Initial commit of ebook 78356 filesHEAD main

author: www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> 2026-04-04 07:00:18 -0700
committer: www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> 2026-04-04 07:00:18 -0700
commit: 441bdaf6053a4220fb631968311cc65bc0e635ea (patch)
tree: e3bc88fbf28f190cd93a626d5ae33f666a830dd0 /78356-h
84 files changed, 18646 insertions, 0 deletions
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78356 ***</div>
+<div class="front">
+<div class="div1 cover"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<div class="figure cover-imagewidth"><img src="images/new-cover.jpg" alt="Newly Designed Front Cover." width="480" height="720"></div><p>
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 frenchtitle"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
+<p class="first xd33e109">THE<br>
+ANDAMAN ISLANDERS
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 imprint"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
+<p class="first center">CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
+</p>
+<p class="center">C.&nbsp;F. CLAY, <span class="sc">Manager</span>
+</p>
+<p class="center">LONDON: FETTER LANE, E.C.<sub>4</sub>
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure logowidth"><img src="images/logo.png" alt="Logo of Cambridge University Press." width="82" height="99"></div><p>
+</p>
+<p class="center">NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO.
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top">BOMBAY </td>
+<td rowspan="3" class="rowspan rightbrace cell-top cell-bottom"><img src="images/rbrace3.png" alt="}" width="14" height="63"></td>
+<td rowspan="3" class="rowspan cell-right cell-top cell-bottom vam">MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="sc">Ltd.</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">CALCUTTA</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom">MADRAS</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p class="center">TORONTO: THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, <span class="sc">Ltd.</span>
+</p>
+<p class="center">TOKYO: MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA
+</p>
+<p class="center">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 frontispiece"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<div class="figure frontispiecewidth" id="frontispiece"><img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt="An Andaman Islander shooting fish with bow and arrow on the reefs at Port Blair" width="502" height="720"><div class="figAnnotation frontispiecewidth"><span class="figBottomLeft"><i>Frontispiece</i></span><span class="figTop">&nbsp;</span></div>
+<p class="figureHead">An Andaman Islander shooting fish with bow and arrow on the reefs at Port Blair</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 titlepage"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<div class="figure titlepage-imagewidth"><img src="images/titlepage.png" alt="Original Title Page." width="431" height="720"></div><p>
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="titlePage">
+<div class="docTitle">
+<h1 class="mainTitle">THE<br>
+ANDAMAN ISLANDERS</h1>
+<div class="subTitle">A STUDY IN SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY<br>
+(ANTHONY WILKIN STUDENTSHIP RESEARCH, 1906)</div>
+</div>
+<div class="byline">BY<br>
+<span class="docAuthor">A.&nbsp;R. BROWN, M.A.</span><br>
+FORMERLY FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE</div>
+<div class="docImprint">CAMBRIDGE<br>
+AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS<br>
+<span class="docDate">1922</span></div>
+</div>
+<p></p>
+<div class="div1 dedication"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
+<p class="first center">TO<br>
+<span class="sc large">Dr</span> A.&nbsp;C. HADDON, F.R.S.<br>
+AND<br>
+<span class="sc large">Dr</span> W.&nbsp;H.&nbsp;R. RIVERS, F.R.S.
+</p>
+<p class="center">TO WHOSE INSTRUCTION AND KIND ENCOURAGEMENT IS DUE WHATEVER VALUE IT MAY POSSESS,
+THIS WORK OF APPRENTICESHIP IS DEDICATED.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb.vii">[<a href="#pb.vii">vii</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 preface"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="main">PREFACE</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>The book deals with the social institutions of the tribes of the Great Andaman. These
+had previously been studied by Mr E.&nbsp;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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb.viii">[<a href="#pb.viii">viii</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> tribe who spoke English well and was of considerable intelligence. He is shown in
+the photographs of Plates <a href="#plate05"><span class="asc">V</span></a> and <a href="#plate13"><span class="asc">XIII</span></a>. With his help I was able to do some work with the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> and <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The languages of the Andaman Islands are chiefly of interest as affording material
+for the study of comparative grammar and <span class="pageNum" id="pb.ix">[<a href="#pb.ix">ix</a>]</span>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.&nbsp;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 <i>Anthropos</i>, of which, however, only the first had appeared when the outbreak of war interrupted
+them<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e249src" href="#xd33e249" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>. I cannot say when the publication of these notes will be resumed.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e259src" href="#xd33e259" title="Go to note 2.">2</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb.x">[<a href="#pb.x">x</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>To Dr Haddon and Dr Rivers I am obliged for reading the proofs and for many helpful
+suggestions.
+</p>
+<p class="signed">A.&nbsp;R. BROWN.
+</p>
+<p class="dateline"><span class="sc">University of Cape Town</span>,<br>
+<i>January 1922</i>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb.xi">[<a href="#pb.xi">xi</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e249">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e249src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> “Notes on the Languages of the Andaman Islands,” by A.&nbsp;R. Brown, <i>Anthropos</i>, Vol. <span class="asc">IX</span>, 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e249src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e259">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e259src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e259src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="toc" class="div1 contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="main">CONTENTS</h2>
+<table class="tocList">
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum xs">CHAP.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle">
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum xs">PAGE</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum"></td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc">Introduction</span>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">I.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch1" id="xd33e301"><span class="sc">The Social Organisation</span></a> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">22</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">II.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch2" id="xd33e311"><span class="sc">Ceremonial Customs</span></a> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">88</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">III.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch3" id="xd33e321"><span class="sc">Religious and Magical Beliefs</span></a> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">136</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">IV.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch4" id="xd33e331"><span class="sc">Myths and Legends</span></a> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">186</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">V.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch5" id="xd33e341"><span class="sc">The Interpretation of Andamanese Customs and Beliefs: Ceremonial</span></a> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">229</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">VI.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch6" id="xd33e351"><span class="sc">The Interpretation of Andamanese Customs and Beliefs: Myths and Legends</span></a> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">330</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum"></td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc">Appendix A. <a href="#appa" id="xd33e360">The Technical Culture of the Andaman Islanders</a></span> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">407</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum"></td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc">Appendix B. <a href="#appb" id="xd33e368">The Spelling of Andamanese Words</a></span> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">495</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum"></td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ix" id="xd33e375">Index</a></span> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">499</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb.xii">[<a href="#pb.xii">xii</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="main">LIST OF PLATES AND MAPS</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"><i>Frontispiece.</i> <a href="#frontispiece">An Andaman Islander shooting fish with bow and arrow on the reefs at Port Blair</a>
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.plates">
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left cell-top xs">PLATE </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right cell-top"></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">I. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate01">A young man of the North Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg">To face p.</span></i> 26</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">II. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate02">A young married woman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 27</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">III. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate03">A man of the North Andaman and his son. (The man’s height is 1438 mm., 4 feet 8 inches)</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 28</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">IV. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate04">A married woman of the Great Andaman wearing belts of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf and ornaments of <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> shell</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 29</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">V. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate05">A man of the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe with South Andaman bow and arrows, wearing belt and necklace of netting and
+<i lang="la">Dentalium</i> shell. (Height 1494 mm., 4 feet 9 inches)</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 30</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">VI. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate06">Portion of the village of Moi-lepto, <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> tribe. On the right is an unfinished mat of palm leaves for the roof of a new hut</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 32</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">VII. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate07">A hut in the village of Moi-lepto, showing the mode of construction</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 34</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">VIII. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate08">A village of the Middle Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 36</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">IX. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate09">Woman decorated with <i lang="gac">odu</i> clay</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 120</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">X. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate10">Woman decorated with <i lang="gac">odu</i> clay</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 121</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">XI. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate11">Three men and a young woman decorated with <i lang="gac">odu</i> clay</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 122</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">XII. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate12">A young man decorated with white clay in readiness for a dance</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 124</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">XIII. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate13">A man with a pattern of white clay on his face</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 125</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">XIV. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate14">A woman with her child</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 126</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">XV. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate15">A young married woman, showing pattern scarified on body and arms</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 127</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">XVI. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate16">A girl during the ceremony at puberty, decorated with strips of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 128</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">XVII. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate17">A woman wearing clay on her forehead as a sign of mourning</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 129</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">XVIII. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate18">A girl wearing her sister’s skull</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 132</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">XIX. </td>
+<td><a href="#plate19">The peace-making dance of the North Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 134
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left">Map 1. </td>
+<td><a href="#map1">South-eastern Asia, showing the present distribution of the Negrito Race</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 6</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left cell-bottom">Map 2. </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"><a href="#map2">The Andaman Islands, showing the distribution of tribes</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right cell-bottom"><i><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">To</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">face</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">p.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span></i> 11</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb.xiii">[<a href="#pb.xiii">xiii</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 last-child contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="main">LIST OF FIGURES IN THE TEXT</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.plates">
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="colspan xd33e390 cell-left cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right cell-top xs">PAGE
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="colspan xd33e390 cell-left xd33e695"><a href="#p034">Plan of Andamanese Village</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">34
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg">Fig.</span> 1. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig01">Section of Little Andaman bow, in the middle and near the end</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">420</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 2. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig02">Shoulder of Little Andaman bow</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">420</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 3. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig03">Bow-string of twisted fibre, Little Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">421</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 4. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig04">Diagram showing the method of making the loop in the end of the Little Andaman bow-string</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">421</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 5. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig05">Section of bow from North Sentinel Island</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">422</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 6. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig06">Section of Jarawa bow</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">422</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 7. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig07">Upper end of South Andaman bow</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">423</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 8. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig08">Section across the blade of a South Andaman bow</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">424</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 9. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig09">Loop of bow-string, South Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">425</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 10. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig10">Ornament on South Andaman bow</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">426</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 11. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig11">Section across the blade of a North Andaman bow</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">427</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 12. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig12">North Andaman bow seen from the front</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">429</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 13. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig13">North Andaman bow; <i>A</i>, in the half-strung or reversed position; <i>B</i>, in the fully strung position</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">429</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 14. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig14">Toy bow of the North Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">432</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 15. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig15">Section across the middle of four Semang bows</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">434</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 16. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig16">Fish-arrow of the Great Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">437</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 17. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig17">Head of pig-arrow, Great Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">437</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 18. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig18">Pig-arrow with detachable head, Great Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">437</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 19. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig19">Method of making the cord of the Great Andaman pig-arrow</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">437</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 20. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig20">Pig-arrow, Little Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">440</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 21. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig21">Head of Jarawa pig-arrow</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">440</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 22. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig22">Arrow with head of <i>Areca</i> wood, Great Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">440</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 23. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig23">Harpoon, Great Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">440</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 24. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig24">Turtle net, South Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">442</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 25. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig25">Knot used in making the North Andaman turtle net</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">443</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 26. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig26">North Andaman fish-gig</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">444</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 27. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig27">Boar’s tusk, used as a spokeshave</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">448</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 28. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig28">Adze and knife</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">449</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 29. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig29">Method of making bamboo mat, Little Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">456</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 30. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig30">Diagram showing the technique used in making mats of thatch</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">457</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 31. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig31">Diagram showing the technique used in Great Andaman mats</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">457</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 32 <i>a</i>, </td>
+<td>32 <i>b</i>. <a href="#fig32a">Pot, tied up for carrying, North Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">459, 460<span class="pageNum" id="pb.xiv">[<a href="#pb.xiv">xiv</a>]</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 33. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig33">Basket for carrying pot, South Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">461</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 34. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig34">Portion of basket of Little Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">462</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 35. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig35">Portion of basket of South Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">464</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 36. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig36">Pig’s skull with basket-work, Jarawa</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">466</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 37. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig37">Diagram showing netting needle, and method of netting</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">471</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 38. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig38">Shape of North Andaman pot</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">473</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 39. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig39">Shape of South Andaman pot</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">474</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 40. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig40">Necklaces of mangrove seed-tops, Great Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">480</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 41. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig41">Diagram showing method of making ornamental cord, Little Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">481</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 42. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig42">Designs incised or painted on belts of Pandanus leaf, Great Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">484</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 43. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig43">Designs on bamboo necklace from the North Andaman</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">485</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 44. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig44">Transverse section of canoe and outrigger</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">487</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 45. </td>
+<td><a href="#fig45">Showing manner in which the boom is connected with the float</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right">488</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-left cell-bottom"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Fig.</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 46. </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"><a href="#fig46">Paddle</a> </td>
+<td class="xd33e390 cell-right cell-bottom">489</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb1">[<a href="#pb1">1</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="body">
+<div id="intro" class="div1 introduction"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="main">INTRODUCTION</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb2">[<a href="#pb2">2</a>]</span>Islands and finds its continuation in the islands off the west coast of Sumatra<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1233src" href="#xd33e1233" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1238src" href="#xd33e1238" title="Go to note 2.">2</a>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb3">[<a href="#pb3">3</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="la">Sus andamanensis</i>, Blyth) and a civet-cat (<i lang="la">Paradoxurus tytlerii</i>, 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 (<i lang="la">Varanus salvator</i>).
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb4">[<a href="#pb4">4</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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°.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The average weather can be shown most conveniently by means of a calendar.
+</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="first">January. Cool; little or no rain; wind N.N.E.; nights sometimes foggy.
+</p>
+<p>February. Cool; little or no rain; wind N.N.E.; very clear; light airs.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>April. Very hot; little or no rain; wind variable, off-shore at night and on-shore
+by day; calm and hazy.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.4">
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="colspan cell-left cell-top">June. </td>
+<td class="cell-top">Fairly cool; </td>
+<td class="cell-top">heavy rains; </td>
+<td class="cell-top">wind W.S.W., </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">squally.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">July. </td>
+<td rowspan="3" class="rowspan rightbrace cell-bottom"><img src="images/rbrace3.png" alt="}" width="14" height="63"></td>
+<td rowspan="3" class="rowspan cell-bottom center vam">Do. </td>
+<td rowspan="3" class="rowspan cell-bottom center vam">do. </td>
+<td rowspan="3" class="rowspan cell-bottom center vam">do. </td>
+<td rowspan="3" class="rowspan cell-right cell-bottom center vam">do.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">August.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom">September.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>October. Variable wind and weather; generally some calm weather; waterspouts may occur.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb5">[<a href="#pb5">5</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>December. Fairly cool; not much rain; wind N.N.E.</p>
+</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1314src" href="#xd33e1314" title="Go to note 3.">3</a>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1330src" href="#xd33e1330" title="Go to note 4.">4</a>. It is hardly possible to imagine them coming from the Malay Peninsula across the
+wide <span class="pageNum" id="pb6">[<a href="#pb6">6</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure map1width" id="map1"><img src="images/map1.png" alt="Map I" width="720" height="524"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Map I</span></p>
+<p class="first">South-eastern Asia, showing the present distribution of the Negrito Race</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1343src" href="#xd33e1343" title="Go to note 5.">5</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb7">[<a href="#pb7">7</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>The earliest authentic reference to the Andaman Islands seems to be that of two Arab
+travellers dating from <span class="asc">A.D.</span> 871. In the eighteenth century the Abbé Renaudot translated the account of these
+travels. Of the Andamans we read, “<span lang="fr">Au <span class="corr" id="xd33e1358" title="Source: dela">de-là</span> 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 <span class="corr" id="xd33e1361" title="Source: vaissaux">vaisseaux</span> 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 <span id="xd33e1364">à</span> bord. Ils en attrapent souvent quelques-uns, mais la pluspart se sauvent<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1367src" href="#xd33e1367" title="Go to note 6.">6</a>.</span>”
+</p>
+<p>It would seem that the Chinese and Japanese knew the islands in the first millenium
+<span class="asc">A.D.</span>, and referred to them by the names Yeng-t’o-mang and Andaban respectively<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1384src" href="#xd33e1384" title="Go to note 7.">7</a>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1387src" href="#xd33e1387" title="Go to note 8.">8</a>.” Some of Marco Polo’s statements about the Andamans, as that the natives <span class="pageNum" id="pb8">[<a href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1397src" href="#xd33e1397" title="Go to note 9.">9</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb9">[<a href="#pb9">9</a>]</span>that such visitors ever succeeded in establishing friendly relations with the islanders.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1413src" href="#xd33e1413" title="Go to note 10.">10</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb10">[<a href="#pb10">10</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <i>Briton</i> and the <i>Runnymede</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> 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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> of the interior of the South Andaman. These <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>, since about 1870, have made repeated attacks on isolated parties of convicts and
+forest <span class="pageNum" id="pb11">[<a href="#pb11">11</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> are as hostile as ever.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>. The Little Andaman Group includes all the inhabitants of the Little Andaman, those
+of the North Sentinel Island and the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> of the South Andaman.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> and the inhabitants of the Little Andaman have a technical culture of their own that
+is markedly different from that of the other division.
+</p>
+<div class="figure map2width" id="map2"><img src="images/map2.png" alt="Map II" width="407" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Map II</span></p>
+<p class="first">The Andaman Islands, showing the distribution of tribes</p>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb12">[<a href="#pb12">12</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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:—<i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-Kede</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i>, <i lang="gac">O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i</i>, <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i>, <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i>, and <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>. In each case the name is given in the form in which it is used by the tribe itself.
+Thus the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> speak of the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> as <i lang="gac">Aka-Boǰig-yab</i>, and refer to the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> as <i lang="gac">Aka-Bala-wa</i>, and there are similar variants of other tribal names.
+</p>
+<p>The natives of the Little Andaman refer to themselves as <i lang="gac">Önge</i> (men). It is probable that the so-called <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> of the South Andaman have the same word. In a vocabulary obtained by Colebrooke in
+1790 from a <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> near Port Blair, the word <i>Mincopie</i> is given as meaning a native of the Andaman Islands. This would seem to be simply
+the same phrase as the Little Andaman <i lang="gac">M’önge-bi</i> = I am <i lang="gac">Önge</i>, or I am a “man.” The word <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> is apparently derived from the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> 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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Önge</i> being reserved for the natives of the Little Andaman. It must be remembered, however,
+that the so-called <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> probably call themselves <i lang="gac">Önge</i>, while the <i lang="gac">Önge</i> of the Little Andaman are called <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> by the natives of the friendly tribes of the Great Andaman. The name <i>Mincopie</i> was at one time common in ethnological literature as a term for the Andaman Islanders.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb13">[<a href="#pb13">13</a>]</span>the natives of the Little Andaman, but they are of sufficient importance to make it
+necessary to distinguish them from one another.
+</p>
+<p>The different divisions of the Andamanese may for convenience be set out in the form
+of a table.
+</p>
+<ul>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber">I.</span> <span class="sc">Great Andaman Group.</span>
+<ul>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber"><i>A.</i></span> Northern Group, including the tribes:—
+<ul>
+<li><i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>,
+</li>
+<li><i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i>,
+</li>
+<li><i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i>,
+</li>
+<li><i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>.
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber"><i>B.</i></span> Southern Group, including the tribes:—
+<ul>
+<li><i lang="gac">Aka-Kede</i>,
+</li>
+<li><i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i>,
+</li>
+<li><i lang="gac">O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i</i><span id="xd33e1622">,</span>
+</li>
+<li><i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i>,
+</li>
+<li><i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i>,
+</li>
+<li><i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>.
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber">II.</span> <span class="sc">Little Andaman Group.</span>
+<ul>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber"><i>A.</i></span> The inhabitants of the Little Andaman (<i lang="gac">Önge</i>).
+</li>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber"><i>B.</i></span> The <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e1658">J̌a̤rawa</span></i> of the South Andaman.
+</li>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber"><i>C.</i></span> The inhabitants of the North Sentinel Island.
+</li>
+</ul>
+</li>
+</ul><p>
+</p>
+<p>The distribution of these different groups as it was in 1858 is shown on the map.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> who are allied by language and technical culture to the natives of the Little Andaman.
+There can be no doubt that the <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e1673">J̌a̤rawa</span></i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb14">[<a href="#pb14">14</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e1681">J̌a̤rawa</span></i>. 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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> have lived in a state of constant warfare with their neighbours, and this hostility
+has lasted down to the present day.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> were to be found in the neighbourhood of Port Blair. Lieutenant <span class="pageNum" id="pb15">[<a href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1694src" href="#xd33e1694" title="Go to note 11.">11</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The total area of the Andamans is estimated to be about 2500 square miles. This area
+is divided as follows:—
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.15">
+<thead>
+<tr class="unit">
+<td class="cell-head-left cell-head-top cell-head-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-head-right cell-head-top cell-head-bottom xd33e1708">Sq. miles.</td>
+</tr>
+</thead>
+<tbody>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">North Andaman, being the territory of the four tribes Aka-Cari, Aka-Kora, Aka-Bo,
+and Aka-Jeru
+</td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">540</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Middle Andaman and Baratang, occupied by four tribes, Aka-Kede, Aka-Kol, Oko-Juwoi
+and A-Pucikwar
+</td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">790</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">The Archipelago, occupied by the Akar-Bale tribe
+</td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">140</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">The South Andaman, occupied by the Aka-Bea and the Jarawa
+</td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">630</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">North Sentinel Island
+</td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">30</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Little Andaman
+</td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">370</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="sum xd33e1704 cell-right cell-bottom"><span class="sum">2500</span></td>
+</tr>
+</tbody>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>It is not possible to give accurately the area occupied by each tribe, as the boundaries
+are difficult to discover. The <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> is in an exceptional position, as there was no definite boundary between them and
+the <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e1752">J̌a̤rawa</span></i>. The two parties of natives lived in the same territory at enmity with each other.
+It would seem that the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> kept on the whole more to the coast, while the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> lived in the interior.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb16">[<a href="#pb16">16</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Leaving aside the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>, the largest of the Great Andaman tribes, as regards area of territory, was the <i lang="gac">Aka-Kede</i>, which possessed over 300 square miles. After this tribe in order of size come the
+<i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i> tribes, while the smaller ones are the <i lang="gac">O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i>, <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>, the last being perhaps the smallest of all.
+</p>
+<p>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:—
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.15">
+<thead>
+<tr class="label">
+<td rowspan="2" class="rowspan xd33e1805 cell-head-left cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Name of Tribe </td>
+<td colspan="2" class="colspan xd33e1805 xd33e1704 cell-head-top">Adults </td>
+<td colspan="2" class="colspan xd33e1805 xd33e1704 cell-head-top">Children </td>
+<td rowspan="2" class="rowspan xd33e1805 xd33e1704 cell-head-right cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Total</td>
+</tr>
+<tr class="label">
+<td class="xd33e1805 xd33e1704 cell-head-bottom">Males </td>
+<td class="xd33e1805 xd33e1704 cell-head-bottom">Females </td>
+<td class="xd33e1805 xd33e1704 cell-head-bottom">Males </td>
+<td class="xd33e1805 xd33e1704 cell-head-bottom">Females
+</td>
+</tr>
+</thead>
+<tbody>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Aka-Cari </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 16 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 15 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 6 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 2 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 39</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Aka-Kora </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 31 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 32 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 14 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 19 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 96</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Aka-Bo </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 15 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 16 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 7 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 10 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 48</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Aka-Jeru </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 98 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 80 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 26 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 14 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 218</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Aka-Kede </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 24 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 30 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 3 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 2 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 59</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Aka-Kol </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 6 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 2 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 3 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 11</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Oko-Juwoi </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 21 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 19 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 7 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 1 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 48</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">A-Pucikwar </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 31 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 14 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 2 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 3 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 50</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Akar-Bale </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 5 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 10 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 3 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 1 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 19</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Aka-Bea </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 14 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 16 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 3 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 4 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 37
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"> Total </td>
+<td class="sum xd33e1704 cell-bottom"><span class="sum"> 261 </span></td>
+<td class="sum xd33e1704 cell-bottom"><span class="sum"> 234 </span></td>
+<td class="sum xd33e1704 cell-bottom"><span class="sum"> 74 </span></td>
+<td class="sum xd33e1704 cell-bottom"><span class="sum"> 56 </span></td>
+<td class="sum xd33e1704 cell-right cell-bottom"><span class="sum"> 625</span></td>
+</tr>
+</tbody>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i> tribes, and members of these tribes have fallen into the habit of describing themselves
+to Europeans as either <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> or <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>. My own opinion is that the numbers given for the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> tribe are too large, while those of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i>, and perhaps also the <i lang="gac">Aka-Kede</i>, are too small.
+</p>
+<p>For the census of 1901 an attempt was made to estimate the numbers of the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> and the natives of the Little Andaman, any attempt at enumeration being impossible.
+The estimate given was as follows:—
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb17">[<a href="#pb17">17</a>]</span>
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top">Little Andaman </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right cell-top"> 672</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">South Andaman Jarawa </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 117</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Rutland Island Jarawa </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 351</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">North Sentinel Island </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right"> 117
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"> Total </td>
+<td class="sum xd33e1704 cell-right cell-bottom"><span class="sum">1257</span></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> are certainly very much too high. In 1907 I spent some weeks on Rutland Island trying
+to get into touch with the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> 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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> have been cut off from the other <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> by the spread of the convict Settlement since about 1885. The majority of the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> now inhabit the interior and western coast of the South Andaman north of Port Blair.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>). 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2053src" href="#xd33e2053" title="Go to note 12.">12</a> has <span class="pageNum" id="pb18">[<a href="#pb18">18</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.&nbsp;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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2064src" href="#xd33e2064" title="Go to note 13.">13</a>. An estimate for the proportion of the different groups is as follows:—
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="small">
+<thead>
+<tr class="label center">
+<td class="xd33e2071 cell-head-left cell-head-top cell-head-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="xd33e2071 xd33e1704 cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Estimated former population.
+</td>
+<td class="xd33e2071 xd33e1704 cell-head-right cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Density per square mile.
+</td>
+</tr>
+</thead>
+<tbody>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">North Andaman (four tribes) </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704">1500 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">2·75</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Middle Andaman with Baratang and Ritchie’s Archipelago </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704">2250 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">2·5</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">South Andaman (Aka-Bea and Jarawa) </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704">1200 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">2·0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Little Andaman and North Sentinel </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704"> 700 </td>
+<td class="xd33e1704 cell-right">1·75
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"> Total </td>
+<td class="sum xd33e1704 cell-bottom"><span class="sum">5650 </span></td>
+<td class="sum xd33e1704 cell-right cell-bottom"><span class="sum">2·25</span></td>
+</tr>
+</tbody>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb19">[<a href="#pb19">19</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> and <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb20">[<a href="#pb20">20</a>]</span>are employed in collecting trepang (<span lang="fr">bêche de mer</span>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.&nbsp;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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> 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 <i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i> of the year 1882 (Volume <span class="asc">XII</span>), and were reprinted in the form of a book <i>On the Aboriginal Inhabitants of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb21">[<a href="#pb21">21</a>]</span>Andaman Islands</i>. 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 <i>Journal of the Anthropological Institute</i>, Volume <span class="asc">XII</span>.
+</p>
+<p>Another writer on the Andamanese is Mr M.&nbsp;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
+<i>Manual of the Andamanese Languages</i>, London, 1887, is full of errors and entirely unreliable. A later work, entitled
+<i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes</i>, 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 <i>A History of Our Relations with the Andamanese</i> (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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="asc">III</span> of the <i>Census of India</i>, 1901, here referred to as “Census Report” 1901.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb22">[<a href="#pb22">22</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1233">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1233src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1233src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1238">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1238src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> 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°.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1238src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1314">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1314src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> 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,” <i>Journ. Asiatic Soc. of Bengal</i>, Vol. <span class="asc">LX</span>, Part <span class="asc">II</span>, 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,” <i>Proc. National Museum, U.S.A.</i> Vol. <span class="asc">XXIV</span>).&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1314src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1330">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1330src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1330src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1343">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1343src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> On the accompanying map of south-eastern Asia the regions now occupied by the Negritos
+are shown by the shading.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1343src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1367">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1367src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">6</a></span> <i lang="fr">Anciennes Relations des Indes et de la Chine</i>; <span lang="fr">De Deux Voyageurs Mahometans, qui y allerent dans le neuvième siècle; Traduites d’Arabe
+(par M. l’Abbé Renaudot). Paris</span>, <span class="asc">MDCCXVIII</span>, pp. 5 and 6.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1367src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1384">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1384src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">7</a></span> Takakasu’s Edition of I-tsing, pp. xxviii seq.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1384src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1387">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1387src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">8</a></span> <i>The Travels of Marco Polo</i>, Edited by John Masefield, <i>Everyman’s Library</i>, 1908, p. 347.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1387src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1397">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1397src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">9</a></span> Extracts of Master Caesar Frederike: his Eighteene Yeeres’ Indian Observations, <i>Purchas: his Pilgrimes</i>, London, 1625; Vol. <span class="asc">II</span>, 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1397src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1413">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1413src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">10</a></span> The account is that of a visit to the Andamans in 1771 by John Ritchie, published
+in the <i>Indian Antiquary</i>, Vol. <span class="asc">XXX</span>, 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.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1413src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1694">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1694src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">11</a></span> In 1906 some Little Andaman visitors to Rutland Island captured a <i>Jarawa</i> of that part. They told me that though he spoke differently from them, they could
+understand him fairly well.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1694src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2053">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2053src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">12</a></span> Portman, M. V., <i>A History of Our Relations with the Andamanese</i>, Calcutta, 1899.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2053src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2064">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2064src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">13</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2064src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e301">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h2 class="main">THE SOCIAL ORGANISATION</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb23">[<a href="#pb23">23</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The natives of the Great Andaman (leaving aside the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">aka-</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> language the stem <i lang="gac">poŋ</i> means “a hole of any kind,” and <i lang="gac">aka-poŋ</i> means “the mouth,” there being no other word for that part of the body. In the same
+language the stem <i lang="gac">-ar-</i> meaning “to talk” can only be used <span class="pageNum" id="pb24">[<a href="#pb24">24</a>]</span>with the prefix <i lang="gac">aka-</i>, as <i lang="gac">ak’-ar-ka</i>, “he says.” The prefix which is characteristic of the tribal names, indicates, therefore,
+that these are really the names of languages.
+</p>
+<p>The meanings or derivations of some of the tribal names have not been ascertained
+with certainty. The name <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> is derived from the word <i lang="gac">čari</i> meaning “salt water,” and therefore means “the salt-water language.” Similarly the
+name <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e2222">Aka-J̌eru</span></i> is derived from <i lang="gac">ǰeru</i>, a species of Sterculia from which canoes are made. In the Northern languages the
+word <i lang="gac">ot-bo</i> means “the back” of anything, and <i lang="gac">oŋ-ko̱ra</i> means “the hand.” It is possible that the names <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i> are derived from these stems (the <i lang="gac">ot-</i> and the <i lang="gac">oŋ-</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> is derived from a word meaning “the other side” of a creek or strait, thus referring
+to their position in the Archipelago. The name <i lang="gac">A-Pučik-war</i> (of which the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> equivalent is <i lang="gac">Aka-Boǰig-yab</i>) means “those who speak our own language,” from a stem <i lang="gac">pučik</i> (<i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>, <i lang="gac">boǰig</i>) which means “belonging to ourselves” as opposed to strangers of the same race. Mr
+Portman<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2270src" href="#xd33e2270" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> gives the following meanings of the other tribal names of the South and Middle Andaman,
+but the derivations are somewhat doubtful.
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top"><i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">Fresh water.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">They cut patterns on their bows.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">Bitter or salt taste.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> is given as <i lang="gac">Aka-Chariar</i>; the stem <i lang="gac">-ar-</i> means “to talk” and is not an essential part of the tribal name; <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari-ar-bom</i> means “he talks the <i lang="gac">Čari</i> language.” The name <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i> is given as <i lang="gac">Aka-Tabo</i>; <i lang="gac">t’a-Bo</i> means “I (am) <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i>,” just as <i lang="gac">t’a-J̌eru</i> means “I (am) <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e2332">Aka-J̌eru</span></i>,” the prefix <i lang="gac">aka-</i> being contracted to <i lang="gac">a-</i> after the personal pronoun <i lang="gac">t’</i> = I or my.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb25">[<a href="#pb25">25</a>]</span>two neighbouring languages. A man of the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> tribe could understand without any great difficulty a man speaking <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i>. On the other hand many of the languages included two or even more distinct dialects.
+In the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> tribe there were two dialects, one in the southern half of the Archipelago, which
+was allied to <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>, and the other in the northern half, showing affinities with <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i>. Even in such a small tribe as the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> it would seem that there were differences of dialect. Thus, even from the point of
+view of language, the tribe was not entirely homogeneous.
+</p>
+<p>Leaving aside the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Kede</i>, with over 300 square miles, while the smallest was probably the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>, with less than 100 square miles. Save in the case of the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> tribe was in an abnormal position as there was no recognized boundary between them
+and the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>. Together, these two divisions of the Andamanese occupied an area of about 600 square
+miles. The <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> seem to have kept more to the coast while the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> occupied the interior of the South Andaman and Rutland Island.
+</p>
+<p>If the estimate previously given<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2398src" href="#xd33e2398" title="Go to note 2.">2</a> of the former population of the islands be correct, the nine tribes (leaving aside
+the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>) 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
+<i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>) number about 200, of whom not more than 30 are children. Mr Man estimated the numbers
+of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> tribe (called by him <i lang="gac">Boǰig-ŋiǰi-da</i>) in 1882 at about 400, and supposes them to have numbered about 1000 in 1858. In
+1901 that tribe consisted of only 37 persons.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb26">[<a href="#pb26">26</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Besides the division into tribes, and independent of it, the Andamanese recognize
+another division into coast-dwellers and forest-dwellers. In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> language the coast-dwellers are called <i lang="gac">Ar-yoto</i>, while the forest-dwellers are called <i lang="gac">Erem-taga</i>. The difference between them is due solely to the difference of their food supply.
+The <i lang="gac">Ar-yoto</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Erem-taga</i> 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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate01width" id="plate01"><img src="images/plate01.jpg" alt="Plate I" width="440" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate I</span></p>
+<p class="first">A young man of the North Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>Some tribes consist only of coast-dwellers, such as the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>, the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> and perhaps the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i>. On the other hand the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i>, 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
+<i lang="gac">O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i</i>. The <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i>, the <i lang="gac">Aka-Kede</i>, the <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e2467">Aka-J̌eru</span></i> and perhaps also the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i> tribes contained both coast-dwellers and forest-dwellers.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb27">[<a href="#pb27">27</a>]</span>groups were at peace<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2477src" href="#xd33e2477" title="Go to note 3.">3</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate02width" id="plate02"><img src="images/plate02.jpg" alt="Plate II" width="467" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate II</span></p>
+<p class="first">A young married woman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2488src" href="#xd33e2488" title="Go to note 4.">4</a>.” 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2493src" href="#xd33e2493" title="Go to note 5.">5</a>.” 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb28">[<a href="#pb28">28</a>]</span>consist of several huts, which in all are rarely inhabited by more than from fifty
+to eighty persons<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2499src" href="#xd33e2499" title="Go to note 6.">6</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate03width" id="plate03"><img src="images/plate03.jpg" alt="Plate III" width="461" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate III</span></p>
+<p class="first">A man of the North Andaman and his son. (The man’s height is 1438 mm., 4 feet 8 inches)</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>Mr M.&nbsp;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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> were divided into seven septs, the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> into four, the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> into two, while the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> and <i lang="gac">O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i</i> had no real subdivisions<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2532src" href="#xd33e2532" title="Go to note 7.">7</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> tribe, those occupying the island of <i lang="gac">Teb-ǰuru</i> were spoken of as <i lang="gac">Teb-ǰuru-wa</i>, the word <i lang="gac">wa</i> meaning “people,” and the inhabitants of the east coast of Havelock Island were similarly
+denoted as <i lang="gac">Puluga-l’ar-mugu-wa</i> from the name of the district that they occupied. In the tribes of the North Andaman
+the word equivalent to <i lang="gac">wa</i> of the South is <i lang="gac">koloko</i>. Some of the local groups of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i> tribe were distinguished as <i lang="gac">Teraut buliu koloko</i>, <i lang="gac">Kelera buliu koloko</i>, <i lang="gac">Teradikili buliu koloko</i> etc., from the names of the creeks (<i lang="gac">buliu</i>) that they occupied. In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> tribe the local group occupying the island of <i lang="gac">To̱nmuket</i> and the <span class="pageNum" id="pb29">[<a href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>adjoining mainland were called <i lang="gac">Taroto̱lo koloko</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Taroto̱lo koloko</i> might say that he belonged to <i lang="gac">Laropuli</i>, this being one of the chief camps of that country. A man of the <i lang="gac">Teraut buliu koloko</i> might similarly say that he belonged to the village of <i lang="gac">Čaičue</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate04width" id="plate04"><img src="images/plate04.jpg" alt="Plate IV" width="469" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate IV</span></p>
+<p class="first">A married woman of the Great Andaman wearing belts of <i><b>Pandanus</b></i> leaf and ornaments of <i><b>Dentalium</b></i> shell</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb30">[<a href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate05width" id="plate05"><img src="images/plate05.jpg" alt="Plate V" width="505" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate V</span></p>
+<p class="first">A man of the <i><b>Akar-Bale</b></i> tribe with South Andaman bow and arrows, wearing belt and necklace of netting and
+<i><b>Dentalium</b></i> shell. (Height 1494 mm., 4 feet 9 inches)</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb31">[<a href="#pb31">31</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.&nbsp;L. Lapicque, at a spot called <i lang="gac">Lekera-l’un-ta</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2650src" href="#xd33e2650" title="Go to note 8.">8</a>. 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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>Such communal huts, while still used in the Little Andaman <span class="pageNum" id="pb32">[<a href="#pb32">32</a>]</span>and by the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> and the natives of the Little Andaman<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2669src" href="#xd33e2669" title="Go to note 9.">9</a>. There is evidence, however, that even the coast-dwellers formerly erected such huts,
+for in the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> tribe there are several places with names such as <i lang="gac">Paruŋ Bud</i> and <i lang="gac">Golugma Bud</i>, which show that communal huts existed there at some time. The word <i lang="gac">bud</i> is used to denote a communal hut, as compared with a village, which is called <i lang="gac">baraiǰ</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate06width" id="plate06"><img src="images/plate06.jpg" alt="Plate VI" width="720" height="463"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate VI</span></p>
+<p class="first">Portion of the village of Moi-lepto, <i><b>Akar-Bale</b></i> tribe. On the right is an unfinished mat of palm leaves for the roof of a new hut</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#plate06">Plates <span class="asc">VI</span></a> and <a href="#plate12"><span class="asc">VII</span></a>.
+</p>
+<p>The village occupied a small clearing in the forest close to the sea-shore at a place
+called <i lang="gac">Mo̱i-lepto</i> in the country of the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Boroin wa</i> (Hill people).
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb33">[<a href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>a man and his wife with their children and dependants. One hut was occupied by an
+old widower and a bachelor.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#plate07">Plate <span class="asc">VII</span></a>. 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 <a href="#plate06">Plates <span class="asc">VI</span></a> and <a href="#plate07"><span class="asc">VII</span></a> two mats of palm-leaf are shown in the course of construction, lying on the ground.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Caves or rock shelters suitable for human occupation are <span class="pageNum" id="pb34">[<a href="#pb34">34</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate07width" id="plate07"><img src="images/plate07.jpg" alt="Plate VII" width="720" height="474"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate VII</span></p>
+<p class="first">A hut in the village of Moi-lepto, showing the mode of construction</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure p034width" id="p034"><img src="images/p034.png" alt="Plan of Andamanese Village" width="381" height="225"><p class="figureHead">Plan of Andamanese Village</p>
+<p class="first"></p>
+<ul>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber"><i>a.</i></span> Huts of married people.
+</li>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber"><i>b.</i></span> Bachelors’ hut.
+</li>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber"><i>c.</i></span> Public cooking place.
+</li>
+<li class="numberedItem"><span class="itemNumber"><i>d.</i></span> Dancing ground.</li>
+</ul><p></p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb35">[<a href="#pb35">35</a>]</span>unmarried women who are of marriageable age) and widows occupy a hut of their own
+similarly to the bachelors<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2789src" href="#xd33e2789" title="Go to note 10.">10</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Thus it may be seen that the arrangement of the camp shows <span class="pageNum" id="pb36">[<a href="#pb36">36</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate08width" id="plate08"><img src="images/plate08.jpg" alt="Plate VIII" width="720" height="484"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate VIII</span></p>
+<p class="first">A village of the Middle Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2811src" href="#xd33e2811" title="Go to note 11.">11</a>. 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb37">[<a href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>If the hunting party should come across a civet cat (<i lang="la">Paradoxurus</i>) or a monitor lizard they would endeavour to kill it<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2825src" href="#xd33e2825" title="Go to note 12.">12</a>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb38">[<a href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>combs of black honey are to be found<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2832src" href="#xd33e2832" title="Go to note 13.">13</a>, and these are generally consumed by the hunters on the spot.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb39">[<a href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>is to be seen but the dim light of the little fires burning in each hut or in each
+of the family quarters.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>At the end of the rainy season there comes a brief period of unsettled weather, called
+by the natives of the North Andaman <i lang="gac">Kimil</i>, and by those of the South, <i lang="gac">Gumul</i>. 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb40">[<a href="#pb40">40</a>]</span>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 <i lang="la">Artocarpus chaplasha</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Artocarpus</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb41">[<a href="#pb41">41</a>]</span>own bow, arrows, adze, etc., while the wife makes her baskets, nets and so on.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i lang="la">Artocarpus</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb42">[<a href="#pb42">42</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb43">[<a href="#pb43">43</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb44">[<a href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <i lang="gac">Mai</i> or <i lang="gac">Maia</i>, applied to men, with a meaning equivalent to “Sir,” and <i lang="gac">Mimi</i>, 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
+<i lang="gac">Bora</i> would address him either as <i lang="gac">Mai</i> (Sir), or as <i lang="gac">Maia Bora</i> (Sir Bora).
+</p>
+<p>In the tribes of the South Andaman there are exactly similar terms. In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> tribe <i lang="gac">Maia</i> or <i lang="gac">Maiola</i> is used in addressing men and <i lang="gac">Čana</i> or <i lang="gac">Čanola</i> in speaking to women. In <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> the equivalent terms are <i lang="gac">Da</i> and <i lang="gac">In</i>. Besides these terms there is in these tribes another, <i lang="gac">Mam</i>, <i lang="gac">Mama</i> or <i lang="gac">Mamola</i>, which may be used in speaking to either men or women, and which <span class="pageNum" id="pb45">[<a href="#pb45">45</a>]</span>implies a higher degree of respect than <i lang="gac">Maia</i> or <i lang="gac">Čana</i>. In these tribes also there is a special way of showing respect by adding the suffix
+<i lang="gac">-la</i> to the name of the person addressed, as <i lang="gac">Bia</i>, <i lang="gac">Biala</i>, <i lang="gac">Woičo</i>, <i lang="gac">Woičo-la</i>, etc.
+</p>
+<p>In the legends of the Andamanese these titles are nearly always prefixed to the names
+of the legendary ancestors, as <i lang="gac">Maia J̌utpu</i> and <i lang="gac">Mimi Biliku</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>, or <i lang="gac">Da Duku</i> and <i lang="gac">In Bain</i> in <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i>. The moon is similarly spoken of as Sir Moon (<i lang="gac">Maia Ogar</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>) and the sun as Lady Sun (<i lang="gac">Čana Bodo</i>).
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">er-kuro</i> = “big.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The above statement is not quite in agreement with what has been written by Mr Man
+on the same subject, and what he <span class="pageNum" id="pb46">[<a href="#pb46">46</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">maia igla</i>, and the elders, or sub-chiefs, i.e. those in authority over each community, consisting
+of from 20 to 50 individuals, <i lang="gac">maiola</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">aryoto</i> and <i lang="gac">eremtaga</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb47">[<a href="#pb47">47</a>]</span>drudgery incidental to their mode of life, all such acts being voluntarily performed
+for them by the young unmarried persons living under their headship<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3029src" href="#xd33e3029" title="Go to note 14.">14</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>raja</i>, 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 <i>raja</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb48">[<a href="#pb48">48</a>]</span>a good deal of influence in connection with quarrels either of individuals or of local
+groups.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru oko-ǰumu</i> (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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Amongst the anti-social actions of the first kind are murder, or wounding, theft and
+adultery, and wilful damage of the property of another.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb49">[<a href="#pb49">49</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>Such murders did, however, occasionally take place<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3065src" href="#xd33e3065" title="Go to note 15.">15</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <i lang="gac">Tarenǰek</i>, in the North Andaman, to denote such a man<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3077src" href="#xd33e3077" title="Go to note 16.">16</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb50">[<a href="#pb50">50</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb51">[<a href="#pb51">51</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3098src" href="#xd33e3098" title="Go to note 17.">17</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>The medicine-men (<i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb52">[<a href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb53">[<a href="#pb53">53</a>]</span>as the “classificatory system of relationship<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3121src" href="#xd33e3121" title="Go to note 18.">18</a>.” 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.
+</p>
+<p>To understand the Andamanese system it is necessary to examine the terms by which
+they denote the different kinds of relationship which are recognized<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3130src" href="#xd33e3130" title="Go to note 19.">19</a>. 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 <i lang="gac">Maia</i> (= Sir) and <i lang="gac">Mimi</i> (= 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>).
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb54">[<a href="#pb54">54</a>]</span></p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top"><i lang="gac">aka-mai</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">his father</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">aka-mimi</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his mother</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ot-tire</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his child</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ot-otoatue</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his older brother</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ot-otoatue-čip</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his older sister</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ot-arai-čulute</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his younger brother</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ot-arai-čulute-čip</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his younger sister</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ot-e-bui</i> or <i lang="gac">e-bui</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his wife (her husband)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">e-pota-čiu</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his father-in-law</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">e-pota-čip</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his mother-in-law</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">ot-otone</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">his son-in-law.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Aka-mai</i> and <i lang="gac">aka-mimi</i>. The words for “father” and “mother” are derived from the terms of address <i lang="gac">Maia</i> and <i lang="gac">Mimi</i> by the addition in each case of the prefix <i lang="gac">aka-</i>. By itself the term <i lang="gac">Maia</i> 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 <i lang="gac">aka-</i> changes the word, giving it the meaning “the father of somebody.” Thus <i lang="gac">Maia Bora</i> means “Mr Bora” or “Sir Bora,” if we may so translate it, but <i lang="gac">Bora aka-mai</i> means “Bora’s father,” and <i lang="gac">aka-mai Bora</i> means “his or her father Bora.” The <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> equivalent for “my father” is <i lang="gac">t’a-mai</i>, the <i lang="gac">t’</i> being the personal pronoun “my,” after which the prefix <i lang="gac">aka-</i> is contracted to <i lang="gac">a-</i>. Similarly “thy father” is <i lang="gac">ŋ’a-mai</i> and “their father” or “their fathers” is <i lang="gac">n’a-mai</i>. The word <i lang="gac">aka-mimi</i> is in every respect exactly parallel to <i lang="gac">aka-mai</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Ačiu ŋ’a-mai bi?</i> (Who your father is?), he will reply by giving the name of his own father.
+</p>
+<p>The stem <i lang="gac">maia</i> 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, <i lang="gac">Maia</i>. When I call a man <i lang="gac">Maia</i>, I do not imply that he is <i>my</i> father nor that he is related to me at all, but only that he is <i>a</i> father. On the other hand, the prefix <i lang="gac">aka-</i> added to the stem makes a possessive form, so that <i lang="gac">aka-mai</i> means “his father” and <i lang="gac">t’a-mai</i> means “my father.” The word <i lang="gac">mimi</i> <span class="pageNum" id="pb55">[<a href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>is exactly parallel. By itself, the stem simply shows that the person addressed is
+<i>a</i> mother, while <i lang="gac">aka-mimi</i> means “<i>his</i> mother.”
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ot-tire.</i> The word “child,” when there is no reference to the child of some particular person,
+is translated <i lang="gac">e-tire</i>, <i lang="gac">-tire</i> being the stem and <i lang="gac">e-</i> the prefix<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3353src" href="#xd33e3353" title="Go to note 20.">20</a>. With a change of prefix from <i lang="gac"><span class="corr" id="xd33e3381" title="Source: -e">e-</span></i> to <i lang="gac">ot-</i>, a possessive form is made, so that <i lang="gac">ot-tire</i> always means “his or her child,” with reference to some particular person understood.
+Thus <i lang="gac">Bora ot-tire</i> would mean “the child of Bora,” while <i lang="gac">Bora e-tire</i> or <i lang="gac">e-tire Bora</i> would mean “the child Bora.” The phrase <i lang="gac">t’ot-tire</i> (my child) is used by either a man or a woman to denote his or her child.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ot-otoatue</i> and <i lang="gac">ot-arai-čulute</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">ot-otoatue</i> 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 <i lang="gac">-čip</i> is added. An alternative word of exactly the same meaning is <i lang="gac">ot-areupu</i> (fem. <i lang="gac">ot-arep-čip</i>). The word <i lang="gac">ot-arai-čulute</i> is formed from the stem <i lang="gac">čulu</i> or <i lang="gac">čulutu</i> meaning “following” or “after,” which always takes the prefix <i lang="gac">arai-</i>. (This prefix conveys a reference to position in time or space.) The stem is found
+in such phrases as <i lang="gac">tio ŋ’arai-čulutu-bom</i>, “I will follow you” (literally <i lang="gac">tio</i> = I, <i lang="gac">ŋ’</i> = thou, <i lang="gac">čulutu</i> = after, and <i lang="gac">-bom</i>, verbal suffix), and <i lang="gac">tarai-čulik</i> “afterwards” (<i lang="gac">t-arai-čulu-ik</i>). The prefix <i lang="gac">ot-</i> <span class="pageNum" id="pb56">[<a href="#pb56">56</a>]</span>added in front of the usual prefix <i lang="gac">arai-</i> determines the particular use of the word as referring to human beings. Thus the
+word <i lang="gac">ot-arai-čulute</i> 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 <i lang="gac">-čip</i> may be added to denote a female. Alternative words of the same meaning are <i lang="gac">ot-ara-liču</i> and <i lang="gac">ot-ara-bela</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ot-e-bui.</i> The stem <i lang="gac">-bui</i> means “to marry,” as in <i lang="gac">n’ e-bui-om</i> = they are married. “My husband” or “my wife” is simply <i lang="gac">t’e-bui</i> or <i lang="gac">t’ot-e-bui</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">E-pota-čiu</i> and <i lang="gac">e-pota-čip</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ot-otone.</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top"><i lang="gac">T’a-mimi aka-mai</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">my mother’s father</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Ot-e-bui ot-arai-čulute</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">his wife’s younger brother</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Ŋ’ot-a-mai ot-arai-čulute</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">thy father’s younger brother</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">T’ot-otoatue ot-tire</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">my older brother’s child.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>These compound terms are not often used, however.
+</p>
+<p>The terms of relationship of the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> tribe may be taken as representative of the tribes of the South Andaman. The following
+list contains all the more important of them.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb57">[<a href="#pb57">57</a>]</span></p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top"><i lang="gac">da</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">father</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ab-atr</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">father</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">in</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">mother</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ar-bua</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">child</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ar-kodire</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">child (father speaking)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ab-atet</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">child (mother speaking)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">mama</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">grandparent</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ǰat</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">grandchild</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">en-toaka-ŋa</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">older brother or sister</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ar-dotot</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">younger brother or sister</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">otoni</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">son-in-law</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">oten</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">daughter-in-law</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ab-i-ŋa</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">consort (husband or wife)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">aka-yat</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">parent of child’s consort</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">aka-bua</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">consort’s younger brother or sister</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ep-taruo-ŋa</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">step relative</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ot-čat-ŋa</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">relative by adoption</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">aka-kuam</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">younger relative</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">ab-čuga</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">older relative (male)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">ab-čupal</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">older relative (female).</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Da</i> and <i lang="gac">in</i>. <i lang="gac">Da</i> 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 <i lang="gac">dege da</i>, <i lang="gac">dege</i> being the personal pronoun “my” as used before a word that has no prefix. The term
+<i lang="gac">In</i> is the common term of address used in speaking to women. A man or woman will refer
+to his or her own mother as <i lang="gac">deg’ in</i>. The use of these two terms as applied to parents is very similar to the use of <i lang="gac">aka-mai</i> and <i lang="gac">aka-mimi</i> in the North Andaman, with the difference that in <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> the stem <i lang="gac">da</i> or <i lang="gac">in</i> does not take a prefix to modify its meaning. While the use of the terms <i lang="gac">Da</i> and <i lang="gac">In</i> 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 <i lang="gac">dege da</i> would in general be understood as referring to the speaker’s own father.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ab-atr.</i> 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 <i lang="gac">deg’ in l’ab-atr</i> = 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb58">[<a href="#pb58">58</a>]</span>probably a feminine equivalent meaning “mother,” but it was not noted.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ar-bua</i>, <i lang="gac">ar-kodire</i> and <i lang="gac">ab-atet</i>. The <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> word for “infant” is <i lang="gac">ab-liga</i> or <i lang="gac">ab-dareka</i>. The latter word is the phonetic equivalent of the <i lang="gac">e-tire</i> of the Northern languages. A parent often speaks of his or her infant son as <i lang="gac">d’ab-bula</i>, and of his infant daughter as <i lang="gac">d’ab-pal</i>, <i lang="gac">ab-bula</i> and <i lang="gac">ab-pal</i> being the terms for “male” and “female<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3782src" href="#xd33e3782" title="Go to note 21.">21</a>.” The exact use of the term <i lang="gac">ar-bua</i> is difficult to determine. The stem <i lang="gac">-bua</i> may be used by itself without a prefix. <i lang="gac">Dege bua</i> (my child) would refer, I believe, only to the child of the speaker. On the other
+hand, a man would use the term <i lang="gac">d’ar-bua</i> 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 (<i lang="gac">ar-bua</i>) 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 <i lang="gac">ar-kodire</i> refers to the own child of a man, and <i lang="gac">ab-atet</i> similarly refers to the own child of a woman. The two words together are thus equivalent
+to the <i lang="gac">ot-tire</i> of the North Andaman, the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> distinguishing between the offspring of a man (<i lang="gac">ar-kodire</i>) and the offspring of a woman (<i lang="gac">ab-atet</i>).
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Mama.</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Da</i> and <i lang="gac">In</i>, and is thus used in addressing any man or woman who is considerably older than the
+speaker. With the personal pronoun, <i lang="gac">dege mama</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">J̌at.</i> The word was explained to me by the natives as meaning “grandchild.” It seems to
+be a sort of reciprocal of <i lang="gac">mama</i>, and is apparently applicable by any old man or woman to any child of the same generation
+as his or her own grandchildren.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb59">[<a href="#pb59">59</a>]</span></p>
+<p><i lang="gac">En-toaka-ŋa</i> and <i lang="gac">ar-dotot</i>. These two words are used in exactly the same way as the words <i lang="gac">ot-otoatue</i> and <i lang="gac">ot-arai-čulute</i> of the North Andaman. They are not properly terms of relationship, but may be equally
+used in referring to non-relatives. <i lang="gac">En-toaka-ŋa</i> means “he who was born before me,” and <i lang="gac">ar-dotot</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Otoni</i> and <i lang="gac">oten</i>. These are masculine and feminine forms of the same word, and are used to denote
+a daughter’s husband and a son’s wife. <i lang="gac">Otoni</i> is also applied to a younger sister’s husband, and <i lang="gac">oten</i> to a younger brother’s wife. The derivation of the words was not discovered.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Aka-yat.</i> 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 <i lang="gac">aka-yat</i> to my wife’s father or mother.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Aka-bua.</i> The word is derived from the stem <i lang="gac">bua</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ab-i-ŋa.</i> The word is translated “consort,” and means either husband or wife. It is derived
+from the verbal stem <i lang="gac">-i-</i> meaning “to marry” (<i lang="gac">on-i-re</i>), <i lang="gac">ab-</i> being the prefix, and <i lang="gac">-ŋa</i> the verbal suffix.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ep-taruo-ŋa.</i> The word is used to denote a step-child, or a younger step-brother or sister.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ot-čat-ŋa.</i> The word means “adopted.” “My adopted child” is simply expressed as <i lang="gac">d’ot-čat-ŋa</i>, while “my foster father” is <i lang="gac">dege da ot-čat-ŋa</i>. The stem is <i lang="gac">-čat-</i>, <i lang="gac">-ŋa</i> being the verbal suffix and <i lang="gac">ot-</i> the prefix.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Aka-kuam.</i> 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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb60">[<a href="#pb60">60</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ab-čuga</i> and <i lang="gac">ab-čupal</i>. These are the masculine and feminine forms of one word. Mr Portman<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3945src" href="#xd33e3945" title="Go to note 22.">22</a> gives them as meaning “married man” and “married woman.” I heard them used, however,
+with the personal pronoun. Thus a man applied the term <i lang="gac">ab-čuga</i> 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 <i lang="gac">aka-kuam</i>. A younger married man will refer to older married men and women as his <i lang="gac">ab-čuga</i> and <i lang="gac">ab-čupal</i>, while they will call him <i lang="gac">aka-kuam</i>.
+</p>
+<p>In his work on the Andamanese, Mr E.&nbsp;H. Man gives a long list of terms of relationship
+for the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> tribe<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3969src" href="#xd33e3969" title="Go to note 23.">23</a>. It will be of some interest to compare the terms there given with those of the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> tribe described above.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ab-maiola</i> (<i lang="gac">D’ab-mai-ola</i>). This is translated by Mr Man as “father.” In <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> the term Maia is the term of address corresponding to the <i lang="gac">Da</i> of <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> and to the <i lang="gac">Mai</i> of the North Andaman. The suffix <i lang="gac">-ola</i>, added to this and other terms of address serves to convey additional respect, as
+<i lang="gac">Maia</i>, <i lang="gac">Mai-ola</i>, <i lang="gac">Čana</i>, <i lang="gac">Čan-ola</i>, <i lang="gac">Mama</i>, <i lang="gac">Mam-ola</i>. Thus <i lang="gac">ab-mai-ola</i> corresponds to the <i lang="gac">aka-mai</i> of the Northern languages.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Dia Maia.</i> 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).
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Dia maiola.</i> My grandfather, my grandfather’s brother, my grandmother’s brother, my elder sister’s
+husband.
+</p>
+<p>It must be remembered that these terms are not properly terms of relationship at all.
+Any man who is older than the speaker is <i lang="gac">Maia</i> or <i lang="gac">Mai-ola</i> to him, the latter implying a slightly <span class="pageNum" id="pb61">[<a href="#pb61">61</a>]</span>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:—“<i lang="gac">Maia</i> 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 emphasises the relationship, as:
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">Dia maiola</i></span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">My Father</span></span>
+<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e4061src" href="#xd33e4061" title="Go to note 24.">24</a>.”
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ ab-čanola.</i> Given by Mr Man as meaning “my mother.” It is the feminine equivalent of <i lang="gac">d’ ab-mai-ola</i>, <i lang="gac">Čana</i> being the feminine of <i lang="gac">Maia</i>, and corresponding to the <i lang="gac">In</i> of <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> and the <i lang="gac">Mimi</i> of <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Dia čanola.</i> This is given as the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> 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 <i lang="gac">dia mai-ola</i>, while in its use it is the equivalent both of this term and of <i lang="gac">dia maia</i>. This serves to show that there is no real precise distinction between <i lang="gac">dia maia</i> and <i lang="gac">dia mai-ola</i>, such as Mr Man’s list would seem to imply. <i lang="gac">Dia čan-ola</i> is not, properly speaking, a term of relationship. Any married woman senior to the
+speaker is entitled to be addressed as <i lang="gac">Čana</i> or <i lang="gac">Čan-ola</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ ab-čabil.</i> Mr Man gives this as translating “my father, my step-father.” The feminine equivalent
+would seem to be <i lang="gac">d’ ab-čanola</i>, which is given for “my mother” and “my step-mother.” Mr Portman gives <i lang="gac">ab-čabil</i> and <i lang="gac">ab-čana</i> as the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> terms for “married man” and “married woman<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e4138src" href="#xd33e4138" title="Go to note 25.">25</a>.” The two words are the equivalents of the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> <i lang="gac">ab-čuga</i> and <i lang="gac">ab-čupal</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ ar-odi-ŋa.</i> This word is given by Mr Man as one of the equivalents for “my father.” It is parallel
+to the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> <span class="pageNum" id="pb62">[<a href="#pb62">62</a>]</span>term <i lang="gac">ab-atr</i>, and is strictly a term of physiological relationship, meaning “he who caused me
+to be conceived.”
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ab-eti-ŋa.</i> This is translated by Mr Man as “my mother.” It is the corresponding term to <i lang="gac">d’ar-odi-ŋa</i>, and refers to the physiological relationship.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ab-weǰi-ŋa</i> or <i lang="gac">d’ab-weǰeri-ŋa</i>. This also means “my mother,” and is only an alternative word for the above. The
+stems <i lang="gac">eti</i> and <i lang="gac">weǰi</i> or <i lang="gac">weǰeri</i> seem to be two stems meaning the same thing.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ar-odi-re</i> or <i lang="gac">d’ar-odi-yate</i>. Given by Mr Man as meaning “my son” (if over three years of age, father speaking).
+It is the equivalent of the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> <i lang="gac">ar-kodire</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ab-eti-re</i>, <i lang="gac">d’ab-eti-yate</i>, <i lang="gac">d’ab-weǰi-re</i>, <i lang="gac">d’ab-weǰi-yate</i>, <i lang="gac">d’ab-weǰeri-re</i>, <i lang="gac">d’ab-weǰeri-yate</i>. These are all given by Mr Man as translating “my son” (if over three years of age,
+mother speaking). They are equivalent to the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> <i lang="gac">ab-atet</i>.
+</p>
+<p>The above words seem to be derived from three stems, <i lang="gac">-odi-</i>, <i lang="gac">-eti-</i>, and <i lang="gac">-weǰi-</i> (or <i lang="gac">-weǰeri-</i>), the stems <i lang="gac">-eti-</i> and <i lang="gac">-weǰi-</i> having exactly the same meaning, and belonging, perhaps, to different dialects. The
+words are formed by the addition of the prefixes <i lang="gac">ar-</i> and <i lang="gac">ab-</i>, and the verbal suffixes <i lang="gac">-ŋa</i>, <i lang="gac">-re</i>, <i lang="gac">-yate</i>. Thus we have <i lang="gac">ar-odi-ŋa</i>, “father,” and <i lang="gac">ar-odi-re</i> or <i lang="gac">ar-odi-yate</i>, “son.” Similarly we have <i lang="gac">ab-eti-ŋa</i>, “mother,” and <i lang="gac">ab-eti-re</i> or <i lang="gac">ab-eti-yate</i>, “son” (mother speaking), while similar equivalents are made from the stem <i lang="gac">-weǰi-</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">-pail</i> (meaning “female”) is added, as <i lang="gac">d’ar-odi-re-pail</i>, <i lang="gac">d’ab-eti-re-pail</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Dia ota</i> and <i lang="gac">dia kata</i>. These are given by Mr Man as meaning respectively “my son” and “my daughter” (if
+under three years of age, either parent speaking). <i lang="gac">Ota</i> and <i lang="gac">kata</i> are the terms for the male and female genitals.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Dia ba.</i> 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 <i lang="gac">dege bua</i> in <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Dia ba-lola.</i> 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).
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb63">[<a href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>The same phrase with the addition of <i lang="gac">-pail</i>, meaning “female,” is given as equivalent to:—my granddaughter, my brother’s granddaughter,
+and my sister’s granddaughter (male or female speaking).
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ar-ba.</i> 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 <i lang="gac">-pail</i>, meaning “female,” it is applicable to the daughter of any of the above.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ad en-toba-re</i>, <i lang="gac">ad en-toba-ŋa</i>, <i lang="gac">ad en-toka-re</i>, <i lang="gac">ad en-toka-ŋa</i>. These terms are given by Mr Man as alternative equivalents for “my elder brother
+(male or female speaking).” The stem is <i lang="gac">-toba-</i> or <i lang="gac">-toka-</i>, with the prefix <i lang="gac">en-</i> and the verbal suffix <i lang="gac">-re</i> or <i lang="gac">-ŋa</i>. The <i lang="gac">ad</i> is a special form of the first personal pronoun, generally <i lang="gac">d’</i>. With the addition of <i lang="gac">-pail</i>, meaning “female,” the term is applicable to an elder sister. The word corresponds,
+both phonetically and in meaning, to the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> <i lang="gac">en-toaka-ŋa</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ar-doati-ŋa.</i> Given as meaning “my younger brother (male or female speaking).” With the addition
+of <i lang="gac">-pail</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ar-weǰi-ŋa</i> or <i lang="gac">d’ar-weǰeri-ŋa</i>. These are given by Mr Man as alternative terms for “younger brother,” and, with
+the addition of <i lang="gac">-pail</i>, for “younger sister.” It is to be noted that the stem <i lang="gac">-weǰi-</i> or <i lang="gac">-weǰeri-</i> is the same that occurs in one of the terms for “mother,” but that the prefix is
+different, being in this case <i lang="gac">ar-</i> instead of <i lang="gac">ab-</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Dia mama.</i> This is given as meaning “my wife’s brother, or my husband’s brother (if of equal
+standing).”
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Dia mam-ola.</i> 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).
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Mama</i> and <i lang="gac">Mam-ola</i> are terms of address in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>. <i lang="gac">Mam-ola</i> implies a somewhat greater degree of respect than <span class="pageNum" id="pb64">[<a href="#pb64">64</a>]</span><i lang="gac">Mama</i>, and this in its turn is more respectful than <i lang="gac">Mai-ola</i> or <i lang="gac">Maia</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’aka-kam.</i> Mr Man gives this as a term applicable to the following relatives:—my younger brother,
+my younger half-brother. With the addition of <i lang="gac">-pail</i>, it is applicable to a younger sister or half-sister.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Dia otoniya</i> and <i lang="gac">dia otin</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> terms <i lang="gac">otoni</i> and <i lang="gac">oten</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Aka-yakat.</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> word <i lang="gac">aka-yat</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’aka-ba-bula</i> and <i lang="gac">d’aka-ba-pail</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">-bula</i> and <i lang="gac">-pail</i> mean “male” and “female” respectively. The term <i lang="gac">aka-ba</i> is the phonetic equivalent of the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> word <i lang="gac">aka-bua</i>. 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
+<i lang="gac">otoni</i> and <i lang="gac">oten</i>, as recorded from the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> tribe, may be compared with the usage stated by Mr Man, as there is some disagreement.
+In the following table the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> terms are given as they are found in Mr Man’s list, while those of the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> tribe are given from my own information.
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<thead>
+<tr class="label">
+<td class="cell-head-left cell-head-top cell-head-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Aka-Bea </td>
+<td class="cell-head-right cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Akar-Bale
+</td>
+</tr>
+</thead>
+<tbody>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Husband’s younger brother </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">aka-ba-bula</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i lang="gac">aka-bua</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Husband’s younger sister </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">otin</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i lang="gac">aka-bua</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Wife’s younger brother </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i lang="gac">aka-bua</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Wife’s younger sister </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i lang="gac">aka-bua</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">Younger brother’s wife </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">aka-ba-pail</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i lang="gac">oten</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom">Younger sister’s husband </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">otoniya</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">otoni</i>.</td>
+</tr>
+</tbody>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb65">[<a href="#pb65">65</a>]</span></p>
+<p>It will be observed that the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> 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 <i lang="gac">aka-ba-pail</i> instead of <i lang="gac">otin</i>, while “younger brother’s wife” should be <i lang="gac">otin</i> instead of <i lang="gac">aka-ba-pail</i>. This would make the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> list consistent with itself and with the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> list.
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man gives, in addition to the terms discussed above, a number of compound terms,
+which we may examine briefly.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ar-čabil-entoba-re.</i> This is given as applicable to any first cousin or half-brother who is older than
+the speaker. The feminine form is given as <i lang="gac">d’ar-čanol-a-entoba-yate</i>.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ar-čabil-entoba-re lai-ik-yate.</i> This is applicable to the wife of any first cousin or <i>half-brother</i>, if older than the speaker. As <i lang="gac">lai-ik-yate</i> means “his wife,” this is a descriptive term. There is a similar term <i lang="gac">dia čanol a-entoba-yate lai-ik-yate</i> for the husband of an older female cousin or half-sister.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">D’ar-ba lai-ik-yate.</i> This means “the wife of my <i lang="gac">ar-ba</i>,” 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.
+</p>
+<p>There are a few other similar compounds that need not be given.
+</p>
+<p>In Mr Man’s list a step-son is given as <i lang="gac">eb-aden-ire</i>. The word for adoption is <i lang="gac">ot-čat-ŋa</i>, <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e4642">d’ot-čat-ŋa</span></i> meaning “my adopted child” and <i lang="gac">d’ab-mai-ot-čat-ŋa</i> “my adopted father.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>We may consider first the terms of address and the terms of relationship formed from
+them. The terms of address are:—
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<thead>
+<tr class="label">
+<td class="cell-head-left cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Aka-Jeru </td>
+<td class="cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Aka-Bea </td>
+<td class="cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Akar-Bale </td>
+<td class="cell-head-right cell-head-top cell-head-bottom"></td>
+</tr>
+</thead>
+<tbody>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Maia</i> or <i lang="gac">Mai</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Da</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Maia</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">Sir</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Mimi</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">In</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Cana</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">Lady</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom">.….. </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">Mama</i> </td>
+<td colspan="2" class="colspan cell-right cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">Mama</i> or <i lang="gac">mamola</i>.</td>
+</tr>
+</tbody>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb66">[<a href="#pb66">66</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> a man speaks of his father as <i lang="gac">t’a-mai</i>, and of his mother as <i lang="gac">t’a-mimi</i>, the <i lang="gac">a-</i> being a contracted form of the prefix <i lang="gac">aka-</i>. This prefix is always used in this way in the Northern languages. It is not possible
+to say <i lang="gac">tičo maia</i>, which would be the literal equivalent of <i lang="gac">dege da</i> in <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i>. In the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> language the translation of “my father” and “my mother” is <i lang="gac">dege da</i> and <i lang="gac">deg’ in</i>, the <i lang="gac">dege</i> being the personal pronoun “my” as used before a word that has no prefix. The same
+formation is present also in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> languages. For example in <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> “my father” is <i lang="gac">tiye tao</i>, and “my mother” <i lang="gac">tiye in</i>. In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> language, according to the information given by Mr Man, the word <i lang="gac">maia</i> (or <i lang="gac">maiola</i>) may be used combined with a prefix, as in <i lang="gac">d’ab-maiola</i> = “my father,” or it may be used simply with the personal pronoun as <i lang="gac">dia maia</i> or <i lang="gac">dia maiola</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">maia</i>. This is contradicted by Mr Portman who gives <i lang="gac">dia maiola</i> as the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> for “my father.”
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> and <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> languages (as also in <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i>) a man always addresses his grandparent or his father-in-law or mother-in-law by
+the term <i lang="gac">Mama</i> or <i lang="gac">Mamola</i>. He is therefore able to refer to these persons by adding the personal pronoun to
+the term of address, as <i lang="gac">dege mama</i> in <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i>. This cannot, however, be regarded as properly a term denoting relationship, for
+a man may apply the term <i lang="gac">Mama</i> to a man or woman to whom he is not related at all<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e4826src" href="#xd33e4826" title="Go to note 26.">26</a>.
+</p>
+<p>The next kind of words that we may consider are those that describe the respective
+social position of two persons. Such are the words <i lang="gac">ot-otoatue</i> and <i lang="gac">ot-arai-čulute</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>, meaning <span class="pageNum" id="pb67">[<a href="#pb67">67</a>]</span>“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 <i lang="gac">en-toaka-ŋa</i> and <i lang="gac">ar-dot-ot</i> of <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i>. I was not able to discover in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> nor yet in <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> any term to denote a brother or a sister. In <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>, however, Mr Man records the term <i lang="gac">ar-weǰi-ŋa</i> or <i lang="gac">ar-weǰeri-ŋa</i>. The stem <i lang="gac">-weǰi-</i> or <i lang="gac">-weǰeri-</i>, as we shall shortly see, is a verbal stem referring to the act of birth, <i lang="gac">-ŋa</i> is a verbal suffix, and the prefix <i lang="gac">ar-</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Akar-J̌eru</i> and <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i>, but I never came across them.
+</p>
+<p>Other terms descriptive of social status are the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> terms <i lang="gac">ab-čuga</i> and <i lang="gac">ab-čupal</i> 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 <i lang="gac">d’ab-čuga</i>, adding the personal pronoun to what is properly a word descriptive of the social
+position of the person in question. In <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> the equivalent terms are <i lang="gac">ab-čabil</i> and <i lang="gac">ab-čana</i>. It would seem that the term <i lang="gac">aka-kuam</i> (<i lang="gac">aka-kam</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>There are a certain number of terms that are descriptive of definite relationships.
+In the North <i lang="gac">ot-e-bui</i>, and in <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale ab-i-ŋa</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> there are such terms; <i lang="gac">ab-atr</i> in <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> means “father” while the word for “mother” was not noted; in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> a father is <i lang="gac">ar-odi-ŋa</i>, and a mother is <i lang="gac">ab-eti-ŋa</i>. These words are descriptive of the physiological relation between a <span class="pageNum" id="pb68">[<a href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>parent and a child. A man’s adopted mother could not be his <i lang="gac">ab-eti-ŋa</i>, for this term applies only to the woman from whose womb he issued. Similarly an
+adopted father or a step-father could not be <i lang="gac">ab-atr</i> or <i lang="gac">ar-odi-ŋa</i>. There are similar words for child, which also refer to the physiological relation
+of a child to its parent. In the North the stem <i lang="gac">-tire</i> means “offspring.” The offspring of a plant, that is the young shoots, are denoted
+by the term <i lang="gac">era-tire</i>, the prefix <i lang="gac">era-</i> serving to convey a reference to trees and plants. The offspring of an animal or
+of a human being is <i lang="gac">e-tire</i>. The word <i lang="gac">e-tire</i> means “the child of somebody” without reference to any particular person as the parent.
+In the form <i lang="gac">ot-tire</i> the word means “his or her child” with reference to some person understood. A man
+or woman cannot in strict accuracy apply the term <i lang="gac">ot-tire</i> 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<span id="xd33e4987">,</span>” <i lang="gac">t’oi-čolo-kom</i>. In <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> the child (in the physiological sense) of a father is <i lang="gac">ar-kodire</i>, and the child of a mother is <i lang="gac">ab-atet</i>. In <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> the physiological relation of a father and child is denoted by the verbal stem <i lang="gac">-odi-</i>. This stem takes the prefix <i lang="gac">ar-</i>. The word for father is formed by adding the verbal suffix <i lang="gac">-ŋa</i> (<i lang="gac">ar-odi-ŋa</i>). The word for child (father speaking) is formed by means of the verbal suffix <i lang="gac">-re</i> or <i lang="gac">-yate</i> (<i lang="gac">ar-odi-re</i> or <i lang="gac">ar-odi-yate</i>). We may translate <i lang="gac">d’ar-odi-ŋa</i> as meaning “he who caused me to be conceived” while <i lang="gac">d’ar-odi-re</i> or <i lang="gac">d’ar-odi-yate</i> 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 <i lang="gac">-eti-</i>. This stem takes the prefix <i lang="gac">ab-</i>. A mother is <i lang="gac">ab-eti-ŋa</i>, and the child of a mother is <i lang="gac">ab-eti-re</i> or <i lang="gac">ab-eti-yate</i>, the verbal suffixes being used in a way similar to that in the case of the terms
+for father and child. In <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> there is also a stem <i lang="gac">-weǰi-</i> or <i lang="gac">-weǰeri-</i> which has exactly the same meaning as <i lang="gac">-eti-</i> and can be substituted for it in the terms meaning mother and child, as <i lang="gac">ab-weǰi-ŋa</i> = mother, <i lang="gac">ab-weǰi-re</i> = child.
+</p>
+<p>Other descriptive words used to denote specific relationships <span class="pageNum" id="pb69">[<a href="#pb69">69</a>]</span>are <i lang="gac">e-pota-čiu</i> and <i lang="gac">e-pota-čip</i> and <i lang="gac">ot-otone</i> in the Northern languages. The derivations of these words <span class="corr" id="xd33e5094" title="Source: has">have</span> not been ascertained. Similar terms in <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> are <i lang="gac">otoni</i> and <i lang="gac">oten</i> and <i lang="gac">aka-yat</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">ot-čat-ŋa</i> (adopted) and <i lang="gac">ep-taruo-ŋa</i> (step-relative).
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> the phrase <i lang="gac">dege mama</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> “<i lang="gac">aka-mimi aka-mai</i>” = “his mother’s father,” or <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> “<i lang="gac">deg’ in l’ab-atr</i>” = “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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea ar-odi-ŋa</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> term <i lang="gac">dege mama</i>, we find that it is really based not on relationships of consanguinity and marriage,
+but on respective social status<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5146src" href="#xd33e5146" title="Go to note 27.">27</a>.
+</p>
+<p>As, in the languages of the Andamans, there are few words serving to denote relationship,
+and on the contrary a <span class="pageNum" id="pb70">[<a href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.&nbsp;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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb71">[<a href="#pb71">71</a>]</span>uninfluenced by the vices or virtues of alien races<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5159src" href="#xd33e5159" title="Go to note 28.">28</a>.” 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The only regulation of marriage is on the basis of relationship. Marriage is forbidden
+between near <i>consanguinei</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i> tribe. The husband <span class="pageNum" id="pb72">[<a href="#pb72">72</a>]</span>and wife were the son and daughter of two brothers. Mr E.&nbsp;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<span id="xd33e5175"></span> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5177src" href="#xd33e5177" title="Go to note 29.">29</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb73">[<a href="#pb73">73</a>]</span>to obtain statistics as to the frequency with which such marriages occur, if they
+occur at all.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> by the word <i lang="gac">aka-yat</i>. The duties implied by this relationship will be described later.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb74">[<a href="#pb74">74</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5199src" href="#xd33e5199" title="Go to note 30.">30</a>. 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.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb75">[<a href="#pb75">75</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5208src" href="#xd33e5208" title="Go to note 31.">31</a>.” 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>childless</i> widower<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5217src" href="#xd33e5217" title="Go to note 32.">32</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">ot-arai-čulute</i> and the equivalents in other languages, which apply to any younger person, whether
+actually a brother or cousin or not.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">ot-arai-čulute</i>, 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb76">[<a href="#pb76">76</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5233src" href="#xd33e5233" title="Go to note 33.">33</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">ot-otoatue</i>). I regret that I cannot speak with certainty on these matters.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">čiba</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>), which is shown in <a href="#plate14">Plate <span class="asc">XIV</span></a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Until the age of about eight to ten a child lives with his <span class="pageNum" id="pb77">[<a href="#pb77">77</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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:
+</p>
+<p>“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 <i lang="gac">soi-disant</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5269src" href="#xd33e5269" title="Go to note 34.">34</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb78">[<a href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>living with their own parents. The usual age of adoption seemed to me to be from nine
+or ten years upwards.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<span id="xd33e5281">.</span> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb79">[<a href="#pb79">79</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb80">[<a href="#pb80">80</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> custom of applying to a father-in-law or mother-in-law the same term of address (<i lang="gac">Mama</i>) that is used in speaking to grandparents and others to whom it is required to show
+particular deference.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb81">[<a href="#pb81">81</a>]</span>mother of the man’s wife on the other. In the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> language such persons are said to be <i lang="gac">aka-yat</i> to one another. A man or a woman will not have any immediate dealings with a person
+who is his <i lang="gac">aka-yat</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">aka-yat</i>. 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, <i lang="gac">ot-ǰete</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>.) The shyness begins at the moment when a marriage between their respective children
+is first discussed as a possibility, and lasts apparently till death.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb82">[<a href="#pb82">82</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5335src" href="#xd33e5335" title="Go to note 35.">35</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb83">[<a href="#pb83">83</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb84">[<a href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb85">[<a href="#pb85">85</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5357src" href="#xd33e5357" title="Go to note 36.">36</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb86">[<a href="#pb86">86</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>An example of a long-continued feud, which, to all appearance, has been in existence
+for several centuries, is that between the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> and the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> of the South Andaman. The <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> have the advantage over the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> that their camps are situated in the dense forest and are difficult to find, while
+the camps of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> are mostly along the sea-coast. At the present day the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> and the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>, and since that time the hostility of the <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> has been directed not only against the friendly Andamanese (<i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>, etc.) but also against the inhabitants of the Settlement<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5403src" href="#xd33e5403" title="Go to note 37.">37</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb87">[<a href="#pb87">87</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> natives of Port Blair did not know of the existence of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb88">[<a href="#pb88">88</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2270">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2270src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> <i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes</i>, p. 27.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2270src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2398">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2398src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> Page <a href="#pb18" class="pageref">18</a> above.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2398src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2477">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2477src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2477src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2488">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2488src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> Mouat, F. J., <i>Adventures and Researches among the Andaman Islanders</i>, London, 1863, p. 313.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2488src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2493">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2493src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> <i>Loc. cit.</i> p. 300.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2493src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2499">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2499src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">6</a></span> <i>Journ. Anthrop. Inst.</i> Vol. <span class="asc">XII</span>, pp. 107 and 108.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2499src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2532">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2532src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">7</a></span> Portman, <i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes</i>, p. 23.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2532src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2650">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2650src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">8</a></span> The photograph is reproduced in <i lang="fr">Le Tour du Monde</i>, 1895, p. 447.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2650src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2669">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2669src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">9</a></span> See <i>Journ. Anthrop. Inst.</i> Vol. <span class="asc">XII</span>, p. 71.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2669src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2789">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2789src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">10</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 108.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2789src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2811">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2811src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">11</a></span> In the North Andaman the times before the Settlement are spoken of as the time when
+there were no dogs, <i lang="gac">Bibi poiye</i> = “Dog not.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2811src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2825">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2825src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">12</a></span> They are only eaten in the rainy season.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2825src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2832">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2832src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">13</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2832src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3029">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3029src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">14</a></span> Man, in <i>Journ. Anthrop. Inst.</i> Vol. <span class="asc">XII</span>, p. 108.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3029src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3065">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3065src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">15</a></span> 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.
+</p>
+<p class="footnote cont">Mr Portman in his <i>History of Our Relations with the Andamanese</i> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3065src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3077">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3077src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">16</a></span> 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 <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e3080">Tarenǰek</span></i> because his maternal uncle was a man of violent temper.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3077src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3098">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3098src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">17</a></span> See below, <a href="#ch4">Chap. <span class="asc">IV</span></a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3098src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3121">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3121src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">18</a></span> The classificatory system of relationship was first studied and named by Lewis H.
+Morgan, in <i>Systems of Consanguinity and Affinity of the Human Family</i>, Washington, Smithsonian Institution, 1871. The subject is also discussed in the
+same author’s <i>Ancient Society</i>. 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3121src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3130">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3130src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">19</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3130src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3353">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3353src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">20</a></span> In the Andamanese languages a large number of words are formed from a stem and a prefix.
+<i lang="gac">E-</i>, <i lang="gac">ot-</i>, <i lang="gac">aka-</i>, <i lang="gac">ara-</i>, <i lang="gac">ab-</i> 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 <i lang="gac">e-tire</i> means the offspring of an animal or an human being, <i lang="gac">era-tire</i> 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, <i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes</i>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3353src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3782">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3782src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">21</a></span> <i lang="gac">Dege bula</i> and <i lang="gac">dege pal</i> mean “my husband” and “my wife” respectively.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3782src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3945">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3945src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">22</a></span> <i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3945src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3969">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3969src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">23</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 421. The <i lang="gac">dia</i>, or the <i lang="gac">d’</i> before a prefix, in the words of this list is the pronoun “my.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3969src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e4061">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e4061src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">24</a></span> Portman, <i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes</i>, p. 255.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e4061src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e4138">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e4138src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">25</a></span> <i>Op. cit.</i> p. 100.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e4138src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e4826">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e4826src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">26</a></span> The natives commonly applied the term to me, in the form <i lang="gac">Mam-jula</i>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e4826src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5146">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5146src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">27</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5146src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5159">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5159src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">28</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 135. He speaks of the wives as “models of constancy.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5159src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5177">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5177src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">29</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5177src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5199">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5199src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">30</a></span> When a husband and wife greet one another the man sits on the lap of the wife.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5199src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5208">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5208src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">31</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 139.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5208src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5217">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5217src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">32</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5217src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5233">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5233src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">33</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 139.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5233src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5269">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5269src" title="Return to note 34 in text.">34</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 125.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5269src" title="Return to note 34 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5335">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5335src" title="Return to note 35 in text.">35</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5335src" title="Return to note 35 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5357">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5357src" title="Return to note 36 in text.">36</a></span> The dance is described in the next chapter.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5357src" title="Return to note 36 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5403">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5403src" title="Return to note 37 in text.">37</a></span> In the years 1872 to 1902 inclusive the <i>Jarawa</i> 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 <i>Jarawa</i> and friendly Andamanese. One of the friendlies was surprised and killed while turtle
+hunting in 1894. During the same years the <i>Jarawa</i> 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 <i>Jarawa</i> were killed and seven wounded on various occasions, and several times <i>Jarawa</i> 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 <i>Jarawa</i>. For an official record of dealings with the <i>Jarawa</i> see the “Census Report” 1901, pp. 68–90.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5403src" title="Return to note 37 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e311">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h2 class="main">CEREMONIAL CUSTOMS</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb89">[<a href="#pb89">89</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> 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, <i lang="la">Paradoxurus</i>, turtle, dugong, the fish <i lang="gac">komar</i>, monitor lizard, honey and yams; her husband may eat these things but must carefully
+avoid eating certain fishes.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Rea</i>, the father will be spoken of as <i lang="gac">Rea aka-mai</i> (Rea’s father) instead of by his own name. The mother may be referred to as <i lang="gac">Rea it-pet</i>, from the word <i lang="gac">it-pet</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb90">[<a href="#pb90">90</a>]</span>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 <i>Cyrena</i> shell. After a few days he (or she) is given a coating of clay (<i lang="gac">odu</i>).
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>A married man who is childless and desires a child will wear a <i lang="gac">čiba</i> (sling of bark used for carrying children) round his shoulders when he is sitting
+in camp. The <i lang="gac">čiba</i> and the way it is used for carrying children may be seen in the photograph in <a href="#plate14">Plate <span class="asc">XIV</span></a>. If a childless woman wishes to have a child she may catch, cook and eat a certain
+species of small frog.
+</p>
+<p>At a place called <i>Tonmuket</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5500src" href="#xd33e5500" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb91">[<a href="#pb91">91</a>]</span></p>
+<p>In the North Andaman there is some sort of association between the unborn souls of
+babies, the green pigeon and the <i lang="la">Ficus laccifera</i> tree. The same name, <i lang="gac">Reŋko</i>, is used to denote both the green pigeon and also the <i lang="la">Ficus laccifera</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Ficus</i> 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 <i lang="la">Ficus</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb92">[<a href="#pb92">92</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <a href="#plate15">Plate <span class="asc">XV</span></a> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf being left, with an apron of <i lang="gac">čainyo</i> leaves. Strips of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> 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 <i lang="gac">čelmo</i> (<i lang="la">Tetranthera lancæfolia</i>) or, if these be not obtainable, <i lang="gac">poramo</i> (<i lang="la">Myristica longifolia</i>) are <span class="pageNum" id="pb93">[<a href="#pb93">93</a>]</span>fastened beneath her belt before and behind. Other leaves of the same kind are placed
+for her to sit upon. The strips of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf and the bundle of leaves are visible in the photograph reproduced in <a href="#plate16">Plate <span class="asc">XVI</span></a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">čainyo</i> wood<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5581src" href="#xd33e5581" title="Go to note 2.">2</a> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>During the ceremony and for a short time afterwards the girl is not addressed or spoken
+of by name, but is referred to as <i lang="gac">Alebe</i> or <i lang="gac">Toto</i>. The meaning of the first word is not known. <i lang="gac">Toto</i> is the name of the species of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> 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 <i lang="gac">ǰili</i> is in flower she is called <i lang="gac">J̌ili</i>; if when the <i lang="gac">ǰeru</i> is in flower she is named <i lang="gac">J̌eru</i>, and so on. These names will be mentioned again later in the present chapter.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb94">[<a href="#pb94">94</a>]</span></p>
+<p>After this ceremony the girl is said to be <i lang="gac">aka-ndu-kolo̱t</i>. For some time afterwards she must not have her head shaved, and she must not use
+red paint or white clay.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>At every recurrence of the menstrual period a woman is required to abstain from eating
+certain foods. According to an <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> informant these are, in that tribe, pork, turtle, <i lang="la">Paradoxurus</i>, honey and yams. An <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> informant added to the above list dugong, monitor lizard, and the fish <i lang="gac">komar</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>From the moment of the ceremony just described the girl enters a new condition which
+is denoted in the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> language by the word <i lang="gac">aka-op</i> (<i lang="gac">aka-yaba</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>). 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">aka-op</i>. It would seem that in the Southern tribes there is no ceremony on this occasion.
+Among the Northern tribes the boy is made <i lang="gac">aka-op</i> by means of a ceremony that consists of making the scars on his back that are customary
+in these tribes<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5658src" href="#xd33e5658" title="Go to note 3.">3</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb95">[<a href="#pb95">95</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Eǰido</i>. From this time the boy is described as being <i lang="gac">oko-taliŋ-kolo̱t</i>, this being the masculine term corresponding to <i lang="gac">aka-ndu-kolo̱t</i> for girls. From the time the cuts are made on his back the boy becomes <i lang="gac">aka-op</i> and is under certain restrictions as to what foods he may eat.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>During the period that a boy or girl is <i lang="gac">aka-op</i> 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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb96">[<a href="#pb96">96</a>]</span>turn. It is in the order in which the different foods are forbidden that the chief
+differences occur.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> tribe of the North Andaman, where all are coast-dwellers, the boy or girl, during
+the first part of the <i lang="gac">aka-op</i> period must not eat turtle, dugong, porpoise, <i lang="gac">komar</i> (a fish), hawksbill turtle, the two kinds of edible grubs (<i lang="gac">pata</i> and <i lang="gac">čokele</i>), the monitor lizard, the flying fox (<i lang="la">Pteropus</i>), certain birds (perhaps all birds), certain shell-fish, the four varieties of mangrove
+seed (<i lang="gac">kao</i>, <i lang="gac">čimi</i>, <i lang="gac">kabal</i> and <i lang="gac">kaplo</i>), three edible roots (<i lang="gac">mino</i>, <i lang="gac">labo</i> and <i lang="gac">mikulu</i>), and a large number of other vegetable foods, including <i lang="gac">lo̱itok</i>, <i lang="gac">poroto</i> (if cooked, but it may be eaten raw), <i lang="gac">biǰo</i>, <i lang="gac">čoroŋo</i>, <i lang="gac">celet</i>, <i lang="gac">buroŋ</i>, <i lang="gac">bui</i>, <i lang="gac">bakle</i>, <i lang="gac">čo</i>, <i lang="gac">čatali</i>, and <i lang="gac">kata</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">komar</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">ńyuri</i>-eating, the pig-eating and the <span class="pageNum" id="pb97">[<a href="#pb97">97</a>]</span>honey-eating ceremonies. (The <i lang="gac">ńyuri</i> is a fish that is found in the creeks.) According to my informants of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i> tribe the foods that must be avoided during the first part of the abstention period
+are all species of fish found in inland creeks (<i lang="gac">ńyuri</i>, <i lang="gac">burto</i>, <i lang="gac">bari</i>, <i lang="gac">bol</i>, <i lang="gac">kuato</i>), the monitor lizard, sucking-pig, two species of snake (<i lang="gac">or-čubi</i> and <i lang="gac">uluku-čubi</i>), a number of vegetable foods and also honey. After the <i lang="gac">ńyuri</i>-eating ceremony the different kinds of fish mentioned may be eaten, but the youth
+or girl must then abstain from pork.
+</p>
+<p>These examples, without entering into further details, will suffice to show what is
+the nature of the <i lang="gac">aka-op</i> 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
+(<i lang="gac">odu</i>). 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb98">[<a href="#pb98">98</a>]</span>a friend or one specially built<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5823src" href="#xd33e5823" title="Go to note 4.">4</a>. All his ornaments are removed. (In the case of a girl one belt of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf is retained.) He is seated on leaves of the <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>, or if these be not obtainable, on those of the <i lang="la">Myristica longifolia</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb99">[<a href="#pb99">99</a>]</span>(in the latter case) standing on the outstretched legs of the youth and rolling the
+muscles beneath his feet<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5839src" href="#xd33e5839" title="Go to note 5.">5</a>. The joints of the toes are forcibly bent with the hand to make them “crack” if possible.
+A mixture of clay (<i lang="gac">odu</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5853src" href="#xd33e5853" title="Go to note 6.">6</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>On the morning of the third day a belt and necklace are made of pieces of the creeper
+called <i lang="gac">terkobito-balo</i>, i.e. “centipede creeper” (<i lang="la">Pothos scandens</i>), 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 (<i lang="gac">to̱l-odu</i>). The red paint is put on in stripes over his body, and his ears are daubed with
+it. The white clay <span class="pageNum" id="pb100">[<a href="#pb100">100</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i> or, if such be not obtainable, of the <i lang="la">Myristica longifolia</i>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5877src" href="#xd33e5877" title="Go to note 7.">7</a>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb101">[<a href="#pb101">101</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> leaves and the necklace and belt of <i>Pothos</i> 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 <i>Pothos</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> tribe whose birth name was <i lang="gac">Čop</i> (from a species of tree) and whose nick-name or second name was <i lang="gac">Komar</i> (from a species of fish) had two new names given to him on the occasion of the turtle-eating
+ceremony, <i lang="gac">Čokbi-čiro</i> (meaning turtle-liver) and <i lang="gac">Pilečar</i> (high-tide). Neither of these names was ever used in addressing him.
+</p>
+<p>The turtle-eating ceremony is called in the Northern tribes either <i lang="gac">Čokbi-ǰo</i>, <i lang="gac">Čokbi-kimil</i>, or <i lang="gac">Kimil-ǰo</i>. The word <i lang="gac">čokbi</i> means “turtle,” and <i lang="gac">ǰo</i> means “eating.” The word <i lang="gac">kimil</i> is more difficult to translate. With the prefix <i lang="gac">ot-</i> or <i lang="gac">er-</i> it means “hot” as in <i lang="gac">T’ ot-kimil-bom</i>, “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 <i lang="gac">aka-kimil</i>. 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 “<i lang="gac">Kimil</i>,” 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 <i lang="gac">aka-kimil-kolo̱t</i>. (Before the ceremony the youth is <i lang="gac">oko-taliŋ-kolo̱t</i> and the girl is <i lang="gac">aka-ndu-kolo̱t</i>.) In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> tribe the turtle-eating ceremony is called <i lang="gac">Yadi-gumul</i> or <i lang="gac">Gumul-leke</i>, <i lang="gac">yadi</i> being the word for “turtle” in that language, and <i lang="gac">leke</i> being the equivalent of the <i lang="gac">ǰo</i> of <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>, that is “eating.” A youth or girl who is passing or has recently <span class="pageNum" id="pb102">[<a href="#pb102">102</a>]</span>passed through the ceremony is said to be <i lang="gac">aka-gumul</i>, and is addressed and spoken of, not by name, but by the term <i lang="gac">Guma</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e5984src" href="#xd33e5984" title="Go to note 8.">8</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">čelmo</i> (<i lang="la">Tetranthera</i>) 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 <i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> 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 <i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> wood. On the following day he is decorated with white clay (<i lang="gac">to̱l-odu</i>) 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> leaves those of the <i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> are used, and that the dancer does not leap with both feet from the ground, but raises
+one foot and stamps with it.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb103">[<a href="#pb103">103</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>The above description applies strictly only to the coast-dwellers of the North Andaman
+(<i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i>). I was not able to see any ceremonies performed by the jungle-dwellers. The old
+men of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bo</i> tribe told me that the period of abstention begins when a boy or girl is forbidden
+to eat the fish <i lang="gac">ńyuri</i> (<i lang="la">Plotosus sp.</i><span id="xd33e6041">,</span> probably <i lang="la">P. arab</i>), and a certain number of other foods, not including pork. The first ceremony is
+the eating of the <i lang="gac">ńyuri</i>. The boy or girl is seated on leaves (<i lang="gac">kibir</i> or <i lang="gac">tare</i> or <i lang="gac">ra-čiro</i>) and bundles of these are placed in his belt before and behind. A belt of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb104">[<a href="#pb104">104</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>I was told by one of my informants that in the <i lang="gac">Aka-Kede</i> tribe the pig-eating ceremony precedes the turtle-eating, but I could not obtain
+reliable information about the ceremonies of this tribe.
+</p>
+<p>My informants of the <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> 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 <i lang="la">Tetrodon sp.</i>, <i lang="la">Plotosus sp.</i>, <i lang="la">Anguilla bengalensis</i>, <i lang="la">Trygon bleekari</i>, <i lang="la">T. siphen</i>, <i lang="la">Urogymnus asperrimus</i>, <i lang="la">Carcharias gangeticus</i>, etc.). He must also abstain from turtle’s eggs, pig, yams, honey, and certain fruits
+(e.g. <i lang="la">Artocarpus chaplasha</i>, <i lang="la">Mimusops littoralis</i>, <i lang="la">Baccaurea sapida</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>Mr E.&nbsp;H. Man has given a description of the ceremonies of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> tribe, which shows that they are essentially similar to those of the North. He does
+not distinguish between the ceremonies of the <i lang="gac">aryoto</i> (coast-dwellers) and those of the <i lang="gac">eremtaga</i> (jungle-dwellers). He states that the fasting period (<i lang="gac">aka-yaba</i>) is divided into three parts, the first ending with the <i lang="gac">yadi-</i> (turtle) <i lang="gac">gumul</i>, the second with the <i lang="gac">aǰa-</i> (honey) <i lang="gac">gumul</i>, and the third with the <i lang="gac">reg-ǰiri-</i> (kidney-fat of pig) <i lang="gac">gumul</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> tribe.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb105">[<a href="#pb105">105</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“When the honey fast is to be broken a quantity of honeycombs, according to the number
+assembled, are on the appointed day procured: the <i lang="gac">aka-yab</i> 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 <i lang="gac">reg-ǰiri</i> (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 <i lang="la">Alpinia</i>, called <i lang="gac">ǰini</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e6157src" href="#xd33e6157" title="Go to note 9.">9</a>, and then, in the presence of his friends, goes into the sea (or, if he be an <i lang="gac">eremtaga</i>, 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 <i>snakes</i>, and the onlookers cry “<i lang="gac">o̱to-pedike, kinig wara-ǰobo lo̱tike</i>” (Go and splash yourself, or <i lang="gac">Wara-ǰobo</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e6171src" href="#xd33e6171" title="Go to note 10.">10</a> 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 <i lang="gac">aǰa-gumul</i> is that with females it cannot take place until <span class="pageNum" id="pb106">[<a href="#pb106">106</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e6183src" href="#xd33e6183" title="Go to note 11.">11</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">odu</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> and <i lang="gac">og</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>. The nearer relatives and more intimate friends of the deceased also plaster some
+of the same clay on their heads.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Cyrena</i> 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 <i lang="gac">ko̱bo</i> (<i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>) 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb107">[<a href="#pb107">107</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb108">[<a href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>arrows are placed on the grave. In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> 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 <i lang="la">Anadendron paniculatum</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Ficus laccifera</i>, which as we have seen has a special connection with the spirits of new-born children.
+On the coast, mangrove trees, such as the <i lang="la">Rhizophora</i> or <i lang="la">Bruguiera</i>, are said to be used.
+</p>
+<p>When the burial is completed, whether in a grave or a tree, plumes made of shredded
+palm-leaf stem <i lang="gac">koro</i> (<i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>) or <i lang="gac">ara</i> (<i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>The men then return to the camp, where the women have been busy packing up all belongings.
+Plumes of shredded palm-leaf stem (<i lang="gac">koro</i>) 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb109">[<a href="#pb109">109</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="gac">Licuala</i>), 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 (<i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb110">[<a href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> villages the relatives expressed their grief by cutting down a coconut tree that
+grew there.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb111">[<a href="#pb111">111</a>]</span>of mourning are (1) the use of clay (<i lang="gac">odu</i>), and (2) abstention from certain foods, from dancing, and from the use of white
+clay (<i lang="gac">to̱l</i>) 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 <a href="#plate09">Plates <span class="asc">IX</span></a>, <a href="#plate10"><span class="asc">X</span></a>, and <a href="#plate17"><span class="asc">XVII</span></a>.
+</p>
+<p>The name of the clay thus used is <i lang="gac">odu</i> in the Northern languages, and a mourner is called <i lang="gac">aka-odu</i>. In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> language the name of the clay is <i lang="gac">og</i> and the term for a mourner is <i lang="gac">aka-og</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Buio</i>, from the name of a species of <i lang="gac">Mucuna</i>, it is not necessary to avoid the word <i lang="gac">buio</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>During the period of mourning a near relative of the deceased is never addressed or
+spoken of by name. There are certain <span class="pageNum" id="pb112">[<a href="#pb112">112</a>]</span>terms which are used for this purpose, being terms of address that can be substituted
+for the names that are avoided. Thus in the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> language one such term is <i lang="gac">Bolok</i>, meaning “orphan,” used in addressing or speaking of a person who has lately lost
+a parent. Another term of the same language is <i lang="gac">Ropuč</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">to̱l</i> or <i lang="gac">to̱l-odu</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> and <i lang="gac">tala-og</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">komar</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>, and in some parts yams and honey.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="gac">odu</i>) 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 <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> or other shells. The skulls and jawbones of deceased relatives are preserved for
+a long time, and are worn <span class="pageNum" id="pb113">[<a href="#pb113">113</a>]</span>round the neck either in front or behind. The photograph in <a href="#plate18">Plate <span class="asc">XVIII</span></a> 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 <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e6386src" href="#xd33e6386" title="Go to note 12.">12</a>. This applies only to the tribes of the South and Middle Andaman.
+</p>
+<p>At about the time that the bones are recovered there takes place a special ceremony
+referred to as “taking off the clay” or <span class="pageNum" id="pb114">[<a href="#pb114">114</a>]</span>“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 <i lang="gac">odu</i> 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 <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf or netting and <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb115">[<a href="#pb115">115</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">yat-tub</i>, 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
+<i lang="gac">yat-tub</i>, 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e6416src" href="#xd33e6416" title="Go to note 13.">13</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>I noticed on several occasions that men would not eat certain foods when they were
+away from their own part of the islands. <span class="pageNum" id="pb116">[<a href="#pb116">116</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">komar</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>A few other customs connected with food may be mentioned here. There is only one way
+in which a turtle may be killed<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e6455src" href="#xd33e6455" title="Go to note 14.">14</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>Turtle meat may only be cooked on a fire of the wood of the <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>A number of beliefs relating to vegetable foods will be mentioned in the next chapter.
+</p>
+<p>In several of the ceremonies described in this chapter it will be noticed that the
+weeping of relatives and friends occurs <span class="pageNum" id="pb117">[<a href="#pb117">117</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb118">[<a href="#pb118">118</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e6476src" href="#xd33e6476" title="Go to note 15.">15</a>. 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:—
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top"><i lang="gac">Buio</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top"><i lang="la">Mucuna sp.</i>, a plant with edible beans.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Bol</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus.</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Čop</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">a tree with edible nuts.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Ko̱nmo</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i lang="la">Dioscorea sp.</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Čokbi</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">turtle.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Maro</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">honey.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Meo</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">a stone.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Čeo</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">a knife.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">Bani</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">the oriole.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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:—
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top"><i lang="gac">Kea</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">one who turns in his sleep.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Bo̱ičo</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">one who wrestles.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Elpe</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">one who comes and goes.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Kiǰe̱ri</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">one who walks backwards and forwards.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">Nimi</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">one who catches hold.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb119">[<a href="#pb119">119</a>]</span>a certain number of recognized names from which a choice is usually made. A few examples
+from the North Andaman are:—
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top"><i lang="gac">Ra-t’ot-betč</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">pig’s hair.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Renya-čope</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">much baggage, or many possessions.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Po̱ičo-tomo</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">the wood (literally flesh) of the <i lang="la">Sterculia</i> (<i lang="gac">po̱ičo</i>) tree.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Lau-tei</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">spirit blood.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Luremo</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">rope.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Remu-to̱i</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">a piece of iron.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Čokbi-čiro</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">turtle liver.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">Tarenǰek</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">angry.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>During childhood boys and girls are addressed by either the birth-name or the nick-name.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>.
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<thead>
+<tr class="label">
+<td class="cell-head-left cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Aka-Bea </td>
+<td class="cell-head-top cell-head-bottom"><span id="xd33e6676">Aka-J̌eru</span> </td>
+<td class="cell-head-top cell-head-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-head-right cell-head-top cell-head-bottom"></td>
+</tr>
+</thead>
+<tbody>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Čilipa</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Čelibi</i> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">From the middle of November to the middle of February.
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Moda</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Mukui</i> </td>
+<td rowspan="6" class="rowspan rightbrace"><img src="images/rbrace6.png" alt="}" width="12" height="120"></td>
+<td rowspan="6" class="rowspan cell-right vam">From the middle of February to the middle of May, in order.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Ora</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Oko̱r</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Jidga</i> </td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Yere</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">J̌eru</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Pataka</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Bo̱tek</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Balya</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Puliu</i>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Reče</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Re</i> </td>
+<td rowspan="2" class="rowspan rightbrace"><img src="images/rbrace2.png" alt="}" width="12" height="40"></td>
+<td rowspan="2" class="rowspan cell-right vam">From the middle of May to the end of August.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Čagara</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Čokoro</i>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Čarapa</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">Čarap</i> </td>
+<td rowspan="3" class="rowspan rightbrace cell-bottom"><img src="images/rbrace3.png" alt="}" width="14" height="63"></td>
+<td rowspan="3" class="rowspan cell-right cell-bottom vam">September, October and the first half of November.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i lang="gac">Čenra</i> </td>
+<td><i lang="gac">To̱ro̱k?</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">Yulu</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"><i lang="gac">J̌ili</i></td>
+</tr>
+</tbody>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb120">[<a href="#pb120">120</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Kaba</i> (from <i lang="gac">kabal</i>, a species of mangrove) was called by that name until puberty; thereafter she was
+called <i lang="gac">J̌ili</i> (her flower-name) until the birth of her first child; after this event she is again
+called <i lang="gac">Kaba</i>, and no one would think of addressing her as <i lang="gac">J̌ili</i>. A woman named <i lang="gac">Ele</i> (lightning) at birth was known by this name until puberty, and thereafter was called
+<i lang="gac">Bo̱tek</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Ele</i>, but the older people still called her <i lang="gac">Bo̱tek</i>. If she should bear a child, the name <i lang="gac">Bo̱tek</i> would fall entirely out of use and she would be known as <i lang="gac">Ele</i> by both her juniors and her seniors.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate09width" id="plate09"><img src="images/plate09.jpg" alt="Plate IX" width="452" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate IX</span></p>
+<p class="first">Woman decorated with <i>odu</i> clay</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb121">[<a href="#pb121">121</a>]</span>either by itself, or prefixed to the name of the person spoken to, as <i lang="gac">Maia Buio</i>, <i lang="gac">Mimi Kaba</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Bolok</i>, one who has lost a brother or sister as <i lang="gac">Ropuč</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Kimil</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Toto</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Eǰido</i>.
+</p>
+<p>The name of a dead man or woman is not mentioned during the period of mourning, which
+lasts for some months after the death.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate10width" id="plate10"><img src="images/plate10.jpg" alt="Plate X" width="487" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate X</span></p>
+<p class="first">Woman decorated with <i>odu</i> clay</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">odu</i> <span class="pageNum" id="pb122">[<a href="#pb122">122</a>]</span>in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> and <i lang="gac">og</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>; (2) a fine white pipe-clay which is rarer than the common clay and is more highly
+prized, called <i lang="gac">to̱l</i> or <i lang="gac">to̱l-odu</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> and <i lang="gac">tala-og</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>; (3) a red pigment made by mixing burnt oxide of iron with animal or vegetable fat
+or oil, called <i lang="gac">keyip</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> and <i lang="gac">ko̱iob</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>.
+</p>
+<p>The common clay (<i lang="gac">odu</i>) 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 <i lang="gac">aka-odu</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> or <i lang="gac">aka-og</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>. 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 <i lang="gac"><span id="xd33e6951">Aka-J̌eru</span></i>) <i lang="gac">e̱ra-puli</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate11width" id="plate11"><img src="images/plate11.jpg" alt="Plate XI" width="720" height="482"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate XI</span></p>
+<p class="first">Three men and a young woman decorated with <i><b>odu</b></i> clay</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#plate11">Plate <span class="asc">XI</span></a>. 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 <a href="#plate09">Plates <span class="asc">IX</span></a> and <a href="#plate10"><span class="asc">X</span></a>. As a rule the designs are more or less symmetrical, the right <span class="pageNum" id="pb123">[<a href="#pb123">123</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">čokbi-t’e̱ra-puli</i>, turtle pattern, while if he has been eating pork he will call it <i lang="gac">ra-t’e̱ra-puli</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>Of special patterns I was only able to discover two. One of these is called <i lang="gac">kimil-t’e̱ra-puli</i> and is only used to paint a person who is <i lang="gac">aka-kimil</i>, 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 <a href="#plate11">Plate <span class="asc">XI</span></a> (the second <span class="pageNum" id="pb124">[<a href="#pb124">124</a>]</span>figure from the left). Another special pattern is called <i lang="gac">toto-t’e̱ra-puli</i> (<i lang="la">Pandanus</i> pattern), and is used, I believe, to decorate a girl after the ceremony at her first
+menstruation.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate12width" id="plate12"><img src="images/plate12.jpg" alt="Plate XII" width="446" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate XII</span></p>
+<p class="first">A young man decorated with white clay in readiness for a dance</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>The fine white clay called <i lang="gac">to̱l-odu</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> 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
+<i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> is <i lang="gac">o̱r-čubi-t’e̱ra-bat</i>, from the name of a species of snake, <i lang="gac">o̱r-čubi</i>. Exactly the same name is used in <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i>, <i lang="gac">wara-čupi-l’ar-par</i>. Mr Man gives the <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> name as <i lang="gac">ǰobo-tartaŋa</i>, from <i lang="gac">ǰobo</i> the name for snake in general. A man decorated with this “snake pattern,” as it may
+be called, is shown in <a href="#plate12">Plate <span class="asc">XII</span></a>, and a pattern of the same kind is shown on the head of the man in <a href="#plate13">Plate <span class="asc">XIII</span></a>. 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 <a href="#plate12">Plate <span class="asc">XII</span></a> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb125">[<a href="#pb125">125</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#plate13">Plate <span class="asc">XIII</span></a>.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate13width" id="plate13"><img src="images/plate13.jpg" alt="Plate XIII" width="505" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate XIII</span></p>
+<p class="first">A man with a pattern of white clay on his face</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i lang="la">Dendrobium</i>. 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 <i lang="la">Areca</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb126">[<a href="#pb126">126</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> shell. A belt and necklace of this kind are to be seen in <a href="#plate05">Plate <span class="asc">V</span></a>, and garters are worn by the woman in <a href="#plate09">Plate <span class="asc">IX</span></a>. An alternative costume for men consists of a set of ornaments of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf (belt, chaplet, bracelets and garters), decorated with <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> and other shells. Garters of this kind are shown in <a href="#plate12">Plate <span class="asc">XII</span></a>.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate14width" id="plate14"><img src="images/plate14.jpg" alt="Plate XIV" width="450" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate XIV</span></p>
+<p class="first">A woman with her child</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb127">[<a href="#pb127">127</a>]</span>as human bones, and ornaments made of them are commonly worn.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate15width" id="plate15"><img src="images/plate15.jpg" alt="Plate XV" width="449" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate XV</span></p>
+<p class="first">A young married woman, showing pattern scarified on body and arms</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>The ordinary costume of the women is different from that of the men. Every woman and
+girl wears at least one belt of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> 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
+<i lang="la">Mimusops littoralis</i> 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 <i lang="gac">čainyo</i>, and over this they also wore a tassel of shredded palm-leaf stem (<i lang="gac">koro</i>). Within recent years the Northern tribes have given up their own custom in this
+matter and have adopted the custom of the Southern tribes.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Dentalium octogonum</i>.
+</p>
+<p>With the exception that men wear the belt of rope, and women wear the belt of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>One object which would seem to have a purely utilitarian purpose is the sling used
+for carrying children (called in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru <span class="pageNum" id="pb128">[<a href="#pb128">128</a>]</span>čiba</i>). 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate16width" id="plate16"><img src="images/plate16.jpg" alt="Plate XVI" width="513" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate XVI</span></p>
+<p class="first">A girl during the ceremony at puberty, decorated with strips of <i>Pandanus</i> leaf</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Pterocarpus</i> tree. One is shown in <a href="#plate06">Plate <span class="asc">VI</span></a>. 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb129">[<a href="#pb129">129</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate17width" id="plate17"><img src="images/plate17.jpg" alt="Plate XVII" width="454" height="720"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate XVII</span></p>
+<p class="first">A woman wearing clay on her forehead as a sign of mourning</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb130">[<a href="#pb130">130</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="figure mus130-1width"><img src="images/mus130-1.png" alt="" data-role="presentation" width="187" height="71"></span> or <span class="figure mus130-2width"><img src="images/mus130-2.png" alt="" data-role="presentation" width="178" height="71"></span>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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:—
+</p>
+<div class="figure mus130-3width"><img src="images/mus130-3.png" alt="" data-role="presentation" width="271" height="95"></div><p>
+</p>
+<p>The lower line shows the beats on the sounding-board.
+</p>
+<p>Some of the dancers occasionally break into the regular Southern step. A dancer sometimes
+changes from the usual <span class="pageNum" id="pb131">[<a href="#pb131">131</a>]</span>step to another called <i lang="gac">ko̱i</i>, in which each foot is alternately struck on the ground and scraped backwards. Other
+slight variations of the movement may be introduced.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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:—
+</p>
+<div class="figure mus131-1width"><img src="images/mus131-1.png" alt="" data-role="presentation" width="194" height="99"></div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb132">[<a href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate18width" id="plate18"><img src="images/plate18.jpg" alt="Plate XVIII" width="720" height="483"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate XVIII</span></p>
+<p class="first">A girl wearing her sister’s skull</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Akar-Bale</i> song, which is quite typical, is “<i lang="gac">Po̱io</i>, the son of <i lang="gac">Mam Golat</i>, 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e7271src" href="#xd33e7271" title="Go to note 16.">16</a>. To these the reader may refer for further information.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb133">[<a href="#pb133">133</a>]</span>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 <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf or netting and shells. Each man held in his hands or placed in his belt or head-dress
+plumes of shredded <i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> wood (called <i lang="gac">čelmo</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>, <i lang="gac">uǰ</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>). 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 <i>Cyrena</i> 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 <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> wood, and are carried or worn in a similar manner.
+</p>
+<p>When the attacking party set out from their village each man wears a plume of shredded
+<i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> wood (<i lang="gac">čelmo</i>) 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 (<i lang="gac">to̱l-odu</i>) 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb134">[<a href="#pb134">134</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">koro-čop</i>. 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 (<i lang="gac">koro</i>). The appearance of this construction may be seen from the photograph reproduced
+in <a href="#plate19">Plate <span class="asc">XIX</span></a>. 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 <i lang="gac">koro-čop</i>, with his arms stretched out sideways along the top of it. None of them has any weapons.
+</p>
+<div class="figure plate19width" id="plate19"><img src="images/plate19.jpg" alt="Plate XIX" width="720" height="478"><p class="figureHead"><span class="sc">Plate XIX</span></p>
+<p class="first">The peace-making dance of the North Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">koro-čop</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">koro-čop</i>, and every now and then break into a shrill shout. The men at the <i lang="gac">koro</i> stand silent and motionless and are expected to show no sign of fear.
+</p>
+<p>After they have been dancing thus for a little time, the leader of the dancers approaches
+the man at one end of the <i lang="gac">koro</i> and, taking him by the shoulders from the front, leaps vigorously <span class="pageNum" id="pb135">[<a href="#pb135">135</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">koro</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>When the women have been through their dance the two parties of men and women sit
+down and weep together.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb136">[<a href="#pb136">136</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5500">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5500src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> I could not obtain any definite legend about these stones, but one informant said
+that when <i>Biliku</i> got angry and destroyed the world (see later, <a href="#ch4">Chap. <span class="asc">IV</span></a>) the children all became stones at this place.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5500src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5581">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5581src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> 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 <i lang="la">Mimusops littoralis</i> are in use for this purpose, and the Northern tribes have recently given up their
+own custom and adopted that of the South.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5581src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5658">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5658src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> Unfortunately I was not able to see this ceremony performed, and my information is
+therefore derived from the statements of the natives.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5658src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5823">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5823src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> There is no secrecy about any of the proceedings; the whole ceremony is performed
+in the village and may be witnessed by anybody.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5823src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5839">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5839src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> In the Southern tribes large stones are placed on the youth’s thighs.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5839src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5853">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5853src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">6</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5853src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5877">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5877src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">7</a></span> I believe that the dance is intended to imitate the movement of a turtle as it swims
+through the water.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5877src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e5984">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e5984src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">8</a></span> The meaning of the word <i lang="gac">kimil</i> (or <i lang="gac">gumul</i>) will be discussed in a later chapter.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e5984src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e6157">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e6157src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">9</a></span> 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.)&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e6157src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e6171">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e6171src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">10</a></span> This is believed to be the <i lang="la">Ophiophagus elaps</i>. (Note by Mr Man.)&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e6171src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e6183">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e6183src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">11</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 133.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e6183src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e6386">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e6386src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">12</a></span> Man, <i>loc. cit.</i> p. 143.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e6386src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e6416">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e6416src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">13</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 354. Mr Man adds in a note that “it is believed that <i lang="gac">Puluga</i> would punish severely any person who might be guilty of eating his <i lang="gac">yat-tub</i>, either by causing his skin to peel off (<i lang="gac">wainyake</i>) or by turning his hair white and flaying him alive.” On <i lang="gac">Puluga</i> see later, <a href="#ch3">Chaps. <span class="asc">III</span></a> and <a href="#ch4"><span class="asc">IV</span></a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e6416src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e6455">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e6455src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">14</a></span> Turtle are captured alive by means of harpoons, and may be kept alive several days
+before they are killed and eaten.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e6455src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e6476">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e6476src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">15</a></span> Mr M.&nbsp;V. Portman gives a list of personal names in use in the South Andaman in his
+<i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes</i>, p. 70. The derivations of many of the names as there given, are, however, of doubtful
+accuracy.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e6476src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e7271">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e7271src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">16</a></span> Portman, <i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes</i>, pp. 166–188.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e7271src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e321">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h2 class="main">RELIGIOUS AND MAGICAL BELIEFS</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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 <i lang="gac">lau</i>, <i lang="gac">lao</i> or <i lang="gac">yau</i> in the languages of the North and Middle Andaman, and <i lang="gac">čauga</i> in the South Andaman. While all spirits are denoted together by the term <i lang="gac">lau</i> or <i lang="gac">čauga</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">Ti-miku Lau</i>, from the word <i lang="gac">ti-miku</i> meaning the forest, or more accurately “land.” (The only land known to the Andamanese
+is covered with forest.) In <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> the name for these jungle spirits is <i lang="gac">E̱rem Čauga</i>, the word <i lang="gac">e̱rem</i> being the equivalent in that language of the Northern <i lang="gac">ti-miku</i>. In the North Andaman the <i lang="gac">Ti-miku Lau</i> are often called <i lang="gac">Bido Teč Lau</i>, i.e., spirits of the <i lang="la">Calamus</i> leaf, <i lang="gac">bido</i> being the name of the <i lang="la">Calamus tigrinus</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>There are other spirits that live in the sea. Although these may be included under
+the term <i lang="gac">Lau</i> or <i lang="gac">Čauga</i>, when it is used in a general sense, yet there is a special name for the sea spirits,
+<i lang="gac">J̌urua</i> in the North Andaman, and <i lang="gac">J̌uruwin</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>. The <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i> are beings of the same nature as the <i lang="gac">Ti-miku Lau</i>, with the difference that they live in the sea, while the latter live in the forest.
+</p>
+<p>In the South Andaman the natives also speak of another class of spirits who live in
+the sky and are called <i lang="gac">Mo̱rua</i> or <i lang="gac">Mo̱rowin</i>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb137">[<a href="#pb137">137</a>]</span></p>
+<p>When an Andamanese man or woman dies he or she becomes a spirit, i.e., a <i>Lau</i> or <i lang="gac">Čauga</i>. The bones of a dead person, which are dug up after the flesh has decayed, are called
+<i lang="gac">Lau to̱i</i> in the North Andaman, <i lang="gac">to̱i</i> being the word for “bone.” The skull is <i lang="gac">Lau t’e̱r-čo</i>, from the word <i lang="gac">e̱r-čo</i> meaning “head.” Exactly similar terms are in use in <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i>, the bones of a dead man being called <i lang="gac">Čauga ta</i> (spirit bones).
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Lau</i>, these ancestors are of course included under that term. They are often distinguished
+from the spirits of persons recently dead by being denoted as <i lang="gac">Lau t’e̱r-kuro</i>, from the word <i lang="gac">e̱r-kuro</i> 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
+(<i lang="gac">e̱r-kuro</i>), so the ancestors of the Andamanese legends are called “big” spirits. The <i lang="gac">Aka-Bea</i> use a similar term, <i lang="gac">Čauga tabaŋa</i>, to distinguish the ancestors from the spirits of ordinary persons.
+</p>
+<p>The name <i>Lau</i> or <i lang="gac">Čauga</i> is also applied by the Andamanese to the natives of India and Burma whom they see
+in the Penal Settlement of Port Blair. The <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> name for the Penal Settlement is <i lang="gac">Lau-t’ara-nyu</i>, literally “the village of the spirits.” At the present time the term <i>Lau</i> or <i lang="gac">Čauga</i> 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 <i>Lau</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The term <i>Lau</i> 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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>, that being the term applied by the Great <span class="pageNum" id="pb138">[<a href="#pb138">138</a>]</span>Andaman tribes to the natives of the Little Andaman. On the other hand they called
+Polynesians <i>Lau</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i>Lau</i>, apparently regarding them as visitors from the only other world they knew of, the
+world of spirits<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e7543src" href="#xd33e7543" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>. The clothes that these “spirits” wore they called <i lang="gac">Lau ot-ǰulu</i>, the word <i lang="gac">ot-ǰulu</i> meaning “cold.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb139">[<a href="#pb139">139</a>]</span>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
+(<i lang="gac">koro</i>) which he claimed had been placed upon him by the spirits.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb140">[<a href="#pb140">140</a>]</span>a country in which he is a stranger. A man of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i> devour those who are drowned or otherwise lost in the sea.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">E̱rem Čauga</i> (jungle spirit) and only one <i lang="gac">J̌uruwin</i> (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:—<i lang="gac">E̱rem-čauga-la</i>, the “evil spirit of the woods, has a numerous progeny by his wife <i lang="gac">Čana Badgi-lola</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">J̌uruwin</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">J̌uruwin</i>. He has various submarine residences, and boats for travelling under the surface
+of the sea, while he carries with him a net, in <span class="pageNum" id="pb141">[<a href="#pb141">141</a>]</span>which he places all the victims, human or piscine, he may succeed in capturing<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e7600src" href="#xd33e7600" title="Go to note 2.">2</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Portman correctly translates the word <i lang="gac">J̌uruwin</i> as meaning “the spirits of the sea” using the plural and not the singular<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e7610src" href="#xd33e7610" title="Go to note 3.">3</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Maia Dula</i> (<i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>) or <i lang="gac">Maia Čirikli</i> (<i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>), the sun is <i>Mimi Diu</i> and their children the stars are <i lang="gac">Čatlo</i>, the larger ones, and <i>Katań</i> the smaller. <i lang="gac">Čatlo</i> is the name of a species of finely marked beetle, and <i>katań</i> is the name of the common fire-fly. Individual stars or constellations are not recognized.
+</p>
+<p>Another version from the same tribes is that the moon (<i>Dula</i>) is female, and has a husband named <i>Maia Tok</i>, while the sun (<i>Diu</i> or <i lang="gac">To̱rodiu</i>) is male.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> tribe there is a belief that the moon (<i lang="gac">Maia Čirikli</i>) can, when he wishes, turn himself into a pig, and come down to earth and feed on
+the things that the pigs eat. There <span class="pageNum" id="pb142">[<a href="#pb142">142</a>]</span>is a legend that on one occasion the moon thus turned himself into a pig and came
+down to earth to eat the <i lang="gac">čuei</i> fruit. A man named <i lang="gac">Maia Čoinyop</i> met the moon (in the form of a pig) in the forest, and shot him with an arrow. <i lang="gac">Čirikli</i> (the moon) took out his knife and killed the unfortunate <i lang="gac">Čoinyop</i>, cutting off his head, which he left behind, and taking the body up to the sky where
+he ate it.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe the most common statement is that the moon (<i>Puki</i>) is male and that the sun (<i>Puto</i>) is his wife. A different statement from the same tribe is that the moon is female
+and is the wife of a being named <i>Tomo</i>. <i>Tomo</i> seems to be to some extent identified with the sun. Thus one informant said that
+it is <i>Tomo</i> who sends the fine weather, and that it is he who sends the daylight every day. Where
+<i>Tomo</i> 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 <i>Tomo</i>. We shall see in the next chapter that, according to some of the legends, <i>Tomo</i> is the first ancestor of the Andamanese.
+</p>
+<p>Yet another version is that the moon was made by <i>Tomo</i> out of opalescent stone, and it is <i>Tomo</i> who, in some way, regulates its passage across the sky.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Maia Ogar</i> (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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb143">[<a href="#pb143">143</a>]</span>complied with <i>Maia Ogar’s</i> wishes and requirements. The glowing aspect of the full moon on its first appearance
+above the horizon is supposed to indicate that <i>Maia Ogar</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e7719src" href="#xd33e7719" title="Go to note 4.">4</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>As regards the waxing and waning of the moon, Mr Man says that these are explained
+by the <i>Aka-Bea</i> “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 <i lang="gac">ko̱iob</i> (red paint) and <i lang="gac">tala-o̱g</i> (white clay) and then gradually wiping it off<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e7734src" href="#xd33e7734" title="Go to note 5.">5</a>.” In the <i>Aka-Kede</i> tribe the natives say that as <i lang="gac">Maia Čirike</i> (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 <i>Dula e-tire</i>, i.e. the “baby moon,” the word <i>e-tire</i> denoting the young offspring of an animal or a human being.
+</p>
+<p>With regard to a lunar eclipse Mr Man writes that “in case <i>Maia Ogar</i> 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 <i>rata</i> (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:—<i lang="gac">Ogar, laden balak ban lebe ŋ’idoati! doati! doati!</i> (O Moon, I will give you the seed of the <i>balak!</i> show yourself! appear! appear!) This is said derisively, for, although these <span class="pageNum" id="pb144">[<a href="#pb144">144</a>]</span>seeds are largely consumed by the pigs, the aborigines do not consider them fit for
+food<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e7762src" href="#xd33e7762" title="Go to note 6.">6</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>It may be noted that the invitation to the moon to eat <i>balak</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> wood (<i lang="gac">čelmo</i> or <i lang="gac">uǰ</i>) and blow on them towards the moon.
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man states that “a solar eclipse alarms them too much to allow of their indulging
+in jests or threats, &amp;c.: during the time it lasts they all remain silent and motionless,
+as if in momentary expectation of some calamity<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e7784src" href="#xd33e7784" title="Go to note 7.">7</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>There are several different accounts in the North Andaman of the phenomena of day
+and night. The night is often personified and is called <i>Mimi Bat</i> (Lady Night). One version is that it is she who makes the night while <i lang="gac">Maia To̱rodiu</i> makes the day. <i>Diu</i> is the name of the sun, and <i lang="gac">to̱ro-diu</i> really means “the full sun” and refers to the middle part of the day when the sun
+is well up in the sky.
+</p>
+<p>Another Northern version is that the daylight is made by a being named <i><span id="xd33e7804">Tauto̱bitatmo̱</span></i> who lives in the sky. He shuts up the day under a stone every evening and lets it
+out every morning. Of <i lang="gac">Tauto̱bitatmo̱</i> 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, <i>tau</i> being the sky.
+</p>
+<p>Still another version from the same tribes is that it is a being named <i lang="gac">Maia Čara</i> who makes the daylight. <i lang="gac">Čara</i> seems to be the equivalent of the <i>Tomo</i> of the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb145">[<a href="#pb145">145</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Another belief about the night connects it with the spirits. The <i>Lau</i> (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 <i lang="gac">lau-ot-ǰulu</i>, from a stem <i lang="gac">-ǰulu</i> meaning “cold.” They were only acquainted with cloth through seeing it used by the
+aliens who visited their shores, and whom they called spirits (<i>Lau</i>).
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman thunder and lightning are commonly personified. The lightning
+is <i>Ele</i> or <i>Ali</i>, and the thunder is <i>Korude</i> or <i>Korule</i>. Some of the natives spoke of <i>Mimi Ele</i> (female) and others of <i>Maia Ele</i> (male). He lives in the sky, which is regarded as being made of stone (or rock) and
+is called <i>tau-meo</i> (the sky-stone). The lightning is due to his shaking his foot. One rather obscure
+statement was to the effect that <i>Ele</i> spends most of his time asleep or lying down and doing nothing. When the weather
+gets bad <i>Lato</i> (a being that I could not identify), comes and worries <i>Ele</i> and wakes him up. Then <i>Ele</i> gets angry and shakes his leg. This is the lightning.
+</p>
+<p>Thunder (<i>Korude</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>An entirely different explanation of thunder and lightning, which is found in all
+the tribes, is that they are made by two beings named <i>Tarai</i> and <i>Biliku</i>, to be described later on in this chapter.
+</p>
+<p>I never heard the rain (<i lang="gac">ǰiče̱r</i>) spoken of as a person in the same way as thunder and lightning. One explanation
+of rain is that the sky-stone (<i>tau-meo</i>) gets cold, and this turns the mist (<i>milite</i>) 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 <i lang="gac">Čaitoŋ</i>, who seems to be female and lives in the sky. I could not obtain any satisfactory
+information about her.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb146">[<a href="#pb146">146</a>]</span>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 <i>Aka-Bea</i> word for the rainbow, <i lang="gac">pidga-l’ar-čauga</i>, he says “The root <i>pidga</i> (a rainbow) must not be confounded with the root <i>pidga</i> ‘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.’ <i lang="gac">Pidga-l’ar-čauga</i> means ‘the rainbow (bridge) by which the spirits (cross)’<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e7902src" href="#xd33e7902" title="Go to note 8.">8</a>.” Mr Portman is in error. The word <i>pidga</i> 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 <i>pidga</i>. 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
+<i>pidga</i> in <i>Aka-Bea</i>, <i>peta</i> in <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i>, <i>pir</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>, 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 <i>Aka-Bea</i> would have <i>pidga</i> meaning “a kind of cane” and <i>pidga</i> meaning “a rainbow.” <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> would have <i>pir</i> meaning “cane” and <i>pir</i> meaning “rainbow.”
+</p>
+<p>The rainbow is generally regarded as an evil omen, being believed to be a precursor
+of sickness. One <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> statement is that it is made by a being called <i lang="gac">To̱lito̱ŋ</i> and that when it appears somebody will be ill.
+</p>
+<p>The only explanation of the tides that I heard was to the effect that they are caused
+by a fish, a species of <i lang="la">Tetrodon</i>, called <i lang="gac">čolmo</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> and <i>pit</i> in <i>Aka-Kede</i>, which drinks up the water and then lets it out again.
+</p>
+<p>The Andaman Islands are occasionally visited by earthquakes. An <i>Aka-Kede</i> 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 <i>Kimil</i>, which is the name of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb147">[<a href="#pb147">147</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">po̱ro̱to</i> (<i lang="la">Caryota sobolifera</i>).
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i>, <i>Bilik</i> or <i>Puluga</i>, and <i>Tarai</i>, <i>Teriya</i>, or <i>Daria</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>The first belief in which there is entire unanimity is that of the connection of <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> with the two chief winds that are known in the Andamans. <i>Biliku</i> lives in the north-east and is connected with the north-east monsoon. <i>Tarai</i> 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:—
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<thead>
+<tr class="label">
+<td class="cell-head-left cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">Language </td>
+<td class="cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">N.E. Wind </td>
+<td class="cell-head-right cell-head-top cell-head-bottom">S.W. Wind
+</td>
+</tr>
+</thead>
+<tbody>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i>Aka-Cari, Aka-Bo, Aka-Kora, Aka-Jeru</i> </td>
+<td><i>Biliku boto</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i>Tarai boto</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i>Oko-Juwoi, Aka-Kol</i> and <i>A-Pucikwar</i> </td>
+<td><i>Bilik to</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i>Teriya</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><i>Akar-Bale</i> </td>
+<td><i>Puluga toa</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"><i>Daria</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><i>Aka-Bea</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"><i>Puluga ta</i> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom"><i>Deria</i></td>
+</tr>
+</tbody>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>In the Northern tribes the word <i lang="gac">bo̱to</i> means “wind.” <i lang="gac">Biliku bo̱to</i> must be translated “the <i>Biliku</i> wind,” and <i lang="gac">Tarai bo̱to</i> is similarly “the <i>Tarai</i> wind.” It would be incorrect to translate the name <i lang="gac">Biliku bo̱to</i> as “the wind of <i>Biliku</i>,” for this would be rendered in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> by <i lang="gac">Biliku ičo bo̱to</i>. In <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> the south-west wind is called <i>Teriya</i> 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 <i>Ele</i> (lightning). On the other hand the north-east wind is called not <i>Bilik</i> but <i lang="gac">Bilik to̱</i>. The same thing occurs also in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> and <i>Aka-Bea</i> languages.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb148">[<a href="#pb148">148</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Mr Portman translates the <i>Aka-Bea</i> term <i>Puluga ta</i> as “God’s wind,” and he adds, in explanation, “<i>Puluga ta</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e8104src" href="#xd33e8104" title="Go to note 9.">9</a>.” As regards the translation of the Andamanese name <i>Puluga</i> by the English “God” more will be said later. Leaving that aside, it is important
+to note that <i>Puluga ta</i> does not mean “<i>Puluga’s</i> wind.” The word for wind in <i>Aka-Bea</i> is given by Mr Portman himself as <i lang="gac">wul-ŋa</i>, and the <i>Akar-Bale</i> and <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> equivalents are <i lang="gac">poat-ŋa</i> and <i lang="gac">po̱te</i>, being forms of the same stem as the Northern <i lang="gac">bo̱to</i>. The translation of “<i>Puluga’s</i> wind” in <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> would be <i lang="gac">Bilik l’iye po̱te</i>, but this is not a phrase that the natives ever use. It is not possible to translate
+“<i>Puluga’s</i> wind” accurately in <i>Akar-Bale</i>. <i lang="gac">Puluga poat-ŋa</i> would mean “<i>Puluga</i> blowing” the <i lang="gac">-ŋa</i> being a verbal ending. In any case <i lang="gac">Bilik to̱</i>, and <i>Puluga toa</i> are not to be translated as meaning “<i>Puluga’s</i> wind.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Puluga</i> in the sky are very far from vague. The natives all agree that <i>Puluga</i> or <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Puluga-l’ar-mugu</i>, meaning “the side that faces <i>Puluga</i>,” from <i>ar-mugu</i> meaning “front” or “face.”
+</p>
+<p>There are two matters, then, on which there is absolute unanimity in all the tribes
+of the Great Andaman, one being the connection of <i>Biliku</i> (or <i>Puluga</i>) with the north-east and of <i>Tarai</i> (or <i>Deria</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>The connection of these two beings with winds is shown in another way in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb149">[<a href="#pb149">149</a>]</span>called <i>Teriya</i>. The other division contains all the other winds, and they are collectively denoted
+by the term <i>Bilik</i>. They are distinguished by names, as <i lang="gac">J̌ila Bilik</i> (the east <i>Bilik</i>, from <i lang="gac">ǰila</i>, east)<span id="xd33e8210">,</span> <i lang="gac">Ko̱ico Bilik</i> (the west <i>Bilik</i>), <i lang="gac">Me̱tepur Bilik</i>, <i lang="gac">Čo̱liatum Bilik</i>, <i>Rartear Bilik</i>, and <i lang="gac">Ko̱ičor-to̱ŋ Bilik</i>. Here we find the name <i>Bilik</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> tribe.
+</p>
+<p>Even in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe something of the same kind is found. One <i>Akar-Bale</i> man said that <i>Puluga</i> has two brothers, <i lang="gac">J̌ila Puluga</i> (East <i>Puluga</i>) and <i lang="gac">Koaičo Puluga</i> (West <i>Puluga</i>); the one sends all the easterly winds and the other all the westerly ones.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The south-west wind (properly speaking W.S.W.) is identified, as we have seen with
+<i>Tarai</i> (<i>Deria</i>). Although <i>Biliku</i> (<i>Puluga</i>) is specially connected with the north-east wind, yet all the winds other than the
+south-west are commonly supposed to be sent by <i>Biliku</i>. Thus we have seen that in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe the different winds are named, each of them (with the exception of the south-west)
+being a <i>Bilik</i>.
+</p>
+<p>It comes about, in this way, that the year is divided into two portions, one of which
+is specially connected with <i>Biliku</i> (<i>Puluga</i>), while the other is specially connected with <i>Tarai</i> (<i>Deria</i>). These two seasons are not quite of equal length. The <i>Tarai</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and are divided into three portions, (1) the stormy season of October <span class="pageNum" id="pb150">[<a href="#pb150">150</a>]</span>and November, (2) the cold season of December to February, and (3) the hot season
+of March and April.
+</p>
+<p>There are many points relating to <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> about which there is no general agreement amongst the tribes, or, in some cases,
+even within the same tribe. In the North Andaman <i>Biliku</i> is regarded as female, and is called <i>Mimi Biliku</i>, while <i>Tarai</i> is male and is called <i>Maia Tarai</i>. This is so in all the four tribes, <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>, <i>Aka-Bo</i>, <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>. A statement that is frequently made by the natives of these tribes is that <i>Tarai</i> and <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> in the Northern tribes I reproduce a few extracts from my note-books written down
+exactly as they were given to me.
+</p>
+<p>(1) <i>Biliku</i> is the wife of <i>Tarai</i> and they have a child named <i lang="gac">Perǰido</i>. (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.)
+</p>
+<p>(2) <i>Biliku</i> is the wife of <i>Tarai</i>. Their children are the sun and moon. (Heard only once.)
+</p>
+<p>(3) The husband of <i>Biliku</i> is <i lang="gac">Perǰido</i> and her children are <i>Totaimo</i>, <i>Mite</i> (cicada) and <i>Tarai</i>.
+</p>
+<p>(4) <i>Biliku</i> is unmarried, but she has a son <i lang="gac">Perǰido</i>, and her other children are <i lang="gac">To̱ro̱i</i>, <i lang="gac">Čelene</i>, <i lang="gac">Čoto̱t</i>, and <i lang="gac">Čerei</i>. These four are the names of birds.
+</p>
+<p>(5) <i>Biliku</i> is the wife of <i>Tarai</i>. Their children are <i lang="gac">To̱ro̱i</i>, <i>Taka</i>, <i lang="gac">Čoto̱t</i>, <i lang="gac">Poruato̱ko</i>, <i>Kelil</i>, <i lang="gac">Co̱pcura</i>, <i>Benye</i>, <i>Biratkoro</i>, <i lang="gac">Čereo</i>, <i>Milidu</i>, <i>Bobelo</i>, <i lang="gac">Ko̱lo</i>. These are all names of birds.
+</p>
+<p>(6) <i>Biliku</i> has a husband <i lang="gac">To̱ro̱i</i> (a bird). <i>Tarai</i> has a wife <i>Kelil</i> (a bird).
+</p>
+<p>In the <i>Aka-Kede</i> tribe the most common statement, at any rate in the northern part of the tribe, is
+that <i>Bilika</i> is female, and that <i>Tarai</i> is male. One <i>Aka-Kede</i> man, from the southern part of the tribe said that <i>Bilika</i> was male.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> and <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribes <i>Bilik</i> is generally spoken of as being male, and <i>Teriya</i> is also male. Other versions from these tribes are as follows:—
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb151">[<a href="#pb151">151</a>]</span></p>
+<p>(1) <i>Bilik</i> is female and <i>Teriya</i> is her husband. Their children are the winds, <i lang="gac">Čoliatum Bilik</i>, <i lang="gac">Me̱tepur Bilik</i>, and <i lang="gac">Wo̱ičo-l’arpat Bilik</i>.
+</p>
+<p>(2) There is a male <i>Bilik</i> and a female <i>Bilik</i>, who are husband and wife. Their children are <i lang="gac">Ko̱ičo̱r-to̱ŋ Bilik</i>, <i lang="gac">Ko̱ičo Bilik</i>, <i>Jila Bilik</i>, <i lang="gac">Me̱tepur Bilik</i>, <i>Rartear Bilik</i>, and <i>Teriya</i>. These are the winds.
+</p>
+<p>(3) <i>Bilik</i> is male. His wife is <i lang="gac">In Čaria</i>, and their children are <i>Kao</i> (prawn) and <i lang="gac">Mo̱rua</i> (the sky).
+</p>
+<p>In the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe the most usual statement is that both <i>Puluga</i> and <i>Daria</i> are male, and this was apparently also the common belief of the <i>Aka-Bea</i>.
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman the name <i>Biliku</i> is also the word for “spider,” but no meaning (save as the name of the mythical being)
+was discovered for the name <i>Tarai</i>. In the South and Middle Andaman no meaning was discovered, either for the name <i>Bilik</i> or <i>Puluga</i>, or for the name <i>Teriya</i> or <i>Deria</i>. 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 <i>Öluga</i>. The monitor lizard is also called <i>öluga</i> in the language of the Little Andaman. It is obvious, however, that the names <i>Biliku</i>, <i>Puluga</i>, <i>Öluga</i> are all of them different forms of the same word.
+</p>
+<p>As we have already seen, it is <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> who send the winds. <i>Tarai</i> sends the south-west wind, which brings the rain. <i>Biliku</i> sends the other winds which bring either fine weather, or, at times, violent storms.
+One <i>Akar-Bale</i> account of the matter (literally translated as told to me) is as follows. “Once upon
+a time <i>Puluga</i> and <i>Daria</i> were great friends, but they quarrelled. <i>Puluga</i> said that he was the bigger (more important). <i>Daria</i> said that he was. So now they are always quarrelling. <i>Puluga</i> sends the wind for one period. Then <i>Daria</i> sends his wind.”
+</p>
+<p>According to the statement of an <i>Akar-Bale</i> man, <i>Puluga</i> makes the wind by fanning with a very large <i lang="gac">kwar-toŋ</i> leaf.
+</p>
+<p>Rain and thunder and lightning that come with the south-west wind are believed to
+be due to <i>Tarai</i>. Storms that come <span class="pageNum" id="pb152">[<a href="#pb152">152</a>]</span>during the season connected with <i>Biliku</i> are made by <i>Biliku</i> and are due to her anger. When a big storm comes the natives say “<i>Biliku</i> is angry.” Lightning is explained as being a fire-brand thrown by <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>be</i> in the North Andaman, thrown by <i>Biliku</i>, the bright flash of the mother-of-pearl being seen as it crosses the sky. Still
+another statement from the North Andaman is that <i>Biliku</i> makes the lightning by striking a pearl-shell (<i>be</i>) against a stone.
+</p>
+<p>Although <i>Biliku</i> is generally mentioned when a native is asked about lightning, yet <i>Tarai</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> was getting angry about something, and was corrected by him with “No, that is <i>Tarai</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>There are a certain number of actions that are believed by the natives to arouse the
+anger of <i>Biliku</i> (<i>Puluga</i>), and thereby cause storms. There are three of these that are of importance.
+</p>
+<p>(1) Burning or melting bees’-wax.
+</p>
+<p>(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.
+</p>
+<p>(3) The use of certain articles of food, of which the chief are the seeds of the <i lang="la">Entada scandens</i>, the pith of the <i lang="la">Caryota sobolifera</i>, two species of <i lang="la">Dioscorea</i> (yam), and certain edible roots, of which may be mentioned those called in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru<span id="xd33e8621">,</span> labo, mikulu, ǰi</i> and <i lang="gac">lo̱ito</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> or <i>Puluga</i> and so brings bad weather.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb153">[<a href="#pb153">153</a>]</span>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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Kimil</i> season in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i>Caryota sobolifera</i>, or pluck or eat the seeds of the <i>Entada pursœtha</i>, or gather yams or other edible roots, another deluge would be the consequence, for
+<i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Entada pursœtha</i>, which may be collected and eaten at any time with impunity. Another of the offences
+visited by <i>Puluga</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e8657src" href="#xd33e8657" title="Go to note 10.">10</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>It must be noted that it is not only the “burning,” but also the melting of bees’-wax
+that angers <i>Puluga</i>. 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 <i>Caryota</i> palm is not ripe <span class="pageNum" id="pb154">[<a href="#pb154">154</a>]</span>and is uneatable, and the only available seeds of the <i>Entada</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>. 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 <i>Entada</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>In all the tribes of the Great Andaman I found a belief that <i>Biliku</i> or <i>Puluga</i> 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
+<i>Puluga</i>, 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 (<i>mite</i>) is commonly spoken of as the “child” of <i>Biliku</i>, <i>Biliku ot-tire</i>.
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man refers to this custom. In one place he says that the first parents of the Andamanese
+were told by <i>Puluga</i> “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 <i>butu</i>, which are under <i>Puluga’s</i> special protection. Any noise, such as working (<i>kopke</i>) with an adze, would cause the <i>butu’s</i> head to ache, and that would be a serious matter. During the <span class="pageNum" id="pb155">[<a href="#pb155">155</a>]</span>cold and dry seasons work may be carried on day and night, as the <i>butu</i> is then seldom seen, and cannot be disturbed<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e8709src" href="#xd33e8709" title="Go to note 11.">11</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>The <i>butu</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e8720src" href="#xd33e8720" title="Go to note 12.">12</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Puluga</i>, 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
+<i>Puluga</i> or <i>Biliku</i>, and so bringing a storm.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb156">[<a href="#pb156">156</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i>. In the North Andaman <i>Biliku</i> is supposed to be angry if any one kills a <i>biliku</i> (spider)<span id="xd33e8746">,</span> a <i>reo</i> (a species of insect making a noise like a cicada, during the daytime, which I often
+heard, but never saw), or a <i lang="gac">čatlo</i> (a species of beetle). There is also a bird, which I was not able to identify, called
+<i lang="gac">to̱ro̱i</i>, which belongs to <i>Biliku</i> and may not be killed.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe it is said that two species of fish, called <i>unakoro</i> and <i>liwat</i> belong to Bilik and may not be killed. A mollusc, called <i>towa</i>, also belongs to <i>Bilik</i>, and is for that reason never eaten. A bird called <i>Bilik-l’ar-dala</i> (probably the same bird that is called <i lang="gac">to̱ro̱i</i> in the North Andaman) may not be killed.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe I was told that two kinds of wood, <i>bukura</i> and <i>worago</i>, must not be used for firewood, for fear of offending <i>Puluga</i>, to whom they belong. <i>Bukura</i> is a species of <i lang="la">Diospyros</i> (ebony).
+</p>
+<p>The only punishment that <i>Biliku</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb157">[<a href="#pb157">157</a>]</span><i>Biliku</i>. One means of doing this is to throw the leaves of the <i>Mimusops littoralis</i> in the fire. These leaves explode with the heating of the juices and make a crackling
+or popping noise, which it is said that <i>Biliku</i> dislikes. I believe, however, that if any one were thus to burn <i>Mimusops</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku’s</i> anger.
+</p>
+<p>The question of the Andamanese beliefs about storms is complicated by the fact that
+although all storms are said to be made by <i>Puluga</i> or <i>Biliku</i>, yet there is an alternative and contradictory belief that storms are made by the
+spirits of the sea (<i lang="gac">J̌urua</i>). It is said that if a piece of the <i>Anadendron paniculatum</i> creeper were to be burnt there would be a great cyclone, but this appears to be associated,
+not with <i>Biliku</i>, but with the spirits of the sea. It will be shown later that there is a special
+connection between the <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i> 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 <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i> and not with <i>Biliku</i>. The same is probably the case with a belief that rain will come if a <i>Ficus laccifera</i> tree be damaged.
+</p>
+<p>Some of the methods used to stop storms are also probably connected with the spirits
+and not with <i>Biliku</i>. One such method is to go into the sea and swish arrows about in the water. One <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> (medicine-man) of the North Andaman is reputed to have stopped a big cyclone by taking
+a few pieces of <i>Anadendron paniculatum</i> and crushing them, and then diving into the sea and placing the crushed creeper under
+a stone. An <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i>Ficus laccifera</i> (<i lang="gac">reŋko</i>) under a rock in the sea.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Puluga</i> as a “Supreme Being” and says that some of the beliefs of the Andamanese relating
+to him “approximate closely to the true <span class="pageNum" id="pb158">[<a href="#pb158">158</a>]</span>faith concerning the Deity.” Mr Portman, following Mr Man, in this as in many other
+matters, translates the name <i>Puluga</i> by the English word “God.” Mr Man’s statements are as follows:—
+</p>
+<p>“Of <i>Puluga</i> they say that—
+</p>
+<p>“I. Though His appearance is like fire, yet He is (nowadays) invisible.
+</p>
+<p>“II. He was never born and is immortal.
+</p>
+<p>“III. By him the world and all objects, animate and inanimate were created, excepting
+only the powers of evil.
+</p>
+<p>“IV. He is regarded as omniscient while it is day, knowing even the thoughts of their
+hearts.
+</p>
+<p>“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.
+</p>
+<p>“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 <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i> is said to affect their course of action in the present life.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Puluga</i> 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, <i lang="gac">Čana Aulola</i> (Mother Fresh-water Shrimp), and <i lang="gac">Čana Palak</i> (Mother Eel); by her he has a large family, all, except the eldest, being girls;
+these last, known as <i>morowin</i> (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. <i>Puluga</i>’s son is called <i lang="gac">Piǰčor</i>: 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 <i>morowin</i>.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Puluga</i> 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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb159">[<a href="#pb159">159</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e8903src" href="#xd33e8903" title="Go to note 13.">13</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man’s comparison between the Andamanese belief in <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Deria</i> (<i>Tarai</i>), nor does he mention the association of <i>Puluga</i> with the north-east.
+</p>
+<p>As regards the personal appearance of <i>Puluga</i>, the statements of different informants are not in agreement. One <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> man described <i>Bilik</i> 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
+<i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> type.
+</p>
+<p>The legends connecting <i>Puluga</i> with the creation of the world will be given in the next chapter.
+</p>
+<p>I am not able to confirm Mr Man’s statement that <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i>) 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 <i>Puluga</i> will not notice that the yam has been taken. Whenever they do any of the things that
+displease <i>Puluga</i>, they seem to believe that there is a possibility that <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i> knows “everything” may be equally well translated “<i>Puluga</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man says that <i>Puluga</i> “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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb160">[<a href="#pb160">160</a>]</span>measure, be demonstrated by the fact of their possessing a word, <i>yub-da</i>, 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 <i>Puluga-la</i>, the Creator<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e8962src" href="#xd33e8962" title="Go to note 14.">14</a>.” 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 <i>Puluga</i>. The only actions at which <i>Puluga</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The Andamanese beliefs connected with the life after death will be described later
+in the present chapter.
+</p>
+<p>As regards the “stone house” in which <i>Puluga</i> is said to live, this really means, I believe, a cave. In the North Andaman <i>Biliku</i> is frequently spoken of as living in a cave (<i lang="gac">e̱ra-poŋ</i>). Also, it may be recalled, the sky is generally regarded as consisting of stone
+or rock, and it is in the sky the <i>Puluga</i> lives.
+</p>
+<p>The son of <i>Puluga</i>, mentioned by Mr Man, <i lang="gac">Piǰčor</i>, is a being about whom I was able to learn very little. In the North Andaman the
+same being is named <i lang="gac">Perǰido</i>, and is said to be the son of <i>Biliku</i>. The <i>Morowin</i>, whom Mr Man describes as the daughters of <i>Puluga</i>, are sky spirits. The most usual belief in the South Andaman is that there are both
+male and female <i>Morowin</i>. They are beings of somewhat the same nature as the jungle spirits and the sea spirits.
+An <i>Akar-Bale</i> informant told me, “The <i>Morua</i> 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 <i lang="gac">baǰa</i> (<i>Sterculia</i>) trees, but now they live in the sky.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> belief, connecting the danger with the spirits of the sky has just been mentioned.
+Mr Man’s version of the matter is as follows:— <span class="pageNum" id="pb161">[<a href="#pb161">161</a>]</span>“… there is a company of evil spirits who are called <i lang="gac">čol</i>, and who are much dreaded. They are believed to be descendants of <i lang="gac">Maia Čol</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i>, who therefore, often assists them in discovering the delinquent; the same risk does
+not attend <i>boiling</i> pork, which the olfactory nerves of the fastidious <i lang="gac">čol</i> are not keen enough to detect. While the Andamanese say that they are liable to be
+struck by <i><span id="xd33e9033">E̱rem-čauga-la</span></i> or <i lang="gac">J̌uruwin</i> at any time or in any place, the <i lang="gac">čol</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9042src" href="#xd33e9042" title="Go to note 15.">15</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>It may be remarked that <i lang="gac">Čol</i> is the name of a species of bird (probably the racket-tailed drongo), which is named
+from its call—<i lang="gac">čol, čol, čol</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">čol</i> (the birds, that is) and the sky-spirits, <i>Morowin</i> or <i>Morua</i>, but I was not able to satisfy myself on the point. The connection of them both with
+<i>Puluga</i> is still more obscure.
+</p>
+<p>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, “<i>Puluga</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Čol</i>, one of whom forthwith despatches the unfortunate individual<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9072src" href="#xd33e9072" title="Go to note 16.">16</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>I was not able to find any evidence that <i>Puluga</i> is believed to be angry if a pig is badly quartered. From the natives with <span class="pageNum" id="pb162">[<a href="#pb162">162</a>]</span>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 <i>Puluga</i> or <i>Biliku</i>.
+</p>
+<p>In general it may be said that the natives believe that the only punishment that <i>Puluga</i> or <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Puluga</i> to divert its course by shouting ‘<i lang="gac">Wara-J̌obo kopke, kopke, kopke</i>’ (<i lang="gac">Wara-J̌obo</i> will bite, bite, bite (you)). If in spite of this a shower falls they imagine that
+<i>Puluga</i> is undeterred by their warning<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9104src" href="#xd33e9104" title="Go to note 17.">17</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>It is clear from the above discussion of the matter that there is not any complete
+agreement in the beliefs concerning <i>Puluga</i> (<i>Biliku</i>) 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 <i>Puluga</i> and <i>Daria</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i>, 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 <i>Puluga</i>.
+</p>
+<p>We have seen that the Andamanese believe in two different kinds of what may be called,
+for want of a better term, supernatural <span class="pageNum" id="pb163">[<a href="#pb163">163</a>]</span>beings. In the first place there are the spirits, the <i>Lau</i> or <i lang="gac">Čauga</i>, and the <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i>, 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 (<i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>). 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 <i>Biliku</i>. This is a point that will be referred to again in a later chapter.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Nila</i> or <i>Ńila</i>. This is the name of an evil being who is supposed to live in hollow <i>Pterocarpus</i> trees. When he smells human beings near his tree he comes out and kills them with
+his knife. I found this belief in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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 <i>Nila</i> is supposed to live in ant-hills, and to have neither wife nor child; he is not regarded
+as such a malevolent personage as <i lang="gac">Erem-čauga-la</i>, 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9161src" href="#xd33e9161" title="Go to note 18.">18</a>.” Mr Man adds, in a footnote that “cases have been cited of persons who have been
+found stabbed, whose deaths have been attributed to <i>Nila</i>: the possibility of the individuals in question having been murdered is scouted.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Nila</i>.
+</p>
+<p>As throwing some additional light on the way in which the Andamanese think of the
+supernatural beings that have been <span class="pageNum" id="pb164">[<a href="#pb164">164</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>The performer was a man named <i>Kobo</i>. 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 (<i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>). 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb165">[<a href="#pb165">165</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.”
+</p>
+<p>Some of these dances I was able to understand even without explanation. One of them
+represented <i>Biliku</i>. 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 (<i>be</i>) but a <i>Cyrena</i> shell (<i>bun</i>), but I believe that this was because there was no pearl-shell available. The representation
+of <i>Biliku</i> was thus reduced to a single gesture, that of threatening the natives with her pearl-shell
+(lightning).
+</p>
+<p>Another dance represented the jungle spirits (<i lang="gac">Bido-teč Lau</i>). In this he first hid himself behind a screen of <i>bido</i> leaves (<i>Calamus tigrinus</i>) that had been prepared, singing a song. The leaves represented a clump of the <i>Calamus</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb166">[<a href="#pb166">166</a>]</span>out with a bow and arrow in his hand, and as he danced in front of the spectators
+he pretended to shoot at them.
+</p>
+<p>In another dance he represented <i>Ele</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>We may now turn to the Andamanese beliefs relating to the soul and the life after
+death.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i lang="gac">ot-ǰumulo</i> means “reflection,” and also “shadow,” and is also nowadays applied to a photograph.
+The word <i lang="gac">ot-ǰumu</i>, in the same languages, means “a dream” or “to dream.” We may perhaps translate the
+word <i lang="gac">ot-ǰumulo</i> as meaning “soul.” In the <i>Aka-Bea</i> language <i>ot-yolo</i> is “reflection,” while there is a different word, <i>ot-diya</i> or <i>ot-lere</i>, for “shadow,” and neither of the words has any connection with the word “dream”
+which is <i>taraba</i>. Mr Man translates the word <i>ot-yolo</i> as “soul.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb167">[<a href="#pb167">167</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="gac">ot-ǰumulo</i>) 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 <i lang="gac">ot-ǰumulo</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">ot-ǰumulo</i> or double of the sleeper may be wandering far from his body, and to waken him suddenly
+might cause him to be ill.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> (dreamers). However, an ordinary individual may occasionally have dreams of this
+kind.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i>lau</i> or <i lang="gac">čauga</i>). By death a man ceases to exist as a man, and begins a new existence as a spirit.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb168">[<a href="#pb168">168</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Lau</i> 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 <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i>.” A second account, varying from the above in only one particular, is also from one
+of the Northern tribes (<i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>). “When a man dies he becomes a <i>Lau</i> or a <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i> and lives with the other spirits. If he be a jungle-dweller he becomes a <i>Lau</i> and lives in the jungle. If he be a coast-dweller he becomes a <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i> and lives in the sea. All the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> become <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i> when they die. The spirit stays in his own country. The spirits of a man’s own country
+(whether <i>Lau</i> or <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i>) are friendly to him, but those of another country are dangerous and will make him
+ill.”
+</p>
+<p>An entirely different statement frequently made to me by men of the Northern tribes
+is that when a man dies the spirit (<i>Lau</i>) either immediately, or after the lapse of some time, goes to another world that
+lies under this one and is called <i>Maramiku</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb169">[<a href="#pb169">169</a>]</span>statements are as follows: “When a man dies his <i lang="gac">ot-ǰumulo</i> (double) goes up to the sky and becomes a <i>Lau</i> (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.
+</p>
+<p>Turning now to the Southern tribes, one informant of the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Lau-l’uŋ-ciŋ</i> (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 <i lang="gac">Puta-ko̱iča</i>, 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).”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Tomo</i>. This <i>Tomo</i>, 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 <i>Tomo</i> is always there. The spirits always have plenty of pork and turtle, and spend their
+time dancing and enjoying themselves.
+</p>
+<p>One old man of the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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 <i>Lau</i> but <i>Bilik</i>. He told me how he had been visited in a dream by <i lang="gac">Bo̱ičo Bilik</i>; that is by the spirit of one <i lang="gac">Bo̱ičo</i> who had, when he lived, been a great medicine-man, and who, now that he was dead,
+had become a <i>Bilik</i>, as distinguished from an ordinary <i>Lau</i>. It is the <i>Bilik</i> who control the weather. They can also cause or cure sickness in living men. The
+<i lang="gac">Bo̱ičo</i> mentioned above was alive when my informant was a young man.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe one man told me that the breath (<i>ig-peti</i>) of a dying person goes up to the sky and becomes <span class="pageNum" id="pb170">[<a href="#pb170">170</a>]</span>a spirit. Another belief of the same tribe is that the spirits of the dead go to <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i>, 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
+<i>Aka-Bea</i>, and then returns to <i lang="gac">Gudna-l’ar-boŋ</i> in <i lang="gac">Kuaičo-bur</i> (in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> country). It then goes to <i lang="gac">J̌ila-buaro</i> in <i lang="gac">J̌ila</i> (East Island) and from there to <i>Kere-tuaur</i>. The inhabitants of the last-named place are warned of the approach of the spirit
+by the cries of the birds <i>tao</i> (<i lang="la">Eudynamis honorata</i>, Indian koel or brain-fever bird) and <i>bil</i> (Australian goggle-eyed plover). At one time the people of <i lang="gac">Luŋ-tauar</i> used to catch the spirits in big nets made for the purpose. They were taught to do
+this by a wise woman named <i>In Golat</i>. The spirits try to run away, but they get caught at the place called <i>Guamo-leber</i>. The people then throw them into the sea, and they (the spirits) then go to <i lang="gac">Čauga-l’uŋ-jiŋa</i> (Spirit’s Home) and remain there.” The above is given exactly as it was translated
+to me by an <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>To these various accounts from the natives themselves, must be added the description
+of the beliefs of the <i>Aka-Bea</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb171">[<a href="#pb171">171</a>]</span>flat and to rest on an immense palm-tree (<i>Caryota sobolifera</i>) called <i>barata</i>, which stands in the midst of a jungle comprising the whole area under the earth.
+This jungle, <i lang="gac">čaitan</i> (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
+(<i lang="gac">čauga</i>) of the departed are sent by <i>Puluga</i> to await the Resurrection.
+</p>
+<p>“No change takes place in <i lang="gac">čaitan</i> 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 <i lang="gac">čaitan</i>, but as there is no sea there, the <i lang="gac">čauga</i> of fish and turtle remain in their native element and are preyed upon by <i lang="gac">ǰuruwin</i>. The spirits (<i lang="gac">čauga</i>) and souls (<i>ot-yolo</i>) of all children who die before they cease to be entirely dependent on their parents
+(i.e. under six years of age) go to <i lang="gac">čaitan</i>, and are placed under a <i>rau</i> tree (<i>Ficus laccifera</i>) on the fruit of which they subsist. As none can quit <i lang="gac">čaitan</i> who have once entered, they support their stories regarding it by a tradition that
+in ages long past an <i>oko-paiad</i> was favoured in a dream with a vision of the regions and of the pursuits of the disembodied
+spirits.
+</p>
+<p>“Between the earth and the eastern sky there stretches an invisible cane bridge (<i lang="gac">pidga-l’ar-čauga</i>) which steadies the former and connects it with <i lang="gac">ǰereg</i> (paradise); over this bridge the souls (<i>ot-yolo</i>) of the departed pass into paradise, or to <i lang="gac">ǰereg-l’ar-mugu</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>“In serious illness the sufferer’s spirit (<i lang="gac">čauga</i>) 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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb172">[<a href="#pb172">172</a>]</span>it is the soul which, having taken its departure through the nostrils, sees or is
+engaged in the manner represented to the sleeper.
+</p>
+<p>“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 <i lang="gac">ǰereg-l’ar-mugu</i>.
+</p>
+<p>“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.
+</p>
+<p>“This blissful state will be inaugurated by a great earthquake, which, occurring by
+<i>Puluga’s</i> command, will break the <i lang="gac">pidga-l’ar-čauga</i> and cause the earth to turn over: all alive at the time will perish, exchanging places
+with their deceased ancestors<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9505src" href="#xd33e9505" title="Go to note 19.">19</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Owing to the importance attaching to all Mr Man’s statements it is necessary to examine
+critically the account transcribed <span class="pageNum" id="pb173">[<a href="#pb173">173</a>]</span>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
+<i>ot-yolo</i> (reflection) here translated “soul,” and <i lang="gac">čauga</i> translated “spirit.” The difference is this, that a man, while he is still alive,
+<i>has</i> a “double” or “soul” if the latter word be preferred, while when he is dead he <i>becomes</i> a spirit. Thus the spirit is not a part of a man while he is alive. The word <i lang="gac">čauga</i> (or <i>lau</i>) 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” (<i lang="gac">čauga-ta</i>) 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 <i lang="gac">čauga</i> as meaning spirit, but there does not seem to be any other convenient English word.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="gac">J̌ereg</i> or <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i>) while his spirit goes elsewhere (to <i lang="gac">Čaitan</i>). In the case of children however, Mr Man makes a difference, for both the souls
+and spirits of children go to <i lang="gac">Čaitan</i>. Mr Man compares <i lang="gac">Čaitan</i> to Hades, <i lang="gac">J̌ereg</i> to paradise and <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i> to purgatory.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Čaitan</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9564src" href="#xd33e9564" title="Go to note 20.">20</a>. Other informants seem to have spoken of [<i>vJ]ereg</i> or <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i>. I think it improbable that any one native should have stated, as Mr Man’s account
+would seem to imply, that the <i>soul</i> of a dead <span class="pageNum" id="pb174">[<a href="#pb174">174</a>]</span>man goes to one place, while the man himself (now a <i>spirit</i>) goes somewhere else. Mr Man’s description of <i lang="gac">Čaitan</i> corresponds almost exactly to the descriptions given to me by the <i>Akar-Bale</i> and <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> of <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i>, and to the descriptions of <i>Maramiku</i> given by the Northern tribes. If <i lang="gac">Čaitan</i> be really an <i>Aka-Bea</i> word, it would seem to be only another name for <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9607src" href="#xd33e9607" title="Go to note 21.">21</a>. 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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> and <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribes I did not hear of <i lang="gac">J̌ereg</i> as a distinct place from <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i>. The latter name is of course a compound, from <i>ar-mugu</i> = front, and might mean either “the place fronting or facing <i lang="gac">J̌ereg</i>” or “the place <i lang="gac">J̌ereg</i>, fronting us.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man states that the souls and spirits of young children go to <i lang="gac">Čaitan</i> where they subsist on the fruit of a <i>rau</i> tree (<i>Ficus laccifera</i>). In the North Andaman I found a belief that the souls of children, before they are
+born, live in the <i>Ficus</i> 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 <i>Ficus</i> tree in <i lang="gac">Čaitan</i> may really refer to real fig trees on earth.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb175">[<a href="#pb175">175</a>]</span>associated with <i>Puluga</i> or <i>Biliku</i>. All the versions that I heard, however, referred to the past and not to the future<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9655src" href="#xd33e9655" title="Go to note 22.">22</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>There are, amongst the Andamanese, certain individuals who are distinguished from
+their fellows by the supposed possession of supernatural powers. These specially favoured
+persons <span class="pageNum" id="pb176">[<a href="#pb176">176</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>, meaning literally “dreamer” or “one who speaks from dreams” from a stem <i lang="gac">-ǰumu</i> the primary meaning of which refers to the phenomena of dreams. In <i>Aka-Bea</i> the corresponding term is <i>oko-paiad</i>, and according to Mr Man, this term also means “dreamer.” Mr Portman, however, gives
+<i>taraba</i> as the <i>Aka-Bea</i> word for “dream” or “to dream.”
+</p>
+<p>According to a statement by Mr Man, only men can possess the powers that entitle them
+to be regarded as <i>oko-paiad</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9691src" href="#xd33e9691" title="Go to note 23.">23</a>. 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> or <i>oko-paiad</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>At the present time it is no longer possible to obtain full and satisfactory information
+on this subject. Most of the old <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> and <i>oko-paiad</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Lau</i> or <i lang="gac">Čauga</i>). 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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb177">[<a href="#pb177">177</a>]</span>he is, by that adventure, endowed with the power that makes a medicine-man. One man
+of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i> 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 <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>, 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9727src" href="#xd33e9727" title="Go to note 24.">24</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>. 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 (<i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i>) which had, so he said, been placed on him by the spirits. This man had a reputation
+as a powerful <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>.
+</p>
+<p>In a less degree the powers of an <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>A man may claim some degree of magical power, and yet his claims may not be recognized
+by others. Each <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb178">[<a href="#pb178">178</a>]</span>have extraordinary powers. Hence a man who is an acknowledged <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>As the name implies, and in whatever way his power may have been obtained, an <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>By his communication with the spirits, in dreams, or in waking life, the <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>Besides their power of causing or curing sickness, the <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>. 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 <i>Biliku</i> or <i>Tarai</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> of the Northern tribes, now dead, once stopped a very violent storm by crushing between
+two stones <span class="pageNum" id="pb179">[<a href="#pb179">179</a>]</span>a piece of the <i>Anadendron paniculatum</i> 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 <i lang="gac">J̌ire Pilečar</i>, 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 <i>Ficus laccifera</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>, but against the <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i>.
+</p>
+<p>Apart from his power to communicate directly with the spirits, the <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman a soft red stone is found, called <i>talar</i>. 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb180">[<a href="#pb180">180</a>]</span></p>
+<p>White clay (<i lang="gac">to̱l-odu</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>) is sometimes used medicinally, both externally and internally. The commoner clay
+(<i>odu</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>) is plastered on sores, and has the effect of keeping off flies, if it does nothing
+else.
+</p>
+<p>An olive-coloured earth (called <i lang="gac">čulŋa</i> in <i>Aka-Bea</i>), 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The <i>Anadendron paniculatum</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9852src" href="#xd33e9852" title="Go to note 25.">25</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>If a piece of the <i>Anadendron</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>So far we have considered the properties of the plant only in <span class="pageNum" id="pb181">[<a href="#pb181">181</a>]</span>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 <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> 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 (<i lang="gac">J̌urua</i>).
+</p>
+<p>The <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i> 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i> are used in the turtle-eating ceremony described in the last chapter. For cooking
+turtle the only wood that may be used is the <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i>. 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 <i>alaba</i> must never be used for cooking turtle, though it may be used for cooking pig, and
+that <i>Puluga</i> is angry if this commandment is not observed and sends either the sun or moon to
+punish the offender<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e9888src" href="#xd33e9888" title="Go to note 26.">26</a>. There is evidently an error here. The <i>alaba</i> is the <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>. Mr Man identifies it with the <i lang="la">Melochia velutina</i>, but this is an error. Now the custom in connection with the <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> (<i>alaba</i>) 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 <i lang="gac">yo̱lba</i> (<i lang="la">Anadendron paniculatum</i>) for a statement relating to <i>alaba</i> (<i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>). We have just seen that if the <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> comes in contact with turtle meat the meat will be bad, and that if it is burnt there
+will be a storm.
+</p>
+<p>Another plant that provides fibre for thread is the <i lang="la">Gnetum edule</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>Magical properties are attributed to the <i lang="la">Ficus laccifera</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb182">[<a href="#pb182">182</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>The <i lang="la">Pterocarpus dalbergioides</i> 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 <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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 (<i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i>).” 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 (<i lang="gac">ǰipre</i>) must not be played when the <i lang="la">Pterocarpus</i> 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 <i>Lau</i>, while another account attributes the invention to the crab.)
+</p>
+<p>The <i lang="la">Tetranthera lancæfolia</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>A common remedy for sickness of different kinds is a small tree called <i>gugma</i> in <i>Aka-Bea</i>, which Mr Man identifies as being <i lang="la">Trigonostemon longifolius</i>. 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb183">[<a href="#pb183">183</a>]</span>“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.
+</p>
+<p>Another remedy is a species of <i lang="la">Alpinia</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>Magical properties are attributed to a number of plants that have not been botanically
+identified. Thus the leaves of a small tree called <i>tare</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>) <i>tip</i> and <i>laro</i> is crushed and moistened and rubbed over a sick man’s body. The leaves of a plant
+called <i>pare</i> are crushed with water and the infusion is drunk by persons suffering from diarrhœa
+and abdominal pains. A creeper called <i>korotli</i> is crushed and tied round a limb in cases of snake-bite. The seeds of the <i lang="la">Entada scandens</i> are heated in the fire and applied (while hot) to such wounds as that from the tusk
+of a boar.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> are <i lang="gac">ǰin</i>, <i>burut</i>, <i lang="gac">deŋ</i>, and <i>mit</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb184">[<a href="#pb184">184</a>]</span></p>
+<p>A hiccough is supposed to be the result of inadvertently swallowing a tree lizard,
+whose call rather resembles the sound of a person hiccoughing.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The Andamanese say that the bite of a civet-cat (<i lang="la">Paradoxurus</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>The flesh and particularly the fat of the flying fox (<i lang="la">Pteropus</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>If turtle-fat be permitted to burn in the fire there will be a storm.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>In conclusion, mention must be made of one favourite remedy <span class="pageNum" id="pb185">[<a href="#pb185">185</a>]</span>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb186">[<a href="#pb186">186</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e7543">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e7543src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e7543src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e7600">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e7600src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 158, 159.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e7600src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e7610">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e7610src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> Portman, <i>Notes on the Languages</i>, etc. p. 183.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e7610src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e7719">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e7719src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 152.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e7719src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e7734">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e7734src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i> p. 160.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e7734src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e7762">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e7762src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">6</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 160.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e7762src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e7784">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e7784src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">7</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i> p. 161.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e7784src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e7902">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e7902src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">8</a></span> Portman, <i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman</i>, p. 328.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e7902src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e8104">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e8104src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">9</a></span> Portman, <i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman</i>, p. 314.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e8104src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e8657">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e8657src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">10</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 153, 154.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e8657src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e8709">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e8709src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">11</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 165.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e8709src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e8720">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e8720src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">12</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i> p. 153.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e8720src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e8903">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e8903src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">13</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 157.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e8903src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e8962">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e8962src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">14</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 112.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e8962src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9042">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9042src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">15</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 159.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9042src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9072">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9072src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">16</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i> p. 158.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9072src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9104">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9104src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">17</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 153.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9104src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9161">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9161src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">18</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 159.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9161src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9505">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9505src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">19</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 161.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9505src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9564">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9564src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">20</a></span> I could not obtain any information about the word that Mr Man gives as <i>chaitan</i>. 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 <i>shaitan</i> = devil.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9564src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9607">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9607src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">21</a></span> 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.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9607src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9655">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9655src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">22</a></span> 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 <i>Journal of the Philological Society</i> (1882) from information supplied by Mr Man, gives a verbal suffix <i>-ngabo</i> denoting the future in the <i>Aka-Bea</i> language. Mr Portman points out that this is an error. (<i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman</i>, p. 88.)&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9655src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9691">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9691src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">23</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 96.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9691src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9727">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9727src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">24</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 83.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9727src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9852">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9852src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">25</a></span> 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 <i>Cyrena</i> shell.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9852src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e9888">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e9888src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">26</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 153 and 172.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e9888src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e331">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h2 class="main">MYTHS AND LEGENDS</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>In the last chapter it was mentioned that there are certain individuals, known as
+<i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> in the North Andaman and <i>oko-paiad</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> elaborates the remedies that he uses in particular cases. Each <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>, however, prides himself on being, to some extent, original. An example of this has
+been already mentioned. When a great storm arose an <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> of one of the Northern tribes succeeded in stopping it (in the belief of <span class="pageNum" id="pb187">[<a href="#pb187">187</a>]</span>the natives) by placing a piece of the crushed stem of the <i>Anadendron</i> creeper under a particular stone in the sea. On a later occasion another storm arose,
+and the successor of the first-mentioned <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i>Ficus laccifera</i> 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
+<i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> to be original and so to enhance his own reputation is a fertile source of variation
+in the legends.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> elaborates his own doctrine, if we may call it so, which he hands on to his followers,
+who in turn may become <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe have succeeded in introducing a new doctrine as to the weather, making <i>Bilik</i> the name of a class of beings instead of the name of a single being, and that this
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb188">[<a href="#pb188">188</a>]</span>doctrine, while it has not entirely ousted the former beliefs, has yet succeeded in
+gaining currency not only in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe, but also in the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> and <i lang="gac">O̱ko̱-J̌uwo̱i</i> tribes.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> who are now dead.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb189">[<a href="#pb189">189</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>) with a word-for-word translation.
+</p>
+<p><span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">A Maia Dik iǰokoduko</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">Sir Prawn makes fire;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">o ko̱nmo teč inǰukte̱rto̱ia</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">yam leaf catches fire;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">ko̱nmo teč bi ikterbie</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">yam leaf is dry;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">kete uiǰoko</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">that one it burns;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">uiǰokobiko</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">he makes a fire;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i>Maia Dik ubenoba</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">Sir Prawn slept;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i>Maia Totemo emato</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">Sir Kingfisher takes;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">uǰokil uektebalo</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">he fire with he runs away</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">Maia Totemo ǰokobiko</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">Sir Kingfisher makes a fire;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">Maia Totemo taǰeo ubiko</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">Sir Kingfisher fish (food) cooks;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i>upetil ubeno</i>;</span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">his belly in he sleeps;</span></span>
+<span class="intra"><span lang="gac" class="top"><i lang="gac">Maia Mite ǰuktebalo uemato.</i></span> <span lang="en" class="bottom">Sir Dove runs away taking.</span></span>
+</p>
+<p>The above translation is hardly comprehensible without a little explanation. The word
+<i lang="gac">iǰoko</i> means “something burns,” the word <i>ubiko</i> means “he cooks (by roasting).” The compound <i lang="gac">iǰokobiko</i> 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 <i lang="gac">iǰokoduko</i> has a quite different meaning, “to produce fire.” The derivation of <i><span id="xd33e10250">inǰukte̱rto̱ia</span></i> is uncertain, as I am not sure of the proper use of <i lang="gac">er-to̱ia</i>; it is translated on the basis of the explanation given me by the man who told the
+story. The word <i lang="gac">ikterbie</i> is descriptive of the dryness of dead leaves.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb190">[<a href="#pb190">190</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>Versions of legends of the origin of fire are given by Mr Portman, in each of the
+languages of the Southern group of tribes.<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10266src" href="#xd33e10266" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Lau t’er-kuro</i>, i.e. the big spirits, “big” being used in the sense of our word “chief.” Another
+term for them is <i lang="gac">N’a-mai-koloko</i>, from <i lang="gac">n’</i> or <i lang="gac">nio</i> = they, <i lang="gac">aka-mai</i> = father, and <i lang="gac">koloko</i> = people, so that the phrase literally means “the father people,” or the ancestors.
+In the South Andaman the ancestors are sometimes called <i lang="gac">Čauga tabaŋa</i>, which is the equivalent of <i>Lau t’er-kuro</i>. Mr Man seems to have misunderstood the exact meaning of this term. He writes: “<i lang="gac">Lači Lora-lola</i>, the chief of the survivors from the Deluge<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10300src" href="#xd33e10300" title="Go to note 2.">2</a>, gave, at his death, the name of <i lang="gac">Čauga tabaŋa</i> to their descendants.… The <i lang="gac">Čauga tabaŋa</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Čauga tabaŋa</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10312src" href="#xd33e10312" title="Go to note 3.">3</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man has evidently not realised that the term <i lang="gac">čauga</i> cannot be applied to any living Andamanese, but may be applied to every dead one.
+The <i lang="gac">Čauga</i> are the spirits of dead natives, and new <i lang="gac">Čauga</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Čauga tabaŋa</i>. The name may thus be applied to the purely mythical ancestors of the legends, and
+also to the spirits of men recently dead <span class="pageNum" id="pb191">[<a href="#pb191">191</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">Čauga tabaŋa</i>, i.e. big spirits, having been “big men” when they were alive.
+</p>
+<p>Another name sometimes used in the South Andaman to denote the ancestors is <i lang="gac">Tomo-la</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10341src" href="#xd33e10341" title="Go to note 4.">4</a>. 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 <i lang="gac">Bilik</i> in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Tomo-la</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>When speaking of the ancestors, the natives generally add to the name the appropriate
+title. These titles are, in the North Andaman <i>Maia</i> (Sir) and <i>Mimi</i> (Lady), in Akar-Bale <i>Da</i> (Sir) and <i>In</i> (Lady), and in Aka-Bea <i>Maia</i> and <i lang="gac">Čana</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Lau</i> (spirits). There is, however, no unanimity in their beliefs as to how mankind originated,
+even in any one tribe. An <i>Aka-Bo</i> legend is as follows:
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb192">[<a href="#pb192">192</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“The first man was <i lang="gac">J̌utpu</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10384src" href="#xd33e10384" title="Go to note 5.">5</a>. He was born inside the joint of a big bamboo, just like a bird in an egg<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10387src" href="#xd33e10387" title="Go to note 6.">6</a>. 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. <i lang="gac">J̌utpu</i> was lonely, living all by himself. He took some clay (<i lang="gac">ko̱t</i>) 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 <i lang="gac">Ko̱t</i>. They lived together at <i>Teraut-buliu</i>. Afterwards <i><span id="xd33e10403">J̌utpu</span></i> made other people out of clay. These were the ancestors. <i lang="gac">J̌utpu</i> 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.”
+</p>
+<p>The same story was told me by <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> men, the only difference being that they gave the name of the place where <i lang="gac">J̌utpu</i> lived differently, mentioning a spot in the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> country.
+</p>
+<p>From the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> 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 <i lang="gac">po̱ičo</i> (<i>Sterculia</i>) tree, and was called <i lang="gac">Po̱ičotobut</i> (<i>Sterculia</i> buttress). He had no wife, so he cohabited with an ant’s nest (<i lang="gac">ko̱t</i>) and thus obtained a large number of children. These were the first Andamanese, and
+<i lang="gac">Po̱ičotobut</i> taught them all their arts and customs. <i lang="gac">Po̱ičotobut</i> lived at <i lang="gac">Bo̱ro̱ŋ Buliu</i> (in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> country).”
+</p>
+<p>The association between the origin of the Andamanese and an ant’s nest (<i lang="gac">ko̱t</i>) is retained in another legend, told by an <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> man. “<i>Tarai</i> (the south-west monsoon) was the first man. His wife was <i lang="gac">Ko̱t</i>. They lived at <i lang="gac">Tarai-era-poŋ</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10467src" href="#xd33e10467" title="Go to note 7.">7</a>. <span class="pageNum" id="pb193">[<a href="#pb193">193</a>]</span>Their children were <i>Tau</i> (the sky), <i lang="gac">Bo̱to</i> (wind), <i>Piribi</i> (storm), and <i>Air</i> (the foam on a rough sea).”
+</p>
+<p>An entirely different legend, of which, however, I could not obtain a detailed version,
+is also found in the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> tribe. This is to the effect that the first living being was <i lang="gac">Maia Čara</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10495src" href="#xd33e10495" title="Go to note 8.">8</a>. He made the earth, and caused it to be peopled with inhabitants. He also made the
+sun and moon. In the last chapter <i lang="gac">Čara</i> was mentioned as a mythical being associated with the sun, with daylight and with
+fine weather. One of my informants of the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> tribe said that <i lang="gac">Čara</i> had a wife named <i>Nimi</i> (a common personal name), and that his children were <i lang="gac">Čeo</i> (knife), <i>Ino</i> (water), <i>Loto</i>, and <i>Luk</i>. It is <i lang="gac">Maia Čara</i>, according to one commonly received account, who makes the daylight every day.
+</p>
+<p>I could not obtain any <i>Aka-Kede</i> legend as to the origin of mankind. One informant of that tribe said that it was
+<i>Bilika</i> (the north-east monsoon) who made the world and the first men and women, but he could
+give me no detailed legend.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> and <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribes there are several versions of a legend that makes the monitor lizard (<i>Varanus salvator</i>) 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> man. “When <i>Ta <span class="corr" id="xd33e10543" title="Source: Pe̱ti">Pe̱tie</span></i> (Sir Monitor Lizard) was <i lang="gac">aka-go̱i</i> (i.e. unmarried, but having completed the initiation ceremonies), he went into the
+jungle to hunt pig. He climbed up a <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> tree, and got stuck there<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10553src" href="#xd33e10553" title="Go to note 9.">9</a>. <i>Beyan</i> (civet-cat, <i lang="la">Paradoxurus</i>) found him there, stuck in the tree. She released him and helped him to get down.
+The two got married. Their children were the <i>Tomo-la</i> (i.e. the ancestors).”
+</p>
+<p>Another legend telling how the monitor lizard obtained a wife was related to me on
+more than one occasion by <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> men. “The first of the ancestors (<i>Tomo-la</i>) was <i lang="gac">Ta Pe̱tie</i> (Sir Monitor Lizard). He lived at <i>Tomo-la-tog</i>. At first he had <span class="pageNum" id="pb194">[<a href="#pb194">194</a>]</span>no wife. One day, when he was out fishing, he found a piece of black wood of the kind
+called <i lang="gac">ko̱lotat</i> (<i lang="la">Diospyros</i> sp.). He found it in the creek, and brought it to his hut, where he put it on the
+little platform over the fire<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10584src" href="#xd33e10584" title="Go to note 10.">10</a>. 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 <i lang="gac">Po̱i</i> (a species of small bird, possibly a woodpecker), and afterwards many other children.
+They lived together for a long time at <i>Tomo-la-tog</i>. One day <i lang="gac">Ta Pe̱tie</i> went fishing and was drowned in the creek. He turned into a <i>kara-duku</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>There is some doubt about the translation of the word <i>kara-duku</i>. It is an <i>Aka-Bea</i> word, although it was used as given above, by an <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> man. Mr Man translates it “cachalot.” Mr Portman says that <i>kara-duku</i> is “crocodile,” but that the cachalot, the proper name of which is <i>biriga-ta</i>, is also sometimes called <i>kara-duku</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10613src" href="#xd33e10613" title="Go to note 11.">11</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>Another <i lang="gac">A-Pučikrwa</i> account of the origin of the first woman <i lang="gac">Ko̱lotat</i>, is as follows: “At first there were no women, only men. A man called <i lang="gac">Ko̱lotat</i> came to live in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> country. <i lang="gac">Ta Pe̱tie</i> (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 (<i>Tomo-la</i>).”
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb195">[<a href="#pb195">195</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Another account given by members of the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe is that the first man was <i>Tomo</i>, or <i>Tomo-la</i>. One version that I heard is that <i>Tomo</i> made the world and peopled it with the ancestors. He made the moon (<i>Puki</i>) who is his wife. <i>Tomo</i> and his wife invented all the arts of the Andamanese and taught them to the ancestors.
+After his death <i>Tomo</i> went to live in the sky, where he now is. It is <i>Tomo</i> who sends the fine weather, while <i>Bilik</i> sends the bad weather. In the world where <i>Tomo</i> now lives it is always daylight and is always fine. When men die their spirits go
+up to the sky and live with <i>Tomo</i>. The man who gave me this version said that he did not know how <i>Tomo</i> originated, but was quite sure that he was not made by <i>Bilik</i>. <i>Tomo</i> came first and <i>Bilik</i> came afterwards. The Andamanese are all the children of <i>Tomo</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10674src" href="#xd33e10674" title="Go to note 12.">12</a>.
+</p>
+<p>In disagreement with this story, another man of the same tribe said that <i>Tomo</i> was made by <i>Bilik</i>. He (i.e., <i>Tomo</i>) had a wife <i>Mita</i> (Dove), and they were the ancestors of the Andamanese. Yet another informant said:
+“<i>Ta Tomo</i> was the first man. He made bows and arrows and canoes. His canoes were made of the
+wood of the Pandanus tree. <i>Mita</i> (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 <i>Tomo</i> and his wife originated my informant replied that he did not know.
+</p>
+<p>A species of bird (perhaps a woodpecker), called <i lang="gac">Po̱i</i> in <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> and <i lang="gac">Ko̱io</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i>, is often said to have been the son of <i>Tomo</i>. I was once told that <i lang="gac">Ko̱io</i> was the first of the Andamanese, from whom they are all descended, and that his wife
+was <i>Mita</i>. Another informant said that <i lang="gac">Pe̱tie</i> (Monitor Lizard) was the first man and <i>Mita</i> was his wife, while still another stated that <i>Ta Mita</i> (Sir Dove) was the progenitor of the race, making the dove male instead of female.
+These different versions will give some idea of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb196">[<a href="#pb196">196</a>]</span>contradictory nature of the statements of the Andamanese. All of them come from only
+two tribes, the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> and the <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i>.
+</p>
+<p>From the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe I obtained the following legend. “<i>Puluga</i> made the first of the ancestors. He made one man and one woman called <i>Nyali</i> and <i>Irap</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10750src" href="#xd33e10750" title="Go to note 13.">13</a>. 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 <i>Irap</i> because they lived there<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10766src" href="#xd33e10766" title="Go to note 14.">14</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>Another <i>Akar-Bale</i> version is that the first man was <i>Da Duku</i> (Sir Monitor Lizard), and that his wife was <i>In Bain</i> (Lady Civet-cat).
+</p>
+<p>Mr E.&nbsp;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 <i>Puluga</i>, who then made a man named <i>Tomo</i>, the first of the human race. <i>Tomo</i> was black, like the present Andamanese, but was much taller and bearded. <i>Puluga</i> showed him the various fruit-trees in the jungle, which then existed only at <i>Wota-emi</i>, a spot in the country of the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe. The wife of <i>Tomo</i> was <i lang="gac">Čana Elewadi</i> (Lady Crab), and as to her origin there are different legends. According to some,
+<i>Puluga</i> created her after he had taught <i>Tomo</i> how to sustain life; others say that <i>Tomo</i> 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. <i>Tomo</i> had two sons and two daughters by <i lang="gac">Čana Elewadi</i>; the names of the former were <i>Biro-la</i> and <i lang="gac">Bo̱ro-la</i>, and of the latter <i>Rie-la</i> and <i lang="gac">Čo̱rmi-la</i>.
+</p>
+<p>A story that tells how <i>Tomo</i> came to his end states that <span class="pageNum" id="pb197">[<a href="#pb197">197</a>]</span>one day, while hunting, he fell into the creek called <i lang="gac">Yara-tig-ǰig</i> and was drowned. He was at once transformed into a <i>kara-duku</i> (which Mr Man translates as “cachalot”). <i lang="gac">Čana Elewadi</i>, 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,
+<i>Kara-duku</i> upset their skiff and drowned his wife and most of her companions. She became a small
+crab, of a description still named after her, <i>elewadi</i>, and the others were transformed into lizards (<i>duku</i>). Another version of this story is that, wearied with an unsuccessful day’s hunting,
+<i>Tomo</i> went to the shore, where he found a <i lang="gac">čidi</i> (Pinna) shell-fish; while playing with it, it fastened on him, and he was unable
+to free himself until a <i>baian</i> (Paradoxurus) seized the <i lang="gac">čidi</i> 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 <i>kara-duku</i>, and the others <i>duku</i>, which are now plentiful in the jungles<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e10858src" href="#xd33e10858" title="Go to note 15.">15</a>.
+</p>
+<p>In some of the preceding legends reference is made to <i>Biliku</i> or <i>Puluga</i>. There is a very general belief, in all parts of the islands, that in the time of
+the ancestors, <i>Biliku</i> or <i>Puluga</i> lived on earth. Each tribe has at least one spot in its territory that is pointed
+out as the place where <i>Biliku</i> (or <i>Puluga</i>) lived. In some tribes there are three or four such places, each of which is claimed
+as the original home of <i>Biliku</i> by the people living in the neighbourhood. In many cases the name of the spot contains
+a reference to the legend, as <i lang="gac">Puluga l’od-baraiǰ</i> (the village of <i>Puluga</i>) in <i>Akar-Bale</i> or <i lang="gac">Biliku era-poŋ</i> (the cave of <i>Biliku</i>) in the North Andaman.
+</p>
+<p>I was able to obtain a few legends relating to the time when <i>Biliku</i> lived on earth, though there were probably many more that I was not fortunate enough
+to hear.
+</p>
+<p>The following is an <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> legend:
+</p>
+<p>“In the time of the ancestors <i>Biliku</i> lived at <i lang="gac">Ar-ko̱l</i>. One day the people caught a turtle and brought it to the camp. <span class="pageNum" id="pb198">[<a href="#pb198">198</a>]</span><i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> ate the whole turtle. Then she went to sleep. The people came back and found the
+turtle gone. They said ‘<i>Biliku</i> has eaten it.’ They left the camp and all went to <i lang="gac">Tebi-čiro</i>. They left <i>Biliku</i> asleep. Some of the people went to hunt for turtle. Their canoe passed near <i lang="gac">Ar-ko̱l</i>. <i>Biliku</i> 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.’ <i>Biliku</i> had a round stone and several <i>be</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Tebi-čiro</i> called across to <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> throws seem to be lightning, and the round stone the one that she rolls about to
+make thunder.
+</p>
+<p>A few other statements about <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> from the four tribes of the North Andaman are given below just as they were taken
+down in my note-books.
+</p>
+<p>(1) “<i>Biliku</i> lived at <i lang="gac">Pura-’ra-poŋ</i> in the time of the ancestors. Her husband was <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> and her children <i>Totaimo</i>, <i>Mite</i> (cicada) and <i>Tarai</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">ko̱nmo</i> and <i>mino</i> (two species of <i lang="la">Dioscorea</i>).”
+</p>
+<p>(2) “<i>Biliku</i> used to live at <i lang="gac">Čaura</i>. She had a husband <span class="pageNum" id="pb199">[<a href="#pb199">199</a>]</span><i>Tarai</i> and a son <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i>, and a daughter <i>Mite</i>. She used to live only on certain vegetable foods, <i lang="gac">lo̱ito</i>, <i>pata</i>, <i>bui</i>, <i lang="gac">čo</i>, <i lang="gac">ko̱nmo</i> and <i>mino</i> and others. It was <i>Biliku</i> who made the earth (the forest, <i>ti-miku</i>). She began at <i lang="gac">Čaura</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>(3) “<i>Biliku</i> lived at <i><span id="xd33e11019">Ar-Ko̱l</span></i> in the time of the ancestors. Her husband was <i>Tarai</i> and their children were the birds, <i lang="gac">To̱ro̱i</i>, <i>Taka</i>, <i lang="gac">Čoto̱t</i>, <i>Poruatoko</i>, <i>Kelil</i>, <i>Mite</i>, <i lang="gac">Čo̱pčura</i>, <i>Benye</i>, <i>Biratkoro</i>, <i lang="gac">Čereo</i>, <i>Milidu</i>, <i>Bobelo</i>, <i lang="gac">Ko̱lo</i>, and <i>Teo</i>.” (<i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru.</i>)
+</p>
+<p>(4) “<i>Biliku</i> lived at <i>Poroket</i>. She was unmarried. She had a son <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i>, and her other children were <i lang="gac">To̱ro̱i</i>, <i lang="gac">Čelene</i>, <i lang="gac">Čoto̱t</i> and <i lang="gac">Čerei</i>. (These four are the names of birds.) It was <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> who invented all the arts of the Andamanese such as their bows and arrows, etc.”
+(<i>Aka-Bo?<span id="xd33e11090"></span></i>)
+</p>
+<p>(5) “<i>Biliku</i> used to live at <i lang="gac">Peč-meo</i> with her husband <i lang="gac">To̱ro̱i</i> (a bird). She used to eat <i lang="gac">lo̱ito</i>, and when anyone else ate that root she was angry. <i>Tarai</i> lived at <i lang="gac">Čaroŋa</i> with his wife <i>Kelil</i> (a bird). He ate only <i>mikulu</i>.” (<i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra.</i>)
+</p>
+<p>(6) “<i>Tarai</i> has very long legs and a short body. He used to live on a small island beyond Interview
+Island, which is now submerged. When <i>Tarai</i> goes to sleep he breathes very heavily and this makes the wind.”
+</p>
+<p>The next is an <i>Aka-Kede</i> legend. “In the days of the ancestors <i>Bilika</i> lived at <i lang="gac">Purum-at-čape</i> in the <i>Aka-Kede</i> country, with her husband <i lang="gac">Po̱ro̱kul</i>. One day <i lang="gac">Po̱ro̱kul</i> 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 (<i lang="gac">Co̱ti-te̱r-buli Buliu</i>). Laden as he was with the pig he could not swim across the creek. <i>Bilika</i> 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. <i>Bilika</i> went and lay down on one bank of the creek and stretched out her leg so that it reached
+the other bank. <i lang="gac">Po̱ro̱kul</i> walked across her leg and so reached home.”
+</p>
+<p>While it is clear from this legend that <i>Bilika</i> was of super-human size, the same was also true of her husband, if we may judge from
+another legend. “<i lang="gac">Po̱ro̱kul</i> made for himself a bow (of the large southern pattern), with which to shoot pig.
+At <span class="pageNum" id="pb200">[<a href="#pb200">200</a>]</span>this time the sky was low down near the earth, only just above the tops of the trees.
+When <i lang="gac">Po̱ro̱kul</i> 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.”
+</p>
+<p>In another legend from another part of the <i>Aka-Kede</i> tribe <i>Bilika</i> is spoken of as being male. “<i>Bilika</i> lived at <i lang="gac">Po̱ro̱ŋ-et-čo</i> with his wife <i>Mite</i>. They had a child. The ancestors ate <i>Bilika’s</i> food, <i lang="gac">lo̱ito</i> and <i>kata</i> and other plants. <i>Bilika</i> 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 <i>Bilika</i>, because he killed the men and women when they ate his foods. They all came together
+and killed <i>Bilika</i> and his wife <i>Mite</i>. <i>Maia Burto</i> (a species of fish) took the child (of <i>Bilika</i>) away to the north-east.”
+</p>
+<p>Owing to my lack of knowledge of the <i>Aka-Kede</i> language there are some points of the above legend that remain obscure. I think that
+the child of <i>Bilika</i> is also named <i>Bilika</i>, and that it is he (or she) who now lives in the north-east and sends the storms.
+The plants (<i lang="gac">lo̱ito</i>, <i>kata</i>, etc.), called here the “food” of <i>Bilika</i>, are those mentioned in the last chapter as specially belonging to <i>Bilika</i>, who is angry when the natives eat them. As regards the name, <i>Mite</i>, of <i>Bilika’s</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> people who live on the east coast of Baratang Island say that in the beginning the
+ancestors lived at a place called <i>Wota-emi</i>, and <i>Bilik</i> lived opposite to them across the strait at a place called <i lang="gac">To̱l-l’oko-tima</i>. In a rock at <i>Wota-emi</i> there is a large peculiarly shaped hollow. This is said to be where <i>Bilik</i> used to sit when he was on earth.
+</p>
+<p>An <i>Akar-Bale</i> legend is as follows. “In the days of the ancestors <i>Puluga</i> lived at <i lang="gac">J̌ila</i> off the east coast of Henry Lawrence Island and the ancestors lived at <i>Puluga <span id="xd33e11248">l’od-baraiǰ</span></i> (the village of <i>Puluga</i>) on the main island just opposite to <i lang="gac">J̌ila</i>. <i>Puluga</i> was always getting angry with the ancestors, <span class="pageNum" id="pb201">[<a href="#pb201">201</a>]</span>because they dug up yams and ate <i lang="gac">čakan</i> (<i>Entada scandens</i>) and <i>barata</i> (<i>Caryota sobolifera</i>). 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.’
+<i>Puluga</i> went away to the north-east.”
+</p>
+<p>It is worth while to note that <i lang="gac">J̌ila</i> is north-east from <i>Puluga <span id="xd33e11280">l’od-baraiǰ</span></i>, just as <i lang="gac">To̱l-l’oko-tima</i> is north-east from <i>Wota-emi</i>. In both cases there is a narrow strait between the place where the ancestors lived
+and the home of <i>Puluga</i> or <i>Bilik</i>.
+</p>
+<p>There are a number of different legends that relate how the ancestors first obtained
+fire<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11296src" href="#xd33e11296" title="Go to note 16.">16</a>. In many of these legends there is a reference to <i>Biliku</i> or <i>Puluga</i>. A common statement in the North Andaman is that “Fire was stolen from <i>Biliku</i> by <i>Maia Tiritmo</i> (Sir Kingfisher).” Some of the legends give further details. An <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> legend is as follows:
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Biliku</i> had a red stone and a pearl shell (<i>be</i>). She struck them together and obtained fire. She collected firewood and made a fire.
+She went to sleep. <i>Mite</i> (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.”
+</p>
+<p>The next is an <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> version.
+</p>
+<p>“In the days of the ancestors they had no fire. <i>Biliku</i> had fire. While <i>Biliku</i> slept <i lang="gac">Maia Lirčitmo</i> (Sir Kingfisher) came and stole fire. As he was taking the fire <i>Biliku</i> awoke and saw him. <i lang="gac">Lirčitmo</i> swallowed the fire. <i>Biliku</i> took a pearl shell (<i>be</i>) and threw it at <i lang="gac">Lirčitmo</i> and cut off his head. The fire came out (of his neck). The ancestors got the fire.
+<i lang="gac">Lirčitmo</i> became a bird.”
+</p>
+<p>The next is also, I believe, an <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> story. “<i>Maia Tiritmo</i> (Sir Kingfisher) lived at <i>Tolepar Buruin</i>. He had no fire. When he caught fish he had no fire with which to cook it. He went
+to the place where <i lang="gac">Čo̱kčura</i> (heron) lived. There was no fire there. <i>Tiritmo</i> took some rotten wood of the <i>piń</i> <span class="pageNum" id="pb202">[<a href="#pb202">202</a>]</span>tree and hit it on a rock, and thus made fire. He gave fire to <i lang="gac">Čo̱kčura</i>. <i lang="gac">Čo̱kčura</i> gave fire to <i>Totemo</i> (a species of kingfisher). <i>Totemo</i> gave it to all the others.<span id="xd33e11379">”</span>
+</p>
+<p>A slightly different and less detailed version of the same story is as follows:
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Tiritmo</i> made fire. <i>Totemo</i> stole fire (from <i>Tiritmo</i>) and gave it to <i lang="gac">Mo̱ičo</i> (Rail). <i lang="gac">Mo̱ičo</i> gave fire to all the people.”
+</p>
+<p>The next version, which was taken down in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>, I did not fully understand.
+</p>
+<p>“Some one shot an arrow. The arrow hit the hill of fire. <i>Tiriń</i> (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 <i>Tiriń’s</i> hut and stole fire. They went away, each to his own place.”
+</p>
+<p>There is a certain amount of obscurity about two other versions, which are given in
+a translation as nearly literal as possible. “<i>Maia Dik</i> (Sir Prawn) made fire. Some <i lang="gac">ko̱nmo</i> (yam) leaves caught fire, being dry. <i>Maia Dik</i> made a fire. <i>Maia Dik</i> slept. <i>Maia Totemo</i> (Sir Kingfisher) stole fire and ran away. <i>Maia Totemo</i> made a fire. He cooked fish. When he had eaten, he slept. <i>Maia Mite</i> (Sir Dove) stole fire (from <i>Totemo</i>) and ran away.<span id="xd33e11427">”</span>
+</p>
+<p>The other is as follows. “<i>Piribi</i> got fire from a stone. He threw fire at <i>Bilika</i>. It set some <i lang="gac">ko̱nmo</i> (yam) leaves on fire. <i lang="gac">Čo̱rolo</i> (Parrot) got fire (from the burning leaves). He gave it to the ancestors.”
+</p>
+<p>These two legends were taken down in <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i>, but they are perhaps really <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱ra</i> or <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> stories. I have the word <i>piribi</i> in my notes as meaning a storm, but the translation is doubtful.
+</p>
+<p>The next is an <i>Aka-Kede</i> version of what is the most widespread of the legends.
+</p>
+<p>“The ancestors had no fire. <i>Bilika</i> had fire. The ancestors tried to steal fire from <i>Bilika</i>. <i>Lirtit</i> (Kingfisher) went one night while <i>Bilika</i> was sleeping and stole fire. <i>Bilika</i> awoke and saw him going away with the fire. She threw a pearl shell (<i>ba</i>) at him, which cut off his wings and his tail. <i>Lirtit</i> dived <span class="pageNum" id="pb203">[<a href="#pb203">203</a>]</span>into the water and swam with the fire to <i>Bet-’ra-kudu</i> and gave it to <i lang="gac">Te̱pe</i>. <i lang="gac">Te̱pe</i> gave fire to <i>Mite</i> (the bronze-winged dove). <i>Mite</i> gave it to the others<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11491src" href="#xd33e11491" title="Go to note 17.">17</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>An <i>Aka-Kede</i> legend of the origin of the sun may conveniently be given in this place, as it is
+connected with the possession of fire by <i>Bilika</i>. “<i>Bilika</i> made fire of <i>purum</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Purum-at-čape</i>, at which <i>Bilika</i> is said to have lived when on earth. <i>Purum</i> is the name of a tree, not identified; <i>at</i> means either “fire” or “fire-wood,” and <i lang="gac">čape</i> means a village or a hut. The whole word therefore means “<i>Purum</i> fire village.”
+</p>
+<p>I did not obtain any legend of the origin of fire from the <i lang="gac">Oko̱-J̌uwo̱i</i> and <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> tribes, but a version from each of these tribes has been given by Mr Portman. A translation
+of Mr Portman’s <i lang="gac">Oko̱-J̌uwo̱i</i> story is as follows<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11532src" href="#xd33e11532" title="Go to note 18.">18</a>. “<i lang="gac">Mo̱m Mirit</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11538src" href="#xd33e11538" title="Go to note 19.">19</a> stole a fire-brand from <i>Kuro-t’on-mika</i> while <i>Bilik</i> was sleeping. He gave the brand to the late <i lang="gac">Leč</i>, who then made fire at <i>Karat-tatak-emi</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Portman’s <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> story is somewhat obscure. “<i>Bilik</i> was sleeping at <i lang="gac">To̱l-l’oko-tima</i>. <i>Luratut</i> (Kingfisher) took away fire to <i>Oko-emi</i>. <i lang="gac">Ko̱lotat</i> went to <i lang="gac">Min-to̱ŋ-ta</i> (taking with him fire from <i>Oko-emi</i>). At <i lang="gac">Min-to̱ŋ-ta</i> the fire went out. <i lang="gac">Ko̱lotat</i> 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
+(<i lang="gac">Jaŋil</i>) thus got fire at <i lang="gac">Min-to̱ŋ-ta</i> village.”
+</p>
+<p>From the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe I only obtained one version of the fire legend. “When the ancestors lived at
+<i>Wota-emi</i>, <i>Bilik</i> lived at <i lang="gac">To̱l-l’oko-tima</i> across the strait. In those days the ancestors had no fire. <i>Bilik</i> took some wood of the tree called <i lang="gac">pe̱rat</i> and broke it and made fire for himself. <i>Luratut</i> (Kingfisher) came to <i lang="gac">To̱l-l’oko-tima</i> while <i>Bilik</i> was sleeping and stole some fire. <i>Bilik</i> awoke and saw <i>Luratut</i>. He (<i>Bilik</i>) took <span class="pageNum" id="pb204">[<a href="#pb204">204</a>]</span>up a lighted brand and threw it at <i>Luratut</i>. It hit him in the back of the neck and burnt him. <i>Luratut</i> gave the fire to the people at <i>Wota-emi</i>. <i>Bilik</i> was very angry about this and went away to live in the sky.”
+</p>
+<p>The kingfisher of the story (<i lang="la">Alcedo beavani?</i>) has a patch of bright red feathers on its neck. This is where it was burnt by the
+brand thrown by <i>Bilik</i>.
+</p>
+<p>Mr Portman gives a slightly different version from the same tribe<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11646src" href="#xd33e11646" title="Go to note 20.">20</a>. “<i>Bilik</i> was sleeping at <i lang="gac">To̱l-l’oko-tima</i>. <i>Luratut</i> went to bring fire. He caught hold of the fire, and in doing so burnt <i>Bilik</i>. <i>Bilik</i> awoke and seized some fire. He hit <i>Luratut</i> with the fire. Then he hit <i lang="gac">Tarčal</i> (a fish) with the fire. <i lang="gac">Čalter</i> (another species of kingfisher) caught hold of the fire. He gave it to the ancestors
+at <i>Wota-emi</i>. The ancestors made fires.”
+</p>
+<p>From the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe I obtained the following legend: “The people had no fire. <i lang="gac">Dim-do̱ri</i> (a fish) went and fetched fire from <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i> (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. <i lang="gac">Dim-do̱ri</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>Mr Portman gives a somewhat similar version from the same tribe<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11687src" href="#xd33e11687" title="Go to note 21.">21</a>. <span id="xd33e11690">“</span><i lang="gac">Dim-do̱ra</i> (a fish), a very long time ago, at <i lang="gac">Keri-l’oŋ-tower</i>, was bringing fire from <i>Puluga’s</i> platform (fireplace). He, taking the fire, burnt everybody with it. <i>Bolub</i> and <i lang="gac">Tarko̱r</i> and <i lang="gac">Biličau</i> fell into the sea and became fishes. They took the fire to <i lang="gac">Rokwa-l’ar-toŋa</i> village and made fires there.”
+</p>
+<p>Another <i>Akar-Bale</i> legend is that fire was given to the first ancestors (<i>Da Duku</i> and <i>In Bain</i>) by <i>Puluga</i>. Still another is that fire was obtained by the ancestors from <i>Aga</i>, the skink (<i>Mabuia tytleri</i>). 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 <i>Aga’s</i> fire. An island in the Archipelago is called <i>Aga l’od-baraij</i>, <i>Aga’s</i> village.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb205">[<a href="#pb205">205</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Mr Portman gives an <i>Aka-Bea</i> legend, which, however, relates that the events took place at <i>Wota-emi</i> in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> country<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11743src" href="#xd33e11743" title="Go to note 22.">22</a>.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Puluga</i> was asleep at <i lang="gac">To̱l-l’oko-tima</i>. <i>Luratut</i> came, stealing fire. The fire burnt <i>Puluga</i>. <i>Puluga</i> awoke. <i>Puluga</i> seized some fire. Taking the fire he burnt <i>Luratut</i> with it. <i>Luratut</i> took the fire. He burnt <i lang="gac">Tar-čeker</i> (another kind of kingfisher) with it in <i>Wota-emi</i> village. The ancestors lit fires. They (the ancestors) were the <i>Tomo-la</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man gives three different versions of legends as to the origin of fire. According
+to the first of these, <i>Puluga</i>, after he had made the first man, <i>Tomo</i>, gave him fire and taught him its use. <i>Puluga</i> obtained fire by stacking in alternate layers two kinds of wood known as <i lang="gac">co̱r</i> and <i>ber</i>, 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11788src" href="#xd33e11788" title="Go to note 23.">23</a>. The second version is that <i>Puluga</i> came to <i>Tomo</i> with a spirit named <i lang="gac">Lači Puŋa Ablola</i> to instruct <i>Tomo</i>, who at his direction, prepared a pyre and then struck it, on which the fire was
+kindled and <i lang="gac">Puŋa Ablola</i> proceeded to teach him how to cook food<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11806src" href="#xd33e11806" title="Go to note 24.">24</a>. This legend contains an obvious contradiction. <i lang="gac">Lači Puŋa Ablola</i>, as is shown by the name itself (<i lang="gac">Lači</i> = 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 <i>Tomo</i> 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 <i>Tomo</i>) by a person who, being dead, is now <i lang="gac">Lači Puŋa Ablola</i>, but who was then alive and one of the ancestors (<i>Tomo</i>) themselves.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb206">[<a href="#pb206">206</a>]</span>friends appeared in their midst in the form of a bird named <i>Luratut</i>. Seeing their distress he flew up to <i lang="gac">Mo̱ro</i>, the sky, where he discovered <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i>, 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 <i>Luratut</i> alighted in their midst at the same moment, he gained the full credit for having
+removed the chief cause of their distress<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11841src" href="#xd33e11841" title="Go to note 25.">25</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> or <i>Puluga</i> and others are connected with the first discovery of fire. Beginning with the North
+Andaman, the following is, I believe, an <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> version. “<i lang="gac">Mimi Čara</i> 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. <i lang="gac">Mimi Čara</i> and <i>Mimi Kota</i> took the fire and went up the hill to the cave at <i lang="gac">Ŋaram</i>. They carried the fire under a cooking-pot. They kept the fire alight in the cave,
+until the storm was over.”
+</p>
+<p>Another <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> legend was taken down hurriedly and the full details were not obtained. “The people
+made a noise in the evening when <i>Mite</i> (the cicada) was singing. <i>Mite</i> went to see her mother <i>Biliku</i>. Her mother saw her eyes and face. She looked bad. Her eyes were red (with weeping).
+<i>Biliku</i> was very angry. There was a big storm and heavy rain. <i>Biliku</i> threw her pearl shells (lightning). She went mad. She destroyed the whole world.
+<i>Biliku</i> went up to live in the sky. The earth was bare (literally, empty). One day <i>Biliku</i> dropped a <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> seed from the sky. Out of this all the different kinds of tree grew, and the earth
+was again covered with <span class="pageNum" id="pb207">[<a href="#pb207">207</a>]</span>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 <i>Maia Taolu</i> saved the fire.”
+</p>
+<p>An <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> legend relates how the birds and beasts and fishes arose. “<i>Maia Dik</i> (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. <i>Maia Dik</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e11902src" href="#xd33e11902" title="Go to note 26.">26</a> 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 <i>Maia Dik</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">paraŋo</i> wood. Then he threw the burning wood about amongst the ancestors and they turned
+into birds and fishes.
+</p>
+<p>An <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> version is very similar. “The people were all asleep. <i lang="gac">Maia Ko̱lo</i> (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.”
+</p>
+<p>The <i>Aka-Kede</i> version of the catastrophe that overtook the ancestors is as follows. “It was at
+the place called <i lang="gac">Čilpet</i>. The people collected a lot of honey. They refused to give any to <i lang="gac">Ko̱po-tera-wat</i> (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 <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> tree showed above the water. The people took refuge in the branches of this tree.
+<i>Mima Mite</i> (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.
+<i lang="gac">Mima Čarami-lebek</i> made a long piece of string and with this she lowered the people <span class="pageNum" id="pb208">[<a href="#pb208">208</a>]</span>safely to the ground.” The <i lang="gac">čarami-lebek</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>An <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> 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 <i>peti</i> (cicada) was singing. Then <i>Bilik</i> got angry and sent a great cyclone. All the people were turned into birds and fishes
+and turtles and jungle beasts.”
+</p>
+<p>There is an <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> legend that, in the days of the ancestors, there was a big cyclone. There was a flood
+at <i>Wota-emi</i> and the water rose up over the trees. Some of the ancestors climbed up into a big
+<i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> tree and remained there till the waters had subsided. I was not able to hear any
+more detailed version of the legend.
+</p>
+<p>The following legend explaining how the ancestors were turned into animals was told
+me by an <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> man, but it is probably really of <i>Akar-Bale</i> origin.
+</p>
+<p>“It was in the days of the ancestors. <i lang="gac">Ta Ko̱lwo̱t</i> (Sir Tree-lizard) went over to a big meeting at <i lang="gac">Teb-ǰuru</i> (in the Archipelago). There was a lot of dancing. <i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t</i> decided to give a big dancing party of his own. He invited everybody and they all
+came to his place. <i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t</i> 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. <i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t</i>. At last <i>Berep</i> (a species of crab) caught hold of his arm and would not let go. And thus <i>Berep</i> stopped him. Before this there had been no birds in the jungles nor any fish in the
+sea.”
+</p>
+<p>A more complete version of this story was obtained from the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe. “<i>Da Tigbul</i> (Sir Dugong) took all the people to dance at <i lang="gac">Kwaičo</i>. <i>In Bain</i> (Lady Civet-cat) told <i lang="gac">Da Kwo̱ko̱l</i> (Sir Tree-lizard) that people were coming from <i>Tar-mugu</i> to dance and that <i>Da Karami</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12013src" href="#xd33e12013" title="Go to note 27.">27</a> would quarrel with <span class="pageNum" id="pb209">[<a href="#pb209">209</a>]</span>him. <i lang="gac">Da Kwo̱ko̱l</i> replied ‘Oh! I don’t care. I can fight all those people easily enough.’ All the people
+came together for the dance and <i>Karami</i> quarrelled with <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l</i>. The latter got very angry. The people were afraid. <i>Tigbul</i> (Dugong) caught hold of <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l</i> by the arm. <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l</i> threw him from him with such force that <i>Tigbul</i> fell into the sea and became a dugong. Then <i lang="gac">Kočurag-boa</i> caught hold of <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l</i> and <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l</i> threw him into the jungle<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12048src" href="#xd33e12048" title="Go to note 28.">28</a>. <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l</i> threw all the people into the sea or into the jungle and they became birds and beasts
+and fishes. No one could hold him. <i lang="gac">Da Kwo̱ko̱l</i> went away to <i lang="gac">Teb-ǰuru</i>. The people told <i>Da Berag</i> (Sir Crab) what had happened at <i lang="gac">Kwaičo</i> and how no one could hold <i lang="gac">Da Kwo̱ko̱l</i>. <i>Da Berag</i> went after him to <i lang="gac">Teb-ǰuru</i>. <i lang="gac">Da Kwo̱ko̱l</i> had covered himself with <i lang="gac">ko̱iob</i> (red paint)<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12085src" href="#xd33e12085" title="Go to note 29.">29</a>. <i>Da Berag</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Da Kwo̱ko̱l</i> said ‘You had better come and take some off me.’ <i>Da Berag</i> put his nose to <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l’s</i> arm as though to get some paint, and bit deeply into <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l’s</i> shoulder. <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l</i> could not get loose, and so he died. The people at <i lang="gac">Teb-ǰuru</i> attacked <i>Da Berag</i> and beat him. They could not kill him, because his skin was too hard, so they threw
+him into the sea. When <i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l’s</i> mother, <i lang="gac">Kegŋa</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">to̱kul</i> which belongs to <i>Puluga</i>. <i>Puluga</i> was angry because the <i lang="gac">to̱kul</i> was cut and sent a big storm which killed <i lang="gac">Kegŋa</i> and all the other people in that place.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man records another version of this legend.
+</p>
+<p>“To explain the origin of certain fish, they say that one day before the Deluge, <i lang="gac">Maia Ko̱lwo̱t</i> went to visit an encampment of the <i>Tomola</i> 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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb210">[<a href="#pb210">210</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12140src" href="#xd33e12140" title="Go to note 30.">30</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man gives still another version of the same story. “One day, at the commencement
+of the rainy season, a <i>tomola</i> named <i>Berebi</i> came to visit <i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t’s</i> mother, <i lang="gac">Čana Erep</i>, with the express intention of seeing her son, of whom he was extremely jealous.
+When he appeared <i>Berebi</i> 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. (<i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t</i>, after death, was transformed into a species of tree-lizard, which is still named
+after him, and <i>Berebi</i> became a fish called <i lang="gac">Koŋo</i>, 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 <i>Tomo</i> had been warned by <i>Puluga</i>, and while so doing incited others to follow her example by the following words:—
+</p>
+<div lang="gac" class="lgouter xd33e12172">
+<p class="line">e, e, e, dia ra-gumul l’ab-dala,
+</p>
+<p class="line">e, e, e, ŋul kaǰa piǰ pugatken,
+</p>
+<p class="line">e, e, e, ŋul čoaken toaiken,
+</p>
+<p class="line">e, e, e, ŋul boarato aga-kolaken,
+</p>
+<p class="line">e, e, e, ŋul gono boaŋken,
+</p>
+<p class="line">e, e, e, ŋul toŋ čoara boaŋken,
+</p>
+<p class="line">e, e, e, ŋig arlot pulaiǰoken.</p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">The translation of which is:—
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top"><span class="seg">e, e, e (sobbing)</span>—</td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">My grown-up handsome son,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">(sobbing)</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">Burn the wax,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">(sobbing)</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">Grind the seed of the <i lang="gac">čakan</i> (<i>Entada</i>),</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">(sobbing)</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">Destroy the <i>barata</i> (<i>Caryota</i>),</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">(sobbing)</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">Dig up the <i>gono</i> (yam),</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">(sobbing)</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">Dig up the <i lang="gac">čati</i> (yam),</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e,</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">e</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> <span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">(sobbing)</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">Destroy everything.<span id="xd33e12247"></span></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>Thereupon <i>Puluga</i> was exceeding wroth, and sent the flood, that which destroyed all living things with
+the exception of two men and two women.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb211">[<a href="#pb211">211</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“This tradition is preserved in the following lines:—
+</p>
+<div lang="gac" class="lgouter xd33e12172">
+<p class="line">Keledoat ibaji lar čora,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Ra-gumul ab-gorga en ig-boadi
+</p>
+<p class="line">Ra-gumul le liga koarna
+</p>
+<p class="line">Ra-gumul ab-gorka
+</p>
+<p class="line">Toala arbo eb dagan čoarpo.</p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">The meaning of which is:—
+</p>
+<div class="lgouter">
+<p class="line">Bring the boat to the beach
+</p>
+<p class="line">I will see your fine grown-up son,
+</p>
+<p class="line">The grown-up son who threw the youths (into the sea)
+</p>
+<p class="line">The fine grown-up son,
+</p>
+<p class="line">My adze is rusty, I will stain my lips with his blood.</p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">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:—<i>Berebi</i>, being jealous of the renown <i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12280src" href="#xd33e12280" title="Go to note 31.">31</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>As the songs given in this legend are in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> language (Southern dialect), it is probable that the legend is an <i>Akar-Bale</i> one. It is really another version of the legend already given.
+</p>
+<p>Another <i>Akar-Bale</i> story tells how the first ancestors <i>Duku</i>, the monitor lizard, and <i>Bain</i> 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. <i>Da Duku</i> (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 <i>In Bain</i> (Lady Civet-cat) took the fire from him and took it <span class="pageNum" id="pb212">[<a href="#pb212">212</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">Bain l’it-čapa</i> (Bain’s fire) to the present day.” The hill is a rather steep-sided hill of no great
+height in Havelock Island.
+</p>
+<p>Mr Portman<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12311src" href="#xd33e12311" title="Go to note 32.">32</a> 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 <i>Maia Tomo-la</i> 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 <i>Maia Tomo-la</i>, 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.)”
+</p>
+<p>The dispersion legend in the South Andaman is connected with the name of the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe. The name (of which the <i>Aka-Bea</i> equivalent is <i lang="gac">Aka-Boǰig-yab</i>) means “those who talk the original language,” it being believed that the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> language was the one originally spoken by the ancestors.
+</p>
+<p>The only version of the dispersion legend that I heard was from the <i>Aka-Kede</i> tribe. It was to the effect that <i>Bilika</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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. “<i>Tomo</i> lived to a great age, but even before his death his offspring became so numerous
+that their home could no longer accommodate them. At <i>Puluga’s</i> bidding they were furnished with all necessary weapons, implements, and fire, and
+then scattered in <span class="pageNum" id="pb213">[<a href="#pb213">213</a>]</span>pairs all over the country. When this exodus occurred <i>Puluga</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12348src" href="#xd33e12348" title="Go to note 33.">33</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>“Consequent on the disappearance of <i>Tomo</i> and his wife, the duties of headship over the community at <i>Wota-emi</i> devolved on one of their grandchildren, named <i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t</i>, who was distinguished by being the first to spear and catch turtles. The <i>tomola</i> remained on the islands long after <i>Tomo’s</i> transformation, but after <i lang="gac">Ko̱lwo̱t’s</i> death, according to one legend, they grew disobedient, and as <i>Puluga</i> ceased to visit them, became more and more remiss in their observance of the commands
+given at the creation. At last <i>Puluga’s</i> 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, <i lang="gac">Lo̱ra-lola</i> and <i lang="gac">Po̱i-lola</i>, and two women, <i>Ka-lola</i> and <i>Rima-lola</i>), 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 <i>Wota-emi</i>, where they landed and discovered that every living thing on earth had perished;
+but <i>Puluga</i> re-created the animals, birds, etc.<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12390src" href="#xd33e12390" title="Go to note 34.">34</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>“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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12395src" href="#xd33e12395" title="Go to note 35.">35</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>In the Southern tribes there is a legend to account for the origin of night. The following
+version was obtained from the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe. “In the early days of the world, in the time of the ancestors, there was no
+night; it was always day. <i lang="gac">Ta Pe̱tie</i> (Sir Monitor Lizard) went into the jungle to dig up yams. He found some yams. He
+also found some resin (<i>teki</i>), and a cicada (<i lang="gac">ro̱to</i>). He brought them to the camp of the ancestors at <span class="pageNum" id="pb214">[<a href="#pb214">214</a>]</span><i>Wota-emi</i>. He sat down and the people came round him. <i lang="gac">Ta Pe̱tie</i> 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 <i>Kotare</i> (a bird) sang a song, but he could not get back the daylight. Then <i>Bumu</i> (a beetle?) sang, but the day would not come. Then <i lang="gac">Pecero̱l</i> (the bulbul, <i>Otocompsia emeria</i>) sang, and after him <i lang="gac">Ko̱io</i> (a bird), but both in vain. Then <i lang="gac">Ko̱ŋoro</i> (a species of ant) sang a song and morning came. After that, day and night followed
+one another alternately.”
+</p>
+<p>A similar legend was obtained from the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe. “<i lang="gac">Da Teŋat</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12442src" href="#xd33e12442" title="Go to note 36.">36</a> lived at <i>Golugma Bud</i>. He went fishing one day and got only one small fish of the kind called <i lang="gac">čelau</i> (<i lang="la">Glyphidodon sordidus</i>?). He turned to go home, and as he went he shot his arrows before him into the jungle<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12454src" href="#xd33e12454" title="Go to note 37.">37</a>. 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 <i>puiam</i>, and then the <i>guluba</i>, and then the <i lang="gac">čakli</i>, but none of them replied to him. Then he found his first arrow. It was stuck fast
+in a big yam (<i>gono</i>). He took the arrow and said to the yam ‘What is your name?’ At first the yam did
+not answer. <i lang="gac">Teŋat</i> turned to go away. He had gone a few steps when the yam called him back, saying ‘My
+name is <i>gono</i>.’ <i lang="gac">Teŋat</i> 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 (<i>tug</i>)<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12477src" href="#xd33e12477" title="Go to note 38.">38</a>. He took the arrow, and as he was going away <span class="pageNum" id="pb215">[<a href="#pb215">215</a>]</span>the resin called him back, saying ‘Here! my name is <i>tug</i>; you can take me along with you.’ So <i lang="gac">Teŋat</i> took the resin. Then <i lang="gac">Teŋat</i> found a cicada (<i>rita</i>), and he took that also. When <i lang="gac">Teŋat</i> got to the hut (<i>bud</i>), 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 <i>gono</i>. Then <i lang="gac">Teŋat</i> 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. <i lang="gac">Teŋat</i> took some of the resin and made torches. He taught the people how to dance and sing.
+When <i lang="gac">Da Ko̱ŋoro</i> (Sir Ant) sang a song the day came back. After that the day and night came alternately.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man records a different version of this story.
+</p>
+<p>“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 <i>Tomo’s</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i> by killing a caterpillar. The tale informs us that the sun, one day, burned so fiercely
+as to cause great distress. Two women named <i lang="gac">Čana Limi</i> and <i lang="gac">Čana J̌araŋud</i>, became exceedingly irritable, and while in this unhappy frame of mind they discovered
+a caterpillar (<i>gurug</i>) and a certain plant called <i>utura</i>. By way of venting their spleen, one crushed the helpless grub, and the other destroyed
+the plant. These wanton acts so displeased <i>Puluga</i> 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, <i lang="gac">Maia Ko̱lwo̱t</i>, to whom reference has already been made, hit upon a happy expedient of inducing
+<i>Puluga</i> to restore the former state of things by trying to assure him that they were quite
+unconcerned, and could enjoy <span class="pageNum" id="pb216">[<a href="#pb216">216</a>]</span>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 <i>Puluga</i>, 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12540src" href="#xd33e12540" title="Go to note 39.">39</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>From the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe I obtained a legend about the origin of death. No other version of the same
+legend was obtained.
+</p>
+<p>“At <i lang="gac">J̌o̱ŋo-l’ar-bo̱ŋ</i> lived <i>In Kalwadi</i> with her sons <i>Yaramurud</i> and <i>Toau</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12559src" href="#xd33e12559" title="Go to note 40.">40</a>. <i>Yaramurud</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12573src" href="#xd33e12573" title="Go to note 41.">41</a>. 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 <i>Yaramurud</i> 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 <i>Kalwadi</i> took him into the jungle to a big <i>dumla</i> tree (<i lang="la">Pisonia excelsa</i>), in which there was a big hole. She kicked the tree with her foot and said ‘You
+go in there.’ <i>Yaramurud</i> went inside. ‘Well! Have you gone?’ his mother asked. He answered ‘Yes!’ ‘Tell me
+how the spirits (<i lang="gac">čauga</i>) talk’ she asked him, and he replied ‘<i lang="gac">To̱ kit</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12593src" href="#xd33e12593" title="Go to note 42.">42</a>.’ Then his mother knew that he was with the spirits, and said ‘Oh! my child, you
+are <span class="pageNum" id="pb217">[<a href="#pb217">217</a>]</span>finished now. You will never come back again.’ After a few days <i>Yaramurud</i> came back (as a spirit) to see his brother <i>Toau</i>. <i>Toau</i> was busy building a hut. When <i>Yaramurud</i> saw him he killed him. Before this there had been no death. But <i>In Kalwadi</i> told the people, saying ‘You see what has happened; well, we shall all of us die
+like this, like these two have done’.”
+</p>
+<p>There is a widespread legend to account for the origin of creeks and islands. The
+following is an <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> version.
+</p>
+<p>“At first there was only one big island with the sea all round it. There were no small
+islands and no creeks. <i lang="gac">Ko̱ŋoro</i> (a species of ant) made a turtle net and went fishing. He caught a very big fish
+of the kind called <i lang="gac">ko̱ro-ŋiti-čau</i> 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.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man records the same legend, but says it was <i>Tomo</i> who caught the fish<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12629src" href="#xd33e12629" title="Go to note 43.">43</a>. In an <i>Akar-Bale</i> version it was <i lang="gac">Da Pečero̱l</i> who caught the fish (<i lang="gac">ko̱roŋadi</i>). <i lang="gac">Pečero̱l</i> is the bulbul (<i lang="la">Otocompsia emeria</i>). I have the name <i lang="gac">ko̱roŋadi</i> in my notes as being <i lang="la">Sphyraena acutipinnis</i>, but the identification is a doubtful one. In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Kede</i> tribe there is a version in which it is stated that one of the ancestors captured
+a fish called <i>talepo</i>. This does not seem to be the same species of fish as that called <i><span id="xd33e12662">ko̱ro-ŋiti-čau</span></i> or <i lang="gac">ko̱roŋadi</i> in the South. In the North Andaman the legend is that <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i>, the son of <i lang="gac">Biliku</i>, shot a large eel (<i lang="gac">bol</i>) with an arrow, and in its endeavours to get free from the arrow the eel wriggled
+about till it made all the creeks.
+</p>
+<p>In the Southern tribes there is a legend that relates how the pig first got its senses.
+A version from the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe is as follows.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="gac">Ta Mita</i> (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. <i lang="gac">Mita</i> made mouths for them and gave them tusks which he made of <i lang="gac">tobur</i> wood. He made <span class="pageNum" id="pb218">[<a href="#pb218">218</a>]</span>eyes and ears and nostrils in their heads and taught them how to grunt and how to
+sneeze<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12696src" href="#xd33e12696" title="Go to note 44.">44</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>Another version from the same tribe is as follows.
+</p>
+<p>“At first the pigs had neither nose nor ears nor eyes. They used to stand about at
+<i lang="gac">Wota-emi</i> when the ancestors lived there. The people ate a great many of them. They were such
+a nuisance that <i>Mita</i> (Dove), the wife of <i>Tomo</i>, 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.”
+</p>
+<p>I did not obtain any version of this legend from the Northern tribes. The <i>Aka-Kede</i> have a different legend about the pigs.
+</p>
+<p>“At first there were no pigs. One of the ancestors, <i lang="gac">Mimi Čau</i> (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. <i lang="gac">Mimi Čau</i> became a civet-cat (<i lang="gac">čau</i>).”
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman there is a legend connected with the pig which explains the origin
+of the dugong.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> was the first man to catch a pig. He went into the forest and found a pig. <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> was hungry. He caught the pig and took it home. The pig had no eyes nor ears nor
+mouth. <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> did not disembowel the pig, nor did he sever the joints of its legs<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12736src" href="#xd33e12736" title="Go to note 45.">45</a>. 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. <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> threw a <i lang="gac">ko̱bo</i> (<i>Licuala</i>) leaf at it. The pig ran into the sea and became a dugong. The leaf became its flipper.”
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> tribe there is a legend describing the origin of turtles.
+</p>
+<p>“At first there was only one big turtle. He came to the camp of the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> people and called them, saying ‘Bring your canoes and catch me.’ They got into their
+canoes and <span class="pageNum" id="pb219">[<a href="#pb219">219</a>]</span>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.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> version of the story is as follows.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Duku</i> (Monitor Lizard) lived with his wife <i>Bain</i> (Civet-cat). <i>Duku</i> 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 <i lang="gac">to̱lma</i> (quartz) and scarified himself all over. His wife was very angry and asked him why
+he had done it. <i>Duku</i> replied ‘I look very well like this, and you will see, all the other people will
+do the same’.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man gives a version of the same legend.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Maia Duku</i>, who appears to be identical with <i>Tomo</i>, 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 <i>Duku</i> made an arrow-head and tattooed himself, after which he sang the ditty:—
+</p>
+<div class="lgouter xd33e12172">
+<p class="line">To̱ŋ ma lir pireŋa? to̱ŋ yitiken! to̱ŋ yitiken!
+</p>
+<p class="line">to̱ŋ ma lir pireŋa? to̱ŋ yitiken!</p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">the interpretation of which is
+</p>
+<div class="lgouter">
+<p class="line">‘What can now strike me?
+</p>
+<p class="line">I am tattooed, I am tattooed!’ etc. (Da capo)<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12796src" href="#xd33e12796" title="Go to note 46.">46</a>.”</p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb220">[<a href="#pb220">220</a>]</span>being performed with a flake of stone or glass. The legend is certainly a Southern
+one, and the song given is in the <i>Aka-Bea</i> language. The accuracy of the transcription of the legend therefore seems very doubtful.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> or <i>Puluga</i>. We have already seen that there is a special connection between <i>Biliku</i> (or <i>Puluga</i>) 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 <i>gono</i> is contained in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> legend of the origin of night, already given<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12822src" href="#xd33e12822" title="Go to note 47.">47</a>.
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman the following tale is told about the discovery of one kind of
+yam.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Maia Dik</i> (Sir Prawn) discovered <i lang="gac">ko̱nmo</i> (<i lang="la">Dioscorea</i> sp.). He was very hungry and went to look for something to eat. He found a very large
+<i lang="gac">ko̱nmo</i>. There was only one <i lang="gac">ko̱nmo</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">ko̱nmo</i> everywhere.”
+</p>
+<p>A legend is also told in the North Andaman about the first discovery of another kind
+of yam.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Maia Pulimu</i> (Sir Fly) and <i lang="gac">Maia Mo̱ičo</i> (Sir Rail) went to hunt pig. They killed one pig. There was nothing to tie up the
+pig (to carry it home). <i>Maia Pulimu</i> 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 <i>mino</i> (<i lang="la">Dioscorea</i> sp.). <i>Maia Pulimu</i> was a long time away. <i lang="gac">Maia Mo̱ičo</i> went and found some creeper for himself and tied up the pig and carried it home.
+When <i>Maia Pulimu</i> came back he found that <i lang="gac">Maia Mo̱ičo</i> had gone and taken the pig. He followed him and went home. He showed the ancestors
+how to cook and eat <i>mino</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb221">[<a href="#pb221">221</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“<i lang="gac">Mimi Mo̱ičo</i> (Lady Rail) had a son <i>Pulimu</i> (Fly). <i>Pulimu</i> found a <i>mino</i> in the forest and brought it to his mother. They roasted it in the fire.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man gives a story from the South Andaman.
+</p>
+<p>“Another of their antediluvian ancestors was famous for propagating yams. This was
+<i>Maia Bumroag</i>, who in shooting an arrow, struck the creeper belonging to the favourite variety
+called <i>gono</i>; 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12899src" href="#xd33e12899" title="Go to note 48.">48</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman it is supposed that honey was discovered by <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> the son of <i>Biliku</i>.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> was the first to eat honey. One day he went to shoot fish. He saw a <i>nyuri</i> (<i>Plotosus</i> sp.). The <i>nyuri</i> disappeared amongst the roots of the mangrove trees. <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> was looking for the fish. There was a honeycomb in a mangrove tree. <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> saw its reflection in the water. He took some fire and tried to get the honey out
+of the water<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12929src" href="#xd33e12929" title="Go to note 49.">49</a>. 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.’ <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> took some fire and smoked out the bees and took the honey. After that <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> used to go and collect honey. He ate it all himself. He did not tell the others (the
+ancestors) about it. <i lang="gac">Maia Po̱rubi</i> (Sir Frog) found out that <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> 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. <i lang="gac">Be̱re̱t</i> (a smaller species of frog) was the child of <i lang="gac">Po̱rubi</i>. One day <i lang="gac">Be̱re̱t</i> said to his father ‘Bring us some honey.’ The children went with their father and
+showed him the combs in the trees. <span class="pageNum" id="pb222">[<a href="#pb222">222</a>]</span><i lang="gac">Po̱rubi</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Be̱re̱t</i> saw another honeycomb in a very tall tree. He pointed it out to his father. <i lang="gac">Po̱rubi</i> went up to get it. <i lang="gac">Be̱re̱t</i> cut the creeper up which his father had climbed<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e12968src" href="#xd33e12968" title="Go to note 50.">50</a>. <i lang="gac">Po̱rubi</i> wrapped up the honeycomb to bring it down. <i lang="gac">Be̱re̱t</i> said ‘Father, this creeper is bad. How will you come down?’ <i lang="gac">Po̱rubi</i> replied ‘How can it be bad, when I have just climbed up it?’ <i lang="gac">Be̱re̱t</i> made some sharp stakes of <i lang="gac">čo̱m</i> (<i>Areca</i>) wood, and put them round the tree. <i lang="gac">Po̱rubi</i> jumped (or fell) from the tree on to the stakes and was killed. <i lang="gac">Be̱re̱t</i> took the honey and ran away home.”
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">Aka-Čari</i> tribe there is another legend connected with the frog (<i lang="gac">po̱rubi</i>) which may conveniently be given here.
+</p>
+<p>“The ancestors were at enmity with <i lang="gac">Maia Po̱rubi</i>. They went to kill him. They shot him with their arrows, but they could not kill
+him. <i lang="gac">Maia Po̱rubi</i> caught hold of them all in his arms, and jumped into the sea. He jumped from the
+hill called <i lang="gac">Čauanara</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Maia Po̱rubi’s</i> place. They caught a turtle and shouted<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13017src" href="#xd33e13017" title="Go to note 51.">51</a>. <i lang="gac">Maia Po̱rubi</i> 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.”
+</p>
+<p>A story in which there is a connection between honey and a toad is given by Mr Man.
+</p>
+<p>“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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb223">[<a href="#pb223">223</a>]</span>his guest to fasten his bucket (<i>dakar</i>) 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13031src" href="#xd33e13031" title="Go to note 52.">52</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>One of the incidents of the North Andaman story of the frog (<i lang="gac">Po̱rubi</i>) and his son (<i lang="gac">Be̱re̱t</i>) appears in a different story from the South and Middle Andaman. The following is
+an <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> version of this legend.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Ta Mita</i> (Sir Dove) and <i lang="gac">Ta Ko̱io</i> (a species of small bird) went hunting together and got a great number of pigs. <i lang="gac">Ta Ko̱io</i> told <i>Ta Mita</i> to get some canes to tie up all the pigs. As soon as <i>Ta Mita</i> had gone to look for the cane, <i lang="gac">Ta Ko̱io</i> went up a big <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> 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 <i>Ta Mita</i> came back he found that the pigs had disappeared. He was very angry and went home.
+As there was nothing to eat, <i>Mita</i> and his two children, <i lang="gac">Čada</i> and <i lang="gac">Čoda</i> (two species of fish) went fishing. <i lang="gac">Ko̱io</i> was still up the tree. He was cooking the pigs up there. <i>Mita</i> and his children passed under the tree and some burning resin<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13085src" href="#xd33e13085" title="Go to note 53.">53</a> fell on them. In this way they discovered that <i lang="gac">Ko̱io</i> was in the tree. <i>Mita</i> planned to punish <i lang="gac">Ko̱io</i>. He cut a great number of sharp stakes of <i>Areca</i> wood and fixed them all round the tree, pointing upwards. <i lang="gac">Ko̱io</i> was asleep. <i>Mita</i> made the tree sink into the ground. As soon as it was low enough he took some water
+and threw it into the <span class="pageNum" id="pb224">[<a href="#pb224">224</a>]</span>ear of the sleeping <i lang="gac">Ko̱io</i>, who awoke in a fright and jumped from the tree. He was impaled on the stakes of
+wood and so died.”
+</p>
+<p>Another version of the same tale was obtained from the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Da Bumu</i> (a species of bird) went hunting pig with <i>Da Berakwe</i> (another species of bird), and they got a large number of pigs. Then <i>Berakwe</i> said to <i>Bumu</i> ‘We want some cane to tie up all these pigs. You go and get it.’ When <i>Bumu</i> had gone <i>Berakwe</i> climbed up into a big <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> tree, taking all the pigs with him, except one very small one which he left behind.
+When <i>Bumu</i> came back with the cane he found only one small pig, and he was very angry. He went
+home with the pig. <i>Bumu’s</i> wife <i lang="gac">Yakoŋ</i> (a species of fish) said ‘I am very hungry. We will go and get some fish by night.’
+At night <i lang="gac">Yakoŋ</i> went out to get some fish and she passed under the tree where <i>Berakwe</i> was cooking his pigs. Some burning resin fell on her and burnt her. She looked up
+and saw <i>Berakwe</i> and said ‘Oh! there you are; you stole all my husband’s pigs.’ She went home and
+told <i>Bumu</i>. In the morning <i>Bumu</i> got up very early and cut a number of pointed stakes of <i>Areca</i> (<i lang="gac">čam</i>) wood, and fixed them all round the tree where <i>Berakwe</i> was, with the sharp points upwards. Then <i>Bumu</i> made the tree sink gradually into the ground. <i>Berakwe</i> fell from the tree on to the stakes and so was killed. <i>Bumu</i> and his wife got the pigs.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr Man records a version of the same story.
+</p>
+<p>“The legend regarding the origin of the evil spirits known as <i lang="gac">Čo̱l</i> is as follows:—Their ancestor, <i lang="gac">Maia Čo̱l</i>, one day stole a pig which had been captured by <i lang="gac">Maia Ko̱lwo̱t</i>, and climbed up into a gurjon-tree with his prize. Now <i lang="gac">Maia Ko̱lwo̱t</i> 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, <i lang="gac">Maia Čo̱l</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Čaitan</i> (Hades), but took up its abode on the invisible bridge, where, by <i>Puluga’s</i> orders, numbers of his <span class="pageNum" id="pb225">[<a href="#pb225">225</a>]</span>descendants were sent to join him, in the form of black birds with long tails<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13193src" href="#xd33e13193" title="Go to note 54.">54</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>In reference to this version it may be noted that the <i lang="gac">Čo̱l</i> are not “spirits” if that word is used to translate the native term <i lang="gac">čauga</i> or <i>lau</i>. <i lang="gac">Čo̱l</i> 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 <i lang="gac">čo̱l! čo̱l! čo̱l!</i>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌irmu</i>. In the days of the ancestors it is supposed to have lived at <i lang="gac">Ulibi-taŋ</i>, where it attacked and killed any men and women who came in its way. No detailed
+legend about the <i lang="gac">J̌irmu</i> was obtained.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i>Akar-Bale</i> language <i lang="gac">Kočurag-boa</i> is the name of the same or a similar monster. In the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> language it is called <i lang="gac">Uču</i>. This is the name applied to two rocks of limestone which are situated about two
+or three miles south of <i>Wota-emi</i>, one being in a mangrove swamp, and the other some little way out in the sea. The
+following legend is told about these rocks.
+</p>
+<p>“In the early days of the Andamanese, <i lang="gac">Ta Pe̱tie</i> (Sir Monitor Lizard), the first ancestor, went into the jungle and found a <i lang="gac">čo̱ti</i> tree, up which he climbed to eat the fruit. The other people (who lived with him
+at <i>Wota-emi</i>) came and found him, and <i lang="gac">Ta Pe̱tie</i> threw down some of the fruit to them, which they ate. The people began to bully <i lang="gac">Pe̱tie</i> to make him throw down more of the fruit. <i lang="gac">Pe̱tie</i> got angry and said ‘If you bully me like that I will call the <i lang="gac">Uču</i>, and they will kill you all.’ The people only laughed at him. <i lang="gac">Pe̱tie</i> called the <i lang="gac">Uču</i>, calling ‘<i>Dire! dire!</i>’ The <i lang="gac">Uču</i> came, one male and one female. They caught all the people and ate them. Only <i lang="gac">Pe̱tie</i> they did not eat because he was up in the high tree. The <i lang="gac">Uču</i> went off to cross the strait to <i lang="gac">To̱l-l’oko-tima</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Pe̱tie</i> came down from the tree he found all the people gone. He said ‘Hallo! the <i lang="gac">Uču</i> must have eaten <span class="pageNum" id="pb226">[<a href="#pb226">226</a>]</span>them all.’ He went to look. He found the <i lang="gac">Uču</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Uču</i> had swallowed them whole. The <i lang="gac">Uču</i> are there to this day.”
+</p>
+<p>When elephants were first introduced into the Andamans for the use of the Forest Department,
+they were named <i lang="gac">Uču</i> by the natives, and have ever since retained that name. Similarly the natives of
+the Northern tribes call them <i lang="gac">J̌irmu</i>.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe there is a legend to account for the origin of a rock standing in the sea at
+a place called <i lang="gac">Kwaičo-bur</i>.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="gac">Ra-gumul Kwo̱ko̱l</i> 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.”
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Kwo̱ko̱l</i> is the common tree-lizard. <i>Ra-gumul</i> is the term applied to a youth or girl who has just passed through the pig-eating
+ceremony described in Chap. <span class="asc">II</span>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>“The story regarding certain <i>Tomola</i> who failed to observe the rules for neophytes, states that, on the day after they
+broke their fast of <i lang="gac">reg-ǰiri</i> (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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13339src" href="#xd33e13339" title="Go to note 55.">55</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>A reef on the east side of Ritchie’s Archipelago is said to have originated as follows.
+</p>
+<p>“The people of <i lang="gac">Kwaičo</i> went to <i lang="gac">J̌ila</i> to hunt turtle, taking two canoes. While they were away their wives made up a big
+fire in the evening at <i lang="gac">Kwaičo</i>. The hunters and their canoes were turned to stone, and formed the reefs that are
+now there.”
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13358src" href="#xd33e13358" title="Go to note 56.">56</a>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb227">[<a href="#pb227">227</a>]</span></p>
+<p>There seems to be a legend relating to a large snake called <i lang="gac">o̱r-čubi</i> in the North Andaman, but I was not able to obtain a detailed version. The following
+was told me in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>.
+</p>
+<p>“At <i>Dalamio</i>, in the time of the ancestors, there used to be a big snake of the kind called <i lang="gac">o̱r-čubi</i>. He used to catch men and women when they were gathering honey, and kill them and
+eat them.”
+</p>
+<p>An <i>Akar-Bale</i> version is a little fuller.
+</p>
+<p>“There was a man named <i lang="gac">Biča</i> who went to look for honey in the jungle. He saw a big snake (<i lang="gac">wara-ǰobo</i>) 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?’ <i lang="gac">Biča</i> 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.”
+</p>
+<p>An <i>Akar-Bale</i> story relates how the first murder came to pass.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Da Ko</i> (Sir Crow) was the first of the Andamanese. He lived at <i lang="gac">Kared-čar-buaro</i> with his wife <i>In Mud</i> (Lady Dove). He had a friend, <i>Badgi-beria</i> (Hawk). <i>Badgi-beria</i> had no wife and was jealous of <i>Da Ko</i> and wanted to get his wife. When <i>Da Ko</i> knew this he was very angry. He went into the jungle and hid himself. By and by he
+saw <i>Badgi-beria</i> and <i>Mud</i> coming along the path together. He took his bow and arrows and killed them.”
+</p>
+<p>Another <i>Akar-Bale</i> story about the dove is as follows.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Mud</i> and <i>Kulal</i> were cooking pig and got very hot. They went to bathe and were turned into birds.”
+</p>
+<p><i>Mud</i> is the bronze-winged dove, <i lang="la">Chalcophaps indica</i>, and <i>kulal</i> is the teal, <i lang="la">Nettium albigulare</i>.
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman there are tales about the sea-eagle (<i lang="gac">ko̱lo</i>). One is to the effect that at first he used <i lang="gac">ko̱bo</i> (<i lang="la">Licuala</i>) leaves to fly with. This was before he had wings of his own. Another story is as
+follows.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="gac">Maia Ko̱lo</i> (Sir Sea-eagle) lived at <i lang="gac">Čona</i> in <i>Tau-’ra-miku</i>. He had a hut in the top of a <i lang="gac">to̱ro̱ktato</i> tree. He was unmarried. <span class="pageNum" id="pb228">[<a href="#pb228">228</a>]</span>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.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb229">[<a href="#pb229">229</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10266">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10266src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> Portman, <i>Notes on the Languages</i>, etc. p. 97.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10266src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10300">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10300src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> The legend will be given later.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10300src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10312">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10312src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 169.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10312src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10341">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10341src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> The suffix <i lang="gac">-la</i> is added to personal names and to terms of address in order to express respect.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10341src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10384">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10384src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> The name seems to mean “alone.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10384src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10387">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10387src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">6</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10387src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10467">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10467src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">7</a></span> The meaning of the name is “the cave of <i>Tarai</i>”; I believe that this is the name of a spot in the <i><span id="xd33e10472">Aka-J̌eru</span></i> country.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10467src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10495">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10495src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">8</a></span> The meaning of the name was not discovered.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10495src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10553">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10553src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">9</a></span> The lizard was caught in some way by his genital organs, but I was unable to understand
+the story completely.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10553src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10584">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10584src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">10</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10584src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10613">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10613src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">11</a></span> <i>Notes on the Languages</i>, etc. p. 227.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10613src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10674">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10674src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">12</a></span> When an old man of the <i><span id="xd33e10677">A-Pučikwar</span></i> 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 <i>Tomo</i> is the equivalent of the Christian God. This man belonged to the <i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10674src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10750">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10750src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">13</a></span> These names are common personal names among the aborigines of the present day. Mr
+Portman derives <i>Nyali</i> from <i>nam-da</i>, the name of a tree, and <i>Irap</i> from <i>pira-da</i> meaning “scattered,” but these derivations are far from being authenticated. (Portman,
+<i>Notes on the Languages of the South Andaman Group of Tribes</i>, p. 70.)&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10750src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10766">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10766src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">14</a></span> The place called <i>Irap</i> is at the north end of Havelock Island.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10766src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e10858">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e10858src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">15</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 164.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e10858src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11296">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11296src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">16</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11296src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11491">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11491src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">17</a></span> I understood that <i>Lirtit</i>, by the loss of his wings and tail, became a man.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11491src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11532">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11532src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">18</a></span> Portman, <i>loc. cit.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11532src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11538">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11538src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">19</a></span> <i><span id="xd33e11540">Mo̱m</span></i> is a title indicating respect, <span class="corr" id="xd33e11543" title="Source: aud">and</span> <i>Mirit</i> is the imperial pigeon.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11538src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11646">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11646src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">20</a></span> Portman, <i>loc. cit.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11646src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11687">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11687src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">21</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11687src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11743">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11743src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">22</a></span> Portman, <i>loc. cit.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11743src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11788">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11788src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">23</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 164.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11788src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11806">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11806src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">24</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11806src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11841">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11841src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">25</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 167.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11841src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e11902">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e11902src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">26</a></span> <i>Dik</i> 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.)&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e11902src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12013">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12013src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">27</a></span> <i>Karami</i> is the name of a bird that was not identified.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12013src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12048">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12048src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">28</a></span> <i lang="gac">Kočurag-boa</i> is the <i>Akar-Bale</i> name for a huge legendary animal.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12048src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12085">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12085src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">29</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12085src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12140">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12140src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">30</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 171.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12140src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12280">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12280src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">31</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> pp. 167–169.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12280src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12311">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12311src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">32</a></span> <i>Notes on the Languages</i>, etc. p. 27.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12311src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12348">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12348src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">33</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 166.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12348src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12390">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12390src" title="Return to note 34 in text.">34</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12390src" title="Return to note 34 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12395">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12395src" title="Return to note 35 in text.">35</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 169.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12395src" title="Return to note 35 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12442">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12442src" title="Return to note 36 in text.">36</a></span> This is the name of some creature that I did not identify, perhaps a kind of spider.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12442src" title="Return to note 36 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12454">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12454src" title="Return to note 37 in text.">37</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12454src" title="Return to note 37 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12477">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12477src" title="Return to note 38 in text.">38</a></span> The Andamanese classify resin as a “stone” although they know its vegetable origin.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12477src" title="Return to note 38 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12540">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12540src" title="Return to note 39 in text.">39</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 172.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12540src" title="Return to note 39 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12559">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12559src" title="Return to note 40 in text.">40</a></span> <i>Kalwadi</i> is a small crab, <i>yaramurud</i> is the crow pheasant (<i lang="la">Centropus andamanensis</i>), and <i>toau</i> is the hawksbill turtle.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12559src" title="Return to note 40 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12573">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12573src" title="Return to note 41 in text.">41</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12573src" title="Return to note 41 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12593">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12593src" title="Return to note 42 in text.">42</a></span> I could obtain no explanation of the phrase, or word, <i lang="gac">to̱ kit</i>. My informant only said “That is the way the spirits talk.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12593src" title="Return to note 42 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12629">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12629src" title="Return to note 43 in text.">43</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 165.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12629src" title="Return to note 43 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12696">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12696src" title="Return to note 44 in text.">44</a></span> The sneezing (the word is translated literally) is a sort of whistling noise that
+the wild pigs make when they suspect danger.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12696src" title="Return to note 44 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12736">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12736src" title="Return to note 45 in text.">45</a></span> The Andamanese always disembowel a pig and sever the joints of its legs before they
+place it on a fire.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12736src" title="Return to note 45 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12796">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12796src" title="Return to note 46 in text.">46</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 170.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12796src" title="Return to note 46 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12822">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12822src" title="Return to note 47 in text.">47</a></span> Page <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12822src" title="Return to note 47 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12899">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12899src" title="Return to note 48 in text.">48</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 170.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12899src" title="Return to note 48 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12929">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12929src" title="Return to note 49 in text.">49</a></span> In taking a honeycomb the natives often drive away the bees with fire or smoke.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12929src" title="Return to note 49 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e12968">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e12968src" title="Return to note 50 in text.">50</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e12968src" title="Return to note 50 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13017">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13017src" title="Return to note 51 in text.">51</a></span> The natives express their joy at a success in hunting by shouting.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13017src" title="Return to note 51 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13031">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13031src" title="Return to note 52 in text.">52</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 173.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13031src" title="Return to note 52 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13085">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13085src" title="Return to note 53 in text.">53</a></span> The narrator said “resin.” The <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> tree does not produce resin, but a sort of oil. The marks on the two fishes owe their
+origin to this incident.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13085src" title="Return to note 53 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13193">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13193src" title="Return to note 54 in text.">54</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 173.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13193src" title="Return to note 54 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13339">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13339src" title="Return to note 55 in text.">55</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 169.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13339src" title="Return to note 55 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13358">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13358src" title="Return to note 56 in text.">56</a></span> <i>Vide supra</i>, p. 142.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13358src" title="Return to note 56 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch5" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e341">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h2 class="main">THE INTERPRETATION OF ANDAMANESE CUSTOMS AND BELIEFS: CEREMONIAL</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13475src" href="#xd33e13475" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb230">[<a href="#pb230">230</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb231">[<a href="#pb231">231</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13492src" href="#xd33e13492" title="Go to note 2.">2</a>. 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb232">[<a href="#pb232">232</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13501src" href="#xd33e13501" title="Go to note 3.">3</a>. The hypothesis, once formulated, is supposed to have been accepted and believed
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb233">[<a href="#pb233">233</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13511src" href="#xd33e13511" title="Go to note 4.">4</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>A second hypothesis explains the beliefs of primitive man as being due to emotions
+of surprise and terror<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13523src" href="#xd33e13523" title="Go to note 5.">5</a>, or of awe and wonder<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13528src" href="#xd33e13528" title="Go to note 6.">6</a> aroused by the contemplation of the phenomena of nature.
+</p>
+<p>Both these hypotheses may be held together, one being used to explain some primitive
+beliefs and the other to explain others<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13535src" href="#xd33e13535" title="Go to note 7.">7</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13545src" href="#xd33e13545" title="Go to note 8.">8</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb234">[<a href="#pb234">234</a>]</span>sentiments<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13558src" href="#xd33e13558" title="Go to note 9.">9</a> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb235">[<a href="#pb235">235</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb236">[<a href="#pb236">236</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13571src" href="#xd33e13571" title="Go to note 10.">10</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb237">[<a href="#pb237">237</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb238">[<a href="#pb238">238</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>In another simple ceremony, the peace-making ceremony of the North Andaman<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13589src" href="#xd33e13589" title="Go to note 11.">11</a>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The purpose of the ceremony is clearly to produce a change <span class="pageNum" id="pb239">[<a href="#pb239">239</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb240">[<a href="#pb240">240</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb241">[<a href="#pb241">241</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13612src" href="#xd33e13612" title="Go to note 12.">12</a>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13615src" href="#xd33e13615" title="Go to note 13.">13</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb242">[<a href="#pb242">242</a>]</span>expressing one and the same emotion<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13624src" href="#xd33e13624" title="Go to note 14.">14</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13629src" href="#xd33e13629" title="Go to note 15.">15</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb243">[<a href="#pb243">243</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb244">[<a href="#pb244">244</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb245">[<a href="#pb245">245</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb246">[<a href="#pb246">246</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb247">[<a href="#pb247">247</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#pb164" class="pageref">164</a>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb248">[<a href="#pb248">248</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb249">[<a href="#pb249">249</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13674src" href="#xd33e13674" title="Go to note 16.">16</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13679src" href="#xd33e13679" title="Go to note 17.">17</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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).
+</p>
+<p>A second effect of the rhythm of the dance is due to the well-known fact that a series
+of actions performed rhythmically <span class="pageNum" id="pb250">[<a href="#pb250">250</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13687src" href="#xd33e13687" title="Go to note 18.">18</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb251">[<a href="#pb251">251</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb252">[<a href="#pb252">252</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb253">[<a href="#pb253">253</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>On the occasion of a dance, particularly if it be a dance of <span class="pageNum" id="pb254">[<a href="#pb254">254</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Dentalium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb255">[<a href="#pb255">255</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>The bride and bridegroom are painted with white clay, and wear ornaments of <i>Dentalium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Dentalium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb256">[<a href="#pb256">256</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>We may conclude therefore that the painting of the body with white clay and the wearing
+of ornaments of <i>Dentalium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb257">[<a href="#pb257">257</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Dentalium</i> 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 <span class="corr" id="xd33e13747" title="Source: some">same</span> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb258">[<a href="#pb258">258</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>In their daily life the Andamanese depend on the <span class="corr" id="xd33e13760" title="Source: instrinsic">intrinsic</span> qualities of the materials they use for their bows and arrows and <span class="pageNum" id="pb259">[<a href="#pb259">259</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Anadendron paniculatum</i> (used for bow-strings and for fine string), the <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i> (used for rope) and the <i lang="la">Gnetum edule</i> (used for string, and inferior to the <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>). All these fibres are believed to possess power to keep away dangers, but there
+is a sort of specialisation in their use.
+</p>
+<p>The fibre of the <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> is used mainly in the hunting of turtle and big fish. Consequently the tree itself
+from which the <span class="pageNum" id="pb260">[<a href="#pb260">260</a>]</span>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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> are not obtainable when the ceremony is performed those of the <i lang="la">Myristica longifolia</i> are used instead. Now this is the tree from which the natives always make their canoe
+paddles, which, like ropes of <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> fibre, are used in hunting turtle. This specialisation is therefore easy to understand;
+the natives habitually make use of the <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> and the <i lang="la">Myristica</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>This explanation is readily verified by considering an exactly parallel instance.
+In the pig-eating ceremony at initiation the leaves of the <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> or the <i lang="la">Myristica</i> 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 <i lang="la">Tetranthera lancæfolia</i>. 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The leaves of the <i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb261">[<a href="#pb261">261</a>]</span>pig-arrows are used in fighting, so that the tree comes to have a special relation
+to the shedding of blood. Plumes of shredded <i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The fibre of the <i lang="la">Anadendron paniculatum</i> 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 <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> seems to possess a special power which makes it a source of protection against dangers
+from the sea. The same is true of the <i lang="la">Gnetum edule</i>, though, as this fibre is less valued than that of the <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>, 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb262">[<a href="#pb262">262</a>]</span>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 <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> and the <i lang="la">Gnetum</i>, which are essentially forest things, are possessed of a quality that makes them
+contrary or opposed to all things of the sea.
+</p>
+<p>Personal ornaments are made from the fibres that have been mentioned (<i lang="la">Hibiscus</i>, <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>, <i lang="la">Gnetum</i>), 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> fibre.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Ficus laccifera</i>. 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 <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>, use the fibre of the <i lang="la">Ficus</i> 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 <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>. In those days much of the power that is now attributed to the <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>, because of its service as the material for bow-strings, must then have been attributed
+to the <i lang="la">Ficus</i>. When the substitution of the superior <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> fibre came about, the belief in the efficacy of the <i lang="la">Ficus</i> 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 <i lang="la">Ficus</i> fibre as an amulet <span class="pageNum" id="pb263">[<a href="#pb263">263</a>]</span>is an example of survival. It may be noted that the qualities of the <i lang="la">Ficus</i> are supposed to be similar to those of the <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>. Thus while one medicine-man stopped a storm with <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>, another did the same thing on another occasion with <i lang="la">Ficus</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb264">[<a href="#pb264">264</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Hibiscus</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb265">[<a href="#pb265">265</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>odu</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">e̱ra-puli</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>We may consider, first of all, the patterns (<i lang="gac">e̱ra-puli</i>) that are made with this clay on the body and face after eating certain foods such
+as pork and turtle.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13945src" href="#xd33e13945" title="Go to note 19.">19</a>.” In another place he says: “After eating pork or turtle they are in the habit of
+smearing <i>og</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb266">[<a href="#pb266">266</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e13954src" href="#xd33e13954" title="Go to note 20.">20</a>.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>ot-kimil</i> and so we take clay and paint ourselves.” Now the word <i>ot-kimil</i> in the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> 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 <i>ot-kimil</i> or <i>er-kimil</i>, 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb267">[<a href="#pb267">267</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Let us examine briefly the word in question. In the languages of the North Andaman
+the stem is <i>-kimil</i>. With the prefix <i>ot-</i> or <i>er-</i> it is used to mean “hot” as in <i>T’ot-kimil-bom</i>, “I am hot,” or <i>Ino ot-kimil bi</i> or <i>Ino er-kimil bi</i>, “The water is hot.” Used by itself the stem <i>kimil</i> 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 <i>aka-kimil</i>, and is addressed or spoken of as <i>Kimil</i>, instead of by his or her proper name. The turtle-eating ceremony is called <i lang="gac">čokbi-kimil</i>, or <i lang="gac">čokbi-ǰo</i> or <i lang="gac">kimil-ǰo</i>, <i lang="gac">čokbi</i> meaning “turtle” and <i lang="gac">ǰo</i> 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.”
+</p>
+<p>In the <i>Aka-Bea</i> language the word “hot” is translated by Mr Portman by the stem <i>uya</i>. The stem <i>kimil</i> appears in the form <i>gumul</i> in only some of the uses it has in the Northern languages. <i>Gumul</i> is the name of the latter part of the rainy season. A youth passing through the initiation
+ceremonies is said to be <i>aka-gumul</i> and is addressed or spoken of as <i>Guma</i>. The turtle-eating ceremony is called <i>gumul-le-ke</i>, <i>le-ke</i> meaning “eating.” The word thus means “the <i>gumul</i> eating” and is the literal equivalent of the <i lang="gac">kimil-ǰo</i> of the North.
+</p>
+<p>The uses of the word <i>kimil</i> may be summarised as follows:
+</p>
+<p>(1) to mean “hot” in the sense of the English word;
+</p>
+<p>(2) in connection with illness;
+</p>
+<p>(3) in speaking of stormy weather;
+</p>
+<p>(4) as the name of the latter part of the rainy season;
+</p>
+<p>(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;
+</p>
+<p>(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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb268">[<a href="#pb268">268</a>]</span></p>
+<p>It is probable, then, that when a native says that after eating food he is <i>ot-kimil</i> 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 <i>Anadendron paniculatum</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb269">[<a href="#pb269">269</a>]</span>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 <i>ot-kimil</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">e̱ra-puli</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>komar</i>; some of the snakes; the internal fat such as the kidney-fat or the intestinal fat
+of pig, turtle, monitor lizard and <i>Paradoxurus</i>; the liver of sharks, sting-rays and <i>Plotosus</i>; and honey. Next in order come the flesh of pigs, turtle, monitor lizard and <i>Paradoxurus</i> 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 <i>Artocarpus</i> fruit and seed. Lowest in the scale, that is, least dangerous, are molluscs and the
+commoner sorts of fish and vegetable foods.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Plotosus</i>, and the fish <i>komar</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb270">[<a href="#pb270">270</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb271">[<a href="#pb271">271</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb272">[<a href="#pb272">272</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb273">[<a href="#pb273">273</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Anadendron paniculatum</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>Now just as materials such as the <i>Anadendron</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb274">[<a href="#pb274">274</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The Andamanese belief in the power of the bones of animals <span class="pageNum" id="pb275">[<a href="#pb275">275</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb276">[<a href="#pb276">276</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb277">[<a href="#pb277">277</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb278">[<a href="#pb278">278</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb279">[<a href="#pb279">279</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>aka-op</i> 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 <i>aka-op</i> is also forbidden to use <i>odu</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb280">[<a href="#pb280">280</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i>Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>, 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
+<i>Hibiscus</i> wood. This is clearly only one more precaution <span class="pageNum" id="pb281">[<a href="#pb281">281</a>]</span>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 <i>odu</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb282">[<a href="#pb282">282</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb283">[<a href="#pb283">283</a>]</span>movements of turtle in the water. The leaves used in the dance are those that possess
+magical efficacy against dangers from turtle.
+</p>
+<p>I have not been able to satisfy myself as to the meaning of the belt and necklace
+of <i>Pothos scandens</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb284">[<a href="#pb284">284</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb285">[<a href="#pb285">285</a>]</span>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 <i>Lau</i> or <i lang="gac">Čauga</i>,—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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Lau</i>.
+</p>
+<p>The burial customs of the Andaman Islanders, however, are <span class="pageNum" id="pb286">[<a href="#pb286">286</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb287">[<a href="#pb287">287</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb288">[<a href="#pb288">288</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14223src" href="#xd33e14223" title="Go to note 21.">21</a>. Like the <i>aka-op</i>, also, the mourner is <span class="pageNum" id="pb289">[<a href="#pb289">289</a>]</span>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 <i>aka-op</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+(<i>aka-odu</i>). 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 (<i>Lau</i>), 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>I have said that the Andamanese believe that by death a man or woman becomes a <i>Lau</i>, but there is a little uncertainty <span class="pageNum" id="pb290">[<a href="#pb290">290</a>]</span>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 (<i>Lau</i>) but as a dead man (<i>empilo</i>). 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 <i>Aka-Kede</i> informant the ceremony was spoken of by the term <i>kimil</i>, which is generally used for the initiation ceremonies, and was described as a <i lang="gac">po̱ro̱to-kimil</i>, i.e., a ceremony in which the dead man ate <i lang="gac">po̱ro̱to</i> (<i>Caryota sobolifera</i>) in just the same way that a youth eats turtle (<i lang="gac">čokbi</i>) at the <i lang="gac">čokbi-kimil</i>. There is independent evidence that there is a special connection between the spirits
+of the dead and the <i>Caryota</i> palm<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14271src" href="#xd33e14271" title="Go to note 22.">22</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i> was used in just the same way as the leaves of the <i>Hibiscus</i> 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 <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i> fibre suspended from it, such as is used in the peace-making ceremony.
+</p>
+<p>The explanation of the use of this <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i> fibre was postponed earlier in the chapter, and may well be undertaken here. It serves
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb291">[<a href="#pb291">291</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Lau-buku</i> (meaning literally “spirit-women” or “female spirits”) to denote women collectively
+instead of the phrase that might be expected—<i lang="gac">n’e-buku</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb292">[<a href="#pb292">292</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14313src" href="#xd33e14313" title="Go to note 23.">23</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb293">[<a href="#pb293">293</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb294">[<a href="#pb294">294</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <i lang="gac">Da Teŋat</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb295">[<a href="#pb295">295</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Eǰido</i>, 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 <i>Kimil</i>. 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).
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb296">[<a href="#pb296">296</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i lang="gac">Čokbi-čiro</i>, turtle-liver, <i lang="gac">Čokbi-tei</i>, turtle-blood, etc.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb297">[<a href="#pb297">297</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb298">[<a href="#pb298">298</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb299">[<a href="#pb299">299</a>]</span>with that world. This is what is meant by the statement that sickness and death come
+from the spirits.
+</p>
+<p>The way the Andamanese think about the spirits is shown in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> legend of the origin of death<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14388src" href="#xd33e14388" title="Go to note 24.">24</a>. <i>Yaramurud</i>, 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 <i>Yaramurud</i> 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 <i>Yaramurud’s</i> brother who was the first to die through the influence of the spirits.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb300">[<a href="#pb300">300</a>]</span>has to make peace with them in the same way that men make peace with one another after
+they have been at war.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14406src" href="#xd33e14406" title="Go to note 25.">25</a>. 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 <i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb301">[<a href="#pb301">301</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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” (<i lang="gac">lau-to̱i</i>, <i lang="gac">čauga-ta</i>). 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>). 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 <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb302">[<a href="#pb302">302</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb303">[<a href="#pb303">303</a>]</span>which they can join, they sing, and thus protect themselves from the spirits that
+are present as the cause of the death.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb304">[<a href="#pb304">304</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">-ǰumu</i> in <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i>). 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 <i lang="gac">ot-ǰumulo</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">ot-ǰumulo</i> that becomes the spirit.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb305">[<a href="#pb305">305</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14463src" href="#xd33e14463" title="Go to note 26.">26</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>We may formulate in precise language the beliefs that underlie the ceremonial, remembering
+always that the Andaman Islanders <span class="pageNum" id="pb306">[<a href="#pb306">306</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Anadendron</i> fibre dangerous to prepare, and it is this also that makes animal bones or the leaves
+of <i>Hibiscus</i> 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb307">[<a href="#pb307">307</a>]</span>of the <i lang="gac">oko-ǰumu</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>It is now at last possible to understand the uses of the word <i>ot-kimil</i> which were first discussed on page <a href="#pb267" class="pageref">267</a> 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
+<i>kimil</i> and is therefore addressed and spoken of by that term, or as we might say “the <i>kimil</i> person.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb308">[<a href="#pb308">308</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14507src" href="#xd33e14507" title="Go to note 27.">27</a>. This is also the explanation of the use of the word to denote a particular season
+of the year. The <i>Kimil</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>Finally, a man who has joined in a dance is said to be <i>ot-kimil</i> 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 <i>ot-kimil</i>.
+</p>
+<p>Thus we see that in its various uses the word <i>ot-kimil</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb309">[<a href="#pb309">309</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="asc">I</span>, 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb310">[<a href="#pb310">310</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>In Codrington’s <i>The Melanesians</i>, 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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb311">[<a href="#pb311">311</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>odu</i> 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 <i lang="la">Trigonostemon</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Sterculia</i> called in the North Andaman <i lang="gac">ǰeru</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb312">[<a href="#pb312">312</a>]</span>the different odoriferous flowers that are in bloom at different times. Their calendar
+is a calendar of scents<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14560src" href="#xd33e14560" title="Go to note 28.">28</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>We can now at last return to the rite of painting the body with <i>odu</i> clay after eating. I have suggested that the use of this <span class="pageNum" id="pb313">[<a href="#pb313">313</a>]</span>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 <i>odu</i> after eating.
+</p>
+<p>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. <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> leaves are efficacious against turtle, but against the pig <i lang="la">Tetranthera</i> 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 <i>odu</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb314">[<a href="#pb314">314</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">kimil-t’e̱ra-puli</i> 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 <a href="#plate11">Plate <span class="asc">XI</span></a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>The act of painting the body with <i>odu</i> clay is therefore a rite which advertises the fact that an individual is in intimate
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb315">[<a href="#pb315">315</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb316">[<a href="#pb316">316</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>Those to whom this prohibition applies are (1) a youth or girl who is <i>aka-op</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Tomo</i>, 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 <i><span id="xd33e14619">to̱l-odu</span></i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb317">[<a href="#pb317">317</a>]</span>between honey and a species of large snake called <i lang="gac">wara-ǰobo</i> or <i lang="gac">or-čubi</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14629src" href="#xd33e14629" title="Go to note 29.">29</a>, 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 <i lang="gac">wara-ǰobo</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb318">[<a href="#pb318">318</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb319">[<a href="#pb319">319</a>]</span>(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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb320">[<a href="#pb320">320</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb321">[<a href="#pb321">321</a>]</span>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 <i>ot-kimil</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Dendrobium</i> 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 <i>Pandanus</i> 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. <span class="corr" id="xd33e14667" title="Source: Ths">This</span> is suggested by the use of the <i>Pandanus</i> leaf in the ceremony at a girl’s first menstruation<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14672src" href="#xd33e14672" title="Go to note 30.">30</a>. I failed to discover any special ideas connected <span class="pageNum" id="pb322a">[<a href="#pb322a">322</a>]</span>with the ornaments of <i>Pandanus</i> 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 <i>Hibiscus</i> or <i>Ficus</i>. These are always made decorative by the addition of shells and yellow <i>Dendrobium</i> skin, and therefore besides their primary function also serve as means of display.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb323">[<a href="#pb323">323</a>]</span>appropriate occasions some of the important social sentiments, thereby maintaining
+them at the necessary degree of energy required to maintain the social cohesion.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Dendrobium</i> (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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14696src" href="#xd33e14696" title="Go to note 31.">31</a>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb324">[<a href="#pb324">324</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>feelings</i> of the Andaman Islander there is always the danger that we may attribute to him <i>conceptions</i> that he does not possess. For he is not himself capable of thinking about his own
+sentiments.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>kimil</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb325">[<a href="#pb325">325</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14715src" href="#xd33e14715" title="Go to note 32.">32</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb326">[<a href="#pb326">326</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Similarly with the phenomena of the weather and all other <span class="pageNum" id="pb327">[<a href="#pb327">327</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>As an example of such modification of primary instincts let us briefly consider that
+of fear, to which, from the time of Petronius<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14736src" href="#xd33e14736" title="Go to note 33.">33</a> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb328">[<a href="#pb328">328</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb329">[<a href="#pb329">329</a>]</span>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb330">[<a href="#pb330">330</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13475">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13475src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> 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 <i>scientific</i> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13475src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13492">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13492src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13492src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13501">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13501src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> Tylor, <i>Primitive Culture</i>, <span class="asc">I</span>, 387.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13501src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13511">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13511src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> Frazer, <i>Totemism and Exogamy</i>, <span class="asc">IV</span>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13511src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13523">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13523src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> Max Müller, <i>Physical Religion</i>, p. 119.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13523src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13528">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13528src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">6</a></span> Marett, <i>Threshold of Religion</i>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13528src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13535">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13535src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">7</a></span> McDougall, <i>Introduction to Social Psychology</i>, Chap. <span class="asc">XIII</span>, seems to combine the two hypotheses.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13535src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13545">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13545src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">8</a></span> For a criticism of the hypotheses of animism and naturism as explanations of primitive
+religion see Durkheim, <i lang="fr">Les Formes Élémentaires de la Vie Religieuse</i>, Book <span class="asc">I</span>, chapters 2 and 3.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13545src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13558">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13558src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">9</a></span> Sentiment,—an organised system of emotional tendencies centred about some object.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13558src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13571">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13571src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">10</a></span> See p. 73 above.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13571src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13589">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13589src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">11</a></span> Page <a href="#pb134" class="pageref">134</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13589src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13612">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13612src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">12</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13612src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13615">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13615src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">13</a></span> McDougall, <i>Social Psychology</i>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13615src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13624">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13624src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">14</a></span> Active sympathy, the habitual sharing of joyful and painful emotions, is of the utmost
+importance in the formation of sentiments of personal attachment.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13624src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13629">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13629src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">15</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13629src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13674">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13674src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">16</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13674src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13679">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13679src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">17</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13679src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13687">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13687src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">18</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13687src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13945">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13945src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">19</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 76.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13945src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e13954">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e13954src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">20</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 333.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e13954src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14223">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14223src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">21</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14223src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14271">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14271src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">22</a></span> Page <a href="#pb171" class="pageref">171</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14271src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14313">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14313src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">23</a></span> The brakes formed by the cane (<i>bido</i>) from the leaves of which the <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i> fibre is obtained seem to be regarded as lurking places of the spirits. The natives
+often speak of the <i lang="gac">Bido-teč-lau</i> (<i>Calamus</i> leaf spirits).&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14313src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14388">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14388src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">24</a></span> Page <a href="#pb216" class="pageref">216</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14388src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14406">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14406src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">25</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14406src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14463">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14463src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">26</a></span> I once drew a few grotesque figures for the amusement of some Andamanese children,
+and they at once pronounced them to be “spirits.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14463src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14507">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14507src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">27</a></span> The Andamanese beliefs about storms and the weather generally will be dealt with in
+the next chapter.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14507src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14560">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14560src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">28</a></span> See above, p. 119.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14560src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14629">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14629src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">29</a></span> See p. 227.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14629src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14672">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14672src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">30</a></span> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb322">[<a href="#pb322">322</a>]</span>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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14672src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14696">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14696src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">31</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14696src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14715">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14715src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">32</a></span> 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 <i lang="fr">Les Formes élémentaires de la Vie religieuse</i>) and by Messieurs H. Hubert and M. Mauss.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14715src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14736" lang="la">
+<p class="footnote" lang="la"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14736src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">33</a></span> Primus in orbe deos fecit timor.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14736src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch6" class="div1 last-child chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e351">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h2 class="main">THE INTERPRETATION OF ANDAMANESE CUSTOMS AND BELIEFS: MYTHS AND LEGENDS</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>I propose to analyse a few of the more important legends, and will begin with the
+<i>Akar-Bale</i> story of the origin of night and day<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14755src" href="#xd33e14755" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>. 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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb331">[<a href="#pb331">331</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb332">[<a href="#pb332">332</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14769src" href="#xd33e14769" title="Go to note 2.">2</a>.
+</p>
+<p>The interpretation that I would offer of the <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb333">[<a href="#pb333">333</a>]</span>as a postulate. Granting this it remains only to show that the legend does express
+the social value of night as defined above.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14780src" href="#xd33e14780" title="Go to note 3.">3</a>.
+</p>
+<p>The legend of the <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb334">[<a href="#pb334">334</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 (<i>Lau</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>The <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> informant. The reference is found, however, in the version recorded by Mr Man<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14798src" href="#xd33e14798" title="Go to note 4.">4</a> and it is implicit even in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb335">[<a href="#pb335">335</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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, <i lang="gac">Ko̱ŋoro</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb336">[<a href="#pb336">336</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Aka-Bea</i> tribe, and given above<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14826src" href="#xd33e14826" title="Go to note 5.">5</a>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Da Teŋat</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb337">[<a href="#pb337">337</a>]</span>story, that there is an important connection between the name of an object and its
+social value<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14841src" href="#xd33e14841" title="Go to note 6.">6</a>.) 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.
+</p>
+<p>There is one point that is not very plain in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> version, but I think we must take it that <i lang="gac">Da Teŋat</i> 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 <i>Aka-Bea</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14856src" href="#xd33e14856" title="Go to note 7.">7</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb338">[<a href="#pb338">338</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>The events of the legend are supposed to have taken place at a spot named <i>Golugma</i>. 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 <i>Golugma Bud</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>One of the minor motives of the <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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 <i lang="gac">teŋat</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">teŋat</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">ko̱ŋoro</i>. This is a species of small red ant. Whenever I heard this story told or referred
+to, this particular incident (the successful singing of <i lang="gac">ko̱ŋoro</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> version of the same legend<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14894src" href="#xd33e14894" title="Go to note 8.">8</a> it was <i lang="gac">Pe̱tie</i>, 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb339">[<a href="#pb339">339</a>]</span>this animal occupies in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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 <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> story-teller falls back on the monitor lizard.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> and the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> versions it can be shown that the identity of the chief actor is a minor and not
+a major motive.
+</p>
+<p>If we compare the <i>Akar-Bale</i> legend with the <i>Aka-Bea</i> 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 <i>Aka-Bea</i> story it is the killing of a grub (<i>gurug</i>) that brings on the night, which is itself called <i>gurug</i>. 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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> version makes use of the connection between night and day and the cicada, while the
+<i>Aka-Bea</i> story makes a similar use of some connection (not yet explained) between the night
+and a grub.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb340">[<a href="#pb340">340</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb341">[<a href="#pb341">341</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14946src" href="#xd33e14946" title="Go to note 9.">9</a> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14955src" href="#xd33e14955" title="Go to note 10.">10</a> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14961src" href="#xd33e14961" title="Go to note 11.">11</a>. In an <i>Akar-Bale</i> version <i lang="gac">Dim-do̱ri</i>, now <span class="pageNum" id="pb342">[<a href="#pb342">342</a>]</span>a fish, obtained the fire and burnt some of the ancestors with it so that they became
+fishes<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14972src" href="#xd33e14972" title="Go to note 12.">12</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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?
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb343">[<a href="#pb343">343</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e14987src" href="#xd33e14987" title="Go to note 13.">13</a> to the effect that “it was on account of the fire (i.e. of the possession of fire)
+that the ancestors became alive.”
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> (<i>Puluga</i>) 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 <i>Biliku</i>. 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 <i>Aka-Kede</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb344">[<a href="#pb344">344</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb345">[<a href="#pb345">345</a>]</span>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 <i>Maia Taolu</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Aka-Kede</i> version<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15018src" href="#xd33e15018" title="Go to note 14.">14</a> the dove is mentioned as having saved the <span class="pageNum" id="pb346">[<a href="#pb346">346</a>]</span>fire. The connection between the dove and the fire (which appears in other legends)<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15026src" href="#xd33e15026" title="Go to note 15.">15</a> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The details of the legends may be briefly mentioned. One <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> version<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15037src" href="#xd33e15037" title="Go to note 16.">16</a> 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 <i>Biliku</i> myth.
+</p>
+<p>Another legend from the same tribe<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15047src" href="#xd33e15047" title="Go to note 17.">17</a> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The <i>Aka-Kede</i> version<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15055src" href="#xd33e15055" title="Go to note 18.">18</a> 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 <i lang="gac">čarami-lebek</i>, having lowered the surviving ancestors to the ground with their fire, remained at
+the top of the <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> tree and has been there ever since. The <i lang="gac">Aka-Ko̱l</i> version of the same story<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15071src" href="#xd33e15071" title="Go to note 19.">19</a> simply states that the ancestors were turned into animals in a cyclone, but contains
+no mention of the rescue of the fire.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb347">[<a href="#pb347">347</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15081src" href="#xd33e15081" title="Go to note 20.">20</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb348">[<a href="#pb348">348</a>]</span>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 <i>Aka-Kede</i> tribe which accounts for the simultaneous origin of the civet-cat and the pigs through
+a game of the ancestors<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15092src" href="#xd33e15092" title="Go to note 21.">21</a>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15098src" href="#xd33e15098" title="Go to note 22.">22</a>, 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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The repeated mention of the <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> story the whole forest is said to have sprung from a <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> seed dropped by <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb349">[<a href="#pb349">349</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Let us now briefly examine the story of the origin of animals as recorded from the
+<i>Akar-Bale</i> tribe<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15121src" href="#xd33e15121" title="Go to note 23.">23</a>. There are three variants of this story. The one recorded from an <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> informant<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15130src" href="#xd33e15130" title="Go to note 24.">24</a> must really be regarded, I believe, as an imperfect reproduction of the <i>Akar-Bale</i> version. The version given by Mr Man<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15136src" href="#xd33e15136" title="Go to note 25.">25</a> is also of <i>Akar-Bale</i> origin, as is shown by the fact that the phrases in it are in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i> and cause a storm.
+</p>
+<p>In some of the other legends we find the same motive. Thus in an <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> legend<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15153src" href="#xd33e15153" title="Go to note 26.">26</a> the flood is said to have been caused by one of the ancestors breaking firewood while
+the cicada was singing. In an <i>Aka-Kede</i> version<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15161src" href="#xd33e15161" title="Go to note 27.">27</a> this part of the story is further elaborated, and a reason is given for this action
+on the part of the ancestor. <i lang="gac">Ko̱po-tera-wat</i> 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 <i>Aka-Kede</i> version and also, as we shall see, in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb350">[<a href="#pb350">350</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> (<i>Puluga</i>). This element will have to be considered in relation to the <i>Biliku</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb351">[<a href="#pb351">351</a>]</span>Andaman Islander feels about the fire as being the one thing on which the society
+most completely depends for its welfare.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Let us now turn to the legends that concern <i>Biliku</i> (<i>Puluga</i>) and <i>Tarai</i> (<i>Deria</i>), 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb352">[<a href="#pb352">352</a>]</span>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 <i>Kimil</i> (<i>Gumul</i> of <i>Aka-Bea</i>). We have seen in the last chapter that the word <i>kimil</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> myth.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> is <i lang="gac">to̱ko-po̱r</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb353">[<a href="#pb353">353</a>]</span>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 <i>Kimil</i> 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 <i>Kimil</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>. 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
+<i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>. <i>Biliku</i> is associated with the N.E. monsoon; she lives in the N.E.; the wind from that quarter
+is called “the <i>Biliku</i> wind”; to <i>Biliku</i>, therefore, belong the cool and the hot seasons, these being the seasons of the N.E.
+monsoon. <i>Tarai</i> is associated with the S.W. monsoon; he lives in the S.W.; the wind from that quarter
+is called “the <i>Tarai</i> wind,” or, in <i>Aka-Bea</i>, simply <i>Deria</i>; to <i>Tarai</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb354">[<a href="#pb354">354</a>]</span>represent the changes of the latter as though they were the actions of human or anthropomorphic
+beings.
+</p>
+<p>In the mass of beliefs and stories relating to <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> 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
+<i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> who first discovered fire, but there are also legends as to the origin of fire in
+which <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i> is regarded as male, while in the North Andaman <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>Applying the strict method outlined above, we may begin by noting that there is complete
+unanimity in regard to the connection of <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15290src" href="#xd33e15290" title="Go to note 28.">28</a>. 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 <i>Tarai</i> <span class="pageNum" id="pb355">[<a href="#pb355">355</a>]</span>wind” (not, be it noted, “the wind of <i>Tarai</i>”); the N.E. (or more accurately N.N.E.) wind is called “the <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Aka-Bea</i> and <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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 <i>Deria</i> and the other with <i>Puluga</i>. In these two tribes, as in the North Andaman, practically no notice is taken of
+the existence of winds from other quarters. In the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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 <i>Teria</i>; the other winds (of which a number are recognized) are all called <i>Bilik</i>. Thus <i>Bilik</i> 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, <i>Teria</i>, or as it would be better rendered in English “the <i>Teria</i>.” The other winds are called by compound names such as <i lang="gac">Me̱tepur Bilik</i>, <i lang="gac">Ko̱ičo Bilik</i>, etc., which we can only translate as “the N.E. <i>Bilik</i>,” “the East <i>Bilik</i>,” etc.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>; 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
+<i>Bilik</i>” or “the <i>Biliku</i> wind” and not “<i>Biliku’s</i> wind.” The second is that only the S.W. wind is associated with <i>Tarai</i> and all the other winds are associated with <i>Biliku</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb356">[<a href="#pb356">356</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe by the name <i>Bilik</i> 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 <i>Teria</i> or <i>Tarai</i> including the whole of the rainy season except the end and the very beginning, the
+other belonging to <i>Bilik</i> (<i>Biliku</i>) including the <i>Kimil</i> season, the cool season, the hot season, and even the first few days of the rainy
+season. This strict division only appears in the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe, but it will be shown that an approximation to the same notion is found in
+the other tribes.
+</p>
+<p>There is general agreement in all the tribes in the belief that storms are due to
+<i>Biliku</i> or <i>Tarai</i>. Both of them send rain and thunder and lightning, but whenever mention is made in
+the legends of a violent storm it is always <i>Biliku</i> who is mentioned as causing it, and never by any chance <i>Tarai</i>. Thus, in regard to this matter of storms, it is evident that <i>Biliku</i> is more important than <i>Tarai</i>, and this is only one example of the preponderance of <i>Biliku</i> over her consort. This preponderance will need to be explained as one of the essentials
+of the myth<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15394src" href="#xd33e15394" title="Go to note 29.">29</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> (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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb357">[<a href="#pb357">357</a>]</span>change of the monsoon. This gives a further ground of association with <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> between whom the seasons are divided. We have seen that in classifying the winds
+the natives (of one tribe at any rate) associate with <i>Tarai</i> only the steady S.W. wind which brings not cyclones and violent storms but steady
+rain, while all the other winds are associated with <i>Biliku</i>. If this be so it is clear that a cyclone, with its wind veering from one quarter
+to another, must be the work of <i>Biliku</i>. Further, if the <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> over <i>Tarai</i> in the legends. This will be made even more evident as we proceed.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i>; 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.
+</p>
+<p>There is absolute agreement in all the tribes with regard to the belief that <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb358">[<a href="#pb358">358</a>]</span>Now stormy weather and the anger of <i>Biliku</i> are, for the Andaman Islander, one and the same thing, so that to say that the anger
+of <i>Biliku</i> follows the melting of bees’-wax is in one sense simply a statement of actual observable
+fact.
+</p>
+<p>Another belief about which there is absolute unanimity in all parts of the Islands
+is that <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Caryota</i> palm. Amongst the roots and fruits associated with <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>. Further, amongst all the foods of the cool and hot seasons only those are intimately
+connected with <i>Biliku</i> which begin to be available during the <i>Kimil</i> 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 <i>Kimil</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and are spoken of as her foods. The same thing applies to the <i>Caryota sobolifera</i> of which the pith is eaten either raw or cooked. The pith begins to form in the <i>Kimil</i> season, and this highly prized food is available right through the cool season. The
+fruit of the <i>Cycas</i>, which is another of those belonging to <i>Biliku</i>, also begins to ripen at the beginning of the cool weather. As regards the <i>Entada scandens</i>, Kurz, in his <i>Burmese Flora</i>, 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 <i>Biliku</i> are those that begin to be available for food during the <i>Kimil</i> season and are <span class="pageNum" id="pb359">[<a href="#pb359">359</a>]</span>abundant during the cool season. Now the <i>Kimil</i> season, which is really the opening of the N.E. or <i>Biliku</i> 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
+<i>Biliku</i> follows the digging up of yams and the cutting down of the <i>Caryota</i> palm or the gathering of the seeds of the <i>Cycas</i> or <i>Entada</i>, he is stating what is an actual fact.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>, i.e., do the very things that make her angry. We may apply this to the events of
+the <i>Kimil</i> season. The natives begin to dig up yams and collect other vegetable foods, and thereupon
+<i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> is bound to subside and the stormy weather to cease.
+</p>
+<p>There is a third belief that is generally accepted in all parts of the Great Andaman,
+that <i>Biliku</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb360">[<a href="#pb360">360</a>]</span>against making a noise at dawn (while the cicada is singing) is associated not with
+<i>Puluga</i> but with the sun<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15521src" href="#xd33e15521" title="Go to note 30.">30</a>.
+</p>
+<p>The grub of the cicada is eaten during the <i>Kimil</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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, <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Kimil</i> season.
+</p>
+<p>The relation of the cicada to <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb361">[<a href="#pb361">361</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <i>Kimil</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>I was told of a ceremony that was held at the end of the <i>Kimil</i> season in the <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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 <i>Caryota</i> palm anger <i>Biliku</i> and result in storms yet sufficient persistence in these actions, and therefore in
+any others that are displeasing to <i>Biliku</i>, 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
+<i>Biliku</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb362">[<a href="#pb362">362</a>]</span>with <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> with the species of fish, the bird and the two kinds of wood mentioned on page <a href="#pb156" class="pageref">156</a>. In the North Andaman there is a definite association between <i>Biliku</i> and spiders, the generic name for “spider” being <i>biliku</i>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15575src" href="#xd33e15575" title="Go to note 31.">31</a>.
+</p>
+<p>The explanation that I have to offer of these beliefs relating to <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>. When the yams are dug up she is angry, or in other words, storms occur; a storm
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb363">[<a href="#pb363">363</a>]</span><i>is</i> the anger of <i>Biliku</i>. The cessation of the song of the cicada removes one of the possible causes of the
+anger of <i>Biliku</i>, and therefore marks the period of fine weather. That anger appears once more when
+the natives busy themselves with melting bees’-wax.
+</p>
+<p>It may be noted that these beliefs about <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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, <i>Caryota</i>, etc.) are of great value, and they are very highly prized. Thus the foods associated
+with <i>Biliku</i> all have a high value.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15622src" href="#xd33e15622" title="Go to note 32.">32</a>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb364">[<a href="#pb364">364</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Returning now to the subject of <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>, and (2) that it follows immediately from her connection with the N.E. monsoon.
+</p>
+<div class="figure p364width"><img src="images/p364.png" alt="" data-role="presentation" width="266" height="327"><p class="first">The line represents the position of the Andaman Islands. The larger arrows show the
+direction in which the cyclonic disturbance is moving. The smaller arrows show the
+direction of the wind.</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>Taking the second point first, we may note, in the first place, that while <i>Tarai</i> is associated with the steady S.W. wind which blows with very little variation for
+months at a time, <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and not with <i>Tarai</i> is determined by the nature of the phenomena which the <i>Biliku-Tarai</i> myth sets out to explain.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb365">[<a href="#pb365">365</a>]</span></p>
+<p>That the most important attribute of <i>Biliku</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15658src" href="#xd33e15658" title="Go to note 33.">33</a> she is spoken of as being angry with the ancestors, and we know that a cyclone and
+the anger of <i>Biliku</i> are, for the Andaman Islander, one and the same thing. In some of the stories mention
+is made of a great storm that <i>Biliku</i> 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. <i>Tarai</i> is never mentioned in this way, for the rains of the south-west monsoon themselves
+have no such power.
+</p>
+<p>We are now in a position to compare the characters of <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> and explain their relative positions in the myth. The reason for the preponderance
+of <i>Biliku</i> lies in the fact that it is she who sends cyclones, while <i>Tarai</i> sends nothing more than heavy showers of rain. <i>Tarai</i> is never responsible for the destruction of life and property, whereas <i>Biliku</i> is. Thus the preponderance of <i>Biliku</i> follows from the essentials of the myth. Secondly, <i>Tarai</i> is constant, ever the same, whereas <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> season brings a terrific storm, and another year it is much less violent, while,
+from day to day during certain parts of the <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>, 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 <i>Tarai</i>.
+</p>
+<p>Let us now consider the question of the sex of <i>Biliku</i>. On this matter there is a lack of agreement. In the North Andaman <i>Tarai</i> is declared to be male and <i>Biliku</i> female. It can readily be shown that this results from the position of <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> <span class="pageNum" id="pb366">[<a href="#pb366">366</a>]</span>as regulating the seasons. <i>Tarai</i> 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
+<i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Tarai</i> and vegetable foods are the foods of <i>Biliku</i>, there is a sound reason for calling <i>Tarai</i> male and <i>Biliku</i> female.
+</p>
+<p>This way of thinking of <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> myth also.
+</p>
+<p>In the South Andaman however, both <i>Puluga</i> and <i>Daria</i> are said to be male. It can be shown that this view is also appropriate in its way.
+The <i>Akar-Bale</i> say that <i>Puluga</i> and <i>Daria</i> were once friends, but have quarrelled and now live at opposite ends of the earth
+and are perpetually renewing their quarrel. <i>Daria</i> has things to himself for a few months (the S.W. monsoon) and sends his wind; then
+<i>Puluga</i> makes an attack on him; some weeks of unsettled weather ensue while they are fighting,
+until <i>Daria</i> is beaten and <i>Puluga</i> takes over the control of the weather and sends the N.E. wind. By and by, however,
+<i>Daria</i> shows himself again and there is another quarrel, with its unsettled and stormy weather,
+which ends in the <span class="pageNum" id="pb367">[<a href="#pb367">367</a>]</span>defeat of <i>Puluga</i> and the reinstatement for a period of <i>Daria</i>. 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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> myth a successful attempt to describe such a storm in figurative language.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i>Puluga</i> and <i>Daria</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15794src" href="#xd33e15794" title="Go to note 34.">34</a>.
+</p>
+<p>A most important element of the myth is the connection of <i>Biliku</i> (<i>Puluga</i>) with fire. In all the tribes there are legends that represent <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> the storm-sender and lightning.
+</p>
+<p>There are several different beliefs about the lightning. According to one of these
+the lightning (<i>Ele</i>) and the thunder (<i>Korude</i>) are persons, who produce the phenomena of the same name. Another belief is that
+thunder and lightning are produced by <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>. On the whole, it would seem that <span class="pageNum" id="pb368">[<a href="#pb368">368</a>]</span>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., <i>Biliku</i> <i lang="gac">čatobom</i>, or <i lang="gac">Tarai čatobom</i>; “<i>Biliku</i> (or <i>Tarai</i>) is at work.” There are different accounts, however, of the way in which <i>Biliku</i> 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 (<i>be</i>) similarly flung; yet a third statement is that she produces the lightning by striking
+a pearl shell (<i>be</i>) on a red stone.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> to the sun I shall deal later.) As the wielder of lightning <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i>be</i>) is used by women alone, and its use is confined to slicing yams and other vegetables
+in preparing them for food. Its association with <i>Biliku</i> therefore follows from the view of <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>. In the South Andaman, where <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Aka-Bea</i> word for lightning (<i lang="gac">be-iŋa</i>, the <i lang="gac">-iŋa</i> or <i lang="gac">-ŋa</i> being a suffix) suggests that they may have had a similar belief in the past<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15879src" href="#xd33e15879" title="Go to note 35.">35</a>.
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman the two views of lightning as a fire-brand and as a shell are
+both held, because they both, in <span class="pageNum" id="pb369">[<a href="#pb369">369</a>]</span>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 <i>Biliku</i> produces lightning by striking a pearl shell against a red stone.
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman the action of throwing a shell or a fire-brand is regarded as
+typical of <i>Biliku</i>; 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, <i>Biliku</i> was represented by the dancer holding a shell in his hand and dancing round threatening
+to throw the shell at the spectators.
+</p>
+<p>The representation of <i>Biliku</i> or <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and how the latter flung a fire-brand or a shell at the thief.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Puluga</i> is represented as <i>giving</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>This opposition between <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> and <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> legends. She is thus separated from the ancestors in the minds of the natives. In
+the <i>Aka-Kede</i> legend the ancestors eat the foods that <i>Bilika</i> regards as <span class="pageNum" id="pb370">[<a href="#pb370">370</a>]</span>specially belonging to her, and she kills them. As a result the ancestors join together
+and kill <i>Bilika</i>. In the <i>Akar-Bale</i> version something of the same sort appears; <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> legend <i>Bilik</i> goes away from the world in anger because the ancestors steal his fire. In the <i lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</i> version <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and human beings, based on the fact that the latter venture to make use of the things
+(yams, etc.) that <i>Biliku</i> regards as peculiarly her property. There can be no doubt that this is the usual
+way in which the Andamanese conceive the relation between <i>Biliku</i> and the ancestors, and therefore, since the ancestors represent the society in its
+beginnings, between <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>This view of <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Puluga</i> as those that Mr Man represents as being the views commonly held in the tribes he
+studied (<i>Aka-Bea</i> and <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i>), yet there is no doubt that at times, and more particularly in the southern tribes,
+the natives do regard <i>Puluga</i> as the benefactor and even the creator of the human race<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e15972src" href="#xd33e15972" title="Go to note 36.">36</a>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb371a">[<a href="#pb371a">371</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The representation of <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>. The revolution of the seasons brings to the Andamanese new supplies of relished
+foods,—the grubs of the <i>Kimil</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>, as the personification of this season, is herself the giver of good things. This
+aspect finds a partial expression in the legends. <i>Biliku</i> is regarded as having created or discovered the use of all the natural productions
+associated with her. (In one legend it is <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i>, the son of <i>Biliku</i>, 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> who was similarly responsible for the arts practised by men.
+</p>
+<p>This view of <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>, 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,
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb372">[<a href="#pb372">372</a>]</span>these two aspects of <i>Biliku</i> are both integral parts of the myth.
+</p>
+<p>But <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+<i>Biliku</i> as the source from which comes the fire is also the source of life. This view of
+<i>Biliku</i> is certainly to be found in all parts of the islands, though it has been developed
+more in the South than in the North. <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>For the honour of this position <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>, is regarded as belonging to her or made by her. For instance, in an <i>Aka-Kede</i> legend, she is stated to have made the sun by throwing a flaming brand into the sky.
+By this means <i>Biliku</i> becomes the sole source of fire and therefore of life. This is the position that
+<i>Puluga</i> occupies in the versions of the legends recorded by Mr Man. In those legends <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Čara</i> 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 <i>Tomo</i> who is associated with the sun. Men and women, when they die, go to live with <i>Tomo</i> in the sky. It is <i>Tomo</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb373">[<a href="#pb373">373</a>]</span><i>Tomo</i> who made it so. In Mr Man’s account <i>Tomo</i> is degraded to the position of being merely the first man made by <i>Puluga</i>, but in the accounts that were given to me by the natives of the <i>Akar-Bale</i> and <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribes <i>Tomo</i> was a rival of <i>Puluga</i>; sometimes one and sometimes the other was spoken of as being the supreme maker of
+all things. An <i>Akar-Bale</i> man of very high intelligence, who had been educated as a Christian, in trying to
+explain to me statements about <i>Tomo</i> made by another <i>Akar-Bale</i> who was regarded as an authority on the legends of his tribe, said that <i>Tomo</i> was the same thing to the <i>Akar-Bale</i> that God is to the Christian. When I asked him if it was not rather <i>Puluga</i> 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 <i>Tomo</i> and not <i>Puluga</i> who occupied the position<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16086src" href="#xd33e16086" title="Go to note 37.">37</a>.
+</p>
+<p>There is only one more point that needs to be discussed, and that is the connection
+of <i>Biliku</i> with the spirits. It is clear that <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> must be distinguished from the spirits (<i>Lau</i>), yet at the same time <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>, 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb374">[<a href="#pb374">374</a>]</span>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 <i>Anadendron</i> creeper, it is to the spirits of the sea, who are afraid of arrows and of the <i>Anadendron</i>, that the storm is attributed, and not to <i>Biliku</i>.
+</p>
+<p>In the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe I found an association of <i>Bilik</i> with the spirits. One man of this tribe (a medicine-man or dreamer) stated that the
+<i>Bilik</i> are a distinct class of spirits, distinct from the <i>Lau</i> and the <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i>, yet similar to them. It is the <i>Bilik</i> who control the weather. Certain men, when they die, become not <i>Lau</i> or <i lang="gac">J̌urua</i>, but <i>Bilik</i>. 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 <i lang="gac">Boičo Bilik</i>, <i lang="gac">Boičo</i> having been his name when he was alive. A medicine-man is able to control the weather
+through his communication with the <i>Bilik</i> in dreams. In this tribe therefore we find a doctrine according to which <i>Bilik</i> 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 <i lang="gac">Boičo</i> about whom my informant <i>Tora</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Bilik</i> and <i>Teria</i>. 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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb375">[<a href="#pb375">375</a>]</span>conflicts with the view of the weather and the seasons as controlled by <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>, 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 <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe.
+</p>
+<p>I have dealt with most of the more important details of the <i>Biliku-Tarai</i> 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. <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>; thus the fear of a cyclone at certain periods of the year is expressed as a fear
+of the anger of <i>Biliku</i>. 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 <i>Biliku</i> with the digging up of yams, and similarly in the cases of honey and the cicada.
+As <i>Biliku</i> is associated with vegetable foods, and these are things with which women chiefly
+have to do, <i>Biliku</i> (in the North Andaman) is regarded as female; <i>Tarai</i>, being associated with flesh foods, is male; the two are therefore conceived as wife
+and husband. As the maker of storms <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i>, 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <i>Biliku</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb376">[<a href="#pb376">376</a>]</span>alternative myth that gives this position to a being associated with the sun.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb377">[<a href="#pb377">377</a>]</span>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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i>Mimi Bat</i>). 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, <i>Ele</i> is the name of the lightning, and <i>Ele</i> is spoken of as a person; yet, if we enquire further, we are told that <i>Ele</i> (the person) produces the lightning by shaking his leg. A somewhat similar case is
+that of <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>. 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 (<i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> tribe) the S.W. wind is called <i>Teria</i>, and the other winds are all called <i>Bilik</i>. 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 <i>Biliku</i> wind” and “the <i>Tarai</i> wind.” It is necessary to insist on this translation of the native <i lang="gac">Biliku bo̱to</i> and <i lang="gac">Tarai bo̱to</i>. We should expect, if <i>Biliku</i> were simply a person who produced the <span class="pageNum" id="pb378">[<a href="#pb378">378</a>]</span>winds, that the latter would be called “the wind of <i>Biliku</i>,” a possessive form (<i lang="gac">Biliku ičo bo̱to</i>) being used, but this is not so, and the phrase habitually used can only be properly
+translated “the <i>Biliku</i> wind” just as we might say “the north wind.” Thus, even in the North Andaman <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> are used as the names of the two chief winds.
+</p>
+<p>In all these cases, sun and moon, <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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?
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb379">[<a href="#pb379">379</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb380">[<a href="#pb380">380</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>This explanation of the nature of personification helps us to understand some of the
+Andamanese beliefs. Natural <span class="pageNum" id="pb381">[<a href="#pb381">381</a>]</span>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 <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The personification of natural phenomena is not, however, the only method by which
+their social value can be expressed. <span class="pageNum" id="pb382">[<a href="#pb382">382</a>]</span>The <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb383">[<a href="#pb383">383</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <i lang="gac">J̌utpu</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>Besides what may be called general culture legends, of which the story of <i lang="gac">J̌utpu</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb384">[<a href="#pb384">384</a>]</span>whose inventions and discoveries he is dependent for his daily nourishment<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16344src" href="#xd33e16344" title="Go to note 38.">38</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb385">[<a href="#pb385">385</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb386">[<a href="#pb386">386</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb387">[<a href="#pb387">387</a>]</span>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 <i>Wota-Emi</i> 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 <i>Wota-Emi</i> is represented in the legends of the <i lang="gac">A-Pučikwar</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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, <i>Kolo</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb388">[<a href="#pb388">388</a>]</span>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 <i>kolo</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> 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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb389">[<a href="#pb389">389</a>]</span>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16387src" href="#xd33e16387" title="Go to note 39.">39</a>. 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 <i>Paradoxurus</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb390">[<a href="#pb390">390</a>]</span>if we can justify the personification of animals by a similar argument.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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,
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb391">[<a href="#pb391">391</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb392">[<a href="#pb392">392</a>]</span>surroundings, that is expressed in the belief in the animals as ancestors.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16414src" href="#xd33e16414" title="Go to note 40.">40</a> explains, not how the animal came into existence (that seems to be assumed), but
+how it acquired its senses. Another legend<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16420src" href="#xd33e16420" title="Go to note 41.">41</a> 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 <i>Akar-Bale</i> legend, but in the North Andaman there is a story of how the dugong originated from
+a pig that <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16431src" href="#xd33e16431" title="Go to note 42.">42</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb393">[<a href="#pb393">393</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb394">[<a href="#pb394">394</a>]</span>In particular the story has ever been a popular medium by which to appeal to sentiments
+of all kinds.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb395">[<a href="#pb395">395</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb396">[<a href="#pb396">396</a>]</span>meaning; nevertheless it does fulfil amongst the Andamanese the same sort of function
+that more developed literary art does in civilised society.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>either-or</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb397">[<a href="#pb397">397</a>]</span>natives about the lightning. The alternative explanation of lightning as a fire-brand
+thrown by <i>Biliku</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>understand</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb398">[<a href="#pb398">398</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Again, many of the legends express the social value of natural phenomena. By reference
+to <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>, 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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb399">[<a href="#pb399">399</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb400">[<a href="#pb400">400</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb401">[<a href="#pb401">401</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb402">[<a href="#pb402">402</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb403">[<a href="#pb403">403</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb404">[<a href="#pb404">404</a>]</span>or fights, and which gives him the feeling of a sudden great addition to his own personal
+force.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>mana</i> in Melanesia, and by the words <i>orenda</i>, <i>wakan</i>, <i>nauala</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Affective modes of experience (sentiments, feelings or <span class="pageNum" id="pb405">[<a href="#pb405">405</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Nevertheless the purpose of these two chapters has been to explain the nature and
+function of the Andamanese religion. <span class="pageNum" id="pb406">[<a href="#pb406">406</a>]</span>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 <i>marae</i> of his god, the Buddhist following the Holy Eight-Staged Path, are all following
+in however different ways the same eternal quest.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb407">[<a href="#pb407">407</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14755">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14755src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> Page <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14755src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14769">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14769src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14769src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14780">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14780src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14780src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14798">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14798src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> Page <a href="#pb215" class="pageref">215</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14798src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14826">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14826src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> Page <a href="#pb221" class="pageref">221</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14826src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14841">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14841src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">6</a></span> Page <a href="#pb294" class="pageref">294</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14841src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14856">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14856src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">7</a></span> Page <a href="#pb215" class="pageref">215</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14856src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14894">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14894src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">8</a></span> Page <a href="#pb213" class="pageref">213</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14894src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14946">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14946src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">9</a></span> Pages <a href="#pb207" class="pageref">207</a> and <a href="#pb204" class="pageref">204</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14946src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14955">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14955src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">10</a></span> Page <a href="#pb207" class="pageref">207</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14955src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14961">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14961src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">11</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14961src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14972">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14972src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">12</a></span> Page <a href="#pb204" class="pageref">204</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14972src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e14987">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e14987src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">13</a></span> Page <a href="#pb203" class="pageref">203</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e14987src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15018">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15018src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">14</a></span> Page <a href="#pb207" class="pageref">207</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15018src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15026">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15026src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">15</a></span> Page <a href="#pb202" class="pageref">202</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15026src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15037">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15037src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">16</a></span> Page <a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15037src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15047">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15047src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">17</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15047src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15055">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15055src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">18</a></span> Page <a href="#pb207" class="pageref">207</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15055src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15071">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15071src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">19</a></span> Page <a href="#pb208" class="pageref">208</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15071src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15081">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15081src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">20</a></span> 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 <i>Morua</i> who, while spoken of as spirits of the sky, are often thought of as living in the
+tops of the tall trees.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15081src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15092">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15092src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">21</a></span> Page <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15092src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15098">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15098src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">22</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15098src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15121">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15121src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">23</a></span> Page <a href="#pb208" class="pageref">208</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15121src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15130">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15130src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">24</a></span> <i>Ibid.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15130src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15136">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15136src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">25</a></span> Page <a href="#pb209" class="pageref">209</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15136src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15153">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15153src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">26</a></span> Page <a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15153src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15161">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15161src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">27</a></span> Page <a href="#pb207" class="pageref">207</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15161src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15290">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15290src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">28</a></span> It appears also in geographical names. <i>Puluga-l’ar-mugu</i>, meaning ‘the Puluga front’ is the name of a part of the Archipelago facing the N.E.
+and means ‘the side facing Puluga.’&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15290src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15394">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15394src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">29</a></span> Although it is generally believed that storms (or more exactly, violent storms or
+cyclones) are the results of the anger of <i>Biliku</i>, yet there is a conflicting belief that storms are made by the spirits, particularly
+the spirits of the sea.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15394src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15521">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15521src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">30</a></span> Page <a href="#pb154" class="pageref">154</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15521src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15575">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15575src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">31</a></span> The application of the name <i>biliku</i> 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 <i>Öluga</i>, 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 (<i>Öluga</i>, <i>Puluga</i>, <i>Bilik</i>, <i>Bilika</i>, <i>Biliku</i>) 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15575src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15622">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15622src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">32</a></span> It is to be noted that these tabus connected with <i>Biliku</i> are not absolute prohibitions; they are beliefs that if certain things are done <i>Biliku</i> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15622src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15658">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15658src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">33</a></span> See, for instance, the <span id="xd33e15660">Aka-J̌eru</span> legend on pages <a href="#pb197" class="pageref">197</a>–<a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>, the Aka-Kede on page <a href="#pb200" class="pageref">200</a> and that from the Akar-Bale tribe on pages <a href="#pb200" class="pageref">200</a>–<a href="#pb201" class="pageref">201</a>, and also the legends on pages <a href="#pb207" class="pageref">207</a>, <a href="#pb208" class="pageref">208</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15658src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15794">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15794src" title="Return to note 34 in text.">34</a></span> In a paper in <i>Folk-lore</i>, vol. xx, 1909, I put forward the hypothesis that probably at one time all the tribes
+of the Andamans regarded <i>Biliku</i> (<i>Puluga</i>) as female, and <i>Tarai</i> (<i>Daria</i>) 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15794src" title="Return to note 34 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15879">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15879src" title="Return to note 35 in text.">35</a></span> The stem <i>be</i> seems to be connected with the idea of cutting.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15879src" title="Return to note 35 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e15972">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e15972src" title="Return to note 36 in text.">36</a></span> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb371">[<a href="#pb371">371</a>]</span>show that the beliefs of the Andamanese about <i>Puluga</i> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e15972src" title="Return to note 36 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16086">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16086src" title="Return to note 37 in text.">37</a></span> 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 <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> in the <i>Biliku-Tarai</i> myth, although this is probably an important matter. Nor have I traced to its source
+the connection of <i>Biliku</i> (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 <i>Tomo</i>, <i>Biliku</i> has yet another competitor for the position of control over the fine weather of the
+hot season, namely the snake, <i lang="gac">or-čubi</i> (<i lang="gac">wara-ǰobo</i>), 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 <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>) and the same connection is shown in the honey-eating ceremony (page <a href="#pb105" class="pageref">105</a>). 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 <i>Puluga</i> that they will call up the <i lang="gac">wara-ǰobo</i> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16086src" title="Return to note 37 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16344">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16344src" title="Return to note 38 in text.">38</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16344src" title="Return to note 38 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16387">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16387src" title="Return to note 39 in text.">39</a></span> 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, <i>Native Tribes of Central Australia</i>, p. 471.) A friend who has observed the monitor lizard in Australia tells me that
+the animal fully deserves its reputation.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16387src" title="Return to note 39 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16414">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16414src" title="Return to note 40 in text.">40</a></span> Page <a href="#pb217" class="pageref">217</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16414src" title="Return to note 40 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16420">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16420src" title="Return to note 41 in text.">41</a></span> Page <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16420src" title="Return to note 41 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16431">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16431src" title="Return to note 42 in text.">42</a></span> Page <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16431src" title="Return to note 42 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="back">
+<div id="appa" class="div1 appendix"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e360">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">APPENDIX A</h2>
+<h2 class="main">THE TECHNICAL CULTURE OF THE ANDAMAN ISLANDERS</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16544src" href="#xd33e16544" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>. 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb408">[<a href="#pb408">408</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure p408width"><img src="images/p408.png" alt="Primitive Andaman Culture" width="565" height="253"></div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>In order to render the exposition and argument that follows more easily understood
+the supposed relations of the different types of culture <span class="pageNum" id="pb409">[<a href="#pb409">409</a>]</span>are shown in the form of a diagram or tree. The justification for this arrangement
+will appear as we proceed.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16566src" href="#xd33e16566" title="Go to note 2.">2</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16580src" href="#xd33e16580" title="Go to note 3.">3</a>.
+</p>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Habitations.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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,
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb410">[<a href="#pb410">410</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="la">Bruguiera</i>), 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#plate07">Plate <span class="asc">VII</span></a> shows a hut of the kind here described. Mats in course of making are shown lying
+on the ground in <a href="#plate06">Plates <span class="asc">VI</span></a> and <a href="#plate07"><span class="asc">VII</span></a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Some huts of this type are provided with a floor raised above the <span class="pageNum" id="pb411">[<a href="#pb411">411</a>]</span>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 <a href="#plate07">Plate <span class="asc">VII</span></a>. Huts are sometimes to be seen with a floor raised as much as three feet above the
+ground.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#plate06">Plate <span class="asc">VI</span></a>.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16641src" href="#xd33e16641" title="Go to note 4.">4</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The natives of the Little Andaman erect hunting camps in the fine <span class="pageNum" id="pb412">[<a href="#pb412">412</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16655src" href="#xd33e16655" title="Go to note 5.">5</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb413">[<a href="#pb413">413</a>]</span>by 4 feet, each of which was probably occupied by a man and his wife and small children<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16665src" href="#xd33e16665" title="Go to note 6.">6</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb414">[<a href="#pb414">414</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb415">[<a href="#pb415">415</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16688src" href="#xd33e16688" title="Go to note 7.">7</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16693src" href="#xd33e16693" title="Go to note 8.">8</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16698src" href="#xd33e16698" title="Go to note 9.">9</a>. 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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb416">[<a href="#pb416">416</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16716src" href="#xd33e16716" title="Go to note 10.">10</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16721src" href="#xd33e16721" title="Go to note 11.">11</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16726src" href="#xd33e16726" title="Go to note 12.">12</a>. In the Zambales huts the upright posts are forked and the horizontal poles are supported
+in the fork.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16731src" href="#xd33e16731" title="Go to note 13.">13</a>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb417">[<a href="#pb417">417</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Hunting, Fishing, etc.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb418">[<a href="#pb418">418</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16751src" href="#xd33e16751" title="Go to note 14.">14</a>.
+</p>
+<p>The principal weapon of the Semang, as of the Andamanese, is the bow and arrow. In
+hunting they also use spears<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16756src" href="#xd33e16756" title="Go to note 15.">15</a>, 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16759src" href="#xd33e16759" title="Go to note 16.">16</a>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16762src" href="#xd33e16762" title="Go to note 17.">17</a>. They also fish with <span class="pageNum" id="pb419">[<a href="#pb419">419</a>]</span>rod and line, the hooks being, as a rule, roughly manufactured from bits of brass
+or other wire<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16767src" href="#xd33e16767" title="Go to note 18.">18</a>. The Semang have no special fighting weapons either offensive or defensive.
+</p>
+<p>In the Philippines some of the Negritos practice a little rude agriculture<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16772src" href="#xd33e16772" title="Go to note 19.">19</a>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16775src" href="#xd33e16775" title="Go to note 20.">20</a>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16778src" href="#xd33e16778" title="Go to note 21.">21</a>. 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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16781src" href="#xd33e16781" title="Go to note 22.">22</a>. In the larger streams of Zambales they make fishing weirs of bamboo, after the manner
+of the Christianised natives of the same part<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e16784src" href="#xd33e16784" title="Go to note 23.">23</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Mimusops littoralis</i>). 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 (<a href="#fig01">Fig. 1</a>) 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., <span class="pageNum" id="pb420">[<a href="#pb420">420</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>The flatter side is the inside of the bow. Referring to the figures, the side marked
+<i>A</i> is that which faces a man as he holds the bow ready to shoot (called here the inside).
+<i>C</i> is thus the right-hand side and <i>D</i> the left-hand. By breadth is meant the distance from <i>C</i> to <i>D</i>, and by thickness the distance from <i>A</i> to <i>B</i>.
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.plates">
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top cell-bottom">
+<div class="figure fig01width" id="fig01"><img src="images/fig01.png" alt="Fig. 1. Section of Little Andaman bow, in the middle and near the end" width="231" height="284"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 1. Section of Little Andaman bow, in the middle and near the end</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top cell-bottom">
+<div class="figure fig02width" id="fig02"><img src="images/fig02.png" alt="Fig. 2. Shoulder of Little Andaman bow" width="124" height="352"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 2. Shoulder of Little Andaman bow</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>At each end of the bow there is a shoulder, as shown in <a href="#fig02">Fig. 2</a>. 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 <i>Dendrobium</i>. In other examples plain string is used, or a strip of twisted <i>Ficus</i> fibre, or even nowadays a twisted strip of cotton cloth.
+</p>
+<p>Bows are never ornamented in the Little Andaman either with paint or with incised
+patterns.
+</p>
+<p>The bow-string of the Little Andaman is made of strips of the bark of the <i>Ficus laccifera</i>. The number and width of the strips used <span class="pageNum" id="pb421">[<a href="#pb421">421</a>]</span>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 (<a href="#fig03">Fig. 3</a>.)
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.plates">
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top cell-bottom">
+<div class="figure fig03width" id="fig03"><img src="images/fig03.png" alt="Fig. 3. Bow-string of twisted fibre, Little Andaman" width="63" height="404"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 3. Bow-string of twisted fibre, Little Andaman</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top cell-bottom">
+<div class="figure fig04width" id="fig04"><img src="images/fig04.png" alt="Fig. 4. Diagram showing the method of making the loop in the end of the Little Andaman bow-string" width="86" height="273"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 4. Diagram showing the method of making the loop in the end of the Little Andaman
+bow-string</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>At one end of the string a loop is made, as shown in <a href="#fig04">Fig. 4</a>. The end is doubled over to make a loop of the right size, a round turn is made over
+the standing part (<i>A</i>) and the end (<i>B</i>) 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb422">[<a href="#pb422">422</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.plates">
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top cell-bottom">
+<div class="figure fig05width" id="fig05"><img src="images/fig05.png" alt="Fig. 5. Section of bow from North Sentinel Island" width="277" height="135"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 5. Section of bow from North Sentinel Island</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top cell-bottom">
+<div class="figure fig06width" id="fig06"><img src="images/fig06.png" alt="Fig. 6. Section of Jarawa bow" width="258" height="171"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 6. Section of Jarawa bow</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig05">Fig. 5</a>, 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb423">[<a href="#pb423">423</a>]</span>the bow of the North Sentinel differs very little from that of the Little Andaman.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig07width" id="fig07"><img src="images/fig07.png" alt="Fig. 7. Upper end of South Andaman bow" width="533" height="112"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 7. Upper end of South Andaman bow</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig06">Fig. 6</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb424">[<a href="#pb424">424</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig08">Fig. 8</a>.)
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig08width" id="fig08"><img src="images/fig08.png" alt="Fig. 8. Section across the blade of a South Andaman bow" width="341" height="160"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 8. Section across the blade of a South Andaman bow</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#plate05">Plate <span class="asc">V</span></a>.
+</p>
+<p>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. (<a href="#fig07">Fig. 7</a>.)
+</p>
+<p>A bow-string is made from the fibre of the <i>Anadendron</i>. 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb425">[<a href="#pb425">425</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Anadendron</i> 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 <a href="#fig09">Fig. 9</a>. 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 <i>Anadendron</i> 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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig09width" id="fig09"><img src="images/fig09.png" alt="Fig. 9. Loop of bow-string, South Andaman" width="283" height="90"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 9. Loop of bow-string, South Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>After the bow has been strung the upper portion, which before was straight, is now
+curved inwards, and the bow therefore appears as <span class="sans">S</span>-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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb426">[<a href="#pb426">426</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Anadendron</i> fibre.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="sans">S</span>-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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig10width" id="fig10"><img src="images/fig10.png" alt="Fig. 10. Ornament on South Andaman bow" width="371" height="43"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 10. Ornament on South Andaman bow</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The bows of the South Andaman group of tribes are always decorated with incised patterns.
+The conventional pattern is shown in <a href="#fig10">Fig. 10</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb427">[<a href="#pb427">427</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="sans">S</span>-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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig11width" id="fig11"><img src="images/fig11.png" alt="Fig. 11. Section across the blade of a North Andaman bow" width="396" height="135"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 11. Section across the blade of a North Andaman bow</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb428">[<a href="#pb428">428</a>]</span>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 <a href="#fig11">Fig. 11</a>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig12">Fig. 12</a>.
+</p>
+<p>The bow-string of the North Andaman is made from <i>Anadendron</i> 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 <i>Anadendron</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb429">[<a href="#pb429">429</a>]</span></p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.plates">
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top">
+<div class="figure fig12width" id="fig12"><img src="images/fig12.png" alt="Fig. 12" width="48" height="720"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 12</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">
+<div class="figure fig13width" id="fig13"><img src="images/fig13.png" alt="Fig. 13" width="227" height="720"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 13</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="colspan cell-left cell-right small">Fig. 12. North Andaman bow seen from the front</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="colspan cell-left cell-right cell-bottom small">Fig. 13. North Andaman bow; <i>A</i>, in the half-strung or reversed position, <i>B</i>, in the fully strung position. The arrow shows the point where the bow is seasoned
+over the fire.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb430">[<a href="#pb430">430</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig13">Fig. 13</a>, <i>A</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig13">Fig. 13</a>, <i>B</i>. It is then ready for immediate use.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb431">[<a href="#pb431">431</a>]</span>use it is in the fully strung position, and at all other times it is kept in the half-strung
+position.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="sans">S</span>-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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Anadendron</i> 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 <a href="#fig14">Fig. 14</a>. It is not <span class="sans">S</span>-shaped, like the toy bow of the South Andaman previously described, but the curvature
+is asymmetrical.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb432">[<a href="#pb432">432</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure floatRight fig14width" id="fig14"><img src="images/fig14.png" alt="Fig. 14. Toy bow of the North Andaman" width="121" height="720"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 14. Toy bow of the North Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb433">[<a href="#pb433">433</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure p433width"><img src="images/p433.png" alt="" data-role="presentation" width="535" height="471"></div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb434">[<a href="#pb434">434</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <span class="sans">S</span>-shaped bow of the Great Andaman has been invented since the separation of the two
+main divisions of the race.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig15width" id="fig15"><img src="images/fig15.png" alt="Fig. 15. Section across the middle of four Semang bows" width="314" height="207"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 15. Section across the middle of four Semang bows</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e17086src" href="#xd33e17086" title="Go to note 24.">24</a>, 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 <a href="#fig15">Fig. 15</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb435">[<a href="#pb435">435</a>]</span>pair of notches and the other has two pairs. The string is two-ply with a loop at
+each end.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e17098src" href="#xd33e17098" title="Go to note 25.">25</a>, (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.
+</p>
+<p>Turning to the Negritos of the Philippine Islands, although a number of bows have
+been described by Meyer<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e17103src" href="#xd33e17103" title="Go to note 26.">26</a>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The Andaman Islanders use two different kinds of arrows, one for shooting fish and
+the other for shooting pigs.
+</p>
+<p>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 (<a href="#fig16">Fig. 16</a>). At this end the shaft is roughened with a <i>Cyrena</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb436">[<a href="#pb436">436</a>]</span>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 (<a href="#fig16">Fig. 16</a>). 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
+<i>Cyrena</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>Arrows of this kind are used for shooting fish, but they also serve to shoot snakes
+or rats and on rare occasions birds.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Tetranthera lancæfolia</i>, cut from the tree and straightened by means of heat. At the narrower end a nock
+about 1 cm. deep is <span class="pageNum" id="pb438">[<a href="#pb438">438</a>]</span>cut, and the arrow is served with thread of <i>Anadendron</i> 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 <i>Anadendron</i> fibre, so as to prevent it from splitting.
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.plates">
+<tr>
+<td rowspan="2" class="rowspan cell-left cell-top">
+<div class="figure fig16width" id="fig16"><img src="images/fig16.png" alt="Fig. 16" width="46" height="720"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 16</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+<td class="cell-top">
+<div class="figure fig17width" id="fig17"><img src="images/fig17.png" alt="Fig. 17" width="145" height="314"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 17</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+<td rowspan="2" class="rowspan cell-right cell-top">
+<div class="figure fig18width" id="fig18"><img src="images/fig18.png" alt="Fig. 18" width="72" height="582"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 18</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+<div class="figure fig19width" id="fig19"><img src="images/fig19.png" alt="Fig. 19" width="299" height="378"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 19</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="3" class="colspan cell-left cell-right small">Fig. 16. Fish-arrow of the Great Andaman</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="3" class="colspan cell-left cell-right small">Fig. 17. Head of pig-arrow, Great Andaman</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="3" class="colspan cell-left cell-right small">Fig. 18. Pig-arrow with detachable head, Great Andaman</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="3" class="colspan cell-left cell-right cell-bottom small">Fig. 19. Method of making the cord of the Great Andaman pig-arrow</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig17">Fig. 17</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Anadendron</i> 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 <i>Anadendron</i> 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” (<a href="#fig19">Fig. 19</a>). 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. (<a href="#fig18">Fig. 18</a>.)
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb439">[<a href="#pb439">439</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> fibre. The binding of the arrow is done with thread of the <i lang="la">Gnetum</i> fibre instead of <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>, 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. (<a href="#fig20">Fig. 20</a>.)
+</p>
+<p>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.
+(<a href="#fig21">Fig. 21</a>.)
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Areca</i> wood. An arrow of this kind, made for me by a native, is shown in <a href="#fig22">Fig. 22</a>.
+</p>
+<p>None of the arrows made in any part of the Andamans is feathered.
+</p>
+<p>In a comparison of the arrows of the Andamanese with those of the Semang and the Philippine
+Negritos the most interesting point is that <span class="pageNum" id="pb441">[<a href="#pb441">441</a>]</span>all three branches of the Negrito race use arrows with detachable heads. Arrows of
+this kind from the Philippines are described by Meyer<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e17230src" href="#xd33e17230" title="Go to note 27.">27</a>.
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="tbl.plates">
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top vam">
+<div class="figure fig20width" id="fig20"><img src="images/fig20.png" alt="Fig. 20" width="83" height="617"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 20</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+<td class="cell-top vam">
+<div class="figure fig21width" id="fig21"><img src="images/fig21.png" alt="Fig. 21" width="103" height="313"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 21</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+<td class="cell-top vam">
+<div class="figure fig22width" id="fig22"><img src="images/fig22.png" alt="Fig. 22" width="48" height="720"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 22</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top vam">
+<div class="figure fig23width" id="fig23"><img src="images/fig23.png" alt="Fig. 23" width="137" height="590"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 23</p>
+</div>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="4" class="colspan cell-left cell-right small">Fig. 20. Pig-arrow, Little Andaman</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="4" class="colspan cell-left cell-right small">Fig. 21. Head of Jarawa pig-arrow</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="4" class="colspan cell-left cell-right small">Fig. 22. Arrow with head of <i>Areca</i> wood, Great Andaman</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="4" class="colspan cell-left cell-right cell-bottom small">Fig. 23. Harpoon, Great Andaman</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e17275src" href="#xd33e17275" title="Go to note 28.">28</a> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Hibiscus</i> 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 <a href="#fig23">Fig. 23</a>.)
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb442">[<a href="#pb442">442</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig24width" id="fig24"><img src="images/fig24.png" alt="Fig. 24. Turtle net, South Andaman" width="540" height="720"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 24. Turtle net, South Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>Harpoons are not used in the Little Andaman. The natives of the Great Andaman say
+that they themselves have only used them since <span class="pageNum" id="pb443">[<a href="#pb443">443</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure floatRight fig25width" id="fig25"><img src="images/fig25.png" alt="Fig. 25. Knot used in making the North Andaman turtle net" width="299" height="259"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 25. Knot used in making the North Andaman turtle net</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Hibiscus</i> 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 <a href="#fig24">Fig. 24</a> <i>b</i>. 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 <a href="#fig25">Fig. 25</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig24">Fig. 24</a>, while to the upper edge are attached a number of floats, each consisting of a long
+thin stick of <i>Hibiscus</i> wood to the upper end of which is attached a tassel of fibre.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>So far as is known it would seem that nets of this description are not used in the
+Little Andaman.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb444">[<a href="#pb444">444</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure floatRight fig26width" id="fig26"><img src="images/fig26.png" alt="Fig. 26. North Andaman fish-gig" width="96" height="595"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 26. North Andaman fish-gig</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman a sort of fish-gig was formerly in use made of about twelve pieces
+of <i>Areca</i> 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 <a href="#fig26">Fig. 26</a>. This weapon was used for spearing small fish in pools on the reef.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Cutting Implements.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The materials used by the Andamanese, apart from iron, are wood, bone, shell and stone.
+We may begin by considering their use of stone.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb445">[<a href="#pb445">445</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb446">[<a href="#pb446">446</a>]</span>the oldest men all agreed in stating that they never used stone for their adzes. We
+may conclude that Colebrooke’s statement is untrustworthy.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e17356src" href="#xd33e17356" title="Go to note 29.">29</a> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb447">[<a href="#pb447">447</a>]</span>the <i>Cyrena</i> 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 <i>Cyrena</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb448">[<a href="#pb448">448</a>]</span>for me, one of <i>Pinna</i> shell, and the other of a shell that I omitted to identify. The <i>Pinna</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure floatRight fig27width" id="fig27"><img src="images/fig27.png" alt="Fig. 27. Boar’s tusk, used as a spokeshave" width="312" height="239"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 27. Boar’s tusk, used as a spokeshave</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Cyrena</i> shell. The edge is near the point (at <i>a</i> in <a href="#fig27">Fig. 27</a>) and the tusk is clasped at the other end between the forefinger and the root of
+the thumb (at <i>b</i> in <a href="#fig27">Fig. 27</a>), the movement being away from the body. It is used for planing bows and paddles,
+and in the <span class="pageNum" id="pb449">[<a href="#pb449">449</a>]</span>hands of an Andaman Islander is a very efficient implement, producing a beautifully
+smooth and even surface.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Cyrena</i> 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 <i>Areca</i> 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 <i>Areca</i> wood is generally attached to it.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig28width" id="fig28"><img src="images/fig28.png" alt="Fig. 28. Adze and knife" width="557" height="284"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 28. Adze and knife</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>As has been already stated the Andamanese formerly used hard wood such as that of
+the <i>Areca</i> palm for the points and heads of their arrows. They do not seem to have made use
+of bamboo in this way.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb450">[<a href="#pb450">450</a>]</span>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 <a href="#fig28">Fig. 28</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Areca</i> wood is shown in <a href="#fig28">Fig. 28</a>.
+</p>
+<p>In the case of the harpoon the native tradition is that this implement was only made
+after they had discovered the use of iron.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e17442src" href="#xd33e17442" title="Go to note 30.">30</a>. The shapes of the iron weapons and implements which they make follow fairly closely
+those made by the Malays.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">String, Rope, Mats, Baskets, and Netting.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">For string, rope and thread the Andaman Islanders make use of a number of different
+vegetable substances, but they make no use whatever <span class="pageNum" id="pb451">[<a href="#pb451">451</a>]</span>of any animal substances. Some of the more important fibres, with their uses and the
+methods of preparing them, are mentioned below.
+</p>
+<p>The bark of the <i>Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>, 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 <i>Hibiscus</i> 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 <i>Hibiscus</i> 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 <i>Hibiscus</i> 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 <i>Hibiscus</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Cyrena</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>Mr E.&nbsp;H. Man, in his work on the Andamans, speaks of the <i lang="la">Melochia velutina</i> as providing fibre for rope. This is an error. The tree to which Mr Man refers is
+the <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>. 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb452">[<a href="#pb452">452</a>]</span>the <i lang="la">Melochia velutina</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i> tree labelled “<i lang="la">Melochia velutina</i>.” I looked carefully in the Andaman jungles for the <i lang="la">Melochia velutina</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Sterculia</i> (<i lang="la">S. villosa?</i>), and a tree that I identified somewhat doubtfully as <i lang="la">Grewia laevigata</i>. 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>. Very little actual use is made of them however. A fibre which looks very like that
+obtained from one species of <i lang="la">Sterculia</i> 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
+<i lang="la">Celtis cinnamonea</i>.
+</p>
+<p>A species of <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i>, which I believe is <i lang="la">Hibiscus scandens</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>There are several species of <i lang="la">Ficus</i> 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 <i lang="la">Ficus laccifera</i>. 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 <i>ulu</i>, and said by Mr Portman to be obtained from the <i lang="la">Ficus hispida</i>, is used in that island, and by the Jarawa, for making personal ornaments.
+</p>
+<p>The <i lang="la">Gnetum edule</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Cyrena</i> 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb453">[<a href="#pb453">453</a>]</span>netted bags and fishing nets. In the Little Andaman it is used for binding their arrows,
+as well as for netting.
+</p>
+<p>The most valuable fibre of the Great Andaman tribes is that of the <i lang="la">Anadendron paniculatum</i>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> 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 <i lang="la">Cyrena</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The Andaman jungles have a number of different species of <i lang="la">Calamus</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Calamus tigrinus</i> 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 <i lang="la">Cyrena</i> shell, and the strips are dried in the sun and then made into mats.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb454">[<a href="#pb454">454</a>]</span>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 <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i> in Aka-Jeru and <i>ara</i> 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 <a href="#plate19">Plate <span class="asc">XIX</span></a>.)
+</p>
+<p>Two plants that were not identified are used in the North Andaman for making baskets.
+The methods of preparing these will be described later.
+</p>
+<p>The natives of the Great Andaman Division make use of the leaves of the <i lang="la">Pandanus Andamanensium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>The pods of one or more species of <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> fibre are very strong and durable, being quite as good as the best hempen ropes of
+the same diameter. In rope-making the <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> or other fibre (<i lang="la">Sterculia</i> or <i lang="la">Grewia</i>) 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 (<i>kutobi</i> in Aka-Jeru) made by tying together crossways two pieces of cane or wood <span class="pageNum" id="pb455">[<a href="#pb455">455</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>String is made in this way from the fibre of <i lang="la">Anadendron</i>, <i lang="la">Gnetum</i> and <i lang="la">Hibiscus scandens</i> in the Great Andaman Division, and from <i lang="la">Gnetum</i> and <i>ulu</i> fibre in the Little Andaman. In the Great Andaman string made from <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> fibre is rendered more durable by being waxed with black bee’s-wax, but this treatment
+is not considered <span class="pageNum" id="pb456">[<a href="#pb456">456</a>]</span>necessary for string made from <i lang="la">Gnetum</i> fibre or from <i lang="la">Hibiscus scandens</i>.
+</p>
+<p>Ornamental rope is made for men’s belts in the Great Andaman. <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> fibre is twisted into a single strand. Around this strand strips of <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> skin are wound spirally so that it is entirely covered, and the strand itself is
+twisted into a two-ply cord.
+</p>
+<p>Two other forms of cord have been already mentioned, namely the bow-string, of twisted
+fibre of the <i lang="la">Ficus laccifera</i> in the Little Andaman, and of wrapped fibre of the <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> 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 <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf in the Great Andaman.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig29width" id="fig29"><img src="images/fig29.png" alt="Fig. 29. Method of making bamboo mat, Little Andaman" width="530" height="327"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 29. Method of making bamboo mat, Little Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig29">Fig. 29</a> which shows the back and the front of a portion of such a mat. It is that usually
+known as wrapped-twined work.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig30">Fig. 30</a>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb457">[<a href="#pb457">457</a>]</span>
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig30width" id="fig30"><img src="images/fig30.png" alt="Fig. 30. Diagram showing the technique used in making mats of thatch" width="302" height="243"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 30. Diagram showing the technique used in making mats of thatch</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>The natives of the Great Andaman make sleeping mats from the outer sheath of the leaf-stem
+of the <i lang="la">Calamus tigrinus</i>. 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 <i lang="la">Gnetum</i> fibre, but occasionally of <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>In the North the technique, which is represented diagrammatically in <a href="#fig31">Fig. 31</a>, <i>A</i> 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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig31width" id="fig31"><img src="images/fig31.png" alt="Fig. 31. Diagram showing the technique used in Great Andaman mats A, North Andaman; B, South Andaman" width="374" height="119"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 31. Diagram showing the technique used in Great Andaman mats <i>A</i>, North Andaman; <i>B</i>, South Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig31">Fig. 31</a>, <i>B</i>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb458">[<a href="#pb458">458</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Licuala</i> 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 (<a href="#fig32a">Fig. 32 <i>a</i></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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb459">[<a href="#pb459">459</a>]</span>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 <a href="#fig32a">Fig. 32 <i>a</i></a> and <a href="#fig32b"><i>b</i></a>.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig32awidth" id="fig32a"><img src="images/fig32a.png" alt="Fig. 32 a" width="498" height="500"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 32 <i>a</i></p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig33">Fig. 33</a>. 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb460">[<a href="#pb460">460</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig32bwidth" id="fig32b"><img src="images/fig32b.png" alt="Fig. 32 b. Pot, tied up for carrying, North Andaman" width="507" height="675"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 32 <i>b</i>. Pot, tied up for carrying, North Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb461">[<a href="#pb461">461</a>]</span>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 <i lang="la">Licuala</i> palm.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig33width" id="fig33"><img src="images/fig33.png" alt="Fig. 33. Basket for carrying pot, South Andaman" width="465" height="398"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 33. Basket for carrying pot, South Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig34">Fig. 34</a>. 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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb462">[<a href="#pb462">462</a>]</span>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 <a href="#fig34">Fig. 34</a>). 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 <a href="#fig34">Fig. 34</a>. 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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig34width" id="fig34"><img src="images/fig34.png" alt="Fig. 34. Portion of basket of Little Andaman" width="449" height="347"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 34. Portion of basket of Little Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb463">[<a href="#pb463">463</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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. <span class="pageNum" id="pb464">[<a href="#pb464">464</a>]</span>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 <a href="#fig35">Fig. 35</a>). 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 <a href="#fig35">Fig. 35</a>.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig35width" id="fig35"><img src="images/fig35.png" alt="Fig. 35. Portion of basket of South Andaman" width="437" height="555"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 35. Portion of basket of South Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb465">[<a href="#pb465">465</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>A handle of <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> fibre is attached to the rim and rests across the front of the chest when the basket
+is carried on the back.
+</p>
+<p>South Andaman baskets are sometimes ornamented, in the process of making, with strips
+of <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> skin, applied horizontally by overlaid interlacing. The strip of <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> skin is laid over the weft and woven in with it for one turn round the basket. I
+have never seen ornamentation with <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> skin applied to the South Andaman baskets by any method save this one.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">čup-to̱i</i>. 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
+<i>Cyrena</i> shell. These strips are to form the stakes or warp of the basket. The other material
+is another creeper called <i>bobi</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>A bundle of strips of the <i lang="gac">čup-to̱i</i> 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 <i>bobi</i>, 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 <i>bobi</i> 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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb466">[<a href="#pb466">466</a>]</span>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
+<i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> fibre is added.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig36width" id="fig36"><img src="images/fig36.png" alt="Fig. 36. Pig’s skull with basket-work, Jarawa" width="675" height="395"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 36. Pig’s skull with basket-work, Jarawa</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>In the North Andaman baskets are ornamented as they are made with worked-in strips
+of <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb467">[<a href="#pb467">467</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig36">Fig. 36</a> the basket-work in question is of simple wrapped work, the material being strips
+of cane.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb468">[<a href="#pb468">468</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb469">[<a href="#pb469">469</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb470">[<a href="#pb470">470</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb471">[<a href="#pb471">471</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>The same thing would seem to apply to the present basket-work of the Philippine Negritos,
+of which however we know very little.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig37width" id="fig37"><img src="images/fig37.png" alt="Fig. 37. Diagram showing netting needle, and method of netting" width="340" height="396"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 37. Diagram showing netting needle, and method of netting</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Gnetum edule</i> in the Little Andaman, and is generally made from the same fibre in the Great Andaman,
+but in the latter division the fibre of <i lang="la">Hibiscus scandens</i> is prized for this purpose and is used instead of that of the <i lang="la">Gnetum</i> when it is available. Small hand fishing nets are made by the women in both divisions
+from thread of <i lang="la">Gnetum</i> fibre. In the Great Andaman Division netting is also used for personal ornaments,
+the thread used for this purpose being generally made from <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> fibre.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb472">[<a href="#pb472">472</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>a</i> in the figure, and is drawn through far enough to leave a new loop <i>b</i> 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 <i>b</i> again from above and is drawn out leaving a loop <i>c</i>, through which the needle is passed once more, forming the finished knot, which is
+then drawn taut.
+</p>
+<p>When netting is made for personal apparel it is generally ornamented with strips of
+<i>Dendrobium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The nets of rope formerly used in the Great Andaman for catching turtle have been
+already described.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Domestic Implements and Utensils.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb473">[<a href="#pb473">473</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <i>Arca</i> 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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig38width" id="fig38"><img src="images/fig38.png" alt="Fig. 38. Shape of North Andaman pot; actual diameter 17 cm." width="383" height="255"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 38. Shape of North Andaman pot; actual diameter 17 cm.</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb474">[<a href="#pb474">474</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig39width" id="fig39"><img src="images/fig39.png" alt="Fig. 39. Shape of South Andaman pot; actual diameter 24 cm." width="463" height="259"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 39. Shape of South Andaman pot; actual diameter 24 cm.</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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, <i lang="gac">buču</i> in the Little Andaman, <i lang="gac">buǰ</i> in Aka-Bea and <i lang="gac">peč</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb475">[<a href="#pb475">475</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>A bucket of the shape used in the Great Andaman is shown in <a href="#plate07">Plate <span class="asc">VII</span></a>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Trays used for food are cut from soft wood of a species of <i lang="la">Sterculia</i> with an adze. They are shallow and somewhat long and narrow, with pointed ends.
+</p>
+<p>A large <i>Pinna</i> shell is occasionally used as a tray or dish for holding food, or for mixing clay
+with water for painting. A <i lang="la">Nautilus</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb476">[<a href="#pb476">476</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Hooks for picking fruit, such as the <i lang="la">Artocarpus</i>, 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 <i lang="la">Rhizophora</i> by taking advantage of the natural form where a small branch joins a larger one.
+</p>
+<p>The fan-shaped leaf of a <i lang="la">Licuala</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>Torches are made from resin, which is broken into small pieces and wrapped up in leaves
+of a species of <i lang="la">Crinum</i> (? <i lang="la">lorifolium</i>), 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.
+</p>
+<p>Other torches are made of fragments of rotten <i lang="la">Dipterocarpus</i> wood. They are used only in the village.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Personal Ornament; Great Andaman.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>The following is a list of the various personal ornaments made by the natives of the
+Great Andaman Division, and worn by them.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> fibre or a length of ornamental cord made by wrapping the yellow skin of <span class="pageNum" id="pb477">[<a href="#pb477">477</a>]</span>the <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> over two strands of <i lang="la">Hibiscus</i> fibre and then twisting these into a two-ply cord.
+</p>
+<p>Necklaces and garters of string. Both men and women are often to be seen with a simple
+piece of string, usually of <i lang="la">Anadendron</i> fibre, tied round the neck or around the leg just below the knee.
+</p>
+<p>Ornaments of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf. Every married woman always wears a belt of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> 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 <i lang="la">Pandanus Andamanensium</i> 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 <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> 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 <i lang="gac">toto t’er-bua</i> in Aka-Jeru.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf instead of broad strips. This kind of belt is worn by women only. Examples may
+be seen in <a href="#plate04">Plate <span class="asc">IV</span></a> (the lower belt of the two) and in <a href="#plate18">Plate <span class="asc">XVIII</span></a>. It is called <i>toto t’er-nyarab</i> in Aka-Jeru.
+</p>
+<p>A belt is made in much the same way out of <i>Pandanus</i> 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 <i>kudu</i> in Aka-Jeru.
+</p>
+<p>Yet another variety of belt is made of whole leaves in exactly the same way as the
+<i lang="gac">toto t’er-bua</i> but has no tassel at the back. An example may be seen in <a href="#plate04">Plate <span class="asc">IV</span></a> (the upper belt). It is worn by women.
+</p>
+<p>Girdles are made of strips of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf of about 1·25 cm. broad without any tassel, but with strings of <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> shell attached at various points. A girdle of this kind is shown in <a href="#plate15">Plate <span class="asc">XV</span></a>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb478">[<a href="#pb478">478</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">toto t’er-bua</i> is attached to the back, and very frequently strings of <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> shell are attached at various points. Such a girdle may be worn by either men or
+women. It is called <i lang="gac">toto t’er-ŋau</i> in Aka-Jeru.
+</p>
+<p>Yet another kind of girdle is made by splitting <i>Pandanus</i> 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 <i lang="gac">toto t’er-bua</i> is added at the back. Such girdles are usually improved by the addition of a few
+pendent strings of <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> shell. They may be worn by either men or women. Their name in Aka-Jeru is <i lang="gac">toto t’er-mo̱i</i>.
+</p>
+<p>Ornaments of <i>Pandanus</i> 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 <i>toto t’er-bua</i>, each having a tassel of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf strips attached. Such garters and bracelets are worn at a dance by men.
+</p>
+<p>Other ornaments for wearing round the wrist or knee when dancing are made by the same
+method as the girdle called <i lang="gac">toto t’er-ŋau</i>, each having a tassel of strips of leaf.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Ornaments for the knee or wrist, such as those shown on the legs of the man in <a href="#plate12">Plate <span class="asc">XII</span></a>, are made by winding spirally a narrow strip of leaf and sewing it. A number of pendent
+strings of <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>toto t’er-bua</i>. Such a chaplet may have a tassel of narrow strips of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf at the back to which are attached shells that rattle as the wearer moves, or
+it may have pendent strings of <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> shells round the hinder half of its circumference.
+</p>
+<p>In making ornaments of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf such as the <i>toto t’er-bua</i> the upper surface of the strip of leaf is usually ornamented with a design <span class="pageNum" id="pb479">[<a href="#pb479">479</a>]</span>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 <a href="#plate10">Plate <span class="asc">X</span></a> is wearing two belts that have been ornamented with composition in this way.
+</p>
+<p>Woman’s leaf apron. In the South Andaman the women wear a sort of small apron consisting
+of a number of leaves of the <i lang="la">Mimusops littoralis</i> laid one over the other, the stalk ends of the leaves being tucked in between the
+layers of a belt of <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf. The leaves thus hang suspended so as to cover, somewhat inadequately, the pudenda.
+The natives say that the leaves of the <i lang="la">Mimusops</i> 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 <a href="#plate04">Plates <span class="asc">IV</span></a> and <a href="#plate15"><span class="asc">XV</span></a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">čainyo</i> in Aka-Jeru, and over the top of the leaves they wore a tassel of the fibre called
+<i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i>.
+</p>
+<p>Ornaments of netting and <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> 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 <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> skin worked in the net. Along the lower edge of the band of netting are attached
+a number of threads each having <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> shells strung on to it like beads. Ornaments of this kind are shown in <a href="#plate05">Plates <span class="asc">V</span></a> and <a href="#plate09"><span class="asc">IX</span></a>. They are worn by both men and women, but usually only on the occasion of a dance
+or some other ceremony.
+</p>
+<p>Ornaments of bone, etc. These are made with human bones, with the bones of such animals
+as pig, turtle, dugong, <i lang="la">Paradoxurus</i>, monitor lizard, or with pieces of wood or cane, or of coral, of suitable shape.
+A length of cord, of the fibre of the <i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i> or of the <i lang="la">Ficus laccifera</i>, is taken, and the bones are attached to it by thread. As a rule, strips of <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> skin are worked in, being laid on the bone and bound over with the thread.
+</p>
+<p>Ornaments of shell. Various kinds of shells are perforated and attached to string
+and are worn round the neck, the head, the knee, or <span class="pageNum" id="pb480">[<a href="#pb480">480</a>]</span>the wrist. A necklace of fresh-water shells (<i lang="gac">ino ko̱lo to̱i</i> in Aka-Jeru) is shown in <a href="#plate09">Plate <span class="asc">IX</span></a>. A necklace of small sea-shells is shown in <a href="#plate13">Plate <span class="asc">XIII</span></a>. The favourite shell of the Great Andaman tribes is the <i>Dentalium octogonum</i>. 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
+<a href="#plate04">Plates <span class="asc">IV</span></a> and <a href="#plate12"><span class="asc">XII</span></a>, and are tied round the wrist and knee and ankle as shown in <a href="#plate04">Plate <span class="asc">IV</span></a>.
+</p>
+<div class="figure floatRight fig40width" id="fig40"><img src="images/fig40.png" alt="Fig. 40. Necklaces of mangrove seed-tops, Great Andaman" width="203" height="486"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 40. Necklaces of mangrove seed-tops, Great Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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. <a href="#fig40">Fig. 40</a> shows the two kinds of mangrove seed commonly used in this way.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>. Some slings are covered entirely with netting, while others are ornamented with
+shells in various ways. <a href="#plate14">Plate <span class="asc">XIV</span></a> shows one with strings of <i>Dentalium</i> shell sewn on to it.
+</p>
+<p>Dancing ornaments of <i>Tetranthera</i> wood. A piece of <i>Tetranthera</i> 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 <i>Cyrena</i> 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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb481">[<a href="#pb481">481</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Personal Ornament; Little Andaman.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>Ornaments of bark. Strips of bark (? <i lang="la">Celtis cinnamonea</i>) are worn by the men round the waist and round the arm.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i lang="la">Dendrobium</i>, 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 <a href="#fig41">Fig. 41</a>, which represents diagrammatically the method adopted when there are two strips of
+<i lang="la">Dendrobium</i> skin. Such ornamental cord is made in pieces of considerable length. Often tassels
+of thread (of <i lang="la">Ficus hispida</i> 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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig41width" id="fig41"><img src="images/fig41.png" alt="Fig. 41. Diagram showing method of making ornamental cord, Little Andaman" width="351" height="98"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 41. Diagram showing method of making ornamental cord, Little Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i> in Aka-Jeru).
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf, which is used so much and in so many ways in the Great Andaman, <span class="pageNum" id="pb482">[<a href="#pb482">482</a>]</span>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 <i lang="la">Dentalium</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Dendrobium</i>. 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 “<span lang="de">mit schwarz und gelben Grasstreifchen umflocktener Bambus-reif.</span>”
+</p>
+<p>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 (<i lang="la">Dicrurus macrocercus</i>) 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb483">[<a href="#pb483">483</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Hair-dressing, Scarification, and Body-painting.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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 <a href="#plate15">Plate <span class="asc">XV</span></a>, 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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<i>gor</i>, from the crown to the nape of the neck<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e18393src" href="#xd33e18393" title="Go to note 31.">31</a>.” 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>The natives of the Great Andaman, as described earlier in this work, paint their bodies
+with a grey clay called <i>odu</i> or <i>og</i>, with a fine <span class="pageNum" id="pb484">[<a href="#pb484">484</a>]</span>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 <i>odu</i> or <i>og</i> 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.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Ornamentation.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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 <i>Pandanus</i> leaf are shown in <a href="#fig42">Fig. 42</a>. A very large number of designs are based on the zig-zag line. Examples are shown
+in <a href="#fig42">Fig. 42</a> <i>c</i>, <i>e</i>, and <i>g</i>. 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
+<i>dobo kwolage</i> (<i>dobo</i> = snake). In the North Andaman the design of zig-zag lines painted on the body with
+white clay is called <i lang="gac">or-čubi t’era-bat</i>, <i lang="gac">or-čubi</i> being the name of a species of large snake.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig42width" id="fig42"><img src="images/fig42.png" alt="Fig. 42. Designs incised or painted on belts of Pandanus leaf, Great Andaman" width="530" height="426"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 42. Designs incised or painted on belts of <i>Pandanus</i> leaf, Great Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb485">[<a href="#pb485">485</a>]</span></p>
+<p>A number of other common designs consist of parallel lines of dots or of short strokes,
+an example of which is shown in <a href="#fig42">Fig. 42</a> <i>f</i>.
+</p>
+<div class="figure floatRight fig43width" id="fig43"><img src="images/fig43.png" alt="Fig. 43. Designs on bamboo necklace from the North Andaman" width="252" height="336"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 43. Designs on bamboo necklace from the North Andaman</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig42">Fig. 42</a> <i>f</i>, (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 <a href="#fig43">Fig. 43</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Canoes.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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.
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e18479src" href="#xd33e18479" title="Go to note 32.">32</a>. They seem to have been invented by the natives of the South Andaman, and copied
+by those of the Middle and North Andaman.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb486">[<a href="#pb486">486</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>For the small canoe of the Great Andaman five or six species of soft-wooded trees
+are used, of which three are species of <i>Sterculia</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Hibiscus tiliaceus</i> is often used, but Mr Man says that in the South Andaman the float is always made
+from a species of <i>Sterculia</i> (<i>mai</i> in <span class="pageNum" id="pb487">[<a href="#pb487">487</a>]</span><i>Aka-Bea</i>)<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e18507src" href="#xd33e18507" title="Go to note 33.">33</a>. The ends of the float are only roughly shaped. The broader end of the float is forward.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure fig44width" id="fig44"><img src="images/fig44.png" alt="Fig. 44. Transverse section of canoe and outrigger. a, hull; b, boom; c, cane binding over boom; d, stick attaching boom to float; e, stays of cane; f, float" width="586" height="166"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 44. Transverse section of canoe and outrigger. <i>a</i>, hull; <i>b</i>, boom; <i>c</i>, cane binding over boom; <i>d</i>, stick attaching boom to float; <i>e</i>, stays of cane; <i>f</i>, float</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig44">Fig. 44</a>.) 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <a href="#fig45">Fig. 45</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb488">[<a href="#pb488">488</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure floatRight fig45width" id="fig45"><img src="images/fig45.png" alt="Fig. 45. Showing manner in which the boom (a) is connected with the float (b)." width="255" height="175"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 45. Showing manner in which the boom (<i>a</i>) is connected with the float (<i>b</i>).</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>Nautilus</i> 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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb489">[<a href="#pb489">489</a>]</span>along the gunwale. These designs soon wear off when the canoe is in use and are not
+renewed.
+</p>
+<div class="figure floatRight fig46width" id="fig46"><img src="images/fig46.png" alt="Fig. 46. Paddle" width="62" height="587"><p class="figureHead">Fig. 46. Paddle</p>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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 <i lang="la">Myristica longifolia</i> and planed with a boar’s tusk. They are often ornamented, when new, with painted
+designs in red and white.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb490">[<a href="#pb490">490</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb491">[<a href="#pb491">491</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>A canoe of the North Sentinel was seen by Mr Gilbert Rogers during a visit to that
+island in 1903<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e18590src" href="#xd33e18590" title="Go to note 34.">34</a>. 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 <i>Nautilus</i> 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
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb492">[<a href="#pb492">492</a>]</span>canoe was 18 inches in diameter at the smaller end and perhaps 30 inches wide at the
+larger end.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>Some of the Philippine Negritos seem to live on the coast and possibly have canoes,
+but nothing is known about these.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div2 last-child section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Conclusion.</span></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">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, <span class="pageNum" id="pb493">[<a href="#pb493">493</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb494">[<a href="#pb494">494</a>]</span>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.
+</p>
+<p>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.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb495">[<a href="#pb495">495</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16544">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16544src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> See <a href="#intro">Introduction</a>, p. <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16544src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16566">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16566src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> The information here given as to the Semang is derived from two works, Skeat and Blagden,
+<i>Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula</i>, vol. 1, quoted as <i>Skeat</i>, and Rudolf Martin, <i lang="de">Die Inlandstämme der Malayischen Halbinsel</i>, 1905, quoted as <i>Martin</i>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16566src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16580">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16580src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> The information about the Philippine Negritos is derived from Reed, <i>Negritos of Zambales</i>, Manila, 1904, quoted as <i>Reed</i>, and A.&nbsp;B. Meyer, <i lang="de">Die Philippinen, II, Die Negritos</i>, Dresden, 1893, quoted as <i>Meyer</i>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16580src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16641">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16641src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> See p. <a href="#pb34" class="pageref">34</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16641src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16655">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16655src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> See <i>Census Report</i>, 1901.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16655src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16665">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16665src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">6</a></span> Supplement to the <i>Andaman and Nicobar Gazette</i>, January 2, 1904.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16665src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16688">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16688src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">7</a></span> Skeat, p. 172.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16688src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16693">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16693src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">8</a></span> Skeat, p. 174.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16693src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16698">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16698src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">9</a></span> Skeat, p. 176, and plate. See also Annandale, <i><span lang="la">Fasciculi Malayensis</span>, Anthropology</i>, Part <span class="asc">I</span>, Plate <span class="asc">IV</span>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16698src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16716">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16716src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">10</a></span> Skeat, p. 174.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16716src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16721">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16721src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">11</a></span> Skeat, p. 177.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16721src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16726">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16726src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">12</a></span> Reed, Plate xxxviii.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16726src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16731">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16731src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">13</a></span> Meyer, Plate x.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16731src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16751">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16751src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">14</a></span> Skeat, p. 341.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16751src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16756">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16756src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">15</a></span> Skeat, p. 270.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16756src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16759">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16759src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">16</a></span> Skeat, p. 280.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16759src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16762">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16762src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">17</a></span> Skeat, p. 205.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16762src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16767">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16767src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">18</a></span> Skeat, p. 205.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16767src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16772">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16772src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">19</a></span> Reed, p. 44.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16772src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16775">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16775src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">20</a></span> Reed, p. 44.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16775src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16778">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16778src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">21</a></span> Reed, p. 47.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16778src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16781">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16781src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">22</a></span> Reed, p. 47.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16781src" title="Return to note 22 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e16784">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e16784src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">23</a></span> Reed, p. 48.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e16784src" title="Return to note 23 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e17086">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e17086src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">24</a></span> For information about the two specimens at Cambridge I am indebted to the kindness
+of Mr J.&nbsp;W. Layard.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e17086src" title="Return to note 24 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e17098">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e17098src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">25</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e17098src" title="Return to note 25 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e17103">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e17103src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">26</a></span> Meyer, pp. 13–17 and Plates <span class="asc">VI–VIII</span>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e17103src" title="Return to note 26 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e17230">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e17230src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">27</a></span> Meyer, Plates <span class="asc">VI</span> and <span class="asc">VIII</span>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e17230src" title="Return to note 27 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e17275">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e17275src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">28</a></span> Skeat, p. 274.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e17275src" title="Return to note 28 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e17356" lang="fr">
+<p class="footnote" lang="fr"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e17356src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">29</a></span> Lapicque, “Ethnographie des Iles Andaman,” <i>Bulletin de la Société d’Anthropologie de Paris</i>, 1894, p. 370.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e17356src" title="Return to note 29 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e17442">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e17442src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">30</a></span> Skeat, p. 383.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e17442src" title="Return to note 30 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e18393">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e18393src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">31</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 77.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e18393src" title="Return to note 31 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e18479">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e18479src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">32</a></span> Man, <i>Journ. Anthr. Inst.</i> <span class="asc">XII</span>, p. 367, note 4.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e18479src" title="Return to note 32 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e18507">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e18507src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">33</a></span> Man, <i>op. cit.</i> p. 397.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e18507src" title="Return to note 33 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e18590">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e18590src" title="Return to note 34 in text.">34</a></span> Supplement to the <i>Andaman and Nicobar Gazette</i>, January 2, 1904.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e18590src" title="Return to note 34 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="appb" class="div1 appendix"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e368">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">APPENDIX B</h2>
+<h2 class="main">THE SPELLING OF ANDAMANESE WORDS</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">In writing words of the Andaman languages I have used a slightly modified form of
+the “Anthropos” Alphabet of Father Schmidt<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e18626src" href="#xd33e18626" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>, which I consider to be by far the most scientific alphabet for writing down the
+languages of primitive peoples. The consonants are
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="phontable">
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top">k </td>
+<td class="cell-top">g </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="cell-top">y </td>
+<td class="cell-top">ŋ </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top"></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td>č </td>
+<td>ǰ </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td>ń </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">t </td>
+<td>d </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td>n </td>
+<td>l </td>
+<td class="cell-right">r</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom">p </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom">b </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom">w </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom">m </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom"></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>The letter ŋ is used for the nasalised guttural stop (<i>ng</i> in English) which should always be written with one letter, since it is a single
+consonant, quite distinct from the double consonant <i>ng</i> of “ungodly.” The letter ń stands for a palatalised <i>n</i>, something like the sound in French “<span lang="fr">agneau</span>.” 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 <i>t</i>, as heard in “Tuesday,” whereas the č is a fricative, often regarded as a compound
+of <i>t</i> and <i>sh</i>. 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.
+</p>
+<p>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 <span class="pageNum" id="pb496">[<a href="#pb496">496</a>]</span>fricative). Many of the words of the Northern languages that I have written with a
+p are often pronounced with a p̌ sound.
+</p>
+<p>The vowels are
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table class="phontable">
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top">i </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="cell-top"> </td>
+<td class="cell-top">u </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top"></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"> </td>
+<td>e </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td>o </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td class="cell-right">ö</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td>e̱ </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td>o̱ </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left"> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td>a̤ </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td>a̱̱ </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td> </td>
+<td class="cell-right"></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom">a </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-bottom"> </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom"></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>These may be pronounced as follows:
+</p>
+<div class="table">
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-top">i, </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-top">intermediate between the vowels of “it” and “eat.”</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">e, </td>
+<td class="cell-right">as the vowel in “say.”</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">e̱, </td>
+<td class="cell-right">as the <i>e</i> in “error” or the <i>a</i> in “Mary.”</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">a̤, </td>
+<td class="cell-right">as the <i>a</i> in “man.”</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">a, </td>
+<td class="cell-right">as the <i>a</i> in French “pas.”</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">a̱̱, </td>
+<td class="cell-right">as the <i>a</i> in “path.”</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">o̱, </td>
+<td class="cell-right">as the vowel in “not” or in “nought.”</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">o, </td>
+<td class="cell-right">as in “go.”</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left">u, </td>
+<td class="cell-right">as the vowel in “fool.”</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="cell-left cell-bottom">ö, </td>
+<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">nearly as the German ö.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div><p>
+</p>
+<p>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<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e18897src" href="#xd33e18897" title="Go to note 2.">2</a>.
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>roa</i>, canoe, <i>baraba</i>, a mat, <i>ra</i>, 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>i-</i>, <i>e-</i>, <i>a-</i>, <i>o-</i>, and <i>u-</i>. In the languages of the Great Andaman Division they are such as <i>ot-</i>, <i>aka-</i>, <i>era-</i>, <i>e-</i>, <i>u-</i>, <i>ab-</i>, etc. Such words are used to denote dependent objects such as the parts, qualities
+or actions of a <span class="pageNum" id="pb497">[<a href="#pb497">497</a>]</span>thing. Thus while a pig (<i>ra</i>) or a canoe (<i>roa</i>) 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 (<i lang="gac">ot-čo</i>) consisting of a stem (<i lang="gac">-čo</i>) and a prefix (<i>ot-</i>). So also the quality of bigness which may belong to a pig or a canoe is denoted
+by a word (<i>er-kuro</i>) consisting of a stem (<i>-kuro</i>) and a prefix (<i>er-</i>).
+</p>
+<p>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.
+</p>
+<p>In compound words or phrases in which the second word consists of prefix and stem
+it is common to insert before the prefix a <i>t</i> or an <i>l</i>. Thus <i>ra t’er-kuro</i> is “a big pig” and <i lang="gac">ra t’ot-čo</i> is “a pig’s head.” In writing such words I have placed an inverted comma between
+the <i>t</i> or <i>l</i> and the prefix. This infix <i>t</i> must not be confused with the first personal pronoun in the North Andaman, <i>Tio</i>, contracted to <i>T’</i> before a prefix.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb499">[<a href="#pb499">499</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e18626">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e18626src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> Published in Vol. ii of the journal <i>Anthropos</i>, 1907.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e18626src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e18897">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e18897src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> 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.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e18897src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ix" class="div1 index"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e375">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="main">INDEX</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Address, terms of, <a href="#pb44" class="pageref">44</a>, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a>;
+<br>used in legends, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>
+</p>
+<p>Adoption of children, <a href="#pb77" class="pageref">77</a>;
+<br>effects of, on regulation of marriage, <a href="#pb72" class="pageref">72</a>
+</p>
+<p>Adultery, <a href="#pb50" class="pageref">50</a>
+</p>
+<p>Adze, <a href="#pb450" class="pageref">450</a>
+</p>
+<p>Age, distinctions of, <a href="#pb80" class="pageref">80</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Aka-</i>, prefix referring to mouth and speech, <a href="#pb23" class="pageref">23</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Aka-op</i>, term applied to boy or girl during adolescence, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>;
+<br>foods avoided by, <a href="#pb95" class="pageref">95</a>;
+<br>interpretation of avoidances imposed on, <a href="#pb279" class="pageref">279</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Aka-yat</i><span id="xd33e19041">,</span> relationship, <a href="#pb81" class="pageref">81</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Alebe</i>, name given to girl at first stage of initiation, <a href="#pb93" class="pageref">93</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Alpinia</i>, leaves used in honey-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb105" class="pageref">105</a>;
+<br>used as remedy for sickness, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Anadendron</i>, magical properties of, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a><span id="xd33e19069">,</span> <a href="#pb180" class="pageref">180</a>;
+<br>protective value of, <a href="#pb261" class="pageref">261</a>;
+<br>dangerous to use, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>;
+<br>uses of fibre, <a href="#pb453" class="pageref">453</a>;
+<br>preparation of fibre, <a href="#pb453" class="pageref">453</a>
+</p>
+<p>Ancestors, legends of the, <a href="#pb190" class="pageref">190</a>;
+<br>names applied to the, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>, <a href="#pb190" class="pageref">190</a>;
+<br>with animal names, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>;
+<br>legends of the dispersion of the, <a href="#pb212" class="pageref">212</a>
+</p>
+<p>Andaman Islands, description of, <a href="#pb1" class="pageref">1</a>;
+<br>fauna, <a href="#pb3" class="pageref">3</a>;
+<br>climate, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>;
+<br>early accounts of, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>;
+<br>area of, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a>
+</p>
+<p>Andamanese home, <a href="#pb19" class="pageref">19</a>
+</p>
+<p>Animal bones, protective power of, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>
+</p>
+<p>Animals, legendary, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a>;
+<br>in the legends, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>;
+<br>personification of, <a href="#pb388" class="pageref">388</a>;
+<br>legends of the origin of, <a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a> sqq., <a href="#pb341" class="pageref">341</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Ant’s nest (<i lang="gac">Ko̱t</i>), human race descended from, <a href="#pb192" class="pageref">192</a>
+</p>
+<p>Arabian travellers, description of Andamans by, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Areca</i> wood, skewer of, <a href="#pb449" class="pageref">449</a>;
+<br>arrows of, <a href="#pb439" class="pageref">439</a>
+</p>
+<p>Arrows, <a href="#pb435" class="pageref">435</a> sqq<span id="xd33e19212">.</span>;
+<br>protective power attributed to, <a href="#pb259" class="pageref">259</a>;
+<br>used to stop a storm, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Artocarpus</i> fruit, <a href="#pb40" class="pageref">40</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Ar-yoto</i>, coast-dwellers, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>
+</p>
+<p>Authority of chiefs, <a href="#pb47" class="pageref">47</a>
+</p>
+<p>Bachelors’ hut, <a href="#pb34" class="pageref">34</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Bain</i> (civet-cat), as the first woman, <a href="#pb196" class="pageref">196</a>
+</p>
+<p>Bamboo, necklaces of, <a href="#pb259" class="pageref">259</a>, <a href="#pb480" class="pageref">480</a>;
+<br>vessels of, <a href="#pb475" class="pageref">475</a>;
+<br>used for fish arrows, <a href="#pb435" class="pageref">435</a>
+</p>
+<p>Bark sling for carrying children, <a href="#pb480" class="pageref">480</a>;
+<br>worn by man who desires children, <a href="#pb90" class="pageref">90</a>
+</p>
+<p>Basket-work, <a href="#pb458" class="pageref">458</a> sqq.;
+<br>Little Andaman, <a href="#pb461" class="pageref">461</a>;
+<br>South Andaman, <a href="#pb463" class="pageref">463</a>;
+<br>North Andaman, <a href="#pb465" class="pageref">465</a>;
+<br>Semang, <a href="#pb470" class="pageref">470</a>;
+<br>Philippine Negritos, <a href="#pb471" class="pageref">471</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Be</i>, pearl shell, associated with <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>
+</p>
+<p>Bees’-wax, burning of, angers <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>, <a href="#pb357" class="pageref">357</a>;
+<br>magical properties of, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>;
+<br>protective power of, <a href="#pb263" class="pageref">263</a>
+</p>
+<p>Belt, men’s, <a href="#pb125" class="pageref">125</a>, <a href="#pb476" class="pageref">476</a>;
+<br>women’s, <a href="#pb477" class="pageref">477</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Beyan</i> (civet-cat), as the first woman, <a href="#pb193" class="pageref">193</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Bido Teč Lau</i>, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>, <a href="#pb165" class="pageref">165</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Bilik</i>, generic name for winds, <a href="#pb149" class="pageref">149</a>;
+<br>name of a class of spirits, <a href="#pb169" class="pageref">169</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Bilika</i>, <i>Aka-Kede</i> form of <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Biliku</i>, associated with the N.E. wind, <a href="#pb147" class="pageref">147</a>, <a href="#pb353" class="pageref">353</a>;
+<br>associated with the season of the N.E. monsoon, <a href="#pb149" class="pageref">149</a>;
+<br>statements concerning her husband and children, <a href="#pb150" class="pageref">150</a>;
+<br>meaning of the name, <a href="#pb151" class="pageref">151</a>;
+<br>actions that anger, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>;
+<br>punishes offences with storms, <a href="#pb156" class="pageref">156</a>;
+<br>legends about, <a href="#pb197" class="pageref">197</a>;
+<br>represented in pantomimic dance, <a href="#pb165" class="pageref">165</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>, beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb147" class="pageref">147</a> sqq.;
+<br>legends of, <a href="#pb197" class="pageref">197</a> sqq.;
+<br>interpretation of beliefs about, <a href="#pb351" class="pageref">351</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Birth of children, customs relating to, <a href="#pb89" class="pageref">89</a>
+</p>
+<p>Birth-rate, decrease of, <a href="#pb18" class="pageref">18</a>
+</p>
+<p>Boar’s tusk, used as a spokeshave, <a href="#pb448" class="pageref">448</a>
+</p>
+<p>Bone arrow points, <a href="#pb448" class="pageref">448</a>
+</p>
+<p>Bones, animal, magical properties of, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>
+</p>
+<p>Bones of the dead, recovered from the grave, <a href="#pb112" class="pageref">112</a>;
+<br>worn to prevent sickness, <a href="#pb126" class="pageref">126</a>, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>;
+<br>interpretation of customs relating to, <a href="#pb292" class="pageref">292</a>
+</p>
+<p>Bow, <a href="#pb419" class="pageref">419</a> sqq.;
+<br>Little Andaman, <a href="#pb419" class="pageref">419</a>;
+<br>North Sentinel Island, <a href="#pb422" class="pageref">422</a>;
+<br>Jarawa, <a href="#pb423" class="pageref">423</a>;
+<br>South Andaman, <a href="#pb423" class="pageref">423</a>;
+<br>North Andaman, <a href="#pb427" class="pageref">427</a>;
+<br>comparison of different forms, <a href="#pb432" class="pageref">432</a>;
+<br>Semang, <a href="#pb434" class="pageref">434</a>;
+<br>Philippine Negritos, <a href="#pb435" class="pageref">435</a>;
+<br>an element of primitive Negrito culture, <a href="#pb492" class="pageref">492</a>
+</p>
+<p>Buckets, <a href="#pb474" class="pageref">474</a>
+</p>
+<p>Burial customs, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a> sqq.;
+<br>weeping over corpse, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>;
+<br>preparation of corpse, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a>;
+<br>interment, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a>;
+<br>tree-burial, <a href="#pb108" class="pageref">108</a>;
+<br>use of <i lang="gac">ko̱ro</i> fibre, <a href="#pb108" class="pageref">108</a>;
+<br>burial of children, <a href="#pb109" class="pageref">109</a>;
+<br>of strangers, <a href="#pb109" class="pageref">109</a>;
+<br>recovery of bones, <a href="#pb112" class="pageref">112</a>;
+<br>interpretation of, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a> sqq.
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb500">[<a href="#pb500">500</a>]</span></p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čainyo</i> leaf, used in girl’s initiation ceremony, <a href="#pb93" class="pageref">93</a>;
+<br>formerly worn by women of North Andaman, <a href="#pb93" class="pageref">93</a> note
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čaitan</i>, the abode of spirits of the dead, <a href="#pb171" class="pageref">171</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Calamus</i>, uses of, <a href="#pb453" class="pageref">453</a>;
+<br>associated with spirits, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>, <a href="#pb165" class="pageref">165</a>, <a href="#pb292" class="pageref">292</a>
+</p>
+<p>Camping sites, <a href="#pb29" class="pageref">29</a>
+</p>
+<p>Camps, kinds of, <a href="#pb31" class="pageref">31</a>;
+<br>hunting, <a href="#pb33" class="pageref">33</a>, <a href="#pb409" class="pageref">409</a>
+</p>
+<p>Canoes, <a href="#pb485" class="pageref">485</a> sqq.;
+<br>Little Andaman, <a href="#pb491" class="pageref">491</a>;
+<br>North Sentinel Island, <a href="#pb492" class="pageref">492</a>;
+<br>ownership of, <a href="#pb42" class="pageref">42</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čara</i>, equivalent of <i>Tomo</i>, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>;
+<br>legends of, <a href="#pb193" class="pageref">193</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Caryota</i>, associated with spirits of the dead, <a href="#pb147" class="pageref">147</a>, <a href="#pb171" class="pageref">171</a>, <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a>;
+<br>belongs to Biliku, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>, <a href="#pb358" class="pageref">358</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čatlo</i>, stars, children of sun and moon, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čatlo</i>, beetle, associated with <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb156" class="pageref">156</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čauga</i>, spirits of the dead, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>, <a href="#pb170" class="pageref">170</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čauga ta</i>, bones of the dead, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čauga tabaŋa</i>, the ancestors, <a href="#pb190" class="pageref">190</a>, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>
+</p>
+<p>Caves, use of, <a href="#pb33" class="pageref">33</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Celtis cinnamonea</i>, use of fibre of, <a href="#pb452" class="pageref">452</a>
+</p>
+<p>Ceremonial customs, definition of, <a href="#pb89" class="pageref">89</a>;
+<br>nature of, <a href="#pb233" class="pageref">233</a>, <a href="#pb325" class="pageref">325</a>
+</p>
+<p>Chiefs, <a href="#pb47" class="pageref">47</a>
+</p>
+<p>Child, sex of unborn, <a href="#pb90" class="pageref">90</a>;
+<br>reincarnation of dead, <a href="#pb90" class="pageref">90</a>
+</p>
+<p>Childbirth, <a href="#pb89" class="pageref">89</a>
+</p>
+<p>Children, treatment of, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a>;
+<br>and parents, <a href="#pb76" class="pageref">76</a>;
+<br>naming of, <a href="#pb89" class="pageref">89</a>
+</p>
+<p>Chinese records of Andamans, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>
+</p>
+<p>Cicada, associated with <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb150" class="pageref">150</a>, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>, <a href="#pb154" class="pageref">154</a>, <a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>, <a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a>, <a href="#pb208" class="pageref">208</a>, <a href="#pb359" class="pageref">359</a>;
+<br>associated with day and night, <a href="#pb155" class="pageref">155</a>, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a>, <a href="#pb330" class="pageref">330</a>;
+<br>may not be killed, <a href="#pb155" class="pageref">155</a>;
+<br>may not be disturbed by noise at dawn or sunset, <a href="#pb154" class="pageref">154</a>;
+<br>ceremony of killing the, <a href="#pb155" class="pageref">155</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čirikli</i>, the moon, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>
+</p>
+<p>Civet-cat, beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>;
+<br>as wife of first ancestor, <a href="#pb193" class="pageref">193</a>, <a href="#pb196" class="pageref">196</a>;
+<br>position in legends explained, <a href="#pb348" class="pageref">348</a>
+</p>
+<p>Clan organisation, absence of, in Andamans, <a href="#pb23" class="pageref">23</a>
+</p>
+<p>Classificatory system of relationship, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a>
+</p>
+<p>Clay, used for making pots, <a href="#pb473" class="pageref">473</a>;
+<br>men and women made of, by <i lang="gac">J̌utpu</i>, <a href="#pb192" class="pageref">192</a>
+</p>
+<p>Clay (<i>odu</i>), newly born child painted with, <a href="#pb90" class="pageref">90</a>;
+<br>used in initiation ceremonies, <a href="#pb99" class="pageref">99</a>, <a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a>;
+<br>used in mourning, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>;
+<br>summary of uses of, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a>;
+<br>used after eating food, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>;
+<br>interpretation of uses of, <a href="#pb275" class="pageref">275</a>, <a href="#pb289" class="pageref">289</a>, <a href="#pb312" class="pageref">312</a>
+</p>
+<p>Clay, white (<i lang="gac">to̱l-odu</i>), use of, after initiation ceremonies, <a href="#pb99" class="pageref">99</a>, <a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a>;
+<br>used for decorating corpse, <a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a>;
+<br>may not be used by mourners, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>, <a href="#pb112" class="pageref">112</a>;
+<br>used for ornamenting bones of the dead, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>;
+<br>summary of uses of, <a href="#pb124" class="pageref">124</a>;
+<br>use of, in purification of homicide, <a href="#pb133" class="pageref">133</a>;
+<br>interpretation of uses of, <a href="#pb254" class="pageref">254</a>, <a href="#pb256" class="pageref">256</a>, <a href="#pb315" class="pageref">315</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Climate of Andamans, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>
+</p>
+<p>Coast-dwellers and forest-dwellers, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čoinyop</i>, legend of, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Čol</i>, <a href="#pb161" class="pageref">161</a>;
+<br>legend of origin of, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>
+</p>
+<p>Colebrooke, <a href="#pb445" class="pageref">445</a>, <a href="#pb448" class="pageref">448</a>
+</p>
+<p>Communal huts, <a href="#pb31" class="pageref">31</a>, <a href="#pb35" class="pageref">35</a>, <a href="#pb413" class="pageref">413</a>
+</p>
+<p>Convict Settlement, see Penal Settlement
+</p>
+<p>Cramp, caused by civet-cat, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>
+</p>
+<p>Creeks and islands, legends of origin of, <a href="#pb217" class="pageref">217</a>
+</p>
+<p>Crime, punishment of, <a href="#pb48" class="pageref">48</a>
+</p>
+<p>Cyclones, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a>, <a href="#pb344" class="pageref">344</a>, <a href="#pb364" class="pageref">364</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Cyrena</i> shell, uses of, <a href="#pb447" class="pageref">447</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Da</i>, term of address, <a href="#pb44" class="pageref">44</a>
+</p>
+<p>Dance, <a href="#pb128" class="pageref">128</a> sqq.;
+<br>rhythm of, <a href="#pb130" class="pageref">130</a>;
+<br>of women, <a href="#pb131" class="pageref">131</a>;
+<br>before a fight, <a href="#pb132" class="pageref">132</a>, <a href="#pb252" class="pageref">252</a>;
+<br>at turtle-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a>, <a href="#pb282" class="pageref">282</a>;
+<br>at end of mourning, <a href="#pb114" class="pageref">114</a>;
+<br>pantomimic, representing supernatural beings, <a href="#pb164" class="pageref">164</a>;
+<br>legend of origin of, <a href="#pb215" class="pageref">215</a>, <a href="#pb334" class="pageref">334</a>;
+<br>social function of, <a href="#pb246" class="pageref">246</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Dance meetings, <a href="#pb40" class="pageref">40</a>, <a href="#pb253" class="pageref">253</a>
+</p>
+<p>Day, personified, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>;
+<br>made by <i lang="gac">Tauto̱bitatmo̱</i>, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>;
+<br>made by <i lang="gac">Čara</i>, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>
+</p>
+<p>Day and night, legend of origin of, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a>;
+<br>interpreted, <a href="#pb330" class="pageref">330</a>
+</p>
+<p>Death, legend of origin of, <a href="#pb236" class="pageref">236</a>, <a href="#pb299" class="pageref">299</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Dendrobium</i>, use of skin of, for ornament, <a href="#pb454" class="pageref">454</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Dentalium</i> shell, ornaments of, <a href="#pb126" class="pageref">126</a>, <a href="#pb479" class="pageref">479</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Deria</i>, see <i>Tarai</i>
+</p>
+<p><i>Diu</i>, the sun, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>
+</p>
+<p>Division of labour, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a>
+</p>
+<p>Dogs, <a href="#pb36" class="pageref">36</a>, <a href="#pb417" class="pageref">417</a>
+</p>
+<p>Domestic implements and utensils, <a href="#pb472" class="pageref">472</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Dove, as first woman, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>
+</p>
+<p>Dreams, beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb167" class="pageref">167</a>, <a href="#pb304" class="pageref">304</a>;
+<br>communication with spirits in, <a href="#pb177" class="pageref">177</a>;
+<br>power of medicine-man exercised in, <a href="#pb178" class="pageref">178</a>;
+<br>provide means of representing the spirit world, <a href="#pb303" class="pageref">303</a>
+</p>
+<p>Dugong, legend of origin of, <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Duku</i> (monitor lizard), as first ancestor, <a href="#pb196" class="pageref">196</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Dula</i>, the moon, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>
+</p>
+<p>Eagle (<i lang="gac">Ko̱lo</i>), legend of, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>
+</p>
+<p>Earthquakes, made by the spirits, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>
+</p>
+<p>Education, <a href="#pb276" class="pageref">276</a>
+</p>
+<p>Elders, respect for, <a href="#pb44" class="pageref">44</a>;
+<br>influence of, <a href="#pb50" class="pageref">50</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Ele</i>, personification of lightning, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>;
+<br>represented in pantomimic dance, <a href="#pb166" class="pageref">166</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Entada scandens</i>, belongs to <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb501">[<a href="#pb501">501</a>]</span></p>
+<p><i lang="gac">E̱ra-puli</i>, patterns painted on body, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a>;
+<br>explanation of, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>, <a href="#pb312" class="pageref">312</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">E̱rem-čauga</i>, spirits of the jungle, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>;
+<br>Mr Man’s account of, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">E̱rem-taga</i>, forest-dwellers, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>
+</p>
+<p>Family, <a href="#pb23" class="pageref">23</a>
+</p>
+<p>Fibres used for making rope and string, <a href="#pb450" class="pageref">450</a> sqq.;
+<br>protective powers attributed to, <a href="#pb259" class="pageref">259</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Ficus laccifera</i>, home of souls of unborn children, <a href="#pb91" class="pageref">91</a>;
+<br>storm will come if tree is damaged, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>;
+<br>leaves used for stopping storm, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>;
+<br>abode of spirits of dead infants, <a href="#pb174" class="pageref">174</a>;
+<br>magical properties of, <a href="#pb181" class="pageref">181</a>;
+<br>protective value of, <a href="#pb262" class="pageref">262</a>;
+<br>use of fibre of, <a href="#pb452" class="pageref">452</a>
+</p>
+<p>Fighting, <a href="#pb85" class="pageref">85</a>
+</p>
+<p>Fire, absence of method of producing, <a href="#pb472" class="pageref">472</a>;
+<br>magical properties of, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>;
+<br>legends of origin of, <a href="#pb201" class="pageref">201</a>;
+<br>protective value of, <a href="#pb258" class="pageref">258</a>;
+<br>used in initiation ceremonies, <a href="#pb95" class="pageref">95</a>, <a href="#pb98" class="pageref">98</a>, <a href="#pb280" class="pageref">280</a>;
+<br>interpretation of legends of origin of, <a href="#pb341" class="pageref">341</a>;
+<br>social value of, expressed in legends of flood, <a href="#pb345" class="pageref">345</a>;
+<br>relation to <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb367" class="pageref">367</a>
+</p>
+<p>Fishing, <a href="#pb417" class="pageref">417</a>
+</p>
+<p>Flood, legends of, <a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a>;
+<br>Mr Man’s version of, <a href="#pb209" class="pageref">209</a>;
+<br>interpretation of legends of, <a href="#pb344" class="pageref">344</a>
+</p>
+<p>Flower-names of girls, <a href="#pb119" class="pageref">119</a>;
+<br>interpretation of, <a href="#pb311" class="pageref">311</a>
+</p>
+<p>Flying-fox, remedy for rheumatism, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>
+</p>
+<p>Food, distribution of, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a>;
+<br>avoidance of certain, during pregnancy, <a href="#pb89" class="pageref">89</a>;
+<br>avoidance of certain, at menstrual periods, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>;
+<br>avoidance of certain, during adolescence, <a href="#pb95" class="pageref">95</a>;
+<br>avoidance of certain, during mourning, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>;
+<br>customs connected with, <a href="#pb114" class="pageref">114</a> sqq., <a href="#pb272" class="pageref">272</a>;
+<br>patterns painted on body after eating, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>, <a href="#pb312" class="pageref">312</a>;
+<br>belief in dangers of, <a href="#pb270" class="pageref">270</a>;
+<br>social value of, <a href="#pb270" class="pageref">270</a>;
+<br>used in treatment of sickness, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>
+</p>
+<p>Frederike, Master Caesar, description of Andamans, <a href="#pb8" class="pageref">8</a>
+</p>
+<p>Frog, legends of, <a href="#pb221" class="pageref">221</a>;
+<br>eaten by woman who desires children, <a href="#pb90" class="pageref">90</a>
+</p>
+<p>Funeral customs, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a> sqq.;
+<br>interpretation of, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Gnetum edule</i>, use of fibre of, <a href="#pb452" class="pageref">452</a>;
+<br>magical properties of, <a href="#pb181" class="pageref">181</a>;
+<br>protective power of, <a href="#pb261" class="pageref">261</a>
+</p>
+<p>Government, absence of, <a href="#pb44" class="pageref">44</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Grewia laevigata</i>, use of fibre of, <a href="#pb452" class="pageref">452</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Gumul</i>, see <i>Kimil</i>
+</p>
+<p>Habitations, <a href="#pb31" class="pageref">31</a> sqq., <a href="#pb409" class="pageref">409</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Hair-dressing, <a href="#pb483" class="pageref">483</a>
+</p>
+<p>Harpoon, <a href="#pb441" class="pageref">441</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Hibiscus tiliaceus</i>, use of fibre for rope, <a href="#pb451" class="pageref">451</a>;
+<br>method of preparation of fibre, <a href="#pb451" class="pageref">451</a>;
+<br>leaves used in turtle-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb98" class="pageref">98</a>, <a href="#pb99" class="pageref">99</a>, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a>;
+<br>wood used for cooking turtle, <a href="#pb116" class="pageref">116</a>;
+<br>protective power of, explained, <a href="#pb259" class="pageref">259</a>
+</p>
+<p>Hiccough, said to be caused by lizard, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>
+</p>
+<p>Homicide, customs relating to, <a href="#pb133" class="pageref">133</a>
+</p>
+<p>Honey, <a href="#pb39" class="pageref">39</a>;
+<br>legend of discovery of, <a href="#pb221" class="pageref">221</a>;
+<br>associated with the snake <i lang="gac">o̱r-čubi</i>, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>
+</p>
+<p>Honey-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb105" class="pageref">105</a>
+</p>
+<p>Hunting, <a href="#pb36" class="pageref">36</a>, <a href="#pb417" class="pageref">417</a>
+</p>
+<p>Huts, <a href="#pb32" class="pageref">32</a> sqq., <a href="#pb409" class="pageref">409</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p><i>In</i>, term of address, <a href="#pb44" class="pageref">44</a>
+</p>
+<p>India, natives of, called <i>Lau</i>, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>
+</p>
+<p>Initiation ceremonies, <a href="#pb91" class="pageref">91</a> sqq.;
+<br>interpretation of, <a href="#pb276" class="pageref">276</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Initiation into the world of the dead, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>, <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a>
+</p>
+<p>Interpretation of customs, methods of, <a href="#pb329" class="pageref">329</a>
+</p>
+<p>Iron, use of, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>, <a href="#pb444" class="pageref">444</a>, <a href="#pb449" class="pageref">449</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</i>, <a href="#pb10" class="pageref">10</a>, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>, <a href="#pb86" class="pageref">86</a>;
+<br>their relation to the <i>Önge</i>, <a href="#pb13" class="pageref">13</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">J̌ereg</i>, the abode of the dead, <a href="#pb171" class="pageref">171</a>, <a href="#pb173" class="pageref">173</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i>, the abode of the dead, <a href="#pb170" class="pageref">170</a>, <a href="#pb171" class="pageref">171</a>, <a href="#pb173" class="pageref">173</a>, <a href="#pb174" class="pageref">174</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">J̌irmu</i>, a legendary animal, <a href="#pb226" class="pageref">226</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">J̌urua</i>, spirits of the sea, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">J̌uruwin</i>, Mr Man’s account of, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">J̌utpu</i>, the first being, legend of, <a href="#pb192" class="pageref">192</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Kara-duku</i>, said to be the crocodile, <a href="#pb194" class="pageref">194</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Kimil</i>, term applied to initiation ceremonies, <a href="#pb101" class="pageref">101</a>;
+<br>meaning of the word, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a>, <a href="#pb307" class="pageref">307</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Kimil</i> season, <a href="#pb39" class="pageref">39</a>, <a href="#pb153" class="pageref">153</a>;
+<br>association with <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb359" class="pageref">359</a>
+</p>
+<p>Knives, <a href="#pb449" class="pageref">449</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ko̱lo</i>, sea-eagle, legend of, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ko̱lotat</i> (ebony), as the first woman, <a href="#pb194" class="pageref">194</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ko̱ro</i>, fibre, <a href="#pb453" class="pageref">453</a>;
+<br>used in burial ceremonies, <a href="#pb108" class="pageref">108</a>;
+<br>used in peace-making ceremony, <a href="#pb134" class="pageref">134</a>;
+<br>formerly worn by women, <a href="#pb479" class="pageref">479</a>;
+<br>explanation of uses of, <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Korude</i>, thunder, personified, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ko̱t</i> (ant’s nest), as the first woman, <a href="#pb192" class="pageref">192</a>
+</p>
+<p>Land, ownership of, <a href="#pb29" class="pageref">29</a>
+</p>
+<p>Languages of the Andaman Islands, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>
+</p>
+<p>Lapicque, M. L., <a href="#pb31" class="pageref">31</a>, <a href="#pb446" class="pageref">446</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Lau</i>, the spirits, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>;
+<br>term applied to natives of India, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Lau to̱i</i>, bones of the dead, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>
+</p>
+<p>Laziness, condemned, <a href="#pb50" class="pageref">50</a>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb502">[<a href="#pb502">502</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Legends, <a href="#pb186" class="pageref">186</a> sqq.;
+<br>interpretation of, <a href="#pb330" class="pageref">330</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Lightning, personified, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>;
+<br>made by <i>Ele</i>, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>;
+<br>made by <i>Tarai</i> and <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>;
+<br>connection with <i>Biliku</i> discussed, <a href="#pb367" class="pageref">367</a>
+</p>
+<p>Little Andaman, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>;
+<br>former connection with Great Andaman, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>;
+<br>huts, <a href="#pb413" class="pageref">413</a>;
+<br>bow, <a href="#pb419" class="pageref">419</a>;
+<br>arrows, <a href="#pb439" class="pageref">439</a>;
+<br>basket-work, <a href="#pb461" class="pageref">461</a>;
+<br>personal ornament, <a href="#pb483" class="pageref">483</a>
+</p>
+<p>Local groups, <a href="#pb23" class="pageref">23</a>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>;
+<br>size of, <a href="#pb27" class="pageref">27</a>;
+<br>names of, <a href="#pb28" class="pageref">28</a>;
+<br>membership of, <a href="#pb28" class="pageref">28</a>;
+<br>meetings of, <a href="#pb40" class="pageref">40</a>;
+<br>relations between, <a href="#pb82" class="pageref">82</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Lo̱ito</i>, edible root associated with <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Maia</i>, term of address, <a href="#pb44" class="pageref">44</a>;
+<br>used in legends, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>
+</p>
+<p>Man, E. H., <a href="#pb20" class="pageref">20</a>
+</p>
+<p>Marco Polo, description of Andamans, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>
+</p>
+<p>Marriage, <a href="#pb70" class="pageref">70</a> sqq.;
+<br>regulation of, <a href="#pb71" class="pageref">71</a>;
+<br>of cousins, <a href="#pb71" class="pageref">71</a>;
+<br>ceremony of, <a href="#pb73" class="pageref">73</a>;
+<br>ceremony, interpretation of, <a href="#pb255" class="pageref">255</a>
+</p>
+<p>Mats, <a href="#pb456" class="pageref">456</a>
+</p>
+<p>Medicine-men, <a href="#pb48" class="pageref">48</a>, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a>, <a href="#pb175" class="pageref">175</a> sqq.;
+<br>powers of, how acquired, <a href="#pb176" class="pageref">176</a>;
+<br>cure sickness, <a href="#pb178" class="pageref">178</a>;
+<br>control the weather, <a href="#pb178" class="pageref">178</a>;
+<br>skilled in legendary lore, <a href="#pb186" class="pageref">186</a>;
+<br>beliefs concerning, discussed, <a href="#pb301" class="pageref">301</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Melochia velutina</i>, <a href="#pb451" class="pageref">451</a>
+</p>
+<p>Menstruation, ideas about, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>;
+<br>avoidances during, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>;
+<br>ceremony at first occurrence of, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Mimi</i>, term of address, <a href="#pb44" class="pageref">44</a>;
+<br>used in legends, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Mimusops</i> leaves, worn by women, <a href="#pb127" class="pageref">127</a>;
+<br>used to frighten <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Mincopie</i>, as name of Andaman Islanders, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>
+</p>
+<p>Mode of life, changes in, <a href="#pb19" class="pageref">19</a>
+</p>
+<p>Monitor lizard, as the first ancestor, <a href="#pb193" class="pageref">193</a>, <a href="#pb196" class="pageref">196</a>, <a href="#pb211" class="pageref">211</a>, <a href="#pb213" class="pageref">213</a>, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a>;
+<br>identified with <i>Biliku</i> (<i>Öluga</i>) in Little Andaman, <a href="#pb151" class="pageref">151</a>;
+<br>inventor of scarification, <a href="#pb219" class="pageref">219</a>;
+<br>position in the legends explained, <a href="#pb388" class="pageref">388</a>
+</p>
+<p>Moon, personified, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>;
+<br>beliefs relating to, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>;
+<br>can turn into a pig, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>;
+<br>anger of, how caused, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>;
+<br>waxing and waning of, <a href="#pb143" class="pageref">143</a>;
+<br>eclipse of, <a href="#pb143" class="pageref">143</a>;
+<br>as wife of <i>Tomo</i>, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>;
+<br>interpretation of beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb340" class="pageref">340</a>
+</p>
+<p>Morgan, Lewis, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Mo̱rua</i>, spirits of the sky, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>;
+<br>angry if pork is roasted, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>
+</p>
+<p>Mourners, names avoided, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>;
+<br>terms of address used for, <a href="#pb112" class="pageref">112</a>;
+<br>cut off from normal social life, <a href="#pb288" class="pageref">288</a>
+</p>
+<p>Mourning, customs of, <a href="#pb166" class="pageref">166</a> sqq.;
+<br>duration of, <a href="#pb110" class="pageref">110</a>;
+<br>ceremony at end of, <a href="#pb114" class="pageref">114</a>;
+<br>interpretation of customs of, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Murder, <a href="#pb48" class="pageref">48</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Myristica</i>, leaves used in initiation ceremonies, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>, <a href="#pb98" class="pageref">98</a>;
+<br>explanation of protective power of, <a href="#pb260" class="pageref">260</a>
+</p>
+<p>Names, <a href="#pb89" class="pageref">89</a>, <a href="#pb117" class="pageref">117</a> sqq.;
+<br>flower names of girls, <a href="#pb93" class="pageref">93</a>, <a href="#pb119" class="pageref">119</a>, <a href="#pb312" class="pageref">312</a>;
+<br>avoidance of, <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a>;
+<br>of parents avoided after birth of child, <a href="#pb89" class="pageref">89</a>;
+<br>of initiates avoided during ceremonies, <a href="#pb93" class="pageref">93</a>, <a href="#pb95" class="pageref">95</a>, <a href="#pb101" class="pageref">101</a>;
+<br>of deceased avoided during mourning, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>;
+<br>of mourners avoided during mourning, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>;
+<br>new, given at turtle-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb101" class="pageref">101</a>;
+<br>interpretation of customs relating to, <a href="#pb294" class="pageref">294</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Negrito race, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>, <a href="#pb6" class="pageref">6</a>
+</p>
+<p>Netting, <a href="#pb471" class="pageref">471</a> sq.
+</p>
+<p>Nicobar Islands, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>
+</p>
+<p>Night, personified, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>;
+<br>made by spirits, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>;
+<br>legend of origin of, <a href="#pb213" class="pageref">213</a>;
+<br>legend of origin of, interpreted, <a href="#pb330" class="pageref">330</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p><i>Nila</i>, beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb163" class="pageref">163</a>
+</p>
+<p>Nomadism, <a href="#pb30" class="pageref">30</a>
+</p>
+<p>North Sentinel Island, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a>;
+<br>huts, <a href="#pb412" class="pageref">412</a>;
+<br>bow, <a href="#pb422" class="pageref">422</a>;
+<br>canoe, <a href="#pb492" class="pageref">492</a>
+</p>
+<p>Odour, symbolism of, <a href="#pb311" class="pageref">311</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Odu</i>, clay, used in turtle-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb98" class="pageref">98</a>;
+<br>used by mourners, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>;
+<br>uses of, in general, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a>;
+<br>interpretation of use of, after eating food, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>;
+<br>interpretation of use of, in initiation ceremonies, <a href="#pb281" class="pageref">281</a>;
+<br>interpretation of use of, in mourning, <a href="#pb289" class="pageref">289</a>;
+<br>interpretation of uses of, in general, <a href="#pb312" class="pageref">312</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Ogar</i>, the moon, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Oko-ǰumu</i>, see Medicine-men
+</p>
+<p><i>Oko-paiad</i>, see Medicine-men
+</p>
+<p><i>Önge</i>, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>; see also Little Andaman
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">O̱r-čubi</i>, <a href="#pb124" class="pageref">124</a>, <a href="#pb162" class="pageref">162</a>, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>;
+<br>see also <i lang="gac">Wara-J̌obo</i>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">O̱r-čubi t’e̱ra-bat</i>, name of pattern of white clay, <a href="#pb124" class="pageref">124</a>
+</p>
+<p>Origin of mankind, legends of, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Ornament, personal, <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a> sqq., <a href="#pb476" class="pageref">476</a> sqq., <a href="#pb483" class="pageref">483</a>;
+<br>interpretation of customs relating to, <a href="#pb254" class="pageref">254</a> sqq., <a href="#pb315" class="pageref">315</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Ornamentation, character of, <a href="#pb484" class="pageref">484</a>
+</p>
+<p>Ornamentation of utensils, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Ot-kimil</i>, see <i>Kimil</i>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Ot-ǰumulo</i>, double or soul, <a href="#pb166" class="pageref">166</a>, <a href="#pb304" class="pageref">304</a>
+</p>
+<p>Painting the body, <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a> sqq., <a href="#pb315" class="pageref">315</a> sqq.;
+<br>see also <i>Odu</i>, Clay, white (<i lang="gac">to̱l-odu</i>)
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Pandanus</i> leaf, belts, and ornaments of, <a href="#pb477" class="pageref">477</a>;
+<br>belts of, worn by women, <a href="#pb127" class="pageref">127</a>;
+<br>used in girl’s initiation ceremony, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Paradoxurus</i>, see Civet-cat
+</p>
+<p>Parents and children, <a href="#pb76" class="pageref">76</a>
+<span class="pageNum" id="pb503">[<a href="#pb503">503</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Peace-making ceremony, <a href="#pb134" class="pageref">134</a>;
+<br>interpretation of, <a href="#pb238" class="pageref">238</a>
+</p>
+<p>Pearl shell (<i>be</i>), used as a knife, <a href="#pb447" class="pageref">447</a>;
+<br>associated with <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>, <a href="#pb201" class="pageref">201</a>, <a href="#pb202" class="pageref">202</a>, <a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a>, <a href="#pb367" class="pageref">367</a>, <a href="#pb368" class="pageref">368</a>
+</p>
+<p>Penal settlement, first, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>;
+<br>present, <a href="#pb10" class="pageref">10</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i> (<i lang="gac">Piǰčor</i>), son of <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb150" class="pageref">150</a>, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>, <a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>, <a href="#pb217" class="pageref">217</a>, <a href="#pb371" class="pageref">371</a>, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a> footnote;
+<br>and origin of dugong, <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a>;
+<br>first discoverer of honey, <a href="#pb221" class="pageref">221</a>
+</p>
+<p>Personal ornament, see Ornament
+</p>
+<p>Personal qualities, respect for, <a href="#pb45" class="pageref">45</a>
+</p>
+<p>Personification of natural phenomena, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a> sqq., <a href="#pb377" class="pageref">377</a> sqq.;
+<br>of animals, <a href="#pb388" class="pageref">388</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Pe̱tie</i>, monitor lizard, as first ancestor, <a href="#pb193" class="pageref">193</a>
+</p>
+<p>Philippine Islands Negritos, <a href="#pb6" class="pageref">6</a>;
+<br>huts, <a href="#pb416" class="pageref">416</a>;
+<br>bows, <a href="#pb435" class="pageref">435</a>;
+<br>basket-work, <a href="#pb471" class="pageref">471</a>
+</p>
+<p>Phonetics, <a href="#pb495" class="pageref">495</a>
+</p>
+<p>Pig, method of hunting, <a href="#pb36" class="pageref">36</a>;
+<br>method of cooking, <a href="#pb37" class="pageref">37</a>;
+<br>method of cutting up prescribed by custom, <a href="#pb116" class="pageref">116</a>, <a href="#pb161" class="pageref">161</a>, <a href="#pb272" class="pageref">272</a>;
+<br>belief in danger of roasting, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>, <a href="#pb363" class="pageref">363</a> footnote;
+<br>skulls preserved, <a href="#pb274" class="pageref">274</a>;
+<br>skulls encased in basket-work by Jarawa, <a href="#pb467" class="pageref">467</a>;
+<br>the moon can take the form of, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>;
+<br>legend of how the pig got its senses, <a href="#pb217" class="pageref">217</a>;
+<br>legend of the origin of, <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a>;
+<br>position of, in legends, <a href="#pb347" class="pageref">347</a>
+</p>
+<p>Pigeon, connection with conception of children, <a href="#pb91" class="pageref">91</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Piǰčor</i>, see <i lang="gac">Pe̱rǰido</i>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Po̱ičo-tobut</i>, the first ancestor, <a href="#pb192" class="pageref">192</a>
+</p>
+<p>Population of the Andaman Islands, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a>, <a href="#pb16" class="pageref">16</a>;
+<br>estimate of former, <a href="#pb18" class="pageref">18</a>;
+<br>decrease of, <a href="#pb17" class="pageref">17</a>;
+<br>density of, <a href="#pb19" class="pageref">19</a>, <a href="#pb25" class="pageref">25</a>
+</p>
+<p>Pork, dangerous to roast, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Po̱ro̱kul</i>, husband of <i>Biliku</i> in <i>Aka-Kede</i> legend, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>
+</p>
+<p>Port Blair, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>, <a href="#pb10" class="pageref">10</a>
+</p>
+<p>Portman, M. V., <a href="#pb21" class="pageref">21</a>
+</p>
+<p>Pottery, <a href="#pb473" class="pageref">473</a>
+</p>
+<p>Prefixes in Andamanese languages, <a href="#pb23" class="pageref">23</a>, <a href="#pb496" class="pageref">496</a>
+</p>
+<p>Pregnancy, avoidances during, <a href="#pb89" class="pageref">89</a>
+</p>
+<p>Presents, as expression of good will, <a href="#pb237" class="pageref">237</a>
+</p>
+<p>Property, <a href="#pb41" class="pageref">41</a>;
+<br>in land, <a href="#pb29" class="pageref">29</a>
+</p>
+<p>Protective power of amulets explained, <a href="#pb257" class="pageref">257</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Pterocarpus</i>, peculiar beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb182" class="pageref">182</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Pteropus</i>, see Flying-fox
+</p>
+<p><i>Puki</i>, the moon, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Puluga</i>, Mr Man’s account of, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a> sqq.;
+<br>see also <i>Biliku</i>
+</p>
+<p>Punishment of crime, <a href="#pb48" class="pageref">48</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Purchas: his Pilgrimes</i>, quoted, <a href="#pb8" class="pageref">8</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Puto</i>, the sun, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>
+</p>
+<p>Quarrels, <a href="#pb48" class="pageref">48</a>
+</p>
+<p>Rainbow, beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>
+</p>
+<p>Red paint, used in initiation ceremonies, <a href="#pb99" class="pageref">99</a>, <a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a>;
+<br>used on corpse, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>;
+<br>use prohibited to mourners, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>, <a href="#pb112" class="pageref">112</a>;
+<br>used for decorating the bones of the dead, <a href="#pb112" class="pageref">112</a>;
+<br>uses of, in general, <a href="#pb125" class="pageref">125</a>;
+<br>use of, by homicide, <a href="#pb133" class="pageref">133</a>;
+<br>used in treatment of illness, <a href="#pb179" class="pageref">179</a>;
+<br>uses of, explained, <a href="#pb318" class="pageref">318</a>;
+<br>used for ornamenting utensils, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a>
+</p>
+<p>Reflection (<i lang="gac">ot-ǰumulo</i>) and the notion of soul, <a href="#pb166" class="pageref">166</a>, <a href="#pb304" class="pageref">304</a>
+</p>
+<p>Reincarnation of dead infant, <a href="#pb90" class="pageref">90</a>, <a href="#pb109" class="pageref">109</a>
+</p>
+<p>Relationship, system of, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a> sqq.;
+<br>terms of, North Andaman, <a href="#pb54" class="pageref">54</a>;
+<br>terms of, <i>Akar-Bale</i>, <a href="#pb57" class="pageref">57</a>
+</p>
+<p>Resin, used for torches, <a href="#pb476" class="pageref">476</a>;
+<br>legendary origin of use of, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a>, <a href="#pb335" class="pageref">335</a>
+</p>
+<p>Rheumatism, caused by <i>Anadendron</i>, <a href="#pb180" class="pageref">180</a>
+</p>
+<p>Ritchie, John, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>
+</p>
+<p>Rope, <a href="#pb450" class="pageref">450</a>, <a href="#pb452" class="pageref">452</a>, <a href="#pb454" class="pageref">454</a>;
+<br>ornamental, <a href="#pb456" class="pageref">456</a>
+</p>
+<p>Scarification, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>, <a href="#pb483" class="pageref">483</a>;
+<br>as remedy for illness, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>;
+<br>of boy’s back at initiation, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>;
+<br>legend of origin of, <a href="#pb219" class="pageref">219</a>;
+<br>interpretation of customs of, <a href="#pb315" class="pageref">315</a>
+</p>
+<p>Sea-eagle (<i lang="gac">Ko̱lo</i>), legend of, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>
+</p>
+<p>Seasons, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a><span id="xd33e22347">;</span>
+<br>connected with <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>, <a href="#pb149" class="pageref">149</a>, <a href="#pb351" class="pageref">351</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Semang, <a href="#pb6" class="pageref">6</a>;
+<br>huts, <a href="#pb415" class="pageref">415</a>;
+<br>bow, <a href="#pb434" class="pageref">434</a>;
+<br>basket-work, <a href="#pb470" class="pageref">470</a>
+</p>
+<p>Septs, <a href="#pb28" class="pageref">28</a>
+</p>
+<p>Shadow, and notion of soul, <a href="#pb166" class="pageref">166</a>, <a href="#pb304" class="pageref">304</a>
+</p>
+<p>Shell, implements of, <a href="#pb446" class="pageref">446</a>
+</p>
+<p>Skewer, <a href="#pb449" class="pageref">449</a>
+</p>
+<p>Sleep, as condition of danger, <a href="#pb302" class="pageref">302</a>;
+<br>prohibited to initiate during ceremonies, <a href="#pb99" class="pageref">99</a>, <a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a>
+</p>
+<p>Social Organisation, <a href="#pb22" class="pageref">22</a> sqq.
+</p>
+<p>Social personality, definition of, <a href="#pb284" class="pageref">284</a>, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a>;
+<br>not annihilated by death, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a>;
+<br>connection between name and, <a href="#pb294" class="pageref">294</a>
+</p>
+<p>Social value, definition, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a>;
+<br>expressed in beliefs in protective power of common objects, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a>;
+<br>of food, <a href="#pb270" class="pageref">270</a>;
+<br>of night and day expressed in legend, <a href="#pb331" class="pageref">331</a>;
+<br>of moonlight, <a href="#pb341" class="pageref">341</a>;
+<br>of fire, <a href="#pb342" class="pageref">342</a>;
+<br>of weather and seasons expressed in myth of <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>, <a href="#pb353" class="pageref">353</a>;
+<br>explanation of legends as expressing, <a href="#pb397" class="pageref">397</a>
+</p>
+<p>Songs, <a href="#pb131" class="pageref">131</a>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>
+</p>
+<p>Soul, notion of, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>, <a href="#pb304" class="pageref">304</a>
+</p>
+<p>Sounding-board used in dances, <a href="#pb128" class="pageref">128</a>
+</p>
+<p>Spelling of Andamanese words, <a href="#pb495" class="pageref">495</a>
+</p>
+<p>Spirits, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a> sqq., <a href="#pb168" class="pageref">168</a> sqq., <a href="#pb297" class="pageref">297</a> sqq.;
+<br>of the jungle, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>;
+<br>of the sea, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>;
+<br>of the sky, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>;
+<br>invisible, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>;
+<br>appearance of, <a href="#pb138" class="pageref">138</a>;
+<br>live in villages, <a href="#pb138" class="pageref">138</a>;
+<br>contact with, dangerous, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>;
+<br>cause illness, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>;
+<br>more dangerous at night, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>;
+<br>attracted by whistling, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>;
+<br>feed on flesh of the dead, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>;
+<br>Mr Man’s account of, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>;
+<br>night made by, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>;
+<br><span class="pageNum" id="pb504">[<a href="#pb504">504</a>]</span>rainbow belongs to, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a><span id="xd33e22603">;</span>
+<br>dead men initiated by, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>
+</p>
+<p>Spirits of the dead, <a href="#pb168" class="pageref">168</a> sqq.;
+<br>remain in the jungle and the sea, <a href="#pb168" class="pageref">168</a>;
+<br>go to <i>Maramiku</i>, <a href="#pb168" class="pageref">168</a>;
+<br>go to the east, <a href="#pb169" class="pageref">169</a>;
+<br>live with <i>Tomo</i> in the sky, <a href="#pb169" class="pageref">169</a>;
+<br>medicine-men become <i>Bilik</i>, <a href="#pb169" class="pageref">169</a>;
+<br>go to <i lang="gac">J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu</i>, <a href="#pb170" class="pageref">170</a>;
+<br>Mr Man’s account of, <a href="#pb171" class="pageref">171</a>
+</p>
+<p>Stars, beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>;
+<br>children of sun and moon, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>;
+<br>constellations not recognized, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Sterculia</i>, use of fibre of, <a href="#pb453" class="pageref">453</a>
+</p>
+<p>Stoliczka, <a href="#pb446" class="pageref">446</a>
+</p>
+<p>Stone implements, <a href="#pb444" class="pageref">444</a>, <a href="#pb450" class="pageref">450</a>
+</p>
+<p>Storms, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a>;
+<br>made by <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb156" class="pageref">156</a>;
+<br>caused by spirits of the sea, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>;
+<br>methods of stopping, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>
+</p>
+<p>String, <a href="#pb455" class="pageref">455</a>
+</p>
+<p>String figures, <a href="#pb182" class="pageref">182</a>
+</p>
+<p>Subsistence, <a href="#pb36" class="pageref">36</a>, <a href="#pb417" class="pageref">417</a>
+</p>
+<p>Sun, personified, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>;
+<br>eclipse of, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>;
+<br>made by <i>Bilika</i>, <a href="#pb203" class="pageref">203</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Tarai</i>, husband or child of <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb150" class="pageref">150</a>, <a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>;
+<br>statements about, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>;
+<br>identified with the S.W. wind, <a href="#pb353" class="pageref">353</a>;
+<br>see also <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Tauto̱bitatmo̱</i>, makes the daylight, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>
+</p>
+<p>Temple, Sir Richard, <a href="#pb21" class="pageref">21</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Tetranthera</i>, leaves used in girl’s puberty ceremony, <a href="#pb92" class="pageref">92</a>;
+<br>leaves used in pig-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a>;
+<br>skewer of wood used in pig-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a>;
+<br>plumes of shredded wood used in war-dance, <a href="#pb133" class="pageref">133</a>;
+<br>plumes of, worn by homicide, <a href="#pb133" class="pageref">133</a>;
+<br>plumes of, used in eclipse of the moon, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>;
+<br>magical properties of, <a href="#pb182" class="pageref">182</a>;
+<br>explanation of beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb260" class="pageref">260</a>
+</p>
+<p>Thunder and Lightning, personified, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>;
+<br>made by <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>, <a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>
+</p>
+<p>Tides, beliefs concerning, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a><span id="xd33e22866">;</span>
+<br>soul of dying man goes out with the tide, <a href="#pb175" class="pageref">175</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Ti-miku Lau</i>, spirits of the jungle, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">To̱lito̱n</i>, makes the rainbow, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Tomo</i>, connected with sun and fine weather, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>;
+<br>moon made by, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>;
+<br>spirits of dead live with, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>, <a href="#pb169" class="pageref">169</a>;
+<br>moon as wife of, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>;
+<br>as first man, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Tomo-la</i>, name for the ancestors, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>
+</p>
+<p><i>Toto</i> (<i lang="la">Pandanus</i>), name given to girl at first initiation ceremony, <a href="#pb93" class="pageref">93</a>
+</p>
+<p>Trees, ownership of, <a href="#pb41" class="pageref">41</a>
+</p>
+<p>Tribal names, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>, <a href="#pb24" class="pageref">24</a>
+</p>
+<p>Tribes, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>, <a href="#pb23" class="pageref">23</a> sqq.;
+<br>boundaries of, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a>;
+<br>extent of territory of, <a href="#pb25" class="pageref">25</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">Trigonostemon</i>, leaves used in sickness, <a href="#pb182" class="pageref">182</a>
+</p>
+<p>Turtle, legend of origin of, <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a>, <a href="#pb392" class="pageref">392</a>;
+<br>method of killing, prescribed by custom, <a href="#pb116" class="pageref">116</a>;
+<br>must only be cooked with <i>Hibiscus</i> wood, <a href="#pb116" class="pageref">116</a>
+</p>
+<p>Turtle-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb98" class="pageref">98</a> sqq.;
+<br>interpretation of, <a href="#pb279" class="pageref">279</a>
+</p>
+<p>Turtle net, <a href="#pb443" class="pageref">443</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Uču</i>, legend of, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a>
+</p>
+<p>Vegetable foods, <a href="#pb38" class="pageref">38</a>;
+<br>associated with <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>, <a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>, <a href="#pb200" class="pageref">200</a>
+</p>
+<p>Villages, <a href="#pb32" class="pageref">32</a>;
+<br>arrangement of, <a href="#pb34" class="pageref">34</a>
+</p>
+<p>Vital principle, <a href="#pb166" class="pageref">166</a>
+</p>
+<p>War, <a href="#pb85" class="pageref">85</a>
+</p>
+<p><i lang="gac">Wara-J̌obo</i>, <i>Puluga</i> threatened with, <a href="#pb162" class="pageref">162</a>;
+<br>mentioned in honey-eating ceremony, <a href="#pb105" class="pageref">105</a>;
+<br>legend concerning, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>
+</p>
+<p>Weather, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>;
+<br>connection with <i>Biliku</i> and <i>Tarai</i>, <a href="#pb147" class="pageref">147</a> sqq., <a href="#pb351" class="pageref">351</a> sqq.;
+<br>controlled by medicine-men, <a href="#pb178" class="pageref">178</a>;
+<br>fine, associated with <i>Tomo</i>, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>
+</p>
+<p>Weeping, ceremony of, <a href="#pb116" class="pageref">116</a>;
+<br>interpretation of, <a href="#pb239" class="pageref">239</a> sqq., <a href="#pb281" class="pageref">281</a>
+</p>
+<p>Whistling, attracts spirits, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>
+</p>
+<p>Widows, <a href="#pb75" class="pageref">75</a>;
+<br>marriage of, with deceased husband’s brother, <a href="#pb75" class="pageref">75</a>
+</p>
+<p>Winds, names of, <a href="#pb147" class="pageref">147</a>, <a href="#pb148" class="pageref">148</a>
+</p>
+<p>Women, position of, <a href="#pb47" class="pageref">47</a>;
+<br>costume of, <a href="#pb127" class="pageref">127</a>;
+<br>dance of, <a href="#pb131" class="pageref">131</a>
+</p>
+<p>Yams, associated with <i>Biliku</i>, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>, <a href="#pb198" class="pageref">198</a>;
+<br>legend of first discovery of, <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a>
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 imprint"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
+<p class="first xd33e23187">PRINTED IN ENGLAND BY J.&nbsp;B. PEACE, M.A. <br>
+AT THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="transcriberNote">
+<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2>
+<p>The new cover art included with this eBook is hereby granted to the public domain.</p>
+<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3>
+<ul>
+<li>2022-04-10 Started.
+</li>
+</ul>
+<h3 class="main">Corrections</h3>
+<p>The following 53 corrections have been applied to the text:</p>
+<table class="correctionTable">
+<tr>
+<th>Page</th>
+<th>Source</th>
+<th>Correction</th>
+<th>Edit distance</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1358">7</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="fr">dela</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="fr">de-là</td>
+<td class="bottom">2 / 1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1361">7</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="fr">vaissaux</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="fr">vaisseaux</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1364">7</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="fr">a</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="fr">à</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1622">13</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4987">68</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e6041">103</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e8210">149</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e8621">152</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e8746">156</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e19041">499</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">
+[<i>Not in source</i>]
+</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1658">13</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1673">13</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1681">14</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1752">15</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">Ja̤rawa</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">J̌a̤rawa</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2222">24</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2332">24</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e6676">119</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e6951">122</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e10472">192</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e15660">365</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">Aka-Jeru</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2467">26</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">Aka-J́eru</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">Aka-J̌eru</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3080">49</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">Tarenjek</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">Tarenǰek</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3381">55</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">-e</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">e-</td>
+<td class="bottom">2</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4642">65</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">d’ot-cat-ŋa</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="gac">d’ot-čat-ŋa</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5094">69</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">has</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">have</td>
+<td class="bottom">2</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5175">72</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">
+[<i>Deleted</i>]
+</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5281">78</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e19212">499</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">.</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e7804">144</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Tauto̱bitatmo</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Tauto̱bitatmo̱</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e9033">161</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Erem-čauga-la</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">E̱rem-čauga-la</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e10250">189</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">inǰukterto̱ia</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">inǰukte̱rto̱ia</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e10403">192</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Jutpu</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">J̌utpu</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e10543">193</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Pe̱ti</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Pe̱tie</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e10677">195</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">A-Pucikwar</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">A-Pučikwar</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e11019">199</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Ar-Kol</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Ar-Ko̱l</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e11090">199</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">.</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">
+[<i>Deleted</i>]
+</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e11248">200</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e11280">201</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">l’od-baraij</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">l’od-baraiǰ</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e11379">202</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e11427">202</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">
+[<i>Not in source</i>]
+</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">”</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e11540">203</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Mom</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Mo̱m</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e11543">203</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">aud</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">and</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e11690">204</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">
+[<i>Not in source</i>]
+</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">“</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e12247">210</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">”</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">
+[<i>Deleted</i>]
+</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e12662">217</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">koro-ŋiti-čau</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">ko̱ro-ŋiti-čau</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e13747">257</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">some</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">same</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e13760">258</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">instrinsic</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">intrinsic</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e14619">316</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">tol-odu</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">to̱l-odu</td>
+<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e14667">321</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Ths</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">This</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e19069">499</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">;</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e22347">503</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">;</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e22603">504</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e22866">504</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">:</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">;</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78356 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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author	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-04-04 07:00:18 -0700
committer	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-04-04 07:00:18 -0700
commit	441bdaf6053a4220fb631968311cc65bc0e635ea (patch)
tree	e3bc88fbf28f190cd93a626d5ae33f666a830dd0 /78356-h