CHAPTER III

RELIGIOUS AND MAGICAL BELIEFS

The Andaman Islanders believe in the existence of a class of supernatural beings which I propose to denote by the term “spirits.” The native name for these spirits is lau, lao or yau in the languages of the North and Middle Andaman, and čauga in the South Andaman. While all spirits are denoted together by the term lau or čauga, there are certain special classes of spirits. There are, for instance, spirits that haunt the jungles of the islands. These are called in the North Andaman Ti-miku Lau, from the word ti-miku meaning the forest, or more accurately “land.” (The only land known to the Andamanese is covered with forest.) In Aka-Bea the name for these jungle spirits is E̱rem Čauga, the word e̱rem being the equivalent in that language of the Northern ti-miku. In the North Andaman the Ti-miku Lau are often called Bido Teč Lau, i.e., spirits of the Calamus leaf, bido being the name of the Calamus tigrinus. This cane is armed with strong thorns, and in some parts of the jungle forms absolutely impenetrable thickets. The natives say that the spirits haunt these thickets, and hence their name.

There are other spirits that live in the sea. Although these may be included under the term Lau or Čauga, when it is used in a general sense, yet there is a special name for the sea spirits, J̌urua in the North Andaman, and J̌uruwin in Aka-Bea. The J̌urua are beings of the same nature as the Ti-miku Lau, with the difference that they live in the sea, while the latter live in the forest.

In the South Andaman the natives also speak of another class of spirits who live in the sky and are called Mo̱rua or Mo̱rowin.

When an Andamanese man or woman dies he or she becomes a spirit, i.e., a Lau or Čauga. The bones of a dead person, which are dug up after the flesh has decayed, are called Lau to̱i in the North Andaman, to̱i being the word for “bone.” The skull is Lau t’e̱r-čo, from the word e̱r-čo meaning “head.” Exactly similar terms are in use in Aka-Bea, the bones of a dead man being called Čauga ta (spirit bones).

The Andamanese relate legends, to be described in the next chapter, which concern the doings of mythical ancestors. As all Andamanese, when they die, become Lau, these ancestors are of course included under that term. They are often distinguished from the spirits of persons recently dead by being denoted as Lau t’e̱r-kuro, from the word e̱r-kuro meaning “big,” and applied to human beings to denote importance of social position. Just as a man who occupies a prominent position in his tribe is called a “big” man (e̱r-kuro), so the ancestors of the Andamanese legends are called “big” spirits. The Aka-Bea use a similar term, Čauga tabaŋa, to distinguish the ancestors from the spirits of ordinary persons.

The name Lau or Čauga is also applied by the Andamanese to the natives of India and Burma whom they see in the Penal Settlement of Port Blair. The Aka-J̌eru name for the Penal Settlement is Lau-t’ara-nyu, literally “the village of the spirits.” At the present time the term Lau or Čauga is not applied to Europeans, who are generally spoken of in the North Andaman by the Hindustani word “sahib.” Natives of the North Andaman told me that in former times (before 1875) they applied the term Lau to Europeans also not distinguishing them from other light-skinned aliens. The necessity for distinguishing between Asiatics, such as natives of India, and Europeans, has only arisen since they have come to have dealings with the Penal Settlement.

The term Lau is not applied by the Andamanese to aliens of their own race. Nor would it be applied, I believe, to men of other black races such as the African negro. I showed the natives photographs of Semang from the Malay Peninsula and also of natives of Africa and New Guinea, and in all cases they called them J̌a̤rawa, that being the term applied by the Great Andaman tribes to the natives of the Little Andaman. On the other hand they called Polynesians Lau.

For many centuries the Andaman Islanders have been accustomed to see light-skinned men visit their shores in ships, Europeans, natives from the coasts of India, Burma and Malaya, and occasionally perhaps Chinese. To these aliens they gave the name of Lau, apparently regarding them as visitors from the only other world they knew of, the world of spirits [69]. The clothes that these “spirits” wore they called Lau ot-ǰulu, the word ot-ǰulu meaning “cold.”

The spirits of the forest and the sea are believed to be generally invisible, but there are tales of men and women who have seen them, and their personal appearance is sometimes described. The descriptions vary considerably from one informant to another. One of the commonest statements is that they are light or white skinned. (The Andamanese vocabulary does not allow of any distinction between white and a light gray or a light shade of colour.) One man, however, said that the forest spirits are black (or dark), while the sea spirits are white (or light). I was told several times that the spirits have long hair and beards (the Andamanese having, as a rule, no beard, and their hair, being frizzy, never growing to any length). Their arms and legs are said to be abnormally long, while they have only small bodies. Though there is no uniformity in the way in which the natives describe the spirits of the jungle and the sea, there is a notable tendency to associate them with the grotesque, the ugly, and the fearful. There is a common belief that the spirits, both of the jungle and of the sea, carry about with them lights, which several men and women claim to have seen.

In reply to the question as to how the spirits of the forest and the sea originated, the natives all agree in saying that they are the spirits of dead men and women.

The jungle spirits live in a village (or villages) in the forest. There is a belief that mortals wandering by themselves in the jungle have been captured by the spirits. Should the captive show any fear, my informants said, the spirits would kill him, but if he were brave they would take him to their village, detaining him for a time, and then releasing him to return to his friends. A man to whom such an adventure has happened will be endowed for the rest of his life with power to perform magic. He will pay occasional visits to his friends the spirits. The natives told me of one such man who died not many years ago. At irregular intervals he used to wander off into the jungle by himself and remain absent for a few hours, sometimes for a day or two. He returned to the village after such an absence looking strange and wearing ornaments of shredded palm-leaf (koro) which he claimed had been placed upon him by the spirits.

Save for persons who have made friends with them, and have thereby become endowed with magical powers, all contact with the spirits of the jungle and the sea, or with the spirit of a dead man, is dangerous. The spirits are believed to be the cause of all sickness and of all deaths resulting from sickness. As a man wanders in the jungle or by the sea, the spirits come invisibly and strike him, whereupon he falls ill, and may die. A man or woman is more likely to be attacked by the spirits if he or she is alone, and it is therefore always better to be in company when away from the village. The spirits rarely venture into the village itself, though they may prowl round it, particularly at night. They are more dangerous at night than during the day.

There are many objects that are believed to have the power of keeping spirits at a distance, and thus of preserving human beings from the danger of sickness. Amongst the most important of these are fire, arrows, human bones, bees’-wax, and red paint. A man or a woman leaving a hut to go only a few yards at night will always carry a fire-brand as a protection against spirits that may be prowling in the neighbourhood. If the night be dark a torch is carried in addition to the fire-stick.

The Andamanese will never whistle at night, as they believe that the noise of whistling would attract spirits. On the other hand they believe that singing will keep the spirits away.

The spirits that haunt the woods and waters of a man’s own home are regarded as being less dangerous to him than those of a country in which he is a stranger. A man of the Aka-Čari tribe who was with me in Rutland Island had a cold on his chest. He asked me for permission to return to his own country, explaining that the spirits of Rutland Island were, so to speak, at enmity with him, and that if he stayed longer he would be seriously ill, and perhaps die, while on the other hand, the spirits of his own country were friendly towards him, and once he was amongst them he would quickly recover.

There is a belief that the spirits feed on the flesh of dead men and women. The jungle spirits eat those who are buried on land, and the J̌urua devour those who are drowned or otherwise lost in the sea.

Mr Man’s account of the spirits of the jungle and sea contains an important error, which needs to be pointed out. He writes as though there were only one E̱rem Čauga (jungle spirit) and only one J̌uruwin (sea spirit), whereas each of these names is the name not of a single individual but of a class of supernatural beings of which there is an indefinite number. The following is Mr Man’s account:—E̱rem-čauga-la, the “evil spirit of the woods, has a numerous progeny by his wife Čana Badgi-lola, who remains at home with her daughters and younger children, while her husband and grown up sons roam about the jungles with a lighted torch attached to their left legs, in order that the former may injure any unhappy wights who may meet them unprotected, and in the dark; he generally makes his victims ill, or kills them by wounding them internally with invisible arrows, and if he is successful in causing death, it is supposed that they feast upon the raw flesh.” “As regards J̌uruwin, the evil spirit of the sea, they say that he too is invisible, and lives in the sea with his wife and children, who help him to devour the bodies of those who are drowned or buried at sea; fish constitute the staple of his food, but he also occasionally, by way of variety, attacks the aborigines he finds fishing on the shores or by the creeks. The weapon he uses is a spear, and persons who are seized with cramp or any sudden illness, on returning from, or while on the water are said to have been ‘speared’ by J̌uruwin. He has various submarine residences, and boats for travelling under the surface of the sea, while he carries with him a net, in which he places all the victims, human or piscine, he may succeed in capturing [70].”

Mr Portman correctly translates the word J̌uruwin as meaning “the spirits of the sea” using the plural and not the singular [71].

Further references to the Andamanese beliefs about the spirits will be found later in the chapter. It is necessary at this point to consider an entirely different class of beings.

The Andaman Islanders personify the phenomena of nature with which they are acquainted, such as the sun and the moon. Before relating in detail what could be learnt about their beliefs on these matters, it is necessary to call attention to one feature of these beliefs. Different statements, not only of different informants, but even of the same informant, are often quite contradictory. For example, it is sometimes said that lightning is a person, and at other times it is said that lightning is a fire-brand thrown across the sky by a mythical being named Biliku. These two statements, which to all logical thinking are incompatible, are both given, and apparently both equally believed, by the same person. Many examples of such contradictions will be found in what follows, and it is important to point out their existence beforehand.

About the sun and moon, the most usual statement in all the tribes is that the sun is the wife of the moon and the stars are their children. In the North Andaman the moon is Maia Dula (Aka-Čari) or Maia Čirikli (Aka-J̌eru), the sun is Mimi Diu and their children the stars are Čatlo, the larger ones, and Katań the smaller. Čatlo is the name of a species of finely marked beetle, and katań is the name of the common fire-fly. Individual stars or constellations are not recognized.

Another version from the same tribes is that the moon (Dula) is female, and has a husband named Maia Tok, while the sun (Diu or To̱rodiu) is male.

In the Aka-J̌eru tribe there is a belief that the moon (Maia Čirikli) can, when he wishes, turn himself into a pig, and come down to earth and feed on the things that the pigs eat. There is a legend that on one occasion the moon thus turned himself into a pig and came down to earth to eat the čuei fruit. A man named Maia Čoinyop met the moon (in the form of a pig) in the forest, and shot him with an arrow. Čirikli (the moon) took out his knife and killed the unfortunate Čoinyop, cutting off his head, which he left behind, and taking the body up to the sky where he ate it.

In the A-Pučikwar tribe the most common statement is that the moon (Puki) is male and that the sun (Puto) is his wife. A different statement from the same tribe is that the moon is female and is the wife of a being named Tomo. Tomo seems to be to some extent identified with the sun. Thus one informant said that it is Tomo who sends the fine weather, and that it is he who sends the daylight every day. Where Tomo lives, in the sky, it is always day and is always fine. When the natives die their spirits go up to the sky and live with Tomo. We shall see in the next chapter that, according to some of the legends, Tomo is the first ancestor of the Andamanese.

Yet another version is that the moon was made by Tomo out of opalescent stone, and it is Tomo who, in some way, regulates its passage across the sky.

A belief about the moon which is found in all the tribes, both of the North and the South, is that he will be very angry if there is any fire, or any bright light, visible when he rises in the evening shortly after sundown. At such times the natives are careful to cover up their fires so that they only smoulder without flame. Mr Man refers to this custom. “From fear of displeasing Maia Ogar (Mr Moon), during the first few evenings of the third quarter, when he rises after sundown, they preserve silence, cease from any work on which they may be engaged—even halting should they be travelling—and almost extinguishing any light or fire that may be burning. This is owing to the belief that he is jealous of attention being distracted to other objects than himself at such a time, or of any other light being employed than that which he had been graciously pleased to afford so abundantly. By the time the moon has ascended a few degrees, however, they restore their fires and resume their former occupations, as they consider that they have sufficiently complied with Maia Ogar’s wishes and requirements. The glowing aspect of the full moon on its first appearance above the horizon is supposed to indicate that Maia Ogar is enraged at finding some persons neglecting to observe these conciliatory measures; there is also an idea that, if he be greatly annoyed, he will punish them by withdrawing or diminishing the light of his countenance [72].”

As regards the waxing and waning of the moon, Mr Man says that these are explained by the Aka-Bea “by saying that they are occasioned by ‘his’ applying a coating of cloud to his person by degrees, after the manner of their own use of ko̱iob (red paint) and tala-o̱g (white clay) and then gradually wiping it off [73].” In the Aka-Kede tribe the natives say that as Maia Čirike (Sir Moon) goes across the sky, his tongue hangs out of his mouth, sometimes more, sometimes less, and that it is the tongue that is visible, that gives the light. I did not hear any explanation of the waxing and waning of the moon in the tribes of the North Andaman. In these tribes the new moon is called Dula e-tire, i.e. the “baby moon,” the word e-tire denoting the young offspring of an animal or a human being.

With regard to a lunar eclipse Mr Man writes that “in case Maia Ogar should be so ill-advised as permanently to withhold his light or render himself in other ways still more disagreeable, whenever the moon is eclipsed some persons at once seize their bows and twang them as rapidly as possible, thereby producing a rattling sound as if discharging a large number of arrows, while others commence at once sharpening their rata (arrows). Of course this hostile demonstration is never lost upon the moon, who does not venture to hurt those who show themselves ready to give him so uncomfortable a reception. Their immunity from harm on these occasions has given rise to some joking at the expense of the luminary in question, for, during the continuance of the eclipse, they shout in inviting tones to the hidden orb as follows:—Ogar, laden balak ban lebe ŋ’idoati! doati! doati! (O Moon, I will give you the seed of the balak! show yourself! appear! appear!) This is said derisively, for, although these seeds are largely consumed by the pigs, the aborigines do not consider them fit for food [74].”

It may be noted that the invitation to the moon to eat balak seeds is not perhaps derisive, but may be connected with the belief that the moon can turn himself into a pig in order to feed on the things that pigs eat.

There was no eclipse of the moon during my stay in the islands. The natives of the North Andaman told me that on such an occasion they frighten the moon into showing himself again by lighting the end of a bamboo arrow-shaft, and shooting it from a bow in the direction of the moon. Another custom of which they told me is to take plumes of shredded Tetranthera wood (čelmo or uǰ) and blow on them towards the moon.

Mr Man states that “a solar eclipse alarms them too much to allow of their indulging in jests or threats, &c.: during the time it lasts they all remain silent and motionless, as if in momentary expectation of some calamity [75].”

There are several different accounts in the North Andaman of the phenomena of day and night. The night is often personified and is called Mimi Bat (Lady Night). One version is that it is she who makes the night while Maia To̱rodiu makes the day. Diu is the name of the sun, and to̱ro-diu really means “the full sun” and refers to the middle part of the day when the sun is well up in the sky.

Another Northern version is that the daylight is made by a being named Tauto̱bitatmo̱ who lives in the sky. He shuts up the day under a stone every evening and lets it out every morning. Of Tauto̱bitatmo̱ I was told that he is sometimes to be seen in the evening sky, but I was not able to discover to what natural phenomenon reference was made. I was also unable to discover the meaning of the name, which is a compound, tau being the sky.

Still another version from the same tribes is that it is a being named Maia Čara who makes the daylight. Čara seems to be the equivalent of the Tomo of the A-Pučikwar and other Southern tribes. He is sometimes said to have been the first ancestor, and sometimes the creator, of the Andamanese. He lives in the sky.

Another belief about the night connects it with the spirits. The Lau (spirits) in the sky, wrap up the night in a cloth or mat. When they unroll the cloth it becomes dark. The natives of the North Andaman formerly called cloth lau-ot-ǰulu, from a stem -ǰulu meaning “cold.” They were only acquainted with cloth through seeing it used by the aliens who visited their shores, and whom they called spirits (Lau).

In the North Andaman thunder and lightning are commonly personified. The lightning is Ele or Ali, and the thunder is Korude or Korule. Some of the natives spoke of Mimi Ele (female) and others of Maia Ele (male). He lives in the sky, which is regarded as being made of stone (or rock) and is called tau-meo (the sky-stone). The lightning is due to his shaking his foot. One rather obscure statement was to the effect that Ele spends most of his time asleep or lying down and doing nothing. When the weather gets bad Lato (a being that I could not identify), comes and worries Ele and wakes him up. Then Ele gets angry and shakes his leg. This is the lightning.

Thunder (Korude) also lives in the sky. It is said that he makes the thunder by means of a large round stone. One account is that he rolls the stone about over the sky. Another is that he makes the stone hot, and this produces the thunder.

An entirely different explanation of thunder and lightning, which is found in all the tribes, is that they are made by two beings named Tarai and Biliku, to be described later on in this chapter.

I never heard the rain (ǰiče̱r) spoken of as a person in the same way as thunder and lightning. One explanation of rain is that the sky-stone (tau-meo) gets cold, and this turns the mist (milite) into rain. Another is that in the sky there is a large hollow or pool, which gets filled with water and then overflows. Still another version is that the rain is made by a being (or beings) named Čaitoŋ, who seems to be female and lives in the sky. I could not obtain any satisfactory information about her.

In all parts of the islands the rainbow is believed to have some connection with the spirits of the jungle or of the sea. One very common statement is that it is a bridge of cane that stretches between this world and the world of departed spirits. It is along the rainbow that the spirits travel when they visit the earth. It is necessary to correct a statement by Mr Portman on this matter. In connection with the Aka-Bea word for the rainbow, pidga-l’ar-čauga, he says “The root pidga (a rainbow) must not be confounded with the root pidga ‘a cane’ or ‘rattan.’ The Andamanese have certain legends regarding the uses of the rainbow, and these have been hitherto understood as referring to ‘canes.’ Pidga-l’ar-čauga means ‘the rainbow (bridge) by which the spirits (cross)’ [76].” Mr Portman is in error. The word pidga means “cane” and the whole word means “the cane of the spirits.” It is the whole word that is the name of the rainbow, and not the word pidga. An exactly similar compound name for the rainbow exists in each of the languages of the Great Andaman. The name of the particular species of large cane varies, being pidga in Aka-Bea, peta in A-Pučikwar, pir in Aka-J̌eru, and so on. Apart from the fact that the natives themselves say that the rainbow is a “cane,” Mr Portman would have us believe that in each of the different languages there are two exactly similar words, different in the different languages, one of which means “cane” and the other “rainbow,” while there is no connection between the words. Thus Aka-Bea would have pidga meaning “a kind of cane” and pidga meaning “a rainbow.” Aka-J̌eru would have pir meaning “cane” and pir meaning “rainbow.”

The rainbow is generally regarded as an evil omen, being believed to be a precursor of sickness. One Aka-J̌eru statement is that it is made by a being called To̱lito̱ŋ and that when it appears somebody will be ill.

The only explanation of the tides that I heard was to the effect that they are caused by a fish, a species of Tetrodon, called čolmo in Aka-J̌eru and pit in Aka-Kede, which drinks up the water and then lets it out again.

The Andaman Islands are occasionally visited by earthquakes. An Aka-Kede account of how earthquakes are caused is that when a man dies he goes to the spirit world which is beneath the earth. The spirits hold a ceremony. My informant spoke of the ceremony as Kimil, which is the name of the initiation ceremonies. At this ceremony they have a dance similar to the peace-making dance described in the last chapter, but instead of erecting a screen such as is used in that ceremony, they make use of the rainbow. As they shake the rainbow in dancing this causes earthquakes. The ceremony which newly-arrived spirits have to undergo in the world after death is a po̱ro̱to kimil, i.e., the initiate eats po̱ro̱to (Caryota sobolifera).

Among the most important of the Andamanese beliefs are those relating to the weather and the seasons. These are under the control of two beings named Biliku, Bilik or Puluga, and Tarai, Teriya, or Daria. There are a certain number of points in which the statements of one informant may differ from those of another in connection with these two mythical beings, but there are also a certain number of points on which there is absolute unanimity in all the tribes of the Great Andaman.

The first belief in which there is entire unanimity is that of the connection of Biliku and Tarai with the two chief winds that are known in the Andamans. Biliku lives in the north-east and is connected with the north-east monsoon. Tarai lives in the south-west and is connected with the south-west monsoon. The connection is shown in the names of these winds, which are as follows:—

Language N.E. Wind S.W. Wind

Aka-Cari, Aka-Bo, Aka-Kora, Aka-Jeru Biliku boto Tarai boto Oko-Juwoi, Aka-Kol and A-Pucikwar Bilik to Teriya Akar-Bale Puluga toa Daria Aka-Bea Puluga ta Deria

In the Northern tribes the word bo̱to means “wind.” Biliku bo̱to must be translated “the Biliku wind,” and Tarai bo̱to is similarly “the Tarai wind.” It would be incorrect to translate the name Biliku bo̱to as “the wind of Biliku,” for this would be rendered in Aka-J̌eru by Biliku ičo bo̱to. In A-Pučikwar the south-west wind is called Teriya simply, the name of the mythical being connected with the wind being used as the name of the wind itself, just as is the case with the name Ele (lightning). On the other hand the north-east wind is called not Bilik but Bilik to̱. The same thing occurs also in the Akar-Bale and Aka-Bea languages.

Mr Portman translates the Aka-Bea term Puluga ta as “God’s wind,” and he adds, in explanation, “Puluga ta means ‘God’s wind,’ and the reason for the name is not known. Some vague ideas regarding the direction of God’s dwelling in the sky are the probable origin of the term [77].” As regards the translation of the Andamanese name Puluga by the English “God” more will be said later. Leaving that aside, it is important to note that Puluga ta does not mean “Puluga’s wind.” The word for wind in Aka-Bea is given by Mr Portman himself as wul-ŋa, and the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar equivalents are poat-ŋa and po̱te, being forms of the same stem as the Northern bo̱to. The translation of “Puluga’s wind” in A-Pučikwar would be Bilik l’iye po̱te, but this is not a phrase that the natives ever use. It is not possible to translate “Puluga’s wind” accurately in Akar-Bale. Puluga poat-ŋa would mean “Puluga blowing” the -ŋa being a verbal ending. In any case Bilik to̱, and Puluga toa are not to be translated as meaning “Puluga’s wind.”

It may be observed, in reference to Mr Portman’s statement, that the notions of the Andamanese as to the direction of the dwelling of Puluga in the sky are very far from vague. The natives all agree that Puluga or Biliku lives in the direction from which the north-east wind blows, really N.N.E. This is shown in geographical names. For example the side of Havelock Island that faces north-east is called Puluga-l’ar-mugu, meaning “the side that faces Puluga,” from ar-mugu meaning “front” or “face.”

There are two matters, then, on which there is absolute unanimity in all the tribes of the Great Andaman, one being the connection of Biliku (or Puluga) with the north-east and of Tarai (or Deria) with the south-west, and the other being the connection of these two beings with the winds that blow from these two opposite points of the compass.

The connection of these two beings with winds is shown in another way in the A-Pučikwar tribe, where the winds are divided into two divisions. One division contains only the south-west wind, which is of extreme regularity, and blows steadily for about five months in every year. This wind is called Teriya. The other division contains all the other winds, and they are collectively denoted by the term Bilik. They are distinguished by names, as J̌ila Bilik (the east Bilik, from ǰila, east), Ko̱ico Bilik (the west Bilik), Me̱tepur Bilik, Čo̱liatum Bilik, Rartear Bilik, and Ko̱ičor-to̱ŋ Bilik. Here we find the name Bilik used not as the name of a single person, but as a common name for a class of beings who are the winds personified. The same use of the term is found also in the Aka-Ko̱l tribe.

Even in the Akar-Bale tribe something of the same kind is found. One Akar-Bale man said that Puluga has two brothers, J̌ila Puluga (East Puluga) and Koaičo Puluga (West Puluga); the one sends all the easterly winds and the other all the westerly ones.

In the Andamans the year is divided into two nearly equal portions. During the season of the south-west monsoon, which lasts from May to September, the wind blows steadily from the south-west. This is the rainy season. Violent storms never or only very rarely occur during the season of the south-west wind. From December to March the wind blows mostly from the N.N.E., occasionally changing to E.N.E. or N.E. In the periods at the change of the monsoon (from N.E. to S.W. in April and May, and from S.W. to N.E. in October and November) the wind is variable, and may blow at times from E.S.E. or W.N.W.

The south-west wind (properly speaking W.S.W.) is identified, as we have seen with Tarai (Deria). Although Biliku (Puluga) is specially connected with the north-east wind, yet all the winds other than the south-west are commonly supposed to be sent by Biliku. Thus we have seen that in the A-Pučikwar tribe the different winds are named, each of them (with the exception of the south-west) being a Bilik.

It comes about, in this way, that the year is divided into two portions, one of which is specially connected with Biliku (Puluga), while the other is specially connected with Tarai (Deria). These two seasons are not quite of equal length. The Tarai season lasts only while the south-west monsoon is blowing, which, in an average year, is between four and five months. The other seven months are connected with Biliku and are divided into three portions, (1) the stormy season of October and November, (2) the cold season of December to February, and (3) the hot season of March and April.

There are many points relating to Biliku and Tarai about which there is no general agreement amongst the tribes, or, in some cases, even within the same tribe. In the North Andaman Biliku is regarded as female, and is called Mimi Biliku, while Tarai is male and is called Maia Tarai. This is so in all the four tribes, Aka-Čari, Aka-Bo, Aka-Ko̱ra and Aka-J̌eru. A statement that is frequently made by the natives of these tribes is that Tarai and Biliku are husband and wife. While this is the most common statement, there are, however, other versions of the matter. In order to show the lack of uniformity in statements about Biliku and Tarai in the Northern tribes I reproduce a few extracts from my note-books written down exactly as they were given to me.

(1) Biliku is the wife of Tarai and they have a child named Perǰido. (This statement was made to me a great many times in the North Andaman, and may be regarded as the most usual form of the belief.)

(2) Biliku is the wife of Tarai. Their children are the sun and moon. (Heard only once.)

(3) The husband of Biliku is Perǰido and her children are Totaimo, Mite (cicada) and Tarai.

(4) Biliku is unmarried, but she has a son Perǰido, and her other children are To̱ro̱i, Čelene, Čoto̱t, and Čerei. These four are the names of birds.

(5) Biliku is the wife of Tarai. Their children are To̱ro̱i, Taka, Čoto̱t, Poruato̱ko, Kelil, Co̱pcura, Benye, Biratkoro, Čereo, Milidu, Bobelo, Ko̱lo. These are all names of birds.

(6) Biliku has a husband To̱ro̱i (a bird). Tarai has a wife Kelil (a bird).

In the Aka-Kede tribe the most common statement, at any rate in the northern part of the tribe, is that Bilika is female, and that Tarai is male. One Aka-Kede man, from the southern part of the tribe said that Bilika was male.

In the Aka-Ko̱l and A-Pučikwar tribes Bilik is generally spoken of as being male, and Teriya is also male. Other versions from these tribes are as follows:—

(1) Bilik is female and Teriya is her husband. Their children are the winds, Čoliatum Bilik, Me̱tepur Bilik, and Wo̱ičo-l’arpat Bilik.

(2) There is a male Bilik and a female Bilik, who are husband and wife. Their children are Ko̱ičo̱r-to̱ŋ Bilik, Ko̱ičo Bilik, Jila Bilik, Me̱tepur Bilik, Rartear Bilik, and Teriya. These are the winds.

(3) Bilik is male. His wife is In Čaria, and their children are Kao (prawn) and Mo̱rua (the sky).

In the Akar-Bale tribe the most usual statement is that both Puluga and Daria are male, and this was apparently also the common belief of the Aka-Bea.

In the North Andaman the name Biliku is also the word for “spider,” but no meaning (save as the name of the mythical being) was discovered for the name Tarai. In the South and Middle Andaman no meaning was discovered, either for the name Bilik or Puluga, or for the name Teriya or Deria. Although this book does not deal with the Little Andaman, it is worth while to mention that there also the natives believe in a mythical person who lives in the north-east and sends the storms. This being is female and is named Öluga. The monitor lizard is also called öluga in the language of the Little Andaman. It is obvious, however, that the names Biliku, Puluga, Öluga are all of them different forms of the same word.

As we have already seen, it is Biliku and Tarai who send the winds. Tarai sends the south-west wind, which brings the rain. Biliku sends the other winds which bring either fine weather, or, at times, violent storms. One Akar-Bale account of the matter (literally translated as told to me) is as follows. “Once upon a time Puluga and Daria were great friends, but they quarrelled. Puluga said that he was the bigger (more important). Daria said that he was. So now they are always quarrelling. Puluga sends the wind for one period. Then Daria sends his wind.”

According to the statement of an Akar-Bale man, Puluga makes the wind by fanning with a very large kwar-toŋ leaf.

Rain and thunder and lightning that come with the south-west wind are believed to be due to Tarai. Storms that come during the season connected with Biliku are made by Biliku and are due to her anger. When a big storm comes the natives say “Biliku is angry.” Lightning is explained as being a fire-brand thrown by Biliku across the sky when she is angry, and thunder is said to be her voice growling. Another explanation of lightning is that it is a pearl-shell, called be in the North Andaman, thrown by Biliku, the bright flash of the mother-of-pearl being seen as it crosses the sky. Still another statement from the North Andaman is that Biliku makes the lightning by striking a pearl-shell (be) against a stone.

Although Biliku is generally mentioned when a native is asked about lightning, yet Tarai also wields the lightning and the thunder. On one occasion when I was talking to a native I referred to the thunder and lightning that were at the moment coming up from the south-west, making a remark to the effect that Biliku was getting angry about something, and was corrected by him with “No, that is Tarai.”

There are a certain number of actions that are believed by the natives to arouse the anger of Biliku (Puluga), and thereby cause storms. There are three of these that are of importance.

(1) Burning or melting bees’-wax.

(2) Killing a cicada, or making a noise, particularly a noise of cutting or banging wood, during the time that the cicada is “singing” in the morning and evening.

(3) The use of certain articles of food, of which the chief are the seeds of the Entada scandens, the pith of the Caryota sobolifera, two species of Dioscorea (yam), and certain edible roots, of which may be mentioned those called in Aka-J̌eru, labo, mikulu, ǰi and lo̱ito.

In this matter there is an entire unanimity of belief in all the tribes of the Great Andaman. All the natives agree in saying that any of these three actions causes the anger of Biliku or Puluga and so brings bad weather.

The natives do, as a matter of fact, melt all the bees’-wax they obtain, in order to purify it, and render it suitable for use in the various ways in which they employ it. Also they do make use of all the plants mentioned under (3) whenever they are in season. They give various explanations of this variance between their precepts and their actions. Some of my informants said that though these actions may bring rain and storms, yet they would rather submit to the bad weather than go without some of their most prized vegetable foods. Others again say that there is always a chance that Biliku may not notice that the plants have been disturbed, particularly if no fragments are left lying about the camp, and if, when taking the roots, the creepers are not disturbed. Another statement is that it is really only during the season of storms, called the Kimil season in Aka-J̌eru, that it is dangerous to eat these foods, that is, during the months of October and November. After this season has passed there is no longer any danger of violent storms and the foods in question may be freely eaten. Nevertheless the natives do eat these foods in the months of October and November.

Mr Man records the native beliefs about bees’-wax and the plants in question. “There is an idea current that if during the first half of the rainy season they eat the Caryota sobolifera, or pluck or eat the seeds of the Entada pursœtha, or gather yams or other edible roots, another deluge would be the consequence, for Puluga is supposed to require these for his own consumption at that period of the year; the restriction, however does not extend to the fallen seeds of the Entada pursœtha, which may be collected and eaten at any time with impunity. Another of the offences visited by Puluga with storms is the burning of bee’s wax, the smell of which is said to be peculiarly obnoxious to him. Owing to this belief it is a common practice secretly to burn wax when a person against whom they bear ill-will is engaged in fishing, hunting, or the like, the object being to spoil his sport and cause him as much discomfort as possible; hence arises the saying amongst them, when suddenly overtaken by a storm, that some one must be burning wax [78].”

It must be noted that it is not only the “burning,” but also the melting of bees’-wax that angers Puluga. As regards the plants mentioned by Mr Man none of these is available for food during the early part of the rainy season. At that time the yams are not formed, the pith of the Caryota palm is not ripe and is uneatable, and the only available seeds of the Entada would be those of the last season that had not fallen from the pods or that had lain on the ground without having germinated. Thus the prohibition as stated by Mr Man amounts to nothing. The subject will be discussed in a later chapter. It may be remarked, however, that it is a fact easily to be observed that the natives do regard the gathering of these vegetable foods during the later portion of the rainy season and during the first part of the cool season (i.e. from October to December), as being an action that may offend Biliku. I was myself able to observe this on several occasions, as when once, at the very end of the rainy season, I, not then knowing the belief, asked a native to cut for me one of the pods of the Entada as a botanical specimen, whereupon the native, after fulfilling my request, explained to me that there would probably be a storm next day as the result of our action.

In all the tribes of the Great Andaman I found a belief that Biliku or Puluga will be angry if anybody makes a noise, particularly a noise of chopping, breaking or banging wood, during the time the cicada is singing. The cicada “sings” as the natives call it, during the short interval between dawn and sunrise, and during that between sunset and darkness. It is at these times that no noise may be made. The Andamanese do observe this custom, and refrain from making any noise at such times. For instance, if a man were singing, he would cease until the cicada were silent again. In all the tribes I found that this prohibition was connected in the minds of the natives with Puluga, the reason of the custom being always explained to me by saying that any breach of it would infallibly bring bad weather. In the North Andaman the cicada (mite) is commonly spoken of as the “child” of Biliku, Biliku ot-tire.

Mr Man refers to this custom. In one place he says that the first parents of the Andamanese were told by Puluga “that, though they were to work in the wet months, they must not do so after sundown, because by doing so they would worry the butu, which are under Puluga’s special protection. Any noise, such as working (kopke) with an adze, would cause the butu’s head to ache, and that would be a serious matter. During the cold and dry seasons work may be carried on day and night, as the butu is then seldom seen, and cannot be disturbed [79].”

The butu here mentioned is the cicada. The prohibition is not, however, as Mr Man says, against working, but against making a noise. Nor does the prohibition against noise extend to the whole night, but only to the short interval between sunset and darkness, for it is during this interval that the cicada is singing. As soon as the cicada is silent you may make as much noise as you please.

Another reference by Mr Man to the same custom is as follows: “Between dawn and sunrise they will do no work, save what is noiseless, lest the sun should be offended and cause an eclipse, storm, or other misfortune to overtake them. If, therefore, they have occasion to start on a journey or hunting expedition at so early an hour, they proceed as quietly as possible, and refrain from the practice, observed at other times of the day, of testing the strength of their bow-strings, as the snapping noise caused thereby is one of those to which the sun objects [80].”

This is really the same prohibition as that already mentioned, against making a noise when the cicada is singing. The interesting point, which will be discussed in a later chapter, is that Mr Man’s informant associated the prohibition not with Puluga, but with the sun. All the natives with whom I talked on the matter said that they would make no noise at such a time for fear of offending the cicada, and therefore Puluga or Biliku, and so bringing a storm.

As regards the prohibition against killing the cicada, this seems to refer only to the imago. So far as I was able to observe, the natives do carefully avoid killing the cicada in its full-grown form. On the other hand the grub of the cicada is regularly killed and eaten, being regarded as a delicacy. It is only eaten during the months of October and November.

In connection with the cicada, and with the weather, there is a rite which was described to me, but which I did not see performed. According to the account given of this rite, which is called “killing the cicada,” its purpose is to produce fine weather. It takes place in December, at the end of the season during which they eat the grub. When the time agreed upon for the performance of the ceremony arrives, all the members of the community are careful to be in the camp before sunset. As soon as the sun sets and the cicadæ begin their shrill cry, all the men, women and children present begin to make as much noise as they possibly can, by banging on the sounding-board, striking the ground with bamboos, beating pieces of wood together, or hammering on the sides of canoes, while at the same time shouting. They continue the noise, which entirely drowns that of the cicada, until after darkness has fallen. The rite may be performed, I believe, two or more times, on successive evenings. My informant explained the rite by saying that the natives have been eating the cicada, and the rite is intended to “kill” those that are left. After the rite the cicada disappears and is not seen or heard for some weeks, and there follow four months of fine weather with little rain.

The beliefs relating to bees’-wax, to the various edible roots, and to the cicada, are the same in all the Great Andaman tribes, and are by far the most important of those connected with Biliku. In the North Andaman Biliku is supposed to be angry if any one kills a biliku (spider), a reo (a species of insect making a noise like a cicada, during the daytime, which I often heard, but never saw), or a čatlo (a species of beetle). There is also a bird, which I was not able to identify, called to̱ro̱i, which belongs to Biliku and may not be killed.

In the A-Pučikwar tribe it is said that two species of fish, called unakoro and liwat belong to Bilik and may not be killed. A mollusc, called towa, also belongs to Bilik, and is for that reason never eaten. A bird called Bilik-l’ar-dala (probably the same bird that is called to̱ro̱i in the North Andaman) may not be killed.

In the Akar-Bale tribe I was told that two kinds of wood, bukura and worago, must not be used for firewood, for fear of offending Puluga, to whom they belong. Bukura is a species of Diospyros (ebony).

The only punishment that Biliku ever inflicts on human beings when she is angry with them for any reason, is to send violent storms. The way to stop a storm seems to be to frighten Biliku. One means of doing this is to throw the leaves of the Mimusops littoralis in the fire. These leaves explode with the heating of the juices and make a crackling or popping noise, which it is said that Biliku dislikes. I believe, however, that if any one were thus to burn Mimusops leaves during fine weather, it would be regarded as likely to cause a storm. The most efficacious means of stopping a storm is to do some of the things that Biliku most dislikes. To burn bees’-wax, or to go into the jungle and damage or destroy the creepers that belong to her, these are the heroic remedies against Biliku’s anger.

The question of the Andamanese beliefs about storms is complicated by the fact that although all storms are said to be made by Puluga or Biliku, yet there is an alternative and contradictory belief that storms are made by the spirits of the sea (J̌urua). It is said that if a piece of the Anadendron paniculatum creeper were to be burnt there would be a great cyclone, but this appears to be associated, not with Biliku, but with the spirits of the sea. It will be shown later that there is a special connection between the J̌urua and this plant. The belief that a storm will arise if turtle fat be allowed to burn in the fire seems also to be connected with the J̌urua and not with Biliku. The same is probably the case with a belief that rain will come if a Ficus laccifera tree be damaged.

Some of the methods used to stop storms are also probably connected with the spirits and not with Biliku. One such method is to go into the sea and swish arrows about in the water. One oko-ǰumu (medicine-man) of the North Andaman is reputed to have stopped a big cyclone by taking a few pieces of Anadendron paniculatum and crushing them, and then diving into the sea and placing the crushed creeper under a stone. An oko-ǰumu who died while I was in the islands is supposed to have been able to stop a storm by similarly placing leaves and twigs of the Ficus laccifera (reŋko) under a rock in the sea.

To complete the account of this part of the Andamanese beliefs it is necessary to quote what Mr Man writes about the tribes of the South Andaman. Mr Man describes Puluga as a “Supreme Being” and says that some of the beliefs of the Andamanese relating to him “approximate closely to the true faith concerning the Deity.” Mr Portman, following Mr Man, in this as in many other matters, translates the name Puluga by the English word “God.” Mr Man’s statements are as follows:—

“Of Puluga they say that—

“I. Though His appearance is like fire, yet He is (nowadays) invisible.

“II. He was never born and is immortal.

“III. By him the world and all objects, animate and inanimate were created, excepting only the powers of evil.

“IV. He is regarded as omniscient while it is day, knowing even the thoughts of their hearts.

“V. He is angered by the commission of certain sins, while to those in pain or distress he is pitiful, and sometimes deigns to afford relief.

“VI. He is the Judge from whom each soul receives its sentence after death, and to some extent, the hope of escape from the torments of J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu is said to affect their course of action in the present life.

“Puluga is believed to live in a large stone house in the sky, with a wife whom he created for himself: she is green in appearance and has two names, Čana Aulola (Mother Fresh-water Shrimp), and Čana Palak (Mother Eel); by her he has a large family, all, except the eldest, being girls; these last, known as morowin (sky spirits or angels), are said to be black in appearance, and, with their mother, amuse themselves from time to time by throwing fish and prawns into the streams and sea for the use of the inhabitants of the world. Puluga’s son is called Piǰčor: he is regarded as a sort of archangel, and is alone permitted to live with his father, whose orders it is his duty to make known to the morowin.

“Puluga is said to eat and drink, and, during the dry months of the year, to pass much of his time in sleep, as is proved by his voice (thunder) being rarely heard at that season; he is the source whence they receive all their supplies of animals, birds, and turtles; when they anger him he comes out of his house and blows, and growls, and hurls burning faggots at them—in other words, visits their offences with violent thunderstorms and heavy squalls; except for this purpose he seldom leaves home, unless it be during the rains, when he descends to earth to provide himself with certain kinds of food; how often this happens they do not know since, nowadays, he is invisible [81].”

Mr Man’s comparison between the Andamanese belief in Puluga and the Christian belief in a God, will be discussed in a later chapter when we come to deal with the interpretation of the Andamanese beliefs. It is to be noted that Mr Man does not make any reference to Deria (Tarai), nor does he mention the association of Puluga with the north-east.

As regards the personal appearance of Puluga, the statements of different informants are not in agreement. One A-Pučikwar man described Bilik as being very big, about the height of one of the posts of my hut (which was eighteen feet), white-skinned like a European, having a long beard, and carrying a bow of the J̌a̤rawa type.

The legends connecting Puluga with the creation of the world will be given in the next chapter.

I am not able to confirm Mr Man’s statement that Puluga is omniscient, and in fact there are some customs of the natives that are in contradiction with any such belief. When they dig up yams (which belong to Puluga) they take the tuber and replace the “crown” with the attached stem in the ground, and explain this by saying that if they do so Puluga will not notice that the yam has been taken. Whenever they do any of the things that displease Puluga, they seem to believe that there is a possibility that Puluga may not discover what has been done. It may be noted that there is no means of distinguishing in Andamanese between “all” and “a great deal.” Thus a statement the Puluga knows “everything” may be equally well translated “Puluga knows a great deal.” Between these two statements there is no difference for the Andamanese, but there is a great difference for us, and for this reason the use of the word “omniscient” is misleading.

Mr Man says that Puluga “is angered by the commission of certain sins.” In this connection it is necessary to refer to another passage in Mr Man’s work. “That they are not entirely devoid of moral consciousness may, I think, in some measure, be demonstrated by the fact of their possessing a word, yub-da, signifying sin or wrong-doing, which is used in connection with falsehood, theft, grave assault, murder, adultery, and—burning wax (!), which deeds are believed to anger Puluga-la, the Creator [82].” Although I made very careful and repeated enquiries, I was unable to meet with a single native who believed that such actions as the murder of one man by another, or adultery, aroused the anger of Puluga. The only actions at which Puluga is angry are those purely ritual offences, such as burning or melting wax, killing a cicada, digging up yams, etc., which have already been mentioned.

The Andamanese beliefs connected with the life after death will be described later in the present chapter.

As regards the “stone house” in which Puluga is said to live, this really means, I believe, a cave. In the North Andaman Biliku is frequently spoken of as living in a cave (e̱ra-poŋ). Also, it may be recalled, the sky is generally regarded as consisting of stone or rock, and it is in the sky the Puluga lives.

The son of Puluga, mentioned by Mr Man, Piǰčor, is a being about whom I was able to learn very little. In the North Andaman the same being is named Perǰido, and is said to be the son of Biliku. The Morowin, whom Mr Man describes as the daughters of Puluga, are sky spirits. The most usual belief in the South Andaman is that there are both male and female Morowin. They are beings of somewhat the same nature as the jungle spirits and the sea spirits. An Akar-Bale informant told me, “The Morua are sky spirits. They eat only pork and nothing else. They are angry if pork is roasted, and make the people ill. They used to live in the big baǰa (Sterculia) trees, but now they live in the sky.”

In this connection it may be mentioned that there is a belief throughout the Andamans that it is dangerous to roast pork. In the North Andaman the natives commonly say that the spirits of the jungle are angry if pork be roasted, and may be attracted to the spot and cause the natives to be ill. An Akar-Bale belief, connecting the danger with the spirits of the sky has just been mentioned. Mr Man’s version of the matter is as follows:— “... there is a company of evil spirits who are called čol, and who are much dreaded. They are believed to be descendants of Maia Čol who lived in antediluvian times. They generally punish those who offend them by baking or roasting pig’s flesh, the smell of which is particularly obnoxious to them, as it is also to Puluga, who therefore, often assists them in discovering the delinquent; the same risk does not attend boiling pork, which the olfactory nerves of the fastidious čol are not keen enough to detect. While the Andamanese say that they are liable to be struck by E̱rem-čauga-la or J̌uruwin at any time or in any place, the čol strike those only who offend them, and that during the day while they are stationary, this being necessitated by the distance from the earth of their abode, whence they hurl their darts; an invisible spear is the weapon they always use, and this is thrown with unerring aim at the head of their victims, and is invariably fatal. As these demons are considered especially dangerous on the hottest days, they are apparently held accountable for the deaths from sunstroke which happen from time to time [83].”

It may be remarked that Čol is the name of a species of bird (probably the racket-tailed drongo), which is named from its call—čol, čol, čol. I did not hear the name used to denote what Mr Man calls demons, except in so far as the birds themselves are supposed to have supernatural powers. There is, perhaps, some sort of connection between the čol (the birds, that is) and the sky-spirits, Morowin or Morua, but I was not able to satisfy myself on the point. The connection of them both with Puluga is still more obscure.

Another belief in connection with pigs is that any person who cuts up a pig badly is liable to be punished. Mr Man states, on this subject, “Puluga never himself puts any one to death, but he objects so strongly to seeing a pig badly quartered and carved that he invariably points out those who offend him in this respect to a class of malevolent spirits called Čol, one of whom forthwith despatches the unfortunate individual [84].”

I was not able to find any evidence that Puluga is believed to be angry if a pig is badly quartered. From the natives with whom I talked on the subject I received two different statements. One was to the effect that if a pig is badly cut up the meat will be bad and anyone who eats it will be ill. The other was that if a pig is badly cut up the spirits of the jungle will be angry and will punish the offender. In neither case was there any reference to Puluga or Biliku.

In general it may be said that the natives believe that the only punishment that Puluga or Biliku ever sends against those who offend him or her in any way is bad weather, and I did not myself meet with any exception to this rule.

One other observation by Mr Man may be mentioned. He says, “When they see a dark cloud approaching at a time when rain would prove very inconvenient, as when hunting, travelling, etc., they advise Puluga to divert its course by shouting ‘Wara-J̌obo kopke, kopke, kopke’ (Wara-J̌obo will bite, bite, bite (you)). If in spite of this a shower falls they imagine that Puluga is undeterred by their warning [85].”

It is clear from the above discussion of the matter that there is not any complete agreement in the beliefs concerning Puluga (Biliku) even in any one tribe of the Andamans. There are many different statements about this being which cannot be made consistent with one another without doing violence to the evidence. At the same time, amid all the differences and inconsistencies there are a certain number of points about which there is a general agreement throughout the whole of the tribes of the Great Andaman. One of these is the connection of Puluga and Daria with the weather, with the two chief winds, and with the points of the compass from which these winds blow. The other is the belief that certain actions, such as melting bees’-wax, digging up yams, etc., are disliked by Puluga, and are punished by him (or her) with stormy weather. On these matters there is entire agreement amongst the natives of all the tribes, and they are to the natives themselves by far the most important part of the beliefs concerning Puluga.

We have seen that the Andamanese believe in two different kinds of what may be called, for want of a better term, supernatural beings. In the first place there are the spirits, the Lau or Čauga, and the J̌urua, inhabiting the forest and the sea respectively. These are all associated by the natives with ghosts, i.e. with the spirits of dead men and women. In the second place there are other beings connected with the sun and moon, lightning and thunder and the monsoons (Biliku and Tarai). These are all associated with the phenomena of nature. There are many points of contact between these two classes of beings. Thus there are two alternative explanations of bad weather, one that it is due to the spirits (particularly the spirits of the sea), the other that it is due to the anger of Biliku. This is a point that will be referred to again in a later chapter.

It is possible that there are beliefs in other supernatural beings who are neither spirits of the dead nor connected with natural phenomena. The only being of such a nature that I was able to discover anything about is one called Nila or Ńila. This is the name of an evil being who is supposed to live in hollow Pterocarpus trees. When he smells human beings near his tree he comes out and kills them with his knife. I found this belief in the A-Pučikwar tribe, but was not able to find any trace of a similar belief in the North Andaman, though of course I cannot say that it does not exist there. Mr Man mentions this same being. “This spirit Nila is supposed to live in ant-hills, and to have neither wife nor child; he is not regarded as such a malevolent personage as Erem-čauga-la, and, though he is always armed with a knife, he rarely injures human beings with it, or when he does so, it is not in order to feed upon their bodies, for he is said to eat earth only [86].” Mr Man adds, in a footnote that “cases have been cited of persons who have been found stabbed, whose deaths have been attributed to Nila: the possibility of the individuals in question having been murdered is scouted.”

The version given by Mr Man is not quite in agreement with the information given to me, but I was unfortunately not able to learn anything more about the nature of Nila.

As throwing some additional light on the way in which the Andamanese think of the supernatural beings that have been mentioned above, I add here a brief description of a sort of dramatic or pantomimic dance that I witnessed in the North Andaman. Many savage tribes in different parts of the world are in the habit of performing dances or pantomimes in which the performer represents a supernatural being. In the Andamans there are no regular performances of this kind. The solitary one that I witnessed was entirely exceptional.

The performer was a man named Kobo. This man, according to the statements of the natives, had, at one time of his life, died and come back to life again. Owing to this fact he was endowed with special magical powers, and had some reputation as a magician or medicine-man (oko-ǰumu). During the time that he was dead (probably a few hours of unconsciousness), he is supposed to have visited the world of spirits, and while there he saw many things and learnt much about the spirits. Among other things he witnessed a dance in which the spirits and other supernatural beings took part. All these things he was able to remember when he returned to life.

The performance was given one afternoon on the ordinary dancing ground of the village. The performer sat on his haunches in a hut at one end of the dancing ground. Thrust into the back of his belt he wore a bunch of leaves sticking out somewhat after the manner of a cock’s tail, but he had no other ornament. The spectators, consisting of men, women and children, were seated round the edge of the dancing ground, which had been swept clean. On one side sat a few women who acted as chorus. There was no sounding-board.

The performer began to sing a song, composed on the model of the songs of the South Andaman (with a short refrain) which has now for some years been adopted by the Northern tribes in preference to their own. As he finished the song the women of the chorus took up the refrain, repeating it over and over again, and marking time by clapping their hands on their thighs. The performer came out of his hut and performed a dance. At a signal from him the chorus ceased and he returned to his hut. In this way he sang several songs, repeating each one several times, and performed a number of short dances. In nearly every case the step of the dance was some simple modification of the step in common use at an ordinary dance. Thus in one dance he danced very violently and pretended to hurt his leg through the violence of his dancing, making angry signs to the chorus to stop their clapping, of which, of course, they took no notice. In another dance he stopped at short intervals and violently scratched his sides and then doubled himself up with laughter. In yet another, he danced with the step of the women’s dance, covering his face with his hands and pretending to be very bashful. In still another he stood on tiptoe on the right foot and stamped with his left foot in time to the chorus of women. In some of the dances he walked round the open space within the circle of spectators, sometimes in a crouching attitude, and at other times in other attitudes. All these dances aroused great amusement amongst the spectators. It was unfortunately impossible for me to understand them all or to obtain an adequate explanation of them either at the time or later.

Of the songs that were sung one was “The tide has gone down over the reef. I walk round the world. There is great wind and rain.”

Some of these dances I was able to understand even without explanation. One of them represented Biliku. The performer held in his right hand a shell, and as he danced grotesquely round the open space he looked fiercely at the spectators and threatened to throw the shell at them. Many of the women and children could not prevent themselves from starting backwards when he thus threatened them, but their fears were immediately dispelled in laughter. The shell was not a pearl-shell (be) but a Cyrena shell (bun), but I believe that this was because there was no pearl-shell available. The representation of Biliku was thus reduced to a single gesture, that of threatening the natives with her pearl-shell (lightning).

Another dance represented the jungle spirits (Bido-teč Lau). In this he first hid himself behind a screen of bido leaves (Calamus tigrinus) that had been prepared, singing a song. The leaves represented a clump of the Calamus palm such as is supposed to be the favourite haunt of the jungle spirits. After having sung for some time behind his screen of leaves, he came out with a bow and arrow in his hand, and as he danced in front of the spectators he pretended to shoot at them.

In another dance he represented Ele, the lightning. He sat on a stone that had been placed in the middle of the open space, swinging his arms to the time of the chorus, and every now and then shaking his leg.

This observation is an important one in several ways. Although I asked the man to repeat it, in order that I might make fuller notes and obtain explanations of many obscure points, and although he grudgingly said that he would, yet he did not do so. He was, moreover, very reserved over the matter, and not very willing to talk about his own performance.

I believe that the performance was an entirely exceptional affair. I never at any other time either saw or heard of one man or even several men, giving a dance for the amusement of others. I think that the whole thing was entirely the invention of the performer. He had given the same performance, or one very similar, at least once before the occasion on which I saw it.

We may now turn to the Andamanese beliefs relating to the soul and the life after death.

The vital principle is at different times identified by the Andamanese with the pulse, the breath, with the blood and with the fat, particularly the kidney-fat. Thus the body of a slain enemy is burnt so that the blood and fat may be consumed in smoke and ascend to the sky where they will no longer be a danger to those who have slain him.

The nearest approach to our notion of a soul that the natives possess is their belief concerning the double or reflection seen in a mirror. In the Northern tribes the word ot-ǰumulo means “reflection,” and also “shadow,” and is also nowadays applied to a photograph. The word ot-ǰumu, in the same languages, means “a dream” or “to dream.” We may perhaps translate the word ot-ǰumulo as meaning “soul.” In the Aka-Bea language ot-yolo is “reflection,” while there is a different word, ot-diya or ot-lere, for “shadow,” and neither of the words has any connection with the word “dream” which is taraba. Mr Man translates the word ot-yolo as “soul.”

The fact that the words for dream and reflection, double or shadow are from the same root in the Northern languages is of interest. Dreams are sometimes explained by saying that the sleeper’s double (ot-ǰumulo) has left his body and is wandering elsewhere. Dreams are regarded as being veridical, or at any rate, as having importance. One man told me how, in a dream the night before, his ot-ǰumulo had travelled from where we were to his own country and had there seen the death of the baby of a woman of his own tribe. He was fully convinced that the baby must really have died.

An Andamanese will never, or only with the very greatest reluctance, awaken another from sleep. One explanation of this that was given to me was that the ot-ǰumulo or double of the sleeper may be wandering far from his body, and to waken him suddenly might cause him to be ill.

The principle on which dreams are interpreted is a very simple one. All unpleasant dreams are bad, all pleasant ones are good. The natives believe that sickness is often caused by dreams. A man in the early stages of an attack of fever, for instance, may have a bad dream. When the fever develops he explains it as due to the dream. If a man has a painful dream he will often not venture out of the camp the following day, but will stay at home until the effect has worn off. The natives believe that they can communicate in dreams with the spirits, but the power to do this regularly is the privilege of certain special individuals, known as oko-ǰumu (dreamers). However, an ordinary individual may occasionally have dreams of this kind.

I found that any attempt to study the dreams of such a people as the Andamanese is made very difficult by the fact that it is never possible to tell how far the original dream has been arranged and altered by the waking imagination. So far as my observations went the majority of dreams are either visual or motor, or both. Further reference to dreams will be made later in connection with magic.

When a man or woman dies the double (or as some of the natives explain it, the breath) leaves the body and becomes a spirit (lau or čauga). By death a man ceases to exist as a man, and begins a new existence as a spirit.

Whenever I asked the natives whence came the spirits of the jungle and the sea I received the answer that they are the spirits of dead men and women. On the other hand, when I put in another form what might seem to be the same question, and asked what became of a man’s spirit after his death, I received many different and inconsistent answers. As it would take too much space to transcribe every answer that I received to this question, a number of typical ones are selected. Any attempt to reconcile the statements of different men or of the same men on different occasions can only produce a false impression of the real condition of the native beliefs, and therefore the statements are kept separate, and each one is given as it was taken down.

The first is from the Northern tribes. Exactly similar statements were made to me by men of several tribes. “When a man dies he becomes a Lau and wanders about the jungle. At first he keeps near the grave or the place where he died, but after a while he finds that is no good, and so he goes to live with the other spirits. If he is drowned he becomes a J̌urua.” A second account, varying from the above in only one particular, is also from one of the Northern tribes (Aka-Čari). “When a man dies he becomes a Lau or a J̌urua and lives with the other spirits. If he be a jungle-dweller he becomes a Lau and lives in the jungle. If he be a coast-dweller he becomes a J̌urua and lives in the sea. All the Aka-Čari become J̌urua when they die. The spirit stays in his own country. The spirits of a man’s own country (whether Lau or J̌urua) are friendly to him, but those of another country are dangerous and will make him ill.”

An entirely different statement frequently made to me by men of the Northern tribes is that when a man dies the spirit (Lau) either immediately, or after the lapse of some time, goes to another world that lies under this one and is called Maramiku. This world of spirits is said to be just like the actual world, with forest and sea, and all the familiar animal and vegetable species. The inhabitants spend their time just as the Andamanese do on earth, hunting, fishing and dancing.

Still another statement that is commonly made in the North is that the spirits of the dead go to live in the sky. Two such statements are as follows: “When a man dies his ot-ǰumulo (double) goes up to the sky and becomes a Lau (spirit).” “A man’s spirit wanders in the jungle till the flesh has rotted from the bones, and then goes away to the sky.” Other statements were very similar to these two.

Turning now to the Southern tribes, one informant of the A-Pučikwar tribe gave me the following account: “When a man or woman dies the spirit goes away to the east or north-east and goes over the edge of the world, remaining in a place called Lau-l’uŋ-ciŋ (Spirit’s House) where there is a large hut in a jungle similar to that on earth. There they live just as men do on earth, hunting and fishing, and so on. Beyond the home of the spirits is Puta-ko̱iča, the home of the sun and moon. The rainbow is the path by which the spirits come to visit their friends on earth, which they do in dreams. The rainbow is made of canes (? a cane).”

Another version from the same tribe was to the effect that after death the spirits of the dead go to live in the sky with a mythical being named Tomo. This Tomo, according to some of the legends, was the first ancestor of the Andamanese. By one of my best informants he was identified to some extent with the sun, and consequently with light and with fine weather. This man stated that in the world of the spirits it is never night as Tomo is always there. The spirits always have plenty of pork and turtle, and spend their time dancing and enjoying themselves.

One old man of the A-Pučikwar tribe, who had some reputation as a medicine-man, said that the spirits of medicine-men lived apart from the spirits of ordinary men and women, and are called not Lau but Bilik. He told me how he had been visited in a dream by Bo̱ičo Bilik; that is by the spirit of one Bo̱ičo who had, when he lived, been a great medicine-man, and who, now that he was dead, had become a Bilik, as distinguished from an ordinary Lau. It is the Bilik who control the weather. They can also cause or cure sickness in living men. The Bo̱ičo mentioned above was alive when my informant was a young man.

In the Akar-Bale tribe one man told me that the breath (ig-peti) of a dying person goes up to the sky and becomes a spirit. Another belief of the same tribe is that the spirits of the dead go to J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu, which is under the earth. From the same tribe comes the following account: “When a man or woman dies, the spirit first of all goes southward to the country of the Aka-Bea, and then returns to Gudna-l’ar-boŋ in Kuaičo-bur (in the Akar-Bale country). It then goes to J̌ila-buaro in J̌ila (East Island) and from there to Kere-tuaur. The inhabitants of the last-named place are warned of the approach of the spirit by the cries of the birds tao (Eudynamis honorata, Indian koel or brain-fever bird) and bil (Australian goggle-eyed plover). At one time the people of Luŋ-tauar used to catch the spirits in big nets made for the purpose. They were taught to do this by a wise woman named In Golat. The spirits try to run away, but they get caught at the place called Guamo-leber. The people then throw them into the sea, and they (the spirits) then go to Čauga-l’uŋ-jiŋa (Spirit’s Home) and remain there.” The above is given exactly as it was translated to me by an Akar-Bale man who knew English and who acted as my interpreter on the occasion. There is much in it that I do not understand and that my questions failed to elucidate. It is given as an example of the nature of some of the more obscure of the Andamanese beliefs. To understand fully many of their statements on this and other matters would need a more complete knowledge of the language than I possessed, and a longer time than I was able to give.

The various examples given above are sufficient to show the general nature of the Andamanese beliefs. In every tribe there are alternative and inconsistent beliefs as to the place where spirits go, which by different accounts is in the sky, beneath the earth, out to the east where the sun and moon take their rise, or in the jungle and sea of their own country. One thing is clear, that the Andamanese ideas on the subject are floating and lacking in precision. There is no fixity or unanimity of belief amongst them.

To these various accounts from the natives themselves, must be added the description of the beliefs of the Aka-Bea tribe as recorded by Mr Man. This may best be given in the writer’s own words. “The world, exclusive of the sea, is declared to be flat and to rest on an immense palm-tree (Caryota sobolifera) called barata, which stands in the midst of a jungle comprising the whole area under the earth. This jungle, čaitan (Hades) is a gloomy place, for, though visited in turn by the sun and moon, it can, in consequence of its situation, be only partially lighted: it is hither the spirits (čauga) of the departed are sent by Puluga to await the Resurrection.

“No change takes place in čaitan in respect to growth or age; all remain as they were at the time of their departure from the earth, and the adults are represented as engaged in hunting, after a manner peculiar to disembodied spirits. In order to furnish them with sport the spirits of animals and birds are also sent to čaitan, but as there is no sea there, the čauga of fish and turtle remain in their native element and are preyed upon by ǰuruwin. The spirits (čauga) and souls (ot-yolo) of all children who die before they cease to be entirely dependent on their parents (i.e. under six years of age) go to čaitan, and are placed under a rau tree (Ficus laccifera) on the fruit of which they subsist. As none can quit čaitan who have once entered, they support their stories regarding it by a tradition that in ages long past an oko-paiad was favoured in a dream with a vision of the regions and of the pursuits of the disembodied spirits.

“Between the earth and the eastern sky there stretches an invisible cane bridge (pidga-l’ar-čauga) which steadies the former and connects it with ǰereg (paradise); over this bridge the souls (ot-yolo) of the departed pass into paradise, or to ǰereg-l’ar-mugu, which is situated below it: this latter place might be described as purgatory, for it is a place of punishment for those who have been guilty of heinous sins, such as murder. Like Dante, they depict it as very cold, and therefore a most undesirable region for mortals to inhabit. From all this it will be gathered that these despised savages believe in a future state, in the resurrection, and in the threefold constitution of man.

“In serious illness the sufferer’s spirit (čauga) is said to be hovering between this world and Hades, but does not remain permanently in the latter place until some time after death, during which interval it haunts the abode of the deceased and the spot where the remains have been deposited. In dreams it is the soul which, having taken its departure through the nostrils, sees or is engaged in the manner represented to the sleeper.

“The Andamanese do not regard their shadows but their reflections (in any mirror) as their souls. The colour of the soul is said to be red, and that of the spirit black, and, though invisible to human eyes, they partake of the form of the person to whom they belong. Evil emanates from the soul, and all good from the spirit; at the resurrection they will be re-united and live permanently on the new earth, for the souls of the wicked will then have been reformed by the punishments inflicted on them during their residence in ǰereg-l’ar-mugu.

“The future life will be but a repetition of the present, but all will then remain in the prime of life, sickness and death will be unknown, and there will be no more marrying or giving in marriage. The animals, birds, and fish will also re-appear in the new world in their present form.

“This blissful state will be inaugurated by a great earthquake, which, occurring by Puluga’s command, will break the pidga-l’ar-čauga and cause the earth to turn over: all alive at the time will perish, exchanging places with their deceased ancestors [87].”

This account given by Mr Man, must, I think, be received with great caution. To one who has talked to the Andamanese on these subjects it seems probable that Mr Man has here combined into a single consistent version, a number of independent statements, which, as the natives believe them, are not parts of an organised doctrine, but are separate from and often inconsistent with each other. Added to this there is the fact that Mr Man has so written down the native beliefs as to bring out the greatest possible degree of resemblance to the Christian mythology. This is clear from his use of the words Hades, paradise, etc. Allowance must therefore be made for the fact that Mr Man evidently found some pleasure in tracing analogies between the mythology of the Andamanese and the Christian doctrines.

Owing to the importance attaching to all Mr Man’s statements it is necessary to examine critically the account transcribed above. We may begin with what is said of the doctrine of the threefold nature of man. By this it would seem to be meant that man is regarded as composed of body, soul and spirit. It is quite certain that the Andamanese mean different things by the words ot-yolo (reflection) here translated “soul,” and čauga translated “spirit.” The difference is this, that a man, while he is still alive, has a “double” or “soul” if the latter word be preferred, while when he is dead he becomes a spirit. Thus the spirit is not a part of a man while he is alive. The word čauga (or lau) is simply the name of a particular class of beings which includes all dead men and women. The bones of a man become “spirit-bones” (čauga-ta) when he dies, just as he becomes a spirit. To compare the Andamanese belief with the Christian doctrine that each man possesses, while he is alive, both a soul and a spirit, these being different things, is therefore misleading. For this reason it is perhaps unfortunate to translate the Andamanese čauga as meaning spirit, but there does not seem to be any other convenient English word.

Mr Man’s account would seem to imply that the native belief is that at death the soul (reflection) of a man goes to one place (J̌ereg or J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu) while his spirit goes elsewhere (to Čaitan). In the case of children however, Mr Man makes a difference, for both the souls and spirits of children go to Čaitan. Mr Man compares Čaitan to Hades, J̌ereg to paradise and J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu to purgatory.

I do not think that the Andamanese have any such complicated doctrine as this. It seems to me almost certain that Mr Man has received from the natives several different statements, similar to some of those given earlier, and that he has combined and reconciled them as well as he could. Some of his informants, apparently, described the world after death as being beneath the earth, and gave the name of it as Čaitan [88]. Other informants seem to have spoken of [vJ]ereg or J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu. I think it improbable that any one native should have stated, as Mr Man’s account would seem to imply, that the soul of a dead man goes to one place, while the man himself (now a spirit) goes somewhere else. Mr Man’s description of Čaitan corresponds almost exactly to the descriptions given to me by the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar of J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu, and to the descriptions of Maramiku given by the Northern tribes. If Čaitan be really an Aka-Bea word, it would seem to be only another name for J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu.

One of the most important points in Mr Man’s statement is that while the souls of good men go to paradise as he puts it, the souls of bad men are condemned to torture in purgatory [89]. In my own enquiries I did not come across any definite belief of this nature, but I am not prepared to deny its existence. All that I can say is that I did not find any evidence whatever that good men and bad men (in any meanings in which those words could be used by the natives) receive different treatment after death. In talking to men of the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar tribes I did not hear of J̌ereg as a distinct place from J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu. The latter name is of course a compound, from ar-mugu = front, and might mean either “the place fronting or facing J̌ereg” or “the place J̌ereg, fronting us.”

Mr Man states that the souls and spirits of young children go to Čaitan where they subsist on the fruit of a rau tree (Ficus laccifera). In the North Andaman I found a belief that the souls of children, before they are born, live in the Ficus trees, but these are the real trees on earth that are in question, and not a mythical tree in the next world. It is commonly believed that if a baby dies the soul enters the mother again and is born a second time. It is possible that what Mr Man relates as to the souls of children after death living in a Ficus tree in Čaitan may really refer to real fig trees on earth.

As regards the resurrection spoken of by Mr Man, I was also so unfortunate as to obtain no information. As will be shown in a later chapter, there are several myths of the world coming to an end and starting afresh, and these myths are generally associated with Puluga or Biliku. All the versions that I heard, however, referred to the past and not to the future [90].

The Andamanese speak of unconsciousness as “death,” and regard a person who has been unconscious for some time as having been dead and returned to life again. I was once told that an old man in the village was “dead” and found him in a state of coma from which he recovered and lived for several days. There are stories of persons having returned to life even after they have been buried. One such tale was told me in the North Andaman. A man died and was buried. As his friends and relatives, after packing up their belongings, were leaving the camp in their canoes, the man’s voice was heard calling. His wife and mother turned back and met him and took him in their canoe. He lived for some time after this and then he died and was buried again. Again the same thing happened, the dead man re-appearing just as they were setting off in their canoes from the camp that they were deserting on account of his death. Finally the man died a third time. When he was buried this time the men dug a very deep hole some distance from the camp, and then hurried back to the camp and hastily gathered up their belongings and left it. Nothing more was seen of the dead man, but when, after the lapse of some months, they went to dig up the bones, they found the mat and leaves and rope in which the corpse had been bound, but there were no bones.

Amongst the coast-dwellers of the North Andaman I found a belief that the soul of a dying man goes out with the ebbing tide.

There are, amongst the Andamanese, certain individuals who are distinguished from their fellows by the supposed possession of supernatural powers. These specially favoured persons correspond, to some degree, with the medicine-men, magicians or shamans of other primitive societies. The name for these medicine-men in the North Andaman is oko-ǰumu, meaning literally “dreamer” or “one who speaks from dreams” from a stem -ǰumu the primary meaning of which refers to the phenomena of dreams. In Aka-Bea the corresponding term is oko-paiad, and according to Mr Man, this term also means “dreamer.” Mr Portman, however, gives taraba as the Aka-Bea word for “dream” or “to dream.”

According to a statement by Mr Man, only men can possess the powers that entitle them to be regarded as oko-paiad [91]. The natives whom I questioned told me that a woman may possess the same powers, though it is more usual for men to become famous in this way than women. There is no very clear dividing line between those who are oko-ǰumu or oko-paiad and those who are not; one person may possess the powers in only a slight degree, so as scarcely to differentiate him from others, while another may be much more highly gifted.

At the present time it is no longer possible to obtain full and satisfactory information on this subject. Most of the old oko-ǰumu and oko-paiad are now dead. Amongst the younger men there are a few who pretend to the position, but the recent intercourse with foreigners has produced a degree of scepticism in such matters that makes it difficult or nearly impossible to obtain any reliable information as to the former beliefs from any but the very old men. To this difficulty must be added that in talking to some of the very few old men who could have given more valuable information I had to make use of an interpreter, and though they might have been willing to confide to me some of the secrets of their profession they would not do so before a younger man of their own race.

The powers of a dreamer, supernatural as they are, can only be acquired by supernatural means, through contact in one way or another with the spirits (i.e. the Lau or Čauga). One way of coming into contact with the spirits is by death. If a man should, as the natives put it, die and then come back to life again, he is, by that adventure, endowed with the power that makes a medicine-man. One man of the Aka-Ko̱ra tribe was pointed out to me as having obtained his powers in this way. It would seem that during a serious illness he was unconscious for some twelve hours or so, and his friends thought that he was dead. A medicine-man whom I met with in the A-Pučikwar tribe was said to have died and come to life again three times. Another man, whom I did not meet, was described to me as a great oko-ǰumu, and from the description given it seemed to me that he was subject to epileptic fits. As against this, however, Mr Man states that “epilepsy is a recognised form of malady, but the fits are not regarded in a superstitious light [92].”

Another way in which a man can acquire magical powers is by direct communication with the spirits. A man who died a few years ago was believed by the natives to have once met with some spirits in the jungle, and to have acquired in this way the powers of an oko-ǰumu. He used to go off into the jungle by himself at intervals and hold communication with the spirits with whom he had made friends. From such a visit he had returned with his head decorated with shredded palm-leaf fibre (ko̱ro) which had, so he said, been placed on him by the spirits. This man had a reputation as a powerful oko-ǰumu.

In a less degree the powers of an oko-ǰumu may be obtained through dreams. It is believed that certain men have the power of communicating with the spirits in dreams, and such men are oko-ǰumu. If a man or boy experiences dreams that are in any way extraordinary, particularly if, in his dreams he sees spirits, either the spirits of dead persons known to him when alive, or spirits of the forest or the sea, he may acquire in time the reputation of a medicine-man.

A man may claim some degree of magical power, and yet his claims may not be recognized by others. Each oko-ǰumu has to make his own reputation, and to sustain it when made. This he can only do by demonstrating his power to others. Once this reputation is his, he not only receives the respect of others but also makes a considerable personal profit. Every one is anxious to be on good terms with one who is believed to have extraordinary powers. Hence a man who is an acknowledged oko-ǰumu is sure to receive a good share of the game caught by others, and presents of all kinds from those who seek his good-will.

As the name implies, and in whatever way his power may have been obtained, an oko-ǰumu is privileged to dream in a way that less favoured persons do not. In his dreams he can communicate with the spirits of the dead. In dreams, also, so the natives say, he is able to cause the illness of an enemy or to cure that of a friend.

By his communication with the spirits, in dreams, or in waking life, the oko-ǰumu acquires magical knowledge that he is able to turn to account in curing illness and in preventing bad weather. When a person is ill the oko-ǰumu is often consulted as to the best means of treating the patient. His treatment is often limited to the recommendation, or the application, of some one or other of the recognized remedies. He may undertake to dispel the spirits that are supposed to be the cause of the disease, which he does by addressing them and conjuring them to go away, or by the use of one or other of the substances and objects that are believed to have the power of keeping spirits at a distance. Sometimes the oko-ǰumu will promise to cure the patient by means of dreams. It is believed that in his dreams he can communicate with the spirits and can persuade them to help him to cure the sick person.

Besides their power of causing or curing sickness, the oko-ǰumu are credited with being able to control the weather. As has been shown, the Andamanese believe that the weather is under the control of two beings named Biliku and Tarai. There is, however, an alternative and contradictory belief, which is also held, that the weather is controlled by the spirits, and particularly by those of the sea. The means taken by magicians or others to prevent bad weather can be divided into two kinds according as they are directed against Biliku or Tarai, or against the spirits of the sea. As an example of the very simple rites which are performed for this purpose, two cases may be quoted. One of the oko-ǰumu of the Northern tribes, now dead, once stopped a very violent storm by crushing between two stones a piece of the Anadendron paniculatum and diving with it into the sea where he placed it under a rock on the reef. A more recent example is very similar. A man still living, named J̌ire Pilečar, who was, in a way, the successor of the man formerly mentioned, is said to have stopped a violent storm by using the leaves and bark of the Ficus laccifera in the same way, that is by crushing them and placing them under a rock in the sea. In both these cases it would seem that the rite was directed not against Biliku and Tarai, but against the J̌urua.

Apart from his power to communicate directly with the spirits, the oko-ǰumu owes his position to a superior knowledge of the magical properties of common substances and objects. This knowledge he is supposed to obtain from the spirits. However, a lesser degree of knowledge on such matters is possessed by everybody. Thus in the treatment of sickness there are a number of magical remedies of which anyone can make use without consulting an oko-ǰumu.

A complete enumeration of all the things that are believed to possess magical properties is, of course, not possible, but the following notes refer to all the most important.

We may consider first of all the magical properties of mineral substances. One of the most important of these is red ochre. Yellow ochre, which is found in pockets in many parts of the islands, is collected and burnt, when it turns red, and the powder so obtained is either used by itself or is made into a paint with pig or turtle fat. The powder is mixed with water and taken internally. Red paint is applied to the throat and chest for coughs and colds and sore throats, and round the ear for ear-ache. When a man feels unwell he often smears red paint on his upper lip just below his nostrils. In this way, the natives say, the “smell” of the paint cures his sickness. The paint is sometimes used as a dressing for wounds or centipede bites. Its use for ornamenting the body on ceremonial occasions has already been noted in the last chapter.

In the North Andaman a soft red stone is found, called talar. This is used as a substitute for red paint. It is rubbed on the body, or it is powdered and the powder is mixed with water and taken internally.

White clay (to̱l-odu in Aka-J̌eru) is sometimes used medicinally, both externally and internally. The commoner clay (odu in Aka-J̌eru) is plastered on sores, and has the effect of keeping off flies, if it does nothing else.

An olive-coloured earth (called čulŋa in Aka-Bea), found in certain springs, is prized as a remedy. It is mixed with water and taken internally as a general remedy for all sorts of complaints.

Turning now to the magical properties of vegetable substances, there are a large number of these, and some of them have not been botanically identified.

The Anadendron paniculatum is a plant from which the Andamanese obtain a valuable fibre, which they use for their bow-strings, and for thread with which to make their arrows and harpoons. A number of magical properties are attributed to this plant. Rheumatism is supposed to be due to the “smell” of the plant getting into the system when the fibre is being prepared [93]. The “smell” of the green plant, or of the fibre until it has been thoroughly dried for some days, is believed to frighten away turtle. A man who has been preparing the fibre would not dream of joining a turtle-hunting expedition, for his presence in the canoe would be sufficient to drive away all the turtle. A turtle-hunting expedition would be a failure if a piece of the green creeper were in the canoe. A man who has been handling the plant may not cook turtle, for the meat would be “bad,” i.e., uneatable. The same thing would happen if turtle meat accidentally came in contact with a piece of the plant. All this applies only to the green creeper, and not to the fibre after it has been properly prepared and dried. The fibre itself is used for binding the heads of turtle-harpoons, so it is evidently regarded as harmless.

If a piece of the Anadendron creeper were burnt in the fire the natives believe that it would drive all the turtle away from the neighbourhood, or, according to another statement, that there would be a great storm.

So far we have considered the properties of the plant only in so far as they make it dangerous to handle. It has other and beneficial properties. It is said that a man swimming in waters infested with sharks would be safe from them if he had a piece of the Anadendron creeper with him, in his belt or necklace. The creeper is also supposed to preserve anyone who carries it from the attacks of the sea spirits (J̌urua).

The Hibiscus tiliaceus is a small tree from which the natives obtain the fibre which they make into rope, used now for harpoon lines and in former times for turtle-nets. The leaves of this tree are believed to have the power of keeping away the spirits of the sea. They have no efficacy, however, against the spirits of the forest. Leaves of the Hibiscus tiliaceus are used in the turtle-eating ceremony described in the last chapter. For cooking turtle the only wood that may be used is the Hibiscus. If any other wood were used the meat would not be good. In this connection it is necessary to point out an error in the statements of Mr Man. He says that the wood of the alaba must never be used for cooking turtle, though it may be used for cooking pig, and that Puluga is angry if this commandment is not observed and sends either the sun or moon to punish the offender [94]. There is evidently an error here. The alaba is the Hibiscus tiliaceus. Mr Man identifies it with the Melochia velutina, but this is an error. Now the custom in connection with the Hibiscus (alaba) is not that it may not be used for cooking turtle, but that no other kind of wood must be used. It is difficult to see how Mr Man fell into the error, unless he mistook a statement regarding the yo̱lba (Anadendron paniculatum) for a statement relating to alaba (Hibiscus tiliaceus). We have just seen that if the Anadendron comes in contact with turtle meat the meat will be bad, and that if it is burnt there will be a storm.

Another plant that provides fibre for thread is the Gnetum edule. There is a belief that the green creeper of this plant will drive away turtle, if a piece of it be taken in a canoe.

Magical properties are attributed to the Ficus laccifera tree. These trees are believed to be the home of the yet unborn souls of children. I was told in the North Andaman that if a tree of the species were cut there would be a storm. The bark of the aerial roots of the tree affords a fibre used in the Little Andaman for bow-strings, but only used in the Great Andaman for making personal ornaments. It is possible that some magical properties are attributed to the ornaments made from this fibre.

The Pterocarpus dalbergioides is one of the most striking trees of the Andamans. It has a very hard red wood, from which the natives make their sounding-boards. There is an obscure belief in the A-Pučikwar tribe (and possibly also in other tribes) that it is dangerous to look at the tree when it is in flower. I was twice told a story of how some people were affected by looking at the flowers, and either went mad or died. On one occasion my interpreter translated the words of my informant by saying “They saw the flowers, and went giddy, and they all went to hell (J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu).” Men must be careful when the tree is in flower, not to look at it too long. In the North Andaman I was told that string games (ǰipre) must not be played when the Pterocarpus tree is in flower. They may be indulged in with safety at any other time of the year. (String games, according to one statement, were invented by the Lau, while another account attributes the invention to the crab.)

The Tetranthera lancæfolia is a small tree from which the natives obtain the wood for the shafts of their pig arrows. The leaves of this tree are believed to have the power to keep away the spirits of the forest. They are used in the pig-eating ceremony described in the last chapter. The wood is shredded and made into plumes, and these plumes are believed to have magical properties. They are worn by a man who has killed another, and are believed to protect him from the vengeance of the spirit of the dead man.

A common remedy for sickness of different kinds is a small tree called gugma in Aka-Bea, which Mr Man identifies as being Trigonostemon longifolius. The leaves of this tree are made into a bed for the patient to lie upon. They are also crushed and rubbed over the patient’s body, or he is made to inhale the odour of the crushed leaves. The natives say that it is the “smell” of the plant that possesses medical properties. The “smell” will drive away turtle, and leaves should therefore not be taken in a canoe. A man who has been handling the leaves would not go turtle-hunting.

Another remedy is a species of Alpinia. The leaves and stems of this plant are chewed and the juice swallowed for certain ailments. The plant is also used when taking honey. A man takes some of the leaves in his mouth and chews them well. Before taking the honeycomb he sprays the saliva from his mouth over and around it. He may also rub the chewed leaves over his body. The natives say that in this way they are able to prevent the bees from stinging them.

Magical properties are attributed to a number of plants that have not been botanically identified. Thus the leaves of a small tree called tare in Aka-J̌eru are crushed and moistened with water and rubbed over the body as a remedy for illness. A strip of bark from the same tree is tied round the chest of a man with a pain in his chest. The bark of two trees called (in Aka-J̌eru) tip and laro is crushed and moistened and rubbed over a sick man’s body. The leaves of a plant called pare are crushed with water and the infusion is drunk by persons suffering from diarrhœa and abdominal pains. A creeper called korotli is crushed and tied round a limb in cases of snake-bite. The seeds of the Entada scandens are heated in the fire and applied (while hot) to such wounds as that from the tusk of a boar.

There are a certain number of trees and plants about which the natives say that any person cutting them will become blind. The names of four of these in Aka-J̌eru are ǰin, burut, deŋ, and mit.

We may turn now to animals and animal substances. Magical properties are attributed to bees’-wax, particularly to black bees’-wax. In a case of pleurisy black bees’-wax was heated until it was soft, and then smeared over the man’s chest. Bees’-wax is believed to keep away the spirits of the forest.

If a man be bitten by a snake and the snake be killed it is skinned and the inner surface of the skin is applied to the wound.

A hiccough is supposed to be the result of inadvertently swallowing a tree lizard, whose call rather resembles the sound of a person hiccoughing.

The condition popularly called “pins and needles” or described as an arm or leg “going to sleep” is believed by the Andamanese to be due to the bite of a rat. If a man wakes up in the night with one of his limbs benumbed in this way, he believes that a rat has bitten him while he slept.

The Andamanese say that the bite of a civet-cat (Paradoxurus) will produce cramp. I was once told that if a man eats the flesh of the civet-cat and then goes into the water he will become “lame.” This means, I think, that he will have cramp, and so will be unable to swim.

The flesh and particularly the fat of the flying fox (Pteropus) is believed to be a remedy for rheumatism. An old man who was suffering from this ailment once asked me to shoot for him some of these bats, which he cooked and ate.

If turtle-fat be permitted to burn in the fire there will be a storm.

Mention has already been made of the magical value attributed to human bones. They are esteemed as a means of driving away spirits, and therefore of curing or preventing sickness. A human jaw-bone was hanging in my hut in such a position that it could swing in the wind. The natives attributed to this the illness from which I and several of them were suffering at the time, and asked me to put the bone away in a basket, where it could not move.

Bones of animals are made into ornaments in the same way as human bones, and magical properties of a similar kind seem to be attributed to them.

Of other objects possessing magical properties the most important is fire. Fire is believed to have the power of keeping away spirits of the sea and of the forest. A fire is always kept alight beside a sick man or woman. For dysentery stones are heated in a fire and the patient is required to defecate on to these.

In conclusion, mention must be made of one favourite remedy of the Andamanese, namely scarification. The part of the body that is the seat of pain is scarified, as the forehead for headaches, the cheek for toothache. A number of very small incisions are made in the skin close together, with a sharp flake of quartz or glass. The incisions are just deep enough to cut through the skin and cause a little blood to ooze out, but not so deep as to produce a flow of blood. The operation is the work of women. It is probably more frequently used than any other remedy except red paint and human bones.