CHAPTER XII
OMENS AND DREAMS
The Dyak is conscious of his ignorance of the laws which govern the world in which he lives. He feels his weakness and the need of some guidance from unseen powers. He has no knowledge of God and the revelation He has made in the Bible, and so he has devised for himself a system of omens.
There are seven birds in Borneo whose native names are: Katupong, Beragai, Kutok, Embuas, Nendak, Papau and Bejampong. These are supposed to reveal to the Dyaks the will of the great god Singalang Burong. These birds are beautiful in plumage, but, like most tropical birds, they have little song, and their calls are shrill and piercing. They are supposed to be the seven sons-in-law of Singalang Burong, and the legend which tells of how the Dyaks came to know them and to listen to their cries is given in Chap. XIV. ("The Story of Siu").
The system of bird omens as carried out by the Dyaks, is most complicated, and the younger men have constantly to ask the older ones how to act when contradictory omens are heard. The law and observance of omens occupy a great share of the thoughts of the Dyak.
Some idea of the method in which the Dyaks carry out their system of omens may be learned from what is done at the beginning of the yearly rice farming. Some man who has the reputation of being fortunate, and has had large paddy crops, will be the augur, and undertake to obtain omens for a large area of land, on which he and others intend to plant. This man begins his work some time before the Dyaks begin clearing the ground of jungle and high grass. He will have to hear the cry of the Nendak, the Katupong and the Beragai, all on his left. If these cries come from birds on his right, they are not propitious. He goes forth in the early morning, and wanders about the jungle till the cry of the Nendak is heard on his left. He will then break off a twig of anything growing near, and take it home, and put it in a safe place. But it may happen that some other omen bird or animal is first to be seen or heard. In that case he must give the matter up, return, and try his chance another day.
Thus, sometimes several days pass before he has obtained his first omen. When he has heard the Nendak, he will then listen for the Katupong and the other birds in the necessary order. There are always delays caused by the wrong birds being heard, and it may be a month or more before he hears all the necessary cries. When the augur has collected a twig for each necessary omen bird, he takes these to the land selected for farming, buries them in the ground, and with a short form of address to the omen birds and to Pulang Gana – the god of the earth – clears a small portion of the ground of grass or jungle, and then returns home. The magic virtues of the birds have been conveyed to the land, and the work of clearing it for planting may be begun at any time.
The sacred birds can be bad omens as well as good. If heard on the wrong side, or in the wrong order, the planting on a particular piece of land must be postponed, or altogether abandoned.
I have mentioned the omens necessary before planting the seed. In a similar manner, before beginning to build a house, or starting on a war expedition, or undertaking any new line of action, certain omens are required, if good fortune is to attend them and the Fates be propitious.
The worst of all omens is to find anywhere on the farm the dead body of any animal included in the omen list. It infuses a deadly poison into the whole crop. When such a terrible thing happens, the omen is tested by killing a pig, and divining from the appearance of its liver directly after death. If the liver be pronounced to be of good omen, then all is well, but if not, then all the paddy grown on that ground must be sold or given away. Other people may eat it, for the omen only affects those who own the crop.
It is not only to the cry of birds that the Dyaks pay heed. There are certain animals – the deer, the armadillo, the lizard, the bat, the python, even the rat, as well as certain insects – which all may give omens under special circumstances. But these other creatures are subordinate to the birds, from which alone augury is sought at the beginning of any important undertaking.
The Dyak pays heed to these omen creatures, not only in his farming, but in all his journeyings, and in any kind of work he may be engaged in. If he be going to visit a friend, the cry of a bird of ill omen will send him back. If he be engaged in carrying beams from the jungle to his house, and hear a Kutok, or a Bejampong or an Embuas, he will at once throw down the piece of timber. So great is the Dyak belief in omens, that a man will sometimes abandon a nearly-finished boat simply because a bird of ill omen flies across its bows. The labour of weeks will thus be wasted. I have myself seen wooden beams and posts left half finished in the jungle, and have been told that some omen bird was heard while the man was at work on them, and so they had to be abandoned.
There are many omens which make a house unfit for habitation. If a Katupong fly into it, or a Beragai over the house, or an armadillo crawls up into it, the Dyaks leave the house and build another for them to live in. Sometimes, however, they sacrifice a pig, and examine the liver, and only abandon the house if the liver is considered by experts to be of bad omen.
Dreams
The Dyaks place implicit confidence in dreams. Their theory is that during sleep the soul can hear, see and understand, and so what is dreamt is what really takes place. When anyone dreams of a distant land, they believe that his soul has paid a flying visit to that land.
In dreams, also, the gods and spirits are supposed to bring charms to human beings. The story is often told of how a man falls asleep and dreams that a spirit came to him and gave certain charms, and lo! when he awakes, he finds them in his hands. Or else he is told in a dream to go to a certain spot at a special time and pick up some stone there, which will have some mysterious influence for good over his fortunes.
Dreams are looked upon by the Dyaks as the means the gods and spirits use to convey their commands to men, or to warn them of coming danger. Houses are often deserted, and farming land, on which much labour has been spent, abandoned on account of dreams. Newly married couples often separate from the same cause. It is no unusual thing for a man or a woman to dream that the spirits are hungry and need food. In that case the inmates of the Dyak house organize a feast, and offerings are made to the hungry spirits.
CHAPTER XIII
MARRIAGES AND BURIALS
Marriages in all countries are occasions of rejoicing, and it is the same among the Dyaks. The principal part of the ceremony is the fetching of the bride from her father's to the bridegroom's house. The women-folk of the village, who are friends of the bridegroom's family, set out in a boat, gaily decorated with an awning of parti-coloured sheets, and with streamers and flags flying, to an accompaniment of gongs and drums and musical instruments, to fetch the bride to her future home.
When the boat arrives at the landing-stage of the bride's house, they all walk up – a gaily dressed crowd – and are welcomed into the house. Here they sit down and talk over the future prospects of the young couple, chewing betel-nut and sireh (a kind of pepper leaf) all the time. A portion of these chewing ingredients are carefully set aside to be used later on. The Dyak with his great love for divination, cannot allow such an occasion to pass without some attempt to find out the secrets of the future.
The company all sit down in the long common hall of the Dyak house, and the betel-nut, sireh, etc., specially set aside for the ceremony, are brought forward. A betel-nut is split into seven pieces by one supposed to be lucky in matrimonial matters, and these, together with the other ingredients of the betel-nut mixture, are all put in a little basket, which is bound together with red cloth, and laid for a short time upon the open platform adjoining the house.
The Master of the Ceremonies, who splits the betel-nut, then makes a little speech, telling the assembled guests that if either party should desert the other without sufficient reason, the offending party shall be fined such an amount as has been agreed upon.
The basket containing the split pieces of betel-nut is then brought in and uncovered, and the contents examined to ascertain the will of the gods. Should the pieces of betel-nut, by some mystic power, increase in number, the marriage will be an unusually happy one; but should they decrease, it is a bad omen, and the marriage must be postponed or relinquished altogether. But, as a matter of fact, they neither increase nor decrease, and this is taken to mean that the wedding is one upon which the spirits have pronounced neither a good nor a bad verdict.
This action gives the name to the marriage ceremony. The Dyaks call marriage Mlah Pinang– "spitting the betel-nut."
The contents of the little basket, used to discover the will of the higher powers, is chewed by those present just as other pinang and sireh, and the marriage ceremony is over; the young couple are lawfully man and wife.
For the wedding, the bride decks herself out in all the finery she possesses, or can borrow from her friends. Her wedding-dress consists of a short petticoat of Dyak-woven cloth, which reaches to her knees. Along the bottom edge of this there are sewed several rows of tinsel, and of silver coins, below which probably hang some rows of hawk-bells, which make a tinkling sound as she walks. Round her waist are several coils of brass or silver chain, and two or three belts made of dollars or other silver coins linked together. From her hips upwards, as far as her armpits, she wears a corset formed by threading split cane through a great number of small brass rings, arranged so closely together as to completely hide the cane. To this corset may be fixed two or three bands of silver coins. Her armlets of brass or silver extend as far up as her elbow. As many rings as she possesses are on her fingers, and she wears necklaces of small beads, worked in very beautiful patterns, and finished off with a tassel of beads, or else a large number of big silver or brass buttons strung together round her neck. Her ears are decorated with filigreed studs of silver gilt, with a setting of scarlet cloth behind the filigree work to show them off.
In her hair is a towering comb of silver filigree work, to which are attached a number of silver spangles, which glitter with every movement of her head. She wears her hair in a knot into which are stuck a number of large brass hair-pins, decorated with beads and little tags of red and yellow and white cloth. She possesses a bright coloured jacket of Dyak-woven cloth; but she does not wear it, it is slung over her right shoulder.
After this detailed description of the bride's dress, it is disappointing to learn that the bridegroom takes no special pains to ornament his person. The men wear a great deal of finery when they attend a feast, or when they go on the war-path, but on the occasion of his wedding, the bridegroom takes no extra trouble over his apparel.
Burials
As soon as a man dies, the professional mourner sits on a swing near the head of the corpse and sings a long dirge, blaming the different parts of the house, beginning with the roof-ridge and proceeding downwards, for not keeping back the soul of the dead man.
Then the corpse is carried out into the public part of the house, and is covered with a Dyak sheet. By his side are put his belongings – his clothes, his implements of work, his shield, his sword, his spear – which are to be buried with him, or placed on his grave.
Early the following morning the body, wrapped in mats, and secured with a light framework of wood, is carried on the shoulders of four men, and, accompanied by their friends, they go to the jungle. When they come to the spot where a tree is to be cut down for the coffin, a halt is made. A fowl is killed, and the blood collected in a cup, and mixed with a little water. Each person present is touched with the blood, to propitiate the gods, and to secure safety from any evil consequences to the persons engaged in the funeral rites. They now set to work to make the coffin. A tree is felled and the required length cut off. This is split in two, and each half is hollowed out. The corpse is then placed inside this rude coffin, the two parts of which are now firmly lashed together with cane.
They then proceed either on foot or by boat to the place of burial. The trees in a Dyak burial-ground are not cut down, so there is nothing to distinguish it from any ordinary jungle. The Dyaks regard a cemetery with superstitious terror as the abode of spirits, and never go to it except to bury their dead, and when they do this, they do not stay longer than they can help, but hurry away lest they should meet some spirit from the other world.
The graves are rarely more than three feet deep. The Dyaks dare not step into the grave to deepen it, because, according to their superstitious ideas, any one who does such a thing will die a violent death. They use no spade or hoe to turn up the earth, but cut the soil with their choppers, and throw up the mould with their hands. They dig the grave as far as their arms will reach, and no farther.
When the corpse is buried, there are placed either in the grave or on it, for use in the next world, various articles of clothing, personal ornaments, weapons of warfare, implements of farm work, and even instruments of music, according to the sex and natural proclivities of the dead. Some of these belong to the departed; others are given by friends as tokens of affection.
When the grave has been filled with earth, it is fenced round, and food and drink are placed in the enclosure, and at either end something is put to indicate the sex and favourite occupation of the deceased. If the grave be that of a warrior, it is roofed and decorated with streamers, and such of his weapons as are not buried with him are hung about, and the ground around is palisaded and spiked. The grave of the hunter is distinguished by his spear, his blow-pipe and quiver, together with the trophies of the chase – stags' antlers, and boars' tusks. Some articles of feminine attire or work – spindles, petticoats, waist-rings, or water-gourds – indicate the graves of women.
CHAPTER XIV
A DYAK LEGEND
There are many fairy-tales and legends known to the Dyaks of the present day. As they have no written language, these have been handed down by word of mouth, from generation to generation, from ancient times. These tales and legends may be divided into two classes: 1. Those which are mythical and related as such, which are simply meant to interest and amuse, and in these respects resemble the fairy-tales familiar to us all. 2. And those believed by them to be perfectly true, and to record events which have actually taken place. These form in fact the mythology of the Dyaks. The following legend is related by them as explaining how they came to plant rice, and to observe the omens of birds:
The Story of Siu
Many thousands of years ago, before the paddy plant was known, the Dyaks lived on tapioca, yams, potatoes and such fruit as they could find in the jungle. It was not till Siu taught them to plant paddy3 that such a thing as rice was known. The story of how he came to know this article of food, and how he and his son, Seragunting, introduced it among the Dyaks is here set forth.
Siu was the son of a great Dyak chief. His father died when he was quite a child, and at the time this story begins, he had grown to manhood, and lived with his mother, and was the head of a long Dyak house in which lived some three hundred families. He was strong and active, and handsome in appearance, and there was no one in the country round equal to him either in strength or comeliness.
He proposed to the young men of his house that they should take their blow-pipes and darts and go into the jungle to shoot birds. So one morning they all started early. Each man had with him his bundle of food for the day, and each went a different way, as they wished to see, on returning in the evening, who would be the most successful of them all.
Siu wandered about the whole morning in the jungle, but, strange to say, he did not see any bird, nor did he meet with any animal. Worn out with fatigue, he sat down to rest under a large tree, and, feeling hungry, he ate some of the food he had brought with him. It was now long past midday, and he had not succeeded in killing a single bird! Suddenly he heard, not far off, the sound of birds, and hurrying in that direction, he came to a wild fig-tree covered with ripe fruit, which a very large number of birds were busy eating. Never before had he seen such a sight! On this one tree the whole feathered population of the forest seemed to have assembled together!
Siu hid himself under the thick leaves of a shrub growing near, and taking a poisoned dart, he placed it in his blow-pipe and shot it out. He had aimed at one bird and hit it. But that bird was not the only one that fell dead at his feet. To his astonishment, he saw that many of the other birds near it were killed also. Again he shot out a dart, and again the same thing happened. In a very short time, Siu had killed as many birds as he could carry.
He tried to return the same way he came, but soon found himself in difficulties. He wandered about, and walked several miles, but could not find the jungle path which he had followed early in the day. It was beginning to grow dusk, and Siu was afraid he would have to spend the night in the jungle.
Great was his joy, just as he was giving up all hope, to come to a garden and a path leading from it. Siu followed this path, knowing it would lead him to some house not far off. He soon came to a well, and near at hand he saw the lights of a long Dyak house. He stopped to have a bath, and hid the birds he was carrying, and his blow-pipe and quiver in the brushwood near the well, hoping to take them with him when he started to return the next morning.
He walked up to the house, and when he came to the bottom of the ladder leading up to it he shouted: "Oh, you people in the house, will you allow a stranger to walk up?" A voice answered, "Yes; come up!"
He walked up into the house. To his surprise he saw no one in the long public hall in front of the different rooms. That part of a Dyak house, usually so crowded, was quite empty. All was silent. Even the person who answered him was not there to receive him.
He saw a dim light further on, and walked towards it, wondering what had happened to all the people of the house. Presently he heard a woman's voice in the room say: "Sit down, Siu; I will bring out the pinang4 and sireh5 to you." Soon a young and remarkably pretty girl came out of the room with the chewing ingredients, which she placed before him.
"Here you are at last, Siu," she said; "I expected you would come earlier. How is it you are so late?"
Siu explained that he had stopped at the well to have a bath, as he was hot and tired.
"You must be very hungry," said the girl; "wait a moment while I prepare some food. After you have eaten, we can have our talk together."
When Siu was left to himself, he wondered what it all meant. Here was a long Dyak house built for more than a hundred families to live in, and yet it seemed quite deserted. The only person in it appeared to be the beautiful girl who was cooking his food for him. He was also surprised that she knew his name, and expected him that day.
"Come in, Siu," said the voice from the room; "your food is ready."
Siu was hungry, and went in at once. When they had done eating, she cleared away the plates and tidied the room. Then she spread out a new mat for him, and brought out the pinang and sireh, and bade him be seated as she wished to have a chat with him.
Siu had many questions to ask, but before he could do so, she said to him, "Tell me of your own people, and what news you bring from your country."
"There is no news to give you," Siu replied. "We have been rather badly off for food, as our potatoes and yams did not turn out so well this year as we hoped."
"Tell me what made you come in this direction, and how it was you found out this house."
"While I was hunting in the jungle to-day, I lost my way. After wandering about a long time, I found a path which I followed and came to this house. It was kind of you to take me in and give me food. If I had not found this house, I should have had to spend the night in the jungle. To-morrow morning you must show me the way back to my village. My mother is sure to be anxious about me. She is left all alone now that I am away. My father died a long time ago, and I am her only son."
"Do not go away as soon as to-morrow morning. Stay here a few days at any rate."
At first Siu would not consent, but she spoke so nicely to him, that she persuaded him to stay there at least a week. Then he went out to the verandah, and she brought out a mat for him to sleep on, and a sheet to cover himself with. As Siu was very tired, he soon fell sound asleep, and did not wake up till late the following morning.
Now, though Siu knew it not, this was the house of the great Singalang Burong, the ruler of the spirit-world. He was able to change himself and his followers into any form. When going forth on an expedition against the enemy, he would transform himself and his followers into birds, so that they might travel more quickly. Over the high trees of the jungle, over the broad rivers, sometimes even across the sea, Singalang Burong and his flock would fly. There was no trouble about food, for in the forests there were always some wild trees in fruit, and while assuming the form of birds, they lived on the food of birds. In his own house and among his own people, Singalang Burong appeared as a man. He had eight daughters, and the girl who had cooked food for Siu was the youngest of them.
After Siu had been in the house seven days, he thought he ought to be returning to his own people. By this time he was very much in love with the girl who had been so kind to him, and he wished above all things to marry her, and take her back with him to his own country.
"I have been here a whole week," he said to her, "I want to say something, and I hope you will not be vexed with me."
"Speak on; I promise not to be angry at anything you say."
"I have learnt to love you very much," said Siu, "and I would like to marry you, if you will consent, and take you with me to my own land. Also, I wish you to tell me your name, and why this house is so silent, and where all the people belonging to it are."
"I will consent to marry you, for I also love you. But you must first promise me certain things. In the first place, you must not tell your people of this house, and what you have seen here. Then you must promise faithfully not to hurt a bird or even to hold one in your hands. If ever you break these promises, then we cease to be man and wife."
"Yes," said Siu, "I promise not to speak of what I have seen here until you give me leave to do so. And as you do not wish it, I will never hurt or handle a bird."
"Now that you have promised what I wish, I will tell you of myself and the people of this house," said the maiden. "I am known to my friends as Bunsu Burong (the youngest of the bird family), or Bunsu Katupong (the youngest of the Katupong family). This house as you noticed seems very empty. The reason is that a month ago many of our people were killed by some of the people in your house, and we are still in mourning for them. As you know when our relatives have lately died, we stay silent in our rooms, and do not come out to receive visitors or entertain them. On the morning of the day on which you arrived, all the men of this house went on the war-path, so as to obtain some human heads, to enable us to put away our mourning. With us as with you, it is necessary that one or more human heads be brought into the house before the inmates can give up sorrowing for their dead relatives and friends. All the people in this house, when at home, are in the form of human beings, but they are able to transform themselves into birds. My father, Singalang Burong, is the head of this house. I am the youngest of eight sisters. We have no brothers alive; our only brother died not long ago, and we are still in mourning for him, and that is the reason why my sisters did not come out to greet you."