping comes to be associated with +painful feelings. It is impossible here to discuss this subject, and I +am therefore compelled to assume without proof this proposition on +which my explanation of the rite is based [162]. My own conclusion, +based on careful observation, is that in this rite the weeping is an +expression of what has been called the tender emotion [163]. Without +doubt, on some of the occasions of the rite, as when weeping over a +dead friend, the participants are suffering a painful emotion, but this +is evidently not so on all occasions. It is true, however, as I shall +show, that on every occasion of the rite there is a condition of +emotional tension due to the sudden calling into activity of the +sentiment of personal attachment. + +When two friends or relatives meet after having been separated, the +social relation between them that has been interrupted is about to be +renewed. This social relation implies or depends upon the existence of +a specific bond of solidarity between them. The weeping rite (together +with the subsequent exchange of presents) is the affirmation of this +bond. The rite, which, it must be remembered, is obligatory, compels +the two participants to act as though they felt certain emotions, and +thereby does, to some extent, produce those emotions in them. When the +two friends meet their first feeling seems to be one of shyness mingled +with pleasure at seeing each other again. This is according to the +statements of the natives as well as my own observation. Now this +shyness (the Andamanese use the same word as they do for “shame”) is +itself a condition of emotional tension, which has to be relieved in +some way. The embrace awakens to full activity that feeling of +affection or friendship that has been dormant and which it is the +business of the rite to renew. The weeping gives relief to the +emotional tension just noted, and also reinforces the effect of the +embrace. This it does owing to the fact that a strong feeling of +personal attachment is always produced when two persons join together +in sharing and simultaneously expressing one and the same emotion +[164]. The little ceremony thus serves to dispel the initial feeling of +shyness and to reinstate the condition of intimacy and affection that +existed before the separation. + +In the peace-making ceremony the purpose of the whole rite is to +abolish a condition of enmity and replace it by one of friendship. The +once friendly relations between the two groups have been interrupted by +a longer or shorter period of antagonism. We have seen that the effect +of the dance is to dispel the wrath of the one group by giving it free +expression. The weeping that follows is the renewal of the friendship. +The rite is here exactly parallel to that on the meeting of two +friends, except that not two individuals but two groups are concerned, +and that owing to the number of persons involved the emotional +condition is one of much greater intensity [165]. Here therefore also +we see that the rite is an affirmation of solidarity or social union, +in this instance between the groups, and that the rule is in its nature +such as to make the participants feel that they are bound to each other +by ties of friendship. + +We now come to a more difficult example of the rite, that at the end of +mourning. It will be shown later in the chapter that during the period +of mourning the mourners are cut off from the ordinary life of the +community. By reason of the ties that still bind them to the dead +person they are placed, as it were, outside the society and the bonds +that unite them to their group are temporarily loosened. At the end of +the mourning period they re-enter the society and take up once more +their place in the social life. Their return to the community is the +occasion on which they and their friends weep together. In this +instance also, therefore, the rite may be explained as having for its +purpose the renewal of the social relations that have been interrupted. +This explanation will seem more convincing when we have considered in +detail the customs of mourning. If it be accepted, then it may be seen +that in the first three instances of the rite of weeping (those in +which the action is reciprocal) we have conditions in which social +relations that have been interrupted are about to be renewed, and the +rite serves as a ceremony of aggregation. + +Let us now consider the second variety of the rite, and first of all +its meaning as part of the ceremony of marriage. By marriage the social +bonds that have to that time united the bride and bridegroom to their +respective relatives, particularly their female relatives such as +mother, mother’s sister, father’s sister and adopted mother, are +modified. The unmarried youth or girl is in a position of dependence +upon his or her older relatives, and by the marriage this dependence is +partly abolished. Whereas the principal duties of the bride were +formerly those towards her mother and older female relatives, +henceforth her chief duties in life will be towards her husband. The +position of the bridegroom is similar, and it must be noted that his +social relations with his male relatives are less affected by his +marriage than those with his female relatives. Yet, though the ties +that have bound the bride and bridegroom to their relatives are about +to be modified or partially destroyed by the new ties of marriage with +its new duties and rights they will still continue to exist in a +weakened and changed condition. The rite of weeping is the expression +of this. It serves to make real (by feeling), in those taking part in +it, the presence of the social ties that are being modified. + +When the mother of the bride or bridegroom weeps at a marriage she +feels that her son or daughter is being taken from her care. She has +the sorrow of a partial separation and she consoles herself by +expressing in the rite her continued feeling of tenderness and +affection towards him in the new condition that he is entering upon. +For her the chief result of the rite is to make her feel that her child +is still an object of her affection, still bound to her by close ties, +in spite of the fact that he or she is being taken from her care. + +Exactly the same explanation holds with regard to the weeping at the +initiation ceremonies. By these ceremonies the youth (or girl) is +gradually withdrawn from a condition of dependence on his mother and +older female relatives and is made an independent member of the +community. The initiation is a long process that is only completed by +marriage. At every stage of the lengthy ceremonies therefore, the +social ties that unite the initiate to these relatives are modified or +weakened, and the rite of weeping is the means by which the +significance of the change is impressed upon those taking part in it. +For the mother the weeping expresses her resignation at her necessary +loss, and acts as a consolation by making her feel that her son is +still hers, though now being withdrawn from her care. For the boy the +rite has a different meaning. He realises that he is no longer merely a +child, dependent upon his mother, but is now entering upon manhood. His +former feelings towards his mother must be modified. That he is being +separated from her is, for him, the most important aspect of the +matter, and therefore while she weeps he must give no sign of +tenderness in return but must sit passive and silent. So also in the +marriage ceremony, the rite serves to impress upon the young man and +woman that they are, by reason of the new ties that they are forming +with one another, severing their ties with their families. + +When a person dies the social bonds that unite him to the survivors are +profoundly modified. They are not in an instant utterly destroyed, as +we shall see better when we deal with the funeral and mourning customs, +for the friends and relatives still feel towards the dead person that +affection in which they held him when alive, and this has now become a +source of deep grief. It is this affection still binding them to him +that they express in the rite of weeping over the corpse. Here rite and +natural expression of emotion coincide, but it must be noted that the +weeping is obligatory, a matter of duty. In this instance, then, the +rite is similar to that at marriage and initiation. The man is by death +cut off from the society to which he belonged, and from association +with his friends, but the latter still feel towards him that attachment +that bound them together while he lived, and it is this attachment that +they express when they embrace the lifeless corpse and weep over it. + +There remains only one more instance of the rite to be considered. When +the period of mourning for a dead person is over and the bones are +recovered the modification in the relations between the dead and the +living, which begins at death, and is, as we shall see, carried out by +the mourning customs and ceremonies, is finally accomplished. The dead +person is now entirely cut off from the world of the living, save that +his bones are to be treasured as relics and amulets. The weeping over +the bones must be taken, I think, as a rite of aggregation whereby the +bones as representative of the dead person (all that is left of him) +are received back into the society henceforth to fill a special place +in the social life. It really constitutes a renewal of social relations +with the dead person, after a period during which all active social +relations have been interrupted owing to the danger in all contact +between the living and the dead. By the rite the affection that was +once felt towards the dead person is revived and is now directed to the +skeletal relics of the man or woman that once was their object. If this +explanation seem unsatisfactory, I would ask the reader to suspend his +judgment until the funeral customs of the Andamans have been discussed, +and then to return to this point. + +The proffered explanation of the rite of weeping should now be plain. I +regard it as being the affirmation of a bond of social solidarity +between those taking part in it, and as producing in them a realisation +of that bond by arousing the sentiment of attachment. In some instances +the rite therefore serves to renew social relations when they have been +interrupted, and in such instances the rite is reciprocal. In others it +serves to show the continued existence of the social bond when it is +being weakened or modified, as by marriage, initiation or death. In all +instances we may say that the purpose of the rite is to bring about a +new state of the affective dispositions that regulate the conduct of +persons to one another, either by reviving sentiments that have lain +dormant, or producing a recognition of a change in the condition of +personal relations. + +The study of these simple ceremonies has shown us several things of +importance. (1) In every instance the ceremony is the expression of an +affective state of mind shared by two or more persons. Thus the weeping +rite expresses feelings of solidarity, the exchange of presents +expresses good-will. (2) But the ceremonies are not spontaneous +expressions of feeling; they are all customary actions to which the +sentiment of obligation attaches, which it is the duty of persons to +perform on certain definite occasions. It is the duty of everyone in a +community to give presents at a wedding; it is the duty of relatives to +weep together when they meet. (3) In every instance the ceremony is to +be explained by reference to fundamental laws regulating the affective +life of human beings. It is not our business here to analyse these +phenomena but only to satisfy ourselves that they are real. That +weeping is an outlet for emotional excitement, that the free expression +of aggressive feelings causes them to die out instead of smouldering +on, that an embrace is an expression of feelings of attachment between +persons: these are the psychological generalisations upon which are +based the explanations given above of various ceremonies of the +Andamanese. (4) Finally, we have seen that each of the ceremonies +serves to renew or to modify in the minds of those taking part in it +some one or more of the social sentiments. The peace-making ceremony is +a method by which feelings of enmity are exchanged for feelings of +friendship. The marriage rite serves to arouse in the minds of the +marrying pair a sense of their obligations as married folk, and to +bring about in the minds of the witnesses a change of feeling towards +the young people such as should properly accompany their change of +social status. The weeping and exchange of presents when friends come +together is a means of renewing their feelings of attachment to one +another. The weeping at marriage, at initiation, and on the occasion of +a death is a reaction of defence or compensation when feelings of +solidarity are attacked by a partial breaking of the social ties that +bind persons to one another. + +In the ceremonial life of the Andamans some part is played by dancing, +and it will be convenient to consider next the meaning and function of +the dance. It is necessary, however, to deal very briefly with this +subject and omit much that would have to be included in an exhaustive +study. Thus the ordinary Andaman dance may be looked upon as a form of +play; it also shows us the beginnings of the arts of dancing, music and +poetry; and therefore in any study pretending to completeness it would +be necessary to discuss the difficult problem of the relation between +art, play and ceremonial in social life, a subject of too wide a scope +to be handled in such an essay as this. For our present purpose we are +concerned with the dance only as a form of social ceremonial. + +If an Andaman Islander is asked why he dances he gives an answer that +amounts to saying that he does so because he enjoys it. Dancing is +therefore in general a means of enjoyment. It is frequently a +rejoicing. The Andaman Islanders dance after a successful day of +hunting; they do not dance if their day has been one of disappointment. + +Pleasurable mental excitement finds its natural expression in bodily +activity, as we see most plainly in young children and in some animals. +And in its turn mere muscular activity is itself a source of pleasure. +The individual shouts and jumps for joy; the society turns the jump +into a dance, the shout into a song. + +The essential character of all dancing is that it is rhythmical, and it +is fairly evident that the primary function of this rhythmical nature +of the dance is to enable a number of persons to join in the same +actions and perform them as one body. In the Andamans at any rate it is +clear that the spectacular dance (such as the performance described on +page 164) is a late development out of the common dance. And it is +probable that the history of the dance is everywhere the same, that it +began as a common dance in which all present take some active part, and +from this first form (still surviving in our ball-room dances) arose +the spectacular dance in which one or more dancers perform before +spectators who take no part themselves. + +In the Andamans the song is an accompaniment of the dance. The dancing +and singing and the marking of the rhythm by clapping and by stamping +on the sounding-board are all parts of the one common action in which +all join and which for convenience is here spoken of as the dance. It +is probable that here again the Andamanese practice shows us the +earliest stage in the development of the song, that song and music at +first had no independent existence but together with dancing formed one +activity. It is reasonable to suppose that the song first came into +general use in human society because it provides a means by which a +number of persons can utter the same series of sounds together and as +with one voice, this being made possible by the fixed rhythm and the +fixed pitch of the whole song and of each part of it (i.e. by melody). +Once the art of song was in existence its further development was +doubtless largely dependent upon the esthetic pleasure that it is able +to give. But in the Andamans the esthetic pleasure that the natives get +from their simple and monotonous songs seems to me of quite secondary +importance as compared with the value of the song as a joint social +activity. + +The movements of the ordinary Great Andaman dance do not seem to me to +be in themselves expressive, or at any rate they are not obviously +mimetic like the movements of the dances of many primitive folk. Their +function seems to be to bring into activity as many of the muscles of +the body as possible. The bending of the body at the hips and of the +legs at the knees, with the slightly backward poise of the head and the +common position of the arms held in line with the shoulders with the +elbows crooked and the thumb and first finger of each hand clasping +those of the other, produce a condition of tension of a great number of +the muscles of the trunk and limbs. The attitude is one in which all +the main joints of the body are between complete flexion and complete +extension so that there is approximately an equal tension in the +opposing groups of flexor and extensor muscles. Thus the whole body of +the dancer is full of active forces balanced one against another, +resulting in a condition of flexibility and alertness without strain. + +While the dance thus brings into play the whole muscular system of the +dancer it also requires the activity of the two chief senses, that of +sight to guide the dancer in his movements amongst the others and that +of hearing to enable him to keep time with the music. Thus the dancer +is in a condition in which all the bodily and mental activities are +harmoniously directed to one end. + +Finally, in order to understand the function of the Andamanese dance it +must be noted that every adult member of the community takes some part +in it. All the able-bodied men join in the dance itself; all the women +join in the chorus. If anyone through ill-health or old age is unable +to take any active part, he or she is at least necessarily a spectator, +for the dance takes place in the centre of the village in the open +space towards which the huts usually face [166]. + +The Andamanese dance (with its accompanying song) may therefore be +described as an activity in which, by virtue of the effects of rhythm +and melody, all the members of a community are able harmoniously to +cooperate and act in unity; which requires on the part of the dancer a +continual condition of tension free from strain; and which produces in +those taking part in it a high degree of pleasure. We must now proceed +to examine very briefly the chief effects on the mental condition of +those taking part [167]. + +First let us consider some of the effects of rhythm. Any marked rhythm +exercises over those submitted to its influence a constraint, impelling +them to yield to it and to permit it to direct and regulate the +movements of the body and even those of the mind. If one does not yield +to this constraining influence it produces a state of restlessness that +may become markedly unpleasant. One who yields himself utterly to it, +as does the dancer when he joins in the dance, still continues to feel +the constraint, but so far from being unpleasant it now produces a +pleasure of a quite distinct quality. The first point for us to note +therefore is that through the effect of rhythm the dance affords an +experience of a constraint or force of a peculiar kind acting upon the +individual and inducing in him when he yields himself to it a pleasure +of self-surrender. The peculiarity of the force in question is that it +seems to act upon the individual both from without (since it is the +sight of his friends dancing and the sound of the singing and marking +time that occasions it), and also from within (since the impulse to +yield himself to the constraining rhythm comes from his own organism). + +A second effect of the rhythm of the dance is due to the well-known +fact that a series of actions performed rhythmically produces very much +less fatigue than actions not rhythmical requiring the same expenditure +of muscular energy. So the dancer feels that in and through the dance +he obtains such an increase of his personal energy that he is able to +accomplish strenuous exertions with a minimum of fatigue. This effect +of rhythm is reinforced by the excitement produced by the rapid +movements of the dancers, the loud sounds of the song and clapping and +sounding-board, and intensified, as all collective states of emotion +are intensified, by reason of being collective; with the result that +the Andaman Islanders are able to continue their strenuous dancing +through many hours of the night [168]. + +There is yet a third most important effect of rhythm. Recent psychology +shows that what are called the esthetic emotions are largely dependent +upon motor images. We call a form beautiful when, through the movements +of the eye in following it, we feel it as movement, and as movement of +a particular kind which we can only describe at present by using such a +word as ‘harmonious.’ Similarly our esthetic appreciation of music +seems to be largely dependent on our feeling the music as movement, the +sounds appealing not to the ear only but to stored-up unconscious motor +memories. With regard to dancing, our pleasure in watching the +graceful, rhythmical and harmonious movements of the dancer is an +esthetic pleasure of similar nature to that obtained from the +contemplation of beautiful shapes or listening to music. But when the +individual is himself dancing it does not seem quite fitting to call +his pleasure esthetic. Yet the dance, even the simple dance of the +Andamans, does make, in the dancer himself, partly by the effect of +rhythm, partly by the effect of the harmonious and balanced tension of +the muscles, a direct appeal to that motor sense to which the +contemplation of beautiful forms and movements makes only an indirect +appeal. In other words the dancer actually feels within himself that +harmonious action of balanced and directed forces which, in the +contemplation of a beautiful form we feel as though it were in the +object at which we look. Hence such dancing as that of the Andaman +Islanders may be looked upon as an early step in the training of the +esthetic sense, and to recognize all that the dance means we must make +allowance for this fact that the mental state of the dancer is closely +related to the mental state that we call esthetic enjoyment. + +Let us now consider the effects of the dance as a social or collective +activity. First, the dance affords an opportunity for the individual to +exhibit before others his skill and agility and so to gratify his +personal vanity. It is very easy to observe the action of this harmless +vanity in the dancers, and particularly in the man who takes the place +at the sounding-board and acts as soloist or leader of the chorus. The +dancer seeks to feel, and does feel, that he is the object of the +approbation and admiration of his friends. His self-regarding +sentiments are pleasantly stimulated, so that he becomes conscious, in +a state of self-satisfaction and elation, of his own personal value. +This stimulation of the self-regarding sentiment is an important factor +in the total effect produced by the dance. + +Secondly, the dance, at the same time that it stimulates pleasantly the +self-regarding sentiment, also affects the sentiments of the dancer +towards his fellows. The pleasure that the dancer feels irradiates +itself over everything around him and he is filled with geniality and +good-will towards his companions. The sharing with others of an intense +pleasure, or rather the sharing in a collective expression of pleasure, +must ever incline us to such expansive feelings. It is certainly a +readily observable fact that in the Andamans the dance does produce a +condition of warm good-fellowship in those taking part in it. There is +no need to enquire more closely into the mental mechanisms by which +this is brought about. + +The Andaman dance, then, is a complete activity of the whole community, +in which every able-bodied adult takes some part, and is also an +activity in which, so far as the dancer himself is concerned, the whole +personality is involved, by the innervation of all the muscles of the +body, by the concentration of attention required, and by its action on +the personal sentiments. In the dance the individual submits to the +action upon him of the community; he is constrained, by the immediate +effect of rhythm as well as by custom, to join in, and he is required +to conform in his own actions and movements to the needs of the common +activity. The surrender of the individual to this constraint or +obligation is not felt as painful, but on the contrary as highly +pleasurable. As the dancer loses himself in the dance, as he becomes +absorbed in the unified community, he reaches a state of elation in +which he feels himself filled with energy or force immensely beyond his +ordinary state, and so finds himself able to perform prodigies of +exertion. This state of intoxication, as it might almost be called, is +accompanied by a pleasant stimulation of the self-regarding sentiment, +so that the dancer comes to feel a great increase in his personal force +and value. And at the same time, finding himself in complete and +ecstatic harmony with all the fellow-members of his community, +experiences a great increase in his feelings of amity and attachment +towards them. + +In this way the dance produces a condition in which the unity, harmony +and concord of the community are at a maximum, and in which they are +intensely felt by every member. It is to produce this condition, I +would maintain, that is the primary social function of the dance. The +well-being, or indeed the existence, of the society depends on the +unity and harmony that obtain in it, and the dance, by making that +unity intensely felt, is a means of maintaining it. For the dance +affords an opportunity for the direct action of the community upon the +individual, and we have seen that it exercises in the individual those +sentiments by which the social harmony is maintained. + +It was formerly the custom, I was told, always to have a dance before +setting out to a fight. The reason for this should now be clear. When a +group engages in a fight with another it is to revenge some injury that +has been done to the whole group. The group is to act as a group and +not merely as a collection of individuals, and it is therefore +necessary that the group should be conscious of its unity and +solidarity. Now we have seen that the chief function of the dance is to +arouse in the mind of every individual a sense of the unity of the +social group of which he is a member, and its function before setting +out to a fight is therefore apparent. A secondary effect of the dance +before a fight is to intensify the collective anger against the hostile +group, and thereby and in other ways to produce a state of excitement +and elation which has an important influence on the fighting quality of +the Andaman warrior. + +An important feature of the social life of the Andamans in former times +was the dance-meetings that were regularly held and at which two or +more local groups met together for a few days. Each local group lived +for the greater part of the year comparatively isolated from others. +What little solidarity there was between neighbouring groups therefore +tended to become weakened. Social relations between two groups were for +the most part only kept up by visits of individuals from one group to +another, but such visits did not constitute a relation between group +and group. The function of the dance-meetings was therefore to bring +the two groups into contact and renew the social relations between them +and in that way to maintain the solidarity between them. Those +meetings, apart from the provision of the necessary food, were entirely +devoted to the exchange of presents and to dancing, the two or more +parties of men and women joining together every night in a dance. We +have already seen that the exchange of presents is a means of +expressing solidarity or mutual good-will. It is now clear that the +dance serves to unite the two or more groups into one body, and to make +that unity felt by every individual, so creating for a few days a +condition of close solidarity. The effects of the meeting would +gradually wear out as months went by, and therefore it was necessary to +repeat the meeting at suitable intervals. + +Thus it appears that not only the ordinary dance, but also the +war-dance, and the dance-meetings owe their place in the life of the +Andaman Islanders to the fact that dancing is a means of uniting +individuals into a harmonious whole and at the same time making them +actually and intensely experience their relation to that unity of which +they are the members. The special dances at initiation ceremonies and +on other occasions will be dealt with later in the chapter, on the +basis of the general explanation given above. + +On the occasion of a dance, particularly if it be a dance of some +importance, such as a war-dance, or a dance of two groups together, the +dancers decorate themselves by putting on various ornaments and by +painting their bodies with red paint and white clay. The explanation of +the dance cannot therefore be regarded as complete till we have +considered the meaning of this personal adornment connected with it. + +If the Andaman Islander be asked why he adorns himself for the dance, +his reply is invariably that he wishes to look well, to improve his +personal appearance. In other words his conscious motive is personal +vanity. + +One of the features of the dance, and a not unimportant one, is that it +offers an opportunity for the gratification of personal vanity. The +dancer, painted, and hung over with ornaments, becomes pleasantly +conscious of himself, of his own skill and agility, and of his striking +or at least satisfactory appearance, and so he becomes also conscious +of his relation to others, of their admiration, actual or possible, and +of the approval and good-will that go with admiration. In brief, the +ornamented dancer is pleasantly conscious of his own personal value. We +may therefore say that the most important function of any such adorning +of the body is to express or mark the personal value of the decorated +individual. + +This explanation only applies to certain bodily ornaments and to +certain ways of painting the body. It applies to the painting of white +clay, with or without red paint, that is adopted at dances and on other +ceremonial occasions. It applies to such personal ornaments as those +made of netting and Dentalium shell which constitute what may be called +the ceremonial costume of the Andamanese. It is of these that the +natives say that they use them in order to look well. + +The occasions on which such personal decoration is used are strictly +defined by custom. In other words the society dictates to the +individual when and how he shall be permitted to express his own +personal value. It is obvious that personal vanity is of great +importance in directing the conduct of the individual in his dealings +with his fellows, and much more amongst a primitive people such as the +Andamanese than amongst ourselves, and it is therefore necessary that +the society should have some means of controlling the sentiment and +directing it towards social ends. We have seen that the dance is the +expression of the unity and harmony of the society, and by permitting +at the dance the free expression of personal vanity the society ensures +that the individual shall learn to feel, even if only subconsciously, +that his personal value depends upon the harmony between himself and +his fellows. + +The bride and bridegroom are painted with white clay, and wear +ornaments of Dentalium shell on the day following their marriage. We +have seen that marriage involves a change of social status, and we may +say that it gives an increased social value to the married pair, the +social position of a married man or woman being of greater importance +and dignity than that of a bachelor or spinster. They are, after +marriage, the objects of higher regard on the part of their fellows +than they were before. It is therefore appropriate that the personal +value of the bride and bridegroom should be expressed so that both they +themselves and their fellows should have their attention drawn to it, +and this is clearly the function of the painting and ornaments. + +After the completion of any of the more important of the initiation +ceremonies, such as the eating of turtle, the initiate is painted with +white clay and red paint and wears ornaments of Dentalium shell. This +is exactly parallel to the painting of the bride and bridegroom. The +initiate, by reason of the ceremony he has been through, has acquired +new dignity and importance, and by having fulfilled the requirements of +custom has deserved the approval of his fellows. The decoration of his +body after the ceremony is thus the expression of his increased social +value. + +A corpse, before burial, is decorated in the same manner as the body of +a dancer. This, we may take it, is the means by which the surviving +relatives and friends express their regard for the dead, i.e. their +sense of his value. We need not suppose that they believe the dead man +to be conscious of what they are doing. It is to satisfy themselves +that they decorate the corpse, not to satisfy the spirit. When a man is +painted he feels that he has the regard and good-will of his fellows, +and those who see him, at any rate in the instance of a bridegroom or +initiate, realise that he has deserved their regard. So, to express +their regard for the dead man they paint the inanimate body. Hence it +is that the greater the esteem in which the dead man or woman is held, +the greater is the care bestowed on the last painting. + +We may conclude therefore that the painting of the body with white clay +and the wearing of ornaments of Dentalium shell is a rite or ceremony +by which the value of the individual to the society is expressed on +appropriate occasions. We shall find confirmation of this later in the +chapter. + +Before passing on to consider the meaning of other methods of +decorating the body there is one matter that is worthy of mention. It +is often assumed or stated that both personal ornament and dancing, +amongst uncivilised peoples, are connected with sexual emotion. It is, +of course, extremely difficult to disprove a statement of this sort. So +far as the Andamanese are concerned I was unable to find any trace +whatever of a definitely sexual element in either their dances or their +personal adornment. It may be recalled that both men and women wear +exactly the same ornaments on ceremonial occasions, and this is to some +extent evidence that such have no sexual value. It is possible that +some observers might see in the dance of the women (which is only +performed on rare occasions) a suggestion of something of a sexual +nature. I was unable to find that the natives themselves consider that +there is anything suggestive of sex in either the dance of the men or +that of the women. If it were true that the most important feature of +the dance was that it appealed in some way to sexual feelings it is +difficult to see how we are to explain the different occasions on which +dancing takes place, as before a fight, at the end of mourning, etc., +whereas these are adequately accounted for by the hypothesis that the +dance is a method of expressing the unity and harmony of the society. +Similarly the explanation of personal ornament as being connected with +sexual feeling would fail to account for the occasions on which it is +regarded as obligatory. There is therefore, I believe, no special +connection between the dancing and personal ornament of the Andamanese +and sexual feeling. It would still be possible to hold that there is a +general connection of great importance between the affective +dispositions underlying these and other customs and the complex +affective disposition that we call the sex instinct. The nature of that +connection, important as it is, lies outside the scope of this work. + +I remarked above that the explanation which I have given of the meaning +of personal ornament does not apply to all the objects that the Andaman +Islanders wear on their body, but only to certain of them. If an +Andaman Islander be asked why he paints himself with white clay, or why +he wears a belt or necklace of Dentalium shell he replies that he does +so in order to look well; but if he be asked why he wears a string of +human bones round his head or neck or waist, he gives quite a different +answer, to the effect that he does so in order to protect himself from +dangers of a special kind. According to circumstances he will say +either that he is wearing the bones to cure himself of illness, or else +that he wears them as a protection against spirits. Thus while some +things are worn on the body in order to improve the personal +appearance, and consequently, as explained above, to give the +individual a sense of his own value, others are worn because they are +believed to have a protective power, and thereby arouse in the person a +sense of security. Exactly the same sort of protective power is +attributed to things that cannot be worn on the body, such as fire, and +it will therefore be convenient to consider together all the things +that afford this kind of protection, whether they can be worn on the +body or not. + +The interpretation here offered is that the customs connected with this +belief in the protective power of objects of various kinds are means by +which is expressed and thereby maintained at the necessary degree of +energy a very important social sentiment, which, for lack of a better +term, I shall call the sentiment of dependence. In such a primitive +society as that of the Andamans one of the most powerful means of +maintaining the cohesion of the society and of enforcing that +conformity to custom and tradition without which social life is +impossible, is the recognition by the individual that for his security +and well-being he depends entirely upon the society. Now for the +Andaman Islander the society is not sufficiently concrete and +particular to act as the object of such a sentiment, and he therefore +feels his dependence upon the society not directly but in a number of +indirect ways. The particular way with which we are now concerned is +that the individual experiences this feeling of dependence towards +every important possession of the society, towards every object which +for the society has constant and important uses. + +The most prominent example of such an object is fire. It may be said to +be the one object on which the society most of all depends for its +well-being. It provides warmth on cold nights; it is the means whereby +they prepare their food, for they eat nothing raw save a few fruits; it +is a possession that has to be constantly guarded, for they have no +means of producing it, and must therefore take care to keep it always +alight; it is the first thing they think of carrying with them when +they go on a journey by land or sea; it is the centre around which the +social life moves, the family hearth being the centre of the family +life, while the communal cooking place is the centre round which the +men often gather after the day’s hunting is over. To the mind of the +Andaman Islander, therefore, the social life of which his own life is a +fragment, the social well-being which is the source of his own +happiness, depend upon the possession of fire, without which the +society could not exist. In this way it comes about that his dependence +on the society appears in his consciousness as a sense of dependence +upon fire and a belief that it possesses power to protect him from +dangers of all kinds. + +The belief in the protective power of fire is very strong. A man would +never move even a few yards out of camp at night without a fire-stick. +More than any other object fire is believed to keep away the spirits +that cause disease and death. This belief, it is here maintained, is +one of the ways in which the individual is made to feel his dependence +upon the society. + +Now this hypothesis is capable of being very strictly tested by the +facts, for if it is true we must expect to find that the same +protective power is attributed to every object on which the social life +depends. An examination of the Andamanese beliefs shows that this is +so, and thereby confirms the hypothesis. + +In their daily life the Andamanese depend on the intrinsic qualities of +the materials they use for their bows and arrows and harpoons and other +hunting implements, and it can be shown that they do attribute to these +implements and to the materials from which they are made powers of +protection against evil. Moreover it is even possible to apply a +quantitative test and show that the more important the place a thing +occupies in the social life the greater is the degree of protective +power attributed to it. Finally I shall be able to show that as +different materials are used for special purposes so they are supposed +to have certain special powers of protection against certain sorts of +danger. Thus the hypothesis I have stated is capable of being as nearly +demonstrated as is possible in such psychological enquiries as the one +we are engaged in. + +A man carrying his bow and arrows is supposed to be less likely to fall +a victim to the spirits than one who has no weapons with him. One way +of stopping a violent storm is to go into the sea (storms being +supposed to be due to the spirits of the sea) and swish the water about +with arrows. The natives sometimes wear a necklace formed of short +lengths of the bamboo shaft of a fish-arrow. All the examples of such +necklaces that I met with had been made from an old arrow. I asked a +native to make one for me, and although he could readily have made one +from bamboo that had never served as an arrow he did not do so, but +used the shaft of one of his arrows. Such a necklace may therefore be +described as an arrow in such a form that it can be worn round the neck +and thus carried continually without trouble. The protective power of +the bow is at first sight not quite so evident, but the material used +for the string is regarded as possessing protective power, and to this +I shall return shortly. + +The best demonstration of the truth of the explanation offered is to be +found by considering the different vegetable fibres of which use is +made. The most important of these are the Anadendron paniculatum (used +for bow-strings and for fine string), the Hibiscus tiliaceus (used for +rope) and the Gnetum edule (used for string, and inferior to the +Anadendron). All these fibres are believed to possess power to keep +away dangers, but there is a sort of specialisation in their use. + +The fibre of the Hibiscus is used mainly in the hunting of turtle and +big fish. Consequently the tree itself from which the fibre is obtained +is believed to possess the power of warding off all dangers connected +with turtle and the sea. There is a custom that turtle flesh may only +be cooked with wood of the Hibiscus, otherwise it will be uneatable. In +the turtle-eating ceremony the initiate who, as we shall see later, is +in a condition of danger by reason of having eaten turtle for the first +time after a period of abstention, is seated on Hibiscus leaves and +holds a bundle of the same leaves before him. At the same ceremony the +leaves of this tree are used in the dance, and the initiate is given a +skewer made from its wood with which to feed himself. If for any reason +the leaves of the Hibiscus are not obtainable when the ceremony is +performed those of the Myristica longifolia are used instead. Now this +is the tree from which the natives always make their canoe paddles, +which, like ropes of Hibiscus fibre, are used in hunting turtle. This +specialisation is therefore easy to understand; the natives habitually +make use of the Hibiscus and the Myristica in turtle-hunting; they use +the intrinsic qualities of these trees in their actual struggles with +turtle and large fish, and by means of these qualities they are able to +succeed in overcoming their prey; they therefore come to believe that +these trees possess special powers which not only enable them to +conquer the turtle itself but also are able to protect them from the +evil influences that they believe (for reasons to be explained later) +result from the eating of its flesh. + +This explanation is readily verified by considering an exactly parallel +instance. In the pig-eating ceremony at initiation the leaves of the +Hibiscus or the Myristica are not used, and are regarded as valueless. +Paddles and ropes are of no use in hunting pigs. The leaves that are +used in this ceremony are those of the Tetranthera lancæfolia. It is +from this tree that are obtained the shafts of pig-arrows. Hence the +relation of the tree to the pig is exactly parallel to that of the +Hibiscus to turtle. It is by making use of the qualities of the wood +that they are able to destroy the pig and so they believe that its +leaves will enable them to destroy the dangers that result from the +eating of the animal. + +The leaves of the Tetranthera are also used, however, in the ceremony +at a girl’s first menstruation, and I cannot pass over this without an +explanation. It is to be found in the fact that pig-arrows are used in +fighting, so that the tree comes to have a special relation to the +shedding of blood. Plumes of shredded Tetranthera wood (made from an +old arrow-shaft) must be worn by a homicide during the period of +“purification” as a protection against the dangers that are believed to +threaten him because he has shed blood. The same plumes were formerly +always carried in a dance preceding a fight, and at such times the +natives used to rub their bows with the shredded wood in order to +ensure success in battle. Thus it is clear that there is a special +connection between this tree and the shedding of blood, due to the fact +that pig-arrows, of which the shafts are made from it, are used in +fighting as well as for killing pigs and other animals. It is probable +that this is the explanation of the use of the leaves during the +ceremony at a girl’s first menstruation. + +These examples afford a crucial test of the hypothesis here maintained. +Not only is the protective power of these substances explicable by the +fact that they are things on which the society depends in its daily +life, but the special uses of each of them as amulets are only +explicable when we consider the different uses to which they are put as +materials. + +The fibre of the Anadendron paniculatum is used for making thread, +bow-strings, the cords of pig-arrows, and for binding the heads and +barbs of harpoons and arrows. It has therefore no special relation to +either pig or turtle. There is a belief, however, that the plant does +possess special protective powers that make it efficacious against +certain dangers coming from the sea. A piece of the plant tied round +the neck or worn in the belt of a swimmer is believed to protect him +from sharks and other dangerous fish. A piece of it crushed and placed +in the sea is said to have stopped a violent storm on one occasion. +Thus the Anadendron seems to possess a special power which makes it a +source of protection against dangers from the sea. The same is true of +the Gnetum edule, though, as this fibre is less valued than that of the +Anadendron, it is not supposed to be so powerful in its effects. In +regard to the specialisation in the use of these two plants as amulets +it seems likely that it is due to a notion of opposition between the +things of the forest and the things of the sea. The Andamanese live in +a double environment; the jungle-dwellers live entirely in the forest +and have dealings with forest things; they develop knowledge and powers +that make them better woodsmen than the coast-dwellers. The latter live +by the sea and are chiefly occupied with things of the sea, being +skilled in the occupations of fishing and canoeing. There is thus a +contrast or opposition between the life of the forest and the life of +the shore that runs through all the social life, and I believe that it +is this opposition which explains the belief that the Anadendron and +the Gnetum, which are essentially forest things, are possessed of a +quality that makes them contrary or opposed to all things of the sea. + +Personal ornaments are made from the fibres that have been mentioned +(Hibiscus, Anadendron, Gnetum), and we are justified, I think, in +regarding such ornaments as being to some extent amulets. I purchased +from a man in the Little Andaman a charm that was hanging round his +neck, which he seemed to value highly. I imagined that it might contain +a human bone, but when I had unwound the ornamental thread with which +it was bound and opened out the covering of bark I found inside the +parcel only a carefully folded length of rope made from Hibiscus fibre. + +There is one fibre from which the natives of the Great Andaman make +themselves ornaments, which they do not regularly use in any other way, +namely that of the Ficus laccifera. We may perhaps regard this as a +genuine and demonstrable example of a survival in custom. The natives +of the Little Andaman, who, until their recent contact with those of +the Great Andaman, did not know the use of the Anadendron, use the +fibre of the Ficus for their bow-strings. We are justified in assuming, +I believe, that the natives of the Great Andaman made a similar use of +the same fibre before they had learnt to use the Anadendron. In those +days much of the power that is now attributed to the Anadendron, +because of its service as the material for bow-strings, must then have +been attributed to the Ficus. When the substitution of the superior +Anadendron fibre came about, the belief in the efficacy of the Ficus +did not disappear, although the ground of the belief (if we may call it +so) had ceased to exist. If this be so, then the present use of the +Ficus fibre as an amulet is an example of survival. It may be noted +that the qualities of the Ficus are supposed to be similar to those of +the Anadendron. Thus while one medicine-man stopped a storm with +Anadendron, another did the same thing on another occasion with Ficus. + +The above examples are sufficient to justify the generalisation that +the Andamanese attribute protective power to all those substances on +the strength and other qualities of which they rely in order to obtain +their food or overcome their enemies. There are one or two other +positive instances that have not been mentioned. Bees’-wax, which is +used for waxing thread and bow-strings, is believed to have power to +keep spirits away and to cure sickness. Cane, which is used by the +natives for many different purposes, seems also to have its use as an +amulet, for belts and other personal ornaments are made of pieces of +cane attached to a length of rope. + +Negative instances are more difficult to discover. When I was in the +Andamans I had not formulated the explanation that is offered here, and +I therefore did not make any search for negative instances that might +have afforded a means of testing the value of the hypothesis. I have no +satisfactory evidence that protective power is attributed to iron, or +to the shells that were formerly used, as iron now is, for the heads +and barbs of arrows, but it is quite possible that I may have +overlooked evidence that was really there. I do not think that any +particular protective properties are attributed to such things as the +materials from which baskets are made and the clay that is used for +pottery. These things, however, may be regarded as luxuries rather than +necessities; they are not of the same immediate service to the society +in its fundamental activity (that of providing food) as are weapons and +the materials used in them. + +There are still two important kinds of amulets that remain to be +considered. First, protective power is attributed to the bones of +animals, which are made into personal ornaments; these cannot be dealt +with until we have considered some of the beliefs relating to food. +Secondly, a very high degree of protective power is attributed to human +bones, but the discussion of this belief must wait till we have +discovered the meaning of the funeral customs of the Andamanese. + +To conclude the present argument, it would seem that the function of +the belief in the protective power of such things as fire and the +materials from which weapons are made is to maintain in the mind of the +individual the feeling of his dependence upon the society; but viewed +from another aspect the beliefs in question may be regarded as +expressing the social value of the things to which they relate. This +term—social value—will be used repeatedly in the later part of this +chapter, and it is therefore necessary to give an exact definition. By +the social value of anything I mean the way in which that thing affects +or is capable of affecting the social life. Value may be either +positive or negative, positive value being possessed by any thing that +contributes to the well-being of the society, negative value by +anything that can adversely affect that well-being. + +The social value of a thing (such as fire) is a matter of immediate +experience to every member of the society, but the individual does not +of necessity consciously and directly realise that value. He is made to +realise it indirectly through the belief, impressed upon him by +tradition, that the thing in question affords protection against +danger. A belief or sentiment which finds regular outlet in action is a +very different thing from a belief which rarely or never influences +conduct. Thus, though the Andaman Islander might have a vague +realisation of the value of Hibiscus, for example, that would be +something very different from the result on the mind of the individual +of the regular use of the leaves of that tree in initiation ceremonies +as a protection against unseen dangers. So that the protective uses of +such things are really rites or ceremonies by means of which the +individual is made to realise (1) his own dependence on the society and +its possessions, and (2) the social value of the things in question. + +I have had to postpone to the later parts of the chapter the +consideration of some of the objects possessing protective power, but I +venture to state here three propositions some part of the evidence for +which has already been examined, and which will be sufficiently +demonstrated, I hope, before the end of the chapter. They are as +follows: (1) any object that contributes to the well-being of the +society is believed to afford protection against evil; (2) the degree +of protective power it is believed to possess depends on the importance +of the services it actually renders to the society; (3) the kind of +special protection it is supposed to afford is often related to the +kind of special service that it does actually render. + +We were led to the consideration of the protective power of objects +through an attempt to understand the meaning of the methods of +ornamenting the body in the Andamans. We have seen that some ornaments +are worn in order to express the personal value of the individual, +while others are worn for the sake of the protection they are believed +to afford. We have also seen that one method of painting the body (with +white clay) is a means of expressing the personal value of the painted +individual. We will next consider the use of the clay called odu. This +clay is painted on the body of a mourner and is the outward sign of +mourning; it is used at certain stages of the initiation ceremonies; it +is also regularly used for painting the body with the designs known as +e̱ra-puli. According to the rule of method laid down at the beginning of +the chapter we must seek some common explanation of these different +uses of the same substance. + +We may consider, first of all, the patterns (e̱ra-puli) that are made +with this clay on the body and face after eating certain foods such as +pork and turtle. + +Mr Man gives two explanations of the use of these paintings of clay. +During the hot season, he says, the natives “endeavour to lessen the +discomfort caused by the heat by smearing their bodies with a +white-wash of common white clay and water.” He adds: “it has long been +erroneously believed that they have recourse to this expedient in order +to allay the inconvenience which they would otherwise suffer from the +bites of mosquitoes and other jungle pests; but the true reason for the +practice is, I am well assured, that which I have given above [169].” +In another place he says: “After eating pork or turtle they are in the +habit of smearing og over their bodies with their fingers, in the +belief that it affects their breath, and that evil spirits will be +unable to detect, and therefore will not be attracted to, them by the +savoury smell of the food of which they have partaken. Again, when +heated by travelling or by hunting or dancing, they have recourse to +the same wash, but in these cases it is applied thinly [170].” + +There are here two explanations of fundamentally different character. +First the Andamanese practice of painting their bodies with clay is +explained as having a purely utilitarian purpose, being intended to +cool them when they are heated. In the second statement the explanation +given is that the custom is intended to protect them from danger. + +My own observations do not altogether agree with the statements of Mr +Man. I found that the natives painted themselves just as much in the +cold season as in the hot season. The principal, if not the sole, +occasion on which the clay is used is after or immediately before a +meal, and therefore generally in the late afternoon or evening when the +heat of the day is past. I do not feel so satisfied as Mr Man appears +to be, that the clay really has the effect of keeping a person cool, +particularly when it is remembered that the painting may consist of a +few lines each as broad as a finger. Moreover, Mr Man’s explanation +does not afford any reason for the fact that the clay is always applied +in some sort of pattern. If it were merely to keep himself cool, we +should expect to see a man cover himself all over with a plain coating +evenly spread over the body. Such an even coating is never used, in the +Great Andaman tribes, except by persons mourning for the dead, and is +the essential mark of a mourner. + +It is easy to explain how Mr Man has fallen into an error in this +matter. On many occasions, when I questioned the natives as to their +reason for painting themselves with clay I received the answer, “When +we have eaten pork or turtle or dugong, we become ot-kimil and so we +take clay and paint ourselves.” Now the word ot-kimil in the Aka-J̌eru +language is the word that the natives use to express what we mean by +the word “hot.” But while “hot” may always be translated by ot-kimil or +er-kimil, the latter word cannot always be adequately rendered in +English by the word “hot.” Mr Man seems to have supposed that when an +Andaman Islander says “hot” he means by the word only what we mean, +whereas he really means a great deal more. + +Let us examine briefly the word in question. In the languages of the +North Andaman the stem is -kimil. With the prefix ot- or er- it is used +to mean “hot” as in T’ot-kimil-bom, “I am hot,” or Ino ot-kimil bi or +Ino er-kimil bi, “The water is hot.” Used by itself the stem kimil is +the name of the latter part of the rainy season, when the weather is +not hot but cool. A youth or girl who is passing through the initiation +ceremonies is said to be aka-kimil, and is addressed or spoken of as +Kimil, instead of by his or her proper name. The turtle-eating ceremony +is called čokbi-kimil, or čokbi-ǰo or kimil-ǰo, čokbi meaning “turtle” +and ǰo meaning “eating.” The word “hot” is used by the natives in +several unusual ways when they are talking their own language or +Hindustani. Thus a stormy or rough sea is said to be “hot,” and one +native in describing to me (in Hindustani) the cessation of a cyclone +said “the sea became cold.” A person who is ill is said to be hot, and +getting well is expressed by the phrase “getting cool.” + +In the Aka-Bea language the word “hot” is translated by Mr Portman by +the stem uya. The stem kimil appears in the form gumul in only some of +the uses it has in the Northern languages. Gumul is the name of the +latter part of the rainy season. A youth passing through the initiation +ceremonies is said to be aka-gumul and is addressed or spoken of as +Guma. The turtle-eating ceremony is called gumul-le-ke, le-ke meaning +“eating.” The word thus means “the gumul eating” and is the literal +equivalent of the kimil-ǰo of the North. + +The uses of the word kimil may be summarised as follows: + +(1) to mean “hot” in the sense of the English word; + +(2) in connection with illness; + +(3) in speaking of stormy weather; + +(4) as the name of the latter part of the rainy season; + +(5) to denote the condition of a youth or girl who is passing through +or has recently passed through the initiation ceremonies, and to denote +the ceremonies themselves; + +(6) to denote a condition in a person consequent on eating certain +foods, and perhaps sometimes due to other causes, to remedy or obviate +which the natives make use of clay painted in patterns on their bodies. + +It is probable, then, that when a native says that after eating food he +is ot-kimil and therefore paints himself with clay he does not mean +simply that he is hot. This will be still more evident when we consider +the second explanation of the custom that is given by the natives. Many +of those whom I questioned stated that after eating dugong, pork, +turtle, etc., the body emits an odour, that this odour may attract the +spirits of the jungle or the sea, and that to obviate this they paint +themselves with clay. This agrees exactly with what Mr Man says in the +second passage quoted above. It is confirmed by other customs. I was +told that a man who has eaten dugong will not leave the camp until some +time after the dugong meat is all finished, for fear that the spirits +may smell him and do him harm. It is to be noted in passing that +painting the body with clay does not by any means remove the odour that +does actually characterise a native after he has been eating fat meat +of any kind. We must be careful, in this instance also, not to assume +that an Andaman Islander means by “smell” exactly what we mean by it +and nothing more. It will be shown later in the chapter that the +Andamanese identify the smell of an object with its active magical +principle. One example may be given here to show this. The origin of +rheumatism in the legs is explained by the natives as being the result +of the common practice of preparing the fibre of the Anadendron +paniculatum by scraping it on the thigh. During this process, they say, +the “smell” of the plant enters the thigh and is the cause of rheumatic +or sciatic pains. + +The natives give yet a third statement of their reasons for using clay. +On many occasions I asked them what would happen if they ate pork or +turtle and did not paint themselves. In every case I received the reply +that any man who did such a thing would almost certainly be ill. + +When a number of persons give three different reasons for one and the +same action, and are equally sincere throughout, it is to be presumed +that the three different statements are so many different ways of +saying one and the same thing. We may therefore conclude that the +Andaman Islanders believe that there is a peculiar power in foods (or +in some foods) which makes it dangerous to eat them. This danger may be +expressed by saying that the person who has eaten food will, unless he +takes certain precautions, be liable to be ill. Now sickness is +believed to be caused by the spirits of the jungle and the sea, and +therefore an alternative or equivalent statement of the same belief is +that after a person has eaten food he is in danger from the spirits. We +may therefore conclude that the word ot-kimil, when it is used to +describe the condition of a person who has eaten food, denotes simply +this condition of danger, and nothing more. For this we shall find +ample confirmation later on. Subject to such later confirmation I will +here state what has been maintained, which is (1) that the e̱ra-puli +patterns are to be explained as being protective, (2) that the eating +of food is regarded as dangerous, and (3) that this danger is +associated in the minds of the natives with sickness and with the +spirits. It will be convenient to leave the first of these three +propositions for later discussion and take up the second, seeking to +find the meaning of this belief in the dangerous properties of food. + +Not all foods are equally dangerous. I was able to establish roughly a +sort of scale. The most dangerous foods are dugong; the fish called +komar; some of the snakes; the internal fat such as the kidney-fat or +the intestinal fat of pig, turtle, monitor lizard and Paradoxurus; the +liver of sharks, sting-rays and Plotosus; and honey. Next in order come +the flesh of pigs, turtle, monitor lizard and Paradoxurus and of the +fishes mentioned above; also the eggs of turtle. To these should +perhaps be added the edible grubs and some vegetable foods such as the +yams and the Artocarpus fruit and seed. Lowest in the scale, that is, +least dangerous, are molluscs and the commoner sorts of fish and +vegetable foods. + +The principles underlying this grading of foods are two. Those foods +that are difficult or dangerous to procure are considered more +dangerous than others. Thus all the fishes that are thought most +dangerous to eat are actually dangerous, such as the sharks, the +sting-rays, the armed Plotosus, and the fish komar that has a powerful +spike on its head with which it can inflict a dangerous wound. Secondly +the foods that are most prized are regarded as being more dangerous +than those that are less prized. The internal fat of animals is +regarded as a great delicacy and therefore occupies a high place in the +scale. It is this also that explains the position of honey and of the +edible grubs. The dugong, which is of all foods the most difficult and +dangerous to procure, and is at the same time more highly prized than +any other, is regarded as more dangerous to eat than any other. + +It is this difference in the danger attributed to different foods that +gives the clue to the explanation of the beliefs relating to them. The +hypothesis I wish to put forward is that the custom of painting the +body after eating food is an expression of the social value of food. + +In a simple community such as that of the Andaman Islands, in which the +necessary food has to be provided from day to day, food occupies a +predominant position, and is the chief source of those variations or +oscillations between conditions of euphoria and dysphoria that +constitute the emotional life of the society. Food is obtainable only +by the expenditure of effort, and the effort is a communal one. The +obtaining of food is the principal social activity and it is an +activity in which every able-bodied member of the community is required +by custom to join. A man’s first duty to the society may be defined as +the duty of providing food for himself and others, and no one is looked +on with more contempt than one who is lazy or careless in this respect. +On the contrary the man who stands highest in the esteem of others is +the skilful hunter who is generous in distributing to others the food +he obtains. The food provides the community with its chief joys and +sorrows. When food is scarce the whole community suffers. The men spend +all their time in hunting but are disappointed. They have to fall back +upon foods that are little relished, such as the commoner kinds of +molluscs. On the contrary when there is plenty of food the whole +society rejoices together. Every one has as much as he or she can eat. +Hunting and fishing become pleasant sports instead of arduous labour. + +Viewing the matter from its relation to the feelings of the individual +we may say that it is particularly in connection with food that he is +made to feel that he is a member of the community, sharing with others +their joys and sorrows, taking part in a common activity, often +dependent upon others for the satisfaction of his hunger, and obliged +by custom to share with those others what he himself obtains. Thus food +is, for the Andaman Islander, the one object above all others that +serves to awaken in him day after day the feeling of his relation to +his fellows. It is also the source of a very large proportion of his +joys and sorrows, his excitements and disappointments. Thus it is that +when the natives wish to amuse each other it is by tales of hunting +that they do so, and a large proportion of their songs relate to the +getting of food. + +It is thus clear that food becomes an important secondary object of the +fundamental affective dispositions that regulate the emotional attitude +of the individual to the society to which he belongs. It is connected +very closely with the feeling of moral obligation; the most valued +moral qualities in the Andaman Islands are energy in providing food and +generosity in distributing it; among the worst faults are laziness in +hunting and meanness in giving to others. Similarly food is closely +associated with the feeling of dependence. During childhood, +particularly, the individual has to depend on others for his food; even +later in life the food that a man eats is more often provided by others +than by himself; he depends on the community even for his daily +nourishment. + +Different foods have different social values. Thus a dugong provides a +large supply of a highly-prized delicacy, but on the other hand can +only be obtained by strenuous and dangerous efforts of skilful hunters. +At the other end of the scale the social value of shell-fish is very +little. They are not relished and are only eaten when there is nothing +better, while the labour of obtaining them is simply one of drudgery +requiring little skill. + +Finally it must be pointed out that the value of food is both positive +and negative. It is the source of conditions of social euphoria when it +is plentiful; while it is equally the source of social dysphoria when +it is lacking. In other words, on different occasions it is the source +of both pleasurable and painful states of the fundamental social +sentiments. + +All these experiences connected with food organise themselves around +the notion that foods, or the animals that are used for food, are +things to be treated carefully, with respect, or, in other words, with +ritual precautions. The sense of the social value of food reveals +itself as a belief that food may be a source of danger unless it is +approached with circumspection, and this belief, translated into +action, gives rise to the rite of painting the body after eating. This +does not mean that when the Andaman Islander eats turtle he is actually +in a state of fear; he feels that he would have reason to be afraid if +it were not that the society has provided him with a means of avoiding +the dangers of turtle eating. What he does feel, then, as I have tried +to show, is not a fear of food but a sense of the value of food. + +This interpretation will, I hope, be amply justified later, and the +psychological processes assumed by it will be further illustrated. One +point needs to be emphasised here, namely that the suggested +interpretation affords, as no other would seem to do, an explanation of +the fact that some foods are believed to be more dangerous than others, +and that while it is obligatory to paint the body after eating the more +dangerous foods, it is not necessary to do so after eating those that +are less dangerous. If the rite is simply the expression of the social +value of foods, it will follow that different food substances, having +different social values, must be subject to differences in ritual +treatment. + +There are a few other customs connected with food, recorded in an +earlier chapter, which show that in general food is regarded as +something that may only be approached with ritual precautions. A turtle +must be killed with its head towards the open sea, and must be cut up +in one particular way, otherwise the meat would be “bad.” A pig must +also be cut up in a particular way, and must be stuffed with certain +leaves before it is roasted. A man will not eat certain foods when he +is away from his own country, as he is afraid that to do so might make +him ill. (This corresponds to the belief that there is less chance of +illness in one’s own country than away from it, and that the spirits of +a strange place are more dangerous than those that haunt the jungles +and the waters of a man’s own home.) All these customs, I believe, are +so many different expressions of the social value of food. + +I have maintained earlier in the chapter that the sense of the social +value of such things as fire and the materials used for weapons +translates itself into the belief that these things afford protection +against danger. This would seem, at first sight, to be contradicted by +the explanation that I have just given of the belief in the danger of +food. The apparent contradiction must be faced and resolved before we +can proceed further. + +First, it can be shown that the various things that are regarded as +affording protection when used according to custom, are also believed +to be dangerous, just in the same way that food is dangerous. One +example of this will suffice. The fibre of the Anadendron paniculatum, +which is used for bow-strings and other purposes, has been shown to +possess a power which gives it efficacy against dangers of the sea such +as sharks. This same power, however, may have injurious effects if the +plant is handled without proper precautions. Thus, if a piece of the +green creeper, or a person who has recently been handling it, should be +in a canoe, it would be impossible to capture turtle from that canoe, +as they would be driven away by the “smell” of the plant. If a piece of +the creeper were burnt in the fire there would be a great storm, +according to one statement, or all the turtle would be driven away from +the vicinity, according to another. The handling of the plant in the +preparation of the fibre, by scraping it on the thigh, is believed to +be the cause of rheumatism. Turtle meat that might by accident come in +contact with the plant would be dangerous and would therefore not be +eaten. These different beliefs show us that while this plant possesses +powers that make it of service to the society, both directly as a +material for weapons, and indirectly as a magical protection against +evil, it is also dangerous, i.e. it will produce undesirable effects +unless treated with the proper ritual precautions. + +Now just as materials such as the Anadendron are dangerous but may yet +be used protectively, so it can be shown that the things used for food +are also capable of affording protection against evil. It may be +recalled that an important element of the treatment of sickness is by +the use of special foods. Yams, honey, the fat of turtle and dugong and +other foods are believed to possess curative properties. The flesh of +the flying-fox is used as a remedy for rheumatism. But the clearest +evidence is provided by the custom of wearing ornaments made of the +bones of animals that have been eaten. These ornaments are believed to +possess protective powers of the same kind as those attributed to human +bones, but they are considered to be more particularly of value to the +hunter when he is in the forest or on the sea. They are made chiefly +from the bones of those animals that are believed to be most dangerous +to eat. These animals are difficult and often dangerous to capture or +kill. When obtained they become very important sources of well-being to +the society. The Andamanese express their sense of the social value of +these animals in the belief that it is necessary to adopt certain +measures of ritual precaution in dealing with them. When these due +precautions are taken, however, then the society is able to make use of +the flesh to serve its own ends. So, when an animal has been eaten, and +has thus been made to serve as a source of advantage, of strength, the +bones, which are the permanent remains of the feast, acquire a symbolic +value as evidence of past social well-being, and omens of future +security. They are a visible proof of the ability of the society to +protect itself and its members from the dangers that are believed to +threaten the human being in the most important activity of his life, +the obtaining and eating of food. + +Formerly the Andamanese preserved the skulls of all large animals such +as pigs, turtle and dugong. At the present day they no longer preserve +the skulls of pigs, giving as their reason that owing to the dogs +obtained from Europeans they now have little difficulty in killing +pigs; but they still preserve the skulls of dugongs, and a fair +proportion of the skulls of turtle. The J̌a̤rawa still seem to preserve +with great care the skulls of all the pigs they kill, going to the +pains of enclosing each one in a case of basket-work. These skulls, we +must conclude, are more than mere trophies of the chase. As visible +proofs of the ability of the society in the past to overcome the +hostile powers of nature, they form, as it were, the guarantee of a +similar ability in the future, and I believe that their preservation is +regarded as a means of ensuring success in hunting as well as +protection for the hunters. The turtle skulls that are often suspended +under the forward platform of a canoe, are, I believe, intended both to +protect the occupants of the canoe from the dangers of the sea and to +help them to obtain a good catch. + +The Andamanese belief in the power of the bones of animals to protect +them from danger and to bring them luck, is therefore very similar to +their belief in the protective power of the materials used for weapons +and implements. The consideration of the apparent contradiction +mentioned above has led us to a more exact statement of the real +beliefs in these matters. They believe, we may say, that all the things +from the jungle and the sea of which they make use as food or as +materials, are dangerous unless approached with proper ritual +precautions, but when so approached they become sources of strength and +well-being and also of protection from unseen dangers. + +To return to the main argument, which was concerned with the meaning of +the patterns of clay painted on the body after eating the more +dangerous foods, it would seem that this action is really a rite or +ceremony, of the same general character as other ceremonial customs of +the Andamans. It is an action required by custom, the performance of +which on appropriate occasions serves to keep alive in the mind of the +individual a certain system of sentiments necessary for the regulation +of conduct in conformity to the needs of the society. By it the +individual is made to feel (or to act as though he felt) that his life +is one of continually repeated dangers from which he can only be +preserved by conforming to the customs of the society as they have been +handed down by tradition. He is made to feel that the eating of food is +not merely the satisfaction of an animal appetite, but an act of +communion, that the food itself is something “sacred” (if we may use +that word in the sense of the original Latin “sacer”). It serves also, +like any other rite in which all join, to make the individual feel the +solidarity and unity of the community; all share in the common repast +and the common danger, and each man sees on his neighbour the clay with +which he himself is daubed. + +Of course it is probable that the Andamanese custom of painting the +body after eating, like our own grace before and after meat, with which +it is parallel, tends to become a formality accompanied by little real +feeling, but it can be shown, I believe, that such customs do possess a +real value—a real psychological function—in keeping alive ideas and +sentiments that will on occasion play an important part in influencing +conduct. + +We have not yet completed the study of the Andamanese beliefs about +food. To do so we must examine the initiation ceremonies. I hope to +show that these ceremonies are the means by which the society +powerfully impresses upon the initiate the sense of the social value of +food, and keeps the same sense alive in the minds of the spectators of +the ceremony. + +The position in the social life occupied by a child is different from +that of an adult; the child is dependent upon and closely united to his +parents, and is not an independent member of the community. To this +difference in social position there corresponds a difference in the +attitude of a person towards a child and towards an adult, and also a +difference in the attitude of a child and that of an adult towards the +society. As the child grows up a change takes place in his position in +the social life, and this must be accompanied by a change in the +emotional dispositions of the child himself in so far as these regulate +his attitude towards the society, and by a change in the attitude +towards the child of the other members of the group. The initiation +ceremonies are the means by which these changes are brought about, and +by which, therefore, the child is made an independent member of the +society. + +The ceremonies have two aspects according as we regard them from the +point of view of the society or from that of the initiate. For the +society they are to be described as the recognition of the change of +status of the initiate, just as the marriage ceremony is the social +recognition of the change of status by marriage. For the initiate they +constitute a sort of moral or social education. + +To fit a child for his proper place in the community he needs to be +educated. Part of the process consists of learning how to hunt, how to +make bows and arrows, and so on. This necessary knowledge he acquires +gradually by imitation of his elders, in which he is guided and +encouraged by them. But in addition to this he has to acquire those +sentiments or emotional dispositions which regulate the conduct of +members of the society and constitute morality. Part of this education +in morality, this education of the sentiments, takes place gradually as +the child grows up, less by any actual instruction than by processes of +imitation and suggestion; but in this connection an extremely important +part is played by the initiation ceremonies. That the long series of +abstentions and ceremonies does have a very powerful emotional effect +on the youth or girl may be readily observed by an eye-witness; that +their permanent effect is to create in his or her mind a number of +sentiments that previously existed not at all or only in an undeveloped +condition will be shown in the course of the present argument. + +Since in the life of the Andamans by far the most important social +activity is the getting of food, and it is in connection with food that +the social sentiments are most frequently called into action, it is +therefore appropriate that it should be through his relation to food +that the child should be taught his relation to the society, and thus +have those sentiments implanted in him or brought to the necessary +degree of strength. During his infancy the child is almost entirely +unrestrained and acts with great comparative freedom. He does not +realise, in any adequate manner, that the food with which he is freely +provided (for children are the last to suffer hunger) is only obtained +by skill and effort, nor does he realise that he will one day be +required to labour to supply food for others. There follows a period of +restraint, during which the growing boy or girl has to give up eating +certain relished foods, and has to pass through a number of ceremonies, +some of them painful, and all solemn and awe-inspiring. These +restraints on the action of the individual are not imposed by one +person, but by the whole society backed by the whole force of +tradition. Through a series of years, just at what is, for +physiological reasons, the most impressionable age, the individual +learns to subordinate his own desires to the requirements of the +society or of custom, as explained to him by his elders. He is thus +impressed, in a forcible manner, with the importance of the moral law, +and at the same time he is impressed with a sense of the social value +of food. The ceremonies thus afford a moral education adapted to the +requirements of life as it is lived in the Andamans. It would need a +very lengthy analysis to show all the effects of the ceremonies on the +emotional life of those who undergo them, and for the purpose of this +chapter such an analysis is unnecessary. It will suffice merely to +mention a few of the more important. As stated above, the ceremonies +teach the boy or girl self-control or self-restraint, and they do so in +relation to one of the two fundamental human instincts,—hunger. The +cutting of the boy’s back in the North Andaman gives a still sharper +lesson in self-control in the endurance of pain. Secondly the +ceremonies teach the initiate, for the first time in life, to view life +and its duties and obligations seriously. The various ceremonies are +all very solemn affairs for the initiate. Again, the growing boy or +girl is made to feel very strongly the importance of conforming to the +customs of the community to which he belongs, thus having implanted in +his mind what is certainly one of the most powerful of the sentiments +that regulate conduct in the Andamans. In this connection there may +also be mentioned the respect for elders which is a most important +element in the regulation of social life in all savage communities, and +which is strongly impressed on the initiate throughout the ceremonies. +And yet again, the ceremonies awaken and develop in the adolescent that +fear of unseen danger which, as we shall see later, has a very +important place in the mental life of the Andamanese and an important +function in their moral life. Finally, the whole series of abstentions +and ceremonies serves to develop in the mind of every new member of the +society that sense of the social value of foods with which our argument +has been concerned, which may be briefly described as being a +realisation that food is a possession of the society, that not only the +power to obtain food, but also the power to use it without danger is +something that the individual owes to the society, and that the +bestowal upon him of this power involves the acceptance on his part of +corresponding obligations. + +We may say, to look at the matter under another aspect, that the +initiation ceremonies teach the youth or girl to realise what is +implied in being a member of the society by putting him or her during +the period of adolescence in an exceptional position, and, as it were, +outside the society. The youth is no longer a child and may not act as +a child; but he is not yet an adult and may not act as adults do. He +feels himself cut off, as it were, from the ordinary life of the group, +having as yet no share in it. As a child he was not yet aware of what +it means to be a member of a society, but now, by means of the +ceremonies, his attention is directed to the society and its life, by +his being placed in a position of isolation outside it. He begins to +look forward to the time when he will take his proper place as an +adult, and his share in the common life of the camp. At each step of +the ceremonies he feels that he is brought a little closer, until at +last he can feel himself a man amongst men. Thus he is brought to a +consciousness of all that it must mean to him to be a member of the +community; he is taught the significance and value of social communion. + +Since the greater part of social life is the getting and eating of +food, to place a person outside the social life would be to forbid him +from partaking of the food that is obtained by the society and consumed +by it. This, however, would result in his starvation. The same object +is attained, however, by making the initiate abstain for a period from +a number of the most important and relished foods, and then making him +abstain for a second period from the others. This is not the only way +however in which the initiate is cut off from social communion. A youth +or girl who is aka-op is not permitted to dance, nor to be decorated +with red paint and white clay. It is in the dance that the community +expresses most completely its own unity. Being forbidden to join in the +dance is therefore to be excluded from the common life. Painting the +body with red paint and white clay is, as we have seen, a way of +expressing that the individual is aware of his own position as a member +of the group having the approval and good-will of his fellows. Thus +these other prohibitions reinforce and supplement the prohibition +against eating certain foods during the period of adolescence, and the +consideration of them serves to confirm the interpretation just given. +I believe that the aka-op is also forbidden to use odu clay as a sign +of mourning, and if this be so it is of considerable significance, as +will be evident after we have considered the meaning of this use of +clay. Unfortunately I am not quite sure of the facts, and so the point +must be left. + +To discuss in detail all the features of these ceremonies would take +much space. I propose therefore to take as typical of the others the +ceremony of turtle-eating and to explain its various features. When +this ceremony is performed the youth has been compelled for many months +to abstain from eating turtle, and has thus learnt to realise the +social value of food in general and of turtle in particular. He is now +to have the same lesson impressed upon him in a different way. The +previous part of his education has been the continuous action over a +long period of a not very powerful emotion. He has had to sit quietly +while others regaled themselves with turtle meat and to be satisfied +with less tasty food. At times he has probably gone hungry because the +only food in camp was of kinds that were forbidden to him. The ceremony +he is now to go through acts by producing in the space of a few days a +very intense emotional experience. We have seen that the sense of the +social value of food takes the form of a belief that food is dangerous +to eat, and that its dangers may only be avoided by ritual precautions. +At the turtle-eating ceremony the initiate is eating turtle for the +first time as an adult, and is therefore exposed to great danger which +makes it necessary to guard him with every possible ritual precaution. +This, at any rate, is what the initiate himself is made to feel, and it +is through this that the ceremony has its emotional effects. The +initiate is not, of course, himself possessed by a simple feeling of +fear, though the emotional state of his mind is built up on the basis +of the fear instinct. What he is about to do is a matter of great +danger to himself, but at the same time the precautions that are to be +taken are such as entirely to remedy that danger if they are properly +observed. Thus what he experiences is an intense feeling of the +importance and solemnity of the ritual in which he is to take part. + +All the details of the ceremony are readily to be explained as so many +different ways of warding off the danger that threatens the initiate. +He is seated on leaves of the Hibiscus tiliaceus, which, as we have +seen, possess special efficacy against dangers connected with turtle. +Leaves of the same kind are placed under his arms so as to cover his +belly, where, we may suppose, the danger is most intense. A fire is +placed near him, between him and the open sea. It has already been +shown that fire is believed to afford protection against dangers of +this sort, and the appropriateness of the position is due to the fact +that in this instance it is from the sea and the things of the sea that +danger is to be feared. He may not feed himself with his fingers, but +must use a skewer of Hibiscus wood. This is clearly only one more +precaution against danger, though the ideas connected with it are +somewhat obscure. At the beginning of the ceremony the initiate is fed +with turtle by a man who conducts the ceremony and who represents the +society, that latter fact being sometimes symbolised by his wearing +round his shoulders a bark sling such as is used for carrying children. +This means, I think, that it is the society that “gives” the food to +the initiate, giving him at the same time the power to use it with +safety. The older man hands on to the younger the right and the power +to eat which he himself possesses. He makes himself responsible, as it +were, for the action of the initiate. At one stage of the performance +the initiate is rubbed over with red ochre. This is to be understood by +recalling that red ochre and red paint are regarded by the natives as +valuable remedies against sickness and against the spirits that cause +sickness. Immediately afterwards the body of the initiate is spattered +with odu clay. The use of this clay after eating food was explained as +a method of avoiding the dangers supposed to result from eating such +foods as turtle. It is clear that exactly the same explanation will +apply to its use in the initiation ceremonies. I have not found a +satisfactory explanation of the peculiar manner in which it is applied. +That the youth is not allowed to sleep for the first two days of the +ceremony will be explained later in the chapter, when it will be shown +that sleep itself is regarded as a condition of danger. + +A notable incident is that at the beginning of the ceremony the female +relatives of the initiate are required by custom to come and weep over +him. An explanation of this has already been given, but may well be +repeated. At each stage of the initiation ceremonies the initiate is +withdrawn from the position of dependence that the child necessarily +occupies, and as children are, for the most part, under the care of +their elder female relatives, the ceremonies result in a partial +destruction of those bonds that unite the initiate to his mother or his +foster-mother and her sisters or to his own elder sisters. The weeping +of the female relatives is as it were a reaction against this lessening +of solidarity. It is evident why the rite is necessarily one-sided. The +female relatives need to feel that they are not being entirely cut off +from the initiate, and so they affirm their attachment to him by +weeping over him. On the other hand the important thing for the +initiate himself is to feel that the bonds that united him as a child +to the women who cared for him are now severed or modified; he must no +longer depend on them but must learn to depend on himself; hence it is +necessary that he should not weep but should remain passive and as it +were indifferent under the tears that are shed over him. + +The last part of the ceremony consists of a dance, in which the youth +dances in the middle surrounded by a ring of men. As we have seen that +dancing is in general an affirmation of solidarity between those taking +part, and an expression of the unity of the society, we may well regard +this dance as an affirmation of the solidarity that now exists between +the youth and the other dancers, who are representatives of the society +of adults. There is something more in the dance than this however. I +pointed out that one of the results of taking part in a dance is to +produce in the individual an experience of increased personal force, +and it is obvious that this is a very appropriate feeling for the +initiate who, by his long abstention from turtle, and by the ceremony +he has just been through, has acquired an increase of personal force, +an addition to his social personality. Before the dance the initiate is +decorated with white clay (the snake pattern) and red paint. I have +explained this particular method of painting the body as being a means +of expressing and so producing or reinforcing the feeling of elation +accompanying the recognition by an individual of his own social value, +of the fact that he has deserved and obtained the good-will and regard +of his fellows. The youth who has been through the period of restraint +and the ordeal of the ceremony has done his duty and has earned the +approbation of his friends. It is for this reason that he alone of the +dancers is decorated with the painting that serves to express or arouse +the elation or self-satisfaction that it is right for him to feel. The +painting is the mark of the increase in social value of the initiate +brought about by the turtle-eating ceremony. + +There is one aspect of the dance that may be mentioned as being of +importance, and which will be referred to again later, namely that the +movements seem to be in a way imitative of the movements of turtle in +the water. The leaves used in the dance are those that possess magical +efficacy against dangers from turtle. + +I have not been able to satisfy myself as to the meaning of the belt +and necklace of Pothos scandens worn by the initiate in the dance and +for some days afterwards. It is probable that the clue to this lies in +the resemblance of the leaves to the shape of a phallus, but I have no +clear evidence that this is the real explanation, and therefore offer +it as merely a surmise. + +If the natives be asked the reason for these ceremonies they often +reply that their purpose is to make the youth or girl grow up strong. +By this word “strong” they seem to mean in the first instance +able-bodied, skilful (in hunting, etc.) and above all able to avoid or +resist disease. They believe that anyone who did not pass through the +ceremonies would be certain to die at an early age, and they recall the +instance of one young man who refused to submit to the ceremonies who +died before reaching maturity. Now, since the danger that they fear in +eating food is said to be sickness, we may translate their statement +into other terms by saying that the purpose of the initiation +ceremonies is to endow the initiate with the power to eat the dangerous +foods with comparative safety. + +It would seem that an infant, being completely dependent upon his +parents, is protected by that dependence from the danger of foods, but +the adult is only able to make use of food with safety by reason of the +possession within himself of a special power with which it is the +purpose of the initiation ceremonies to endow him. Each kind of food +has its own kind of dangerous power, and therefore every individual +needs to be endowed with the special power to avoid each kind of +danger. For this reason there is a separate ceremony for each of the +important kinds of food. Thus we see very clearly that, for the +Andamanese, food, or the power to make use of food without danger, is +essentially a possession of the society, and one function of the +initiation ceremonies is to keep alive this sentiment. + +But there is a further meaning, I think, lying behind the statement +that the initiation ceremonies endow the youth or girl with strength. I +have already argued that all the most important social sentiments are +closely associated with the sense of the social value of food, and +although the initiation ceremonies are chiefly concerned with food, +that is only because that is the easiest way by which to get at the +main system of social sentiments. So that behind the special meaning of +the ceremonies with relation to food we must look for a more general +meaning in relation to the social life in general. This may be +conveniently stated by saying that the purpose of the ceremonies is to +endow the individual with a social personality. By the social +personality of a person I mean the sum of those qualities by which he +is able to affect the society. It is, in other words, what gives him +his social value. The social personality depends in the first place on +the social status of the individual. A young child seems to be regarded +as having no social personality. He is not an independent member of the +society, and therefore has no immediate social value, no direct effect +on the general social life. At any rate the social personality of a +child is something very different from that of an adult. So, since the +initiation ceremonies provide the passage from childhood to manhood or +womanhood we may describe them as the means by which the society endows +the child with an adult social personality. + +But the social personality of an individual also depends on his +personal qualities, his strength and intelligence, his skill as a +hunter, and on his moral qualities, whether he is mean or generous, +quarrelsome or good-tempered, and so on, for all these things help to +determine the place he occupies in the social life and the effects he +has upon it. Above all, the social personality depends upon the +development in the individual of those sentiments by which the social +life is regulated and by which the social cohesion is preserved. Now we +have seen that the initiation ceremonies do serve to develop these +sentiments in the mind of the initiate, and we may therefore say that +in this respect also it is true that the initiation ceremonies serve to +develop in the child the social personality of an adult. + +The consideration of the initiation ceremonies has served to confirm +the hypothesis that the Andamanese customs relating to food are all of +them different modes of expressing the social value of foods. We have +now to consider the nature of the dangers that are supposed to accrue +from the eating of food if due precautions be not taken. One statement +of the natives is that the danger they fear is sickness. Now sickness +of all kinds is believed by the Andamanese to be caused by certain +supernatural beings called Lau or Čauga,—the spirits of the dead; and +further, we have seen that the danger connected with food is sometimes +said to be the danger of an attack by the spirits. So that it is +evident that to understand the meaning of the fear of foods it is first +of all necessary to understand the notions they have about the spirits, +and to do this we shall have to consider the various customs relating +to death and burial. + +For the society a death is the loss of one of its members, one of its +constituent parts. A person occupies a definite position in society, +has a certain share in the social life, is one of the supports of the +network of social relations. His death constitutes a partial +destruction of the social cohesion, the normal social life is +disorganised, the social equilibrium is disturbed. After the death the +society has to organise itself anew and reach a new condition of +equilibrium. In reference to the small community of the Andamans we may +translate the above statement into terms of personal feeling by saying +that the death removes a person who was the object of feelings of +affection and attachment on the part of others and is thus a direct +offence against those sentiments in the survivors. + +Though the dead man has ceased to exist as a member of the society, it +is clear that he has by no means ceased to influence the society. On +the contrary he has become the source of intense painful emotions. +Where the affection that was felt towards him was previously a source +of pleasure it now becomes a source of pain. Defining the “social +personality” of an individual as being the sum of characteristics by +which he has an effect upon the social life and therefore on the social +sentiments of others, we may say that by death the social personality +is not annihilated but undergoes a profound change, so that from being +an object of pleasurable states of the social sentiments it becomes an +object of painful states. This is expressed by the Andamanese by saying +that by death a man or woman becomes a Lau. + +The burial customs of the Andaman Islanders, however, are not to be +regarded as simply the expression of natural personal feeling. They are +a collective and ritual expression of a collective feeling. This is +evident from the fact that they are regulated in every detail by +custom. It is the duty of the relatives and friends to mourn, whether +they feel sorrow or not, and it is equally their duty to mourn only for +a certain period. + +The cohesion of a social group, by which is maintained its existence as +a group, depends directly on the existence of a collective system of +sentiments or affective dispositions that bind every member to every +other. The death, or removal by any other means, of a member of the +group is a direct attack against these sentiments. Now whenever a +sentiment of any kind is subjected to an attack of such a kind as this +there are only two possible alternatives; either the sentiment must +suffer a diminution of its intrinsic energy, and thus be less capable +of controlling behaviour in the future; or it must find an outlet in an +expressive action of some sort which serves as a reaction of defence or +compensation and restores the sentiment to its former condition of +strength. The typical example of such an emotional reaction is anger; +anything that wounds our self-regarding feelings arouses our anger; if +it did not do so those feelings would gradually weaken. This law holds +true of collective sentiments as well as of individual sentiments. If +the society permitted its solidarity to be attacked, whether by death +or by any other means, without reacting in such a way as to give relief +to wounded social feelings and so to reinstate them in their former +condition, these sentiments would lose their strength and the society +its cohesion. The burial customs of the Andamanese are to be explained, +I believe, as a collective reaction against the attack on the +collective feeling of solidarity constituted by the death of a member +of the social group. + +The man being dead, the first thing that the society does is to sever +its connection with him, and the first step in this process is to get +rid of the body by burying it or placing it in a tree, to abandon the +camp at which he died, and temporarily to drop the use of his name. It +is often supposed that customs such as these, which are found in many +primitive societies, are due to the fear of the dead man’s spirit. That +there is an element of fear present is undoubtedly true, but this fear +does not seem to be by any means instinctive, and therefore comparable +to the fear that some animals exhibit towards the dead body of one of +their species. On the contrary the fear itself needs to be explained, +and this will have to be attempted later. + +There is one group of facts which show very clearly that the burial +customs are not solely due to an instinctive fear of dead bodies, +namely that the customs vary according to the social position of the +deceased. A child plays very little part in the general life of the +community; hence on the death of a child the camp is not deserted and +only the parents are subjected to the mourning ritual. Similarly the +death of a person who has for long been so ill as not to be able to +take any important part in social life has very little effect on the +community as a whole; the body of such a one is disposed of with scant +ceremony and mourning is perfunctory. On the other hand the death of a +noted hunter in the prime of life, of a man who is esteemed as a +leader, is a much greater loss; the whole community mourns for him; his +body is placed on a tree instead of in the ground, showing that his +death is regarded as something different from the death of a person who +is interred. The body of a stranger who dies or is killed is not +buried, but is thrown into the sea or cut up and burnt. The explanation +that the natives give of this custom of burning the body is that it +serves to dispel danger that might accrue from the presence of the dead +body of a stranger. The blood and the fat of the dead man, from which +they appear to fear evil influences, are, they say, driven up to the +sky in the smoke of the fire and are thus rendered harmless. + +There is, then, a close correspondence between the manner of burial and +the social value of the person buried, and it is evident that the +differences in the mode of disposing of the body are quite inexplicable +on the assumption that the funeral customs are solely due to the fear +of the dead. + +Before burial the corpse is decorated with white clay and red paint. We +have already seen that this is an expression on the part of the +survivors of their regard for the deceased. A living man or woman is +decorated in this way when, for some special reason, it is desired to +express the fact that he or she has the good-will and regard of others, +and it is applied to the dead body with exactly the same meaning. Fire +and water are placed beside the grave. It is not necessary to suppose +that the Andamanese believe that the spirit of the dead man makes any +use of these, any more than it is necessary for us to believe that the +spirit enjoys the flowers that it is our custom to place upon the +grave. The action in each case is symbolical. + +The dead man was bound by ties of solidarity to those still living. Now +that he is dead those ties have not ceased to exist, but continue until +the society has recovered from the effects of the death, for they are +based on deep-seated and elaborately organised sentiments. I believe +that the mourning customs of the Andamanese are to be explained on this +basis, as being the means by which the social sentiments of the +survivors are slowly reorganised and adapted to the new condition +produced by the death. The severance of the dead man from the society +is not a sudden but a gradual process, during which his relatives and +friends, being still attached to him by social ties, are in an abnormal +condition which may be defined as a partial separation from the world +of living men and women and a partial aggregation to the world of the +dead (i.e. the spirit world). This abnormal condition of the mourner is +shown chiefly in his or her withdrawal from participation in the +ordinary life of the society. We have seen that the eating of food is, +for the Andamanese, one of the most important of social actions, a kind +of communion of the society, and that during the period of adolescence +a youth is separated or withdrawn from the common life of the group by +being forbidden to eat certain foods. So, in strict conformity with the +same set of notions, the mourner is separated from the normal life of +the society by being forbidden to eat pork or turtle, these being the +most important foods that the Andamanese have [171]. Like the aka-op, +also, the mourner is forbidden to take part in a dance, or to decorate +himself with red paint and white clay, for by these actions the Andaman +Islander becomes conscious of his position as a member of a closely +unified group, and it is necessary for the mourner, as for the aka-op, +to feel that for the time being he is cut off from the ordinary life of +the group. The disuse, during the period of mourning, of the name of a +mourner is to be explained, as we shall see more plainly later, on the +same principle, the personal name being what marks the person’s +position in the social life, so that the temporary dropping of the name +shows that for the time being the person is not occupying his normal +social position. + +The distinctive sign of a mourner is the use of clay, which is smeared +over the body and head, and from the name of this clay is derived the +term that denotes a mourner (aka-odu). It is possible to explain this +also as a symbolic expression of the separation of the mourner from the +world of living men and his aggregation to the world of the dead. In +his everyday life the Andaman Islander is black from head to foot. +During mourning he turns himself as nearly as possible white from head +to foot, by covering his body all over with clay. It must be remembered +that the spirits of the dead are said to be white or light in colour. +This is undoubtedly one of the reasons why the (light-coloured) natives +of India are called spirits (Lau), while men of such a dark-coloured +race as the African negroes are not referred to by this term. The use +of clay would therefore seem to serve not only to make the mourner +unlike his ordinary self, but to make him like the spirits of the dead. + +Of course, the natives explain all these customs of mourning as being +expressions of sorrow for their loss, and this is, from the simple +standpoint of everyday life, an adequate and true explanation. From the +standpoint of psychology, however, what we need to know is why the +sorrow is expressed in just these ways and no others. Moreover, the +natives give as a further reason for the mourning customs that if they +did not observe them they would be liable to sickness or even death. + +I have said that the Andamanese believe that by death a man or woman +becomes a Lau, but there is a little uncertainty in the statements of +the natives as to whether he becomes a spirit at once, immediately +after the death, or whether he does so only after the flesh of the body +has decayed. Both statements are sometimes made, but it seems common to +think of the dead person during the period of mourning not as a spirit +(Lau) but as a dead man (empilo). We may best express the ideas of the +natives by saying that the process by which a man becomes a spirit is +one that takes some months to complete, and is only ended when the +bones are dug up. An interesting insight into their notions in this +matter is afforded by a belief, about which unfortunately I have very +scanty information, to the effect that when a man dies he is initiated +into the world of the dead by a ceremony resembling the ceremonies by +which a youth is initiated into manhood. In the statement of an +Aka-Kede informant the ceremony was spoken of by the term kimil, which +is generally used for the initiation ceremonies, and was described as a +po̱ro̱to-kimil, i.e., a ceremony in which the dead man ate po̱ro̱to +(Caryota sobolifera) in just the same way that a youth eats turtle +(čokbi) at the čokbi-kimil. There is independent evidence that there is +a special connection between the spirits of the dead and the Caryota +palm [172]. + +The description of this ceremony (of initiation into the world of the +dead) that was given to me stated that in it the shredded fibre named +ko̱ro was used in just the same way as the leaves of the Hibiscus are +used in the turtle-eating ceremony. Further, as in the peace-making +ceremony men stand against a suspended cane from which depend bunches +of this same ko̱ro, so in the initiation into the spirit world the +initiate has to stand against the rainbow while the dancing spirits +shake it and him. It is this shaking of the rainbow (according to my +informant) that causes earthquakes. It may be recalled that the rainbow +is regarded as a sort of bridge between this world and the spirit +world, and that its name is “the spirit’s cane,” so that it would seem +that it is regarded as like a cane with ko̱ro fibre suspended from it, +such as is used in the peace-making ceremony. + +The explanation of the use of this ko̱ro fibre was postponed earlier in +the chapter, and may well be undertaken here. It serves as a sign that +the spot where it is placed is tabu, or, in more precise terms, that +the spot must be avoided because of the presence there of a force or +power that makes things dangerous. This force is present at the grave +of a dead man, and therefore the fibre is placed at the grave to mark +the fact, while a bunch is similarly suspended at the entrance to a +village that is deserted after a death. In the peace-making ceremony +the members of the one party stand against a suspended cane to which +are attached strips of the fibre. The meaning of this, I think, is that +it thus forbids the members of the other party from attacking them. If +a man were to leave the screen of ko̱ro, he would, I believe, be liable +to be killed by the enemy party; it is only as long as he stands +against it with his arms outstretched that he is safe, because while +there he is tabu. + +How then does this belief in the fibre as a mark of tabu come about? +The fibre is worn by the women of the Little Andaman to cover their +pudenda, and it was formerly worn in this way by the women of the North +Andaman. We may conclude that this was an old element in the Andaman +culture dating back to the remote period when the inhabitants of the +Little Andaman became separated from those of the Great Andaman. Now in +a very special sense the sexual organs of women are tabu, and, without +discussing the matter in detail, we may suppose that the Andaman +Islander regards the genitals of women as a spot in which resides the +same sort of force or power that makes the spirits, or the body of a +dead man, dangerous. One point may be mentioned as throwing light on +this subject, and helping forward the argument, namely that the natives +of the North Andaman often use the expression Lau-buku (meaning +literally “spirit-women” or “female spirits”) to denote women +collectively instead of the phrase that might be expected—n’e-buku. It +would seem that by reason of their sex and the special ideas that are +associated with it, women are regarded as having a very special +relation with the world of spirits. We may conclude that the ko̱ro +fibre, being a convenient material for the purpose, was first used as a +covering for the women, and in this way came to be used as a sign of +tabu in general, or else that for some unknown reason the fibre was +selected as a suitable material to mark any kind of tabu, and so came +to be used both as a covering for women and also as a sign of warning +at the grave and the village that has been visited by death [173]. + +To return from this digression to the question of the initiation of the +dead man into the world of spirits, it is clear that since such +ceremonies take time to accomplish there is a period during which the +dead man is in an indeterminate position; he is no longer a member of +the society of the living, and has not yet become a member of the +society of the dead. As long as he is thus situated his relatives and +friends are still attached to him, so that he still remains as it were +in partial contact with the living. During this time the society is +still suffering the ill effects of the death, and the process of +readjustment by means of the customs of mourning is still taking place. +At the end of it the dead man becomes completely absorbed in the spirit +world, and as a spirit he has no more part in or influence over the +social life than any other spirit, and the mourning is brought to a +close by means of a ceremony. + +This ceremony has two parts. One is the recovery of the bones and their +reaggregation to the society, a rite which we may regard as the final +settling of the dead man in his proper place. All that is left of him, +who was once a source of strength to the community, who had once—as it +is here expressed—a social value, are the bones, his name, and the +memory of him that his friends retain. We may suppose that the bones +still have something of the value that originally attached to their +owner, and indeed it is evident that they have, for after they are +recovered they are affectionately treasured as relics by the relatives. +By the end of the period of mourning the painful feelings aroused by +the death have died down, so that the dead man is now the object only +of memories that are pleasant, or, at the worst, bitter-sweet. The +bones, then, are visible evidences of the fact that the society has +recovered from the disruptive shock of the death, and this is why they +are dug up as soon as the recovery is complete, or rather in order to +complete it, and are thereafter treasured. It should now be clear why +the Andamanese attribute to the bones of dead persons the power to +protect them from unseen dangers. Like the bones of animals that have +been eaten they are visible and wearable signs of past dangers overcome +through the protective action of the society itself, and are therefore +a guarantee of similar protection in the future. And as the death of a +member is an enormously more important event for the community than the +mere killing and eating of a dugong, so an enormously greater +protective power is attributed to the human bones than to those of any +animal. + +The bones, then, are dug up, and brought into camp, where they are wept +over just as a friend who has been absent is wept over. All that is +left of the former person returns to the social life, henceforward to +occupy a definite place in it, and the weeping is the rite of +aggregation, the expression of the attachment of those who weep to the +bones that now return to them from the grave. The skull and jawbone and +the long bones are then decorated with red paint and white clay, this +being the way in which the relatives express their sense of the value +of them. The other bones are made up into strings and distributed to be +used on occasion as amulets. + +Soon after the digging up of the bones the other part of the ceremony +of the end of mourning takes place. We have seen that while the dead +man was in an indeterminate position his relatives were still attached +to him by social bonds, but now that he has finally become a spirit, +and is for ever definitely cut off from the human society, these bonds +cease to exist. The mourners, therefore, who have been cut off from the +normal social life are free to return to it and even if they should not +so desire, yet it is their duty to do so. The return of the mourners to +the society is marked by a dance. The clay that has marked their +condition is taken off, and they are decorated with white clay and red +paint and all the ornaments usual on ceremonial occasions. Thus +decorated they dance, the women on this occasion being required to +dance as well as the men. The dance is interrupted shortly after it is +begun in order that those who have not been mourning may weep with the +mourners. The weeping, according to the explanation at the beginning of +the chapter is a rite of aggregation by which the mourners are welcomed +back to the society, just as returning friends are welcomed after an +absence. It has nothing whatever to do, I believe, with the dead person +for whom they have been mourning, but is merely an expression of +solidarity between those still alive. Dancing and the decorations used +in the dance, I have argued, are means by which the society expresses +its own unity, and makes the individual realise what it means to be one +of a group, so that in this dance we see the society once more coming +together to continue its common life, and compelling those who have +been cut off from it to feel, even against their inclinations, that +they have become once more units of the social body. After this +ceremony the mourners are relieved from the restrictions to which they +were subjected. + +In order to complete this discussion of the burial customs it is +necessary to explain why a person’s name should be dropped from use +after his death, and although this will require a digression of some +length, this seems the most convenient point at which to deal with it. +There is a very special relation between the name of anything and its +fundamental characteristics, which in logic we describe by saying that +the latter are included in the connotation of the name. The way in +which the Andamanese represent this relation to themselves is shown in +one of the legends. At a time when the ancestors did not know either +the names or the uses of the different objects to be found in their +country, one of them, Da Teŋat by name, walked through the forest +enquiring of the objects he met what were their names. From most of +them he received no reply, but the yam and the resin replied to him and +gave him their names. The legend shows that as soon as the hero of the +tale knew the name of the yam he immediately knew that it was of use as +a food and that it required to be cooked in a particular way, although +he was till then ignorant of those important properties. Similarly, +having discovered the name of the resin he knew that it could be made +into a torch and so used to give light. + +There is, to the mind of the Andaman Islander, a somewhat similar and +very important connection between a person’s name and what is here +called his social personality, and this is exhibited in the customs +whereby the name is avoided on certain occasions. A consideration of +the different instances will show, I think, that the name is always +avoided whenever the owner is for any reason prevented from taking his +or her usual place in the life of the society. At such times the social +personality is as it were suppressed, and the name which represents it +is therefore also suppressed. + +From the moment of her first menstruation to the date of her marriage, +or more strictly to the date of her first parturition, the birth-name +of a woman is dropped from use and she is called by her flower-name. A +woman only attains her complete social personality as a mother. As a +child she has not the power to become a mother. She acquires that power +at her first menstruation and therefore from that time until this new +virtue is actively exercised she is in a position in which one of her +virtues, one of the qualities making up her social personality, is in +abeyance. Therefore her name (her birth-name) is not used and she is +given a temporary name in its place, a flower-name. She is, as it were, +in blossom, and only when her body ripens to its fruit is she a +complete woman. + +At certain stages of the initiation ceremonies the name of a youth or +of a girl (the flower-name in this instance) is avoided for a certain +period. Such occasions are during, and for some time after, any of the +more important ceremonies, such as the cutting of the boy’s back, the +puberty ceremony of the girl, the turtle-eating and pig-eating +ceremonies. After a boy’s back is cut he is addressed and spoken of for +some time as Eǰido, his own name not being spoken. Similarly during and +after the turtle-eating or the pig-eating ceremony he is addressed and +spoken of by the name Kimil. The explanation of these customs is that +at these times the initiate is in an abnormal position by reason of the +ceremony that has taken place, and is not permitted to take an ordinary +part in social life. After the initiation ceremony, for example, the +youth is not permitted to handle a bow for some weeks (the bow being +the typical masculine implement). + +The names of a newly-married couple are avoided for a few days after +their marriage. Marriage produces an important change in the social +personality, and this change is expressed in the marriage ceremony, but +all such changes take time, and it is some days at least before the +married couple can be expected to have settled down in their new +positions. For these days, therefore, their names are not used. The +same sort of explanation will hold for the custom of dropping the names +of a father and mother before and after the birth of a child, +particularly the first born. + +At the turtle-eating ceremony of the North Andaman coast-dwellers the +youth is given a new name. It is possible that a girl is also given a +new name at this time, and that another name is also given to the youth +at the pig-eating ceremony, but on these points I neglected to make +sufficient enquiry. The name given at the turtle-eating ceremony is +never used and is not likely to be known except to those who were +present at the ceremony, and therefore serves no such purpose as the +flower-name of the girl. The giving of the name is simply the mark of +the change of social personality brought about by the ceremony. The +youth receives an addition to his personality and therefore receives an +additional name. It is significant that all the names given at this +ceremony have reference to the sea and to things of the sea, +particularly to turtle, such as Čokbi-čiro, turtle-liver, Čokbi-tei, +turtle-blood, etc. + +During the period of mourning, when, as we have seen, the mourner is +withdrawn from the ordinary life of the society, his name is not used, +showing that during this period his social personality is in a state of +partial suppression. After the mourning period is over the mourner, +when he resumes his social personality, resumes at the same time his +name. + +Now death is the most fundamental modification of the social +personality that is possible and therefore the name of a person +recently dead is strictly avoided. Death, however, does not destroy the +social personality utterly and for ever, but produces in it a profound +change, which begins at the death itself and is only completed at the +end of and by means of the customs of mourning. After the mourning is +over the virtues of the dead man affect the survivors through memory, +and his bones form a precious possession of the community, thus +constituting for him a new social value, a new personality. During the +period of change, while the personality does not exist in the same form +as before the death, but does not yet exist in the form in which it +will when he lives only in the memory of his friends, the name is not +used. After the mourning period is over the name may again be used. + +In general then, it may be said that at any period in which a person is +undergoing a critical change in his condition in so far as it affects +the society his name falls out of use, to be resumed when the period of +change is over. The reason for this is that during such periods of +change the social personality is suppressed or latent and therefore the +name which is closely associated with the social personality must be +suppressed also. + +The customs of burial and mourning are therefore seen to be not simply +the result of natural feelings of fear and sorrow but ritual actions +performed under a sense of obligation and strictly regulated by +tradition. They are means by which the society acts upon its members, +compelling them to feel emotions appropriate to the occasion. Since the +dead person has, by his death, become a cause of social disruption, all +contact with him must be avoided. But the dead man had a certain value +to the society, and as a thing of any kind cannot be valued unless its +loss is felt as a source of pain, so if the community did not mourn +when it lost one of its members that feeling of the social value of +individuals on which the existence of the society depends would soon +diminish in strength, thereby weakening the social cohesion. + +It is now possible for us to understand the Andamanese beliefs about +the spirits. The basis of these beliefs, I wish to maintain, is the +fact that at the death of an individual his social personality (as +defined above) is not annihilated, but is suddenly changed. This +continuance after death is a fact of immediate experience to the +Andaman Islanders and not in any way a deduction. The person has not +ceased to exist. For one thing his body is still there. But above all +he is still the object of the social sentiments of the survivors, and +thereby he continues to act upon the society. The removal of a member +of the group is felt not as something negative but as the positive +cause of great social disturbance. + +The spirits are feared or regarded as dangerous. The basis of this fear +is the fact that the spirit (i.e. the social personality of a person +recently dead) is obviously a source of weakness and disruption to the +community, affecting the survivors through their attachment to him, and +producing a condition of dysphoria, of diminished social activity. The +natural impulse of the Andaman Islander or of any other human being, +would be, I believe, not to shun the dead body of a loved one, but to +remain near it as long as possible. It is the society, acting under a +quite different set of impulses, that compels the relatives to separate +themselves from the remains of the one they loved. The death of a small +child has very little influence on the general activity of the +community, and the motive for severing connection with the dead that is +present in the case of an adult, either does not exist or is so weak as +to be overruled by the private feelings of affection, and so the child +is buried in the hut of the parents, that they may continue to keep it +near them. This affords a good test of the hypothesis, and gives strong +support to the view that the fear of the dead man (his body and his +spirit) is a collective feeling induced in the society by the fact that +by death he has become the object of a dysphoric condition of the +collective consciousness. + +If the Andamanese are asked what they fear from the spirit of a dead +man they reply that they fear sickness or death, and that if the burial +and mourning customs are not properly observed the relatives of the +dead person will fall sick and perhaps die. + +The basis of this notion of the spirits is that the near relatives of +the deceased, being bound to him by close social ties, are influenced +by everything that happens to him, and share in his good or evil +fortune. So that when by sickness and resulting death he is removed +from the community, they are as it were drawn after him. For this +reason they are, during the period of mourning, between life and death, +being still attached to the dead man. Contact with the world of the +dead is therefore regarded as dangerous for the living because it is +believed that they may be drawn completely into that world. Death is a +process by which a person leaves the living world and enters the world +of the spirits, and since no one dies willingly he is conceived as +being under a compulsive force acting from the world of spirits. Now +sickness is a condition that often ends in death, a first stage of the +way leading to the world of spirits. Hence sickness is conceived by the +Andamanese as a condition of partial contact with that world. This is +what is meant by the statement that sickness and death come from the +spirits. + +The way the Andamanese think about the spirits is shown in the +Akar-Bale legend of the origin of death [174]. Yaramurud, having died +through an accident, self-caused, becomes a spirit, but he does so only +under the compulsion exercised upon him by his mother, who, now that he +is dead, insists that he must go away from the world of the living and +become a spirit. The spirit then comes back to see his brother and by +this contact causes the brother’s death. The story implies that it was +not because Yaramurud was evilly disposed towards his brother that he +killed him, but on the contrary it was his attachment to his relative +that caused him to return to visit him, and death followed as a result +of this contact of the living man with the spirit. Since that time +deaths have continued to occur in the same way. Thus it appears that +the Andamanese conceive that the spirits do not cause death and +sickness through evil intention, but through their mere proximity, and, +as the legend very clearly shows, the burial customs are intended to +cut off the unwilling spirit from contact with the living. This +explains also why during the period of mourning the relatives of a dead +person are thought to be in danger of sickness, and have more to fear +from the spirit than others, for since it is they who were most +attached to him during life it is they who are most likely to suffer +from contact with him after he is dead. It was Yaramurud’s brother who +was the first to die through the influence of the spirits. + +The feelings of the living towards the spirits of the dead are +therefore ambivalent, compounded of affection and fear, and this must +be clearly recognized if we are to understand all the Andamanese +beliefs and customs. We may compare the relation between the society of +the living and the society of the dead to that between two hostile +communities having occasional friendly relations. That the Andamanese +themselves look upon it in some such way is shown by the belief that +the ceremony by which a dead man is initiated into the world of spirits +resembles the peace-making ceremony. The dead man, up to the time of +his death, has been living in a state of enmity with the spirits, and +before he can enter their community and share their life he has to make +peace with them in the same way that men make peace with one another +after they have been at war. + +This notion of hostility between the society and the world of spirits +is found in other primitive societies, and seems everywhere to have a +definite social function. The removal of a member of the community +either by death or otherwise is a direct attack on the social +solidarity and produces in primitive societies an emotional reaction of +the same general character as anger. This collective anger, if freely +expressed, serves as a compensating mechanism, satisfying and restoring +the damaged sentiment [175]. But this can only happen if there is some +object against which the anger can be directed. In the instance of +homicide the social anger is directed against the person responsible +for the death and against the social group to which he belongs. In the +instance of death from sickness some other object has to be found, and +amongst primitive peoples there are two chief ways in which this is +done. An example of one method is afforded by the tribes of Australia, +amongst whom there is a strong and constant hostility between +neighbouring local groups, with a result that the anger at a death from +sickness directs itself against some community with which the group of +the dead man is at enmity and it is believed that some member of that +community has caused the death by magic. The Andamans afford an example +of the second method. Amongst them it would seem that the enmity +between different local groups (except as concerns the J̌a̤rawa in the +South Andaman) was never very strong and the belief in evil magic was +not highly developed, so that the anger at a death is directed against +the spirits, and sometimes find expression in violent railings against +them, accompanied by all the bodily manifestations of extreme rage and +hatred. + +Now though the Andamanese regard the spirits with fear and hatred, and +believe that all contact with them is dangerous for living men, yet +they do not look on them as essentially evil, for that would conflict +with their own feelings of attachment to their dead friends. + +I gathered a few hints that they even believe that at times the spirits +can and will help them. Thus a man will call on the sea-spirits of his +own country to send plenty of turtle (over which the spirits seem to be +assumed to have power) when he is going hunting. A very important fact +in this connection is the different way in which a native regards the +spirits of his own country and of other parts, the latter being thought +to be much more dangerous than the former because presumably they are +the spirits not of relatives and friends but of strangers at the best +or enemies at the worst. + +There is other evidence that the Andamanese do not regard the power +that is possessed by the spirits as being essentially evil. This power, +whereby the spirits are able to cause sickness, seems to be shared by +the bones of dead men. Indeed the Andamanese call such bones +“spirit-bones” (lau-to̱i, čauga-ta). Now this power in the bones (though +it may at times be supposed to cause sickness) is more commonly made +use of in order to prevent or cure it. + +The most conclusive evidence that the power of the spirits is not +intrinsically evil, but may be used to produce both good and evil is +afforded by the beliefs about medicine-men or dreamers (oko-ǰumu). +There are three ways in which a man can become a medicine-man. The +first is (as the natives put it) by dying and coming back to life. Now +when a man dies he becomes a spirit and therefore acquires the peculiar +powers and qualities of a spirit, which he retains if he returns to +life. Secondly, if a man straying in the jungle by himself be affronted +by the spirits, and if he show no fear (for if he is afraid they will +kill him) they may keep him with them for a time and then let him go. +Such a man, on his return, is regarded as being a medicine-man, and +possessing all the powers of medicine-men. I was told of one man who +became a medicine-man in this way within living memory, and it was +stated that when he returned from the forest where he had been kept by +the spirits for two or three days he was decorated with ko̱ro fibre. We +have seen that this fibre is used by the spirits in the ceremony by +which they initiate dead men, and its presence on the returned warrior +was perhaps accepted by his friends as evidence that he had been +initiated by the spirits. The third and last way in which a man may +become a medicine-man is by having intercourse with the spirits in his +dreams. This is a point to which it will be necessary to return later. +For the present it is sufficient to note that in every instance the +power of the medicine-man is believed to be derived from his contact +with the spirits in one of the three possible ways. + +We are justified in concluding that the special power of the +medicine-man, by which he is distinguished from his fellows, is simply +the same power that is possessed by the spirits, from contact with whom +he has obtained it. The medicine-man is believed to be able both to +cause and to cure sickness, to arouse and to dispel storms. In other +words he has power for both good and evil, and we must conclude that +the spirits have the same. Moreover, it is commonly said that the +medicine-man is able to produce the effects he does, whether they be +harmful or beneficial to his fellows, by communicating with the spirits +in dreams and enlisting their aid. This would seem to prove the point +that I am here concerned with, that the power possessed by the spirits, +though contact with it is always dangerous, may yet in certain +circumstances be of benefit to the society, and is therefore not +essentially evil in nature. + +The Andamanese believe that a medicine-man communicates with the +spirits in sleep, and this is not the only evidence that they believe +sleep to be a condition in which contact with the world of spirits is +easier than in waking life. It is believed that sickness is more likely +to begin during sleep than when awake. During the initiation ceremonies +the initiate is required to abstain from sleep after eating pork or +turtle, and this would seem to be because sleep is regarded as +generally dangerous and therefore to be avoided on such occasions as +this when every precaution needs to be taken. + +The explanation of this belief seems to lie in the fact that sleep is a +condition of diminished social activity, in which the individual is +withdrawn from active social life, and is therefore also withdrawn from +the protection of the society. After eating turtle the initiate is in +urgent need of the protection of the society, which would be lost to +him if he were permitted to sleep. After a death, when the corpse +remains in the camp all night the people remain awake, and since there +is no other common activity in which they can join, they sing, and thus +protect themselves from the spirits that are present as the cause of +the death. + +This explanation implies that all conditions of diminished social +activity on the part of an individual are dangerous. One example of +such a condition is sickness, in which the sick person is unable to +pursue his ordinary occupations. Other examples are afforded by a +mother, and to a certain extent a father during the period preceding +and following the birth of a child, and by a woman during the menstrual +period. All these, as various customs show, are believed by the +Andamanese to be conditions of danger in which it is necessary to take +ritual or magical precautions. A better example for our purpose is that +of an adolescent during the period covered by the initiation +ceremonies, when, as we have seen, he is as it were cut off from the +society, and there is abundant evidence that the Andamanese believe +this to be a state of danger. Another example is the condition of a +homicide during the period of his isolation. Lastly, we have seen that +a mourner is cut off from the ordinary social life, and it may now be +noted that the native explanation of the restrictions observed in that +state is that if things were not done thus the mourner would be ill; in +other words the condition of mourning is one of danger, and the ritual +referring to it is the means by which the danger (from the spirit +world) is avoided. This explanation does not conflict with the one +previously given but on the contrary we can now see that the notion +that the mourner is in a position partly withdrawn from active +participation in social life necessarily involves the belief that he is +in a condition of danger. + +We may conclude that every condition in which the individual is +withdrawn from full participation in active social life is regarded as +dangerous for him, and that this is at least one of the reasons why +sleep is so regarded. We have already noted that all conditions of +danger tend to be thought of as due to contact with the spirits, and +sleep is therefore supposed to be a state in which such contact is +easier than in waking life. Now sleep is visited by dreams and it comes +about that the dream-life, by reason of its contrast with waking-life, +is seized upon by the Andamanese as a means by which the nature of the +spirit world may be represented to the imagination. + +The Andaman Islander seems to regard the dream-world as a world of +shadows or reflections, for he uses the same word to denote a shadow, a +reflection in a mirror, and a dream (the stem -ǰumu in Aka-J̌eru). Now +when a man enters this shadow-world in sleep he is, as we have seen, +conceived as coming into partial contact with the world of spirits. +Hence the Andaman Islander believes that in dreams he may communicate +with the spirits, that dreams may be a cause of sickness, and that in +dreams a medicine-man can cause or cure sickness in his fellows. In +this shadow-world the man himself becomes as it were a shadow, a mere +reflection of himself; it is not he that lives and acts in his dreams +but his ot-ǰumulo, his double, his shadow-self, or, as we might say, +his soul. It is but a step from this to the representation of the +spirit-world as a similar world of shadows and dream-shapes, and to the +conclusion that when a man dies it is his ot-ǰumulo that becomes the +spirit. + +To summarise the argument, the belief in the world of spirits rests on +the actual fact that a dead person continues to affect the society. As +the effect is one of disorganisation, whereby the social sentiments are +wounded, the dead are avoided and the spirits are regarded with fear. +But as a recently dead person is still regarded with feelings of +attachment by his friends, the resulting final attitude towards the +spirits is ambivalent. By a simple step the spirits come to be regarded +as the cause of sickness and death, and therefore as hostile to living +men. Yet, as the beliefs about medicine-men show, it is possible for +exceptional individuals to be on terms of friendship with the spirits. +Finally, the dream-life affords a means by which the spirit-world may +be represented in a simple and concrete manner. This last feature (the +association of the spirits with dreams) I believe to be a secondary +elaboration of the primary or fundamental belief which shows itself in +the ritual of death and mourning, serving only to rationalise it and +make it more concrete. This need of concrete representation of the +spirit-world shows itself in other beliefs, in which may be seen the +tendency to become self-contradictory that is often the mark of ideas +that arise as the result of attempts to rationalise conative and +affective impulses. The spirits are, on the one hand, as it were +shadows or images of living men, and yet, since they are feared and +disliked, they are often represented as being repulsive and inhuman, +with long legs and short bodies, with long beards and ugly faces [176]. +The spirits must be thought of as somewhere, but there is no +consistency in the statements as to where that somewhere is; one man +will say that they live in the sky, another that they are under the +earth, a third will point to a particular island as their home; at the +same time it is evident from other statements that they vaguely +conceive them as being everywhere, in the forest and the sea. + +We are now in a position to understand what the Andaman Islander means +when he says that the danger he fears from food is from the spirits. +The greatest evil that can happen to the community is the sickness or +death of its members, and these are believed to be the work of the +spirits. The sense of the social value of food takes the form of a +belief that food is dangerous, and inevitably the danger comes to be +conceived as that of sickness or death, and is therefore associated in +their minds with the spirits. + +But there is a more fundamental reason than this. I have tried to show +that it is because food has such important effects for good and evil on +the social life that it is believed to be endued with a peculiar power +which makes it necessary to approach it with ritual precautions. If +this thesis be valid it should be capable of generalisation, and we +should find the same power attributed to every object or being that is +capable of affecting in important ways the well-being of the society. +We should expect that the Andamanese would attribute this power not +only to the more important things used for food but also to such things +as the weather and dead men (i.e., the spirits). Now this, if the +argument has been correct, is exactly what we do find, and we have here +the reason why the Andaman Islander, when asked what he fears from +eating dangerous foods, replies that he fears sickness or the spirits +of the dead. + +We may formulate in precise language the beliefs that underlie the +ceremonial, remembering always that the Andaman Islanders themselves +are quite incapable of expressing these beliefs in words and are +probably only vaguely conscious of them. (1) There is a power or force +in all objects or beings that in any way affect the social life. (2) It +is by virtue of this power that such things are able to aid or harm the +society. (3) The power, no matter what may be the object or being in +which it is present, is never either essentially good or essentially +evil, but is able to produce both good and evil results. (4) Any +contact with the power is dangerous, but the danger is avoided by +ritual precautions. (5) The degree of power possessed by anything is +directly proportioned to the importance of the effects that it has on +the social life. (6) The power in one thing may be used to counteract +the danger due to contact with the power in some other thing. + +We have studied this power in the animals and plants used for food and +the things used as materials. It is this that makes turtle dangerous to +eat and Anadendron fibre dangerous to prepare, and it is this also that +makes animal bones or the leaves of Hibiscus available for protection. +We have now seen that the same power is present in dead men, in their +bodies, their bones, and in the spirit-world to which dead men go. All +contact with the world of the dead is highly dangerous, and yet we have +seen that human bones may be used for protection and that even the +spirits may be induced to heal sickness or allay storms. We have also +seen that the same power is present in the oko-ǰumu, and we have made +the important discovery that it is through contact with the spirits +that he acquires the power. This reveals another important principle. +(7) If an individual comes into contact with the power in any thing and +successfully avoids the danger of such contact, he becomes himself +endowed with power of the same kind as that with which he is in +contact. Now although the oko-ǰumu possesses a very special social +value, yet every man and woman has some social value, some of that +power which makes any being capable of affecting the society for good +or ill, and we can now see that the initiation ceremonies are the means +by which the individual is endowed with power (or, as the natives say, +made strong) by being brought into contact with the special power +present in each of the important kinds of food. The initiation of the +ordinary man or woman is parallel to the initiation of the oko-ǰumu +save that in one instance it is the power in foods and in the other +that in the spirits with which the initiation is concerned. + +It has been held in this chapter that the society or the social life +itself is the chief source of protection against danger for the +individual. If this be so then the society itself possesses this same +power with which we are dealing, and we must expect to find that +contact with this power is also dangerous for the individual. Now the +occasion on which the individual comes into contact with the power in +the society is in the dance, and I found evidence that the natives +believe that dancing is dangerous in exactly the same way as eating +food. Confirmation of this will appear later. + +It would seem that for the Andaman Islander the social life is a +process of complex interaction of powers or forces present in the +society itself, in each individual, in animals and plants and the +phenomena of nature, and in the world of spirits, and on these powers +the well-being of the society and its members depends. By the action of +the principle of opposition the society—the world of the living—comes +to be opposed to the spirits—the world of the dead. The society itself +is the chief source of protection to the individual; the spirits are +the chief source of danger. Hence all protection tends to be referred +to the society and all danger to the spirits. In the initiation +ceremonies it is the society that protects the initiate against the +dangers of food, and those dangers are referred, generally if not quite +consistently, to the spirits, with which at first sight they would seem +to have nothing to do. + +It is now at last possible to understand the uses of the word ot-kimil +which were first discussed on page 267 above. When the word is used in +reference to a person who has just partaken of food it denotes a +condition of danger produced by contact with the power in foods. This +condition results at any time from the eating of any of the more +important foods, but is clearly produced in an extreme form when a food +such as turtle or pork is being eaten for the first time at a ceremony +of initiation. Hence the initiate is most intensely kimil and is +therefore addressed and spoken of by that term, or as we might say “the +kimil person.” + +Used in reference to sickness the word denotes a condition of danger +due to contact with that power (in the spirits or in food) which is the +cause of sickness. Used in reference to storms it again denotes a +condition of danger for the society. Storms are sometimes said to be +caused by the spirits [177]. This is also the explanation of the use of +the word to denote a particular season of the year. The Kimil season is +by no means hot, but cool; it is, however, the season at which violent +cyclones are most likely to occur, being the period of the change from +the south-west to the north-east monsoon. It is therefore a season of +danger to the society from that power which produces storms. + +Finally, a man who has joined in a dance is said to be ot-kimil and +seems to be regarded as being in a condition of danger similar to that +produced by food. It might be thought that in this instance the word is +only used in its literal meaning of “hot,” but I believe that this is +not so. The dance is the occasion on which the individual comes most +closely into contact with the power in the society itself, and I +believe that this contact is regarded as dangerous and therefore as +making the individual ot-kimil. + +Thus we see that in its various uses the word ot-kimil denotes a +condition of danger due to contact with that power on the interaction +of the different manifestations of which the well-being of the society +depends. + +How is it then that to denote this condition the Andamanese use a word +which, primarily, seems to mean “heat”? The answer is that they +conceive the qualities that give to objects their social values as +being the manifestations of a kind of energy, and as being similar to +the kind of energy which they know best, that of heat. The +psychological basis of this is not difficult to discover. The eating of +food is productive of bodily heat (the Andamanese live in a hot climate +and eat much fat, it must be remembered), so that the power present in +foods is inevitably thought of as a sort of heat or heat-producing +energy. In the dance the Andaman Islander experiences, as we have seen, +an increase in his own personal force or energy, and this also is +associated with the sensation of bodily heat produced by dancing. All +other bodily activities result in the sensation of heat (in hunting and +work of all kinds) and as it is in his activities that the social value +of the individual is manifested this value is itself conceived as a +sort of heat-producing energy. Further the Andamanese seem to associate +with the idea of heat all conditions of mental activity and excitement. +We ourselves do the same, as shown by such words as “ardour,” “zeal,” +etc. and such phrases as “the heat of anger, or enthusiasm,” and there +is good ground for thinking that all such associations or symbolisms +(sensory metaphors) have a physiological basis. Finally, fire which (as +we shall see better in the next chapter) is regarded by the Andamanese +as the most important possession of the society, and which (as we have +already seen) has in a very high degree the power that makes objects +capable of affecting the society, is for this reason in a suitable +position to become the archetype of all forms of energy, activity or +force. This system of notions of the Andamanese that the world is the +arena of a continual struggle of forces present in the society itself, +in each individual, in the substances that are used for foods and +materials, in fire, in storms and sunshine, and in the spirits and +bones of the dead, is, as I have tried to show, the result not of any +process of reasoning but of the immediate social experience, and as it +is in the heat of his own body, and in states of excitement of his own +mind, that the individual does actually experience the effects of these +forces upon himself he uses the same word to denote all conditions of +heat and all conditions of the manifestation of this energy, organising +around that word as well as he can his somewhat vague conceptions. + +In case this symbolism should still seem strange, and the explanation +of it unsatisfactory, it is as well to show by means of a couple of +quotations that in other primitive societies differing widely from the +Andamanese similar uses of the words hot and heat are to be found. In +his work on the Achehnese (Vol. I, p. 305) C. Snouck Hurgronje writes +thus of the natives of the Malay Archipelago: “In the native language +of the E. Archipelago all happiness, rest and well-being are united +under the concept of ‘coolness,’ while the words ‘hot’ and ‘heat’ +typify all the powers of evil. Thus when a person has either just +endured the attack of a ‘hot’ influence or has luckily contrived to +escape it, the adat prescribes methods of ‘cooling’ in order to confirm +him in the well-being which he has recovered or escaped losing. The +same methods are also adopted for charming away evil things and baneful +influences, the removal of which is regarded as an imperative +necessity. For instance, the completion of a house, and various +domestic festivities, are made the occasion for a process of ‘cooling’; +so also with a ship when newly built or after holding of a kanduri on +board; and before the padi is planted out the ground must be purified +from ‘hot’ or dangerous influences.” In this instance we find the word +“hot” used only in reference to evil forces. In the Andamans there is +no line drawn between good and evil forces. In spite of the differences +between them it is clear that the same mental process is responsible +for the symbolic use of the word “hot” in the Andamans and in the Malay +Archipelago. + +In Codrington’s The Melanesians, p. 191, we find an example of the same +mode of thought. “That invisible power which is believed by the natives +to cause all such effects as transcend their conception of the regular +course of nature and to reside in spiritual beings, whether in the +spiritual part of living men or in the ghosts of the dead, being +imparted by them to their names and to various things that belong to +them, such as stones, snakes, and indeed objects of all sorts, is that +generally known as mana. By means of this men are able to control or +direct the forces of nature, to make rain or sunshine, wind or calm, to +cause sickness or remove it, to know what is far off in time and space, +to bring good luck or prosperity or to blast and curse. In the New +Hebrides, the Banks’ Islands, the Solomon Islands about Florida as in +New Zealand and many of the Pacific Islands the word in use is mana. In +Santa Cruz a different word malete is used, which bears however the +same meaning. At Saa in Malanta all persons and things in which this +supernatural power resides are said to be saka, that is, hot. Ghosts +that are powerful are saka; a man who has knowledge of the things which +have spiritual power is himself saka; one who knows a charm which is +saka mutters it over water, saru’e and makes the water ‘hot,’ ha’asaka. +The people of Mala Masiki, the lesser part of the island, which is cut +in two not far from its south-eastern end by a narrow channel, think +that the men of the larger part, Mala Paina, are very saka. If one of +these visiting the Saa people points with his finger, suisui, there is +danger of death or calamity; if one of them spits on a man he dies at +once.” Here again there are important differences, as might be expected +in such different cultures as those of Melanesia and the Andamans, and +yet it is clear that there is a fundamental similarity of mental +process. + +The nature of this symbolic representation of the forces that affect +the social life may be made clear by considering another example. The +natives say that they use odu clay after eating because their bodies +give off an odour which would attract the spirits if they did not paint +themselves. The power of an object, by virtue of which it has what may +be called magical efficacy, is sometimes identified with its odour. A +number of the plants that are used as remedies for sickness, such as +the Trigonostemon, are possessed of strong and characteristic odours, +and the natives think that it is through the odour that they effect a +cure. Similarly the powerful properties attributed to the Anadendron, +whereby it will cause rheumatism, keep away sharks and spirits, and +turn turtle-meat bad, or stop a storm, are all said to be the results +of its “smell.” The stimulating power of olfactory sensations probably +has much to do with the development of these beliefs, but the +discussion of their psycho-physiological basis would lead us too far +away from the main subject, interesting as it would be. + +In the jungles of the Andamans it is possible to recognize a distinct +succession of odours during a considerable part of the year as one +after another the commoner trees and lianas come into flower. When, for +example, the species of Sterculia called in the North Andaman ǰeru +comes into blossom, it is almost impossible to get away from the smell +of it except on the sea-shore when the wind is from the sea. Moreover +these various flowers give their scent to the honey that is made from +them, so that there is also a succession of differently flavoured kinds +of honey. The Andamanese have therefore adopted an original method of +marking the different periods of the year by means of the different +odoriferous flowers that are in bloom at different times. Their +calendar is a calendar of scents [178]. + +Now they seem to regard each flower-period as possessing its own +particular kind of force, of which the scent is the manifest sign, and +to think that the succession of these different forces produces the +succession of different fruits, the whole generative energy of nature +being conceived as the result not of one force but of many, following +one another in regular rotation. When a girl reaches puberty the +natives think of her as having blossomed as it were, the later ripening +being the birth of her children, and so she, like the plants of the +jungle, is under the influence of the same natural forces that produce +the successive blossoming and fruiting of the different species. +Therefore, when a girl reaches her blossoming time she is given, for a +name, to be used until she bears her fruit, the name of that particular +odoriferous plant that is in flower at the time, it being this +particular one of the successive forces of the forest life that has +brought her childhood to an end. + +Under the influence of muscular exertion the human body gives off a +characteristic odour, of one generic kind, but differing somewhat in +every individual. The odour of the body, being the immediate result of +activity, may therefore well be regarded by the Andamanese as being +closely connected with the virtue or energy of the person. Further, the +eating of certain foods, such as dugong, turtle and pork, causes the +body of the Andaman Islander to give out a noticeable and recognizable +odour, different from that of mere perspiration. The natives themselves +seem to distinguish different odours for these different foods, but I +was not myself able to appreciate such differences. The Andamanese see +in this odour given off after eating a manifestation of the energy that +has been absorbed with the food, which energy it is that makes the food +both necessary for life and also a source of danger. This seems to be +the meaning of the belief that the spirits are attracted to a man by +the odour of the food he has eaten unless he paint himself with clay. + +We can now at last return to the rite of painting the body with odu +clay after eating. I have suggested that the use of this clay in +mourning is a means by which the mourner marks the fact that he is in a +peculiar relation to the spirit-world, spirits being believed to be +light in colour. The mourner is in contact with the spirit-world +through his connection with the dead person, and to mark his condition +he paints himself to resemble the spirits, thereby affirming his +solidarity with them. The clay protects him from the danger that +results from any contact with the spirit-world. According to the rule +of method laid down at the beginning of the chapter we must find a +similar explanation of the use of odu after eating. + +We have seen that it is the same kind of force in the spirits and in +the animals used for food that makes them both dangerous. Yet at the +same time there is a sense in which it is true that each kind of thing +has its own peculiar kind of force. The ceremony of turtle-eating +endows a youth with power to avoid the dangers of turtle but it does +not give him the power to avoid the dangers of pork. Hibiscus leaves +are efficacious against turtle, but against the pig Tetranthera leaves +must be used. In describing the patterns painted on the body after +eating it was stated that there is a tendency to connect particular +types of pattern with particular kinds of food. Thus a design commonly +used after eating turtle suggests the plates of the turtle’s carapace, +and a pattern used after eating pork similarly suggests the +longitudinal markings on the pig’s back. This would seem to indicate +that when a man has eaten turtle he paints himself so as to identify +himself with the animal he has eaten, and similarly with other foods, +just as in mourning he paints himself so as to identify himself with +the spirit-world. In other words, the painting of the body with odu +serves to show that there is a relation between the individual and some +source of power, which relation can best be described as one of +solidarity with the species, whether of animals or supernatural beings, +in which the power resides. The mourner is in contact with the +dangerous powers of the world of death, and by expressing his +solidarity with that world he avoids the dangers that might result from +his condition. For the fear of any being and a feeling of solidarity +towards that being are incompatible with one another. Similarly a man +who has eaten turtle is in contact with the power that resides in the +turtle species, a power that may be dangerous, but which when mastered +and made use of by proper precautions is a source of well-being, of +strength. By painting himself with a pattern that reminds him in some +way of the turtle he expresses his solidarity with the turtle species +and so obviates the dangers of his condition. + +This interpretation is made more probable by the consideration of the +dances of the initiation ceremonies. In the dance at the turtle-eating +ceremony the movements of the dancers suggest the movements of a turtle +swimming. If the resemblance be not imaginary we may regard this as +another method of affirming the solidarity of the dancers with the +turtle species. We should then have to conclude that the dance at the +pig-eating ceremony is similarly imitative of the movements of a pig, +and though this is quite possible it is not so obvious. + +This same kind of clay is used in the initiation ceremonies. At the +turtle-eating and pig-eating ceremonies it is spattered over the body +of the initiate from head to foot. I have no explanation to offer for +this peculiar method of application. After the ceremony is over the +initiate is painted with clay in a pattern called kimil-t’e̱ra-puli +which consists of a background of the clay on which a pattern of +separate spirals is made with the finger. The pattern is to be seen in +Plate XI. I cannot put forward with any confidence the explanation I +have to offer of this pattern, for I have no means of confirming it, +and it is therefore little more than a guess. It is that the spiral or +circle is a symbol of the camp and therefore of the society and the +social life in general, the basis of the symbolism being the roughly +circular or elliptical form of the village or communal hut, and the +circular form of the dance (more noticeable in the Little Andaman than +in the Great Andaman). If this be really the meaning of the symbol then +the explanation of its use in the initiation ceremonies would be that +in these ceremonies the youth is preserved from danger by the force +inherent in the society, which affords protection to all its members, +and the use of the symbol of the society would therefore be most +appropriate. + +The act of painting the body with odu clay is therefore a rite which +advertises the fact that an individual is in intimate contact with some +source of that power which belongs to the things that affect the social +life, and it thereby serves to keep alive the sentiments associated +with that notion of power. The painting after eating reminds the +individual of his dependence upon and obligation towards the society, +and, since all join in the rite, it serves also to maintain the unity +of the community. + +We may now return to the question of the meaning of personal ornament +in general. It is a commonplace of psychology that the development of +the sense of self is closely connected with the perception of one’s own +body. It is also generally recognized that the development of the moral +and social sentiments in man is dependent upon the development of +self-consciousness, of the sense of self. These two important +principles will help us to appreciate the hypothesis to which the +discussion has now led, that in the Andamans the customary regulation +of personal ornament is a means by which the society acts upon, +modifies, and regulates the sense of self in the individual. + +There are three methods of ornamenting the body in the Andamans, (1) by +scarification, (2) by painting, and (3) by the putting on of ornaments. + +The natives give two reasons for the custom of scarification, that it +improves the personal appearance and that it makes the boy or girl grow +up strong. Both these mean that scarification gives or marks an added +value. The explanation of the rite would therefore seem to be that it +marks the passage from childhood to manhood and is a means by which the +society bestows upon the individual that power, or social value, which +is possessed by the adult but not by the child. The individual is made +to feel that his value—his strength and the qualities of which he may +be proud—is not his by nature but is received by him from the society +to which he is admitted. The scars on his body are the visible marks of +his admission. The individual is proud or vain of the scars which are +the mark of his manhood, and thus the society makes use of the very +powerful sentiment of personal vanity to strengthen the social +sentiments. + +Turning now to the painting of the body, we have seen that the pattern +of white clay serves to make both the painted individual and those who +see him feel his social value, and we have seen that this +interpretation explains the occasions on which such painting is used. +To complete the argument it is necessary to consider the occasions on +which the use of white clay is forbidden. + +Those to whom this prohibition applies are (1) a youth or girl who is +aka-op, i.e., who is abstaining from certain foods during the +initiation period, (2) a mourner, (3) a homicide during the period of +isolation, and (4) a person who is ill. All these persons are excluded +from full participation in the active social life, and therefore the +social value of each of them is diminished. It would obviously be wrong +for a person in such a condition to express by decorating himself a +social value that he did not at the time possess. + +The occasions on which this style of painting is used or forbidden are +thus all satisfactorily explained by our hypothesis. It remains to +consider the nature of the painting itself, and how far it is an +appropriate means of expression. To do this we must discuss very +briefly some of the processes of symbolic thought of the Andamanese. +Conditions of well-being (both individual and social) are associated in +the minds of the Andamanese with fine weather, both directly (through +physiological action) and indirectly (through the effect of fine +weather on the social life). Hence Tomo, who, as we shall see in the +next chapter, is a personification of fine weather, is a being who is +connected with goodness and happiness. With fine weather, and therefore +with individual and social well-being, the Andamanese associate +brightness and whiteness (for which they have only one word) and any +bright or light colour. The association of light and dark with euphoric +and dysphoric conditions respectively has a psycho-physical basis, for +it seems to be universal in human nature. Now the clay that the +Andamanese call to̱l-odu is the whitest substance they know, and is for +this reason fitted to be symbolical of conditions of well-being. Fine +weather is associated, in the minds of the Andamanese with honey, +because in the season of fine weather honey is plentiful, and is also +associated for a similar reason with snakes. Sweetness itself is +universally associated with pleasant things, again through a +psycho-physical link. The Andamanese believe in a special connection +between honey and a species of large snake called wara-ǰobo or or-čubi +[179], so that this snake comes to be representative of fine weather +and sweetness and therefore generally of states of well-being. Now, +throughout the Great Andaman the pattern in which white clay is painted +on the body is called after this snake, and the zig-zags of which the +pattern is composed may be supposed to be representative of the snake +itself. When, therefore, a man paints himself with white clay in a +pattern which he regards as representing the snake wara-ǰobo, it is +evident that the painting is meant to express a condition of +well-being, with which the snake itself, and whiteness, are, by a +number of links, closely associated. This is not all, however. The +Andamanese, we may not doubt, derive from the painted pattern an +esthetic pleasure due to its rhythmical character, its shape as an +arrangement of lines and spaces. Further it provides the pleasure that +we obtain from a thing elegantly and skilfully made, and this explains +why so much care is taken in the making of the pattern. This pleasure +at what we may call the beauty of the pattern heightens the effect +produced by its symbolic references. The real value of the pattern, its +pleasure-giving quality, is transferred to the man on whose body it is +executed. He himself is pleased with it, proud of it, and so becomes +pleased with and proud of himself, for the pattern by being imprinted +on his body becomes part of him. The sense of self attaches to it, as +with us the sense of self attaches to our clothes. + +It would be interesting to carry the analysis of the mental processes +involved in all this a stage or two further, but enough has been said, +I hope, to show that the nature of the painting with clay is +appropriate to its use as marking or expressing value. + +Patterns are sometimes painted with this same white clay on the face +alone, such patterns being built up either of the zig-zags of the snake +pattern, or of rhythmically arranged series of short lines. The use of +such paintings is regulated by a sort of etiquette. By so having his +face decorated a man expresses that he is pleased with himself, and +obviously there are occasions on which it is appropriate and others on +which it is inappropriate that he should feel thus. A man who has been +successful in the day’s hunting, for example, is quite justified in +having his face ornamented in this way, and it is on such occasions as +this that the custom is observed. + +When a man is painted for a dance, or on any other ceremonial occasion, +with white clay, he is also painted at the same time with red paint. In +these instances we must suppose that the red paint serves the same +purpose as the pattern of white clay with which it is combined, namely +to make the decorated person pleasantly aware of his or her social +value. Red paint is also used, however, in sickness, and on other +occasions, as affording protection against evil, particularly evil from +the spirit-world. + +This double use of red paint is to be explained by reference to the +colour symbolism of the Andaman Islanders. For them the colour red is +pre-eminently the colour of blood and of fire. There is ample evidence +of this which it is perhaps not necessary to state. Now blood is +identified with the warmth of the body and with life; the blood and the +fat are sometimes spoken of as the two vital principles. Fire, as I +have already shown, is taken as a symbol of activity and of mental +excitement. Thus the colour comes to be associated in the minds of the +Andamanese with all euphoric conditions, with excitement, vitality, +mental and bodily activity, and with energy or force in general. It is +possible that this symbolism, which seems to be much the same in all +divisions of mankind, has a psycho-physical basis in the stimulating +dynamogenic power of sensations of redness. + +When a person is sick he is in need of vitality, of energy, and so his +body is daubed with the red paint that is a symbol of the things that +he needs, and by a simple mental process he comes to believe that by +applying the paint to his body he increases his energy and vitality, +and so helps himself to get rid of the sickness. At a dance, or on +other ceremonial occasions, it is required that the individual shall +have a sense of his own value, and for this he must experience that +sense of personal force and vitality that is produced, as we have seen, +by the action of the dance. This effect is reinforced by the use of the +red paint which is the symbol of that condition of energy and vitality +that it is (for some special reason) necessary for him to feel. As the +value of the individual depends upon his strength or force, the red +paint is thus a suitable means of expressing the value of him on whose +body it is painted, and really expresses, though by different means, +exactly the same thing as the pattern of white clay with which it is +combined. + +We are now in a position to understand the use of white clay and red +paint in the purification of a homicide. This takes place at the end of +a period of isolation, during which the man is entirely cut off from +the social life, and lives in a condition of supposed extreme danger on +account of the blood that he has shed. During this time he may not use +his hands to touch food, and at the end his hands are purified by the +application to them of red paint and white clay. It is clearly because +these two substances are both of them in different ways symbols of +conditions of well-being that magical virtue is ascribed to their use +in this instance. It is perhaps worth while to recall that both red +ochre and white clay are sometimes given internally as remedies against +sickness. + +For the sake of the argument it has been necessary to separate the two +motives underlying the use of personal ornament, the desire for +protection and the desire for display. But we now see that these two +motives are very intimately related and are really both involved in +every kind of ornament. All ornament in some way marks the relation of +the individual to the society and to that force or power in the society +to which he owes his well-being and happiness. When painting or +ornament is used to give protection, it is, as we have seen, the +protective power of the society itself that is appealed to, and what is +expressed is the dependence of the individual on the society. When +ornament or paint is used for display it is again the dependence on the +society that is expressed, though in a different way and on occasions +of a different kind. We have seen that scarification is also a means of +marking the dependence of the individual on the society, and it is very +important to note that the Andamanese sometimes explain it as due to +the desire for display and sometimes to the need of protection +(enabling the child to grow strong and so avoid the dangers of +sickness), showing very clearly that there is some intimate connection +between these two motives, or at any rate that one and the same method +of ornamentation can satisfy both. There is the further example of red +paint, which is combined with the pattern of white clay for purposes of +display, and is also constantly used in many ways as affording +protection. + +We are thus brought to the final conclusion that the scarification and +painting of the body and the wearing of most if not all of the +customary ornaments are rites which have the function of marking the +fact that the individual is in a particular permanent or temporary +relation to that power in the society and in all things that affect the +social life, the notion of which we have seen to underlie so much of +the Andaman ceremonial. + +The scarification of a boy or girl leaves permanent marks of the +permanent relation between the adult and the society. By means of it +and the initiation ceremonies that follow or accompany it, and of which +it may really be considered to be a part, the society gives the +individual his social value, of which the scars remain as a visible +sign for him to be proud of, and at the same time endows him with the +power to avoid the dangers with which his life is beset. + +The paintings of clay after food mark the temporary relation between +the individual and the power present in the food he has eaten. It is +chiefly thought of by the natives themselves as protective, as we have +seen, but it also gives an opportunity for the exercise of personal +vanity, for much care is taken in the designing and execution of the +pattern, which therefore affords the painted individual much the same +sort of satisfaction as the snake pattern of white clay. It calls his +attention to his own appearance, and makes him feel pleased or +satisfied with himself, conscious of his own personal value. A +condition of unity and harmony is produced in the community by a feast +as well as by a dance, and in each instance that harmony is expressed +by the painting of every member with the same material in a similar +design. The relation of the individual to the society is made visible +on his body. By means of the paintings after food the society not only +protects itself from danger but also rejoices in the well-being that is +produced by a supply of relished food. Inversely it can now also be +shown that the painting of white clay and red paint worn at a dance and +after marriage and initiation is not only a means of display but is +also protective. Both red paint and white clay are used to give +protection in sickness, and they are similarly used in the purification +of the hands of a homicide. Moreover we have seen, in reference to the +word ot-kimil, that the dance is a condition of danger by reason of the +contact it involves between the individual and the power of the +society. The few days following an initiation ceremony are definitely +believed to be a period of danger for the initiate, and during this +time the pattern of white clay and red paint must not be washed off but +must be allowed to wear off. By the time the last traces of the pattern +have disappeared the danger is considered to be over. There is evidence +that the first few days of marriage are regarded as a period of danger. +It would seem that the natives do attribute to the painting with white +clay and red paint some power of protection, but this is hidden under +the importance of such painting as a means of display. + +Of the various ornaments that are worn on the body some would seem to +be worn almost solely for purposes of display, because they are +pleasing to the eye. Such are the necklaces and other ornaments of +small shells. It would seem that the same motive is also responsible +for the use of the yellow skin of the Dendrobium of which the +Andamanese are so fond. The ornaments of netting and shell seem to be +worn primarily for display, but it is quite possible that some +protective power is attributed to them, as to the paintings of white +clay with which they are regularly worn. The belts of Pandanus leaf +that are worn by women are a mark of the sex, and the style of belt +worn differs with the social status of the woman. They thus serve to +exhibit the special social value of the woman in so far as it depends +upon her sex and her social status, but I believe that the Andamanese +attribute to the belt and to the apron of leaves worn with it a power +of protection against the special dangers to which women are believed +to be subject. This is suggested by the use of the Pandanus leaf in the +ceremony at a girl’s first menstruation [180]. I failed to discover any +special ideas connected with the ornaments of Pandanus leaf that are +sometimes worn by both men and women at dances. The ornaments that are +worn primarily for their protective power are those made of human and +animal bones and those of pieces of canes or of fibres of Hibiscus or +Ficus. These are always made decorative by the addition of shells and +yellow Dendrobium skin, and therefore besides their primary function +also serve as means of display. + +It is clear then that in the various methods of ornamenting the body +the two chief motives that we have considered are so combined that they +can hardly be estimated separately, and it is this mingling of motives +that has led us to the final understanding of the meaning and social +function of bodily ornament. Each of the different kinds of ornament +serves to make manifest the existence of some special relation between +the individual and the society, and therefore of some special relation +between him and that system of powers on which the welfare of the +society and of the individual depends. One of the most important +aspects of the relation of the individual to the society is his +dependence upon it for his safety and well-being and this is revealed +in all painting and ornament worn for protection. But the society not +only protects the individual from danger; it is the direct source of +his well-being; and this makes itself felt in the customary regulation +by which the use of the more important ornaments used for display is +confined to occasions on which it is quite clear that his happiness is +directly due to the society, such as a dance or feast. Thus the customs +relating to the ornamentation of the body are of the kind that I have +here called ceremonial. They are means by which the society exercises +on appropriate occasions some of the important social sentiments, +thereby maintaining them at the necessary degree of energy required to +maintain the social cohesion. + +To complete the discussion of ornament in general it is necessary to +refer very briefly to the ornamentation of objects such as bows, canoes +and baskets. Such ornamentation consists of (1) incised patterns (on +bows, etc.), which may be compared with the scarification of the body, +(2) painting with red paint and white clay (bows, canoes, skulls, +etc.), or with prepared wax (Nautilus shell cups, etc.), (3) patterns +made with the yellow skin of the Dendrobium (baskets, etc.), and (4) +shells attached by thread (baskets, baby-sling, etc.). The important +point to note is that the decoration applied to utensils is of the same +character throughout as that which, when applied to the body, has been +shown to be an expression of the social value of the person. Thus the +pattern painted on a canoe with white clay and red paint is the same as +that on the body of a dancer. It would seem, therefore, that the +ornamentation of utensils is a means of expressing or marking the +social value of the decorated object, and it might even be held that +the application of ornament to utensils is really a matter of +ceremonial. Just as a newly married man is painted with the snake +pattern which wears off and is not renewed, so a new canoe or a new +South Andaman bow is painted with the same pattern as soon as it is +finished, and after this pattern wears off it is not renewed. It is the +act of bringing a new canoe or bow into use that is the occasion of the +ceremonial expression of its value, if we may so regard the painting. A +new relation is established between the society and an object, which +thereby acquires a special social value, just as a youth acquires a +special new social value at the conclusion of one of the initiation +ceremonies. This example is sufficient to show that at least there is +nothing in the ornamentation of utensils that conflicts with the +explanation of bodily ornament given in this chapter [181]. + +It is time to bring the argument to a conclusion. It should now, I +hope, be evident that the ceremonial customs of the Andaman Islands +form a closely connected system, and that we cannot understand their +meaning if we only consider each one by itself, but must study the +whole system to arrive at an interpretation. This in itself I regard as +a most important conclusion, for it justifies the contention that we +must substitute for the old method of dealing with the customs of +primitive people,—the comparative method by which isolated customs from +different social types were brought together and conclusions drawn from +their similarity,—a new method by which all the institutions of one +society or social type are studied together so as to exhibit their +intimate relations as parts of an organic system. + +I have tried to show that the ceremonial customs are the means by which +the society acts upon its individual members and keeps alive in their +minds a certain system of sentiments. Without the ceremonial those +sentiments would not exist, and without them the social organisation in +its actual form could not exist. There is great difficulty, however, in +finding a suitable method of describing these sentiments. In attempting +to put into precise words the vague feelings of the Andaman Islander +there is always the danger that we may attribute to him conceptions +that he does not possess. For he is not himself capable of thinking +about his own sentiments. + +In the attempt to exhibit the meaning of the ceremonial I have shown +that it implies a complex system of beliefs about what I have called +power, and have stated those beliefs in more or less precise terms. But +the Andaman Islander is of course quite incapable of making similar +statements or even of understanding them. In his consciousness appear +only the very vaguest conceptions, such as those associated with the +word kimil or with odours. We, in order to understand his customs must +substitute for such vague notions others capable of precise statement, +must formulate in words the beliefs that are revealed in his actions, +but we must be careful not to fall into the error of attributing to him +the conceptions by which we make clear to ourselves his indefinite +sentiments and notions and the ceremonies in which they are expressed. + +With this qualification, then, the ceremonial of the Andaman Islands +may be said to involve the assumption of a power of a peculiar kind, +and we have been able to formulate certain principles which, although +the native is quite incapable of stating them as principles, are +revealed in the ceremonial. This power, though in itself neither good +nor evil, is the source of all good and all evil in human life. It is +present in the society itself and in everything that can affect in +important ways the social life. All occasions of special contact with +it are dangerous, i.e., are subject to ritual precautions. + +It should already, from the course of the argument, be plain that this +power or force, the interaction of whose different manifestations +constitutes the process of social life, is not imaginary, is not even +something the existence of which is surmised as the result of +intellectual processes, but is real, an object of actual experience. It +is, in a few words, the moral power of the society acting upon the +individual directly or indirectly and felt by him in innumerable ways +throughout the whole course of his life [182]. + +One of the most important ways in which the individual experiences the +moral force of the society of which he is a member is through the +feeling of moral obligation, which gives him the experience of a power +compelling him to subordinate his egoistic desires to the demands of +social custom. The individual feels this force acting upon him both +from outside and from inside himself. For he recognizes that it is the +society with its traditions and customs that constrains him through the +force of public opinion, and yet the conflict between customary duty +and selfish inclination takes place in his own mind and is experienced +as the clash of antagonistic mental forces. The moral sense within +impels towards the same end as the social opinion without. + +This force of moral obligation is felt not only in relation to right +and wrong conduct towards other persons, but is also felt in all +ritual, whether negative or positive. + +The moral force of the society is also felt, in a quite different way, +in all states of intense collective emotion, of which the dance affords +a good example. I have shown how in the dance the individual feels the +society acting upon him, constraining him to join in the common +activity and regulate his actions to conform with those of others, and, +when he so acts in harmony with them, giving him the experience of a +great increase of his own personal force or energy. All ceremonies in +which the whole community takes part give the individual the experience +of the moral force of the society acting upon him in somewhat the same +way as the dance. + +Thus in these and other ways the individual does experience the action +of the society upon himself as a sort of force, not however as a +physical force, but as a moral force, acting directly in his own mind +and yet clearly felt as something outside his own self, and with which +that self may be in conflict. + +How is it, then, that this force comes to be projected into the world +of nature? The answer to that question, which can only be very briefly +indicated here, is to be found in the conclusions at which we have +arrived with regard to social values. The moral force of the society is +experienced by the individual not only directly but also as acting upon +him indirectly through every object that has social value. The best +example of this process is found in the things used for food. Thus, in +the Andamans, food is very closely connected with the feeling of moral +obligation, as we have seen. Further, food is one of the principal +sources of those alternations of social euphoria and dysphoria in +which, through the action of the collective emotion, the individual +experiences the action of the society upon his own well-being. When +food is plentiful happiness spreads through the community and the time +is spent in dancing and feasting so that the individual feels a great +increase in his own personal force coming to him from the society or +from the food. On the other hand, when food is scarce and hunting +unsuccessful the community feels itself thwarted and restrained and +experiences a sense of weakness, which collective feeling has for its +immediate object the food the lack of which is its origin. + +Similarly with the phenomena of the weather and all other objects that +have social value, they are all associated in the mind of the +individual with his experience of the action of the society upon +himself, so that the moral force of the society is actually felt as +acting through them. + +But it is really through the ceremonial that this is mainly brought +about. It is in the initiation ceremonies that the moral force of the +society acting through foods is chiefly felt, and the same experience +is repeated in a less intense form in the rite of painting the body +after food. It is similarly through the protective use of the materials +used for weapons and through the various ritual prohibitions connected +with them that the moral force of the society acting through them is +chiefly felt. The argument has been that it is by means of the +ceremonial that the individual is made to feel the social value of the +various things with which the ceremonial is concerned. Putting this in +other words we can now define the ceremonial as the means by which the +individual is made to feel the moral force of the society acting upon +him either directly, or in some instances indirectly through those +things that have important effects on the social life. By its action +upon the individual the ceremonial develops and maintains in existence +in his mind an organised system of dispositions by which the social +life, in the particular form it takes in the Andamans, is made +possible, using for the purpose of maintaining the social cohesion all +the instinctive tendencies of human nature, modifying and combining +them according to its needs. + +As an example of such modification of primary instincts let us briefly +consider that of fear, to which, from the time of Petronius [183] to +the present day, so much importance has been attributed in relation to +the origin of religion. In childhood any fear of danger makes the child +run to its mother or father for protection, and thus the instinct of +fear becomes an important component of that feeling of dependence that +the child has towards its parents. The primitive society uses the fear +instinct in much the same way. The Andaman Islander, through the +ceremonies and customs of his people, is made to feel that he is in a +world full of unseen dangers,—dangers from the foods he eats, from the +sea, the weather, the forest and its animals, but above all from the +spirits of the dead,—which can only be avoided by the help of the +society and by conformity with social custom. As men press close to one +another in danger, the belief in and fear of the spirit-world make the +Andaman Islander cling more firmly to his fellows, and make him feel +more intensely his own dependence on the society to which he belongs, +just as the fear of danger makes the child feel its dependence upon its +parents. So the belief in the spirit-world serves directly to increase +the cohesion of the society through its action on the mind of the +individual. An important law of sociology is that the solidarity of a +group is increased when the group as a whole finds itself opposed to +some other group; so, enmity between two tribes or nations increases +the solidarity of each; and so also, the antagonism between the society +of the living and the world of the dead increases the solidarity of the +former. + +The argument is now concluded. I have examined, as fully as space would +permit, all the more important features of the Andaman ceremonial, and +have tried to show what part they play in the social life of the +Andamans. At the end of our enquiry it is well to ask if any definition +of ceremonial can be given more exact than the vague one with which we +started. The chapter has shown that what I have denoted as ceremonial +consists of (1) collective actions, (2) required by custom, (3) +performed on occasions of changes in the course of social life, and (4) +expressing the collective sentiments relating to such social change. By +the first part of the definition we exclude the magical practices of +the medicine-men, which however it has been convenient to consider in +connection with the ceremonial, as it has helped us to understand some +of the ideas underlying both magic and ceremonial. If we are not to +exclude the rite of painting after eating food we must regard the +obtaining of a good supply of food as being a change in the course of +social life even though it occurs very frequently, and even every day +for weeks together. It must be admitted, however, that the definition +does not give us any very clear dividing line between ceremonial and +art, play, or morals. The painting of the body with white clay after +marriage or initiation must, I think, be regarded as ceremonial, while +the painting of a new bow or canoe with the same clay in the same +pattern should perhaps more conveniently be called art. But what are we +to say of the painting worn at a dance or the face-painting that a man +occasionally wears when there is no special reason? The dance at the +end of mourning is clearly a ceremony, but can we say the same of the +ordinary dance after a successful hunt? And if it be not ceremonial, +shall we call it art or play? When friends are required to give +presents to a newly-married couple are we to call this obligation one +of ceremonial, of etiquette or of morals? These and similar questions +are perhaps incapable of a satisfactory answer, nor does it seem +necessary to attempt to find one. Those elements of culture that we now +differentiate and call by different names were, in primitive societies, +undifferentiated and not clearly to be distinguished from one another, +and a striving after too great a precision of definition in dealing +with such a culture as that of the Andamans leads, I think, not to a +clearer understanding, but to the opposite. The main thing is to keep +close to the facts. In this chapter I have examined a number of facts +which are plainly related and the question of how we are to label them +is one that may well be left till such time as we shall have acquired a +more profound insight into the nature of culture in general and the +complex forces involved in its existence and growth. For the present, +some vagueness in our provisional classifications need not greatly +perturb us. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE INTERPRETATION OF ANDAMANESE CUSTOMS AND BELIEFS: MYTHS AND LEGENDS + + +In the last chapter I tried to explain, by reference to psychological +principles, the more important ritual and ceremonial observances of the +Andamanese; in the present chapter I shall deal in a similar manner +with the legends recorded in Chapter IV. That is to say, I propose to +explain, not how the legends arose, but what they mean, what part they +play at the present time in the mental life of the Andaman Islander. +Customs that seem at first sight meaningless or ridiculous have been +shown to fulfil most important functions in the social economy, and +similarly I hope to prove that the tales that might seem merely the +products of a somewhat childish fancy are very far indeed from being +merely fanciful and are the means by which the Andamanese express and +systematise their fundamental notions of life and nature and the +sentiments attaching to those notions. + +I propose to analyse a few of the more important legends, and will +begin with the Akar-Bale story of the origin of night and day [184]. +The explanation of this story depends on the connection of day and +night with the cicada. This species of cicada, of which I do not know +the scientific name, always makes a noise (“sings” as the natives say) +during the short interval of twilight between sunset and darkness and +between dawn and sunrise. It is possible that individual insects of the +species make a noise at other times of the day and night, but I do not +remember to have heard them, and it is only at the beginning and end of +the day that they are all to be heard singing together. The song of the +cicada, as day gives place to night and as night changes to day is one +of the most familiar of all natural phenomena to the Andamanese. +Another fact that is made use of in the legend is that if one of these +insects be crushed as was the cicada of the story, or even if it be +taken up in the hand, it will utter its shrill and plaintive note, not +unlike the cry of a human being in pain. Finally, fully to understand +the tale, it is necessary to remember that in all the tribes of the +Great Andaman Division there is a prohibition against killing the +cicada. The meaning of this prohibition will have to be discussed in +connection with the legend. + +The facts stated above enable us to understand what may be called the +skeleton of the legend. One of the ancestors killed a cicada (a +forbidden act), the cicada uttered its cry (as it does when hurt), and +as a result, darkness covered the world (as it always does when the +cicada sings in the evening). Leaving aside, for the present, the rest +of the story, we may try to make clear to ourselves just what this part +of it expresses. The explanation that I propose is to the effect that +the legend is simply an expression or a statement of the “social value” +of the phenomenon of the alternation of day and night. By the social +value of anything I mean, as explained in the last chapter, the way in +which that thing affects the life of the society (either beneficially +or adversely) and therefore the way in which it affects the social +sentiments of the individuals who compose the society. There is no need +to discuss at length and in all its bearings, the way in which the +alternation of day and night affects the social life of the Andamanese. +The one outstanding feature of first importance is that the day is the +time of social activity whereas the night is a period when the society +is, as a rule, not active. It was shown in the last chapter that one of +the most important elements in the mental complex revealed by a study +of the ceremonial is the recognition of the fact that it is on the +activity of the society that the individual depends for his security +and well-being. So long as he can feel that he is an active member of +an active community the individual feels that he has for his support +(morally and physically) a great force on which he can rely. If, for +any reason, he is temporarily cut off from the society and from +participation in its life, he is in a position of insecurity, and +believes himself to be in danger from the powers of the world of +spirits. It is an inevitable result of this that the daytime, when the +society is active, should be felt to be a period of comparative +security, while the night, when all social activity ceases, should be +felt to be a period of comparative insecurity. That the day and night +are so regarded is shown in the belief of the natives that the spirits +are more to be dreaded during the night than during the day. + +The Andaman Islander, like many other savages, is afraid of the dark. +It might perhaps be thought that this fear is immediate and +instinctive, a result of the physiology of the human nervous system, +but that, I think, would be a false assumption. Many infants would seem +not to be at first afraid of darkness, but to learn to fear it, as they +learn to fear many other things. It is not possible here to enter into +a discussion of the matter, but I would hold that in the Andaman +Islanders and probably in other savages, the fear of darkness, of +night, is a secondary or induced feeling, not by any means instinctive, +and is in large part due to the social sentiments, to the fact that at +night the social life ceases. The savage feels, and rightly so, that +for everything he has and is, for the safety and well-being of his body +and the comfort of his soul, he depends on the communal life in which +his own life is merged. When, at the close of day, the social life +ceases, he feels, should anything occur to direct his attention to his +own condition, less secure than when the social life is proceeding +actively around him [185]. + +The interpretation that I would offer of the Akar-Bale legend is that +it is an expression of these sentiments relating to the night, an +expression that takes advantage of the connection between the song of +the cicada and the alternation of night and day. One feature of the +manner of expression will be explained later in the chapter, namely +that it takes the form of a story relating to a mythical period of the +past. For the present the necessity of this particular form must be +accepted as a postulate. Granting this it remains only to show that the +legend does express the social value of night as defined above. + +The fear of night, or rather, since that fear is rarely more than +potential, the feeling that night is a time of insecurity, is part of +the general attitude of fear or respect towards the forces of nature +that are believed to be possible sources of danger to the society. Now +it has been shown that this particular attitude to nature finds +expression in ritual prohibitions of various kinds. For instance, the +Andaman Islander translates his feeling of the social value of food +substances into the belief that such things must be treated with ritual +precautions. Applying this to the case before us, we must first +recognize that to the Andaman Islander the alternation of day and night +and the singing of the cicada are not separate phenomena but are two +parts or aspects of one and the same recurring event. Now, the night +and the day are things that cannot be handled, i.e., cannot be +immediately subject to the actions of human beings, while the cicada +can be handled. Hence it is to the cicada that the need of precaution +is referred. Any interference with the cicada is forbidden, and this +prohibition serves as a mark or expression of the social value of that +alternation of night and day with which the cicada is so intimately +associated [186]. + +The legend of the Akar-Bale tribe is simply an elaboration of this +theme. In the beginning there was no night, no darkness. Social life +was continuous and was not subject to periods of diminished intensity. +Then one of the ancestors (apparently in a fit of temper owing to his +lack of success in fishing) crushed a cicada, and the cry of the insect +brought darkness upon the world. The darkness, with its inhibition of +activity, is clearly regarded as an evil, i.e., as a manifestation of +force hostile to the society, and this accords with the definition of +the social value of night given above, where it was shown that this +value is negative, that night is a source of social dysphoria. + +This interpretation is confirmed by the statements about the night made +in the North Andaman (where this legend does not seem to exist), such +as that the night is made by the spirits (Lau) who draw a mat or cloth +across the sky. When we remember that the spirits are the embodiment of +the forces hostile to the society we see how this statement expresses +the feeling that night is the time when such hostile forces are in the +ascendant. + +The Akar-Bale story, besides giving an account of the origin of night, +relates the invention of singing and dancing. There is no specific +reference to dancing in the story as recorded from my Akar-Bale +informant. The reference is found, however, in the version recorded by +Mr Man [187] and it is implicit even in the Akar-Bale version. Dancing +is always accompanied by a song, and every song is composed with the +express intention of being sung at a dance. Thus, for the Andamanese, +singing and dancing are merely two aspects of one and the same +activity. + +Dancing, except on a few special ceremonial occasions, always takes +place at night. Night, as we have seen, is a source of social +dysphoria. It prevents the pursuit of the common social activities, +such as hunting or making canoes or weapons. The condition produced by +darkness can be neutralised by means of singing and dancing, the dance +being a condition of intense social euphoria, in which social activity +is at its maximum, and all the social sentiments are pleasurably and +intensely excited. + +This belief that dancing and singing are means by which the evil +influence of darkness can be overcome is shown in the custom observed +when a corpse remains in a camp all night, of sitting round it and +singing, in order (so the natives say) to keep away the spirits that +have caused the death. They do not dance, because the pleasurable +excitement of the more intense activity would be incompatible with the +condition naturally resulting from a death. This custom affords clear +evidence that singing, and in a yet higher degree the combined activity +of singing and dancing, possess magical efficacy against the dangers +prevalent at night. + +This relation between the (negative) social value of night and the +(positive) social value of dancing and singing is simply and clearly +expressed in the legend. It was the “singing” of the cicada that +produced the darkness. The ancestors, finding themselves overwhelmed +with darkness, set to work to remedy this evil by singing (and, it is +to be presumed, by dancing to the song). One after another they sang a +song, just as at a dance one man after another sings until he is tired. +Finally, after the dance had gone on for a number of hours, Ko̱ŋoro took +his turn at singing and the night came to an end and day appeared. So +effectual was the means adopted of neutralising the evils of darkness +that it finally resulted in the return of the daylight in which +ordinary social life is possible. + +The reference to resin in the legend can be easily understood. The +Andamanese use resin to provide the light by which they dance, as well +as for torches for fishing on dark nights. It is their only artificial +light, and without resin a dance would be a very poor affair. Thus the +social value of resin is that it affords a means of neutralising to a +certain extent the effects of darkness. + +These are, I think, all the essential elements of the story. One of the +ancestors, under the influence of an anti-social passion, killed a +cicada, which uttered its cry, and thereupon the world was covered with +darkness. The ancestors then made torches of resin which enabled them +to neutralise the darkness to some extent. They then invented dancing +and singing and after they had continued for a number of hours the +light came back. Since that time day and night regularly alternate with +one another, and the cicada sings at each period of change. Men have +learnt how to use resin for artificial light, and how to remedy the +effects of darkness by dancing and singing. + +The legend is thus simply the expression in a particular form of the +relation between the society and a certain natural phenomenon in terms +of what have been called social values. We find expressed the social +values of night and of resin and dancing. It may be noted that the +legend also gives a special social value to the ancestors, different +from and greater than that of men or women at the present day. The +ancestors of the Andamanese were able to do many things that men cannot +do now; they were able to affect the processes of nature in a way that +is no longer possible. This notion of the social value of the +ancestors, of the past, will be shown to be one of the most important +elements in the legends, it being this that is responsible for the +general form of the stories. The consideration of this subject, +however, must be postponed. + +There are still a number of points of the legend that have not been +considered. It is not easy to account for the inclusion in this story +of the discovery of the yam. It is possible that there is some ground +of association between the yam and the cicada, but I do not certainly +know of any such. There is a legend recorded by Mr Man from the Aka-Bea +tribe, and given above [188], in which an account is given of the lucky +discovery of the first yam by the chance shooting of an arrow. It is +therefore quite likely that the yam story first existed quite +independently, and that it has become incorporated in the legend of the +origin of night on account of the fact that the incident of the +shooting of an arrow was found in both of them. + +There is one reason for the inclusion of the yam incident that it is +worth while to note. By its means it is told how Da Teŋat discovered a +new object of each of the three kinds—animal, vegetable, and mineral. +The new animal was the cicada, the new vegetable was the yam, and the +new mineral was the resin, which, as the story shows, the natives +classify as a “stone,” although they know its vegetable origin. The +story is thus rounded off and given an air of completeness and +symmetry. + +The incident of the shooting of the three arrows is of some interest as +giving us an idea of how the Andamanese think of chance or luck. +Arrows, it must be remembered, are regarded as being possessed of +magical power. Further, the ancestors themselves possessed powers that +do not belong to living men, as is shown repeatedly in the legends. The +ancestor shoots an arrow, and, by reason of his power and that of the +arrow, it strikes an important object and leads him to a discovery. The +mere striking of the object by the arrow seems to give him a certain +degree of power over the object, whereby he forces it to reveal its +name. (We have already seen, by a reference to this very story, that +there is an important connection between the name of an object and its +social value [189].) Thus, in common with other primitive peoples, the +Andaman Islanders regard what we call luck or chance as due to the +action of the magical powers possessed by objects and by human beings. + +There is one point that is not very plain in the Akar-Bale version, but +I think we must take it that Da Teŋat was disgusted at his lack of +success in fishing. His irritation was not diminished but rather +increased by the fact that he did succeed in procuring one small and +worthless fish. His shooting of the arrows must be regarded, I think, +as the result of his anger. He might be supposed to address his arrows +as follows: “You have not succeeded in hitting any fish at which I +aimed you; let me see if you can hit anything on your own account, when +I take no aim.” In this way he was led to the discovery of the yam, the +resin and the cicada, for though it is not explicit, it is evident that +it was the third arrow that led him to the cicada. His irritation was +not yet appeased however, and he crushed the cicada, thus bringing +darkness over the world. We must infer that he was aware of what he was +doing, for as soon as he had discovered the yam and the resin he learnt +their names and thereby learnt all there was to know about them and +their properties, and we must suppose that he similarly learnt the name +of the cicada, and that to injure it would cause darkness. In the +Aka-Bea legend recorded by Mr Man it is expressly stated that the +ancestors who performed the actions that led to the first darkness did +so because they were annoyed by the continuous heat of the sun [190]. + +Now we have here a very important feature of the legend which it will +not do to overlook. We shall find that it is a principle of the Andaman +legends that evil results follow from evil actions. Night, which, by +reason of its negative social value, is regarded as an evil, is shown +to be the result of the misbehaviour of one of the ancestors in giving +way to anti-social feelings of anger or annoyance. It is a case of like +producing like. When an individual gives way to such feelings as anger +he becomes a source of danger to the society, or at any rate a source +of social dysphoria by disturbing the harmony of the community. Thus, +in the legend, it was the wickedness of the ancestor in giving way to +his feeling of irritation that led to the social disaster. Inversely, +it was through the combined effort of the ancestors joining in a +harmonious action (singing and dancing) that the day was brought back. + +The events of the legend are supposed to have taken place at a spot +named Golugma. I only visited this spot once and did not take +particular note of it, nor have I information about the position it +occupied in the social life of that part of the island in former times. +We do know, however, from the name Golugma Bud, that at one time it was +the site of a communal hut and was therefore an important camping +place. It may have been a place at which dance-meetings were frequently +held, and this would be a sufficient reason for its selection as the +legendary site of the first dance. + +One of the minor motives of the Akar-Bale version of this story is the +identity of the ancestor who appears as the chief actor. I regret to +say that I have never found the exact meaning of the word teŋat. Though +I asked the natives to bring me a specimen they did not do so. It is +probably either a species of spider or of ant. However, even if I had +succeeded in identifying the teŋat, it is possible that I should not +have discovered the reason why this particular creature was selected as +the hero of the story. This can be shown by considering another of the +incidents of the story. All the ancestors who sang and tried to bring +back the day failed except the ko̱ŋoro. This is a species of small red +ant. Whenever I heard this story told or referred to, this particular +incident (the successful singing of ko̱ŋoro) caused great amusement +amongst the listeners. It was obvious that it was a good joke. Yet in +spite of my endeavours on more than one occasion I was unable to see +what the joke was. + +In the A-Pučikwar version of the same legend [191] it was Pe̱tie, the +monitor lizard, who crushed the cicada and brought darkness. This is to +be explained not on the basis of any particular characteristic of the +lizard, but as being due to the position that this animal occupies in +the A-Pučikwar mythology in general as the first ancestor of the +Andamanese. As the first progenitor he is made responsible for the +origin of all sorts of things. The story of the origin of night must +have a chief actor, and in the absence of any important ground for +selecting any other of the ancestors the A-Pučikwar story-teller falls +back on the monitor lizard. + +In the above analysis I have drawn a distinction between what may be +called major and minor motives of the story. The validity of the +interpretation of the legends offered in this chapter depends on the +validity of this distinction, and it is therefore important to provide +a method by which we can separate major from minor motives. This can +only be done when there are several versions of the same legend. Major +motives may be defined as those which appear in all the versions of one +legend, while minor motives are those which may vary from one version +to another without producing any fundamental change in the legend +itself. Thus, by a comparison of the Akar-Bale and the A-Pučikwar +versions it can be shown that the identity of the chief actor is a +minor and not a major motive. + +If we compare the Akar-Bale legend with the Aka-Bea version recorded by +Mr Man we see that they have in common (1) the explanation of the +origin of night as due to the breaking of a rule, (2) the tracing back +of the trouble to the anti-social passion of anger on the part of the +actor or actors, (3) the account of the origin of dancing and singing +as a means of neutralising the effects of darkness. All the other +elements of the story are different in the two versions. In the Aka-Bea +story it is the killing of a grub (gurug) that brings on the night, +which is itself called gurug. What the meaning of this may be I cannot +say. I did not hear this version of the story, and was not able to make +any enquiries concerning it. All that it is necessary to note is that +both the legends express the social value of night, and they both +express it in very much the same way, the difference being that the +Akar-Bale version makes use of the connection between night and day and +the cicada, while the Aka-Bea story makes a similar use of some +connection (not yet explained) between the night and a grub. + +Thus the comparison of different versions confirms the interpretation +here given. The legend expresses the negative social value of night as +a period when social activity is diminished and the power of protection +of the society therefore lessened. It does so by telling how the night +first arose as the result of disobedience to a ritual prohibition, +i.e., of meddling with the forces of nature. It traces the original +cause yet further back to the anger of one of the ancestors, anger +being itself a source of social disturbance. It passes on to express +the social value of the dance, with its accompanying song, and exhibits +the relation, within the system of social values, of dancing and +darkness. Thus, although the manner of expression may differ, yet what +is expressed is the same in both versions, and we are therefore +justified in regarding this as the essential content of them. + +An exactly parallel explanation can be given of the Andaman notions +relating to the moon. The social value of moonlight is due to the fact +that it enables the natives to fish and catch turtle and dugong by +night. A clear moonlight night affords the best opportunity for +harpooning dugong. During the second quarter the light of the moon +steadily increases, and the period of moonlight falls in the first part +of the night. After the change to the third quarter the light steadily +diminishes, and moreover there is a gradually increasing period of +complete darkness at the beginning of the night. The natives do not +care to get up in the middle of the night to go fishing or hunting +turtle. Therefore the second quarter is the time when they undertake +such expeditions, and after the change to the third quarter they +abandon them largely or entirely, and if they do go out they have to +depend on torches. Therefore we may say that during the second quarter +the moon gives valuable help to the natives, but during the third +quarter withdraws that help. + +At the beginning of the third quarter the moon rises in the evening +with a ruddy hue. The natives explain this red and swollen appearance +by saying that the moon is angry. When a man does something that hurts +or damages another it is generally (in Andamanese life) because he is +angry. So to say that the moon is angry is equivalent to saying that he +is damaging or hurting someone, as he is indeed damaging the society by +withdrawing the light by which for the past week or so they have been +able to capture fish and turtle. The phenomena of the change of the +moon in so far as they affect the social life are represented as if +they were the actions of a human being. We may describe this briefly by +saying that the moon is personified, using that term in a special sense +to be defined more exactly later. Amongst the Andamanese, as amongst +ourselves, anger is associated with heat, and this explains why the red +glow of the moon when he rises during the first few nights of the third +quarter is regarded as the visible sign of his anger. + +Even the moon, however, is not to be expected to be angry without a +cause. The natives say that the anger is due to some bright light +having been visible at the time the moon rises. The personification is +thus further elaborated. The moon gives the light by which fishing and +turtle hunting at night are possible. This light has a positive social +value, and its withdrawal is an evil. They therefore regard the moon as +jealous, so jealous that if anyone makes use of an artificial light, as +of a fire or torch or burning resin, the moon immediately is consumed +with anger and withdraws the light that has been of so much use and has +not been sufficiently appreciated. This belief is a means by which the +value of the moonlight is recognized. Thus the beliefs about the moon +can be interpreted in exactly the same way as the legend about night; +both express, in accordance with the same psychological laws, the +social values of natural phenomena. + +I will next consider not a single legend but a number of different +stories, running through all of which we can find a single major +motive. I have recorded [192] three legends which relate, with some +differences of detail, how in the beginning the ancestors had no fire, +how fire was introduced by one of them, and how many of them, being +burnt or frightened, were turned into animals of different kinds. In +one version [193] the sea-eagle came into the camp of the ancestors and +threw fire amongst them; whereby many of them being frightened were +turned into animals. Another version is very similar, the chief actor, +however, being the prawn [194]. In an Akar-Bale version Dim-do̱ri, now a +fish, obtained the fire and burnt some of the ancestors with it so that +they became fishes [195]. + +This legend is a widespread one, being found both in the north and in +the south of the islands. The fact that the actor is different in the +three recorded versions proves that the identity of the hero of the +tale is a minor motive, i.e., one that may be varied without affecting +the essential meaning of the myth. + +The story serves as an explanation of the markings on birds and fishes, +these being where the ancestor who became the species was burnt by the +fire. Thus the legend is of the kind that is often called etiological. +The common method of explaining such legends is to say that they are +crude attempts on the part of primitive man to explain the natural +phenomena with which they deal, in this case the bright colours of +birds and fishes. Such an interpretation cannot be regarded as +adequate. Why should the Andaman Islanders want to explain the markings +of animals? Why should they explain them in the form of a legend, and +why should the legend take this peculiar form? + +The clue to the true interpretation of the three stories mentioned must +be sought in the social value of fire. It was shown in the last chapter +that fire is regarded as the symbol of social life and social activity, +the centre around which the social life revolves, the source from which +it draws its force. We may say, in a word, that it is the possession of +fire that makes social life (as the Andamanese know it) possible. It +was shown that it is on account of this relation of the society to fire +that the latter is believed to be a source of security, of protection +against the spirits. Now amongst all the creatures that inhabit the +world, man is the only one that possesses and makes use of fire. Here, +then, is the fundamental notion that is expressed in these legends. At +first, so the story runs, animals and human beings were one, were not +distinguished. Then came the discovery of fire. Some of the +(undifferentiated) ancestors fled from the fire, because they were +afraid of it, or because it burnt them. They became birds and beasts +and fishes, retaining their fear of the fire, and being cut off for +ever from the human society which, from that moment, constitutes itself +around the fire. It is the possession of the fire that makes human +beings what they are, that makes life as they live it possible. It is +equally (according to the legend) the lack of fire, or the lack of +ability to make use of fire, that makes the animals what they are, that +cuts them off from participation in human life. + +This, briefly, is the way I would explain the legend mentioned above, +and ample confirmation will be forthcoming when we consider some of the +other legends. Attention may be called here to a very significant +phrase in a version of the fire legend recorded by Mr Portman [196] to +the effect that “it was on account of the fire (i.e. of the possession +of fire) that the ancestors became alive.” + +The three stories considered above contain three motives. (1) They +express the social value of fire, by making the foundation of human +society (through the differentiation of men and animals) depend on the +discovery of fire. (2) They express a peculiar notion as to the +relation of the human species to other animals, which is found also in +other legends. (3) They give a legendary explanation of some of the +characteristics of animals, such as the bright colours of certain birds +and fishes. + +It would seem that these same motives are present in many of the +legends relating to the origin of fire. In the common version of the +fire legend the fire is stolen from Biliku (Puluga) by the kingfisher. +This bird has a patch of bright red feathers at the neck and these are +explained as being where he was struck by the fire or the pearl-shell +(lightning) flung by Biliku. In one variant the kingfisher swallowed +the fire and had his head cut off by the lightning, whereupon the fire +came out of his neck where the red feathers now are. In most of the +versions it would seem to be implied that though the kingfisher +succeeded in obtaining fire for the use of the ancestors, he was +himself unable to profit by his own exertions, for he was turned into a +bird condemned to eat his fish raw for ever. In one story, however, +from the Aka-Kede tribe, it would seem that the kingfisher, by the +possession of fire, and through the loss of his wings and tail, became +a man. There is a lack of logic here which it is worth while to note. +Although the kingfisher became a man yet the legend is clearly based on +the explanation of the red feathers of the bird’s neck as due to the +action of the fire. The psychological significance of such +inconsistencies as this will have to be discussed later on. + +Let us now consider another group of legends. We have seen that one +explanation (in the mythological sense) of how the birds arose is that +they were ancestors who fled from the fire. There are other stories +that give a different account and relate that the animals came into +existence through a great flood or storm that overwhelmed the +ancestors. Both of these legends are to be found in the same tribes. +Their incompatibility does not prevent them from being both equally +accepted. If it can be shown that the story of the flood is simply an +alternative method of expressing the same set of representations that +underlie the story of the origin of the animals through the discovery +of fire, the interpretation of the latter will be in some degree +confirmed. + +One account of the flood or storm, variants of which were obtained from +both the north and south of the islands, tells how the ancestors only +with great difficulty succeeded in saving the fire. Although it is not +explicitly stated, we may conclude, I think, that it was because some +of the ancestors kept their fire alight that they remained human, while +those who lost their fire were turned into animals. If my personal +impressions are of any value, this is really the idea that does +underlie the legend in the native mind. Thus it would appear that this +version of the flood myth is simply a reversal of the fire legend +previously considered. They both express the same thing in different +ways. They both make the possession of fire the thing on which social +(i.e., human) life depends, the fundamental difference between man and +animals. + +It may be objected to this interpretation that in some of the versions +of the flood myth there is no reference to the ancestors being turned +into animals, while in others there is no reference to the saving of +the fire. The reply to this is that if we are to understand the legends +we must not consider each separately, but must seek out the connections +between the different stories, connections that are not always obvious. +Thus, as there are, in each of the tribes, different versions of a +flood myth it might be supposed that the natives believe in several +different floods having taken place in the times of the ancestors. Mr +Man seems to have come to the conclusion that there were two distinct +floods. I am fully satisfied, from personal knowledge, that the natives +think of only one flood or catastrophe, and refer to it all the +different legends. Sometimes a man will relate how the flood came and +the fire was nearly lost, but will make no mention of the origin of +animals at this time. At another time the same man will relate how the +flood turned the ancestors into animals, but will make no mention of +the saving of the fire. To understand the meaning of the legends we +must connect these different stories together, for we know that they +are connected in the minds of the Andaman Islanders themselves. Every +native knows that it was at the time of the flood that the animals came +into existence and he may remember this fact when he hears the story of +how the fire was nearly lost. Similarly, when he hears the story of how +the animals came into existence he remembers the other story of how the +fire was nearly lost. Thus one man gave me a legend of the flood which +explained the origin of the animals, and at the very end he mentioned +as an afterthought “It was at this time that the fire was saved by Maia +Taolu.” + +When we thus connect the different stories relating to the flood we see +that they express a definite system of representations or beliefs, +which are found in all the tribes, and that this system is sometimes +completely and sometimes partially expressed in the different versions. +On the interpretation here suggested the major motives of the flood +myth are (1) the social value of fire as expressed by making the +difference between man and the animals depend on its possession by the +former and not by the latter, and (2) the notion of the animals as +having once been one with the ancestors. These two motives are both +present in the legends of the origin of fire that were previously +considered. It can be shown that even the third motive of the fire +legend manages to creep into the flood story. In the Aka-Kede version +[197] the dove is mentioned as having saved the fire. The connection +between the dove and the fire (which appears in other legends) [198] +would seem to have its basis in the shining plumage of the bird, just +as the kingfisher is connected with the fire through the red feathers +of its neck. + +The details of the legends may be briefly mentioned. One Aka-J̌eru +version [199] explains how one of the ancestors made a noise by +breaking firewood while the cicada was singing and so raised a great +storm, in which the fire was nearly lost, and in which many of the +ancestors were turned into animals. This version is a fairly complete +expression of the fundamental representations on which the whole group +of legends is based. There is an elaboration of one point in that an +account is given of how the cyclone was brought about. This is a +separate motive which will be discussed and explained later in +connection with the Biliku myth. + +Another legend from the same tribe [200] relates to a storm that was +caused in the same way, and that resulted in the destruction of the +whole world. The fire, which was nearly extinguished, was saved by one +of the ancestors. No mention was made of the ancestors being turned +into animals. This version, however, as I have recorded it, is +incomplete. I was unfortunately unable to understand some of what the +narrator told me. + +The Aka-Kede version [201] similarly does not distinctly state that the +ancestors who were destroyed by the flood were turned into animals, but +the fact that the three persons mentioned in the legend are all birds +suggests that it was at this time that the birds originated. The bird +called čarami-lebek, having lowered the surviving ancestors to the +ground with their fire, remained at the top of the Dipterocarpus tree +and has been there ever since. The Aka-Ko̱l version of the same story +[202] simply states that the ancestors were turned into animals in a +cyclone, but contains no mention of the rescue of the fire. + +In a number of these legends it is stated that the ancestors saved +themselves by climbing up into a tall tree or into the trees. This is +to be explained by the fact that the birds all live up in the trees, +and a great many of them can never be seen save overhead. The top of +the forest is where the birds live, it is their world, raised above the +world of men and women. The flood drove the inhabitants up to the tops +of the trees. The birds remained there and only the human beings came +down again. As the original inhabitants were driven up into the trees +by water covering the land we may complete the myth by saying that +those who failed to reach the upper world were on that account +compelled to spend the rest of their existence in the water as fish and +turtle. This is, I think, what the legend really means. Thus the story +of the flood gives a picture of a threefold world, the waters below +with their inhabitants the fishes and turtle and other marine +creatures, the solid earth, and the upper region of the top of the +forest where the flowers bloom and the butterflies and other insects +and the birds pass their lives. This representation of the top of the +forest as a world in itself may seem strange to one who has never seen +a tropical forest, but to one who has spent months beneath it the +forest-top of the Andamans does seem a world in itself, near yet +inaccessible, a world where there is a gay and interesting life in the +sunshine above, of which the wanderer in the deep shade beneath can +only catch occasional glimpses as he gazes up through the tangle of +boughs and leaves. For the natives of the islands therefore the top of +the forest is an alien world into which they can only penetrate with +extreme difficulty, by climbing, and with the life of which they have +little to do. Similarly the waters of the sea are another world into +which they can only penetrate for a few moments at a time by diving +[203]. + +It may be said that, on this view, no allowance is made for the +existence of terrestrial animals. That is true, but it must be +remembered that there are very few such animals in the Andamans. The +civet-cat and the monitor lizard and some of the snakes are as much +arboreal in their habits as they are terrestrial. There remain only the +pig and the rat as true terrestrial animals, and it may be noted that +neither of these two animals ever figures in the legends as an +ancestor. There are independent legends that relate to the origin of +the pig, and the rat seems to be of so little importance that no +explanation of its origin would seem to be necessary. Moreover the +monitor lizard and the civet-cat, which are partly terrestrial, occupy +for this reason exceptional positions in the legends. Thus there is a +legend recorded from the Aka-Kede tribe which accounts for the +simultaneous origin of the civet-cat and the pigs through a game of the +ancestors [204]. The monitor lizard is in an altogether exceptional +position in that it is equally at home in the trees, on the ground and +in the water of a creek. It is in a way free of all the three divisions +of the world. This helps us to understand why in some of the tribes the +monitor lizard is regarded as the original ancestor not only of the +Andamanese but also of all the animals, including the birds of the +forest and the fishes of the sea. The civet-cat cannot live in the +water as the lizard can [205], but can climb trees and run on the +ground. In many of the legends the civet-cat is said to be the wife of +the monitor lizard. It will be remembered that in the Akar-Bale story +it is the civet-cat, the wife of the first ancestor (the monitor +lizard), who saved the fire from the flood by climbing up to the top of +a steep hill with it. Thus it may be seen that the position of the +monitor lizard and the civet-cat in the legends of the Andamanese is +partly determined by the position that these two animals occupy in +relation to the threefold division of the world revealed in the story +of the flood. + +The repeated mention of the Dipterocarpus tree in these legends would +seem to indicate that it is a motive of importance. The tree is the +tallest tree of the Andaman forests, and is very common, but it is +probable that this does not afford an adequate explanation, and that +there are other ideas connected with it in the minds of the Andamanese +that would justify the place it occupies in the mythology. In one +Aka-J̌eru story the whole forest is said to have sprung from a +Dipterocarpus seed dropped by Biliku after she had destroyed the +original forest in her anger. It may be noted in passing that in the +languages of the North Andaman the word for this tree is the same as +the word for dugong. + +Let us now briefly examine the story of the origin of animals as +recorded from the Akar-Bale tribe [206]. There are three variants of +this story. The one recorded from an A-Pučikwar informant [207] must +really be regarded, I believe, as an imperfect reproduction of the +Akar-Bale version. The version given by Mr Man [208] is also of +Akar-Bale origin, as is shown by the fact that the phrases in it are in +the Akar-Bale language. A comparison of these variants shows that the +main purpose of the story is to relate how a great storm or cyclone +visited the islands in the times of the ancestors and turned many of +them into animals. The storm was brought about by the action of one of +the ancestors who in anger did some of the things that are known to +anger Puluga and cause a storm. + +In some of the other legends we find the same motive. Thus in an +Aka-J̌eru legend [209] the flood is said to have been caused by one of +the ancestors breaking firewood while the cicada was singing. In an +Aka-Kede version [210] this part of the story is further elaborated, +and a reason is given for this action on the part of the ancestor. +Ko̱po-tera-wat was angry with the rest of the ancestors because they +refused to give him any of the honey they had collected, and he +therefore deliberately performed the action that brought the storm. The +purpose of these elements of the legend is to explain how the great +flood came about, by tracing it to the anti-social action of some one +or more of the ancestors, just as the night is supposed to have been +produced by an ancestor who performed a forbidden action. In the +Aka-Kede version and also, as we shall see, in the Akar-Bale story, the +matter is traced still further back and the anti-social action of the +ancestor is explained as being caused by his anger which had been +aroused by a disagreement with the ancestors. The origin of the +catastrophe that separated the once united ancestors into animals and +human beings is thus traced to the fact that they could not live +together sociably and in harmony. + +In the Akar-Bale story the part which explains how one of the ancestors +came to give way to anger is highly elaborated. It starts with the +quarrel of the tree-lizard with some of the ancestors. (It may be noted +in passing that the tree-lizard is quarrelsome in reality.) This leads +to the death of the lizard (or his transformation into an animal that +still bears the name), and so to the grief of his mother and her anger +against the ancestors who have killed her son. This elaboration of one +part of the story tends to obscure the meaning of the whole. This is +particularly the case in the version recorded by myself in which the +anger of the tree-lizard is the direct cause of the change of some of +the ancestors into animals. The narrator sets out to explain how a +flood or cyclone came and turned the ancestors into fishes and birds. +He elaborates the details of the first part of the story to such an +extent that he loses sight of the conclusion. The purpose of the story +as explaining the origin of animals remains in his mind, however, and +gives rise to the description of how some of the animals had their +origin as animals (i.e., were cut off from the human society) by being +thrown by the lizard into the forest or into the sea. The legend in +this form may therefore be regarded as giving an alternative +explanation of the separation of the animals from the human society, +the cause of the separation being a great quarrel in which they were +all involved. In other words, human society is only possible if +personal anger be subordinated to the need of good order; the animals +are cut off from human society because they could not live peaceably +together without quarrelling. + +The examination of the variants of the flood-myth has taken us away +from the main argument. In the various stories there are two separable +elements. There is first the explanation of how a disastrous flood or +storm was caused by the non-observance of ritual prohibitions connected +with Biliku (Puluga). This element will have to be considered in +relation to the Biliku myth. There is secondly the account of how +through the flood or storm the birds and fishes became separated from +the human race, and the three regions of the world, as the Andaman +Islander knows it, became established. It is this second element that I +have sought to explain. To repeat the argument, I would hold that it is +really through the loss of the fire that the birds and fishes became +cut off from mankind, and that therefore this element of the legends of +the flood expresses exactly the same notion as the legend of the +catastrophe that followed the discovery of fire. The two groups of +legends result from the way the Andaman Islander feels about the fire +as being the one thing on which the society most completely depends for +its welfare. + +The preceding analysis has shown that the legends relating to the +origin of animals, whether through the action of fire, or by the flood, +serve to express the social value of fire. If this interpretation be +correct we have a close parallel to the explanation of the story of the +origin of night. In both cases, it has been argued, what the legend +really expresses is the way in which a particular phenomenon (fire, in +one case, the alternation of day and night in the other) affects the +life of the society and the sentiments on which that life depends. The +legends of the catastrophe, however, obviously contain another element +of importance, revealing as they do a certain way of thinking about the +animals. This element has not yet been explained. The representation of +the birds, etc., as ancestors is not confined to one particular legend +or group of legends, but runs through them all. Its explanation is +therefore better postponed until we come to deal with the general +features of the mythology, and will then have to be undertaken. + +Let us now turn to the legends that concern Biliku (Puluga) and Tarai +(Deria), which are of capital importance in the Andaman mythology. The +clue to the understanding of them lies in the Andamanese notions about +the weather and the seasons. In the Andaman Islands the year may be +divided into four seasons. There is the cool season lasting from the +beginning of December to the middle of February; immediately following +this is the hot season from February to the middle of May; then comes +the rainy season, from May to the end of September; October and +November constitute a short season to themselves. In the cool season +the weather is uniformly cool; there is very little rain, and storms +are almost unknown; the wind blows uniformly from the N.E. In the hot +season there is little or no rain; the wind is generally N.E., but may +be variable; summer lightning is frequent, but there are no violent +storms except at the very end of the season. During the rainy season, +after a short period of uncertain stormy weather with which it begins, +the wind blows uniformly from the S.W.; it rains heavily, sometimes +every day for weeks together, but violent storms (cyclones) are very +rare. Between the rainy season proper and the cool season there is a +period of six or eight weeks in which the weather is unsettled; the +wind is variable; fine weather alternates with storms that are +sometimes of terrific violence; waterspouts are frequent; it is at this +season that violent cyclonic storms are likely to occur. This season is +called by the Andamanese Kimil (Gumul of Aka-Bea). We have seen in the +last chapter that the word kimil denotes a condition of social danger, +or of contact with the power possessed by all things that can affect +the life and safety of the society. It is obviously in this sense, and +not as meaning “hot,” that it is applied to the season in question, for +the months of October and November are fairly cool, certainly very much +cooler than February and March. We shall find that this is an important +point in connection with the Biliku myth. + +The life of the Andaman Islander is profoundly affected by the +alternation of the seasons. There are, first of all, the violent +cyclonic storms that occasionally occur. Such a storm may uproot the +jungle for miles, making it impassable for years to come, and thus +destroying some of the native hunting grounds. The wind is sometimes so +violent as to tear every leaf from the trees in its path. While the +storm lasts there is danger to the lives of the natives. An old man +recounted to me how on the occasion of a violent cyclone he and the +others of his village took refuge in the sea and on the open shore from +the danger of falling trees, and remained there till the violence of +the storm had abated. The usual name for a cyclone in Aka-J̌eru is +to̱ko-po̱r, i.e. “falling wood” or “falling trees.” Even if all the +natives escape the danger of death or injury, there is still the +extreme fear and discomfort of the experience. If a storm lasts for any +length of time the natives, who are unable or afraid to go out hunting, +have to do without food until it is over. Incidentally the storm may +destroy their huts, canoes, and other property and thus cause loss that +has to be made up by toil. + +The second important effect of the seasons on the life of the +Andamanese is through the food supply. During the cool season, and the +succeeding hot season, a number of vegetable foods, including the very +important roots and some of the most prized fruits, are available. On +the other hand, during these seasons the land animals are in poor +condition. In the hot season, at any rate, lizards, snakes and the +civet-cat are not eaten. Pigs are breeding and are in such poor +condition that often a pig that has been killed is left in the jungle +as being not good enough to eat. The hot season is pre-eminently the +season of honey, which is so abundant that the natives are able to +obtain much more than they can consume. In the rainy season there are +few vegetable foods and very little honey, but on the other hand the +jungle animals are in good condition and flesh food is abundant; fish +are more plentiful in this season than during the dry weather. In the +Kimil season (October and November) the natives add to their food +supply two varieties of grub (the larvæ of the cicada and of a beetle) +which are regarded as great delicacies. Roughly we can say that the +rainy season is the season of flesh food, the Kimil season is the +season of grubs, the cool season is the season of fruits and roots, and +the hot season is the season of honey. + +By reference to the prevailing wind the year may be divided into two +parts, the N.E. monsoon from November to May, and the S.W. monsoon from +May to November. + +I propose to show that the Andaman Islanders express the social value +of the phenomena of the weather and the seasons, i.e., the way these +phenomena affect the social life and the social sentiments, by means of +legends and beliefs relating to the two mythical beings whom they call +Biliku and Tarai. Using the word personification in a sense to be +defined later in the chapter, we may say that the Andamanese personify +the weather and the seasons in the persons of Biliku and Tarai. Biliku +is associated with the N.E. monsoon; she lives in the N.E.; the wind +from that quarter is called “the Biliku wind”; to Biliku, therefore, +belong the cool and the hot seasons, these being the seasons of the +N.E. monsoon. Tarai is associated with the S.W. monsoon; he lives in +the S.W.; the wind from that quarter is called “the Tarai wind,” or, in +Aka-Bea, simply Deria; to Tarai therefore belongs the rainy season. It +is possible to show that the Andaman Islanders associate with these two +beings all the phenomena of the weather and the seasons, and are able +to represent the changes of the latter as though they were the actions +of human or anthropomorphic beings. + +In the mass of beliefs and stories relating to Biliku and Tarai there +are some elements on which there is absolute agreement in all the +tribes of the Great Andaman Division. I propose to treat these as being +the most important elements. There is absolute unanimity, for instance, +as to the connection of Biliku and Tarai with the N.E. and the S.W. +respectively, and with the winds that blow from these two points of the +compass. Further, this belief does not conflict in any way with any +other belief of the Andamanese. There is similar unanimity in the +beliefs that Biliku is angry at the digging up of yams, and at the +melting of bees’-wax. There are other matters on which the agreement is +fairly general but not absolute. For instance, there is a common belief +that it was Biliku who first discovered fire, but there are also +legends as to the origin of fire in which Biliku does not figure. I +propose to treat such elements as these as being of secondary +importance. Finally there are other elements with regard to which the +beliefs of different tribes are not in agreement. For instance, in the +South Andaman Puluga is regarded as male, while in the North Andaman +Biliku is female. I propose to regard such elements as being of only +minor importance, i.e., as not being closely connected with the central +notion or notions expressed in the myth. + +Applying the strict method outlined above, we may begin by noting that +there is complete unanimity in regard to the connection of Biliku and +Tarai with the N.E. and the S.W. respectively, and therefore with the +monsoons. No interpretation of the myth can be adequate unless it sets +out from this fact. The connection is so firmly fixed that it appears +in the names of the winds themselves [211]. Even in this matter of the +winds, however, there is a slight difference in the detail of the +beliefs in different tribes. In the North Andaman it would seem that +only the two principal winds are recognized; the S.W. wind (more +accurately W.S.W.) is called “the Tarai wind” (not, be it noted, “the +wind of Tarai”); the N.E. (or more accurately N.N.E.) wind is called +“the Biliku wind.” These two winds are by far the most important, as +the former blows steadily throughout the rainy season and the latter +blows with almost equal steadiness throughout a good part of the cool +and hot seasons. In the Aka-Bea and Akar-Bale tribes the general belief +seems to be precisely the same as in the North Andaman. Only the two +principal winds are considered to be of importance and one is +associated with Deria and the other with Puluga. In these two tribes, +as in the North Andaman, practically no notice is taken of the +existence of winds from other quarters. In the A-Pučikwar tribe there +is a notable difference, of great importance to the true interpretation +of the legend. There is a dual division of the winds; the S.W. wind is +called Teria; the other winds (of which a number are recognized) are +all called Bilik. Thus Bilik is a generic name for a number of winds, +namely for all the northerly or easterly winds, including not only the +N.E., but also the N.W. and S.E. winds. The S.W. wind is called by a +simple name, Teria, or as it would be better rendered in English “the +Teria.” The other winds are called by compound names such as Me̱tepur +Bilik, Ko̱ičo Bilik, etc., which we can only translate as “the N.E. +Bilik,” “the East Bilik,” etc. + +Two things of importance are shown by the consideration of these facts. +The first is that there is a sense in which it may be said that the +Andaman Islanders personify the winds in the persons of Biliku and +Tarai; they apply to the natural phenomenon a name which is also the +name of a mythological person, and they apply it directly and not in a +possessive form, i.e., they say “the Bilik” or “the Biliku wind” and +not “Biliku’s wind.” The second is that only the S.W. wind is +associated with Tarai and all the other winds are associated with +Biliku. + +The last point is one of considerable importance in the interpretation +of the myth. If we divide the year by reference to the prevailing +winds, then the rainy season, with the exception of its beginning and +its end, belongs to the S.W. wind; the hot season (save its end) and +the cool season may be regarded as belonging to the N.E. wind, though +the wind may be variable in the hot season; there remain two portions +of the year, at the change of the monsoon, when the wind is variable, +which cannot be classified as belonging strictly to the S.W. or to the +N.E. wind. The fact that all these variable winds are denoted in the +A-Pučikwar tribe by the name Bilik shows that in this tribe they are +all classified with the N.E. wind. In this way the year is divided into +two slightly unequal parts, one belonging to Teria or Tarai including +the whole of the rainy season except the end and the very beginning, +the other belonging to Bilik (Biliku) including the Kimil season, the +cool season, the hot season, and even the first few days of the rainy +season. This strict division only appears in the A-Pučikwar tribe, but +it will be shown that an approximation to the same notion is found in +the other tribes. + +There is general agreement in all the tribes in the belief that storms +are due to Biliku or Tarai. Both of them send rain and thunder and +lightning, but whenever mention is made in the legends of a violent +storm it is always Biliku who is mentioned as causing it, and never by +any chance Tarai. Thus, in regard to this matter of storms, it is +evident that Biliku is more important than Tarai, and this is only one +example of the preponderance of Biliku over her consort. This +preponderance will need to be explained as one of the essentials of the +myth [212]. + +We have already seen how the Andaman Islander represents any natural +phenomenon having negative social value as though it were the result of +the action of a person in anger, this being the one anti-social passion +with which he is most familiar in his own life. Thus the withdrawing of +the light of the moon after the full is explained as being due to the +anger of the moon. The negative social value of a violent storm is +obvious. In accordance with the general principles of his mythology the +Andaman Islander therefore explains the storm as being due to the anger +of a personal mythical being. But storms are intimately connected with +the winds, so that it must be Biliku and Tarai (in whom the winds are +personified) who are responsible for the storms. Further, in the +Andamans, violent storms are very rare except at two special periods of +the year, at the change of the monsoon. This gives a further ground of +association with Biliku and Tarai between whom the seasons are divided. +We have seen that in classifying the winds the natives (of one tribe at +any rate) associate with Tarai only the steady S.W. wind which brings +not cyclones and violent storms but steady rain, while all the other +winds are associated with Biliku. If this be so it is clear that a +cyclone, with its wind veering from one quarter to another, must be the +work of Biliku. Further, if the Biliku season be regarded as including +all the periods of variable northerly and easterly winds as well as the +period of the steady N.E., then we can say that it is only in the +Biliku period that violent storms are likely to occur. It is evident +therefore that an examination of the natural phenomena themselves gives +us an adequate reason for the preponderance of Biliku over Tarai in the +legends. This will be made even more evident as we proceed. + +Another law of the Andaman mythology is that a person, such as the +moon, is never angry without cause. There are a number of actions that +are believed by the Andamanese to cause the anger of Biliku; of these +there are three of extreme importance, all the others being certainly +of much less importance. It is necessary, therefore, to examine these +three carefully and find their meaning. + +There is absolute agreement in all the tribes with regard to the belief +that Biliku is angry and sends bad weather when bees’-wax is melted or +burnt. The season of honey is the hot season from February to May. +During the rainy season scarcely any honey is to be found and that only +of the inferior (black) variety. It is clear therefore that honey +belongs particularly to the Biliku portion of the year. During the hot +season honey is abundant and large quantities are collected. As the +natives make use of the wax, and as this is useless till it has been +melted, this is the special season of the melting of bees’-wax. At the +beginning of the season the Biliku wind blows calmly from the N.N.E. As +the season draws to a close the wind becomes variable, uncertain, and +in some years violent storms occur ushering in the rains of the S.W. +monsoon. Year after year the wax-melting season comes to a close in +stormy weather. Now stormy weather and the anger of Biliku are, for the +Andaman Islander, one and the same thing, so that to say that the anger +of Biliku follows the melting of bees’-wax is in one sense simply a +statement of actual observable fact. + +Another belief about which there is absolute unanimity in all parts of +the Islands is that Biliku is angry when certain plants are cut down or +dug up. These plants include some of the most valuable vegetable foods +of the Andamanese, such as the yams and the pith of the Caryota palm. +Amongst the roots and fruits associated with Biliku there are one or +two that were not botanically identified. All of them, however, about +which I was able to obtain any information whatever, are available as +food during the cool and hot seasons, and either not at all or in very +small quantities during the rainy season. On the other hand, of the +vegetable foods that are available during the rainy season, not one is +ever mentioned as being in any way connected with Biliku. Further, +amongst all the foods of the cool and hot seasons only those are +intimately connected with Biliku which begin to be available during the +Kimil season. A few examples may be mentioned. The yams and other +edible roots are not found at all in the rainy season, but the tubers +begin to form in the Kimil season (October and November) and small +quantities of these roots are available for food at that time. By the +time the cool season has set in the roots become abundant, and they +continue to be found until well on into the hot season. All these roots +are regarded as being specially connected with Biliku and are spoken of +as her foods. The same thing applies to the Caryota sobolifera of which +the pith is eaten either raw or cooked. The pith begins to form in the +Kimil season, and this highly prized food is available right through +the cool season. The fruit of the Cycas, which is another of those +belonging to Biliku, also begins to ripen at the beginning of the cool +weather. As regards the Entada scandens, Kurz, in his Burmese Flora, +mentions it as seeding in the “cold season.” I neglected to take note +of the relation of this plant to the seasons, but the statement of Kurz +may be relied on. Thus it is seen that the vegetable foods that are +associated with Biliku are those that begin to be available for food +during the Kimil season and are abundant during the cool season. Now +the Kimil season, which is really the opening of the N.E. or Biliku +monsoon, is the season at which cyclonic storms are likely to occur. +Here again therefore, as in the case of bees’-wax, there is a definite +ground of association in familiar natural phenomena. Year after year, +as these foods begin to ripen and to be eaten, the islands are visited +with stormy weather, sometimes of exceptional violence. When the +Andaman Islander says that the stormy weather which is the sign of the +anger of Biliku follows the digging up of yams and the cutting down of +the Caryota palm or the gathering of the seeds of the Cycas or Entada, +he is stating what is an actual fact. + +The case of these vegetable foods is in one way different from that of +bees’-wax. The melting of the wax goes on for some weeks before the +anger of Biliku is finally aroused, when storms come to punish the +offenders, and the change of season cuts short the supply of honey. In +the case of the roots, etc., it would seem that it is only the first +step that counts. The danger lies in the beginning of the season. Once +the anger of Biliku has burst forth the bad weather ceases, the danger +is past, and weeks of fine weather ensue, during which the natives may +eat freely of the foods in question without fear of consequences. In +this connection considerable importance may be attached to a statement +made to me on more than one occasion, to the effect that the most +efficient way of stopping a storm is to go into the forest and destroy +the plants that belong to Biliku, i.e., do the very things that make +her angry. We may apply this to the events of the Kimil season. The +natives begin to dig up yams and collect other vegetable foods, and +thereupon Biliku becomes angry and stormy weather follows. All that the +natives have to do is to show sufficient persistence in continuing to +eat yams, etc., and the anger of Biliku is bound to subside and the +stormy weather to cease. + +There is a third belief that is generally accepted in all parts of the +Great Andaman, that Biliku is angry if a cicada be killed, or if a +noise be made while the cicada is singing in the morning or the +evening. The interpretation of this belief is made difficult by the +fact that there is also an association between the cicada and the day +and night. Thus Mr Man states that the prohibition against making a +noise at dawn (while the cicada is singing) is associated not with +Puluga but with the sun [213]. + +The grub of the cicada is eaten during the Kimil season, and at no +other time of the year. Here the association is simple enough. The +killing of the cicada (grub) takes place only during a brief season, +and this is the season when cyclones occur. However, the grub of a +beetle is eaten at the same season and yet I never heard of any +connection between Biliku and this other grub. Certainly if there is a +belief in such a connection it is very much less important than the +belief relating to the cicada. Further, there is the belief that if the +imago of the cicada be killed or if a noise be made while the cicada is +singing, Biliku will be angry and will send bad weather, which is +obviously not simply the result of the custom of eating the grub of the +cicada during the Kimil season. + +The relation of the cicada to Biliku is almost certainly due to the +connection of the insect with the seasons. Unfortunately, not then +recognizing the importance of the matter, I did not, while in the +Andamans, take particular note of the relation of the life-cycle of the +cicada to the revolution of the seasons, and I am reluctant to trust to +vague memories of matters to which I did not pay special attention. Mr +Man states, apparently on the authority of a native, that during the +cold and dry seasons the cicada is seldom seen (and is therefore +presumably also seldom heard). What I believe to be the life-cycle of +the insect is as follows. During the rainy season only the adult +insects are to be found. They lay their eggs at some period during the +rainy season, possibly towards the end. In October and November the +eggs have developed into pupæ, and it is these that the natives eat; +but apparently the adult insects, or some of them, still survive at +this time and are to be seen and heard. By about December the last of +the adult insects die out and the grubs have not yet attained the adult +form, so that there is a period during which no adult insects are +either seen or heard. It is probable that the new generation makes its +first appearance in adult form as soon as the first rains of the rainy +season begin. + +The essential point, on which we can base an interpretation of the +myth, is that the cicada is not seen or heard during the fine weather +(December to March). It probably, as stated above, makes its +reappearance just at the period of the stormy weather that ushers in +the rainy season. Similarly, it does not disappear until after the end +of the stormy period of the Kimil season. (I have certainly heard and +seen the insect in October, and to the best of my recollection in +November also.) Thus the cicada is definitely associated with the part +of the year including the rainy season and the two stormy periods at +its beginning and end. I believe that this is the fundamental fact that +explains the Andamanese beliefs about the connection of the insect with +the weather. + +I was told of a ceremony that was held at the end of the Kimil season +in the Akar-Bale tribe (and possibly in other tribes also) the purpose +of which was said to be to ensure fine weather for some months and +which is called “Killing the cicada.” The ceremony consists of doing +the very thing that is believed to produce storms, viz., making a noise +while the cicada is singing in the evening. As soon as the cicadæ begin +to sing all the persons in camp make as much noise as they can by +banging bamboos on the ground, striking the sounding-board, or +hammering on the sides of canoes, thus making just the kinds of noise +that are said to be most disliked by the cicada. According to the +statement of my informant this ceremony results in “killing” all the +cicadæ so that they are not heard again for many weeks, and while this +silence lasts fine weather is assured. The meaning of this little +ceremony is plain when we recall the fact that though the digging up of +yams and the cutting down of the Caryota palm anger Biliku and result +in storms yet sufficient persistence in these actions, and therefore in +any others that are displeasing to Biliku, results in dispelling the +bad weather. Thus it is seen that although the matter is a little more +complicated, yet the belief in the connection of the cicada with Biliku +and with bad weather can be explained on exactly the same lines as the +beliefs about bees’-wax and vegetable foods. The fact that the same +explanation can be given of the three most important prohibitions +connected with Biliku gives a high degree of probability to the +interpretation here offered. These three beliefs are the only ones of +real importance. I am unable to explain the connection of Biliku with +the species of fish, the bird and the two kinds of wood mentioned on +page 156. In the North Andaman there is a definite association between +Biliku and spiders, the generic name for “spider” being biliku. I +believe that this could be explained on the same basis as the +connection with the cicada, i.e., through the connection of spiders +with the changes of the seasons, but as I unfortunately neglected to +take note of the habits of the spiders of the Andamans I cannot speak +with any certainty and therefore prefer not to enter into a discussion +of the subject [214]. + +The explanation that I have to offer of these beliefs relating to +Biliku and to the things that offend her is that they are simply the +statement in a special form of observable facts of nature. The rainy +season comes to an end, the wind becomes variable, yams and other +vegetable products begin to ripen and are used for food, and stormy +weather comes, some years bringing cyclones of exceptional violence. +Then follows a period of steady N.E. winds with fine weather and +abundance of vegetable foods, during which the noise of the cicada is +not to be heard. Then comes the honey season, when everyone is busy +collecting honey and melting bees’-wax. The wind becomes very variable, +storms come, the fine weather comes to an end and the rainy season +begins again. These facts affect the feelings of the Andaman Islander +and he expresses his impressions by regarding all these happenings as +if they were the actions of an anthropomorphic being. The vegetable +products, the cicada, and the honey all belong to Biliku. When the yams +are dug up she is angry, or in other words, storms occur; a storm is +the anger of Biliku. The cessation of the song of the cicada removes +one of the possible causes of the anger of Biliku, and therefore marks +the period of fine weather. That anger appears once more when the +natives busy themselves with melting bees’-wax. + +It may be noted that these beliefs about Biliku give an expression of +the social value of honey and bees’-wax and of vegetable foods such as +yams. The Andaman Islands provide few fruits containing natural sugar. +Yet the natives are inordinately fond of sweet things; they greatly +enjoy the sugar that they now obtain from the Settlement of Port Blair. +Honey, which was almost their only sweet food in former times, was +therefore very greatly valued. Apart from the yams and other foods +associated with Biliku there are very few productions of the Andamans +containing starch in a palatable form. To the native who has been +living during the rainy season almost entirely on meat and fish, the +starchy foods of the stormy season (yams, Caryota, etc.) are of great +value, and they are very highly prized. Thus the foods associated with +Biliku all have a high value. + +We all know how the value of an object is increased if, in order to +obtain it, we have to make some considerable effort or sacrifice, or +put ourselves in danger of some evil. Reversing this mental process, +the Andaman Islander expresses his sense of the value of honey and yams +by the statement that to obtain them he must be prepared to risk the +anger of Biliku with its results. It was shown in the last chapter that +the value of food in general is expressed in the belief that all food +is more or less dangerous to eat, and that ritual precautions must be +observed if the danger is to be avoided. Here in the Biliku myth, we +have a further example of the same sort of mental process, in relation +not to all foods in general but to a few foods of special value. Yet +another example may be given. Roast pork is highly relished by the +natives, and they believe that the roasting of pork offends certain +spirits of the sky and is therefore dangerous [215]. + +Returning now to the subject of Biliku as the sender of cyclones, it is +necessary for the argument, even at the risk of repetition, to show (1) +that this is by far the most important attribute of Biliku, and (2) +that it follows immediately from her connection with the N.E. monsoon. + +Taking the second point first, we may note, in the first place, that +while Tarai is associated with the steady S.W. wind which blows with +very little variation for months at a time, Biliku is associated with +the variable winds of the hot season. Now a characteristic of a +cyclonic storm is the way in which the wind veers from one quarter to +another. Further, as most of the cyclones that cross the Andamans +travel from the south-east in a north-westerly direction, and the +movement of the cyclone is in a counter-clockwise direction, the first +wind of a cyclonic storm when it strikes the islands comes from the +north-east. This may be seen from the accompanying diagram. It is only +at the very end of the storm, when the storm centre has passed, that +the wind blows from the south-west. Thus it is clear that the +association of cyclones with Biliku and not with Tarai is determined by +the nature of the phenomena which the Biliku-Tarai myth sets out to +explain. + +That the most important attribute of Biliku is her connection with the +cyclones is evident when we consider the legends in which she is +mentioned. In most of the legends in which her name occurs [216] she is +spoken of as being angry with the ancestors, and we know that a cyclone +and the anger of Biliku are, for the Andaman Islander, one and the same +thing. In some of the stories mention is made of a great storm that +Biliku sent which nearly destroyed the world. All through the legends +we find her pictured as a being whose anger is to be feared, who has +the power to destroy human life and human property. Tarai is never +mentioned in this way, for the rains of the south-west monsoon +themselves have no such power. + +We are now in a position to compare the characters of Biliku and Tarai +and explain their relative positions in the myth. The reason for the +preponderance of Biliku lies in the fact that it is she who sends +cyclones, while Tarai sends nothing more than heavy showers of rain. +Tarai is never responsible for the destruction of life and property, +whereas Biliku is. Thus the preponderance of Biliku follows from the +essentials of the myth. Secondly, Tarai is constant, ever the same, +whereas Biliku is changeable. The rainy season of one year is exactly +like that of another, and during the time it lasts the weather is +consistent throughout. On the contrary, one year the Biliku season +brings a terrific storm, and another year it is much less violent, +while, from day to day during certain parts of the Biliku season the +weather is unsettled, so that you cannot tell what the morrow will +bring with it. It is obvious that this uncertainty about the actions of +Biliku, the fact that she cannot altogether be reckoned with, would +tend to make her of greater importance in the eyes of the Andamanese +than her consort Tarai. + +Let us now consider the question of the sex of Biliku. On this matter +there is a lack of agreement. In the North Andaman Tarai is declared to +be male and Biliku female. It can readily be shown that this results +from the position of Biliku and Tarai as regulating the seasons. Tarai +rules over the rainy season, in which the chief food is the flesh of +animals of the land and of the sea; it is the business of men to +provide flesh-food. On the contrary Biliku rules over the seasons in +which the chief foods are vegetable products of different kinds; it is +the business of women to provide such foods. It is only men who go out +hunting for pigs or turtle or who harpoon or shoot fish, and it is +always the men who attend to the first part of the cooking of pig, +turtle and dugong; it is the women who dig up the yams and collect the +fruits and seeds, and it is the women also who cook them. There is a +very real sense, then, in which flesh foods may be called the foods of +men, and vegetable foods may be called the foods of women, and, since +flesh foods are the foods of Tarai and vegetable foods are the foods of +Biliku, there is a sound reason for calling Tarai male and Biliku +female. + +This way of thinking of Biliku as female is in harmony with her +character as outlined above. Women (in the Andamans) are notoriously +uncertain, changeable creatures. You can always reckon fairly well what +a man will do, but not so with a woman. Moreover, when the Andaman +Islander wishes to picture to himself a pair of closely associated +beings, it is natural that he should compare them to the most closely +associated couple with which he is familiar,—husband and wife. This +tendency leads him to make the sun and moon man and wife in many of his +legends, and it may well be expected to have its influence on the +Biliku myth also. + +In the South Andaman however, both Puluga and Daria are said to be +male. It can be shown that this view is also appropriate in its way. +The Akar-Bale say that Puluga and Daria were once friends, but have +quarrelled and now live at opposite ends of the earth and are +perpetually renewing their quarrel. Daria has things to himself for a +few months (the S.W. monsoon) and sends his wind; then Puluga makes an +attack on him; some weeks of unsettled weather ensue while they are +fighting, until Daria is beaten and Puluga takes over the control of +the weather and sends the N.E. wind. By and by, however, Daria shows +himself again and there is another quarrel, with its unsettled and +stormy weather, which ends in the defeat of Puluga and the +reinstatement for a period of Daria. Even the bald language in which it +is stated does not quite hide the poetical grandeur of this conception +of the world as the arena of two battling giants in a never-ending +quarrel. Those who have lived through a tropical cyclone with its wind +changing from one quarter to another, its consummate violence, its +sudden onslaught, its pause (that is felt to be merely a pause) as the +centre of the disturbance reaches and passes you, and then its sudden +renewal of the mad combat with the wind coming now from the opposite +quarter, cannot but recognize in the Akar-Bale myth a successful +attempt to describe such a storm in figurative language. + +Such a combat could only be pictured by the Andamanese as taking place +between two men, and the myth in this form therefore necessarily +involves the belief that both Puluga and Daria are male. It is evident, +therefore, that this view has some justification, that it does enable +the Andaman Islander to express the feelings and impressions evoked in +him by the phenomena of the weather. I venture to think, however, that +the southern myth is not quite so satisfactory as the northern one, +does not translate quite so well all the different features of the +natural phenomena with which it deals [217]. + +A most important element of the myth is the connection of Biliku +(Puluga) with fire. In all the tribes there are legends that represent +Biliku as the first possessor of fire, which was, according to some +versions, given by her to the ancestors, and according to others stolen +from her by one of them. There can be no doubt that these legends owe +their origin to the connection between Biliku the storm-sender and +lightning. + +There are several different beliefs about the lightning. According to +one of these the lightning (Ele) and the thunder (Korude) are persons, +who produce the phenomena of the same name. Another belief is that +thunder and lightning are produced by Biliku and Tarai. On the whole, +it would seem that the latter belief is the one which is most +frequently present to the minds of the natives. A man seeing lightning +in the sky will say, according to the season, the prevailing wind, +etc., Biliku čatobom, or Tarai čatobom; “Biliku (or Tarai) is at work.” +There are different accounts, however, of the way in which Biliku makes +the lightning. One belief is that it is a fire-brand flung by her +through the sky; a second is that it is a mother-of-pearl shell (be) +similarly flung; yet a third statement is that she produces the +lightning by striking a pearl shell (be) on a red stone. + +There is no doubt that the Andamanese regard lightning as fire; the +charring of trees struck by it is sufficient to convince them of this. +Thus lightning and the sun are the only two natural fires that they +know. (With the relation of Biliku to the sun I shall deal later.) As +the wielder of lightning Biliku thus becomes the possessor of fire. The +simplest of the different beliefs, the one following immediately from +the natural phenomena, would be, therefore, that which makes the +lightning a fire-brand. This is, on the whole, the one that is most +usually expressed, at any rate in the South Andaman. + +The explanation of lightning as a shell depends not only upon the +pearly lustre of this kind of shell, but also on other features of it. +The shell in question (be) is used by women alone, and its use is +confined to slicing yams and other vegetables in preparing them for +food. Its association with Biliku therefore follows from the view of +Biliku as female and as being especially associated with yams and other +vegetable foods. Granting this fundamental connection, then the +brightness of the shell, its keen edge and the way in which it can be +made to skim through the air, will explain the statement that lightning +is just such a shell thrown by Biliku. In the South Andaman, where +Puluga is regarded as male, this belief about the pearl shell would be +out of harmony with the rest of the myth, and, as we should expect, it +is not found. However, the Aka-Bea word for lightning (be-iŋa, the -iŋa +or -ŋa being a suffix) suggests that they may have had a similar belief +in the past [218]. + +In the North Andaman the two views of lightning as a fire-brand and as +a shell are both held, because they both, in different ways, fit in +well with the rest of the myth. There is yet a third view in which +these two contradictory beliefs are, as it were, reconciled. This is +that Biliku produces lightning by striking a pearl shell against a red +stone. + +In the North Andaman the action of throwing a shell or a fire-brand is +regarded as typical of Biliku; this is the way in which she is pictured +by the native, and in which she would doubtless be portrayed if the +Andamanese had a pictorial art. In the dance described in an earlier +chapter, in which the dancer gave representations of various mythical +beings, Biliku was represented by the dancer holding a shell in his +hand and dancing round threatening to throw the shell at the +spectators. + +The representation of Biliku or Puluga as throwing her lightning in the +form of a fire-brand or a shell appears in several of the legends of +the origin of fire, and in particular in the legend of which different +versions are found in all parts of the islands that tells how the +kingfisher stole fire from Biliku and how the latter flung a fire-brand +or a shell at the thief. + +The most usual form of the fire legend, and the only one that I ever +heard, is that in which the fire is stolen. Mr Man has recorded a +version in which Puluga is represented as giving the fire to the +ancestors. Considerable importance attaches to this motive of the story +as it reveals to us the way in which the Andamanese usually think of +Biliku and of their own relation to her. She is not, so far as these +stories go, a benefactress who by the invention of fire has earned the +gratitude of men, but rather a person with whom the human society, both +in the time of the ancestors and at the present day, is in a condition +of opposition. Though Biliku had fire, yet she kept it for herself and +it was only obtained from her by stealth. She was angry when her fire +was stolen and tried to punish the offender. + +This opposition between Biliku and the ancestors is shown in other +legends. In some of the stories she is represented not as living with +the ancestors, but as living on one side of a narrow strait while the +ancestors lived on the other, as in the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar +legends. She is thus separated from the ancestors in the minds of the +natives. In the Aka-Kede legend the ancestors eat the foods that Bilika +regards as specially belonging to her, and she kills them. As a result +the ancestors join together and kill Bilika. In the Akar-Bale version +something of the same sort appears; Puluga is always getting angry with +the ancestors because they eat vegetable foods, and in his anger he +destroys their huts and other property (as a cyclone does, and as an +Andaman Islander is sometimes known to do in a fit of temper); at last +the ancestors send him away out of the world. In the A-Pučikwar legend +Bilik goes away from the world in anger because the ancestors steal his +fire. In the Aka-J̌eru version Biliku eats up all the food of the +ancestors, and so they go away and leave her; she then destroys them +with her shells (lightning) and finally perishes in an attempt to cross +the sea on a stone. All these legends seem to express much the same +thing in different ways, namely the existence of a condition of +hostility between Biliku and human beings, based on the fact that the +latter venture to make use of the things (yams, etc.) that Biliku +regards as peculiarly her property. There can be no doubt that this is +the usual way in which the Andamanese conceive the relation between +Biliku and the ancestors, and therefore, since the ancestors represent +the society in its beginnings, between Biliku and themselves. This +relation is quite in agreement with what we have seen to be the +essential basis of the myth. The natives obtain from the N.E. monsoon +things highly valued, such as yams and honey, but they are given as it +were grudgingly after a period of storms, and finally taken away in +another period of storms. + +This view of Biliku as hostile to mankind is not, however, absolutely +universal if we are to accept Mr Man’s account of the myths of the +South Andaman. Mr Man describes Puluga as the creator of the world and +the beneficent ruler of mankind. Although I could not find a native who +held exactly the same views about Puluga as those that Mr Man +represents as being the views commonly held in the tribes he studied +(Aka-Bea and A-Pučikwar), yet there is no doubt that at times, and more +particularly in the southern tribes, the natives do regard Puluga as +the benefactor and even the creator of the human race [219]. + +The representation of Biliku as hostile to mankind depends upon her +position as the angry storm-sender, and this, as the legends show, does +seem to be the more usual way of regarding her. But there is another +and contrary aspect of Biliku. The revolution of the seasons brings to +the Andamanese new supplies of relished foods,—the grubs of the Kimil +season, the yams and honey of the cool and hot seasons. One of the +Andamanese names for the season of the N.E. monsoon means “the season +of abundance.” Therefore Biliku, as the personification of this season, +is herself the giver of good things. This aspect finds a partial +expression in the legends. Biliku is regarded as having created or +discovered the use of all the natural productions associated with her. +(In one legend it is Pe̱rǰido, the son of Biliku, who discovers honey +with his mother’s help.) She thus occupies a position similar to that +of the other ancestors, towards whom the men of the present feel +grateful for the benefits they have bestowed on mankind. This view of +Biliku as benefactress is often extended in the North Andaman to the +belief that it was she who invented all the arts now practised by +women, and there are traces of a belief that it was her son Pe̱rǰido who +was similarly responsible for the arts practised by men. + +This view of Biliku as a benefactress, although it conflicts to some +extent with the view of her as on the whole hostile to mankind, yet, +since it springs from the essential basis of the myth, cannot be +overlooked. During the stormy season the Andaman Islander may well +forget every aspect of Biliku save that she is responsible for the +storms of which he goes in fear, but during the fine weather of the +N.E. monsoon, when there is no longer any fear of a violent storm and +when he is enjoying an abundance of the good things that he regards as +especially belonging to Biliku, his feeling towards her must be of a +very different nature; she is then the being who gives him the fine +weather, the relished foods. Thus, contrary though they be, these two +aspects of Biliku are both integral parts of the myth. + +But Biliku is also the first possessor of fire, and we have seen that +fire is regarded by the Andamanese as the source of the life of +society, and therefore, in a way, of all life. Biliku as the source +from which comes the fire is also the source of life. This view of +Biliku is certainly to be found in all parts of the islands, though it +has been developed more in the South than in the North. Biliku thus +becomes responsible for the beginning of the society, and since the +whole universe centres in the society, of the whole universe. She +becomes the being who created or arranged the order in which men live. + +For the honour of this position Biliku has, however, a competitor. +Besides the lightning there is another natural source of fire, the sun. +We find therefore two different (and contrary) developments of the myth +of the beginning of the world. In one of these the sun is associated +with Biliku, is regarded as belonging to her or made by her. For +instance, in an Aka-Kede legend, she is stated to have made the sun by +throwing a flaming brand into the sky. By this means Biliku becomes the +sole source of fire and therefore of life. This is the position that +Puluga occupies in the versions of the legends recorded by Mr Man. In +those legends Puluga gives fire to the first human beings by making the +sun come down to earth and ignite a pile of wood. The alternative +development makes the sun independent of Biliku and it is then the sun, +or a mythical person associated directly with the sun, who becomes the +maker of the world, the source of life. Unfortunately, I did not obtain +much detailed information about this development of the myth. In the +North Andaman the being named Čara is associated with the sun and with +fine weather, and is certainly sometimes regarded as the maker of the +world. In the South Andaman it is Tomo who is associated with the sun. +Men and women, when they die, go to live with Tomo in the sky. It is +Tomo who is responsible for all things being as they are. He was the +first being; it was he who arranged the order of nature; and similarly +it was he who created the social order, so that a question as to why +some custom is observed is often answered by saying that it was Tomo +who made it so. In Mr Man’s account Tomo is degraded to the position of +being merely the first man made by Puluga, but in the accounts that +were given to me by the natives of the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar tribes +Tomo was a rival of Puluga; sometimes one and sometimes the other was +spoken of as being the supreme maker of all things. An Akar-Bale man of +very high intelligence, who had been educated as a Christian, in trying +to explain to me statements about Tomo made by another Akar-Bale who +was regarded as an authority on the legends of his tribe, said that +Tomo was the same thing to the Akar-Bale that God is to the Christian. +When I asked him if it was not rather Puluga who was the Andaman +equivalent of God, he said that some people might think so, but that +according to the old man to whom I was talking it was Tomo and not +Puluga who occupied the position [220]. + +There is only one more point that needs to be discussed, and that is +the connection of Biliku with the spirits. It is clear that Biliku and +Tarai must be distinguished from the spirits (Lau), yet at the same +time Biliku is brought into relation with the spirits by the existence +of two alternative explanations of bad weather. One of the explanations +is that storms are due to Biliku, while the other is that they are due +to the spirits, particularly the spirits of the sea. Both these +beliefs, contradictory as they seem, are held by the Andamanese. The +connection of the spirits with the weather is due to the fact that the +weather is a thing that can limit the activity of the society, and we +saw in the last chapter that there is a tendency to associate with the +spirits of the dead all things that in any way interfere with the +smooth progress of social life. When it is said that a storm can be +stopped by swishing arrows in the sea, or by placing in the sea a piece +of Anadendron creeper, it is to the spirits of the sea, who are afraid +of arrows and of the Anadendron, that the storm is attributed, and not +to Biliku. + +In the A-Pučikwar tribe I found an association of Bilik with the +spirits. One man of this tribe (a medicine-man or dreamer) stated that +the Bilik are a distinct class of spirits, distinct from the Lau and +the J̌urua, yet similar to them. It is the Bilik who control the +weather. Certain men, when they die, become not Lau or J̌urua, but +Bilik. Thus in one of his dreams that he related to me he met and +conversed with the spirit of a deceased friend whom he spoke of as +Boičo Bilik, Boičo having been his name when he was alive. A +medicine-man is able to control the weather through his communication +with the Bilik in dreams. In this tribe therefore we find a doctrine +according to which Bilik is not the name of a single being but of a +class of beings similar in essentials to the other two classes of +spirits. It seemed to me possible that these beliefs are a +comparatively late introduction by some of the medicine-men of the +tribe. The Boičo about whom my informant Tora dreamed seemed to have +had some part in the development of the doctrine. This does not, +however, in the least detract from its value as affording us an insight +into the beliefs of the Andamanese. + +These beliefs clearly spring from an attempt to distinguish from one +another the different northerly and easterly winds, each of the +recognizable winds being regarded as a separate person, and from the +merging together of the two contrary beliefs in the weather as +regulated by spirits and by Bilik and Teria. The general system of +beliefs about spirits as being responsible for all things that may +affect human well-being inevitably leads to the notion that the weather +is controlled by the spirits, and this is implied also in the belief +that a medicine-man (whose power is derived from contact with the +spirits) is also able to influence the weather to some extent. This +doctrine, however, conflicts with the view of the weather and the +seasons as controlled by Biliku and Tarai, who are not spirits but +personifications of natural phenomena. It is perhaps this conflict +between doctrines, both of them important and indeed necessary, that +has led to the elaboration of the peculiar beliefs met with in the +A-Pučikwar tribe. + +I have dealt with most of the more important details of the +Biliku-Tarai myth, and have tried to show that the whole myth is an +expression of the social value of the phenomena of the weather and the +seasons. These phenomena affect the social life in certain definite +ways and thereby become the objects of certain sentiments; these +sentiments are expressed in the legends. Biliku and Tarai are +personifications of the N.E. and S.W. monsoons; as such they are +responsible for the weather; feelings awakened by the weather are +therefore referred to Biliku and Tarai; thus the fear of a cyclone at +certain periods of the year is expressed as a fear of the anger of +Biliku. Since the time when men go in fear of storms is also the time +when they are just beginning to dig up yams and eat them, the myth +connects the anger of Biliku with the digging up of yams, and similarly +in the cases of honey and the cicada. As Biliku is associated with +vegetable foods, and these are things with which women chiefly have to +do, Biliku (in the North Andaman) is regarded as female; Tarai, being +associated with flesh foods, is male; the two are therefore conceived +as wife and husband. As the maker of storms Biliku is responsible for +the lightning and is therefore possessed of fire. She thus comes to be +regarded as the first possessor of fire. This gives rise to stories of +how the ancestors obtained their fire from Biliku, and as she is +generally regarded as being hostile rather than friendly towards +mankind, the stories relate how the fire was stolen from her. But +besides being the maker of storms Biliku is also the dispenser of the +good things of the season of the N.E. monsoon and when this aspect of +the procession of the seasons is prominent before their minds the +natives think of Biliku as a benefactress of mankind. As she is the +possessor of fire, and as fire is the source of the life of the +society, she comes to be regarded as herself the source of life, though +there is an alternative myth that gives this position to a being +associated with the sun. + +Such is a brief outline of the explanation that I have tried to +demonstrate. It may be objected that there are a few important details +and several minor details that I have not explained. To that extent my +explanation is incomplete, but I hope that I have given sufficient +evidence for it to justify us in using it as an integral part of the +explanation of the meaning and function of the Andaman mythology in +general. + +It is not necessary, for the purpose of this chapter, to examine one by +one all the legends recorded. Indeed, there are many details of the +Andaman mythology that I cannot explain, owing simply, I believe, to my +lack of insight into the ways of thought of the natives. The examples +already considered are sufficient for the argument. If the +interpretations given of these be correct we can base on them certain +general conclusions. + +I have explained some of the more important of the legends as being +expressions or statements of the social value of natural phenomena. The +alternation of day and night, for example, affects the life of the +society in a certain definite manner and this gives rise to a certain +way of thinking and feeling about the phenomenon in question. These +thoughts and feelings, however, remain vague and without fixity until +they are formulated and expressed either in the form of some definite +rule of behaviour, such as the prohibition against noise while the +cicada is singing, or in some concrete statement, such as that afforded +by the legend of the origin of night. Similarly the legends relating to +the origin of fire or the saving of the fire during the flood serve to +give definite and permanent form to the vague feelings that result from +the way in which the possession of fire affects the social life. +Finally, I have tried to show that the myths relating to Biliku and +Tarai are nothing but the expression in concrete form of the ideas and +feelings that result from the effects of the weather and the seasons on +the life of the Andaman Islanders. From these examples I now propose to +draw a general conclusion. All the legends, I wish to maintain, are +simply the expression in concrete form of the feelings and ideas +aroused by things of all kinds as the result of the way in which these +things affect the moral and social life of the Andaman Islanders. In +other words the legends have for their function to express the social +values of different objects,—to express in general the system of social +values that is characteristic of the Andaman social organisation. To +justify this general statement it will be necessary to show how it +comes about that these representations are expressed in the form of +myths and legends dealing with the ancestors and with such +anthropomorphic beings as Biliku and Tarai. + +Throughout the myths we meet with examples of what I have called the +personification of natural phenomena. It is now necessary to give a +more exact definition of this term. By it I mean the association of a +natural phenomenon with the idea of a person in such a way that the +characteristics of the phenomenon may be regarded as though they were +actions or characteristics of the person. The simplest form is that in +which the phenomenon itself is spoken of and thought of as if it were +an actual person. Thus the sun and the moon are spoken of as Lady Sun +and Sir Moon. Similarly, in the North Andaman, the night is personified +and is called Lady Night (Mimi Bat). In many cases of personification +however, while the person may or may not possess the same name as the +phenomenon, the latter is said to be produced by the former. Thus, in +the North Andaman, Ele is the name of the lightning, and Ele is spoken +of as a person; yet, if we enquire further, we are told that Ele (the +person) produces the lightning by shaking his leg. A somewhat similar +case is that of Biliku and Tarai. These two beings are said to produce +the winds that blow from the different quarters of the compass. But +when we enquire as to the names of the winds, we find that in the South +Andaman (A-Pučikwar tribe) the S.W. wind is called Teria, and the other +winds are all called Bilik. Thus the name of the person is also used as +the name of the phenomenon of which he is (in the phraseology here +used) the personification. In the North Andaman we find a difference, +the winds being called “the Biliku wind” and “the Tarai wind.” It is +necessary to insist on this translation of the native Biliku bo̱to and +Tarai bo̱to. We should expect, if Biliku were simply a person who +produced the winds, that the latter would be called “the wind of +Biliku,” a possessive form (Biliku ičo bo̱to) being used, but this is +not so, and the phrase habitually used can only be properly translated +“the Biliku wind” just as we might say “the north wind.” Thus, even in +the North Andaman Biliku and Tarai are used as the names of the two +chief winds. + +In all these cases, sun and moon, Biliku and Tarai, etc., I propose to +use the term personification, as being the most convenient and not +liable to be misunderstood after having been carefully defined. We have +now to seek an explanation of this process of personification. A great +deal has been written on the subject of personification in mythology, +and it is therefore not without diffidence that I venture to put +forward an explanation which can only be very briefly stated in this +place and would require for its full exhibition a lengthy psychological +explanation. + +An insight into the process of personification is afforded by +considering our own use of figurative language. We talk of the angry +storm, the raging sea. In such cases we allow ourselves for a moment to +regard the natural phenomenon as if it were a person or the action of a +person, and we do not even trouble distinctly to express the “as if.” +We use such phrases in order to attain a more forcible expression of +our thoughts and feelings. How is it that such expressions succeed in +the purpose for which they are used? + +The reason would seem to be that our knowledge and understanding of +persons is much more intimate than our knowledge of things. The fact +that we are able, by the action of sympathy, to know what persons with +whom we are in contact are feeling, gives us an understanding of them +that we can never reach with inanimate objects. + +In all human society the most important elements of the experience of +the individual are due to his relations with other persons. In the +development of the emotional life of the child, persons intervene at +every turn, and there is thus built up a system of sentiments and +representations which forms the very foundation of the individual’s +affective life. In other words the first organised experience that the +individual attains is all connected with persons and their relations to +himself. This early experience provides a basis on which we may and do +organise later experiences. The perception of the leaping waves and +lashing spray of a sea in tempest arouses in us a vague emotional +reaction, but it is an experience that we have not learned to formulate +exactly. The feeling awakened in us is, so to speak, unclassified, +there is no exact word by which we can express it. We therefore fall +back upon that system of affective experiences that have been +classified, and for which we do have adequate words, and we apply the +word “angry” to the scene before us. At the utterance of the word, with +its appeal to infantile memories and to the long series of experiences +that have been associated with it, the emotion becomes more definite, +if not more intense. We are thus enabled to classify our present +experience, to associate it with past experiences that have been +arranged in our minds in an organised system, and to find a place for +it in that system. + +Applying this to the case of the myths we must first of all note that +the Andaman Islander has no interest in nature save in so far as it +directly affects the social life. Scientific and artistic interest in +nature are products of civilisation. The Andaman Islander has no desire +to understand the processes of nature as a scientist would wish to do, +nor has he any conception of nature as a subject of esthetic +contemplation. Natural phenomena affect him immediately by their +influence on his own life and on the life of his fellows, and are +thereby the source of a number of emotional experiences. In order to +express these he has to make use of that part of his own experience +that is already thoroughly organised, namely, that relating to the +actions of one person as affecting another or as affecting the society. +Only in this way is he able to organise his experiences arising from +the processes of nature, to classify and render definite the vague +impressions that are aroused in him. He interprets nature in terms of +the world with which he is most familiar, the world of persons, being +enabled to do so by the presence within him of a regulated and definite +body of experience which he has derived from his relations with persons +from the time of his first awakening to the consciousness of the +external world. + +There is a parallelism here, as in many other matters, between the +psychological development of the individual and that of the race. The +fundamental need for the child is to learn to accommodate himself to +his environment. In this environment by far the most important objects +are persons—parents and other children—and the first business of the +growing child is to learn to adapt his actions to the requirements of +this intercourse with persons. This is so overwhelmingly important that +the other need (of adapting himself to inanimate objects) is quite +overshadowed by it. The child has to make experiments and observations +upon persons, to learn how they will act. He meets with such a +phenomenon as anger, for example, the anger of a parent, or of another +child, and by means of a succession of experiences he comes to a +satisfactory understanding of this particular thing, and what it means +with reference to himself and his actions. This notion of the anger of +a parent becomes the nucleus around which is organised the experience +of similar phenomena. In play or sometimes in earnest, the child treats +all sorts of inanimate objects and events connected with them as if +they were persons or the actions of persons. By this means, and by this +means alone, he is able to exercise himself in his newly acquired +experience and to extend and organise it yet further. + +In the history of the race the development of society depends upon the +organisation of personal relations. The task of man in primitive +society is therefore similar to the task of the child. The needs of his +life compel him above everything else to devote himself to organising +that part of his experience that relates to the actions of persons upon +one another; all else is subordinated to this supreme need; and just as +the child organises and develops his experience by treating inanimate +objects as if they were persons in such a way that we can hardly tell +if he is in play or in earnest, so primitive man, in exactly the same +way, organises and develops his social experience by conceiving the +whole universe as if it were the interaction of personal forces. + +This explanation of the nature of personification helps us to +understand some of the Andamanese beliefs. Natural phenomena such as +the alternation of day and night, the changes of the moon, the +procession of the seasons, and variations of the weather, have +important effects on the welfare of the society. The latter, in so far +as it is regulated from within, depends on the adaptation of persons to +one another. Men must learn to live in harmony, to sacrifice their own +desires at times to the needs of others, to avoid occasions of giving +offence, and not readily to give way to anger when offence is given. +The Andaman Islander represents this fundamental law of the society as +though it were the fundamental law of the whole universe. When any evil +befalls the society it is as though some personal power were in +question, as though some one were angry at some offence. Thus the moon +and Biliku are represented as persons who can be offended and whose +anger has unpleasant results. Conversely when all goes well it is +because there is harmony or solidarity between men and the nature +beings which affect men’s lives. In a word, the forces with which the +Andaman Islander is most familiar as affecting his welfare are those of +solidarity and opposition; it is solidarity that maintains the harmony +of social life, opposition that destroys it. The forces of nature in so +far as they affect the society are therefore represented as being of +the same nature; there can be either solidarity or opposition between +men and nature; the former leads to well-being, the latter to +misfortune. + +Thus the personification of natural phenomena is one of the methods by +which the Andaman Islander projects into the world of nature the moral +forces that he experiences in the society. The process is essentially +similar to that described in the last chapter in connection with the +ceremonial, save that there the forces we were considering were largely +impersonal. Perhaps, rather than speaking of it as a projection of +moral forces into nature, we should regard it as a process of bringing +within the circle of the social life those aspects of nature that are +of importance to the well-being of the society, making the moon and the +monsoons a part of the social order and therefore subject to the same +moral forces that have sway therein. + +The personification of natural phenomena is not, however, the only +method by which their social value can be expressed. The Akar-Bale +legend of the origin of day and night, as we saw at the beginning of +the chapter, expresses the social value of the alternation of light and +darkness by means of a story of how it originated in the time of the +ancestors. If we seek to understand all that this legend means we must +ask why the Andaman Islanders believe in the existence of the +ancestors, and why they attribute to them the characteristics that are +exhibited in the stories they tell about them. The ground of the belief +in the ancestors is to be found in the existence of a sentiment +fundamental in all human society, which I shall call the feeling of +tradition. When an Andaman Islander is asked the question “Why do you +do so and so?” he very frequently replies “Because our fathers did so +before us.” This answer expresses in its simplest form the feeling of +tradition. In all his actions, in the way he obtains and cooks his +food, in the way in which he makes his various implements and weapons, +in the moral and ritual customs that he is required to observe, the +native acts in accordance with tradition. If he should ever feel +inclined to deviate from it he finds himself in conflict with a +powerful compulsive force. In tradition, therefore, the individual is +aware of a force stronger than himself, to which he must submit whether +he will or not. Further, he is aware that the power which he possesses, +as a member of the society, whereby he is able to face the hostile or +at best indifferent forces of nature and provide himself with food and +maintain himself in security and happiness, is not simply a product of +his own personality, but is derived by him from the past. Towards this +past, therefore, on which his own life so obviously depends, he feels a +grateful dependence. So long as he acts in conformity with tradition he +can enjoy safety and happiness, because he is relying on something much +greater than his own qualities of mind and body. + +To put the matter in a few words, the individual finds himself in +relation with an ordered system—the social order—to which he has to +adapt himself. The two chief moments in his affective attitude towards +that order are his sense of his own dependence upon it and of the need +of conforming to its requirements in his actions. It is this,—his sense +of his own relation to the social order,—that the Andaman Islander +expresses in the legends about the ancestors, which recount how that +order came into existence as the result of actions of anthropomorphic +beings. + +Some of the legends recount the invention of weapons or implements or +the discovery of the uses of natural objects. In one of the North +Andaman stories it is said that all the weapons and implements now used +by men were invented by the first man, whose name, J̌utpu, probably +means “alone,” i.e., the man who was at first by himself. This first +man made himself a wife from the nest of the white ant. The regulated +society of the ants, and the numerous population that a nest contains, +give this story its symbolic meaning. + +Besides what may be called general culture legends, of which the story +of J̌utpu is an example, there are several special culture legends +relating to various discoveries and inventions, such as the tale of how +the use of yams for food was first discovered, or that which tells how +the monitor lizard discovered quartz and scarified himself with it. By +means of these legends the Andaman Islander expresses his sense of his +own dependence on the past. He pictures a time when the social order as +it now is had not begun, or was just beginning; the knowledge he now +possesses was then being acquired, the weapons he uses were being +invented, the moral and ritual laws that he obeys were in process of +being formulated. + +It is obvious that the Andaman Islander cannot regard the ancestors as +being persons exactly like himself, for they were responsible for the +establishment of the social order to which he merely conforms and of +which he has the advantage. He says, therefore, that they were bigger +men than himself, meaning by this that they were bigger mentally or +spiritually, rather than physically, that they were endowed with powers +much greater than those even of the medicine-men of the present time. +This explains the magical powers that are attributed to many, or indeed +to all, of the ancestors; the belief in the existence in the past of +men or beings endowed with what we may almost call supernatural powers +is the inevitable result of the way in which the man of to-day feels +towards the men of the past on whose inventions and discoveries he is +dependent for his daily nourishment [221]. + +Besides the social order there is another, the order of nature, which +is constantly acting upon the social order. To this also the individual +has to adapt himself, and his knowledge of how to do so is equally +derived from the past. The order of nature only affects him through the +social order, and the two therefore necessarily seem to him merely two +parts of one whole,—the order of the universe. In the legends he tells +how not only the social order but also the order of nature came into +existence; an example is the story of the origin of night. + +The Andaman Islander finds himself in an ordered world, a world subject +to law, controlled by unseen forces. The laws are not to him what +natural laws are to the scientist of to-day, they are rather of the +nature of moral laws. He recognizes only one meaning of the word right +and of the word wrong; right action is that which is in conformity with +law, wrong action is that in opposition to the law; it is wrong to give +way to anger, it is wrong to kill a cicada, or to have a bright light +in camp when the moon is rising in the third quarter, and it is wrong +also to try and use unsuitable material for an implement or weapon. +Wrong actions always lead to harm; if you use unsuitable wood for your +bow it will break and your labour be wasted; if you kill a cicada it +will rain heavily; if you give way to anger readily you will earn the +dislike of your fellows that may some day lead to your undoing. Right +and wrong mean acting in accordance with the laws of the world or in +opposition to them, and this means acting in accordance with or in +opposition to custom. Custom and law are indeed here two words for the +same thing. + +The forces of the world, as the Andaman Islander conceives them, are +not the blind mechanical forces of modern science: rather are they +moral forces. Their action upon human beings is not only to be +witnessed in external events, but is to be experienced in the man’s own +consciousness or conscience. He feels within himself their compulsion +when he would run counter to them, and their support when he leans upon +them. The law of the world, then, is a moral law, its forces are moral +forces, its values moral values; its order is a moral order. + +This view of the world is the immediate and inevitable result of the +experience of man in society. It is a philosophy not reached by painful +intellectual effort, by the searching out of meanings and reasons and +causes; it is impressed upon him in all the happenings of his life, is +assumed in all his actions; it needs only to be formulated. And the +argument of this chapter has been that it is as the expression or +formulation of this view of the world as an order regulated by law that +the legends have their meaning, fulfil their function. + +The legends of the Andamanese then, as I understand them, set out to +give an account of how the order of the world came into existence. But +the Andaman Islander has no interest in any part of it except in so far +as it affects his own life. He is interested in the procession of the +seasons or the alternation of day and night, or the phases of the moon, +only in so far as these things have effects upon the community. In +other words he is interested in natural phenomena only in so far as +such phenomena are really parts of the social order. This I have +expressed earlier in the chapter by saying that the legends deal not +with all aspects of natural phenomena but only with their social +values. + +A fundamental character of the natural order (as of the social order) +is uniformity; the same processes are for ever repeated. This character +of nature the legends take for granted; they assume that if a force is +once set into action it will continue to act indefinitely. They assume +also a period in which the present order did not exist. Anything that +happened in that period has gone on happening ever since. One of the +ancestors discovered how to cook yams, and men have been cooking yams +in the same way down to the present day. A cicada was crushed and cried +out and the night came, and since then the darkness has come every +evening as soon as the cicada sings. In one of the legends the tree +lizard was quarrelsome, and has remained so. Thus the legends represent +the social order, including such natural phenomena as may be said to +belong to it, as being due to the interaction of forces of a special +character that came into existence in the beginning and have continued +to act uniformly ever since. In this way they express two most +important conceptions, that of uniformity (or law) and that of the +dependence of the present on the past. + +It is the need of expressing these two conceptions that gives the +legends their function. They are not merely theoretical principles but +are both intensely practical. The law of uniformity means that certain +actions must be done and others not done if life is to run smoothly; +any deviation from uniformity in conduct is dangerous as being contrary +to the law that regulates the universe. What actions are to be done and +what are to be left undone was determined once for all in the past when +the present order came into existence. The knowledge of what to do and +what to avoid doing is what constitutes the tradition of the society, +to which every individual is required to conform. + +The legends, then, set out to express and to justify these two +fundamental conceptions. They do so by telling how the social order +itself came into existence, and how, also, all those natural phenomena +that have any bearing on the social well-being came to be as they are +and came to have the relation to the society that they possess. + +One group of facts that have an obvious relation to the society +consists of the geographical features of the islands. The more notable +features of the part of the country in which a man lives, and which he +regards as his own, are intimately connected with his moral sentiments. +His attachment to his group necessarily involves an attachment to the +country of the group. The same sort of thing exists amongst ourselves. +This attachment of the members of a group to their own country +explains, I think, the part played by what may be called “local +motives” in the legends of the Andamanese. Such motives are of +considerable importance, of much more importance than would appear from +the stories that I have transcribed. The recent changes in their mode +of life have had far more influence on the local organisation of the +tribes than on any other part of their social organisation, and this +has not been without its effect on the legends. We may say, briefly, +that the local motives of the legends serve to express the social +values of localities. In general each locality has its own versions of +the legends, in which the events related are supposed to have taken +place at some spot or other in the neighbourhood. Thus all the more +prominent features of a locality are associated with the events of the +legends. In some cases tales are told that explain these features as +having come into existence when the ancestors were alive; a reef of +rocks was formerly a canoe, for instance. A few such legends were +recorded in an earlier chapter, but it is probable that there were a +vast number of similar tales that I did not hear. In some cases a +locality has a special social value and therefore a special place in +the legends. Thus Wota-Emi was the great meeting-place for the natives +who lived on Baratang and on parts of the South Andaman and the Middle +Andaman, and was also sometimes visited by the natives of the +Archipelago. Consequently Wota-Emi is represented in the legends of the +A-Pučikwar tribe as being the great meeting-place or dwelling-place of +the ancestors. The effect of these associations between the places with +which he is familiar and the events of the legendary epoch in the mind +of the Andaman Islander probably is similar to the effect on ourselves +of the historical associations of our own country; they serve to make +him aware of his attachment to his country or to express his sense of +that attachment. + +There still remains a most important feature of the legends which has +not yet been explained, namely the position of the animals as +ancestors. Many of the actors in the legends bear the names of animals +but at the same time are spoken of as though they were human beings. +Many of the legends explain how some species of animal arose from some +one of the ancestors who became an animal and the progenitor of the +species. Thus, in the North Andaman, Kolo was one of the ancestors; he +made wings for himself out of palm-leaves, and so was able to fly; he +lived a solitary life in his home at the top of a tree, and was in the +habit of stealing men’s wives; in the end he became the sea-eagle, and +this species still bears the name kolo. It is necessary to define as +exactly as possible what meaning these stories have to the natives. It +is not simply that the legendary person is a man with the name and some +of the characteristics of an animal; nor is it simply that the +legendary person is the ancestor of the species of which he bears the +name. We can only adequately express the thought of the Andamanese by +saying that he regards the whole species as if it were a human being. +When, in the legends, he speaks of “Sea-eagle” he is thereby +personifying the species in the sense in which the word personification +has been used throughout this chapter; he is regarding the +characteristics of the species as if they were characteristics or +actions or results of actions of a person. Admittedly this is a vague +description, but the vagueness is in the mental phenomenon described; +the Andamanese do not, in this matter, think clearly and analyse their +own thoughts. However, we can help ourselves to understand their +thoughts by recalling the tales that amused us as children, in which +the fox or the rabbit of the tale was an embodiment of the whole +species. + +The part played in the legends by any particular animal is determined +either immediately or indirectly by its observable characteristics. +Thus the connection of the kingfisher with fire is due to the fact that +he is a fish-eating bird, and that he has a patch of bright red +feathers, red being, in the Andamanese mind, always associated with +fire. The other birds that are mentioned in the different versions of +the fire legend either possess remarkable plumage (as the dove, and the +parrot) or are fish-eating birds. The Andamanese regard fish as the +fundamental human food, having only one word for “food” and “fish,” and +they never eat their fish raw as the kingfisher does. In the Akar-Bale +story of the origin of the animals the tree lizard is characterised by +his quarrelsomeness, and by the fact that he is very difficult to catch +hold of; these are both actual characteristics of the animal itself. +The crab appears in the same legend as a person with a very powerful +grip, and with a hard shell to his body. The monitor lizard has his +place in the legends determined by the fact that he can climb trees, +run on the ground and swim in the water, and is thus equally at home at +the top of the trees, on the ground, or in the creek. I have already +given this as one of the reasons why he is chosen as the first ancestor +of all the animals and of human beings. The lizard also seems to be +regarded by the Andamanese as a particularly libidinous animal, and is +therefore regarded as the inventor of sexual intercourse and of +procreation. Why he should have this sexual reputation I do not know +[222]. The tale of how the lizard invented scarification depends on the +fact that the marks on the lizard’s skin bear a strong resemblance to +the marks that the natives make on their own skins with sharp fragments +of quartz. The position of the Paradoxurus or civet-cat in the stories +in which she appears is due to the fact that while she can live in the +trees or on the ground she cannot swim; hence, when the flood came, she +fled from the water and climbed a steep hill and thus kept the fire +alight. In the light of these examples we are justified, I think, in +assuming that in all cases, even when the meaning is not clear, the +part played by any animal in the legends is due to some actual +characteristic of it. + +There is thus a parallelism between the personification of natural +phenomena and the personification of animal species. I have shown that +the characteristics of such beings as Biliku and Tarai are all to be +explained by a consideration of the actual characteristics of the +phenomena of which they are the personification (the winds) and of the +phenomena immediately connected therewith. The same thing has now been +shown to be true with regard to the personified animals. The process of +personification is carried out in exactly the same way in the two +different classes of cases. I gave as the reason for personifying +natural phenomena the fact that in this way, and in this way only, the +Andaman Islander is able to express the sentiments that are aroused in +him by them. We must see if we can justify the personification of +animals by a similar argument. + +The habits of observation fostered in the mind of the Andaman Islander +by his method of winning his sustenance lead him to take a lively +interest in all the creatures of the jungle and the sea, about whose +ways he therefore has a great store of knowledge. Every tree and plant +of the forest, every bird and insect, every creature that lives in the +sea or on the reef has its name. His interest, however, in the case of +many of the animals has little or no relation to practical life, for he +does not make use of them for food or in any other way. There is here +therefore something that contradicts the fundamental assumption of the +philosophy that is expressed in the legends, there is a lack of mental +unity. These interests in the birds and insects are not correlated with +the central mass of interests that control the Andamanese mind and give +it its unity. Although his philosophy assumes that everything in which +he takes an interest has some meaning in reference to his own life, yet +here are things that at first sight have no such meaning. The +correlation that is lacking in his experience is brought about by means +of the legends; a meaning is provided for the apparently meaningless. +The fundamental interest of the Andaman Islander, as of all men in +primitive societies, is his interest in persons and personal relations. +By regarding the animals as persons and relating stories about them he +is able to correlate his interest in them with the fundamental basis of +his mental life. + +This explanation does not perhaps sound very satisfactory. We do not at +present understand the forces that compel the normal mind to strive +after unity in its experience. Let us examine the matter a little more +closely. All the thoughts and feelings of the Andaman Islander (or at +any rate all those that are expressed in the legends) centre in the +society; for him the world is merely a stage on which the social drama +is perpetually enacted. He coordinates all his thoughts, emotions, and +interests around the society, and in the legends he builds up a picture +showing the connection between the society and those phenomena of +nature that affect it. The majority of the animals (the birds, the +insects, and innumerable kinds of fish), not being used for food, or in +any other way, bear no apparent relation to the social life. Yet by +reason of the woodcraft developed by the necessities of his life he is +compelled to take notice of these creatures and to become interested in +their ways. Here, therefore, are two conflicting elements in his +consciousness, (1) his belief that the whole of nature derives its +meaning and interest from its relation to the society, and (2) his +consciousness of an alien world (of the birds, etc.) which seems to +have no direct relation to the society, and which nevertheless he +cannot help being constantly aware of. The Andaman Islander, as I have +stated more than once, does not possess any scientific or abstract +interest in nature. He never asks himself “What is the meaning of +this?” in the same way that a scientist of our own civilisation might +do. He asks “What is the meaning of this thing in relation to me and my +interests and feelings, and to the social life of which my life is a +fragment?” It is because he does feel the need of answers to questions +of this kind that the conflict we have noticed arises. This conflict +has to be resolved, and there are apparently three alternatives: (1) to +admit that there is a meaning in nature apart from its relation to the +society, (2) to refuse to take any interest in birds and insects, (3) +to explain away the apparent lack of relation. It is this third +alternative that is chosen by the Andaman Islander, and there are +obvious reasons why it should be so. The explanation is accomplished in +a direct and simple manner. In the beginning men and animals were one; +then came an event or series of events (the discovery of fire, the +great flood, or a great quarrel amongst the ancestors) whereby the men +and the animals became cut off from one another, to live henceforward +in the same world, but separated by an unseen barrier. + +The argument may be put in another way that may perhaps be more +convincing. The actual sentiment that is aroused in the mind of the +native by the animals is that here is an important and interesting part +of the universe that is alien to him, from which he is cut off in some +strange way. It is this real sentiment, itself the inevitable result of +his life and his surroundings, that is expressed in the belief in the +animals as ancestors. + +If this explanation be correct we should expect to find that the +animals that figure in the legends are those that have no immediate +social value either as food or in any other way, while on the other +hand the animals that are used for food will not appear in the legends, +or will occupy therein a very different place from the others. The only +land animal that is regularly used for food is the pig. It is therefore +a confirmation of the explanation that we find that the pig is never +under any circumstances regarded as one of the ancestors, that is to +say, is never personified in the same way that other animals are. One +legend about the pig [223] explains, not how the animal came into +existence (that seems to be assumed), but how it acquired its senses. +Another legend [224] tells how the civet-cat persuaded some of the +ancestors to play a game in which they pretended to be pigs, and they +were turned into these animals. Here we are clearly dealing with +something different from the ordinary process of personification, for +we have not one ancestor in whom the species is personified, but a +number of persons who were suddenly changed from men and women into +pigs by the magical performance of the civet-cat. In the sea there are +several animals that are regularly used for food. The dugong is spoken +of as an ancestor in an Akar-Bale legend, but in the North Andaman +there is a story of how the dugong originated from a pig that Pe̱rǰido +tried to roast without first disembowelling it and cutting the joints +of its legs. There is also in the North Andaman a story of how turtles +originated [225]. The existence of these legends shows that the pig, +the turtle and the dugong occupy a different position in the minds of +the Andamanese from that of the other animals. This serves, in some +measure, to confirm the explanation given above. + +We may briefly consider what may be regarded as a kind of negative +instance by which to test the argument. The world of the stars +constitutes a part of the universe just as alien, just as devoid of +apparent meaning as that of the birds. We may ask therefore how it is +that the Andaman Islanders have no star myths of the kind that are +common in other primitive societies. The answer is, I think, that the +Andamanese do not have their attention called to the stars. As their +camps are in the dense forest there are very few occasions on which +they see the sky at night. When fishing at night on the reefs or in +canoes they are too busy to pay much attention to the stars. They have +not learnt to relate the procession of the stars and the change of the +seasons, nor have they learnt to tell the time at night from their +declination. Their navigation is only along the coast and they have +therefore no use for the stars as guides of direction. On the contrary, +wherever we find a developed star-mythology we find that the stars are +studied either as guides to navigation or journeying overland, or as +giving indications of the changes of the seasons. + +We have considered all the more important aspects of the subject matter +of the legends; it remains for us to turn to the form and enquire how +it comes about that the representations which analysis reveals are +expressed in just the way they are, in a word, why the expression takes +the form of a story. It is obvious that in this place no attempt can be +made to deal with the general problems of the psychology of +story-telling. All that I wish to do is to point out one or two reasons +why the legend is an appropriate form (perhaps we might say, the only +possible form) for the expression of the view of the world that is +revealed in the Andaman mythology. + +The Andamanese, like other savages, have not acquired the power of +thinking abstractly. All their thought necessarily deals with concrete +things. Now the story form provides a means of expressing concretely +what could otherwise only be put in an abstract statement. (A large +part of the interpretation of the legends, as here undertaken, consists +in restating the content of the legends in abstract terms.) Moreover, +even if the Andaman Islanders were capable of thinking abstractly, yet, +since what they need to express are not thoughts so much as feelings +(not intellectual so much as affective processes), they would still +need a concrete form of expression. For it is a familiar fact that the +concrete has a much greater power of awakening or appealing to our +feelings than has the abstract. In particular the story has ever been a +popular medium by which to appeal to sentiments of all kinds. + +The chief ground for the interest in stories shown by children and by +savages is, I believe, that they afford the means of exercising the +imagination in certain specific directions and thereby play an +important part in enabling the individual to organise his experience. +The course of the development of the human mind (from childhood to +adolescence, and from the earliest human ancestor to ourselves) depends +upon or involves the existence at certain stages of growth (and to a +certain extent throughout the whole process) of a conscious egoistic +interest. Mankind, to develop what we call character and conscience, +must learn to take a conscious interest in himself, in his own actions, +and their motives. The development of this self-consciousness in +children is a process of great interest to the psychologist and has +already been studied in an imperfect fashion. You have only to watch a +child playing a game in which he or she enacts some imaginary part to +see how such games afford a means by which the child develops and +widens his interest in himself. Children, and many grown-up people +(particularly during conditions of lessened mental activity), indulge +in what are called daydreams, which take the form of an imaginary +succession of adventures of which the dreamer is always the hero. The +character of daydreams is that they are always frankly egoistic and +boastful. Now this sort of interest in stories is found in the +Andamanese, though not in the legends. At the end of a day a group of +Andamanese may often be seen seated round a fire listening while one of +them recounts adventures. The narration may be merely an exaggerated +account of real happenings, but is more often purely fictitious. The +narrator will tell, with few words, but with many expressive gestures, +how he harpooned a turtle or shot a pig. He may, if his hearers are +content to remain and listen, as they sometimes are, go on killing pig +after pig for an hour or two together. The point to be noted is that +these tales are always frankly egoistic and boastful, and it is for +this reason that they may well be compared with the daydreams of the +more civilised. + +Besides this egoistic interest in stories there is another that is +closely connected with it in origin and function. The necessities of +social life, particularly in childhood and in primitive societies where +a small number of people are constantly reacting upon one another, +involve an intense degree of interest in persons and personal +qualities. This interest is aroused and fostered by the constant play +of personal forces in the social life. Its strength accounts, I +believe, for the power of appeal to sentiments that is possessed by +stories. + +It is a commonplace that in many forms of play the child or the adult +(and it is also true of animals) exercises faculties that are important +parts of the system of habits or dispositions by which the individual +adapts himself to his surroundings. We may regard the interest in +stories as similar to play-interests in general. Life in society +requires the individual to develop a faculty of what may be called +character-estimation, whereby he may judge the motives that are likely +to influence the conduct of another person. I have myself noticed that +savages such as the Andaman Islanders and the Australian aborigines are +as a rule good judges of character. They can quickly estimate how to +adapt their conduct and conversation to the character of a person they +meet for the first time. They are often excellent mimics, being able to +imitate exactly the tone of voice or manner of walking or any other +idiosyncrasy of a person whom they have only seen for a short time. I +believe, then, that the legends of the Andamanese may be regarded as a +means whereby they give exercise to their interest in human character, +just as in other kinds of play they exercise other interests and +faculties that are integral parts of their adaptation to their +environment. By means of the personification of natural phenomena and +of species of animals, and through the assumption of the existence of +the ancestors and their times, they are able to develop a special kind +of unwritten literature, which has for them just the same sort of +appeal that much of our own literature has for us. Doubtless it is not +a very polished form of art; the characterisation that it exhibits is +simple and even crude; the story is not told very skilfully, and indeed +the story-teller relies much on his use of expressive gesture to convey +his meaning; nevertheless it does fulfil amongst the Andamanese the +same sort of function that more developed literary art does in +civilised society. + +There remains one other matter to be dealt with briefly. I have pointed +out on several occasions that the legends contain inconsistencies. Some +of these only appear when the real meaning of the legend is discovered, +but others are on the surface. It is clear that the Andamanese do not +always apply to their legends the laws of logical consistency. It must +not, however, be supposed that they are equally illogical in other +matters, for this is not so. In matters of everyday practical life the +Andamanese show just as much sound commonsense as the inhabitants of a +civilised country. They are excellent observers of natural phenomena +and are capable of putting their observations to practical use. In any +attempt to explain their mythology, therefore, it is necessary to show +why in this sphere they do not apply their powers of reasoning. We can +understand this when we recall the purpose of the legends as here +described, which is, not to give rational explanations, but to express +sentiments. When there are two alternative rational explanations of a +phenomenon between which we cannot definitely choose we say that either +one or other is probably true. In those mental processes in which the +purpose is to find a symbolic expression for sentiments or desires, the +either-or relation is inadmissible owing to the very nature of the +thought-process itself. If two expressions of the same sentiment are +present, both equally adequate, we must either reject one of them or by +making use of both on different occasions admit the possibility of +inconsistency. Where the inconsistency becomes more or less obvious we +expect the reason to step in and insist that a choice shall be made. +But a mind intent on expressing certain feelings, faced with two +alternative and equally satisfactory but inconsistent symbols, will +hesitate to choose between them even at the command of the desire for +logical consistency. It will cling as long as possible to both of them. +This is just what the Andaman Islander seems to do in his mythology. +The view of lightning as a person who shakes his leg seems to express +in some way certain notions of the natives about the lightning. The +alternative explanation of lightning as a fire-brand thrown by Biliku +also satisfies in some way his need of expressing the impressions that +the phenomena make upon him. In spite of the inconsistency he clings to +both symbols as best he can. + +The very existence of inconsistencies of this kind proves without any +doubt that the mental processes underlying the legends of the +Andamanese are not similar to those that we ourselves follow when we +attempt to understand intelligently the facts of nature and of life, +but rather are to be compared to those that are to be found in dreams +and in art,—processes of what might conveniently be called symbolic +thought. It would perhaps hardly be necessary to point this out were it +not that many ethnologists still try to interpret the beliefs of +savages as being the result of attempts to understand natural facts, +such as dreams, death, birth, etc. Such writers assume that the savage +is impelled by the same motive that so strongly dominates themselves, +the desire to understand,—scientific curiosity—and that such beliefs as +animism or totemism are of the nature of scientific hypotheses invented +to explain the facts of dreaming and of death on the one hand and of +conception and birth on the other. If this view of the nature of +primitive thought were correct it would be impossible to conceive how +such inconsistencies as those that we meet with among the Andamanese +could be permitted. On the view that the myths of primitive societies +are merely the result of an endeavour to express certain ways of +thinking and feeling about the facts of life which are brought into +existence by the manner in which life is regulated in society, the +presence of such inconsistencies need not in the least surprise us, for +the myths satisfactorily fulfil their function not by any appeal to the +reasoning powers of the intellect but by appealing, through the +imagination, to the mind’s affective dispositions. + +The thesis of this chapter has been that the legends are the expression +of social values of objects of different kinds. By the social value of +an object is meant the way in which it affects the life of the society, +and therefore, since every one is interested in the welfare of the +society to which he belongs, the way in which it affects the social +sentiments of the individual. The system of social values of a society +obviously depends upon the manner in which the society is constituted, +and therefore the legends can only be understood by constant reference +to the mode of life of the Andamanese. + +The legends give us in the first place a simple and crude valuation of +human actions. Anger, quarrelsomeness, carelessness in observing ritual +requirements are exhibited as resulting in harm. This is the moral +element of the stories strictly so called, and is to be observed in +many of them. The young men who failed to observe the rules laid down +for those who have recently been through one of the initiation +ceremonies were turned to stone. The quarrelsomeness of the lizard led +to the ancestors being turned into animals. The bad temper of one of +the ancestors resulted in darkness covering the earth, or in a great +cyclone in which many were destroyed. + +Secondly, the legends as a whole give expression to the social value of +the past, of all that is derived from tradition, whether it be the +knowledge by which men win their sustenance, or the customs that they +observe. In the wonderful times of the ancestors all things were +ordered, all necessary knowledge was acquired, and the rules that must +guide conduct were discovered. It remains for the individual of the +present only to observe the customs with which his elders are familiar. + +The legends of a man’s own tribe serve also to give a social value to +the places with which he is familiar. The creeks and hills that he +knows, the camping sites at which he lives, the reefs and rocks that +act as landmarks by reason of any striking feature they may present, +are all for him possessed of a historic interest that makes them dear +to him. The very names, in many cases, recall events of the far-off +legendary epoch. + +Again, many of the legends express the social value of natural +phenomena. By reference to Biliku and Tarai, for instance, the native +can express what he feels with respect to the weather and the seasonal +changes that so profoundly affect the common life. Finally, in the +legends he is able to express what he feels about the bright plumaged +birds and the other creatures with which he is constantly meeting in +the jungles, which are a source of perennial interest, and are yet so +clearly a part of the world cut off from himself and his life, having +no immediately discernible influence upon his welfare. + +This system of social values, or rather this system of sentiments, that +we find expressed in the legends is an essential part of the life of +the Andamanese; without it they could not have organised their social +life in the way they have. Moreover the sentiments in question need to +be regularly expressed in some way or another if they are to be kept +alive and passed on from one generation to another. The legends, which +are related by the elders to the young folk, are one of the means (the +various ceremonial customs analysed in the last chapter being another) +by which they are so expressed, and by which their existence is +maintained. + +Although the term “social value” has been used as a convenient +expression, yet the meaning of the legends might be expressed in other +ways. We may say, for instance, that they give a representation of the +world as regulated by law. The conception of law which they reveal is +not, however, that to which we are accustomed when we think of natural +law. We may perhaps adequately state the Andaman notion by saying that +moral law and natural law are not distinguished from one another. The +welfare of the society depends upon right actions; wrong actions +inevitably lead to evil results. Giving way to anger is a wrong action, +as being a cause of social disturbance. In the legends the catastrophes +that overwhelmed the ancestors are in many instances represented as +being caused by some one giving way to anger. There is a right way and +a wrong way to set about making such a thing as a bow. We should +explain this by saying that the right way will give a good serviceable +weapon, whereas the wrong way will give an inferior or useless one. The +Andaman Islander tends to look at the matter from a different angle; +the right way is right because it is the one that has been followed +from time immemorial, and any other way is wrong, is contrary to +custom, to law. Law, for the Andaman Islander, means that there is an +order of the universe, characterised by absolute uniformity; this order +was established once for all in the time of the ancestors, and is not +to be interfered with, the results of any such interference being evil, +ranging from merely minor ills such as disappointment or discomfort to +great calamities. The law of compensation is absolute. Any deviation +from law or custom will inevitably bring its results, and inversely any +evil that befalls must be the result of some lack of observance. The +legends reveal to our analysis a conception of the universe as a moral +order. + +Here I must conclude my attempt to interpret the customs and beliefs of +the Andaman Islanders, but in doing so I wish to point out, though +indeed it must already be fairly obvious, that if my interpretation be +correct, then the meaning of the customs of other primitive peoples is +to be discovered by similar methods and in accordance with the same +psychological principles. It is because I have satisfied myself of the +soundness of these methods and principles, by applying them to the +interpretation of other cultures, that I put forward the hypotheses of +these two chapters with an assurance that would not perhaps be +justified if I relied solely on a study of the Andamanese. To put the +matter in another way, I have assumed a certain working hypothesis, and +I have shown that on the basis of this hypothesis there can be built up +a satisfactory explanation of the customs and beliefs of the +Andamanese. But the hypothesis is of such a nature, stating or +involving as it does certain sociological or psychological laws and +principles, that if it be true for one primitive people it must be true +for others, and indeed, with necessary modifications, must be true of +all human society. Such a hypothesis, it is obvious, cannot be +adequately tested by reference only to one limited set of facts, and it +will therefore be necessary, if it is to become something more than a +hypothesis, to test its application over a wider range of ethnological +facts. + +The matter is so important that it is necessary, even at the risk of +wearisome repetition, to give a final statement of the hypothesis that, +in this chapter and the last, has been applied to and tested by the +facts known to us concerning the Andaman Islanders. + +In an enquiry such as this, we are studying, I take it, not isolated +facts, but a “culture,” understanding by that word the whole mass of +institutions, customs and beliefs of a given people. For a culture to +exist at all, and to continue to exist, it must conform to certain +conditions. It must provide a mode of subsistence adequate to the +environment and the existing density of population; it must provide for +the continuance of the society by the proper care of children; it must +provide means for maintaining the cohesion of the society. All these +things involve the regulation of individual conduct in certain definite +ways; they involve, that is, a certain system of moral customs. + +Each type of social organisation has its own system of moral customs, +and these could be explained by showing how they serve to maintain the +society in existence. Such an explanation would be of the +psychological, not of the historical type; it would give not the cause +of origin of any custom, but its social function. For example it is +easy to see the function of the very strong feelings of the Andamanese +as to the value of generosity in the distribution of food and of energy +in obtaining it, and as to the highly reprehensible nature of laziness +and greediness (meaning by the latter word, eating much when others +have little). It has only been by the cultivation of these virtues, or +by the eradication of the opposite vices, that the Andaman society has +maintained itself in existence in an environment where food is only +obtainable by individual effort, where it cannot be preserved from day +to day, and where there are occasional times of scarcity. It could be +shown, to take a further example, how the manner in which the life of +the family is organised is closely related to certain fundamental +social needs. If we were attempting an explanation of the Andamanese +culture as a whole and in all its details it would be necessary to +examine all the moral customs of the people and show their relations +one to another and to the fundamental basis on which the society is +organised. + +The necessary regulation of conduct in a given society depends upon the +existence in each individual of an organised system of sentiments. That +system of sentiments or motives will clearly be different in different +cultures, just as the system of moral rules is different in societies +of different types. Yet there is, so to speak, a general substratum +that is the same in all human societies. No matter how the society may +be organised there must be in the individual a strong feeling of +attachment to his own group, to the social division (nation, village, +clan, tribe, caste, or what not) to which he belongs. The particular +way in which that sentiment is revealed in thought and action will +depend upon the nature of the group to which it refers. Similarly, no +society can exist without the presence in the minds of its members of +some form or other of the sentiment of moral obligation—the sentiment +that certain things must be done, certain other things must not be +done, because those are right, good, virtuous, these are wrong, bad, +vicious or sinful. Further, though perhaps less important, yet not less +necessary, there is the sentiment of dependence in its various +forms—dependence on others, on the society, on tradition or custom. + +For a culture to exist, then, these sentiments (and others connected +with them, that need not be enumerated) must exist in the minds of +individuals in certain definite forms, capable of influencing action in +the direction required to maintain the cohesion of the society on its +actual basis of organisation. This, we may say, is the social function +of these sentiments. + +Leaving aside altogether the question of how sentiments of these kinds +come into existence, we may note that they involve the existence of an +experience of a particular type. The individual experiences the action +upon himself of a power or force—constraining him to act in certain +ways not always pleasant, supporting him in his weakness, binding him +to his fellows, to his group. This force is clearly something not +himself—something outside of him therefore, and yet equally clearly it +makes itself felt not as mere external compulsion or support, but as +something within his own consciousness—within himself, therefore. If we +would give a name to this force we can only call it the moral force of +society. The very existence of a human society, the argument has run, +necessarily involves the existence of this actual experience of a moral +force, acting through the society upon the individual, and yet acting +within his own consciousness. The experience, then, is there, but it +does not follow that the primitive man can analyse his own experience; +it is obvious enough that such analysis is beyond him. Still the +experience does lead him to form certain notions or representations, +and it is possible to show how these notions are psychologically +related to the experience of a moral force. + +The experience of this moral force comes to the individual in definite +concrete experiences only. We first learn to experience our own +dependence in our dealings with our parents, and thus we derive the +concrete form in which we clothe our later adult feeling of our +dependence upon our God. Or, to take an example from the vast number +provided by the customs of the Andamanese, the Andaman Islander, like +other savages, the main concern of whose lives is the getting and +eating of food, inevitably finds his experience of a moral force most +intimately associated with the things he uses for food. Inevitably, +therefore, he regards food as a substance in which, in some way, the +moral force is inherent, since it is often through food that the force +actually affects him and his actions. The psychology of the matter can +be traced, I hope, in the arguments of the last chapter. From the +analysis there given of different customs and beliefs it should be +obvious that the way in which the Andaman Islander regards all the +things that influence the social life is due to the way in which they +are associated with his experience of the moral force of the society. + +In this way there arises in the mind of primitive man, as the result of +his social life and the play of feeling that it involves, the more or +less crude and undefined notion of a power in society and in nature +having certain attributes. It is this power that is responsible for all +conditions of social euphoria or dysphoria because in all such +conditions the power itself is actually experienced. It is the same +power that compels the individual to conform to custom in his conduct, +acting upon him both within as the force of conscience and without as +the force of opinion. It is the same force on which the individual +feels himself to be dependent, as a source of inner strength to him in +times of need. It is this force also that carries him away during +periods of social excitement such as dances, ceremonies or fights, and +which gives him the feeling of a sudden great addition to his own +personal force. + +The Andamanese have not reached the point of recognizing by a special +name this power of which they are thus aware. I have shown that in some +of its manifestations they regard it, symbolically, as being a sort of +heat, or a force similar to that which they know in fire and heat. In +more developed societies, however, we find a nearer approach to a +definite recognition of this power or force in its different +manifestations by means of a single name. The power denoted by the word +mana in Melanesia, and by the words orenda, wakan, nauala, etc., +amongst different tribes of North America, is this same power of which +I have tried to show that the notion arises from the actual experience +of the moral force of the society. + +These sentiments and the representations connected with them, upon the +existence of which, as we have seen, the very existence of the society +depends, need to be kept alive, to be maintained at a given degree of +intensity. Apart from the necessity that exists of keeping them alive +in the mind of the individual, there is the necessity of impressing +them upon each new individual added to the society, upon each child as +he or she develops into an adult. Even individual sentiments do not +remain in existence in the mind unless they are exercised by being +expressed. Much more is this the case with collective sentiments, those +shared by a number of persons. The only possible way by which such +collective sentiments can be maintained is by giving them regular and +adequate expression. + +Here then, according to the argument of the last chapter, we find the +function of the ceremonial customs of primitive peoples such as the +Andamanese. All these customs are simply means by which certain ways of +feeling about the different aspects of social life are regularly +expressed, and, through expression, kept alive and passed on from one +generation to another. Thus the customs connected with foods serve to +maintain in existence certain ways of feeling about foods and the moral +duties connected with them, and similarly with other customs. + +Affective modes of experience (sentiments, feelings or emotions) can be +expressed not only in bodily movements but also by means of language. I +have tried to show that the function of the myths and legends of the +Andamanese is exactly parallel to that of the ritual and ceremonial. +They serve to express certain ways of thinking and feeling about the +society and its relation to the world of nature, and thereby to +maintain these ways of thought and feeling and pass them on to +succeeding generations. In the case of both ritual and myth the +sentiments expressed are those that are essential to the existence of +the society. + +Throughout these two chapters I have avoided the use of the term +religion. My reason for this is that I have not been able to find a +definition of this term which would render it suitable for use in a +scientific discussion of the beliefs of such primitive peoples as the +Andamanese. + +When we use the term religion we inevitably think first of what we +understand by that term in civilised society. It is not possible, I +believe, to give an exact definition which shall retain all the +connotations of the word as commonly used and which shall at the same +time help us in the study of the customs of undeveloped societies. The +definition of religion that seems to me on the whole most satisfactory +is that it consists of (1) a belief in a great moral force or power +(whether personal or not) existing in nature, and (2) an organised +relation between man and this Higher Power. If this definition be +accepted it is clear that the Andamanese have religious beliefs and +customs. They do believe in a moral power regulating the universe, and +they have organised their relations to that power by means of some of +their simple ceremonies. Yet it does not seem possible to draw a sharp +dividing line between those beliefs and customs that properly deserve +to be called religious, and others which do not deserve the adjective. +It is not possible, in the Andamans, to separate a definite entity +which we can call religion from things that may more appropriately be +regarded as art, morality, play, or social ceremonial. + +Nevertheless the purpose of these two chapters has been to explain the +nature and function of the Andamanese religion. Amongst the fundamental +conditions that must be fulfilled if human beings are to live together +in society is the existence of this thing that we call religion, the +belief in a great Unseen Power, between which and ourselves it must +ever be the great concern of life to establish and maintain harmony. +The Andaman Islander with his somewhat childish faith, the Australian +black-fellow decorated with paint and feathers impersonating his +totemic ancestor, the Polynesian sacrificing human victims on the marae +of his god, the Buddhist following the Holy Eight-Staged Path, are all +following in however different ways the same eternal quest. + + + + + + + + +APPENDIX A + +THE TECHNICAL CULTURE OF THE ANDAMAN ISLANDERS + + +In this appendix I shall give a brief account of the technical culture +of the Andaman Islanders, with a few comparative notes on the +technology of the Semang of the Malay Peninsula and the Negritos of the +Philippine Islands. The Andamanese, the Semang and the Philippine +Negritos are so similar in physical characteristics that it is +reasonable to suppose that they are descended from a single stock. It +is on the basis of this hypothesis that they are all spoken of as +belonging to one race, the Negrito race. It is therefore of some +interest to compare the culture of these three different peoples to see +if we can determine what was the culture of their ancestors. + +In such hypothetical reconstructions of the past it is necessary to +proceed with extreme caution, as there is no means of controlling +results. The method I have adopted is to compare first of all the +different types of technological products or activities found in +different parts of the Andamans in order to determine as far as +possible what was the technical culture of the ancestors of the +Andamanese when they first reached the islands, and what changes have +taken place since the islands were occupied. It is only this primitive +or generalised Andamanese culture that can be compared with that of the +Semang or the Philippine Negritos. + +From the point of view of technical culture the natives of the Andamans +must be separated into two main divisions, which will be spoken of as +the Great Andaman Division and the Little Andaman Division respectively +[226]. The most plausible explanation of the differences of culture and +language between these two divisions has been mentioned already. We +must assume that when the islands were first peopled, or at some later +time, the inhabitants of the Little Andaman became isolated from those +of the Great Andaman. The language and the technical culture of each of +the two groups underwent a number of changes during the many centuries +that followed. At a much later date, after the differences between the +two divisions had been developed, and probably not many centuries ago, +a party or several parties of natives must have made their way from the +Little Andaman as far as Rutland Island. Here they came in conflict +with the natives of the Great Andaman Division, and in this way arose +the antagonism between the Jarawa (the immigrants from the Little +Andaman) and the other natives of the South Andaman (who formed in 1858 +the Aka-Bea tribe), which has lasted down to the present day. We shall +find that the technical culture of the Jarawa has been only very +slightly influenced by contact with the natives of the Great Andaman +Division, and therefore differs very little from that of the Little +Andaman at the present day. + + + Primitive Andaman Culture + | + _____________/ \____________ + / / \ + ________/|\________ / \ + / | \ / \ + N. Sentinel Little Jarawa Southern Northern + Andaman Group Group + \____________ ____________/ \_____ _____/ + \/ \/ + Little Andaman Division Great Andaman + Division + + +I have provisionally included the natives of the North Sentinel Island +in the Little Andaman Division. The ground for so doing is that the +form of bow in use in the North Sentinel Island is similar to that of +the Little Andaman and unlike that of the Great Andaman. Unfortunately, +almost nothing is known about the technology of the North Sentinel, and +nothing whatever about the language. It is possible that the natives of +this outlying islet have been isolated for many centuries from both the +Little Andaman and the Great Andaman, and further information about +them might show that their technology is different in important +respects from that of the Little Andaman. + +Within the Great Andaman Division there are a number of differences in +technology between the tribes of the North Andaman and those of the +South Andaman and Middle Andaman. + +In order to render the exposition and argument that follows more easily +understood the supposed relations of the different types of culture are +shown in the form of a diagram or tree. The justification for this +arrangement will appear as we proceed. + +There is only very scanty information available about the technical +culture of the Negritos of the Malay Peninsula, whom we may speak of as +the Semang. There are differences of technology between the Semang of +different parts, and a careful study of these differences would serve +to throw much light on changes that have been introduced since the +Semang were isolated from the rest of their race. There is no doubt +that the Semang have adopted many elements of their present culture +from their neighbours the Sakai and others. In some instances it is +possible to trace this external influence, but in others it is doubtful +whether we are dealing with a primitive Semang form or with a form +adopted from their neighbours [227]. + +The same thing must be said about the Philippine Negritos. Our +information is not sufficient to enable us to discuss the local +differences, nor to determine what elements of the culture have been +introduced by contact with other races [228]. + + + +HABITATIONS. + +The huts of the Andamanese are best understood by considering first of +all the simplest and most temporary structures. A man away from the +main camp at night (on a hunting expedition) erects for himself a +simple shelter of leaves. Such hunting shelters vary considerably +according to circumstances. In the rainy season they are built much +more substantially than in the dry season. Sometimes shelter is found +between the buttresses of large trees, a few leaves being added. There +is, however, one type of hunting shelter that is usual. Two poles are +cut and erected perpendicularly in the ground so that they stand about +four feet apart and about four feet high. To the top of these is tied, +with cane or creeper, a horizontal pole. A few poles or sticks of +sufficient length are placed so as to lean against the horizontal pole +at an angle of about 45°, the ends resting on the ground. On these are +placed any leaves that can be obtained, preferably the leaves of canes +and other palms. The shelter thus consists of a single rectangular +roof, one end of which rests on the ground, while the other rests on a +horizontal bar attached to the top of two perpendicular supports. The +shelter is built facing to leeward. + +The usual family hut of the Andamans is built on exactly the same +principles as a hunter’s shelter, but, being intended for occupation +for some weeks or even months, is more carefully built. For a small +hut, to be occupied by one family, four posts are erected, two at the +back being from two to four feet high above the ground, while two at +the front are from five to seven feet high. Two horizontal poles are +attached, one to the top of the front posts and the other to the back +posts, with strips of cane. If poles of a convenient size and forked at +the top are available these may be used for the posts of the hut, the +horizontal poles being supported in the forks, but a native would not +trouble to search for such timbers, being satisfied with an unforked +post. A few slender timbers, preferably of mangrove wood (Bruguiera), +are placed on the two horizontal poles and bound to them with cane. +These rafters, as they may be called, project for a foot or two above +or beyond the higher horizontal, and similarly project a foot beyond +the lower one so as almost to reach the ground. + +In the better kind of hut a mat is made of palm leaves, and this mat is +placed on the rafters and tied to them with strips of cane. To make a +mat a number of strips of bamboo or cane of sufficient length are taken +and placed on the ground parallel to each other. Leaves of a species of +cane are collected and each leaf is divided into two parts down the +middle. These half-leaves are then attached to the strips of bamboo or +cane, by means of strips of the outside of canes, the technique being +wrapped-twined work. The half-leaves are attached so that the leaflets, +which are attached to the leaf-stem at an angle, incline alternately to +one side and the other. The photograph reproduced in Plate VII shows a +hut of the kind here described. Mats in course of making are shown +lying on the ground in Plates VI and VII. + +A quicker, but less efficient way of thatching the hut is to take the +half-leaves such as are used for making a mat and fasten them in +bundles of five or six directly to the rafters. + +Huts of this type, each occupied by a single family, are built by the +natives of the Great Andaman Division in the form of villages. The +Jarawa and the natives of the Little Andaman build similar huts in +their hunting camps, occupied during the fine weather. + +Some huts of this type are provided with a floor raised above the +ground. Such a floor is erected on short posts, and may be made of +bamboos or of planks or pieces of broken-up canoes. A floor of this +kind, raised a foot or so above the ground, is shown in Plate VII. Huts +are sometimes to be seen with a floor raised as much as three feet +above the ground. + +The simple Andaman hut as above described is entirely open at the front +and on each side. In an exposed situation screens of palm-leaves may be +erected at the side. If still more shelter is required, a hut may be +built with two roofs. Such a hut requires six posts, two taller ones +six or seven feet high, and four shorter ones, two on each side. For +such a hut two mats are made, and are so attached that one mat projects +above the other. No attempt is made to fasten the two mats together at +the top, but on the contrary a space of several inches is left between +them to allow the smoke of the fire to escape, rain being excluded by +the overhang of one of the mats. Huts of this type may be seen in Plate +VI. + +Each of the huts hitherto described is occupied by a single family. In +order to understand the communal huts it is necessary to consider the +arrangement of small huts in a camp or village. In the tribes of the +Great Andaman there are two main types of such arrangement. The first +type is that of the hunting camp, which is occupied for a few nights +only. In this all the huts are placed facing in the same direction (to +leeward) and in a line with one another. The second type is that of a +village to be occupied for some weeks or months. In this the huts are +arranged round an open space, all facing inwards, as described earlier +in this book [229]. All encampments in the Great Andaman tend to +conform to one or other of these types, but variations are introduced +according to the nature of the site occupied. Thus in a hunting camp +the site may not permit of the erection of the huts in one line. A +village is, as a rule, only put up at a spot that has been used from +time immemorial, where there is an open space of sufficient size, but +if, for any reason, a site is selected where there is not room to +arrange all the huts around the dancing ground, the arrangement of the +village may be irregular. + +The hunting camps of the Jarawa are sometimes arranged on the same +principle as those of the tribes of the Great Andaman Division, i.e., +all facing in one direction and as nearly in one line side by side as +the site will allow. + +The natives of the Little Andaman erect hunting camps in the fine +weather. In the only one that I have seen the huts were arranged +irregularly so as to make the best use of the available space. + +A few words must be said on the sites chosen for encampments. It must +be remembered that the islands are entirely covered with forest. The +natives will not, if they can avoid it, put their camp under high +trees, for fear of the danger of falling branches in a storm. At the +same time they prefer a situation where there is an open space +surrounded with forest so that they are sheltered from the wind. The +coast-dwellers always camp immediately within the jungle on the shore +of the sea or of a creek. The forest-dwellers usually choose a position +on a hill or ridge, and this is particularly the case with the Jarawa. +The camp must be close to a supply of fresh water. In the tribes of the +Great Andaman Division no precautions are taken against a possible +attack by enemies, but the Jarawa do take precautions, clearing the +trees around their camps so that they have a good view of the +approaches, and even, apparently, placing look-out stations at the tops +of the paths [230]. + +Amongst the coast-dwelling tribes there are sites that have been used +for encampments for many centuries. At these spots there are found +heaps of refuse that have accumulated year by year. These +kitchen-middens, as they are sometimes called, consist of the shells of +molluscs, bones of animals, stones that have been used for cooking, +fragments of pottery, and loam produced from decayed wood and other +refuse. + +The two types of camp arrangement which are seen in the village and the +hunting camp are exhibited in two different types of communal hut. One +of these, corresponding to the hunting camp, may be termed the long +shelter. It is apparently only used in the North Sentinel Island. A hut +of this type was seen by Mr Gilbert Rogers in 1903. It was rectangular, +40 feet long and 12 feet wide. The roof was supported on three rows of +small posts ranging in height from 3 feet at the back to 6 feet at the +front of the hut. The roof projected about 2 feet in either direction +beyond the posts and was about 2 feet from the ground at the back and 7 +feet above the ground at the front. There were twelve places for fires, +six in front and six at the back of the hut, and near each, on the +right-hand side, was a platform supported on four sticks, of the usual +Andamanese type, for keeping food. There were two rows of sleeping +places which were separated by small poles, making rectangles on the +ground about 5 feet by 4 feet, each of which was probably occupied by a +man and his wife and small children [231]. + +The relation of this type of communal hut, in which all the members of +one local group are brought together under a single roof of one slope, +to the ordinary family hut of the Andamans, and the arrangement of the +hunting camp in a line, is obvious. + +To the arrangement of huts in a village around a central open space +corresponds the second type of communal hut, which may be called the +round hut. Communal huts of this type were formerly built by the +natives of the Great Andaman Division, but have fallen into disuse in +recent times, owing to the natives having become much more migratory in +their habits. Huts of the same type are built at the present day by the +natives of the Little Andaman and by the Jarawa. + +In its typical form this kind of hut is built by erecting two circles +of posts, a smaller circle of tall posts, and a wider circle of shorter +posts. The tops of these posts are connected by horizontal and sloping +timbers, which make the framework of the roof. The roof is made of a +number of mats of palm-leaves, which are laid on the rafters and tied +to them with strips of cane. The mats are made in exactly the same way +as the smaller mats used for the small huts and already described. They +are sometimes rectangular in shape, though occasionally an attempt is +made to make them narrower at the top and broader at the bottom. They +are arranged on the roof so as to overlap one another and thus make the +hut rain-proof. They are not joined in the centre, but a small space is +left for the smoke of the fires to escape, and the rain is prevented +from entering by letting one or two of the mats overhang the others at +the top. + +In the round huts of the Jarawa and the Little Andaman there is no +centre-post, and according to the statements made to me by the natives +of the Great Andaman they did not use a centre-post for their huts. In +the description attached to a photograph in the British Museum Mr +Portman speaks of the centre-post of a communal hut, which is shown in +the photograph still standing, although the hut had been pulled down. +It would therefore seem that in the Great Andaman the natives did +sometimes erect a centre-post for their round huts. The typical round +hut, however, has no centre-post. + +It is clear that the round hut has been developed from the village. If +all the small huts of a village be drawn together so as to touch each +other, and if the mats of thatching be lengthened so as to meet and +overlap in the middle, we have a round hut in its typical form. The +evidence that this is so is afforded by the thatching, consisting of +separate mats, often rectangular in shape (like the mats used for +family huts), placed so as to overlap one another. This crude way of +thatching could hardly have originated in any other way. Further +evidence is afforded, as we shall see, by the internal arrangement of +the hut. + +Although the hut is here called a round hut, it must not be supposed +that the shape is always regularly circular. It may be somewhat oval, +and in any case is rarely very regularly constructed. In general, +however, the shape approaches more or less nearly to a circle. + +Huts of this kind vary in size according to the number of families +occupying them. The height in the middle may be as much as 30 feet and +the diameter may be 60 feet. The smallest I have seen was a Jarawa hut +on Rutland Island, which was only nine feet high and 15 feet maximum +diameter. In exposed situations the mats of thatching reach as far as +the ground, but huts are sometimes built in sheltered situations with a +space of a foot or two left between the ends of the thatch and the +ground. A low doorway is provided on one side. + +Within the hut there is a central space that is the common part of the +hut and corresponds to the dancing ground of the village. In the wet +season the communal fire is situated in this open space, and here the +communal cooking is performed. In Jarawa huts the roof of the central +part of the hut is hung with trophies of the chase consisting of pigs’ +skulls bound with cane. In former times the natives of the Great +Andaman Division hung similar trophies in their round huts. Around the +central space are the spaces allotted to the different families, these +being marked off by means of short lengths of wood laid on the ground. + +It is thus clear that the basis of Andamanese architecture is the use +of a single rectangular roof giving a shelter open at the front. This +is the usual form of the hunter’s shelter and of the family hut in the +village. For additional shelter two such roofs may be used, but no +attempt is made to join them, one being made to overlap the other. +There are two customary modes of arranging huts, either side by side +facing in the same direction or round an open space facing inwards. +Where, instead of separate roofs for each family, we have a united +roof, these two arrangements of the camp give rise to two different +types of communal hut, the long hut and the round hut. + +In a village each hut is occupied by one family. In the communal hut +(of either type) each family has a special portion of the hut marked +off for its special use. Whether in a village or in a communal hut each +family has its own small fire, at which the family meals are prepared. +At one side of this fire is erected a small platform about a foot above +the ground, supported on either three or four upright sticks. This +platform is used for storing food. The natives of the Little Andaman +erect low bamboo platforms to serve as beds, arranged round the +communal hut, each family having its own. In the Great Andaman the +natives, as a rule, make a bed of leaves on the ground and lay a +sleeping mat on the top of this. In damp situations, however, they +sometimes, as already mentioned, make a floor to the hut, raised a foot +or two above the ground, and sleep on that. The Jarawa have a habit of +sleeping in the wood-ashes of their fires in their cold weather hunting +camps. + +Turning now to the Semang, we find some differences in respect to their +habitations. Those of the Semang who have not been influenced to a +great extent by their neighbours and have not settled down to +agricultural pursuits, never camp in the same spot for more than a few +days, and have therefore no need to build anything except temporary +shelters [232]. + +The Semang often erect their shelters in trees, well above the surface +of the ground. This is a feature which distinguishes them from the +Andamanese. It seems probable that these tree-shelters have been +adopted by the Semang as a protection against wild beasts [233]. As +there are no dangerous beasts in the Andamans, the extra labour +involved in building a shelter in the branches of a tree instead of on +the ground would serve no useful purpose. The difference in this +respect between the Semang and the Andamanese is therefore due to a +difference in the circumstances in which they live. + +The typical form of Semang shelter, occupied by one family, is erected +by planting three or four stout sticks or poles in the ground in a row +at an angle of about 60° or 75° and lashing palm-leaves across these. +The screen or roof thus formed is further supported, if necessary, with +one or two poles used as props in front [234]. These shelters are +similar to the Andaman shelters in having a single sloping rectangular +roof, but differ from them in being supported, not by upright posts, +but in an altogether less adequate manner. However, the Semang shelters +are apparently very easy to erect, and as they are only occupied for a +night or two there is no inducement to the natives to make them more +substantial. + +The Semang sometimes make a shelter by planting a number of palm-leaves +in the ground in a semicircle so that the overhanging ends meet in the +centre [235]. + +As the Semang are constantly moving from place to place, they have +little use for a communal hut of substantial build. One communal +shelter has been described, which contained eleven sleeping-places +arranged in two long rows. The upright timbers of the shelter consisted +of young saplings planted in two opposite rows, across them being +lashed the leaves of a palm. There were, besides, two central posts or +pillars, each about a third of the distance from either end of the +shelter, and a dozen poles placed as props or wind-braces in various +positions and at various angles, in order to strengthen the structure +and keep it from being blown over in a high wind. The two slopes of the +roof were not united over a ridge-pole, but a longitudinal aperture was +left between them for about two-thirds of the entire length of the +roof, and through the gap thus caused the greater part of the smoke +from the many fireplaces issued. All round the walls were ranged a +number of bamboo sleeping-platforms, five to six feet in length by +about three feet in breadth. The owner of each sleeping-platform or +family unit possessed a separate fire or hearth [236]. + +We have only scanty information about the huts of the Philippine +Negritos. In Zambales (Luzon) a certain number of the Negritos have +adopted a settled mode of life and depend on agriculture for some part +of their subsistence. The most advanced of these have adopted the form +of hut common amongst their neighbours. The less settled Negritos of +Zambales erect huts which are almost exactly the same as the family +huts of the Andamanese. Two short upright posts are erected for the +back of the hut, and two taller ones for the front, and on these four +posts a rectangular roof of one slope is erected. A bamboo floor or +platform is erected a foot or so above the ground, just as in some +Andaman huts [237]. In the Zambales huts the upright posts are forked +and the horizontal poles are supported in the fork. + +At Casiguran the Negritos erect palm-leaf shelters similar to those of +the Semang. A few poles are thrust into the ground at an angle and in a +row and palm-leaves are attached to these, the screen being further +supported with props [238]. + +A comparison of the three branches of the Negrito race in the light of +present information shows that the usual form of habitation amongst +them is a sloping roof or screen of palm-leaves. One form of this, the +simplest to construct, but only suitable as a temporary shelter, is in +common use amongst the Semang and is found amongst the Negritos of +Casiguran. The other form, more permanent but requiring more labour to +erect, is in common use in the Andamans and amongst the Negritos of +Zambales. Of communal huts we have no evidence in the Philippines. The +communal shelter of the Semang consists of two screens leaning towards +one another. The two types of communal hut of the Andamans are both +derived from the family hut. + + + +HUNTING, FISHING, ETC. + +The Andaman Islanders depend for their subsistence entirely upon the +natural productions of the forest and the sea. They make no attempt +whatever to cultivate the soil. Until the introduction of dogs in 1858 +they had no domestic animals. Young pigs are occasionally kept in +captivity till they are grown, but they are killed for food and are not +bred in captivity. Thus the Andamanese provide themselves with food by +three different forms of activity: (1) collecting such things as roots +and fruits and honey, (2) fishing in the sea and in the creeks, (3) +hunting the wild animals of the forest. + +For hunting the Andamanese rely entirely on the bow and arrow. Since +they have had dogs they occasionally make hunting spears, but they did +not do so in former times. They make no use whatever of any method of +trapping game or birds. For fishing they also make use of the bow and +arrow, wading out on to the reefs and shooting the fish, and in this +they are very skilful. Crustaceans, such as crabs and crayfish, are +captured in the same way. In the North Andaman a sort of short fish +spear was formerly in use as an occasional substitute for the bow and +arrow. In all parts of the islands small nets are used by the women for +catching small fish and prawns. In the Great Andaman large nets were +formerly used for capturing turtle, dugong and large fish near the +shore. At the present time the natives of the Great Andaman Division +make use of harpoons with which they capture turtle, dugong and large +fish from their canoes. Harpoons are not used in the Little Andaman. +The Andamanese are also aware of methods of poisoning or stupefying +fish in pools by means of certain plants that they crush and place in +the water, but I have never seen them use this method of fishing, +although they say that they formerly did so. They have no fish hooks +and no fish traps. At the present time a few of the natives have learnt +to take fish with hook and line, but they are unable to make hooks for +themselves, and have to obtain them from the Settlement at Port Blair. + +In collecting roots a digging stick is used, and a hooked pole is used +for gathering fruit, but they have no other special implements in use +in collecting natural productions, and have no need of any. The adze is +used for obtaining molluscs and for cutting honey-combs from hollow +trees. + +It is thus clear that by far the most important utensil of the +Andamanese is the bow and arrow. We may say that they are essentially a +bow and arrow people. This is even more true of the natives of the +Little Andaman Division than of those of the Great Andaman Division. + +It may be noted here that the Andamanese have no weapons that are used +only for fighting. They fight with their chief hunting weapon, the bow +and arrow. Nor have they any special defensive weapons, the shield +being unknown. + +The Semang in their natural condition depend for their subsistence on +collecting roots and fruits from the forest, on catching fish in the +streams, and on hunting animals. Their mode of subsistence is thus +essentially the same as that of the Andamanese. One difference is that +they have not the sea from which to draw supplies, and another is that +the forests in which they live afford a much larger variety of game. A +number of the Semang now practice a little rude agriculture which they +have undoubtedly adopted in imitation of their neighbours of other +races [239]. + +The principal weapon of the Semang, as of the Andamanese, is the bow +and arrow. In hunting they also use spears [240], thus showing a +difference from the Andamanese. Some of the Semang make use of the +blow-pipe with poisoned darts, but it is practically certain that they +have adopted the use of this weapon from their neighbours the Sakai +[241]. They also make use to some extent of traps with which to capture +jungle animals and birds. The wilder Semang living in the mountains +have little opportunity of obtaining fish. Those of them that dwell +near rivers use fish-spears and harpoons for catching large fish, and a +small basket-work scoop for catching small fry [242]. They also fish +with rod and line, the hooks being, as a rule, roughly manufactured +from bits of brass or other wire [243]. The Semang have no special +fighting weapons either offensive or defensive. + +In the Philippines some of the Negritos practice a little rude +agriculture [244]. It is practically certain that they have only +adopted this mode of subsistence through contact with agricultural +peoples of other races. They originally depended entirely upon +collecting, fishing and hunting, and even those who now grow a few +scanty crops devote a large part of their energies to hunting and +collecting the natural products of the jungles [245]. The chief weapon +of the Negritos of the Philippines, as of the Andamanese and the +Semang, is the bow and arrow. They use the bow and arrow for shooting +fish, having special fish-arrows [246]. It seems doubtful if they use +spears, unless they have adopted them from their neighbours. In hunting +deer the Negritos of Zambales use large nets like fish nets. They are +acquainted with the use of traps for game but they seem to prefer to +depend on the bow and arrow [247]. In the larger streams of Zambales +they make fishing weirs of bamboo, after the manner of the +Christianised natives of the same part [248]. + +As the most important weapon of the Andamanese, and indeed of the +Negritos in general, is the bow, we may consider this first. Different +kinds of bow are in use in different parts of the Andamans, but by a +careful comparison of them it is possible to show how they are all +derived from one original pattern. + +The first kind of bow to be described is that in use in the Little +Andaman. These bows are all made of a reddish-brown wood (possibly +Mimusops littoralis). They are cut with an adze from a straight piece +of wood, and are planed but not polished. The length varies within +fairly wide limits. Six specimens selected as typical have lengths of +131, 150, 159·5, 163, 168 and 188 centimetres, giving an average of +about 160 centimetres (= 63 inches). In section the bow is markedly +convex on the one side and slightly convex on the other. The two +figures (Fig. 1) show the section at the middle and at a point 7 cm. +from the end of a typical specimen. The shape in section varies a +little from one example to another, and the dimensions of breadth and +thickness also vary. At the broadest point, which is in the middle, the +average breadth of six bows is 3·2 cm., the broadest being 3·7 cm., and +the narrowest 2·3 cm. The average thickness in the middle is 1·8 cm., +the actual figures ranging from 2·1 to 1·3 cm. From the middle the bow +tapers slightly towards each end. At a distance of 7 cm. from the end +of the bow the average breadth is 1·8 cm., and the average thickness +1·2 cm. + +The flatter side is the inside of the bow. Referring to the figures, +the side marked A is that which faces a man as he holds the bow ready +to shoot (called here the inside). C is thus the right-hand side and D +the left-hand. By breadth is meant the distance from C to D, and by +thickness the distance from A to B. + +At each end of the bow there is a shoulder, as shown in Fig. 2. The +length from the shoulder to the end of the bow, i.e. the length of the +point on which the string is looped, is about 10 to 12 mm. Both ends +are the same. For a few centimetres below the shoulder the bow is +served over with string or fibre. In a carefully finished bow the +serving is usually done with ornamental string, i.e. with string round +which is twisted the dried yellow skin of the Dendrobium. In other +examples plain string is used, or a strip of twisted Ficus fibre, or +even nowadays a twisted strip of cotton cloth. + +Bows are never ornamented in the Little Andaman either with paint or +with incised patterns. + +The bow-string of the Little Andaman is made of strips of the bark of +the Ficus laccifera. The number and width of the strips used depend on +the size of the bow. In a small bow now in the Cambridge Museum the +string is made of a single strip of bark about 1 cm. in width. This +strip is simply twisted, the twist being that of a right-hand or male +screw. When two strips are used they are not twisted around one another +in the way that a two-ply rope is made, but are laid flat together and +twisted together, so that when the string is finished only one of the +strips is visible, the other being inside. In a stout string for a +large bow three or four strips may be twisted together in this way. The +bow-string is not a rope, but a twisted strand (Fig. 3.) + +At one end of the string a loop is made, as shown in Fig. 4. The end is +doubled over to make a loop of the right size, a round turn is made +over the standing part (A) and the end (B) is twisted in with the +standing part by untwisting the latter, laying the end in, and twisting +up again. If this splicing, as it may perhaps be loosely called, be not +sufficiently secure, it is served over or stopped with finer fibre of +the same kind. This loop is of sufficient size to slip down over the +shoulders. At the other end the string is attached to the peg either +with a knot, or else by means of a small loop (just large enough to go +over the peg, but not large enough to slip over the shoulder) made in +exactly the same way as the loop already described. When the bow is to +be strung the larger loop is slipped over the peg at the top end of the +bow and is pushed down over the shoulder. The other end (with the +smaller loop) is then slipped on the peg at the lower end, resting on +the shoulder. The lower end is placed on the ground, while the top end +is held in the hand. The man places his foot against the middle of the +bow and draws the top towards him until he is able to slip the top loop +of the string up over the shoulder so that it catches the peg or tip. +The bow is then ready for use. + +Toy bows are made for small boys of exactly the same general pattern as +the large bows. A toy bow of this kind, now in the Cambridge Museum, is +107 cm. long and 18 mm. broad in the middle. + +The next type of bow to be considered is that used by the natives of +the North Sentinel Island. I have only been able to see one specimen of +this type, which is in the British Museum. It is made of a different +kind of wood from that used in the Little Andaman. The length is 155·5 +cm., and the breadth at the middle is 4·3 cm. The section in the +middle, which is shown in Fig. 5, is slightly different from that of +the average Little Andaman bow, but it has the same feature of greater +convexity on the outside and less convexity on the inside, and it lies +just within the range of variation of the Little Andaman type. The ends +of the bow are shaped in the same way as those of the Little Andaman +bow. The breadth at the shoulder, however, is 2·5 cm., which is greater +than the corresponding measurement of the Little Andaman bow. The bow +is not ornamented either with a painted or incised pattern. The string +is missing. There is no binding at the ends below the shoulders, but +this has possibly been present and come off, as the specimen is one +that has been thrown away by its owner owing to the wood having split. +So far as we can tell from this single specimen the bow of the North +Sentinel differs very little from that of the Little Andaman. + +We now come to the bows of the Jarawa of the South Andaman. The Jarawa +of Rutland Island, of whom there are now very few, but of whom there +were a larger number twenty or thirty years ago, make bows exactly like +those of the Little Andaman, and apparently do not make any other kind. +The Jarawa to the north of Port Blair, who have been driven northwards +by the spread of the Penal Settlement, also make bows of this type, +which it is not possible to distinguish from Little Andaman bows. These +northern Jarawa, however, also make bows of a different kind. These +will be spoken of as belonging to the “modified Jarawa type.” They are +larger than Little Andaman bows, having an average length of about 185 +cm., with a breadth of about 5 cm. The section, throughout the greater +part of the length, is either plano-convex, or, more frequently, +concavo-convex. The section of a typical example is shown in Fig. 6. At +the middle of the bow, where it is held in the hand, there is a slight +thickening produced by a protuberance on the inside, i.e. on the flat +or concave side. In a certain number of specimens the bow, instead of +being straight, is slightly recurved outwards. Finally, the wood from +which these bows are cut is not the same as that used in the Little +Andaman. + +The Little Andaman bow, the North Sentinel bow and the Jarawa bow are +all varieties of one type. The Little Andaman form is probably nearest +to the original of the type, and I shall show later how the +modifications found in the modified Jarawa type came to be adopted. + +We now come to bows of a different type, of which there are two +varieties, one used in the South and Middle Andaman, and the other used +in the North Andaman. + +The bow of the South Andaman tribes is not cut from a straight piece of +wood, but is cut from a tree that has bent in the course of its growth +into a suitable curve. A tree has to be found that will provide a piece +of wood of the required shape. From this the bow is shaped with an +adze, and is finished by planing with a boar’s tusk. + +Bows of this kind vary in length between 180 and 210 cm., the most +usual length being between 190 and 195 cm. At the upper end the bow is +brought to a point approximately circular in section. From this point +it broadens out until, at a distance of about 50 or 55 cm., or between +one-quarter and one-third of the length of the bow, it reaches its +maximum breadth, which is, on the average, about 5·5 cm. The section of +the bow at this point is convex on the outer side, while on the inner +side it may be flat or slightly concave, or even in rare instances +slightly convex. In many specimens there is a very slightly raised keel +running down the middle of the inside of the bow. The thickness of the +bow at the point mentioned is usually 1·5 to 1·75 cm., and there is +little variation in this respect in different specimens. (See Fig. 8.) + +At the middle the bow decreases in breadth and increases in thickness +to form a handle. At the handle the usual section may be described as +pear-shaped, the greatest diameter being the thickness (from inside to +outside) and not the breadth. + +From the handle towards the lower end the bow again increases in +breadth, so that the lower portion is about the same breadth and +thickness as the upper portion. At the lower end it tapers to a point, +circular in section, but the point is blunter than at the upper end. + +Thus the whole bow consists of a leaf-shaped upper portion or blade +which is straight (i.e. neither curved inwards nor outwards), a waist +or handle, and a lower blade that is curved backwards or outwards at +about its middle, this being the position of the bend in the wood from +which it is cut. A bow of this type is shown in Plate V. + +Near each end the bow is served over with string for a distance of 3 or +4 cm., leaving a bare point at the upper end of about 7 cm. long, and a +point at the lower end of about 1·5 cm. (Fig. 7.) + +A bow-string is made from the fibre of the Anadendron. A number of +strands of the fibre are taken and are waxed with black bees’-wax. Four +of these strands are taken, three of them are placed together and the +fourth is wound spirally round them. When the end of the active strand +(the one being twisted round the others) is neared, a new strand is +taken and laid in. The twisting is continued for a few turns and the +newly inserted one is then taken, the end of the first active strand +being laid in and wound over in its turn. The process continues in this +way, new strands being added until a cord of sufficient length has been +made. This is again waxed over on the outside. + +At one end of the cord a knot is tied. At the other end a loop or eye +is formed. To make this eye, when the cord is of sufficient length, the +end of it is bent over to form a loop of about 1 cm. or a little more +in diameter. This loop is then served over with thread made of +Anadendron fibre. The serving is continued over the neck of the loop +for about 1·5 cm. This gives an eye with the appearance shown in Fig. +9. A loose strand of fibre is left at the neck of the loop. This is +wound spirally over the cord, as described before, new strands being +added one after another until the cord has been treated in this way for +about 35 cm. from the eye. It is then stopped by serving it over for +about 2 cm. with Anadendron thread. It is clear from this description +that the cord is somewhat thicker for about 35 cm. from the end with +the eye than it is in the rest of its length. + +To string the bow the knotted end of the bow-string is fastened round +the top end of the bow with a slip knot, so that it rests on the top of +the string serving. The bow is then turned upside down and the top end +(now temporarily at the bottom) is fixed in the ground or against a +stone, so that it will not slip. The other end of the bow is taken by +the left hand, while the cord is held in the right, the right foot is +placed against the handle or middle of the bow and the bow is bent, the +end held by the hand being drawn towards the operator until he is able +to slip over it the eye or loop at the end of the string. + +After the bow has been strung the upper portion, which before was +straight, is now curved inwards, and the bow therefore appears as +S-shaped when seen from the side. When a man starts out hunting or +fishing he strings his bow and tests it, and it remains strung till he +returns, when he unstrings it and places it in his hut. + +The advantage of having a knot at one end of the string seems to be +that should the string be stretched by use it can be tightened by +altering the position of the knot. + +At the point where the nock of the arrow is placed when the bow is +drawn, it is usual to serve the string over with thread of Anadendron +fibre. + +The peculiar features of the South Andaman bow depend on the fact that +the bow takes advantage of the greater toughness and elasticity of wood +that has been compressed in the course of its growth. When the bow is +drawn the strain does not fall evenly, but, by reason of the shape of +the bow, is concentrated on one portion, namely the lower portion of +the bow where it is curved outwards. This is easily seen when a bow is +strongly drawn, for from the S-shape that it has before, it becomes +very nearly true arc-shaped when fully drawn. The lower portion of the +bow works as though hinged, and thus the strain is largely borne by the +curved portion of the bow. Now this portion is cut from the concave +side of a tree that has been bent while growing, and consequently the +fibres of the wood are here stronger, tougher and more elastic. The +result is that for a given amount of energy spent in drawing the bow a +greater force of propulsion is given to the arrow than with a bow of +the Little Andaman type. + +The breadth of the bow is necessitated by its shape, for if it were +narrow the string would slip round on to the outside of the bow. The +narrowing at the handle is necessary for holding the bow. The adoption +of tapered ends instead of shoulders is a definite improvement as it +makes the bow less liable to split at the ends. + +The bows of the South Andaman group of tribes are always decorated with +incised patterns. The conventional pattern is shown in Fig. 10. One +line of such pattern runs down each edge of both the inside and the +outside of the bow, and on the inside a similar line of pattern runs +down the middle. When bows are newly made they are often also decorated +with designs in red paint and white clay, particularly if they are +intended as gifts. These painted designs soon wear off and are not +renewed. + +In these tribes bows are sometimes made of a size so large as to be +almost useless for hunting. One such bow, now in the Cambridge Museum, +is 220 cm. long and with a maximum breadth of 10 cm. Such bows are very +carefully made and decorated and are intended as gifts. A man generally +makes such a bow with the deliberate intention of giving it to some +person whom he wishes to please. The bow that I have was specially made +to give to me in this way. A man who possessed such a bow would not +dream of using it in hunting, but he might use it in a shooting match, +in order to show his skill. + +In the South Andaman tribes toy bows are made for boys of somewhat the +same shape as the ordinary hunting bow. An example of such a bow, now +in the Cambridge Museum, is 121 cm. long. It is cut from a bent piece +of wood in such a way that the lower portion is curved outwards. The +section in the middle is plano-convex, very nearly the half of a +circle, the breadth being 26 mm. and the thickness 13 mm. It is +broadest in the middle, and tapers towards each end. When strung it +assumes the typical S-shape of the South Andaman bow. It is served over +with thread at one end and with a strip of cotton cloth at the other, +leaving two points for the string. The latter is of the usual South +Andaman type, but of smaller dimensions. + +We must turn now to the bow used by the four tribes of the North +Andaman, which is of a somewhat different pattern from that just +described. It is, in the first place, shorter, lighter and more +slenderly made. Of ten typical specimens the shortest is 153 cm. long, +and the longest is 182 cm. The usual length is about 160 to 165 cm. In +its broadest part the North Andaman bow is broader than the South +Andaman bow, the breadth varying from 6·5 to 7·5 cm. in different +specimens. + +Although the North Andaman bow is, as a rule, cut from a curved piece +of wood, it may, on occasion, be cut from a piece that is practically +straight. + +At the upper end of the bow there is a long point. In a specimen that +is in every way typical, at about 5 cm. from the point the section is +circular and the diameter is about 5 mm.; at about 30 cm. from the end +the section is slightly flattened or oval, and the maximum diameter +(the breadth from side to side) is about 1·5 cm. From this the bow +broadens fairly rapidly, until at a distance of about 60 cm. from the +end it is 7 cm. broad. The section at a point 60 cm. from the end is +shown in Fig. 11, where it may be seen to be convex on the outside and +only very slightly convex on the inside. At about 75 cm. from the end +the bow narrows in breadth to form a handle, at the same time +increasing slightly in thickness. The handle is approximately circular +in section in the middle, which is about 95 cm. from the upper end, and +about 80 cm. from the lower end, the diameter being about 2·2 cm. Below +the handle the bow broadens out once more into a lower blade which in +shape and section is similar to the upper blade. At a distance of about +30 cm. from the lower end the bow once more narrows off to a point +approximately circular in section. The lower point of the bow is not so +long or so tapering as the upper point. + +The whole bow thus consists of two blade-shaped portions tapering to a +point at each end, and with a waist or handle between them. The upper +blade is straight, i.e. is not curved either outwards or inwards. The +lower blade is curved outwards (like that of the South Andaman bow) in +nearly every newly made bow and in every bow that has been in use. + +The upper part of the bow is served over with string for about 1·5 cm. +(at a distance of 15·5 cm. from the end in the bow that has been +described), and the lower end is similarly served (at a distance of 6 +cm. from the end). The general shape of the bow as seen from inside is +shown in Fig. 12. + +The bow-string of the North Andaman is made from Anadendron fibre in +much the same way as described in connection with the South Andaman +bow, but in the North there is a loop or eye at both ends of the +string. As soon as the first few centimetres of the cord have been made +(by the method previously described) it is bent over into a loop, and +this loop is served with Anadendron thread, just as in the case of the +South Andaman string. The making of the string then proceeds in the +usual way until a sufficient length has been made, this depending, of +course, on the length of the bow for which it is intended. The end is +then bent over into a loop, and this loop is served over with thread. +The loose end of fibre is not in this case (as it is in the South +Andaman string) twisted round the standing part of the cord, but is +laid beside it, and the thread that has been used for serving is wound +spirally round them both for a distance of about 10 cm. from the neck +of the loop, so that the end is stopped. + +When the bow is to be strung the first made loop is slipped over the +top end of the bow so that it rests on the thread serving already +mentioned, the neck of the loop being on the inside of the bow. The bow +is then laid on the ground, inside downwards, a foot is placed on the +middle, and the lower end of the bow is bent upwards (and therefore +outwards) far enough to allow the other loop of the cord to be slipped +over the end. The bow is now in what may be called the half-strung +position, and in order to understand the mechanical principles of this +type of bow it is necessary to make quite clear what this position is. +It is shown in Fig. 13, A. The string passes from the top to the bottom +on the outside of the bow, so that the bow is, so to speak, reversed, +and is subjected to a strain that causes it to curve outwards. In most +bows, when they are first made, there is an outward curve in the lower +portion, owing to the bow having been cut from a curved piece of wood. +When the bow is half strung this outward curvature is increased. If a +bow be made from a straight piece of wood, an outward curve is produced +by the operation of stringing it, as described above. + +As soon as a bow is completed it is strung in the reversed position +described, and is then placed over a fire, in such a position that the +lower (curved) blade is immediately above the fire. The smoke and heat +of the fire season the wood of this portion of the bow. Any specimen of +a bow of this type, unless it has been newly made and not seasoned, is +blackened on the inner surface of its lower part. The bow is left to +season in this way for some time. A man places his bow over the fire of +his own hut, which is kept constantly burning day and night. It must be +remembered that all the time it is being seasoned the bow is subjected +to a slight strain curving it outwards. + +After the bow has been sufficiently seasoned it is brought into use. +When a bow that is half strung or strung in a reversed way is to be +used, it is taken by the handle in the left hand, with the string away +from the body, the bow being upside down. The lower part of the bow +(i.e. what is really the top of the bow when it is in its normal +position) is rested against the thigh. The string is taken in the right +hand and pulled over towards the body, so that the bow reverses itself +and appears in the fully strung position shown in Fig. 13, B. It is +then ready for immediate use. + +A bow of this type is hardly ever entirely unstrung. When a man has +finished with his bow for the time being, he puts it once more in the +half-strung position, by an action the reverse of that described above, +and then hangs the bow over the fire. Thus while the bow is in active +use it is in the fully strung position, and at all other times it is +kept in the half-strung position. + +It is clear that the North Andaman bow depends on a principle that is +not made use of in the South Andaman bow, which we may state by saying +that if a piece of wood be subjected to the influence of heat and smoke +while it is bent in one position it will acquire greater strength and +elasticity to react against a strain that bends it in the opposite +direction. When the bow is fully strung it is S-shaped. When it is +drawn the greater part of the strain falls on the lower portion where +it is curved outwards. It is this portion of the bow that is +strengthened by seasoning. + +The North Andaman bow is very much lighter than the South Andaman bow +and is much more elastic. I always found it very difficult to shoot +with a South Andaman bow, but on the other hand I found the North +Andaman bow very easy to use. In drawing it only a slight pull is +required in order to send an arrow with considerable velocity. The +disadvantage of the northern bow is that, owing to its slighter build, +it does not last very long, and is liable to be broken. However, it +only takes a man a few days to make a new bow, string included, and the +very definite superiority of the North Andaman bow over that of the +South Andaman amply compensates for its shorter life. + +Bows of exactly the same shape but of smaller dimensions are made in +the North Andaman for boys, the length varying from about 90 cm. to +about 120 cm. For very small boys toy bows of a different pattern are +made. The bow is formed of a piece of wood about 90 cm. long and from 2 +to 2·5 cm. broad in the middle. The section in the middle is +convexo-convex, with a high degree of convexity on the outside and a +much slighter convexity on the inside. The bow tapers to a point at +each end, but it tapers more gradually at the top than at the bottom. +The bow-string is a simple piece of string (two-ply) made of Anadendron +fibre. It is tied to the lower end of the bow at a distance of 1·5 to 3 +cm. from the end, and at the top it is tied at from 4 to 7 cm. from the +end. The shape of a toy bow of this kind as seen from the side is shown +in Fig. 14. It is not S-shaped, like the toy bow of the South Andaman +previously described, but the curvature is asymmetrical. + +I obtained a specimen of a toy bow made of bamboo. Unfortunately there +was no string, but it was probably intended to be strung in the fashion +of the North Andaman toy bow just described. The outer surface of the +bamboo was the outside of the bow, with the result that in section the +inner side of the bow was more convex than the outer side. This is the +only bow in the whole of the Andamans in which I ever saw this feature. +In all other bows of whatever type the outer side is markedly convex +and the inner side is either concave, flat or only slightly convex. + +It is now possible to compare one with another the different forms of +bow in use in the Andamans. It would seem almost certain that the North +Andaman bow can only have been derived from the form in use in the +South Andaman or from one very similar to it. It is only after they +were in the habit of making bows with an outward curve in the lower +portion that the natives could have devised the method of seasoning +this portion of the bow and keeping it in the reversed or half-strung +position. It is unnecessary to argue the matter in detail, and we may +conclude that the North Andaman type is derived from the South Andaman +type. + +It is less certain, but still highly probable, that the South Andaman +form was derived from a bow similar to that still in use in the Little +Andaman. The South Andaman toy bow shows a stage intermediate between +the Little Andaman bow and the usual South Andaman form. The section of +this toy bow is very similar to that of the Little Andaman bow. It has +no blades, and therefore no waist for the handle. The shape, however, +is asymmetrical. Owing to the different method of stringing it, the +shoulder at the end of the bow is unnecessary, and the bow is +strengthened (prevented from splitting so easily) by tapering the end +to a point instead. The difference between the toy bow and the general +South Andaman bow is the presence in the latter of the two blades and +the waist. The broadening of the bow into the blades is necessary in +order to prevent it from accidentally reversing itself. + +We have still to consider the modified form of the Jarawa bow. The +origin of this is easy to discover by the examination of a few typical +specimens. Since the Jarawa have been in the South Andaman they have +been in hostile contact with the tribes of the South Andaman Division. +They have had opportunities of handling bows of the kind made by these +tribes, and they have apparently discovered that these bows are more +efficient than their own, but they have had no opportunity, such as +only friendly intercourse would give, of discovering the principles on +which the South Andaman bow is made. They have attempted to imitate it +to the best of their ability, and this they have done (1) by making +their bows longer and broader, (2) by making them concavo-convex in +section instead of convexo-convex, (3) by cutting them occasionally +from wood that gives them an outward curve in the lower portion, (4) by +imitating the shape of the handle without, however, giving the bow a +waist, (5) by serving over the bow-string with thread at the point +where the arrow touches it, (6) by ornamenting their bows with incised +and painted patterns. These are the only differences between the +modified Jarawa type and the Little Andaman type, and all these may be +explained as attempts to imitate the bows of the South Andaman +Division. In not a single one of the modified Jarawa bows that I have +seen is the fundamental principle of the South Andaman bow successfully +applied. + +We may conclude that the ancestors of the Andamanese at one time used a +bow resembling that in use in the Little Andaman at the present day, +and that the S-shaped bow of the Great Andaman has been invented since +the separation of the two main divisions of the race. + +It is not possible, owing to lack of sufficient information, to +determine exactly the types of bow used by the Semang. The following +notes are based on only six specimens, two of which are in the Museum +of Ethnology at Cambridge [249], while the others are in the British +Museum. Four of the specimens are sufficiently similar to one another +to be regarded as belonging to one type, which seems to be the usual +type of Semang bow. In length they are 165, 174·5, 182 and 197·5 cm., +and at the middle they vary in breadth between 2·5 and 3 cm. Three are +of palm-wood, and the other is of a light-coloured but tough kind of +wood. The shape of the section in the middle of the bow varies +considerably in the different specimens, as shown in Fig. 15. There is +some uncertainty as to which is the inside, and which is the outside of +the bow. At each end there is a shoulder, the point or tip at one end +being in every instance considerably longer than the other. The string +in each case is a three-ply rope, having a spliced eye at one end and +being fastened to the bow with a knot at the other end. + +The other two specimens do not conform to this type. One is of wood, +134 cm. long, and 3·5 cm. broad in the middle. One end is provided with +a notch on each side for the string, while the other end has three +pairs of notches. The string is a three-ply cord with a loop or eye at +each end. The other specimen is made of bamboo, and is 147 cm. long and +2·25 cm. broad in the middle. One end has one pair of notches and the +other has two pairs. The string is two-ply with a loop at each end. + +What we may perhaps regard as the usual type of Semang bow thus differs +from the bow of the Little Andaman in three important respects, (1) in +having a longer point at one end than at the other [250], (2) in having +a string of three-ply rope instead of a strand of twisted fibre, and +(3) in the variations in the section at the middle. From the four +specimens available it is not possible to determine around what norm or +norms the section of different specimens varies. + +Turning to the Negritos of the Philippine Islands, although a number of +bows have been described by Meyer [251], the available information is +not sufficient to enable us to determine what are the different types, +and what is their relation one to another. Amongst the different +varieties of bow used by the Negritos there is one which is very +similar to the bow of the Little Andaman. It has a rounded or convex +outer side, and a flattened inner side. The string loops on to a point +at each end, and the string itself is formed of twisted fibre. + +From a study of the available material it seems that we are justified +in concluding that the primitive Negrito bow was made of wood, with a +shoulder at each end, probably with a section rounded on one side and +flattened or keeled on the other, and that it had a string of twisted +fibre with a loop or eye at one end, the other end being attached with +a knot. + +The Andaman Islanders use two different kinds of arrows, one for +shooting fish and the other for shooting pigs. + +The common fish-arrow, as at present used in all parts of the Great +Andaman Division, consists of three parts—a shaft, a fore-shaft, and a +point. The shaft is a length of bamboo straightened by means of heat, +and may vary in length from 70 to 110 cm. At one end the bamboo is cut +off about 3 cm. beyond one of the nodes, and a nock is made (Fig. 16). +At this end the shaft is roughened with a Cyrena shell so as to give a +firm grip for the fingers. At the other end the shaft is tapered for +about a centimetre. At this end the bamboo is roughened with a shell to +give a hold to the thread with which it is bound. The fore-shaft is a +length of wood from 15 to 40 cm. long. One end is slightly tapered so +that it fits tightly into the end of the bamboo shaft. The other end is +tapered to a point, which is flattened on one side. The fore-shaft is +inserted into the end of the shaft and the joint is bound over for a +distance of about 2·5 cm. with thread. The point consists of a piece of +iron wire, sharply pointed at both ends. This is laid against the +flattened side of the fore-shaft and is bound to it with thread in such +a way that one point projects at the back to form a barb (Fig. 16). +When the binding is completed it is covered entirely over with a +composition made by melting together bees’-wax, resin and red ochre. +The composition is melted over a fire, is applied with a short piece of +wood and is then smoothed over with a hot Cyrena shell. Only the +binding attaching the point to the fore-shaft is covered with +composition, and not that at the joining of the fore-shaft and the +shaft. + +Arrows of this kind are used for shooting fish, but they also serve to +shoot snakes or rats and on rare occasions birds. + +Similar fish-arrows are made in the Little Andaman, but they are larger +(i.e. both longer and thicker) than those of the Great Andaman +Division. The two ends of the bamboo shaft are not roughened, and the +binding attaching the point to the fore-shaft is not covered with +composition (which seems to be unknown in the Little Andaman) but with +bees’-wax only. + +This seems to be the traditional form of fish-arrow of the Andamans. +Before iron was plentiful the point consisted either of the serrated +bone from the tail of the sting-ray or of a piece of the tibia of a pig +ground down to the requisite dimensions on a piece of stone, and +sharpened at each end. + +In the Little Andaman fish-arrows are sometimes used with two or four +prongs attached to a bamboo shaft. In the British Museum there is an +arrow from the North Sentinel Island with four prongs tied on to a +wooden shaft, each prong being barbed by a detached piece of wood at +the end. + +A simple form of arrow is made in both the Great Andaman and the Little +Andaman consisting of a bamboo shaft with a pointed wooden head, the +point being hardened in the fire. Such arrows are now very rarely used, +save for shooting at a mark, but it is probable that before iron was +plentiful they were used as a substitute for the fish-arrow described +above, being easier to make although less serviceable. + +The pig-arrow in use in the Great Andaman consists of a shaft, and a +fore-shaft to which is attached a head. The shaft is a piece of the +wood of the Tetranthera lancæfolia, cut from the tree and straightened +by means of heat. At the narrower end a nock about 1 cm. deep is cut, +and the arrow is served with thread of Anadendron fibre for about 1·6 +cm. above the nock, in order to prevent splitting. At the other end the +shaft is hollowed out to a depth of about a centimetre. This hollowing +is done with the point of a fish-arrow or other similar piece of +pointed iron. For a distance of about 1·5 cm. the end of the shaft is +served over with thread of Anadendron fibre, so as to prevent it from +splitting. + +The fore-shaft consists of a piece of tough wood one end of which is +cut to such a size that it will fit fairly tightly into the hollow at +the end of the shaft. At the other end it is split so as to admit the +head. + +The head consists of a piece of iron broken into shape with the aid of +a stone hammer and then ground down and sharpened on a whet-stone or +with a file if one be obtainable. The usual shape is shown in Fig. 17. +The head is inserted into the split end of the fore-shaft and the end +of the latter is then served over with thread. A few centimetres below +the head either one or two sharp-pointed pieces of iron wire are placed +against the fore-shaft in the same plane as the head and are bound +firmly to it with the thread, so as to provide a barb or barbs. + +A cord is made and one end of it is attached to the shaft and the other +end to the fore-shaft. This cord is made as follows. A number of +strands of Anadendron fibre are taken and waxed with bees’-wax. These +are made into a cord by the same method as that described in connection +with the Great Andaman bow-string, one strand being wrapped round the +others. About 40 cm. of single cord is made in this way and the two +ends are tied together. A piece of elastic wood is bent into the form +of an arc and the loop of cord is placed over this so that it is +stretched tight. A length of thread (of Anadendron fibre) is made and +wound on to a fine netting needle or on to a thin slip of wood, and the +two cords as they are stretched side by side are bound together with +this thread by the process known as “nippering” (Fig. 19). In this way +a firm and strong flattened cord is produced. One end of this is +fastened to the fore-shaft immediately above the end that fits into the +shaft. The other end is fastened to the shaft a few centimetres from +the end, leaving a short length of the shaft around which the cord may +be spirally wound when the arrow is in use. (Fig. 18.) + +Finally, the thread on the fore-shaft, i.e. that which holds the head +and barbs in place, and also that which serves to attach the end of the +cord, are covered with the composition already described as used on +fish-arrows. + +Arrows of this kind are used in pig-hunting. The fore-shaft is inserted +into the end of the shaft, the cord attaching the two being wound +spirally round the end of the shaft. When a pig is struck the barbs +prevent the head from coming out of the wound. As the pig attempts to +run away the shaft catches against the undergrowth of the jungle and +comes loose from the fore-shaft. Sooner or later the shaft becomes +entangled in the undergrowth and holds the wounded pig fast till the +hunters can come up with it and despatch it. It is obvious that the +cord of the arrow needs to be so strong that the pig cannot break it. + +The natives of the Great Andaman tribes say that before they had plenty +of iron they made similar pig-arrows with heads of shell and barbs of +pig’s bone. + +The natives of the Little Andaman make a pig-arrow very similar to that +of the Great Andaman tribes, but on the average somewhat longer. The +cord attaching the fore-shaft to the shaft consists of a length of +double two-ply rope of Hibiscus fibre. The binding of the arrow is done +with thread of the Gnetum fibre instead of Anadendron, and is not +coated with composition but is smeared with bees’-wax. The barb (there +being usually only one) is not fixed in the same plane as the head, but +in the plane at right angles to it. (Fig. 20.) + +Amongst the Jarawa the head of the pig-arrow is attached to the +fore-shaft by a different method, holes being made in the iron through +which the thread that holds it is passed. (Fig. 21.) + +Another kind of pig-arrow is sometimes made in the Great Andaman that +has not a detachable head. The shaft is a length of bamboo into one end +of which is fitted a fore-shaft of wood. The end of this fore-shaft is +split and a head of iron is inserted into it and bound there. Such an +arrow may be without barbs or may have one or two barbs of iron. It is +used only rarely and then chiefly for despatching a pig that has +already been struck by an arrow of the usual kind. The natives say that +in former times arrows of this kind were used in fighting in preference +to ordinary pig-arrows, which, however, were also used. + +In former times the natives of the Great Andaman, according to their +own statements, made an arrow consisting of a bamboo shaft at the end +of which was inserted a head made of Areca wood. An arrow of this kind, +made for me by a native, is shown in Fig. 22. + +None of the arrows made in any part of the Andamans is feathered. + +In a comparison of the arrows of the Andamanese with those of the +Semang and the Philippine Negritos the most interesting point is that +all three branches of the Negrito race use arrows with detachable +heads. Arrows of this kind from the Philippines are described by Meyer +[252]. + +An important point of difference would seem to be that while the +Andamanese do not feather their arrows the Semang and the Negritos of +the Philippines do so. It would seem, however, from the account of +Semang arrows given by Skeat [253] that the feathering is such that it +is of no actual service in directing the flight of the weapon, and that +it is doubtful whether the Semang really understand the principle of +feathering, or whether they do not employ it as the mutilated survival +of more intelligent methods or perhaps make use of it for solely +magical purposes. + +Another important point of difference is that the Semang poison their +arrows, while the Andamanese do not. In this connection it must be +remembered that the former people have for long been neighbours of +people who use blow-pipes with poisoned darts. + +After the bow and arrow the most important hunting weapon of the Great +Andaman is the harpoon which is used in capturing dugong, turtle, +porpoise, and large fish. The harpoon consists of a head, a shaft and a +line. The line is a length of rope of Hibiscus fibre of as much as +twenty fathoms or more in length. The shaft is a bamboo of about 18 +feet in length. One end is cut off fairly near a node and is then +served over with thread, and slightly hollowed. The head consists of a +long piece of iron, such as a stout nail, brought to a sharp point at +one end. The other end is served over with thread in such a way as to +make it fit fairly tightly into the end of the bamboo shaft. Some +distance from the point of the head two barbs of iron are attached by +thread, and between this point and the lower end the line is attached. +(See Fig. 23.) + +A man using the harpoon stands on the forward platform of the canoe, +holding the bamboo shaft in his hand. The head is inserted in the upper +end of this, and the line passes over his shoulder and is coiled in the +bottom of the canoe, the other end being attached to the forward +out-rigger boom or to the thwart that takes its place in a large canoe. +He poles the canoe along the reef with the harpoon shaft. When about to +make a throw he raises the shaft till he can hold the butt end in his +right hand, with the point directed towards the fish or turtle, and he +then leaps forward so that if he succeeds in his aim the weapon strikes +with all the force of his weight behind it. When the turtle or fish is +struck the bamboo shaft floats loose and this is secured by the man in +the water, who returns to the canoe. It may be necessary to strike the +prey with a second harpoon, but if the first was well thrown the animal +is firmly held by the line. + +Harpoons are not used in the Little Andaman. The natives of the Great +Andaman say that they themselves have only used them since they were +able to obtain iron and that before that time they could only capture +turtle and dugong in nets. It would seem therefore that the harpoon has +been invented or adopted by the tribes of the Great Andaman Division in +comparatively recent times, and was not an element of the primitive +Andamanese culture. + +The turtle net is no longer used, as the natives prefer the harpoon and +have all the iron they need. Such nets were formerly made of rope of +Hibiscus fibre. A net was about 150 cm. in width and of variable +length. One specimen that was made for me had an open mesh of about 25 +cm. square, while another had a smaller mesh. The knot used in a net +from the South Andaman is the ordinary fisherman’s knot shown in Fig. +24 b. In a net from the North Andaman the knot used is a slip-knot, one +strand being tied with an overhand knot over another which it crosses +at right angles as shown in Fig. 25. + +Each end of the turtle net is attached to a stake pointed at the lower +end. The lower edge of the net is weighted with stones attached as +shown in Fig. 24, while to the upper edge are attached a number of +floats, each consisting of a long thin stick of Hibiscus wood to the +upper end of which is attached a tassel of fibre. + +The net was placed in shallow water so that the stones rested on the +bottom while the tassels at the upper ends of the floats appeared above +the surface. As soon as a turtle was entangled in the net the agitation +could be observed by those watching who would proceed to the spot to +secure their capture. + +So far as is known it would seem that nets of this description are not +used in the Little Andaman. + +The Andamanese make practically no use of spears. At the present time +the natives of the Great Andaman Division sometimes make pig-spears of +a length of stout cane or rattan with a head of iron attached. The +natives themselves say that such spears have only been made since the +occupation of the islands, and it is probable that they were first made +in imitation of spears used by Burmese convicts for pig-hunting. They +are hardly ever used, the pig-arrow being preferred. + +The true fish-spear is unknown in the Andamans though use is sometimes +made of a harpoon similar to the turtle harpoon, but of smaller +dimensions and with a finer line, for harpooning fish. + +In the North Andaman a sort of fish-gig was formerly in use made of +about twelve pieces of Areca wood of about 105 to 110 cm. long and 1 +cm. or less broad and with tapered and sharp-pointed ends. These were +fastened side by side by means of a strip of wood near one end, as +shown in Fig. 26. This weapon was used for spearing small fish in pools +on the reef. + + + +CUTTING IMPLEMENTS. + +At the present time the Andamanese make use of iron for their cutting +implements. It is uncertain when they first learnt the use of iron, but +it was certainly before the end of the eighteenth century. What iron +they had was obtained from wrecks, of which there have always been a +number on the Andamans. The metal has only become plentiful since the +European settlement of 1858. + +It is highly probable that the Andamanese, though they may have learnt +the use of iron from implements used by visitors to their shores, have +not learnt from any other people the method of working the metal. Even +at the present day they do not make any use of heat in the manufacture +of their iron implements, the metal being worked cold. It seems highly +probable that they have simply adopted in connection with iron the +methods they formerly used in dealing with other materials, +particularly shells. + +The materials used by the Andamanese, apart from iron, are wood, bone, +shell and stone. We may begin by considering their use of stone. + +In former times quartz flakes were used by the Andamanese for the two +purposes of shaving and scarifying the skin, and for hardly any other +purpose. (Among minor uses of stone flakes may be mentioned those of +cutting the finger-nails, and sharpening boars’ tusks.) A quartz pebble +is held in the left hand and is struck with a hard rounded pebble of +any suitable kind. A flake is thus knocked off and falls into the palm +of the left hand. The flake is examined, and if it be suitable it is at +once used. If it be unsuitable it is thrown away and another made. For +shaving, flakes with a sharp blade-like edge are required; for +scarifying, flakes with a fine point are preferred. A flake is used +till its fine edge is lost and is then thrown away and another made. +Thus a woman who is shaving some one’s head may use as many as twenty +flakes one after another, and to obtain twenty suitable flakes she +probably makes as many as forty or even more. The kitchen-middens or +heaps of refuse that are found on the sites of old encampments contain +thousands of quartz pebbles that have been used as cores, and thousands +of flakes. + +Besides quartz there is a flinty kind of stone that is used in much the +same way for making flakes. Suitable pieces of the stone are obtained +and are placed in the fire for a few hours. They are taken out, and +when they are cold are used in exactly the same way as a quartz pebble. + +At the present time quartz is hardly ever used in this way, for the +natives greatly prefer glass, and they obtain sufficient old bottles +from Port Blair to satisfy their requirements. The bottom of a bottle +is treated in every way as though it was a quartz pebble, a flake being +knocked off and used, and then another and so on till the operation in +hand (whether shaving or scarifying) is completed. The flake is held +between the thumb and first finger when it is being used. In no case is +a flake of quartz or glass ever kept. It is only made when required and +after having been used is thrown away. + +The natives themselves say that they formerly never made any use of +stone for cutting purposes save in the case of stone flakes as +described above. As against this there are three statements that must +be considered. Colebrooke, who visited the islands in 1789, says of the +Andamanese that “their canoes are hollowed out of the trunks of trees +by means of fire and instruments of stone, having no iron in use +amongst them, except such utensils as they have procured from the +Europeans and sailors who have lately visited these islands; or from +the wrecks of vessels formerly stranded on their coasts.” The accuracy +of Colebrooke’s statement is made doubtful by the fact that at the +present time (since 1858) the natives do not use fire in making their +canoes, and it seems improbable that if they had this custom in 1789 +they should have discontinued it and have entirely forgotten that it +ever existed. Further if they used implements of stone in 1789 it is +certainly strange that by 1858 they should have entirely forgotten that +they ever did so. When Mr Man was making his enquiries the oldest men +all agreed in stating that they never used stone for their adzes. We +may conclude that Colebrooke’s statement is untrustworthy. + +Stoliczka records the finding in the South Andaman of a stone celt and +a stone arrow-head in the kitchen-middens of the South Andaman. The +chief reason for doubting the value of this find is that Stoliczka +states that these implements were made of tertiary sandstone, which it +is very hard to believe would be of any use whatever. We may therefore +adopt the opinion of M. Lapicque [254] that Stoliczka had found +fragments of a whet-stone of sandstone and had been mislead into +thinking that he had found an axe and an arrow-head. + +A third statement that needs to be considered is one by Mr Portman, who +presented to the British Museum an arrow with a head of stone made +specially for him by a native of the North Andaman who stated that in +former times such arrow-heads were used by the Andamanese. At the +present time the arrow-head is broken and it would seem to be so +fragile as to be entirely worthless for the purpose to which it was +supposed to be put. The natives of the North Andaman whom I questioned +stated that they did not use stone for their arrow-heads, but shell. We +may therefore hold that the evidence given by Mr Portman is not at all +satisfactory. + +In the Akar-Bale tribe I heard a legend that at a certain spot there is +a kind of stone which was used by the ancestors for making adzes. I +visited the spot and the stone was pointed out to me. Unfortunately the +specimen that I took was lost and I am therefore unable to state what +the stone was, but it was such that it would have been utterly +impossible to make any sort of adze out of it. It was of a crystalline +nature and was easily fractured by a blow against even a soft substance +such as wood. It was clear that the native statements about it were +merely a legend having no historical value. + +We may justifiably conclude that it is probable that the statement of +the natives to the effect that before they possessed iron in any +quantity they made their adzes and arrow-heads out of shell and not out +of stone, is correct. Their use of stone for cutting was therefore +confined to the flakes which have been described. + +The most important material to the Andamanese seems to have been shell. +Mollusc shells were used in the natural form or after having been +manufactured. The chief shell used in its natural form is the Cyrena +which serves at the present time as a knife, a scraper and a spoon. +Even when they have knives of iron and steel they still use the Cyrena +shell in preference for some purposes. It is used as a scraper in +preparing fibres for rope and thread, in making arrows, as a knife for +cutting thatching leaves and cane and even thread and rope, and for +making incised patterns on bows and arrows. The shells are always to be +found lying about their encampments, and a few are always carried with +them when they migrate to a fresh camp. Those living inland obtain +their supply of shells from their friends on the coast. + +When in use the shell is clasped between the thumb and first finger, +the thumb passing over the convex side and the finger round the hinged +edge. The remaining fingers are used to clasp the object that is being +scraped or cut. In cutting, the motion is away from the body, being +produced by a twist of the wrist. In scraping the motion is away from +the body, or from left to right. A knife of iron or steel is held in +this way by the natives whenever it is used for any purpose for which +they formerly would have used a shell. The blade is clasped near the +handle between the thumb and first finger, the back of the blade +pressing against the root of the thumb, and the handle away from the +body. + +Another shell that is used in its natural form is a small whelk shell +that is used as a scraper for scraping off the outer skin of mangrove +seeds in preparing them for food. + +A shell that is used in very nearly its natural form is a kind of pearl +shell that grows along creeks through the mangrove swamps. The shell is +only very slightly curved and it is for this reason that it is selected +as suitable. The weak edge or lip of the valve is broken away, and the +edge is then slightly ground on a stone. This implement is used by +women for slicing yams and certain other vegetables such as some kinds +of seeds when they are being prepared for food. + +The natives say that before iron was plentiful they used shells for the +heads of their pig-arrows. Several different species of shell seem to +have been used, the chief concern being to obtain a piece of sufficient +size that was as nearly flat as possible. Such shells are those +belonging to the larger bivalves. The natives state that their method +of working the shell was to break it roughly into shape with stones and +then grind it down on a whet-stone until it was given a sufficiently +sharp point and edge. Some arrow-heads of shell were made for me by +this method at my request by one of the old men of the North Andaman. + +The natives state that before they had iron they made their adzes of +shell. Two different men of the North Andaman made two shell adzes for +me, one of Pinna shell, and the other of a shell that I omitted to +identify. The Pinna shell adze seemed to me only suitable for light +work such as finishing off a bow or a canoe, as it seemed likely to +break under a strong blow. The other adze was much stronger and +therefore capable of heavy work, and although the edge seemed to me to +make it a poor implement with which to cut down a tree yet it certainly +did not seem less suitable than the stone adzes used by many primitive +peoples. If I were given a choice of implements with which to fell a +tree, between the shell adze of the Andamanese and a stone axe of +South-western Australia I should certainly choose the former. + +According to the natives they formerly used bone for the points of +their fish-arrows and for the barbs of their pig-arrows. For both of +these purposes they now use iron. The bone was broken into a piece of +suitable length and then ground down with a whet-stone. Apparently the +bone most frequently used was the tibia of the pig. For their +fish-arrows they also made use of the bone of the tail of the +sting-ray,—its “sting.” When the fish was caught the bone was knocked +off and reserved for use. It required no treatment whatever, being +simply bound on to the point of the fore-shaft in the same way that an +iron point is now attached. + +Colebrooke, in 1789, described their arrows as “headed with fish-bones +or the tusks of wild hogs, sometimes merely with a sharp bit of wood +hardened in the fire.” By fish-bone he probably means the bone of the +sting-ray. Where he writes the tusks of wild hogs we should probably +read “the bones.” A boar’s tusk is curved, and it seems impossible to +imagine how it could possibly be used as an arrow-head or arrow-point. + +The boar’s tusk is used by the Andamanese as an implement, however, +making a very efficient sort of spokeshave. The edge which is used is +kept sharp by scraping with a quartz or glass flake or with a Cyrena +shell. The edge is near the point (at a in Fig. 27) and the tusk is +clasped at the other end between the forefinger and the root of the +thumb (at b in Fig. 27), the movement being away from the body. It is +used for planing bows and paddles, and in the hands of an Andaman +Islander is a very efficient implement, producing a beautifully smooth +and even surface. + +Of wood the Andamanese formerly made knives and arrow-points. The +knives were made of a slip of bamboo or cane shaped and sharpened with +a Cyrena shell. Such knives were used for cutting meat and apparently +for no other purpose. A knife was always attached by a short length of +cord to a skewer of pointed Areca wood. The double implement was used +in cooking and eating, the skewer serving to lift pieces of meat in and +out of a pot, while the knife served to cut them. At the present time +the cane or bamboo knife is replaced by a knife made from hoop-iron, +but the shape of the original implement is retained as nearly as +possible and a skewer of Areca wood is generally attached to it. + +As has been already stated the Andamanese formerly used hard wood such +as that of the Areca palm for the points and heads of their arrows. +They do not seem to have made use of bamboo in this way. + +At the present time iron is used for the blades of adzes, for the heads +and barbs of pig-arrows, the points of fish-arrows, the heads of +harpoons, and for knives. The method of working the metal is apparently +exactly the same as the method they formerly used for working shell and +bone. For the head of a pig-arrow a suitable piece of iron is taken and +a fragment of about the right size is broken off by means of a stone +hammer. This is then roughly broken into the required shape, no heat +being used, and no advantage being taken of the malleability of the +metal. The next process is to grind it on a whet-stone. The natives are +always eager to obtain files which enable them to do this part of the +work much more rapidly. When the arrow-head has been ground into shape +the edges are sharpened. Blades for adzes are made in exactly the same +way from any suitable piece of iron or steel, such as a cutlass or an +old file or a piece of thick hoop-iron. The adze-blade is attached to a +handle of mangrove wood by the method shown in Fig. 28. + +The barbs of pig-arrows and the points of fish-arrows are made in the +same way by breaking the metal into a suitable shape and then grinding +it on a whet-stone. It is probable that this was the method that was +formerly used for dealing with bone for these purposes. + +In the case of the knife, iron or steel is now substituted for cane or +bamboo, but the knife has retained its shape in spite of the change of +material. The shape of a knife, whether of cane or of iron, with its +attached skewer of Areca wood is shown in Fig. 28. + +In the case of the harpoon the native tradition is that this implement +was only made after they had discovered the use of iron. + +At the present time both the Semang and the Negritos of the Philippines +make use of iron. The Semang heat the iron until it is red-hot and then +batter it into shape between two stones [255]. The shapes of the iron +weapons and implements which they make follow fairly closely those made +by the Malays. + +In an attempt to reconstruct the primitive Negrito culture it would +seem that the most reasonable hypothesis is that the primitive Negritos +had no knowledge of iron and had not learnt to fashion implements out +of stone, but relied entirely on such materials as wood, bone and +shell. The Andamanese, becoming possessed of iron through wrecks upon +their islands, applied to it the technique that they had developed for +dealing with shell, and thereby invented their present method of +working iron without heating it. The Semang and the Negritos of the +Philippines probably first learnt the use of iron from their neighbours +of other races. There is not at present any evidence to show that the +Negritos ever had any method of working stone except the very simple +one at present in use in the Andamans for making flakes. + + + +STRING, ROPE, MATS, BASKETS, AND NETTING. + +For string, rope and thread the Andaman Islanders make use of a number +of different vegetable substances, but they make no use whatever of any +animal substances. Some of the more important fibres, with their uses +and the methods of preparing them, are mentioned below. + +The bark of the Hibiscus tiliaceus, which occurs in the beach +vegetation in all parts of the islands, provides the Andamanese with +one of their most important fibres. By the coast-dwellers of the Great +and Little Andaman Divisions it is used for making rope. In the Great +Andaman Division the rope made from it was formerly used for making +turtle nets, and is now used for the lines of turtle harpoons, and for +hawsers to attach a canoe either to a stone used as an anchor or to a +tree. No other fibre is used for these purposes. The Hibiscus rope does +not seem to be much affected by salt water. The forest-dwellers of the +Great Andaman have less use for rope, and at the same time are not able +to obtain so readily the Hibiscus fibre. What rope they do have is +therefore obtained from the coast-dwellers or is made of some other +fibre. In the Little Andaman the Hibiscus is regularly used for rope. +It is also used for the short cord by which the detachable head of the +pig-arrow is attached to the shaft. In the Great Andaman a strip of the +bark of the Hibiscus is used for the sling in which children are +carried. Strips of the bark are worn by the women of the Little Andaman +across their shoulders and breasts, as a sort of ornament. + +To obtain the fibre young straight shoots of about 120 cm. in length +are cut from the tree, those free from gnarls, and having a smooth +bark, being chosen. The bark (inner and outer layers) is peeled off in +strips of from 1·5 to 3 cm. in width. The inner or liber layer is then +separated from the outer layer of the bark, is well scraped with a +Cyrena shell and dried in the sun or over a fire. When dry it is worked +in the hands until the various layers of fibre separate one from +another. It is then ready to be made into rope. The fibre is +interlacing, and when freshly made is a lustrous greyish brown. After +exposure to salt water it turns a dark brown. + +Mr E. H. Man, in his work on the Andamans, speaks of the Melochia +velutina as providing fibre for rope. This is an error. The tree to +which Mr Man refers is the Hibiscus tiliaceus. It is extremely common +on the shores of the islands, as it is in many other parts of the +tropics. It is very easily identified, as it bears its characteristic +yellow flowers for a long time every year. There is no doubt whatever +that this is the tree from which the natives regularly obtain the fibre +for the rope they use in turtle-hunting and fishing and in their +canoes. Other writers, following Mr Man, have repeated his error in +calling it the Melochia velutina, for example Sir Richard Temple and Mr +Portman. In Mr Portman’s collection of photographs in the British +Museum there is a good photograph of a Hibiscus tiliaceus tree labelled +“Melochia velutina.” I looked carefully in the Andaman jungles for the +Melochia velutina but was unable to find it, and I am quite certain +that in any case, even if it be found there, it is not commonly used by +the natives for rope. + +The bark of a number of other trees provides fibre of which the natives +occasionally make use. Amongst these are one or more species of +Sterculia (S. villosa?), and a tree that I identified somewhat +doubtfully as Grewia laevigata. The coarse fibre of the liber layer of +these trees may be made into rope by the same method as that employed +in dealing with Hibiscus tiliaceus. Very little actual use is made of +them however. A fibre which looks very like that obtained from one +species of Sterculia is frequently used by the natives of the Little +Andaman (and also by the Jarawa) for their personal ornaments. Mr +Portman says that this fibre is obtained from the Celtis cinnamonea. + +A species of Hibiscus, which I believe is Hibiscus scandens, growing in +the jungles and not along the shore, provides a fibre that is prized by +the natives of the Great Andaman tribes for making string or fine rope. +The fibre is less easily obtained than that of the Hibiscus tiliaceus, +but owing to its quality (it is not so interlacing) is capable of being +made into finer rope and string. It is often made into string and then +used for making netted bags. I did not find this fibre in use in the +Little Andaman, but as it is not very often met with even in the Great +Andaman, it may possibly be used in the Little Andaman. + +There are several species of Ficus in the Andaman forests, and the +natives know that they can obtain fibre from the bark of these trees. +The only one that is regularly made use of is the Ficus laccifera. The +natives of the Great Andaman Division use the bark of this tree for +making their personal ornaments. In the Little Andaman it is used for +bow-strings. A fibre called in the Little Andaman ulu, and said by Mr +Portman to be obtained from the Ficus hispida, is used in that island, +and by the Jarawa, for making personal ornaments. + +The Gnetum edule, a climbing plant that is fairly common, is used in +all parts of the Andamans for thread and string. The creeper is cut +into short lengths at the nodes and is dried for a few days. The outer +layer of bark is then scraped off with a Cyrena shell, and the liber +layer beneath it is peeled off in fine strips and these are made into +thread or string. This string is used in the Great Andaman Division for +making netted bags and fishing nets. In the Little Andaman it is used +for binding their arrows, as well as for netting. + +The most valuable fibre of the Great Andaman tribes is that of the +Anadendron paniculatum, which is used for string and thread and for +bow-strings. Until recent times the method of preparing the fibre was +not known to the natives of the Little Andaman, but they have now +learnt it from the natives of the Great Andaman with whom they have +been brought in contact, and the use of the fibre for string and thread +is coming in amongst them. + +The fibre is not easy to prepare. Long thin branches of the creeper are +cut, which must be neither too young nor too old. To obtain these it is +often necessary to climb up into high trees, for the Anadendron is a +climbing plant. The creeper is cut into lengths of from 20 to 40 cm. +The bark (inner and outer layers) is peeled off these in strips of from +7 to 10 mm. in width. A strip of the bark is taken and placed on the +thigh, inner surface downwards, and is scraped with a Cyrena shell +until the outer bark is entirely removed and the fibres remain clean +and separate. These are dried in the sun or over a fire and, if not +needed for immediate use, are stored for future occasion. The fibre is +fine and of a light greyish brown colour. In its qualities it somewhat +resembles ramie fibre. It is extremely strong. + +There are a number of other trees and plants that are known by the +natives to afford fibre, but they are not used, or if they are, it is +extremely rarely. + +The Andaman jungles have a number of different species of Calamus, and +the canes or rattans of these are put to all sorts of uses, such as the +making of baskets, the lashings and furnishings of canoes, and in +building huts. In the Little Andaman one species of cane is used to +provide the fibre for women’s belts. The outer skin is removed and the +remainder of the cane is divided into fine strips or threads. A bundle +of these tied together constitutes the belt worn by the women of the +Little Andaman. The outer sheath of the leaf-stem of the Calamus +tigrinus is used by the natives of the Great Andaman Division for +making mats. Lengths of the leaf-stem are cut and the outer skin is +removed in strips of about 3 to 5 mm. in width. The still adhering pith +is removed with a Cyrena shell, and the strips are dried in the sun and +then made into mats. + +The leaf-stem of a species of palm is cut while green and is then +shredded into long strips. The fibre thus obtained really consists of +the leaflets of the young unopened leaves of the palm. It is used in +the Little Andaman to make the tassel that women wear over the pudenda. +The women of the North Andaman formerly wore a tassel of this fibre, +but have now discontinued the custom, since their contact with the +South Andaman. In the Great Andaman tribes this material has important +ceremonial uses. It is called ko̱ro in Aka-Jeru and ara in Aka-Bea, and +has been frequently mentioned in this volume. A tassel of the fibre is +suspended near the grave of a dead person and at the entrance of the +village at which the death took place. In the North Andaman a suspended +cane hung with a fringe of the fibre is erected for the peace-making +ceremony. (See Plate XIX.) + +Two plants that were not identified are used in the North Andaman for +making baskets. The methods of preparing these will be described later. + +The natives of the Great Andaman Division make use of the leaves of the +Pandanus Andamanensium for making belts for women and ornaments that +are worn on ceremonial occasions. These leaves do not seem to be used +in the Little Andaman. + +The pods of one or more species of Dendrobium are collected by the +natives of both Great Andaman and Little Andaman. They are roasted in +the fire, until the outer skin turns a bright yellow, and this is torn +off in strips and used for ornamenting nets, baskets, rope, etc. + +The above description includes all the more important vegetable +substances used by the Andamanese for their rope, string, netting, and +basket-work. There are many other substances that they might use if +they wished, of the properties of which they are fully aware. Their +knowledge of the trees and plants of the forests and of the peculiar +properties of each is very extensive. They themselves say that they use +only those that best serve their purposes. + +The Andamanese make rope and string or thread, but in all cases it is +only two-ply. Rope is made by men only, and is used for the lines of +turtle harpoons, and was formerly used for turtle nets. The ropes made +from Hibiscus fibre are very strong and durable, being quite as good as +the best hempen ropes of the same diameter. In rope-making the Hibiscus +or other fibre (Sterculia or Grewia) is taken and twisted into a long +strand, either with the fingers, or on the thigh by rolling beneath the +palm of the hand, short lengths of fibre being added until a single +twisted strand of sufficient length and uniform thickness is produced. +The middle of this strand is passed over a piece of wood held by the +toes, one half of it being wound on to a reel (kutobi in Aka-Jeru) made +by tying together crossways two pieces of cane or wood each about 20 +cm. long and 6 mm. in diameter. The other half of the strand is loose, +and is held (near the point where it is tied to the wood held in the +toes) between the finger and thumb of the left hand, the rest of it +passing across the palm, over the left forearm, under the armpit, +across the back and over the right shoulder, hanging down loosely to +the worker’s right side. This arrangement is in order that the loose +strand shall not become entangled or get in the man’s way as he works. +The reel is held in the right hand and is passed first under the left +hand, then back again over it, the two strands being thus twisted into +a firm two-ply cord. + +The natives of the Little Andaman make rope in much the same way, but +they pass the reel from right to left over the other strand and back +under it, the twist being thus in the opposite direction from that used +in the Great Andaman. + +String or thread is made by both men and women. It is put to many uses, +the chief being for binding the heads of arrows, harpoons and spears +and the ends of bows, and in making nets, baskets, mats and personal +ornaments. In making string the man or woman sits down with legs +outstretched. Thin strands of fibre, varying in thickness according to +the thickness of the string required, are taken and each twisted singly +by being rolled between the palm of the right hand and the right thigh, +the motion being away from the body. When a sufficient number of short +single strands has been thus made, two of them are taken and placed +together on the thigh, being held at one end in the left hand. The two +strands are rolled together beneath the palm of the right hand, the +motion being inwards towards the body. A well twisted thread is thus +produced. When some 10 cm. or so have been thus twisted, the thread is +rolled once beneath the palm of the hand in the opposite direction, +i.e. away from the body, this action rendering it more compact. As soon +as the end of the two strands that are being twisted is neared, two +more are taken and joined on, first one and then the other, by being +rolled in with the first two. Fresh strands are thus continually added +as the string grows in length. String of any desired length is made in +this way, of considerable strength and of surprisingly uniform +thickness. + +String is made in this way from the fibre of Anadendron, Gnetum and +Hibiscus scandens in the Great Andaman Division, and from Gnetum and +ulu fibre in the Little Andaman. In the Great Andaman string made from +Anadendron fibre is rendered more durable by being waxed with black +bee’s-wax, but this treatment is not considered necessary for string +made from Gnetum fibre or from Hibiscus scandens. + +Ornamental rope is made for men’s belts in the Great Andaman. Hibiscus +fibre is twisted into a single strand. Around this strand strips of +Dendrobium skin are wound spirally so that it is entirely covered, and +the strand itself is twisted into a two-ply cord. + +Two other forms of cord have been already mentioned, namely the +bow-string, of twisted fibre of the Ficus laccifera in the Little +Andaman, and of wrapped fibre of the Anadendron in the Great Andaman +Division, and the special cord used in the Great Andaman for attaching +the head of a pig-arrow to the shaft. The Andamanese make very little +use of plaited cord. I have only met with it in personal ornaments made +of Pandanus leaf in the Great Andaman. + +The mat-work of the Andamanese is very simple. The natives of the +Little Andaman make bamboo mats on which they sleep. Strips of bamboo +of about 120 cm. in length and ·75 cm. in width are attached by means +of thin strips of cane to other strips of bamboo at right angles to the +first series. The technique is illustrated in Fig. 29 which shows the +back and the front of a portion of such a mat. It is that usually known +as wrapped-twined work. + +A similar technique is used in both the Little Andaman and the Great +Andaman in making thatching of cane-leaves. There is a difference, +however, the wrapping used in making thatch being that shown +diagrammatically in Fig. 30. + +The natives of the Great Andaman make sleeping mats from the outer +sheath of the leaf-stem of the Calamus tigrinus. Lengths of the +material are prepared and cleaned and are cut to a uniform length, +generally about 60 to 80 cm., having a breadth of 3 to 5 mm. A length +of thread, generally of the less valuable Gnetum fibre, but +occasionally of Anadendron fibre, is made and is wound on to two +netting needles, one half on each. With this thread the strips of +cane-leaf are fastened together. The technique is different in the +North Andaman and in the South Andaman. + +In the North the technique, which is represented diagrammatically in +Fig. 31, A is that known as wrapped-twined work. One of the two threads +of which the work is composed is held taut, the needle on which it is +wound being held in the toes, and the other thread is wrapped spirally +round it, one of the strips of cane-leaf sheath being enclosed at every +turn. Thus the method is exactly the same as that adopted in making +mats of thatch. + +In the South the technique is that known as twined work or fitching. +The two wefts (i.e. the threads) are twisted together in the same +direction one under the other, enclosing at each half turn one of the +strips of leaf-sheath. This is shown diagrammatically in Fig. 31, B. + +The mat is made by parallel lines of such twining or wrapped-twining. +At each side of the mat the line of threading is quite close to the +ends of the strips of which the mat is made. In the South Andaman the +work on each side of the mat is different from that in the middle. Each +of the two threads is alternately given a complete turn round one of +the strips of material. + +Mats may be of any length, and examples vary from 1 metre to 10 metres. +When in use about a metre and a half is unrolled and the remainder +serves as a pillow. If the mat be short a split log does service as a +pillow instead, but the full-length mat is certainly a more comfortable +bed. When a mat begins to wear or fall to pieces in some part it is not +thrown away, but this part is kept rolled up, and an unbroken part of +the mat is unrolled to sleep on, the remainder being kept rolled up +either at the head, where it forms a pillow, or at the foot. An old mat +may be continually increased in length by additions made to it. The +work of making these mats is performed by women only. + +The Jarawa and the natives of the Little Andaman make mats of a +somewhat similar pattern, but I have not been able to secure one so as +to see how it is made. + +To explain the different forms of the Andamanese baskets, it is most +convenient to begin by considering the way in which the natives of the +North Andaman tie up their pots. The small cooking-pots of the North +Andaman are fragile things and are not easily made, and it is therefore +necessary to take care of them. A leaf of the Licuala palm is taken. +The leaflets are plaited over one another, close to the point of their +insertion in the petiole, so as to form a sort of rosette with leaflets +radiating from it in every direction (Fig. 32 a). This is laid on the +ground, the pot is placed on it upside down, and the leaflets are +brought up all round the pot so as to meet at the point, and are there +roughly fastened. Three strips of cane are then taken and are tied +together crossways in the middle so as to form a sort of six-rayed star +with six approximately equal angles. This is laid on the ground with +the outer surface of the canes downwards, the pot is placed on it +upside down, and the strips of cane are bent upwards over the pot so as +to meet at the point. The ends of two opposite strips of cane are left +projecting for a few centimetres above the point, and the ends of the +other four are fastened firmly down. Another strip of cane is now +fastened round the middle of the pot, being applied to the six canes +previously mentioned by wrapping, i.e. a turn is taken with it round +each of the six strips in turn. The pot is now safely tied up and can +be hung in the hut or carried on a journey without much fear of its +coming to grief. To use the pot it is of course necessary to untie it. +A pot wrapped up in this way is shown in Fig. 32 a and b. + +In the South Andaman the pots have rounded bottoms. They are not tied +up in the same way as in the North Andaman, but for purposes of safety +and carriage each pot is provided with a rude basket. The basket is +made so as to fit the pot. Six strips of cane are taken and tied +together in the middle, as previously described. A stout strip of cane +is then taken and is bent round into a circle so as to be just a little +larger than the outside rim of the pot. This, which is to form the rim +of the basket, is placed in position and the six strips of cane before +mentioned are bent round and attached to it. The manner of attaching +the uprights of the basket to the rim is shown in Fig. 33. The strip of +cane forming the upright is thinned down beyond the point where it +reaches the rim. It is given one turn round the rim, ascending on the +outside and descending inside, then a half turn round the standing part +of itself, immediately below the rim from left to right, then another +complete turn round the rim ascending inside and descending outside, a +half turn behind its own standing part below the rim, a third complete +turn round the rim, and the end is fastened with an overhand knot. + +A thinner strip of cane is now taken and wound round the six uprights +(the warp of the basket) being given a turn round one after another. +The technique is that known as wrapped work. If the strip be not long +enough another is joined to it with a reef or sailor’s knot. The weft +(as this thinner strip may be called) is given five or six spiral +turns, and thus leaves a very open and rather weak basket. The basket +is then further strengthened by other strips of cane attached by one +end to the rim and carried downwards, with one turn round each of the +horizontal canes (weft) and the other end attached to the centre of the +bottom of the basket. A strip of cane or bark is attached to the rim by +its two ends to provide a strap by which the basket with its pot may be +carried on the back. Before the pot is placed in it the basket is lined +with the leaflets of the Licuala palm. + +We may now turn to the baskets of the Little Andaman, of which there +are two varieties, one made with more care than the other. As regards +shape both varieties are the same, and the shape is exactly that of the +Little Andaman pots. + +The following is a description of a small but typical specimen of the +better variety of Little Andaman basket. The foundation consists of +twelve whole canes. A little under 80 cm. of the cane is left whole, +and at each end it is thinned down to a strip. The twelve canes are +taken in four bundles of three each and placed so as to cross each +other in the middle. They are bent into a somewhat conical shape, and +the ends (where the cane is thinned) are attached to a rim composed of +a whole cane bent into a circle and tied. The method by which each of +the uprights or stakes is attached to the rim is shown in Fig. 34. It +is almost identical with that used in the South Andaman pot basket. The +weaving is then begun near the bottom of the basket. A thin strip of +the outside of a cane is taken, and is applied to the uprights (warp or +stakes) by wrapped work, i.e. it is given a complete turn round each of +them in turn. This wrapped weaving is continued spirally from near the +bottom of the basket to near the rim. Near the top of the basket, +between 4 and 5 cm. from the rim, the weaving is so arranged that for +about three-quarters of the way round the basket there is a gap of +about 1·5 cm. between two rows of weft (see Fig. 34). The purpose of +this will be mentioned later. The basket now consists of a rim to which +are attached twelve uprights forming the warp of the basket, around +which a fine strip of cane has been spirally wrapped from the bottom to +the top. Twelve fine strips of the outside of a cane are now taken. One +end of each is fastened to the rim in between two of the stakes, the +mode of fastening being shown in Fig. 34. The strip is then carried +down the basket, on the outside, as far as the bottom row of weaving, +round which it is doubled, and is then wound spirally, from the bottom +to the top of the basket, around its own standing part, including at +each spiral turn one of the wefts. Thus each of these twelve strips of +cane is attached to the outside of the basket by the process known as +wrapped-twined work. The basket is furnished with a handle of bark +fibre which is attached by its two ends to the rim on that side where +there is no gap between the rows of weft near the top. + +In the less carefully made baskets of the Little Andaman there are a +few important differences. The stakes of the basket are not thin whole +canes, but are strips of larger canes. The weft is applied in wrapped +work, as in the basket already described, but the rows of weft are not +so close together and are therefore not so numerous. After the first +process, when the basket consists of stakes and horizontal (spiral) +weft only, vertical strengthening strips are added, but these are +applied, not in wrapped-twined work as in the basket described, but in +wrapped work, in exactly the same way as in the South Andaman +pot-basket. Thus, apart from its shape, which is that of the Little +Andaman pot, the Little Andaman basket of this kind is very similar to +the South Andaman pot-basket. + +The natives of the Little Andaman make pots that are much larger and +deeper than those of the South Andaman, and have a more rounded bottom +than those of the North Andaman. For every pot a basket is made that +exactly fits it, and in this basket it is stored and carried. Every +basket that is made in the Little Andaman, whether it be used for +carrying a pot or for any other purpose, is made of exactly the same +shape. + +The purpose of the gap that is left near the top of the basket as +described above is in order that strips of string or fibre may be tied +across the mouth of the basket, from side to side, in order to keep its +contents safe. + +We may now return to the Great Andaman and consider the baskets of the +South Andaman Group of tribes. These are made from the best canes. From +80 to 120 fine strips of cane are taken which are to form the stakes or +uprights. A slight hollow is made in the ground, and the strips of cane +are placed crossways across one another in this hollow, the inner +surfaces of the canes being downwards. As the strips are being +arranged, and when the weaving is begun, the centre, i.e., the point +where the strips cross one another in the middle of the hollow, is +pressed firmly beneath the heel so as to maintain them in position. The +first few strips are sometimes tied together in the middle, but this is +not always done. When all the strips are arranged evenly the weaving of +the basket is begun with a length of thread, which is slewed in and out +between the strips of cane, beginning as near the centre as possible, +the stroke being that of ordinary wicker-work. After four or five +spiral turns have been taken with the thread it is fastened. The bottom +of the basket is then reversed, the stakes being bent over, and the +weaving proper is begun with a fine strip of cane. This is applied by +wicker-work nearly as far as the top of the basket. At the top, the +weaving is finished off with three or four spiral turns of +wrapped-twined work in cane (see Fig. 35). The rim of the basket is +formed of a thin piece of wood (circular in section) bent round into a +circle of the right size and the two ends tied together. The stakes or +uprights are attached to this rim (after the weaving is finished) but a +space of about 5 cm. is left between the top of the weaving and the +rim. The mode of attaching the uprights to the rim is shown in Fig. 35. + +The South Andaman basket is really a conical basket with the bottom +reversed or dented inwards to form a “kick” like the kick of a bottle. +If it were not for the kick it would be the same shape as the Little +Andaman basket. The kick enables it to stand upright, although it is +inclined to be top-heavy, but renders it unfit for carrying pots. + +The space between the top of the weaving and the rim is to admit of +strings being tied across the mouth of the basket to keep its contents +safe. + +A handle of Hibiscus fibre is attached to the rim and rests across the +front of the chest when the basket is carried on the back. + +South Andaman baskets are sometimes ornamented, in the process of +making, with strips of Dendrobium skin, applied horizontally by +overlaid interlacing. The strip of Dendrobium skin is laid over the +weft and woven in with it for one turn round the basket. I have never +seen ornamentation with Dendrobium skin applied to the South Andaman +baskets by any method save this one. + +Patterns of red paint and white clay are occasionally painted on +baskets when they are newly made. Shells are sometimes attached to +different parts of the basket by thread, for the purpose of ornament. + +In the North Andaman, baskets are made that differ in several important +features from those of the South Andaman. They are not made of cane but +of two different materials. One of these is the stem of a creeper +called čup-to̱i. Lengths of the creeper are cut and dried and then split +lengthways into two or three pieces according to their size. The outer +bark or skin is then scraped off with a Cyrena shell. These strips are +to form the stakes or warp of the basket. The other material is another +creeper called bobi. The long tough tendrils of this plant are taken +and the soft outer sheath removed by drawing the tendril through a +piece of split cane or bamboo bent double so that the tendril is +scraped between the two inner surfaces. The fibre that remains is split +longitudinally into two pieces and dried. + +A bundle of strips of the čup-to̱i is taken, sufficient in length and +number for the required size of basket. The bundle is divided into two +equal bundles and these are tied together in the middle crossways with +thread. This cross forms the beginning of the basket. The weaving is +begun with thread, which is slewed in and out between the warp, from 4 +to 7 spiral turns being made. During this process the centre of the +basket, i.e., the cross, is pressed beneath the heel into a slight +hollow made in the ground, to give it a curve which, in the finished +basket, will form the “kick.” The thread is tied, the bottom is turned +upside down, the stakes are bent back and the weaving is continued, not +with thread but with strips of bobi, till a short distance from the top +of the basket, and then three or four rows of wrapped-twined work are +made, the strip of bobi being coiled round the basket and attached to +the uprights with thread. A rim is made of a strip of cane bent into a +circle. This is placed inside the uprights and tied to them in two or +three places. The remaining portion of each of the uprights, projecting +above the rim, is bent down outside and slightly obliquely, and tied +down by a thread passing over each in turn and round the rim. A very +rough and untidy rim is thus produced, and this is again served or +bound over with thread. A handle of Hibiscus fibre is added. + +In the North Andaman baskets, as in those of the South Andaman, a space +of a few centimetres is left between the top of the weaving and the +rim, there being for that space only warp or uprights and no weft. This +allows string to be tied in any direction across the mouth of the +basket, so as to keep its contents safe. + +The shape of the North Andaman baskets is different from that of the +southern baskets, the former having a sort of belly at the bottom and +narrowing somewhat above. The result is that the northern baskets will +stand more firmly, being less top-heavy when either full or empty than +those of the south. + +In the North Andaman baskets are ornamented as they are made with +worked-in strips of Dendrobium fibre. There are several different +methods of working this ornamentation, resulting in different patterns. +Baskets are also ornamented, when new, with painted patterns in white +and red, though this is not general, and occasionally shells are +attached to them by thread. + +One more form of basket-work remains to be briefly mentioned. The +natives of all parts of the islands were formerly in the habit of +preserving as trophies the skulls of pigs and turtle that were killed +in the chase. The natives of the Great Andaman Division do not now +trouble to preserve all the skulls of the pigs they kill, and they give +as their reason for this that now that they have dogs the hunting of +pigs is not a sport that requires any great skill. The Jarawa however +still keep up the old custom, and they go so far as carefully to encase +every skull in basket-work. As may be seen from Fig. 36 the basket-work +in question is of simple wrapped work, the material being strips of +cane. + +It is of some interest to consider the different forms of technique +used by the Andamanese in dealing with flexible materials. Rope and +string are only made two-ply. It would seem that the Andamanese have +not discovered that three-ply cord is stronger for a given diameter +than two-ply. They have, in the bow-string of the Great Andaman, an +interesting form of cord that may perhaps best be described as wrapped +cord. The making of a rope involves the twisting of two strands of +material around one another. The making of a wrapped cord involves the +spiral wrapping of one strand of material round another. This is +exactly the same process as “serving,” and it is one that is used by +the Andamanese in all sorts of ways. In serving their arrows with +thread and in serving the ends of bows and the heads of harpoons the +Andamanese have several different methods of making fast the ends, and +I regret that I did not take more detailed notes on this subject. Their +skill in handling this technique is shown in the strength of the +binding on their arrows. + +This spiral wrapping of one strand round a flexible or rigid object +lies at the base of much else in their technique. We have seen that +they make considerable use of wrapped-twined work. In this work a strip +of material crosses at right angles a number of strips of the same or +other material, and a weft is wound round the former, taking in one of +the latter at each turn. There are two methods of doing this, either by +simple spiral wrapping, as in the mats of thatch, or by what may be +called “right and left” or “zig-zag” wrapping, as in the bamboo mat of +the Little Andaman. A difference is also made according as the strip of +material around which the weft is wrapped is rigid, as in the Little +Andaman bamboo mat or in thatching, or flexible, as in the North +Andaman mat, where it is one thread while the weft is another thread. + +Wrapped work, in which a strip of weft is wound successively round one +after another of a number of rigid stakes, is another very simple +process that is employed in a number of different ways by the +Andamanese. The most important development of wrapped work amongst them +is seen in the pot-basket of the South Andaman, in the baskets of the +Jarawa and Little Andaman and in the pig’s-skull basket-work of the +Jarawa. + +Simple twined work is rare in the Andamans. There is hardly any example +of it except in the mats of the South Andaman. It would seem probable +that the North Andaman mat technique of wrapped-twined work is the +earlier, being more in agreement with what we may call the technical +habits of the Andamanese, and that the South Andaman mat technique is a +later elaboration. In this connection it may be remembered that +plaiting, in which also several wefts are twisted one over another, is +rarely used in the Andamans. + +The process of nippering, by which the natives of the Great Andaman +make the cord of their pig-arrows, and the somewhat similar process +used in the Little Andaman in making personal ornaments, are quite in +accordance with the general trend of the technique, but when such a +process is applied to a number of parallel strips of material instead +of to two only it constitutes a step towards wicker-work. It is +notable, however, that it is only in the Great Andaman that wicker-work +is used, and this suggests that it has only been invented or adopted +since the separation of the two divisions of the Andamanese. + +It is very tempting to regard the different forms of basket, in the +order in which they are described above, as so many stages of a process +of evolution. It is, at any rate, worth while to state the argument, +and to show what the differences between them exactly are. In the North +Andaman pot-covering we have (1) the technique simple wrapped work, and +(2) the basis six strips of cane tied together in the middle. In the +South Andaman pot-basket we have both these features, but the +difference in the shape of the pots allows them to be carried in a true +basket and we have therefore (3) a rim, with (4) a peculiar method of +attaching the uprights to the rim, (5) a number of horizontal (wrapped) +wefts instead of one or two, and (6) strengthening strips applied to +the horizontal wefts in wrapped work. In the rougher kind of basket +made in the Little Andaman we have nearly all the features of the South +Andaman pot-basket. The only differences, apart from the shape of the +basket, which in each case follows the shape of the pot, are (2) more +than six uprights may be used, and (5) the number of horizontal wefts, +i.e. the number of spiral turns taken round the basket, is as a rule +greater. In the more carefully made Little Andaman basket there are +several differences. The uprights are fine whole canes instead of +strips of split cane. It is undoubtedly more difficult to procure whole +canes of the proper size than simply to split up larger canes, but +where the technique is wrapped work the circular section of the +uprights improves the quality of the resulting basket, as a strip of +cane is more easily wound round a whole cane than round a split cane, +and there is less chance of it breaking when a strain is put upon it. +Another difference is that in the better Little Andaman baskets the +rows of weft are as close together as the peculiar technique will +allow. This makes a finer and stronger basket, and is an obvious +improvement. The third difference is that in these baskets the +strengthening strips are applied not in wrapped work, but in +wrapped-twined work, which, however, we have seen is a common technique +in the Andamans. In the better baskets of the Little Andaman we find a +special feature of some interest in the gap that is left in the weaving +near the rim, to allow of strings being tied across the mouth. + +When we look at the South Andaman basket the first thing that strikes +us is that it is really a conical basket of much the same shape as the +Little Andaman basket, but with the bottom dented in to make a kick, so +allowing the basket to stand on its bottom. This denting is only +rendered possible, however, by the fact that the uprights of the South +Andaman basket are thin strips of cane that can be easily bent, and +this again depends on the use of wicker-work in the basket instead of +wrapped work. It must be remembered that the top of the weaving is +finished off with three rows of wrapped-twined work, and this suggests +that there may possibly have been a stage of development between the +Little Andaman basket and the South Andaman form, in which the uprights +were thin strips of cane, and the weft was applied in wrapped-twined +work from top to bottom. This, however, is only a surmise. It does +certainly seem probable that the South Andaman basket is derived +immediately from a form of basket similar to that of the Little +Andaman, the great difference being the change to wicker-work +technique. The method of attaching the uprights to the rim was +doubtless introduced owing to the fact that the original method is +unsatisfactory when the uprights are thin and easily broken strips, +instead of stout ones. + +The North Andaman basket seems to have been derived from one similar to +that of the South Andaman by the introduction of two changes, (1) the +use of different materials, and (2) the change of shape. The materials +used in the north are such as to give a basket on the whole stronger +and more durable than that of the south. If a heavy weight be carried +in a southern basket the pressure of the basket on the back tends to +crack the canes of which it is composed. In the case of a northern +basket it may lose its shape, but the materials of which it is composed +will give or bend without cracking so readily. The shape of the +northern basket is certainly an improvement, as it avoids the +top-heaviness of the southern shape. Both the northern and the southern +baskets have a gap between the top of the weaving and the rim, like the +basket of the Little Andaman. + +Thus every step, or nearly every step, in a hypothetical process of +evolution is exhibited in the different forms of basket-work. First we +have the pot-covering of the North Andaman, then the pot-basket of the +South Andaman, then the rougher kind of Little Andaman basket, of the +same shape as the pot, then the South Andaman basket of cane with a +kick and finally the basket of the North Andaman. The better kind of +Little Andaman basket is simply an independent improvement of the +other, involving no new technique. + +However much or little probability we may attach to this hypothetical +reconstruction of the history of basket-work in the Andamans, one thing +does seem fairly certain, and that is that the original ancestors of +the Andamanese were not acquainted with wicker-work, or had no use for +it. In the Little Andaman Division only wrapped work and wrapped-twined +work are used, and the wicker-work of the Great Andaman Division has +almost certainly been adopted since the two divisions were separated. +The consideration of the general technical bias of the Andamanese in +their dealings with flexible materials supports the view that in their +case wicker-work is later than wrapped work and wrapped-twined work. It +seems more than likely that the Andamanese of the larger island have +invented wicker-work in its simplest form on the basis of a previous +technique of wrapped and wrapped-twined work. To us wicker-work seems +such a simple process as almost to need no inventing. It must be +recognized however that the general bias of the Andamanese is against +using materials in this way. The Andaman Islander shows a decided +preference for those processes in which he uses a single flexible +material which he winds or wraps round other rigid or flexible +material, as in nippering, or wrapped work or wrapped-twined work. + +It is impossible to obtain confirmation of this view, however, from a +comparison of the Andamanese with the Semang and the Philippine +Negritos. The Semang make mat-work bags and wallets of check, and they +make (or use) baskets of hexagonal work. Both check and hexagonal work +are used by other races in the Malay Peninsula and in Malaysia +generally. The present mats and baskets of the Semang cannot therefore +be regarded as original Negrito productions. They have almost certainly +been adopted through contact with other cultures. + +The same thing would seem to apply to the present basket-work of the +Philippine Negritos, of which however we know very little. + +Netted bags of string are made by the women of both the Great Andaman +and the Little Andaman Divisions, and are used for carrying or storing +small objects such as shells, fruit, roots, etc. The string used for +these is made from the fibre of the Gnetum edule in the Little Andaman, +and is generally made from the same fibre in the Great Andaman, but in +the latter division the fibre of Hibiscus scandens is prized for this +purpose and is used instead of that of the Gnetum when it is available. +Small hand fishing nets are made by the women in both divisions from +thread of Gnetum fibre. In the Great Andaman Division netting is also +used for personal ornaments, the thread used for this purpose being +generally made from Anadendron fibre. + +The mode of netting is always the same. Netting needles are used, made +from slips of bamboo or cane, and varying in size according to the work +for which they are intended. The netting string or thread is wound on +to this needle. For the foundation of the net a short length of string +is taken and the two ends tied together, the loop thus formed being +placed over the big toe as the woman sits on the ground. + +The knot used in netting is that known as the fisherman’s knot, in use +all over the world. The needle is held in the right hand, is passed +from above downwards through the loop marked a in the figure, and is +drawn through far enough to leave a new loop b of the required size. +This loop is held between the thumb and forefinger of the left hand, +the uniformity in mesh being apparently obtained largely by the sense +of touch. The needle is then passed through the new loop b again from +above and is drawn out leaving a loop c, through which the needle is +passed once more, forming the finished knot, which is then drawn taut. + +When netting is made for personal apparel it is generally ornamented +with strips of Dendrobium skin worked in with the thread in the course +of the netting. Netting for personal ornaments consists of a sort of +bag open at both ends. Each end is tied with a string passed through +the ultimate loops, and this string serves to tie the band of net round +the waist or neck or wrist or knee. + +Fishing nets are attached to a handle. The handles of the Little +Andaman Division and those of the Great Andaman Division are different +in shape. The Great Andaman net with its hoop can be folded up +compactly for carriage, while that of the Little Andaman cannot. + +The nets of rope formerly used in the Great Andaman for catching turtle +have been already described. + + + +DOMESTIC IMPLEMENTS AND UTENSILS. + +The Andamanese are perhaps the only people in the world who have no +method of their own of making fire. At the present time they obtain +matches from the Settlement of Port Blair, and a few of them have +learnt, either from Burmese or from Nicobarese, a method of making fire +by the friction of pieces of split bamboo. Formerly, however, they had +no knowledge of any method by which fire could be produced. Fires were +and still are carefully kept alive in the village, and are carefully +carried when travelling. Every hunting party carries its fire with it. +The natives are very skilful in selecting wood that will smoulder for a +long time without going out and without breaking into flame. + +The most interesting of the Andamanese domestic utensils is undoubtedly +the cooking-pot. Pots are made in all parts of the Andamans where +suitable clay is to be found. The clay is obtained and is freed as far +as possible from stones and gritty matter with the hands. It is then +moistened with water and kneaded on a board consisting of a portion of +a broken canoe. It is worked very stiff and after kneading is rolled +beneath the palm of the hand into long thin rolls. These are built up +into a pot by coiling, the requisite degree of thickness being obtained +by pressure of the thumb and first finger. When the pot has been built +up to the required size and shape, the surface, inside and out, is +moistened and is scraped over in all directions with an Arca shell. The +pot is dried in the sun for a few hours and is then baked by placing +inside and around it pieces of burning wood. The pot often cracks in +the baking, and another has to be made. + +In the North Andaman the pots are made with pointed bottoms, and are +generally small, the largest having a capacity of only six or seven +pints. They are made by women only. In the South Andaman the pots have +rounded bottoms and, on the average, are larger and thicker than those +of the North Andaman. They are made by both men and women, the best +being made by men. In the Little Andaman the pots are larger, and, +particularly, deeper than those of the South Andaman, and have somewhat +pointed bottoms. The pots of the Jarawa are similar to those of the +Little Andaman. + +In the North Andaman pots are not ornamented, but in the South Andaman +they are decorated with usually simple patterns of dots and lines made +with a small pointed stick. The Little Andaman pots that I have seen +were not decorated. + +The pots are used for cooking, i.e. for boiling meat and vegetables. In +the North Andaman small pots are specially made for melting the +composition used for covering the binding on the heads of arrows. + +Neither the Semang nor the Philippine Negritos make any kind of +pottery. The origin of Andamanese pottery therefore is a problem of +some interest. It is almost certain that the early Andamanese were +acquainted with pottery before they were divided into the Great Andaman +and Little Andaman Divisions. One of the very few words which is the +same in all Andamanese languages is the word for pot, buču in the +Little Andaman, buǰ in Aka-Bea and peč in Aka-Jeru. The most reasonable +hypothesis would therefore seem to be that the Andamanese learnt the +method of making pottery by coiling before they reached the Andaman +Islands but after they had become separated from that part of the +Negrito race from which the Semang and the Philippine Negritos are +descended. Of course it is possible that the art of pottery may have +been an original possession of the Negritos and that the Semang and +Philippine Negritos may have lost it. A people could easily lose the +art if they were compelled in the course of their migrations to spend +three or four generations in a region that lacked clay suitable for the +purpose. + +The Andamanese make buckets of wood, which they use for carrying and +holding a supply of water. A solid piece is cut from the trunk of a +soft-wooded tree and is hollowed out with a chisel made by attaching +the blade of an adze to a stick. The natural form of the wood is +retained, only the bark being removed from the outside while the inside +is chiselled out to leave sides of about a centimetre thick and a +bottom of somewhat greater thickness. In order to render the bottom of +the bucket water-tight the natives of the Little Andaman pour over it +on the inside melted bees’-wax. The natives of the Great Andaman use +for this purpose the same composition with which they cover the +bindings of their arrows, which certainly is superior to bees’-wax. + +A bucket of the shape used in the Great Andaman is shown in Plate VII, +on the left. A strip of cane is attached round the middle of the +bucket, and to this in turn is attached another strip of cane which, +being passed across the front of the chest, enables the bucket to be +carried on the back. + +The buckets of the Little Andaman are cut with thinner sides than those +of the Great Andaman. A strip of cane is fastened round the bucket near +the top. From this two other strips of cane are attached by both ends, +passing under the bottom, and a third strip is attached which passes +over the head and supports the bucket when it is carried on the back. +In the Little Andaman the outside of the bucket is charred with fire. + +Occasionally pieces of the giant bamboo, which does not grow in the +Andamans, are found on the shore, having drifted from the Burma coast. +When a sound piece is found it is made into buckets each formed of a +single joint. + +Water vessels are made from bamboos that do grow in the islands. A +length of bamboo of good diameter is cut, containing three joints. The +partition of the lowest node is preserved to serve as a bottom, and the +other partitions are broken through with an arrow. This is the usual +vessel used for carrying water on a journey by land or in a canoe, and +for keeping a supply of drinking water in the hut. + +A single joint of the same kind of bamboo is used as a cooking vessel. +It is cleaned, washed, and dried, and is then filled with meat tightly +packed. The top is closed with leaves and the bamboo is placed on the +fire until the meat is cooked. Meat is not cooked in this way for +immediate consumption. It will keep for twenty-four hours or even +longer if not opened. To obtain the contents the bamboo is split open +with an adze. + +Trays used for food are cut from soft wood of a species of Sterculia +with an adze. They are shallow and somewhat long and narrow, with +pointed ends. + +A large Pinna shell is occasionally used as a tray or dish for holding +food, or for mixing clay with water for painting. A Nautilus shell +forms a fairly convenient cup or drinking vessel and is frequently used +for that purpose, as well as for baling out water from a canoe. + +Bamboo tongs are made by bending double a piece split from a bamboo, +and cutting the ends to the required shape. They are used for lifting +from the fire anything too hot to be taken in the hand and are chiefly +of service in cooking. + +Digging sticks are made from various kinds of wood, being simply +pointed at one or both ends. These sticks are not as a rule preserved, +but made as required with an adze and thrown away after use. They are +used for digging up edible roots. + +Hooks for picking fruit, such as the Artocarpus, are made by attaching +a small piece of wood to the end of a bamboo. Hooks for catching crabs +are made from the wood of the Rhizophora by taking advantage of the +natural form where a small branch joins a larger one. + +The fan-shaped leaf of a Licuala palm is made use of in many ways. The +edges of the leaflets are sewn together with fine strips of cane, and +the sewn leaf is then used either as a sunshade or umbrella for +protection from sunshine or rain, as a sleeping mat if the proper +article be lacking, as a screen to make the roof or sides of a hut more +wind or rain proof, as a wrapper for making objects of all sorts into +bundles, and as a winding sheet for a corpse. + +Torches are made from resin, which is broken into small pieces and +wrapped up in leaves of a species of Crinum (? lorifolium), a few +pieces of smouldering charcoal being added before it is tied up. The +torch is then parcelled by marling with a strip of cane or a length of +some tough creeper. These resin torches are used in turtle-hunting and +fishing expeditions on dark nights. + +Other torches are made of fragments of rotten Dipterocarpus wood. They +are used only in the village. + + + +PERSONAL ORNAMENT; GREAT ANDAMAN. + +At the present time the natives of the Great Andaman Division obtain +from the Settlement of Port Blair cloth which both men and women wear +round the loins. They also obtain beads from which they make necklaces. + +The following is a list of the various personal ornaments made by the +natives of the Great Andaman Division, and worn by them. + +Rope girdle. Every man wears some sort of girdle round his waist, and +this was formerly the only object that was constantly worn by men. The +girdle may consist of a length of rope of Hibiscus fibre or a length of +ornamental cord made by wrapping the yellow skin of the Dendrobium over +two strands of Hibiscus fibre and then twisting these into a two-ply +cord. + +Necklaces and garters of string. Both men and women are often to be +seen with a simple piece of string, usually of Anadendron fibre, tied +round the neck or around the leg just below the knee. + +Ornaments of Pandanus leaf. Every married woman always wears a belt of +Pandanus leaf which she is never without for even a moment. When the +belt she is wearing needs renewing she puts the new one on before +taking the other off. To make such a belt two leaves of the Pandanus +Andamanensium are taken and cut to a sufficient length (about 20 cm.). +The thorns at the edge of the leaf are removed by cutting off a strip +of about 3 mm. wide from the edge, leaving a strip of leaf about 4 cm. +broad. The two leaves are placed one on the other and are wound +spirally round in three turns so as to give a belt of six thicknesses +of leaf, the upper surface of the leaf being on the outside of the +belt. The leaves are secured together by tying with thread at the back +where the two ends just overlap. At the point where the leaves are tied +one or two bundles of strips of Pandanus leaf are attached with thread. +The bundle is made of a number of strips of leaf about 90 cm. long and +2·5 cm. broad which are chewed in the mouth to make them soft and then +placed together and served over with thread for about 12 cm. in the +middle. Belts of this kind are generally worn by married women, but +precisely similar belts are worn by men on certain ceremonial +occasions. They are called toto t’er-bua in Aka-Jeru. + +A very similar belt is made in exactly the same way save that the +tassel of leaves at the back consists of narrow strips of Pandanus leaf +instead of broad strips. This kind of belt is worn by women only. +Examples may be seen in Plate IV (the lower belt of the two) and in +Plate XVIII. It is called toto t’er-nyarab in Aka-Jeru. + +A belt is made in much the same way out of Pandanus leaves split in +half down the midrib, giving strips of about 2·5 cm. broad. Such belts +have only a scanty tassel of thin strips of leaf at the back. They are +worn by girls and women only. They are called kudu in Aka-Jeru. + +Yet another variety of belt is made of whole leaves in exactly the same +way as the toto t’er-bua but has no tassel at the back. An example may +be seen in Plate IV (the upper belt). It is worn by women. + +Girdles are made of strips of Pandanus leaf of about 1·25 cm. broad +without any tassel, but with strings of Dentalium shell attached at +various points. A girdle of this kind is shown in Plate XV. + +Girdles are also made by cutting a number of strips of leaf and +softening them by chewing them in the mouth. These strips are laid +together and either served over or marled with thread so as to make a +girdle of round section. A tassel of leaves similar to that of the toto +t’er-bua is attached to the back, and very frequently strings of +Dentalium shell are attached at various points. Such a girdle may be +worn by either men or women. It is called toto t’er-ŋau in Aka-Jeru. + +Yet another kind of girdle is made by splitting Pandanus leaves into +thin strips and making them into a kind of wrapped cord, one strip +being wrapped spirally round one or more others by the same technique +as that used in making bow-strings. A number of coils of strands made +in this way are tied together with thread at various points and a +tassel similar to that of the toto t’er-bua is added at the back. Such +girdles are usually improved by the addition of a few pendent strings +of Dentalium shell. They may be worn by either men or women. Their name +in Aka-Jeru is toto t’er-mo̱i. + +Ornaments of Pandanus leaf to be worn either round the leg just below +the knee or round the wrist are made in exactly the same way as the +belt called toto t’er-bua, each having a tassel of Pandanus leaf strips +attached. Such garters and bracelets are worn at a dance by men. + +Other ornaments for wearing round the wrist or knee when dancing are +made by the same method as the girdle called toto t’er-ŋau, each having +a tassel of strips of leaf. + +Similar dancing ornaments are made by plaiting strips of leaf into a +three-plait cord of the right length, a tassel of loose leaf strips +being left at each end. These are tied round the wrist or knee. + +Ornaments for the knee or wrist, such as those shown on the legs of the +man in Plate XII, are made by winding spirally a narrow strip of leaf +and sewing it. A number of pendent strings of Dentalium shell are +attached round it, and often strings are attached at the end of which +small shells hang suspended which rattle against one another as the +wearer walks or dances. + +Chaplets or headdresses worn by men when dancing, and occasionally by +women, are made of fairly broad strips of leaf in the same way as the +toto t’er-bua. Such a chaplet may have a tassel of narrow strips of +Pandanus leaf at the back to which are attached shells that rattle as +the wearer moves, or it may have pendent strings of Dentalium shells +round the hinder half of its circumference. + +In making ornaments of Pandanus leaf such as the toto t’er-bua the +upper surface of the strip of leaf is usually ornamented with a design +scratched on it with a pointed piece of wood. The design usually covers +not only the portion of leaf that is visible when the belt or other +object is finished, but also that portion which is not visible, being +underneath. Many ornaments of this kind are further decorated when +finished with the composition used for covering the bindings of arrows, +which is applied with a pointed stick in simple geometrical patterns. +The woman shown in Plate X is wearing two belts that have been +ornamented with composition in this way. + +Woman’s leaf apron. In the South Andaman the women wear a sort of small +apron consisting of a number of leaves of the Mimusops littoralis laid +one over the other, the stalk ends of the leaves being tucked in +between the layers of a belt of Pandanus leaf. The leaves thus hang +suspended so as to cover, somewhat inadequately, the pudenda. The +natives say that the leaves of the Mimusops are chosen because they +remain green longer than those of any other species. As soon as the +leaves fade and turn yellow they are renewed. The appearance of the +leaf apron may be seen in Plates IV and XV. + +The women of the North Andaman have within recent years adopted the +fashion of those of the South Andaman in this matter, but formerly they +made a similar use of a different kind of leaf from a plant called +čainyo in Aka-Jeru, and over the top of the leaves they wore a tassel +of the fibre called ko̱ro. + +Ornaments of netting and Dentalium shells. Bands of netting (in shape +of a cylinder or bag open at both ends) are made of suitable size to +tie round the waist, the neck, the leg below the knee or the wrist. +Such netting is generally ornamented as it is being made with strips of +Dendrobium skin worked in the net. Along the lower edge of the band of +netting are attached a number of threads each having Dentalium shells +strung on to it like beads. Ornaments of this kind are shown in Plates +V and IX. They are worn by both men and women, but usually only on the +occasion of a dance or some other ceremony. + +Ornaments of bone, etc. These are made with human bones, with the bones +of such animals as pig, turtle, dugong, Paradoxurus, monitor lizard, or +with pieces of wood or cane, or of coral, of suitable shape. A length +of cord, of the fibre of the Hibiscus tiliaceus or of the Ficus +laccifera, is taken, and the bones are attached to it by thread. As a +rule, strips of Dendrobium skin are worked in, being laid on the bone +and bound over with the thread. + +Ornaments of shell. Various kinds of shells are perforated and attached +to string and are worn round the neck, the head, the knee, or the +wrist. A necklace of fresh-water shells (ino ko̱lo to̱i in Aka-Jeru) is +shown in Plate IX. A necklace of small sea-shells is shown in Plate +XIII. The favourite shell of the Great Andaman tribes is the Dentalium +octogonum. The shells are collected from the shore by the women. The +closed end of each is bitten off with the teeth and the shells, which +thus form cylindrical beads, are strung on to a piece of thread. These +strings of shell are worn as necklaces, as shown in Plates IV and XII, +and are tied round the wrist and knee and ankle as shown in Plate IV. + +Ornaments of seed. The seed-tops of two or three species of mangrove +are collected and strung on to thread and worn round the neck. Fig. 40 +shows the two kinds of mangrove seed commonly used in this way. + +Bamboo necklaces. A necklace is sometimes made of a number of short +pieces of bamboo arrow-shaft threaded on to a string. The pieces of +bamboo are ornamented with simple designs scratched or cut on them with +a shell. + +Sling of bark. Another object that may perhaps be mentioned amongst +objects of personal ornament is the sling used in carrying children. It +is made of a broad strip of the bark of the Hibiscus tiliaceus. Some +slings are covered entirely with netting, while others are ornamented +with shells in various ways. Plate XIV shows one with strings of +Dentalium shell sewn on to it. + +Dancing ornaments of Tetranthera wood. A piece of Tetranthera wood, +usually part of the shaft of an old pig-arrow, about 30 to 35 cm. long, +is taken and made into shavings with a Cyrena shell. The wood is shaved +carefully round and round, so as to make a continuous sheet of fibre, +as though unwinding a roll of material. A bundle of these shavings is +tied at one end and covered with red paint, and forms an object that is +carried in the hand or worn in the belt at dances. + + + +PERSONAL ORNAMENT; LITTLE ANDAMAN. + +The personal ornaments of the Little Andaman and of the Jarawa are +different from those of the Great Andaman Division, and therefore need +to be described separately. + +Ornaments of bark. Strips of bark (? Celtis cinnamonea) are worn by the +men round the waist and round the arm. + +Ornamental cord. These are the ornaments most frequently met with both +in the Little Andaman and amongst the Jarawa. The basis is a strip of +cane, varying in breadth in different examples. On one side of this are +laid strips of the yellow skin of the Dendrobium, varying in number +according to the breadth of the cane, and the whole is served over or +bound with thread. The technique in shown in Fig. 41, which represents +diagrammatically the method adopted when there are two strips of +Dendrobium skin. Such ornamental cord is made in pieces of considerable +length. Often tassels of thread (of Ficus hispida fibre) are attached +to it at intervals. The cord is worn wound round the waist, the neck, +or the arm. Both men and women wear it. + +Woman’s girdle. In the Little Andaman this is made of a number of fine +strips of cane tied together with thread. At the front is attached a +tassel of fibre made from young unopened palm-leaves (the fibre called +ko̱ro in Aka-Jeru). + +Woman’s shoulder strap. The women of the Little Andaman wear a strip of +bark over the shoulders, crossing over the chest and passing beneath +the breasts. + +The above brief description of the ornaments of the Andamanese is +perhaps sufficient for the purpose of this appendix, which is to +determine as far as possible the elements of a primitive Negrito +culture. Any complete account of the subject would need a large number +of figures and a discussion of many comparatively unimportant details. +The first point of importance to be noted is that the personal +ornaments of the Little Andaman Division differ markedly from those of +the Great Andaman Division. One difference is that the Pandanus leaf, +which is used so much and in so many ways in the Great Andaman, seems +not to be used at all in the Little Andaman. Another is that shells, +which are much used in the Great Andaman, are used to a far less extent +in the Little Andaman. The natives of the Little Andaman told me that +they sometimes make ornaments of Dentalium shell, but I did not see any +such ornament, nor any other ornament of shell, in use. The ornaments +of netting worn in the Great Andaman, and forming the usual dancing +costume, seem not to be used in the Little Andaman. Finally, perhaps +most important of all, there is at present no evidence that the natives +of the Little Andaman make ornaments of either human or animal bones. +In the Little Andaman the lower jaw of a child is preserved by the +parents and is worn by them, but I never saw a human skull (whether of +child or adult) so worn, and I was not able to obtain any evidence of +the use of strings of human bones such as are constantly seen in a camp +of the Great Andaman. + +The points of similarity between the ornaments of the Little Andaman +and those of the Great Andaman are very few. One of the most striking +is the great use that is made in both divisions of the yellow skin of +the Dendrobium. It seems probable that here we have evidence of one +element of a primitive Negrito culture, for the Negritos of the +Philippines also are fond of using a yellow vegetable fibre for their +personal ornaments. So far as it is possible to judge from the figure +and description, the armlet given by Meyer in Plate iii, No. 11, seems +to be very similar to the ornamental cord of the Little Andaman. It is +described as a “mit schwarz und gelben Grasstreifchen umflocktener +Bambus-reif.” + +Another point of resemblance between the Great Andaman and the Little +Andaman is that in both very little use is made of feathers or flowers. +The natives of the Great Andaman never make use of the feathers of +birds. The Jarawa occasionally wear in a chaplet a feather of the +king-crow (Dicrurus macrocercus) if we may judge from a specimen in the +British Museum. The natives of the Little Andaman certainly do not as a +rule make any use of feathers. It would seem, from all accounts, that +the Semang and the Philippine Negritos do not make any considerable use +of feathers for personal ornament. We may perhaps hazard the conclusion +that this is a mark of the Negrito culture distinguishing them from +such people as the Papuans or Australians in whose personal ornaments +the feathers of birds occupy an important place. + +In the Great Andaman flowers are not used as personal ornaments. In the +British Museum there is an ornament from the Little Andaman consisting +of a strip of bark-fibre with a few flowers attached. + +As regards personal ornament, therefore, the only elements of a +primitive Negrito culture that we seem to be able to trace in the +Andamans at the present day are (1) the use of yellow vegetable fibre, +and (2) the absence of any considerable use of feathers. + +One element of a primitive Andamanese culture, though not necessarily +of a primitive Negrito culture, would seem to be the use of a tassel of +the fibre obtained from an unopened palm-leaf which is used by women to +cover their genitals in the Little Andaman, and was similarly used +until recently in the North Andaman. + + + +HAIR-DRESSING, SCARIFICATION, AND BODY-PAINTING. + +At the present time the usual method of hair-dressing in the Great +Andaman is to shave a portion of the scalp all round so as to leave a +sort of skull-cap of hair, as may be seen in many of the plates of this +volume. In some cases a “parting” is made by shaving a narrow strip +over the crown. (See Plate XV, for example.) When the hair grows so +long as to be uncomfortable the whole head is shaved, and it is then +permitted to grow again. In these days the natives cut their hair +whenever they have an opportunity of obtaining a pair of scissors. In +the Little Andaman women and old men are frequently to be seen with the +head entirely shaved. The younger men shave away the lower edge of the +hair all round in the same way as the natives of the Great Andaman, but +this may be a recent practice. + +The fashion of hair-dressing, at any rate for women, has changed within +recent times, for Mr Man wrote in 1882 that “the majority of the women +every week or ten days shave their heads almost entirely, leaving only +two narrow parallel lines of hair, termed gor, from the crown to the +nape of the neck [256].” At the present time this style of +hair-dressing has fallen entirely into disuse, and the women do their +hair in the same way as the men. + +The operation of shaving, which is done with a flake of glass or +quartz, is performed by women, and never, or very rarely, by men. + +Mention has been made in an earlier part of the work of the way in +which the natives of the Great Andaman scarify the skin of the body and +limbs with a flake of glass or quartz. The Semang do not scarify +themselves in this way, but some, at any rate, of the Negritos of the +Philippines do. + +The natives of the Great Andaman, as described earlier in this work, +paint their bodies with a grey clay called odu or og, with a fine white +clay, and with red paint made by mixing burnt oxide of iron with fat or +oil. The natives of the Little Andaman use the same kind of clay as +that called odu or og in the Great Andaman, but instead of applying it +in patterns they smear it roughly on the back and front of the trunk. +They also use red paint, with which they smear their hair, a practice +never met with in the Great Andaman. + + + +ORNAMENTATION. + +The Andamanese have simple designs which they paint or incise on their +bodies and on a great number of the objects that they make and use. A +few typical designs such as are incised or painted on belts of Pandanus +leaf are shown in Fig. 42. A very large number of designs are based on +the zig-zag line. Examples are shown in Fig. 42 c, e, and g. In all +parts of the Great Andaman and also in the Little Andaman the zig-zag +line is associated with snakes. Thus in the Little Andaman the simple +zig-zag line is called dobo kwolage (dobo = snake). In the North +Andaman the design of zig-zag lines painted on the body with white clay +is called or-čubi t’era-bat, or-čubi being the name of a species of +large snake. + +A number of other common designs consist of parallel lines of dots or +of short strokes, an example of which is shown in Fig. 42 f. + +By far the greater number of the Andamanese designs are based on the +following elements, (1) parallel lines crossing a surface from side to +side at right angles to the edge or else in a sloping direction (about +45°), (2) parallel lines of dots or of short lines, i.e. parallel +broken lines, as in Fig. 42 f, (3) zig-zag lines, which may be single, +or parallel or opposed so as to make lines of lozenges. As an example +of the way in which these elements may be combined two designs copied +from bamboo necklaces are shown in Fig. 43. + +It would perhaps be possible to show that there is a real connection +between the ornamentation of the Andamanese and that of the Semang, as +there is certainly a considerable degree of superficial resemblance, +but at present we understand so little the psychological processes +underlying the use of ornament amongst primitive peoples that the +subject is one of considerable difficulty. + + + +CANOES. + +Canoes are in regular use on the coast in all parts of the islands. +There are three types of canoe. (1) The Little Andaman canoe, with one +outrigger, propelled with paddles or with a pole. (2) The Great Andaman +small canoe, with one outrigger, propelled with paddles or with a pole. +(3) The Great Andaman large canoe, without outrigger, propelled with +oars. + +The third kind of canoe mentioned above is a recent innovation. The +natives themselves say that such canoes have only been made in recent +times, since they have been able to obtain a plentiful supply of iron +tools, and so have been able to cut down and hollow out large trunks +[257]. They seem to have been invented by the natives of the South +Andaman, and copied by those of the Middle and North Andaman. + +Canoes of this type are propelled by rowing with short oars, except in +shallow water where they are poled. This method of propulsion (rowing +as opposed to paddling) was adopted in imitation of the boats with +which they have become familiar since the European occupation. + +For the small canoe of the Great Andaman five or six species of +soft-wooded trees are used, of which three are species of Sterculia. A +suitable tree is selected near the shore or a creek, and is felled. +Care is taken to make it fall in a particular direction. Thus, if the +trunk is curved, the convex side of the curve will have to be the +bottom of the canoe, and the tree should fall so that this side lies on +the ground. Trees are very rarely regular and before beginning the work +of cutting the natives have to decide how it should be cut so as to +give the best result, i.e., the greatest stability. + +After the tree is felled the trunk is cut to the requisite length. The +inside of the canoe is first roughly hollowed out with the adze, no use +being made of fire. The bark is then removed from the outside of the +trunk and the two ends are shaped. Finally, the inside is carefully +finished with the adze so as to reduce the sides and bottom to the +requisite thickness. + +Except at the stem and stern, the canoe retains the shape of the tree, +only the bark being removed, and the sides and bottom being formed of +the alburnum or sap-wood. At the stern a small platform is cut +projecting over the water, which serves as a seat for the steersman. At +the prow a larger platform is cut, on which the harpooner stands when +he is harpooning turtle or fish. Below these two platforms the ends are +not cut away squarely but are rounded from side to side. The prow of +the canoe is in every case the lower and therefore broader end of the +trunk. It is only in this way that a sufficiently large platform can be +provided for the harpooner. + +The trees used for canoes have a pithy core and there is therefore a +small patch in both the prow and the stern which would admit the water. +In former times these two places were caulked with bees’-wax. At the +present time the natives often nail a piece of tin (part of an old +kerosene tin, for example), with some rags beneath it, on the outside +of the canoe at these two places. + +When the hull of the canoe is finished it is moved to the shore or to +the bank of a creek and the outrigger is attached. The float is a +straight spar of light wood. In the North Andaman the wood of the +Hibiscus tiliaceus is often used, but Mr Man says that in the South +Andaman the float is always made from a species of Sterculia (mai in +Aka-Bea) [258]. The ends of the float are only roughly shaped. The +broader end of the float is forward. + +The float is attached to a number of booms, of which there are never +less than three in the smallest canoes, while there may be as many as +eight or nine in a large canoe. A medium-sized canoe has five or six +booms. The boom is a thin straight piece of tough wood, of which one +end is sharpened and thrust right through two holes cut in the gunwales +of the canoe opposite to one another, the sharpened end projecting for +a few inches on the port side of the canoe. The boom thus projects +about three feet on the starboard side on the level of the gunwale. + +Where the boom passes through the gunwales of the canoe it is bound +with cane, and the cane is bound round the whole of that part of the +boom that is within the canoe between the two gunwales. (See Fig. 44.) +This portion of the boom forms a seat for the man paddling the canoe, +so that he sits on a level with the gunwale with his feet on the floor +of the canoe. + +The boom is attached to the float by means of sticks of tough wood. +These sticks, having pointed ends, are driven into the float, one +perpendicular, and the other two at an angle on each side. The tops of +the three sticks are fastened to the boom a few inches from its end by +means of a strip of cane. The arrangement of the three sticks is shown +in Fig. 45. + +The strip of cane with which the sticks are bound to the boom is wound +spirally round the boom itself for a few inches and is then carried +down round the float and back to the boom again on the other side. The +three sticks provide an efficient resistance against a longitudinal +thrust (i.e., a thrust in the same direction as the line of the canoe). +The strip of cane passing from the boom round the float and back to the +boom again provides a resistance against any lateral thrust on the +float. The three sticks, being driven in when the wood of the float is +dry, do not readily work loose, as the water in which it is constantly +immersed keeps the wood swollen. The cane binding, including the stays +on each side, may work loose, but can readily be tightened or renewed. +Each of the booms is attached to the float in exactly the same way, and +the whole arrangement is very efficient in keeping the float rigidly +attached to the hull in such a position that it rests on the surface of +the water when the hull itself rides freely balanced. + +Canoes of this type vary in dimensions within wide limits. A small +canoe with only three booms, which would carry three persons, measured +4·85 metres in length over all with a beam of about 35 centimetres. A +large canoe may measure as much as 9 metres with a proportionate beam. + +A well-made canoe will often balance well enough as it stands, but it +is sometimes necessary to balance it with ballast of stones or pieces +of coral. In any case the canoe is easily overturned in a rough sea +unless the occupants can maintain the balance with their bodies. As the +canoe is made of light wood it cannot sink even when full of water, and +the natives easily right an overturned canoe, bale it out, and get in +again, even in a rough sea. + +The furniture of a canoe consists of the ballast (of stone), a piece of +stone (or sometimes a piece of tin) on which to keep a small fire +smouldering, an anchor consisting of a lump of coral or stone attached +to a length of rope, a Nautilus shell or two for baling out the canoe, +a bamboo pole of about 18 feet in length for poling the canoe in +shallow water, and paddles. + +In the platform overhanging the prow a few holes are cut. These holes +are sometimes used to attach the rope by which the canoe is fastened to +an anchor. One or more turtle skulls are often attached so as to hang +down beneath the platform. In turtle-hunting expeditions on dark nights +a torch is slung beneath the forward platform so as to shed its light +on the water while the harpooner remains in shadow. + +When a canoe is finished it is decorated with designs painted on it +with red paint and white clay, particularly on the forward platform and +along the gunwale. These designs soon wear off when the canoe is in use +and are not renewed. + +The paddles used by the Andamanese vary considerably in size and to +some extent in shape, but the following description with its +accompanying figure gives a fair idea of a typical specimen. The whole +paddle has a length of 123·5 centimetres, the shaft being 85 +centimetres and the blade 38·5 centimetres. The diameter of the shaft +from the blade to the middle is 2·6 centimetres, and from the middle +towards the handle end it tapers to a point. The shaft is circular in +section throughout its length. The blade is leaf-shaped, pointed +bluntly at the apex. In section it is plano-convex, with a maximum +thickness of 1·3 centimetres and a width of 8·7 centimetres. Paddles +are cut with an adze from the wood of the Myristica longifolia and +planed with a boar’s tusk. They are often ornamented, when new, with +painted designs in red and white. + +In deep water the canoe is paddled. Each of the occupants sits facing +forward. The steersman sits on the stern platform. The others sit on +the seats provided by the outrigger booms. Each man paddles on which +side he chooses. It rests with the steersman to maintain the canoe in +its proper course. In shallow water the canoe is propelled with a pole. +A man stands on the forward platform and poles the canoe, steering as +he does so. In a fairly large canoe a man at the stern may also take a +pole and, standing up, help to propel the canoe. + +All the work connected with the making of canoes and paddles is done by +men alone, except the painting, which is usually done by women. It is +the men also who make most use of canoes. + +The large canoe, that is now made by all the tribes of the Great +Andaman Division, is simply a canoe of the same general shape as the +Great Andaman outrigger canoe, cut from a larger tree and without the +outrigger. The shape of the hull, with its platforms fore and aft, is +exactly the same. It seems that when the natives obtained a plentiful +supply of iron tools (after 1858) they began to cut down and hollow out +larger trees than formerly. Having made these larger canoes they found +that they would, when well cut and ballasted with stone, float quite +well without an outrigger. (It may be mentioned that the hull of a +small canoe is always tested on the water before the outrigger is +attached.) Indeed a well cut canoe of large size floats and balances +better in a rough sea than a smaller one with an outrigger. It is +possible that at first these large canoes were propelled with paddles +just as the outrigger canoes are, the paddlers facing forward. Having +learnt to understand the principle of the oar, through their contact +with the Penal Settlement, the natives applied this principle to their +own canoes. It could not, of course, be applied to the small canoes, as +the shape of the canoe and the position of the paddler make the use of +an oar impossible. It could be applied very easily, however, to the new +large canoes. In these the oarsman does not sit on a level with the +gunwale, but sits down in the hull itself on a piece of wood resting on +the two sides of the hull a few inches above the floor. The gunwale of +the canoe is thus about on a level with the bottom of his sternum. A +number of holes are made in the gunwale on each side, and by means of +these, loops of cane are attached to the gunwale. The oar, which is +shaped in imitation of European oars, but with a short shaft, is thrust +through the loop of cane, which serves as a fulcrum or rowlock. The +rowers face aft. A man at the stern steers with a paddle. In shallow +water the large canoes are propelled with poles in exactly the same way +as the smaller canoes. + +In the bow, at about the position that would be occupied by the +foremost boom in an outrigger canoe, holes are made in the gunwale on +each side and a piece of wood is thrust through them as a sort of +thwart. This is to provide a means of making fast the end of the +harpoon line or the anchor line, and thus serves a purpose that is +served by the foremost boom in the outrigger canoe. + +The large canoes are not quite so useful in turtle-hunting as the +smaller outrigger variety, as they cannot be so quickly turned when the +pursued turtle doubles. Very often a large canoe and a small canoe are +taken together on an expedition, the harpooning being mostly done from +the smaller one while the captured turtles are placed in the larger +one. A small canoe with three or four men cannot hold more than one or +at most two big turtles, whereas as many as ten or a dozen can be +stowed in one of the large canoes. + +The chief use of the large canoes is to make journeys from place to +place. One of the largest will hold as many as thirty men and women +with their baggage, whereas an outrigger canoe would never carry more +than nine or ten. Further, there is less chance of an even heavily +laden big canoe capsizing in a rough sea than of an outrigger canoe +doing so. One result of the introduction of the large canoe has +therefore been to enable the natives to move much more freely about the +islands than formerly. The passage from the South Andaman to Ritchie’s +Archipelago, for instance, would only be attempted in an outrigger +canoe on a very calm day, whereas in a large canoe it can be +successfully accomplished even when there is something of a sea +running. + +The small canoe of the Little Andaman is fairly similar to that of the +Great Andaman. There are three differences. (1) The stem and stern are +squarely cut in the Little Andaman, instead of being rounded off. (2) +The outrigger booms are attached to the top of the gunwale by cane +binding which passes through holes made in the gunwales, instead of +being themselves passed through holes in the gunwale. (3) The float is +attached to the booms in a different and less efficient manner. Three +pointed hard-wood sticks are driven into the float, but they are all +three approximately perpendicular. They are bound at the top to the +boom, but there are no stays of cane to maintain the float rigid +against a lateral thrust. In other respects the Little Andaman canoe is +the same as the Great Andaman canoe. + +The Jarawa of the South Andaman do not at the present time make use of +canoes. This is apparently because, through their hostility with the +Aka-Bea, they have been confined to the interior of the island. They +make rafts of bamboos lashed together for crossing creeks and inlets. +The forest-dwellers of the Great Andaman Division seem also to have +made occasional use of similar rafts for the same purpose. + +A canoe of the North Sentinel was seen by Mr Gilbert Rogers during a +visit to that island in 1903 [259]. It had been hollowed out of a tree +and was about 15 feet long. The ends of the canoe were cut off +perpendicularly to its length leaving a piece of the tree about one +inch thick projecting for about three inches beyond either end to form +a small but rickety seat. The log from which the canoe was cut was +curved so that the ends were slightly higher than the middle. It had a +float supported by six booms passing through holes cut in the sides of +the canoe. These booms were fastened to smaller pieces of stick fixed +into the sides of the canoe beneath them. The outrigger was attached to +each boom by two small pointed sticks driven into the float and tied to +the boom above with cane. There was one small paddle, a Nautilus shell +for a baler, and five poles resting on the outrigger booms. These point +to the canoe being poled along in the lagoon, which is quite shallow, +rather than to its being used for long journeys or outside the reefs +which surround the island. The canoe was 18 inches in diameter at the +smaller end and perhaps 30 inches wide at the larger end. + +This description shows that the canoe of the North Sentinel is on the +whole more like that of the Little Andaman than like that of the Great +Andaman. + +It seems probable that the Andaman Islands were peopled by sea from the +coast of Burma. If this were so, then the original ancestors of the +Andamanese must have been in possession of canoes. A consideration of +the present Andaman canoes suggests that their ancestors had canoes +with a single outrigger on the starboard side, with a number of booms. +Of the different methods of attaching the booms to the float, it is +possible that the method now in use in the Little Andaman (and +apparently also in the North Sentinel) is primitive, and that the Great +Andaman attachment is an improvement that has been invented since the +separation of the two divisions. On the other hand it is not impossible +that the Great Andaman attachment is primitive, and that in the Little +Andaman we have a degeneration that might be due to the fact that the +Little Andaman (and equally the North Sentinel) provides much less +scope for maritime pursuits than the Great Andaman. + +The recent invention of the large canoe in the Great Andaman and the +adoption of the principle of the oar shows that the Andamanese readily +adopt new inventions when these are clearly of service to them. + +Turning now to the Semang, as these people live inland they have no use +for canoes. They make rafts of bamboos lashed together with which they +float down the rivers, returning overland. + +Some of the Philippine Negritos seem to live on the coast and possibly +have canoes, but nothing is known about these. + + + +CONCLUSION. + +The examination of the technical culture of the Andamanese given above +has been sufficient to enable us to make a few statements as to what +was probably the culture of the Negritos before they were split up into +isolated groups. It is highly probable that they obtained their +subsistence solely by hunting and collecting vegetable products. They +had bows and arrows, the form of bow being probably fairly similar to +that used at the present day in the Little Andaman, while for hunting +the larger animals they had arrows with detachable heads. They possibly +had no knowledge of any way of making implements of stone, but made use +only of such materials as wood, bone, and shell. It is not probable +that they possessed the art of making pottery, and their basketry and +mat-work were probably confined to very simple forms. In their personal +ornaments there is reason to think that they showed a fondness for +bright yellow vegetable fibre, and made little or no use of the +feathers of birds. The ornamentation of their utensils was probably +confined to the use of the simplest forms of geometric design with a +preponderance of the zig-zag and the lozenge. Finally their huts +consisted of a single sloping roof sufficient to afford shelter for a +single family or larger huts consisting of such small huts joined +together. + +We have seen that since the Andamanese have occupied their present +home, or at any rate since the Great Andaman Division and the Little +Andaman Division have been separated from one another, many changes, +some of considerable importance, have taken place in the Andaman +technology. In general it would seem that the technical culture of the +Great Andaman has changed more than that of the Little Andaman. Putting +aside the effect on the technology of the introduction of iron, there +is no evidence that any of the changes that have taken place in the +Great Andaman have been due to outside influence. Important +modifications have taken place in the form of the bow, in the forms and +technique of baskets, and in personal ornaments, and in all these +instances there is no reason to think that these changes have not been +brought about by the natives themselves without the influence of +contact with other people. Their method of working iron, based as it +is, to all appearance, on their former method of working shell, shows +that even here, though the iron itself came to them from outside, and +even though they may have learnt its use from seeing it used by aliens, +still they have not learnt from others how to fashion the metal into +shape by heating it. Thus, so far as their technical culture is +concerned, there is no evidence whatever that the Andamanese have ever +been influenced by contact with any other race since the time, now many +centuries ago, when they first reached the islands. + +On the other hand there is some probability that the ancestors of the +Andamanese, before they first reached the islands, or at any rate +before the isolation of the Little Andaman from the Great Andaman, had +learnt from some other race how to make pottery, and it is possible +that at the same time they may have acquired other elements of their +culture, such as the outrigger canoe. We may even give a guess as to +the particular culture from which the ancestors of the Andamanese may +have adopted these elements, which may well have been that of a branch +of that people of whom an offshoot peopled the Nicobars. + +Confirmation of these hypotheses, if confirmation be ever forthcoming, +can only be obtained in the study of the history of races and of +culture in south-eastern Asia. Until we have much fuller knowledge of +the culture of the Semang and the Negritos of the Philippines, any +conclusions that may be drawn from the study of the Andamanese alone +must be regarded as provisional working hypotheses only, and it is as +such that they are here put forward. + + + + + + + + +APPENDIX B + +THE SPELLING OF ANDAMANESE WORDS + + +In writing words of the Andaman languages I have used a slightly +modified form of the “Anthropos” Alphabet of Father Schmidt [260], +which I consider to be by far the most scientific alphabet for writing +down the languages of primitive peoples. The consonants are + + + k g y ŋ + č ǰ + ń + t d n l r + p b w m + + +The letter ŋ is used for the nasalised guttural stop (ng in English) +which should always be written with one letter, since it is a single +consonant, quite distinct from the double consonant ng of “ungodly.” +The letter ń stands for a palatalised n, something like the sound in +French “agneau.” The č and ǰ, which, in the “Anthropos” Alphabet +represent the sounds in English “church” and “judge” respectively, +should, I think, really be written t′ and d′. The t′ is a palatalised +t, as heard in “Tuesday,” whereas the č is a fricative, often regarded +as a compound of t and sh. It is not always easy to distinguish t′ from +č and d′ from ǰ, but I believe the Andamanese sounds are really t′ and +d′, and this is to some extent confirmed by the fact that they have no +s, z, sh or zh in their languages. I have used the č and ǰ because +former writers had written these sounds ch and j and it seemed worth +while to make some sacrifice of scientific exactness in order to avoid +too great a divergence in spelling from previous workers in the same +field. + +The remaining consonants may be pronounced as in English. I have not +distinguished between different varieties of the consonants l, r, t, d, +k and g. Further I have not distinguished between p and p̌ (the labial +fricative). Many of the words of the Northern languages that I have +written with a p are often pronounced with a p̌ sound. + +The vowels are + + + i u + e o ö + e̱ o̱ + a̤ a̱̱ + a + + +These may be pronounced as follows: + + + i, intermediate between the vowels of “it” and “eat.” + e, as the vowel in “say.” + e̱, as the e in “error” or the a in “Mary.” + a̤, as the a in “man.” + a, as the a in French “pas.” + a̱̱, as the a in “path.” + o̱, as the vowel in “not” or in “nought.” + o, as in “go.” + u, as the vowel in “fool.” + ö, nearly as the German ö. + + +I have not attempted to distinguish all the different varieties of +vowel sounds that are found in the different dialects. Slightly +different but closely related sounds are represented by the same letter +[261]. + +In writing Andamanese words I have followed the practice of separating +by hyphens the affixes from the stems in each word. In the Andamanese +languages there are two main classes of words. The first class consists +of words each of which is a simple stem (without affixes). Such words +are the names of what the Andaman Islander regards as simple +independent objects or things, such as roa, canoe, baraba, a mat, ra, a +pig. The second class consists of words each of which is formed of a +stem and a prefix. In the language of the Little Andaman (and in that +of the Jarawa as far as known) these prefixes are simple vowels, i-, +e-, a-, o-, and u-. In the languages of the Great Andaman Division they +are such as ot-, aka-, era-, e-, u-, ab-, etc. Such words are used to +denote dependent objects such as the parts, qualities or actions of a +thing. Thus while a pig (ra) or a canoe (roa) is an independent object +and is therefore denoted by a simple stem, the head or prow of a pig or +canoe, being a part of a “thing,” is denoted by a word (ot-čo) +consisting of a stem (-čo) and a prefix (ot-). So also the quality of +bigness which may belong to a pig or a canoe is denoted by a word +(er-kuro) consisting of a stem (-kuro) and a prefix (er-). + +Thus the second class includes many words that we should call nouns, +all the words we should call adjectives and practically all those we +should regard as verbs. In the Andamanese languages the distinction +between nouns and adjectives is not very clear and even less so is the +distinction between adjectives and verbs. Whereas the distinction +between things (independent objects) on the one hand, and the parts, +qualities, actions, etc. of things on the other, is of the utmost +importance. For this reason I have thought it advisable always to +separate by a hyphen the prefix and the stem in words of the second +class. + +In compound words or phrases in which the second word consists of +prefix and stem it is common to insert before the prefix a t or an l. +Thus ra t’er-kuro is “a big pig” and ra t’ot-čo is “a pig’s head.” In +writing such words I have placed an inverted comma between the t or l +and the prefix. This infix t must not be confused with the first +personal pronoun in the North Andaman, Tio, contracted to T’ before a +prefix. + + + + + + + + +NOTES + + +[1] “Notes on the Languages of the Andaman Islands,” by A. R. Brown, +Anthropos, Vol. IX, 1914, pp. 36–52 with map. This paper contains notes +on I, The Relations of the Andamanese Languages, and II, The Formation +of Words in the Language of the Little Andaman. + +[2] I hope to be able to publish shortly the first volume of a work in +which the same method is applied to the interpretation of the social +institutions of the natives of Australia. + +[3] The formation of the Arakan Fold (including the Andaman and Nicobar +Islands), dates from the middle of the Tertiary Period, and was +apparently connected with the great movements that produced the +Himalaya-Alpine mountain system and the Circum-Pacific Fold. The +Andaman Sea, in the later Tertiary period, was prolonged much further +to the north, over the region now occupied by the Pegu Yomah. + +[4] This line of volcanic activity is a minor continuation of the Sunda +Range of volcanoes of Java and Sumatra. It is continued northward, +parallel to the Arakan Fold, as far as the extinct volcano of +Puppadoung, east of Pagan, not far from Lat. 21°. + +[5] The flora of the Andamans and Cocos contains a number of species, +the presence of which can only be explained by the supposition of a +past land connection with the Arakan region. (See Prain, “The +Vegetation of the Coco Group,” Journ. Asiatic Soc. of Bengal, Vol. LX, +Part II, pp. 283–406.) On the other hand, the paucity of mammalian +fauna is such as to lead to the conclusion that the islands were +isolated at a period when the mammals now typical of the mainland did +not exist there. (See Miller, “Mammals of the Andaman and Nicobar +Islands,” Proc. National Museum, U.S.A. Vol. XXIV). + +[6] There is no evidence of the former existence of Negritos in the +Nicobars, but on the other hand, there is equally no direct evidence of +their former presence in Lower Burma. + +[7] On the accompanying map of south-eastern Asia the regions now +occupied by the Negritos are shown by the shading. + +[8] Anciennes Relations des Indes et de la Chine; De Deux Voyageurs +Mahometans, qui y allerent dans le neuvième siècle; Traduites d’Arabe +(par M. l’Abbé Renaudot). Paris, MDCCXVIII, pp. 5 and 6. + +[9] Takakasu’s Edition of I-tsing, pp. xxviii seq. + +[10] The Travels of Marco Polo, Edited by John Masefield, Everyman’s +Library, 1908, p. 347. + +[11] Extracts of Master Caesar Frederike: his Eighteene Yeeres’ Indian +Observations, Purchas: his Pilgrimes, London, 1625; Vol. II, p. 1710. +In spite of the repeated descriptions of the Andamanese by early +writers as ferocious cannibals, there is good reason to think that they +have not deserved quite so evil a reputation. If they had ever been +cannibals they had certainly abandoned the custom by the time the +islands were occupied in 1858. It is improbable that such inveterate +man-eaters, as they are supposed to have been, would have entirely +altered their ways in the course of a century or two. The legend +probably had its origin in the fact that the Andamanese attacked all +strangers who landed on their coasts, and (in the North Andaman, at any +rate) often disposed of the bodies of slain enemies by cutting them in +pieces and burning them on a fire. + +[12] The account is that of a visit to the Andamans in 1771 by John +Ritchie, published in the Indian Antiquary, Vol. XXX, 1901, pp. 232 +seq. Two natives came off to the ship in a canoe, and Ritchie writes: +“I gave them some nails and bits of old iron which pleased them much; +and about three in the afternoon, they went into the canoe, and tried +hard to pull the chain plates from the vessel’s side. They went astern +when this would not do, and dragged strongly and long at the rudder +chains; but these were too well fixed; and at last, they went towards +the shore at an easy rate, looking at their nails, and singing all the +way.” + +[13] In 1906 some Little Andaman visitors to Rutland Island captured a +Jarawa of that part. They told me that though he spoke differently from +them, they could understand him fairly well. + +[14] Portman, M. V., A History of Our Relations with the Andamanese, +Calcutta, 1899. + +[15] This estimate is based on what the Andamanese were able to tell me +of the conditions under which they formerly lived. Of course such an +estimate can only be of small value. I think it is more probable that I +have underestimated the former population than that I have +overestimated it. + +[16] Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes, p. +27. + +[17] Page 18 above. + +[18] A few small areas were not occupied at all, for example the +greater part of Saddle Peak in the North Andaman, which is covered with +dense jungle and is supposed by the natives to be the haunt of large +and deadly snakes and of evil spirits. + +[19] Mouat, F. J., Adventures and Researches among the Andaman +Islanders, London, 1863, p. 313. + +[20] Loc. cit. p. 300. + +[21] Journ. Anthrop. Inst. Vol. XII, pp. 107 and 108. + +[22] Portman, Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of +Tribes, p. 23. + +[23] The photograph is reproduced in Le Tour du Monde, 1895, p. 447. + +[24] See Journ. Anthrop. Inst. Vol. XII, p. 71. + +[25] Man, op. cit. p. 108. + +[26] In the North Andaman the times before the Settlement are spoken of +as the time when there were no dogs, Bibi poiye = “Dog not.” + +[27] They are only eaten in the rainy season. + +[28] There are two kinds of wild bee in the Andamans. A small species +makes black honeycombs in hollow trees, and these may be found at any +time of the year. A larger species of bee builds white combs suspended +from the underside of branches in tall trees. Such combs are found in +abundance only in the hot season, and not at all in the middle of the +rainy season. + +[29] Man, in Journ. Anthrop. Inst. Vol. XII, p. 108. + +[30] The natives of the North Andaman were able to tell me of a few +cases of murder which had occurred within the memory of those still +living. + +Mr Portman in his History of Our Relations with the Andamanese records +a certain number of murders which occurred while he was in charge of +the Andamanese. One man, who had been imprisoned at Port Blair for +murder, committed another soon after his release and was hanged. Since +that date there has been no case of murder among the Great Andaman +tribes. This is perhaps in part due to the punishment with which they +are now threatened by the Government, but another cause is probably the +breakdown of the old social organisation which has in this respect +rather improved their morals than the opposite. + +[31] The nickname is applied, however, not only to those who deserve it +by their character, but also to others; for instance, one man was +called Tarenǰek because his maternal uncle was a man of violent temper. + +[32] See below, Chap. IV. + +[33] The classificatory system of relationship was first studied and +named by Lewis H. Morgan, in Systems of Consanguinity and Affinity of +the Human Family, Washington, Smithsonian Institution, 1871. The +subject is also discussed in the same author’s Ancient Society. +Although there has been a good deal of attention paid to the systems of +relationship of savage tribes since the time of Morgan, there is no +general work on the subject that supersedes these two books. + +[34] The terms used in any society to denote relationships are of +interest to the ethnologist as an important means to the discovery of +the relationship system (i.e. the system of juridical and moral +institutions) existing in the same society. Without a thorough +knowledge of the terms in use and their exact meanings it is impossible +to discover the rights and duties of relatives one to another. It is, +however, sometimes forgotten that the study of terms of relationship is +not an end in itself but a means to a more important study. + +[35] In the Andamanese languages a large number of words are formed +from a stem and a prefix. E-, ot-, aka-, ara-, ab- etc. are prefixes of +this kind. The function of the prefixes is (1) to show that the object +denoted by the word is in a dependent relation to some other object +understood, as for instance that it is part of that other object, and +(2) to modify the reference of the stem, as for instance while e-tire +means the offspring of an animal or an human being, era-tire means the +offspring of a tree or plant (the young shoots). For a description of +these prefixes the reader may be referred to the work of Mr Portman, +Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes. + +[36] Dege bula and dege pal mean “my husband” and “my wife” +respectively. + +[37] Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes. + +[38] Man, op. cit. p. 421. The dia, or the d’ before a prefix, in the +words of this list is the pronoun “my.” + +[39] Portman, Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of +Tribes, p. 255. + +[40] Op. cit. p. 100. + +[41] The natives commonly applied the term to me, in the form Mam-jula. + +[42] The systems of relationship of savage peoples are often very +difficult to study, even with a thorough mastery of the native +language. My account of the Andamanese system is not perhaps complete +and is therefore open to error. Since the above account was written I +have had the opportunity of studying in Australia several examples of +“classificatory” systems of relationship, and can now say very +definitely that such a system presents an extreme contrast to the +system of the Andamans. My failure fully to comprehend the Andamanese +system was partly due to the difficulties of the language, in which I +did not have time to become expert, and partly to the nature of the +Andamanese terms, of which it is by no means easy to discover the +meaning, even with careful observation. + +[43] Man, op. cit. p. 135. He speaks of the wives as “models of +constancy.” + +[44] I collected a number of genealogies from the natives, but +unfortunately my own inexperience in the use of the genealogical +method, and my consequent inability to surmount the difficulties with +which I met, made this branch of my investigations a failure. + +[45] When a husband and wife greet one another the man sits on the lap +of the wife. + +[46] Man, op. cit. p. 139. + +[47] Ibid. + +[48] Man, op. cit. p. 139. + +[49] Man, op. cit. p. 125. + +[50] It would not be safe, however, to base any arguments of importance +to sociology on the above description of the Andamanese system of +relationship alone. Although I tried to learn all that I could on the +subject, it is quite certain that I did not learn all that was to be +learnt, and it is possible that further enquiry might have shown that I +was mistaken in some of my observations. The difficulty of being really +sure on these matters is due (1) to the fact that the breaking-up of +the old local organisation has produced many changes in their customs, +and (2) to the difficulty of questioning the natives on matters +connected with relationships when they have no words in their language +to denote any but the simplest relationships. + +[51] The dance is described in the next chapter. + +[52] In the years 1872 to 1902 inclusive the Jarawa made eight attacks +on camps of the friendly Andamanese in different places, in which two +of the friendly Andamanese men and one girl were killed and three men +and one boy were wounded. There were also one or two casual meetings +between Jarawa and friendly Andamanese. One of the friendlies was +surprised and killed while turtle hunting in 1894. During the same +years the Jarawa made on different occasions about twenty attacks on +parties of convicts or on separate individuals, killing altogether 27 +convicts and two police constables, and wounding six other convicts. In +these skirmishes and in the expeditions to which they gave rise three +Jarawa were killed and seven wounded on various occasions, and several +times Jarawa men, women or children were captured and afterwards +released. A number of convicts have at different times run away from +the Settlement and as some of those were never after heard of they may +be supposed to have been killed by the Jarawa. For an official record +of dealings with the Jarawa see the “Census Report” 1901, pp. 68–90. + +[53] I could not obtain any definite legend about these stones, but one +informant said that when Biliku got angry and destroyed the world (see +later, Chap. IV) the children all became stones at this place. + +[54] This is the plant (not identified) of which the leaves were, till +recent times, worn by the women of the North Andaman to cover the +pudenda. In the South Andaman the leaves of the Mimusops littoralis are +in use for this purpose, and the Northern tribes have recently given up +their own custom and adopted that of the South. + +[55] Unfortunately I was not able to see this ceremony performed, and +my information is therefore derived from the statements of the natives. + +[56] There is no secrecy about any of the proceedings; the whole +ceremony is performed in the village and may be witnessed by anybody. + +[57] In the Southern tribes large stones are placed on the youth’s +thighs. + +[58] In these days the natives are very fond of tea, which they obtain +from the Andamanese Homes; during the ceremony described above the +youth or girl is not permitted to drink tea. + +[59] I believe that the dance is intended to imitate the movement of a +turtle as it swims through the water. + +[60] The meaning of the word kimil (or gumul) will be discussed in a +later chapter. + +[61] This plant is selected because it is associated with +honey-gathering; its bitter sap, being extremely obnoxious to bees, is +smeared over their persons when taking a comb, and enables them to +escape scot free with their prize. (Note by Mr Man.) + +[62] This is believed to be the Ophiophagus elaps. (Note by Mr Man.) + +[63] Man, op. cit. p. 133. + +[64] Man, loc. cit. p. 143. + +[65] Man, op. cit. p. 354. Mr Man adds in a note that “it is believed +that Puluga would punish severely any person who might be guilty of +eating his yat-tub, either by causing his skin to peel off (wainyake) +or by turning his hair white and flaying him alive.” On Puluga see +later, Chaps. III and IV. + +[66] Turtle are captured alive by means of harpoons, and may be kept +alive several days before they are killed and eaten. + +[67] Mr M. V. Portman gives a list of personal names in use in the +South Andaman in his Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group +of Tribes, p. 70. The derivations of many of the names as there given, +are, however, of doubtful accuracy. + +[68] Portman, Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of +Tribes, pp. 166–188. + +[69] A similar custom is found in many savage tribes. Thus in many +parts of Australia the aborigines call white men by the same name that +they apply to the spirits of the dead. + +[70] Man, op. cit. pp. 158, 159. + +[71] Portman, Notes on the Languages, etc. p. 183. + +[72] Man, op. cit. p. 152. + +[73] Ibid. p. 160. + +[74] Man, op. cit. p. 160. + +[75] Ibid. p. 161. + +[76] Portman, Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman, p. 328. + +[77] Portman, Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman, p. 314. + +[78] Man, op. cit. pp. 153, 154. + +[79] Man, op. cit. p. 165. + +[80] Ibid. p. 153. + +[81] Man, op. cit. p. 157. + +[82] Man, op. cit. p. 112. + +[83] Man, op. cit. p. 159. + +[84] Ibid. p. 158. + +[85] Man, op. cit. p. 153. + +[86] Man, op. cit. p. 159. + +[87] Man, op. cit. p. 161. + +[88] I could not obtain any information about the word that Mr Man +gives as chaitan. Some men of the South Andaman whom I questioned did +not seem to recognize the word, except as their way of pronouncing the +Urdu word shaitan = devil. + +[89] In the “Census Report” 1901, p. 62, Sir Richard Temple writes, +“The Andamanese have an idea that the ‘soul’ will go under the earth by +an aerial bridge after death, but there is no heaven nor hell nor any +idea of a corporeal resurrection in a religious sense.” + +[90] It may be noted that in the Andamanese languages there is no +future tense of the verb, and it is often very difficult to know +whether a speaker is referring to the present or to the future. +Further, although there is a past tense, a native often uses the +present tense in a narrative relating to the past, so that a statement +relating to the past and one relating to the future may have exactly +the same grammatical form. Mr Ellis, writing in the Journal of the +Philological Society (1882) from information supplied by Mr Man, gives +a verbal suffix -ngabo denoting the future in the Aka-Bea language. Mr +Portman points out that this is an error. (Notes on the Languages of +the South Andaman, p. 88.) + +[91] Man, op. cit. p. 96. + +[92] Man, op. cit. p. 83. + +[93] In preparing the fibre, the skin or bark of the young shoots of +the plant is torn off in strips and these are placed on the thigh and +scraped with a Cyrena shell. + +[94] Man, op. cit. pp. 153 and 172. + +[95] Portman, Notes on the Languages, etc. p. 97. + +[96] The legend will be given later. + +[97] Man, op. cit. p. 169. + +[98] The suffix -la is added to personal names and to terms of address +in order to express respect. + +[99] The name seems to mean “alone.” + +[100] The giant bamboo does not grow in the Andamans, but pieces of it +are often drifted ashore, having come from the coast of Burma. The +natives pick up these drift-wood bamboos and make buckets of them. It +is possible that the bamboo from which the first man was born was just +such a piece drifted up from the sea. Unfortunately I neglected to +enquire on this point when taking down the legend. + +[101] The meaning of the name is “the cave of Tarai”; I believe that +this is the name of a spot in the Aka-J̌eru country. + +[102] The meaning of the name was not discovered. + +[103] The lizard was caught in some way by his genital organs, but I +was unable to understand the story completely. + +[104] This is the small platform of sticks placed near or above the +fire, on which the natives keep their food, and on which they often +place objects that they desire to dry. + +[105] Notes on the Languages, etc. p. 227. + +[106] When an old man of the A-Pučikwar tribe was giving me the +information repeated above, an Andamanese man was with us who had been +brought up as a Christian and had some knowledge of the doctrines of +that faith. He explained to me that Tomo is the equivalent of the +Christian God. This man belonged to the Akar-Bale tribe. + +[107] These names are common personal names among the aborigines of the +present day. Mr Portman derives Nyali from nam-da, the name of a tree, +and Irap from pira-da meaning “scattered,” but these derivations are +far from being authenticated. (Portman, Notes on the Languages of the +South Andaman Group of Tribes, p. 70.) + +[108] The place called Irap is at the north end of Havelock Island. + +[109] Man, op. cit. p. 164. + +[110] Until the settlement of Europeans on the islands the Andamanese +had no knowledge of any means of producing fire. It is necessary to +remember this to understand some of their legends which relate how in +the time of the ancestors the fire was very nearly lost in a heavy +storm. + +[111] I understood that Lirtit, by the loss of his wings and tail, +became a man. + +[112] Portman, loc. cit. + +[113] Mo̱m is a title indicating respect, and Mirit is the imperial +pigeon. + +[114] Portman, loc. cit. + +[115] Ibid. + +[116] Portman, loc. cit. + +[117] Man, op. cit. p. 164. + +[118] Ibid. + +[119] Man, op. cit. p. 167. + +[120] Dik was one of the ancestors. He was a giant and was so big that +he could go into the deepest water and never needed a canoe. He used to +shoot dugong and porpoise with his bow and arrow. (The natives shoot +small fish with a bow and arrows, but large fish and dugong and +porpoise they take with harpoons.) + +[121] Karami is the name of a bird that was not identified. + +[122] Kočurag-boa is the Akar-Bale name for a huge legendary animal. + +[123] When a man has killed another, either in a personal or a tribal +quarrel, he has to observe several customs of which one is to keep +himself painted with red paint for several weeks. + +[124] Man, op. cit. p. 171. + +[125] Man, op. cit. pp. 167–169. + +[126] Notes on the Languages, etc. p. 27. + +[127] Man, op. cit. p. 166. + +[128] Ibid. + +[129] Man, op. cit. p. 169. + +[130] This is the name of some creature that I did not identify, +perhaps a kind of spider. + +[131] An Andaman Islander will often, when walking along the shore, +shoot his arrows before him, either aiming at some object, or trying to +send each one as far as possible. I have never seen them do this in the +jungle, for they might easily lose the arrows. + +[132] The Andamanese classify resin as a “stone” although they know its +vegetable origin. + +[133] Man, op. cit. p. 172. + +[134] Kalwadi is a small crab, yaramurud is the crow pheasant +(Centropus andamanensis), and toau is the hawksbill turtle. + +[135] Knives are generally carried slipped into a string that is tied +round the neck, the knife, with a skewer of sharpened wood that is +attached to it, hanging at the back of the neck, where it is easily +accessible and not likely to get lost. + +[136] I could obtain no explanation of the phrase, or word, to̱ kit. My +informant only said “That is the way the spirits talk.” + +[137] Man, op. cit. p. 165. + +[138] The sneezing (the word is translated literally) is a sort of +whistling noise that the wild pigs make when they suspect danger. + +[139] The Andamanese always disembowel a pig and sever the joints of +its legs before they place it on a fire. + +[140] Man, op. cit. p. 170. + +[141] Page 214. + +[142] Man, op. cit. p. 170. + +[143] In taking a honeycomb the natives often drive away the bees with +fire or smoke. + +[144] In climbing a tall tree the Andamanese choose a stout cane or +other creeper depending from one of the branches of the tree, and climb +up it. + +[145] The natives express their joy at a success in hunting by +shouting. + +[146] Man, op. cit. p. 173. + +[147] The narrator said “resin.” The Dipterocarpus tree does not +produce resin, but a sort of oil. The marks on the two fishes owe their +origin to this incident. + +[148] Man, op. cit. p. 173. + +[149] Man, op. cit. p. 169. + +[150] Vide supra, p. 142. + +[151] The making of such hypothetical reconstructions of the past has +been regarded by a number of writers as the principal if not the sole +task of ethnology. My own view is that such studies can never be of any +great scientific value. Although, within narrow limits, particularly +when the method is applied to the facts of language and material +culture, it is possible to reach conclusions of some degree of +probability, yet by their very nature all such hypotheses are incapable +of verification. Moreover, the purpose of scientific studies is to +discover general laws, and hypotheses as to events in the past of which +we have and can have no certain knowledge will not provide suitable +material from which to draw generalisations. + +[152] It may be worth while to mention that the interpretation of +Andamanese customs given in this chapter was not worked out until after +I had left the islands. Had it been otherwise I should have made +careful enquiries into subjects which, as it was, escaped my notice. + +[153] Tylor, Primitive Culture, I, 387. + +[154] Frazer, Totemism and Exogamy, IV. + +[155] Max Müller, Physical Religion, p. 119. + +[156] Marett, Threshold of Religion. + +[157] McDougall, Introduction to Social Psychology, Chap. XIII, seems +to combine the two hypotheses. + +[158] For a criticism of the hypotheses of animism and naturism as +explanations of primitive religion see Durkheim, Les Formes +Élémentaires de la Vie Religieuse, Book I, chapters 2 and 3. + +[159] Sentiment,—an organised system of emotional tendencies centred +about some object. + +[160] See p. 73 above. + +[161] Page 134. + +[162] In a few words the psycho-physical theory here assumed is that +weeping is a substitute for motor activity when the kinetic system of +the body (motor centres, thyroid, suprarenals, etc.) is stimulated but +no effective action in direct response to the stimulus is possible at +the moment. When a sentiment is stimulated and action to which it might +lead is frustrated, the resultant emotional state is usually painful, +and hence weeping is commonly associated with painful states. + +[163] McDougall, Social Psychology. + +[164] Active sympathy, the habitual sharing of joyful and painful +emotions, is of the utmost importance in the formation of sentiments of +personal attachment. + +[165] It is a commonplace of psychology that a collective emotion, i.e. +one felt and expressed at the same moment by a number of persons, is +felt much more intensely than an unshared emotion of the same kind. + +[166] It will be shown later in the chapter that when individuals are +excluded from participation in the dance it is because they are in a +condition of partial exclusion from the common life. + +[167] The psychology of dancing offers a wide field for study that has +as yet, so far as I know, been barely touched. The following brief +notes are therefore necessarily incomplete and somewhat unsatisfactory. + +[168] I have known a dance to be continued for seven or eight hours, +each dancer taking only short periods of rest; and it must be +remembered that the Andamanese dance is more strenuous than our +ball-room dances. + +[169] Man, op. cit. p. 76. + +[170] Man, op. cit. p. 333. + +[171] In a number of tribes of Western Australia I found an exactly +similar custom. It was formerly the rule that after the death of a near +relative the mourner must abstain from eating kangaroo, that being the +largest game animal. Since the establishment of sheep stations in their +country, with the consequent great decrease in numbers of the kangaroo, +it has come about that the animal which now provides their most +important supply of meat is the sheep, and the modern rule is that a +mourner must not eat mutton. + +[172] Page 171. + +[173] The brakes formed by the cane (bido) from the leaves of which the +ko̱ro fibre is obtained seem to be regarded as lurking places of the +spirits. The natives often speak of the Bido-teč-lau (Calamus leaf +spirits). + +[174] Page 216. + +[175] The psychological function of individual anger is to restore to +their normal condition the wounded self-regarding sentiments. The +function of collective anger is similarly to restore the collective +sentiments on which the solidarity of the society depends. + +[176] I once drew a few grotesque figures for the amusement of some +Andamanese children, and they at once pronounced them to be “spirits.” + +[177] The Andamanese beliefs about storms and the weather generally +will be dealt with in the next chapter. + +[178] See above, p. 119. + +[179] See p. 227. + +[180] I am unfortunately obliged to leave a big gap in this chapter and +in the book, owing to my inability to discuss the Andamanese notions +about sex. The natives of the Great Andaman at the present time show an +unusual prudery in their conversation and dealings with white men, but +there is good reason to suspect that this is due to the influence of +officers who have been in charge of the Andaman Home in former years. +At the present time all the men except a few of the oldest in remote +parts are very careful never to appear before a white man without some +covering although formerly they wore nothing. In their conversation in +the presence of a white man they are careful to avoid reference to +sexual matters. The men of the Little Andaman who have not come under +the influence of the Andamanese Homes, still go naked and unashamed, +and indulge in obscene gestures and jokes. At the time I was in the +Andamans I failed to realise the very great importance of a thorough +knowledge of the notions of a primitive people on matters of sex in any +attempt to understand their customs, and therefore failed to make the +necessary enquiries. + +[181] In order to carry the analysis further it would be necessary to +consider in detail the whole question of the relation of art and +ceremonial, and that of the social function of art which is involved in +it, and also to deal with the notion of “value” as it appears in +primitive societies. The material from the Andaman Islands is not +suitable for the discussion of these problems. + +[182] The exposition of this important thesis can only be given here in +the most abbreviated form. The thesis itself, as applied to primitive +ritual in general, owes its origin to Professor Émile Durkheim, and has +been expounded by him (more particularly in his work Les Formes +élémentaires de la Vie religieuse) and by Messieurs H. Hubert and M. +Mauss. + +[183] Primus in orbe deos fecit timor. + +[184] Page 214. + +[185] We have seen, in the last chapter, that any condition of the +individual in which he is withdrawn from active participation in the +common life is regarded as one of danger from magico-religious forces +antagonistic to the society. + +[186] It will be shown later in the chapter that some part of the +respect paid to the cicada is due to its connection not with the day +and night but with the seasons of the year. + +[187] Page 215. + +[188] Page 221. + +[189] Page 294. + +[190] Page 215. + +[191] Page 213. + +[192] Pages 207 and 204. + +[193] Page 207. + +[194] Ibid. + +[195] Page 204. + +[196] Page 203. + +[197] Page 207. + +[198] Page 202. + +[199] Page 206. + +[200] Ibid. + +[201] Page 207. + +[202] Page 208. + +[203] The same threefold division of the world is seen in the beliefs +about the three kinds of spirits, those of the forest, those of the +sea, and the Morua who, while spoken of as spirits of the sky, are +often thought of as living in the tops of the tall trees. + +[204] Page 218. + +[205] It is worth while to recall here the belief that if a man goes +into the water after eating civet-cat he will not be able to swim. + +[206] Page 208. + +[207] Ibid. + +[208] Page 209. + +[209] Page 206. + +[210] Page 207. + +[211] It appears also in geographical names. Puluga-l’ar-mugu, meaning +‘the Puluga front’ is the name of a part of the Archipelago facing the +N.E. and means ‘the side facing Puluga.’ + +[212] Although it is generally believed that storms (or more exactly, +violent storms or cyclones) are the results of the anger of Biliku, yet +there is a conflicting belief that storms are made by the spirits, +particularly the spirits of the sea. + +[213] Page 154. + +[214] The application of the name biliku to the spider is clearly a +minor motive, and probably a late accretion. The name of the N.E. +monsoon is the same in all the divisions of the Andamans about which we +have information, with dialectic differences only. In the Little +Andaman the form of the name is Öluga, and the same name is given to +the monitor lizard. Presumably, therefore, there was originally one +name throughout the Andamans for the N.E. monsoon (Öluga, Puluga, +Bilik, Bilika, Biliku) and later this name was applied to the spider in +the North Andaman and to the monitor lizard in the Little Andaman. It +may be noted that the name of the monitor lizard varies from one +language to another in the Great Andaman. + +[215] It is to be noted that these tabus connected with Biliku are not +absolute prohibitions; they are beliefs that if certain things are done +Biliku will be angry (i.e., there may be storms); if you do these +things you must risk the danger. It is exactly the same with the +roasting of pork. + +[216] See, for instance, the Aka-J̌eru legend on pages 197–198, the +Aka-Kede on page 200 and that from the Akar-Bale tribe on pages +200–201, and also the legends on pages 207, 208. + +[217] In a paper in Folk-lore, vol. xx, 1909, I put forward the +hypothesis that probably at one time all the tribes of the Andamans +regarded Biliku (Puluga) as female, and Tarai (Daria) as male. I am +still inclined to think that there is some evidence for this, but a +discussion of what the Andamanese beliefs may have been in the past is +entirely outside the scope of this chapter and is therefore omitted. + +[218] The stem be seems to be connected with the idea of cutting. + +[219] In dealing with the account given by Mr Man of the Andaman +mythology it is necessary to remember that he was undoubtedly +influenced by a very strong desire to show that the beliefs of the +Andamanese about Puluga were really fundamentally the same as the +beliefs of the Christian about his God. It may be taken as certain that +he did not consciously allow this wish to affect his record of the +Andaman beliefs, but it is very improbable that it did not +unconsciously have a great deal of influence both on Mr Man and on his +informants. + +[220] To complete the discussion of this part of the subject it would +be necessary to deal with many points in the legends of the real +meaning of which I do not feel satisfied. I have, for instance, given +no explanation of the position of Pe̱rǰido in the Biliku-Tarai myth, +although this is probably an important matter. Nor have I traced to its +source the connection of Biliku (with her net, and her hole, or cave, +in which she shuts herself up to sleep and from which she comes out to +bring rain and storm) with the spider. Besides Tomo, Biliku has yet +another competitor for the position of control over the fine weather of +the hot season, namely the snake, or-čubi (wara-ǰobo), which is +regarded as being in some way the guardian of honey and of fine +weather. There are legends that show the connection of this snake with +honey (page 227) and the same connection is shown in the honey-eating +ceremony (page 105). According to Mr Man, when the natives of the South +Andaman see a dark cloud approaching and they do not wish it to rain +they threaten Puluga that they will call up the wara-ǰobo to bite him. +The snake, like other snakes, is only to be seen during the hot weather +of the honey season. It may be remembered that it is from this snake +that the pattern used in decorating the body with white clay is named. + +[221] In the last chapter it was shown that the attribution of magical +force to such things as foods and human bones is simply the means by +which the social values of these things are represented and recognized. +Similarly here the magical powers of the ancestors are simply the +representation of their social value, i.e. of the social value of +tradition. + +[222] In Central Australia it is believed that if a boy who has not +been initiated eats large lizards he will develop an abnormal and +diseased craving for sexual intercourse. (Spencer and Gillen, Native +Tribes of Central Australia, p. 471.) A friend who has observed the +monitor lizard in Australia tells me that the animal fully deserves its +reputation. + +[223] Page 217. + +[224] Page 218. + +[225] Page 218. + +[226] See Introduction, p. 12. + +[227] The information here given as to the Semang is derived from two +works, Skeat and Blagden, Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula, vol. 1, +quoted as Skeat, and Rudolf Martin, Die Inlandstämme der Malayischen +Halbinsel, 1905, quoted as Martin. + +[228] The information about the Philippine Negritos is derived from +Reed, Negritos of Zambales, Manila, 1904, quoted as Reed, and A. B. +Meyer, Die Philippinen, II, Die Negritos, Dresden, 1893, quoted as +Meyer. + +[229] See p. 34. + +[230] See Census Report, 1901. + +[231] Supplement to the Andaman and Nicobar Gazette, January 2, 1904. + +[232] Skeat, p. 172. + +[233] Skeat, p. 174. + +[234] Skeat, p. 176, and plate. See also Annandale, Fasciculi +Malayensis, Anthropology, Part I, Plate IV. + +[235] Skeat, p. 174. + +[236] Skeat, p. 177. + +[237] Reed, Plate xxxviii. + +[238] Meyer, Plate x. + +[239] Skeat, p. 341. + +[240] Skeat, p. 270. + +[241] Skeat, p. 280. + +[242] Skeat, p. 205. + +[243] Skeat, p. 205. + +[244] Reed, p. 44. + +[245] Reed, p. 44. + +[246] Reed, p. 47. + +[247] Reed, p. 47. + +[248] Reed, p. 48. + +[249] For information about the two specimens at Cambridge I am +indebted to the kindness of Mr J. W. Layard. + +[250] According to Skeat the end with the longer point is the lower end +of the bow (Skeat, p. 273), but Martin (p. 785) describes a bow of this +type and states that the longer point is the upper end. + +[251] Meyer, pp. 13–17 and Plates VI–VIII. + +[252] Meyer, Plates VI and VIII. + +[253] Skeat, p. 274. + +[254] Lapicque, “Ethnographie des Iles Andaman,” Bulletin de la Société +d’Anthropologie de Paris, 1894, p. 370. + +[255] Skeat, p. 383. + +[256] Man, op. cit. p. 77. + +[257] Man, Journ. Anthr. Inst. XII, p. 367, note 4. + +[258] Man, op. cit. p. 397. + +[259] Supplement to the Andaman and Nicobar Gazette, January 2, 1904. + +[260] Published in Vol. ii of the journal Anthropos, 1907. + +[261] Although I had acquired some knowledge of phonetics before I went +to the Andamans, as a necessary part of the preliminary training of an +ethnologist, yet it was not really sufficient to enable me to deal in a +thoroughly scientific manner with the problems of Andamanese phonetics, +and my further studies of the subject give me reason to believe that my +phonetic analysis of the Andaman languages was not as thorough as it +might have been. + + + + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78356 *** |