the year will be successful. When the augur has collected a twig for
each bird he has heard, he takes these to the land selected for farming,
buries them in the ground, and with a short form of address to the birds
and to Pulang Gana—the god of the Earth—clears a small portion of the
ground of grass or jungle, and then returns home. The magic virtues of
the birds have been conveyed to the land, and the work of clearing it for
planting may be begun at any time.

The sacred birds can be bad omens as well as good. If heard on the wrong
side, or in the wrong order, the matter in hand must be postponed or
altogether abandoned, unless a subsequent conjunction of good omens
occurs, which in the judgment of old experts more than counterbalances
the bad omens.

I have mentioned the omens necessary before planting the seed. In a
similar manner, before beginning to build a house, or starting on a war
expedition, or undertaking any new line of action, certain omens are
required if good fortune is to attend them and the Fates be propitious.

For house-building, the cries of the same birds are required, and in the
same order as before planting the seed. But for a war expedition, birds
heard on the right hand are best, except in the case of the _nendak_,
which may be heard either on the right or on the left hand side.

There are, I believe, certain substitutions for this tedious process of
seeking the omens of birds. It is said that for farming, if a piece of
gold be hidden in the ground, the hearing of the proper omen birds may be
dispensed with. If a fowl be sacrificed, and the blood made to drop in a
hole in the earth in which the fowl is afterwards buried, it is said the
gods will be satisfied, and a good harvest ensue. And on the occasion of
a war expedition, if an offering is made with beating of gongs and drums
on starting from the house, it is said that no cries of birds need be
obeyed afterwards. But none of these methods are ever used, the Dyaks
preferring to submit to the tedious procedure of listening to the cries
of the birds.

It is in regard to farming that the practice is most conspicuous. And if
any of these omen birds are heard or seen by the Dyak on his way to his
work on his paddy land, it foretells either good or evil to himself or
to his farm—if good, then all is well, and he goes on his way rejoicing;
if evil, he will at once turn back and wait for the following day before
going to his work again. The _nendak_ foretells good, whether heard on
the right hand or the left; so does the _katupong_; but the _papau_ is
of evil omen, and, if heard, the man must at once beat a retreat. A
_beragai_ heard occasionally does not matter, but if heard frequently,
no work must be done for one day. The _embuas_ heard on the right hand
is very bad, and in order to insure a good harvest, the unlucky man must
not work on his farm for five days. The cry of the _beragai_ acts as an
antidote, and destroys the bad effects of the cries of birds of bad omen.
For instance, the _kutok_ and _katupong_ are both birds of bad omen, but
if after hearing them the cry of a _beragai_ is heard, no evil effects
need be dreaded. If the cry of a deer, a gazelle, or a mouse-deer be
heard, or if a rat crosses the path of a man on his way to his farm, a
day’s rest is necessary, or he will either cut himself, or become ill, or
suffer by failure of his crop.

When a remarkably good omen is heard—one which foretells a plentiful
harvest—the man must go to his farm at once, and do some trifling work
there, and then return, and in this way clench the foreshadowed luck and
at the same time reverence the spirit who promises it. Should a deer, a
gazelle, or a mouse-deer come out of the jungle to the farm when a man is
at work there, it is an exceptionally good omen. It means that customers
will come to buy the paddy, and that therefore the crop will be very
good in order that there may be paddy to sell. They honour this omen by
resting from work for three days.

But the worst of all omens is to find anywhere on the farm the dead body
of any animal, especially if it be that of any animal included in the
omen list. It infuses a deadly poison into the whole crop, and one or
other of the owner’s family will certainly die within the year. When
such a terrible thing happens, the omen is tested by killing a pig, and
divining from the appearance of its liver directly after death. If the
liver be pronounced to be of good omen, then all is well, but if not,
then all the rice grown on that ground must be sold or given away. Other
people may eat it, for the omen affects only those who own the crops.

A way of escaping from the bad effects of omens is sometimes resorted
to. Certain men, who by some peculiar magic influence are credited with
possessing in themselves some occult power which can overcome bad omens,
are able by eating some little thing of the produce of the farm to turn
away the evil prognostication and render it ineffectual. Something grown
on the farm—a little Indian corn or a few cucumber-shoots—is taken to
the man. For a small consideration he eats it raw. By this means he
appropriates to himself the evil omen, which can do him no harm, and thus
delivers the owner of the farm from any possible evil in the future.

The Dyak pays heed to these ominous creatures not only in his farming,
but in all his journeyings and in any kind of work he may be engaged in.
If he be going to visit a friend, the cry of a bird of ill omen will send
him back. If he be engaged in carrying beams from the jungle for his
house, and hear a _kutok_, or _bejampong_, or an _embuas_, he will at
once throw down the piece of timber, and it will be left there for a day
or two, or perhaps abandoned altogether. If at night the inhabitants of
a long Dyak house hear an owl make a peculiar noise called _sabut_, they
will all hastily leave the house in the early morning, and remain away,
living in temporary sheds, for some weeks, and return to the house only
when they hear a _nendak_ or _beragai_ cry on their left. There are many
omens which make a place unfit for habitation—for example, a _beragai_
flying over the house or an armadillo crawling up into it.

So great is the Dyak belief in omens that a man will sometimes abandon a
nearly finished boat simply because a bird of ill omen flies across its
bows. The labour of weeks will thus be wasted. I have myself seen wooden
beams and posts left half finished in the jungle, and have learned on
inquiry that some bird of ill omen was heard while the man was at work on
them, and so they had to be abandoned.

If a _katupong_ flies in at one end of the house and flies out at the
other, it is a bad omen, and the house is often abandoned. On one of my
visits to Sebetan there was great excitement at the Dyak house near mine
because on the previous night a _katupong_ had flown through the house.
Opinions were divided. Some thought the house ought to be abandoned;
others said that if sacrifices were offered, there was no need to desert
the house. My opinion was asked. At that time of the year the Dyak house
was very empty, as most of the families, if not all, would be living on
their farms, and I said: “You have fruit-trees growing thickly all round
your houses, and as you leave your houses empty, I am not surprised at
any bird flying through the house.” My matter-of-fact ideas were not much
approved. As usual in doubtful cases, they sacrificed a pig and examined
its liver. Luckily, the omen was good, so they continued to live in the
house; otherwise, they would have had to leave that house and build
another.

To see a drop of blood on a mat or on the floor of a Dyak house is
considered a bad omen, which sometimes necessitates the abandoning of
the house altogether. I remember hearing a woman of this same house in
Sebetan relate that, after she and the children had had their evening
meal, she was putting away the plates on the rack in the wall, when she
saw a drop of fresh blood on the mat. The Dyaks considered it a most
terrible thing to happen. I was asked what I thought about it. I said
that probably one of the children had a cut finger, and the blood was
from that. The mother was positive the blood was not that of any of her
children. I said that perhaps there was a wounded rat in the roof, and
the blood was from it. I could see that the Dyaks considered me very
ignorant. They told me that they were sure the blood must be that of some
spirit who chose that method of showing his displeasure. It was useless
for me to argue that if the spirit was invisible, his blood must be
invisible, too.

To kill one of these omen creatures, be it bird or insect, is a crime
which will certainly be punished by sickness or death. But this
sacredness of life, it may be noticed, does not apply to the deer, the
gazelle, the mouse-deer, the armadillo, and the iguana, all of which they
freely kill for food. Rats also are killed, as they are great pests. It
would seem that physical requirements are stronger than religious theory.

This is the merest outline of the practice of interpreting omens among
the Dyaks, but it will give some idea of the tediousness of the process.
And the intricacies of the subject are great. The different combinations
of these voices of Nature are endless, and it is difficult to know in
each special case whether the spirits intend to foretell good or bad
fortune. It is not an unusual thing to see old men, industrious and
sensible in ordinary matters of life, sitting down for hours discussing
the probable effect on their destiny of some special combination of omens.

The full Dyak explanation of the origin of this system of listening to
the cries of certain birds is contained in the “Story of Siu” (see p.
278).

Another story tells how some Dyaks in the Batang Lupar made a great
feast, and invited many guests. When everything was ready, and the
arrival of the guests expected, the sound of a great company of people
was heard near the village. The hosts, thinking they were the invited
friends, went to meet them, but to their surprise found they were all
utter strangers. However, they received them with due honour, and
entertained them in a manner suitable to the occasion. When the time of
departure came, they asked the strange visitors who they were, and from
whence they came. Their Chief replied: “I am _Singalang Burong_, and
these are my sons-in-law and their friends. When you hear the voices of
the following birds [giving their names] you must pay heed to them. They
are our deputies in this lower world.” And then the Dyaks understood that
they had been entertaining guests from the Spirit World, who rewarded
their hospitality by giving them the guidance of the omen system.

A favourite way of auguring good or evil among the Dyaks is the old
classical method of examining the entrails of some animal offered in
sacrifice. A pig is killed, and the heart and liver taken out and placed
upon leaves. These organs are handed round to the old men present, who
closely examine them, and pronounce them to augur either good or evil.
This method of augury is often resorted to when the interpretation of the
cries of birds is doubtful.

[Illustration: A DYAK YOUTH HOLDING A SPEAR

He is wearing the usual waistcloth and has also a sleeveless war-jacket
made of skin covered with hair.]

A study of the subject of omens and augury shows the need the Dyak feels,
in common with all mankind, of some guidance from higher and unseen
powers. What is the principle which underlies this system of omens? There
is no doubt a morbid anxiety to know the secrets of the future. But that
is not all. Surely in addition to this there is the hidden conviction
that the gods have some way of revealing their wishes to mankind, and
that obedience to the will of the higher powers is the only way to insure
success and happiness.

The Dyaks place implicit confidence in dreams. Their theory is that
during sleep the soul can hear, see, and understand, and so what is
dreamt is really what the soul sees. When anyone dreams of a distant
land, they believe that his soul has paid a flying visit to that land.
They interpret their dreams literally. The appearance of deceased
relatives in dreams is to the Dyaks a proof that the souls live in
_Sabayan_, and as in the dreams they seem to wear the same dress and to
be engaged in the same occupations as when they lived in this world, it
is difficult to persuade the Dyaks that the life in the other world can
be different from that in this.

In dreams, also, the gods and spirits are supposed to bring charms to
human beings. The story is often told of how a man falls asleep, and
dreams that a spirit came to him and gave certain charms, and lo! when he
awakes, he finds them in his hands. Or else he is told in his dream to go
to a certain spot at a certain time, and take some stone which will have
some mysterious influence for good over his fortunes. Very often these
magic charms, or _pengaroh_, as they are called by the Dyaks, are nothing
more than ordinary black pebbles, but the possession of them is supposed
to endow the owner with exceptional powers.

No doubt Dyaks often concoct dreams out of their waking thoughts to suit
their own interests, and many a man falsely declares he has received the
gift of a charm from some spirit in order to appear of importance before
others.

To conclude, dreams are looked upon by the Dyaks as the means the gods
and spirits use to convey their commands or to warn men of coming danger.
Houses are often deserted, and farming land on which much labour has
been spent abandoned, on account of dreams. Newly-married couples often
separate from the same cause. It is no unusual thing for a man or a woman
to dream that the spirits are hungry and need food. In that case the
inmates of the Dyak house organize a feast, and offerings are made to the
hungry spirits.

Sometimes dreams are made an excuse for evil deeds. A woman who had been
guilty of adultery said she was only carrying out the command of the gods
conveyed to her in a dream, and that if she disobeyed she would probably
become mad!

CHAPTER XIII

THE “MANANG,” OR WITCH-DOCTOR

    _Manangs_ supposed to possess mysterious powers over evil
    spirits—Dyak theory of disease—Treatment of disease—_Lupong_,
    or box of charms—_Batu Ilau_—_Manang_ performances—_Pagar
    Api_—Catching the soul—Sixteen different _manang_
    ceremonies—Killing the demon _Buyu_—_Saut_—Salampandai—Deceit
    of _manangs_—Story of a schoolboy—Smallpox and cholera—Three
    ceremonies of initiation—Different ranks of _manangs_.

Among the lower races of mankind there is always to be found the
witch-doctor, who claims to have mysterious powers, and to be able to
hold communication with the spirit-world. Where there is ignorance as
to the cause of disease, and the effects that different medicines have
on the human body, magical ceremonies and pretensions to supernatural
powers are allowed full sway. Fear and anxiety in cases of illness make
men eager to believe in any suggested remedy, however absurd it may be.
The Dyaks are no exception to the rule. They have their _manangs_, or
witch-doctors.

The peculiar attribute of the _manang_ is the possession of mysterious
powers over the spirits, rather than any special knowledge of medicines.
There is often some small idea of the use of certain simple herbal
remedies, but it is not on this knowledge that his importance depends.
The great function of the _manang_ is to defeat and drive away the
malignant spirits which cause sickness and death. All maladies are
supposed to be inflicted by the passing or the touch of demons, who are
enemies to mankind. The Dyak description of most diseases is _pansa
utai_, literally “something passed him.” A spirit passed him and struck
him. In accordance with this idea of disease, the only person who can
cure the sick man is the one who can cope with the unseen evil spirit.
The _manang_ claims to be able to do this. He can charm or persuade
or kill the evil spirit and rescue the departing soul from his cruel
clutches. When called in to attend a patient, he, in company with other
medicine-men, goes through a performance called _Pelian_. There are
different varieties of this ceremony, according to the disease and the
amount of the fees paid.

_Manangs_ are generally called to their profession by a revelation made
to them in dreams by some spirit. Each _manang_, therefore, claims to
have a familiar spirit, whom he can call to his aid when necessary. When
a person receives a call from the spirit, he bids adieu for a while to
his relatives, abandons his former occupations, and attaches himself to
some other experienced _manang_, who, for a consideration, will take him
in hand and instruct him in the incantations, a knowledge of which is
necessary for his calling.

The _manang_ looks upon a sick person as in the power of an evil spirit.
As long as that spirit remains in possession, the patient cannot recover.
He bids it depart. If it be obstinate and will not go, he summons his
own familiar spirit to his aid. If the evil spirit still refuse to go,
then the _manang_ admits his inability to deal with the case alone, and
several other _manangs_ are called to his aid.

Whether the patient live or die, the _manang_ is rewarded for his
trouble. He makes sure of this before he undertakes a case, as he is put
to considerable inconvenience by being fetched away from his own home and
his own work. He takes up his abode with the patient, and has his meals
with the family, and in other ways makes himself at home. If a cure be
effected, he receives a present in addition to his regular fee. Herbal
remedies are often administered internally or applied outwardly by him,
but, in addition to these, spells are muttered and incantations made to
exorcize the evil spirit that is tormenting the man.

Every _manang_ consults his familiar spirit as to what is best to be done
for the case. When a person complains of pain in his body, the familiar
is said to suggest that some mischievous spirit has put something into
him to cause the pain. The _manang_ will then manipulate the part, and
pretend to draw something out—a small piece of wood or a stone, or
whatever it may chance to be—and exhibit it as the cause of the pain in
the body. This he has by his magical power been able to remove from the
body without even leaving a mark on the skin!

The _manang_ always possesses a _lupong_, or medicine-box (see p. 184),
generally made of the bark of a tree, and this is filled with charms
consisting of scraps of wood or bark, curiously twisted roots, pebbles,
and fragments of quartz. These medicinal charms are either inherited,
or have been revealed by the spirits in dreams to their owners. One
important and necessary charm is the _Batu Ilau_ (“stone of light”)—a bit
of quartz crystal which every _manang_ possesses.

The _manang_ never carries his own box of charms; the people who fetch
him must carry it for him. He arrives at the house of the sick man
generally at sunset, for he never performs in daylight, unless the case
is very serious and he is paid extra for doing so. It is difficult and
dangerous work, he says, to have any dealings with the spirits in the
daytime. Sitting down by the patient, after some inquiries, he produces
out of his medicine-box a boar’s tusk or pebble, or some other charm, and
gently strokes the body with it. If there be several medicine-men called
in, the leader undertakes the preliminary examination, the rest giving
their assent.

The _manang_ now produces his _Batu Ilau_ (“stone of light”), and gravely
looks into it to diagnose the character of the disease, and to see where
the soul is, and to discover what is the proper ceremony necessary for
the case in question. Where there is serious illness the witch-doctor
affirms that the spirit of the afflicted person has already left the body
and is on its way to the next world, but that he may be able to overtake
it and bring it back, and restore it to the person to whom it belongs.
He pretends to converse with the spirit that troubles the sick man,
repeating aloud the answers that the spirit is supposed to make.

There are many different ceremonies resorted to in cases of illness, but
the following is what is common to all _manang_ performances.

In the public hall of the Dyak house a long-handled spear is fixed blade
upwards, with a few leaves tied round it, and at its foot are placed the
medicine-boxes of all the witch-doctors who take part in the ceremony.
This is called the _Pagar Api_ (“fence of fire”). Why it is called by
this curious name is not clear. The _manangs_ all squat on the floor,
and the leader begins a long monotonous drawl, the rest either singing
in concert or joining in the choruses or singing antiphonally with him.
After a tiresome period of this dull drawling, they stand up and march
with slow and solemn step in single file round the _Pagar Api_. The
monotonous chant sometimes slackens, sometimes quickens, as they march
round and round the whole night through, with only one interval for
food in the middle of the night. The patient simply lies on his mat and
listens.

Most of what is chanted is unintelligible, and consists of meaningless
sounds, it being supposed that what is not understood by man is
intelligible to the spirits. But some parts of it, though expressed
in very prolix and ornate language, can be understood by the careful
listener.

The witch-doctors call upon the sickness to be off to the ends of the
earth, and return to the unseen regions from whence it came. They invoke
the aid of spirits and of ancient worthies and unworthies down to their
own immediate ancestors, and spin the invocation out to a sufficient
length to last till early morning. Then comes the climax to which all
this has been leading—the truant soul has to be caught and brought back
again to the body of the sick man.

If the patient be in a dangerous state they pretend his soul has escaped
far away. Perhaps they give out that it has escaped to the river, and
they will wave about a garment or a piece of woven cloth to imitate the
action of throwing a casting net to enclose it as a fish is caught. Or
else they say that it has escaped into the jungle, and they will rush
out of the house to secure it there. Or perhaps they say that it has
been carried over the sea to unknown lands, and they all sit down and
imitate the action of paddling a boat to follow it. But this is only
done in special cases, and I have often been told by Dyaks who have been
present at a particular _manang_ performance: “The man was very ill
indeed. His _samengat_ (soul) had gone so far away that the _manangs_ had
great difficulty in finding it. They paddled over the sea, they threw
a net into the water, and did many other things before they ultimately
succeeded in catching it.”

Generally the next thing they do is to move faster and faster, till they
rush round the _Pagar Api_ as hard as they can, still singing their
incantation. One of their number suddenly falls to the floor and remains
motionless. The others sit down round him. The motionless _manang_ is
covered over with a blanket, and all wait while his spirit is supposed
to hurry away to the other world to find the wandering soul and bring
it back. Presently he revives, and looks vacantly round like a man just
waking out of sleep. Then he raises his right hand, clenched as if
holding something. That hand contains the soul, and he proceeds to the
patient and solemnly returns it to the body of the sick man through the
crown of his head, muttering at the same time more words of incantation.
This “catching of the soul” (_nangkap samengat_) is the great end to
which all that has preceded leads up. One function remains to complete
the cure. A live fowl must be waved over the patient, and as he does
so, the leader sings a special invocation of great length. The animal
is afterwards killed as an offering to the spirits, and eaten by the
_manangs_.

I have given a general account of all _Pelian_ or _manang_ performances.
There are different kinds of ceremonies, according to the advice of the
_manang_ or the fee the patient is prepared to pay. In the following list
are the names of the principal _Pelian_. If a patient fail to recover
after one kind of ceremony, the _manangs_ often recommend another and
more expensive one.

1. _Betepas_ (“sweeping”): At the time of the birth of each individual, a
plant is supposed to grow up in the other world. If this plant continues
to grow well, then the man enjoys good and robust health; if it droops,
the man’s health suffers. When a man, therefore, has bad dreams or feels
slightly unwell for a few days, his plant in Hades is said to be in a bad
condition, and the _manang_ is called to weed and sweep around it, and by
doing so improve the condition of the plant, and consequently the health
of the man. This is the first and cheapest function of the _manang_. In
this he does not “catch the soul,” as is done in the other ceremonies.
All he does is to mutter some incantation and wave a fowl over the person.

2. _Berenchah_ (“making an assault”): The door between the private room
and the public veranda is thrown open, and the _manangs_ march backwards
and forwards between room and veranda. Each _manang_ carries two swords,
one in each hand, and he beats these against each other, and they rush at
the patient as if to attack him. This is supposed to be making an assault
against the evil spirits and scattering them on all sides.

3. _Berua_ (“swinging”): A swing is hung up outside the door of the sick
person’s room. The _manang_ sits in this swing, with the double object of
catching the man’s soul, if it leave his body, and also of frightening
any evil spirit that may come near to hurt the man.

4. _Betanam pentik_ (“planting a _pentik_”): A _pentik_ is a roughly
carved wooden representation of a man. The _manang_ rushes through
the house three times with this figure, and then plants it in the
ground at the foot of the ladder of the house, and near it is put a
winnowing-basket, a cooking-pot, and the piece of wood used in weaving to
press the threads together. The figure is planted in the ground in the
evening. If it remain till the morning in an upright position, recovery
is certain; but if it be inclined either to the right or left, it is an
omen of death.

5. _Bepancha_ (“making a _pancha_”): A _pancha_ is a swing erected on the
tanju, or open-air platform, of the house. In this swing the _manang_
sits, and by the movement of his feet “kicks away” the disease. While
seated in this swing he “catches the soul” of the patient.

6. _Ngelembayan_ (“taking a long sight”): A number of planks are laid
about in the public veranda, and the _manangs_ walk upon them, chanting
their incantations. Then one of their number pretends to swoon, and is
supposed to sail over rivers and seas to find the soul and bring it back.

7. _Bebayak_ (“making a _bayak_, or iguana”): Some cooked rice is moulded
into the shape of an iguana, and is covered over with cloths. This figure
is supposed to eat up the evil spirits which cause the disease.

8. _Nemuai Ka Sabayan_ (“making a journey to Hades”): The _manangs_,
with hats on their heads, march up and down the house singing their
incantations. While their bodies are doing this, their souls are supposed
to speed away to Hades and bring back all manner of medicinal charms and
talismans, as well as the wandering soul of the sick man.

9. _Betiang garong_ (“making a post for departed souls”): A piece of
bamboo is hung up to the roof-ridge, and an offering is put on the
ridge. A swing is erected up there for the _manang_, and he makes his
incantations and “catches the soul.”

10. _Begiling lantai_ (“rolled up in the flooring”): In this ceremony,
when the _manang_ feigns to swoon, his body is rolled up in part of the
flooring, and certain miniature articles are put by his side, just as a
dead man’s possessions are put by his body, and the _manang_ is taken out
of the house as if to be buried.

11. _Beburong raia_ (“making or acting the adjutant bird”): The _manangs_
walk up and down the house seven times, imitating the actions of the
adjutant bird. They are covered with native sheets, put over their bodies
like cloaks, and they pretend to personate the bird.

12. _Bebaju besi_ (“wearing an iron coat”): Each _manang_ fastens two
choppers on his back and two in front, and carries one in each hand. Thus
equipped, they walk round and “catch the soul.”

13. _Bebandong Api_ (“displaying fire”): The patient is laid out in the
public part of the house, and several small fires are made round him. The
_manangs_ pretend to dissect his body, and fan the flames towards him to
drive away the sickness.

14. _Betiti tendai_ (“walking on the _tendai_”): The _tendai_ is the
bar on which cotton is placed when being spun. This bar is oiled and
placed in the middle of the public veranda, and the _manang_, armed with
a chopper in each hand, walks on it in order to “catch the soul” of the
patient.

15. _Beremaung_ (“acting the tiger”): In the middle of each family’s
portion of the public veranda is placed a wooden mortar, and the _manang_
prowls round them to “catch the soul” of the patient.

16. _Betukup rarong_ (“to split open the coffin”): A _manang_ is put in a
coffin, and by his side are put miniature articles, supposed to represent
the utensils used in daily life. The other _manangs_ walk round, and
attempt to “catch the soul” of the sick man. When they have succeeded in
doing this, the coffin is split open and the _manang_ gets out.

These are the different kinds of _manang_ ceremonies known, but only the
first four are in common use. The others are rarely resorted to nowadays.

In addition to these must be mentioned the _Munoh Antu_, or _Bepantap
Buyu_ (“killing the demon,” or “wounding Buyu”). Buyu is the name of the
evil spirit who brings many diseases and causes miscarriage in women.
When there is some unusual or obstinate disease, or when a woman has had
miscarriage, the _manangs_ declare that Buyu is the cause of the trouble,
and must be killed. A large number of witch-doctors are called together,
and the feat is performed in this way: The patient is taken out of the
room, and laid on the common veranda, and covered with a net. In the room
is placed an offering of food, and the _manangs_ walk in procession up
and down the whole length of the house, chanting their incantations, and
inviting the evil spirit to come to his victim, and also to partake of
the sumptuous repast that is prepared for him. This occupies some time,
for the spirit may be far away, on a journey, or fishing, or hunting.
All lights are extinguished, and in the darkness the _manangs_ walk up
and down the public hall of the Dyak house. At intervals one of them
peeps in at the door to see if the spirit has arrived. In due time the
demon comes, and then the _manangs_ themselves enter the darkened room.
Presently sounds of scuffling, of clashing of weapons, and of shouting
are heard by the Dyaks outside. Soon after the door is thrown open, and
the demon said to be dead. He was cheated into coming to torment his
prey, and instead of a weak and helpless victim he met the crafty and
mighty _manangs_, who have done what ordinary mortals cannot do—attacked
and killed him. As a proof of the reality of the deed lights are
brought in, and the _manangs_ point to spots of blood on the floor, and
occasionally to the corpse itself in the shape of a dead monkey or snake,
which they say was the form the spirit took for the occasion. The trick
is a very simple one. Some time in the day the _manangs_ procure blood
from a fowl or some other animal, or it may be from their own bodies,
mix it with water in a bamboo to prevent congealing, smuggle it into the
room, and scatter it on the floor in the dark. This can safely be done,
as no one but the _manangs_ themselves are in the room. Neither lights
nor outsiders are admitted, on the plea that under such circumstances the
demon could not be enticed to enter. The trick has often been detected
and the performers openly accused of imposture; consequently, it is not
now practised so often as in former times. When this victory over the
spirit is won, the _Pelian_ goes on in the usual way till the morning
hours.

In addition to these _Pelian_, there is another _manang_ ceremony which
is often performed, and known by the name of _Saut_. A feast is always
given in the house where this ceremony takes place, so it is the occasion
of the gathering of friends from many different Dyak houses. The reasons
for having this ceremony are various. If they have had a series of bad
harvests, or if one or more people in the house are ill, or if they wish
the future of one child or many to be bright and prosperous, then the
_manangs_ are called in to perform the _Saut_.

The principal god or deity invoked in this ceremony is Selampandai, the
god who fashions mankind out of clay by hammering them out on an anvil.
As in other performances of the _manangs_, there is a _Pagar Api_ put up
in the open veranda. The ceremony begins at dusk, when three offerings of
food are made. The first is to the gods of the women, and this is thrown
out of the window of the room to the ground; the second offering is made
to the gods of the men, and is thrown out to the ground from the unroofed
veranda in front of the house; the third offering is to Selampandai, and
this is put in the loft over the _Pagar Api_.

Areca-nut blossoms are placed ready for use on a little shelf, and three
plates of rice are put near them as offerings to the spirits. A large
valuable jar (_tajau_) filled with native spirit (_tuak_) is placed in
the public veranda of the house. If there be a sick man to be cured, he
sits on a brass gong (_chanang_) by the _Pagar Api_. The _manangs_ march
up and down singing their incantations. After doing this for some time,
each of them takes a bunch of areca-blossom in his hands, and they strike
each other with these until the blossoms are broken and strew the ground.
Then the _manangs_ walk slowly round the jar, bowing to it at each step.
After this they join hands, and rush round the jar as fast as they can
go, until they are quite exhausted.

During this the guests who have been invited to the feast are seated
about eating and drinking, or chatting to each other. Later on in the
evening, when the _manangs_ have completed their ceremony, the _tuak_ in
the jar is handed round in cups for the guests to drink. As usual at
feasts, when a cup of spirit is given to a man, he drinks the contents
and keeps the cup, and it is no unusual thing to see a man returning from
a feast with twenty or thirty cups in his possession.

There is a good deal of deceit and humbug and a little clumsy
sleight-of-hand on the part of the _manang_, and an unlimited amount of
faith on the part of the patient. The _manang_ must be conscious of his
own deceit, but he believes that his incantations do good, and I have
often known cases of _manangs_ having these ceremonies for members of
their own family who are ill. But as a rule a _manang_ is not a truthful
man at all. He is not above telling any number of lies to increase his
importance. He always pretends to have had previous knowledge of what is
going to happen, and often says, when he is called in to a case, that he
knew some time previously that his patient would be ill and come to him
for help.

There can be no doubt that the average Dyak knows that there is a great
deal of deceit connected with the _manang’s_ profession, but he also
knows he must submit to that deceit if he wishes to have his help, and he
believes that in some way the incantations and remarkable actions of the
_manangs_ help to scare away the evil spirit which is the cause of the
disease.

I remember that one of my schoolboys was on a visit to his relatives in
Saribas. His sister was ill, and his parents sent for the _manangs_ to
cure her. The boy protested. He said they were Christians, and ought not
to make incantations to the spirits. But no notice was taken of what he
said. The _manang_ went through the usual farce of “catching the soul”
and restoring it to the girl. The boy looked on, and when it was over
said to him:

“You are a fraud. You know you cannot ‘catch the soul,’ and you only
pretend to do so, and get paid for it.”

The _manang_ was no doubt disgusted at being thus reproved by a little
boy, and replied:

“I am able to catch the soul and restore it. I will catch your soul if
you like.”

“Do so,” said the boy. “I would like you very much to do it.”

The foolish _manang_ pretended to faint; then he woke up in the orthodox
manner with one hand clenched, and when he opened it, lo and behold!
there was something there which he declared was the boy’s soul.

The boy sat and looked on while all this went on.

“Here is your soul,” the _manang_ said, “which I have succeeded in
catching after much troubled. Let me restore it to you, so that you may
be in good health.”

“Call that my soul?” said the boy. “I make a present of it to you. I do
not want it. You can keep it. I have a soul which you cannot touch.”

The _manang_ was puzzled. He had never known such a thing as anyone
daring to refuse to have his own soul. He spoke to the parents, and said
that something terrible would happen to the boy if he persisted in not
having his soul returned to his body. The parents wished the boy to do
what the _manang_ desired, but he was determined, and did what all Dyak
boys do when they are disobedient—ran off into the jungle, where he knew
he would not easily be found.

When this boy came back to my school, he told me all about it, and later
on, when he and I went to his people, they spoke about it. As the boy was
in very good health, they all had a laugh at the _manang’s_ expense. If,
however, anything had happened to the boy, no doubt the _manang_ would
have made much capital out of it.

I have sometimes argued with a _manang_ that if the soul has already left
the body of the patient when he is called in, then the man ought to be
dead. The answer to this is that a man has more than one soul. It is only
when _all_ his souls leave the body that the man dies. Some Dyaks assert
that a man has three souls, and others seven. Their ideas on this matter
do not agree.

Though the _manang_ is supposed to be able to defeat the evil spirits
which cause disease, there are some diseases which are too terrible for
even his mystical powers. The epidemic scourges of cholera and smallpox
are said to be caused by the direct influence of evil spirits. Smallpox
is said to be caused by the King of Evil Spirits, because it is such a
terrible disease. The name by which it is known among the Dyaks is _Sakit
Rajah_ (the sickness of, or caused by, the King of Evil Spirits). But the
_manangs_ will not go near a case of either. Probably a consciousness
of their own powerlessness, combined with a fear of infection, has made
them assert that those diseases do not come within reach of their powers.
Other means, such as propitiatory sacrifices and offerings, must be
resorted to.

To qualify a man to take part in this mixed system of symbolism
and deceit, a form of initiative ceremony is gone through by other
witch-doctors, in the course of which he is supposed to learn the secrets
of his mystic calling. The aspirant to the office of _manang_ must first
commit to memory a certain amount of Dyak traditional lore, to enable him
to take part in the incantations in company with other witch-doctors. But
in addition to this, before he can accomplish the more important parts,
such as pretending to catch the soul of a sick man, he must be publicly
initiated by one or more of the following ceremonies:

1. The first is called _Besudi_, which means “feeling,” or “touching.”
The aspirant sits in the veranda of the Dyak house, and a number of
witch-doctors walk round him singing incantations the whole night. The
ceremony performed over him is the same as that done for a sick man
(_Pelian_). This is supposed to endow him with the power to touch and
feel the maladies of the body, and apply the requisite cure. It admits
to the lowest grade, called _manang mata_ (unripe _manang_), and is
obtainable for the lowest fees.

2. If a _manang_ wishes to attain a higher grade, he goes through a
second ceremony, which is called _Bekliti_, or “opening.” A whole
night’s incantation is again gone through by the other _manangs_, and
in the early morning the great function of initiation is carried out.
The witch-doctors lead the aspirant into an apartment curtained off from
public gaze by large sheets of native woven cloth. There they assert
they cut his head open, and take out his brains and wash and restore
them. This is to give him a clear mind to penetrate into the mysteries of
disease and to circumvent the wiles of the unseen spirits. They insert
gold-dust into his eyes to give him keenness and strength of sight, so
that he may be able to see the soul wherever it may have wandered. They
plant barbed hooks in the tips of his fingers to enable him to seize the
struggling soul and hold it fast, and, lastly, they pierce his heart
with an arrow to make him tender-hearted and full of sympathy with the
sick and suffering. Needless to say, none of these things are done. A
few symbolic actions representing them are all that are gone through. A
cocoanut is placed on the head of the man and split open instead of the
head, and so on. After this second ceremony the man is a fully-qualified
_manang_—a _manang mansau_ (a ripe _manang_)—competent to practise all
parts of his deceitful craft.

3. There is, however, a third and highest grade, which is attainable
only by ambitious candidates who are rich enough to make the necessary
outlay. They may become _manang bangun_, _manang enjun_ (_manangs_ waved
upon, _manangs_ trampled upon). As in other cases, this involves a whole
night’s ceremony, in which many of the older witch-doctors take part.
They begin by walking round and round the aspirant to this high honour,
and wave over him bunches of betel-nut blossom. This is the _bangun_
(the waving upon). Then in the middle of the veranda a large jar is
placed having a short ladder fastened on each side and connected at the
top. At various intervals during the night the _manangs_, leading the
new candidate, march him up one ladder and down the other, but what
this is supposed to symbolize is not clear. As a finish to this play at
mysteries, the man lays himself flat on the floor and the others walk
over him and trample upon him. In some mysterious way this action is
supposed to impart to him the supernatural power they themselves possess.
This is the _enjun_, the “trampling upon.” The fees necessary to obtain
this highest grade among witch-doctors are high, and therefore few are
able to afford it. One who has been through this ceremony will often be
heard to boast that he is no ordinary spirit-controller or soul-catcher,
but something far superior—a _manang bangun, manang enjun_.

There is a yet higher grade which some _manangs_ attain to—that is, when
he becomes a _manang bali_. _Bali_ means “changed,” and a _manang bali_
is one who is supposed to have changed his sex, and become a woman.

Sometimes a male _manang_ assumes female attire. He does this, it is
said, because he has had a supernatural command conveyed to him in dreams
on three separate occasions. To disregard such a command would mean
death. He prepares a feast, and sacrifices a pig or two to avert evil
consequences to the tribe, and then assumes female costume. Thenceforth
he is treated like a woman, and occupies himself in female pursuits. His
chief aim in life is to copy female manners and habits as accurately as
possible.

A _manang bali_ is paid much higher fees than an ordinary _manang_, and
is often called in when others have been unable to effect a cure. I do
not think there is ever a case of a young man becoming a _manang bali_.
Generally it is an old and childless man who uses this means of earning a
livelihood.

The only occasion on which I have met a _manang bali_ was in the upper
part of the Krian River. He seemed a poor sort of creature, and appeared
to me to be looked down upon by the Dyaks, though they were glad
enough to ask his help in cases of illness. He had a “husband,” a lazy
good-for-nothing, who lived on the earnings of the _manang bali_.

Women as well as men may become _manangs_, though it is not usual to meet
many such nowadays. I have only come across one woman _manang_, and that
was at Temudok, though I have heard of several others in different parts
of the country.

The fact that the _manang_ claims to be able to hold communion with the
spirit-world would lead one to suppose that he is the priest of the
Dyak system of worship. But in practice the _manang_ is more a doctor
than a priest. His aid is always called in case of illness, but not
necessarily at the great religious functions of the Dyaks—the sacrifice
of propitiation to Pulang Gana, the god of the earth, or the sacrificial
feast to Singalang Burong, the god of war. Generally, other Dyaks
are the officiating ministers on these occasions, the only requisite
qualification being the ability to chant the invocation and incantations
which accompany the offering and ceremonies. Also at marriages or at
burials the _manang_ is not the officiant, but some old man of standing,
who has a reputation for being fortunate in his undertakings. A _manang_
may be the officiant, not by virtue of his office, but for other reasons.

CHAPTER XIV

NATIVE REMEDIES AND DYAK CHARMS

    Native remedies—Cupping—Charms—A Dyak medicine-chest—Smallpox
    and cholera—My experience at Temudok.

As has already been shown in the preceding chapter, the Dyak looks to
the _manang_, or witch-doctor, to help him in all cases of illness.
All sickness is caused by some evil spirit, and the _manang_ alone has
power over these unseen enemies, and he uses incantations to appease or
frighten these demons away.

But though in all cases of serious illness the _manang_ is called in,
yet the treatment of every disease is not left in his hands. Dyaks use
some things as outward applications, and certain herbal remedies are
given internally in the case of illness. I have seen Dyaks boil some
bitter bark in water and drink this liquid when they have fever. Certain
oils are also used as liniments. The betel-nut and pepper-leaf (_sireh_)
mixture is used as an outward application for many complaints. Some
man—generally one who is successful in what he undertakes—is asked to
chew some of this hot mixture in his mouth. Having done this, he leans
over and squirts the red saliva over the affected part, and rubs it in
with his fingers. Dyaks with a headache will be seen with their foreheads
smeared over with it. Newly-born babes have their stomachs and chests
covered with daily applications of the same thing by their mothers.

Ground ginger is also used as a poultice, especially in the case of women
who have given birth to a child; and the water in which pieces of ginger
have been boiled is drunk by people suffering from ague, as well as by
lying-in women.

The Dyaks are very fond of blood-letting whenever there is pain in any
part of the body or limb, and they have a method of “cupping” which
is rather ingenious. The part from which the blood is to be drawn has
incisions made in it with a small knife. The “cupping-glass” is a young
wet bamboo which has a knot at one end, but is open at the other. This
is heated at the fire, and then placed firmly over the incisions made
in the flesh. Cold water is then poured on the bamboo, and it draws
out the blood. The heat fills the bamboo with steam from its dampness.
The cold water condenses this steam, and makes the bamboo an excellent
“cupping-glass.”

As the Dyak believes that all sickness is caused by the spirits, it is
not surprising that his faith in medicines is small, and that he knows
of few remedies, and depends for his cures either on the mysterious
ceremonies of the witch-doctors or on charms which have been made known
by the spirits to the fortunate owners by means of dreams. These charms
are generally pebbles, roots, leaves, feathers, or bits of wood. The
pebbles and roots are rubbed on the body, or else put in water and the
water applied. The leaves, bits of wood, feathers, etc., are burnt, and
the ashes rubbed on the affected part.

Though the _manang_ depends upon his power over spirits to cure
diseases, still he calls to his aid his numerous charms, which he claims
to have received from the spirits. These valued treasures are carried in
his _lupong_, or medicine-chest.

The following excellent description of “The Contents of a Dyak
Medicine-chest,” by Bishop Hose, under whom I worked for many years as a
missionary to the Dyaks, is reproduced here by his kind permission. The
place and the people mentioned in it are all well known to me, as the
village of Kundong is in the Saribas District, which was in my charge for
many years:—

“A few days ago I was in the upper part of the Saribas River, the home of
the race once celebrated throughout Malaya for daring deeds of piracy. My
companion was the Rev. William Howell, the joint author with Mr. D. J.
S. Bailey of “A Dictionary of the Sea Dyak Language,” and an authority
on all subjects connected with the religious and other customs of that
people. We had ascended the Padih, an affluent of the main river, to the
village of Kundong, where we were going to spend the night in the Dyak
house of which Brok is the _tuai_, or headman. The house is of moderate
length—about twenty doors—and as usual the apartments of the _tuai_ are
near the middle of the building. There we were hospitably installed on
the _ruai_, or undivided hall (sometimes described as a veranda), which
extends throughout the whole length of a Sea Dyak house and occupies
about half of its area. The good mats were brought down from the _sadau_,
or loft, and spread for us—the rare luxury of a chair was provided for
me—and there we talked, and taught, and answered questions, and dispensed
medicines, while the inhabitants of the other rooms gathered round us, as
well as the occupants of our host’s private quarters. There also we ate,
and there we slept when the kindly people would at last consent to our
going to bed.

“The majority of the ‘rooms’—_i.e._, separate tenements—in this house
are inhabited by Christians of long standing, but there are a few who
have not yet come in. Amongst them is a _manang_, or doctor of magic,
named Dasu, who has a large practice in the neighbourhood. I was anxious
to interview him in order to get some information that I wanted for the
purpose of comparing the original spiritual beliefs of the Borneans with
those that underlie the Mohammedanism of the Malays of the Peninsula.
I was also desirous of ascertaining how far the methods of the Dyak
_manang_, when undertaking to cure diseases, resembled those of the
_pawang_ and _bomor_, his Malay confrères.

“At our invitation Dr. Dasu came out of his room readily enough, and
sat down with us to chat and smoke a cigarette. He talked freely and
intelligently about such matters of general interest as happened to be
broached, especially the late expedition against the turbulent people of
the Ulu Ai, and the terrible epidemic of cholera which was just passing
away. But as soon as we began to give the conversation a professional
turn, and speak of the practice of medicine by the native doctors of
the Saribas, he put on a look of impenetrable reserve, and could hardly
be persuaded to speak at all. There is reason to believe that this was
chiefly owing to the presence of Mr. Howell. He has succeeded in winning
the confidence and affectionate regard of Dyaks to an unusual degree,
but he is unpopular among the _manangs_. His teaching has led people to
think for themselves, and wherever he goes the business and the gains of
the village doctor show a tendency to decrease. Moreover, several of
the fraternity have submitted to his influence, abandoned their tricks,
and taken to honest farming. It is known, too, that some of these have
surrendered their whole stock of charms to my friend, and have also made
dangerous revelations, whereby the profession has been much discredited.

“So Dr. Dasu was only with great difficulty induced to impart to us his
knowledge. He told me, after more confidential relations had grown up
between us, that he suspected me of an intention, by some means or other,
to get possession of his precious _materia medica_, and so deprive him
of his means of living. However, his fears were removed by repeated
assurances that it was information only that I wanted, and that I was
consulting him just because I preferred to get it direct from a professor
of repute rather than trust to reports received from white men. At length
we persuaded him to be gently catechized. I got some precise answers to
my questions respecting certain articles of Dyak belief which had been
variously defined by different investigators, and about which my ideas
had been a good deal confused. But those matters are not the subject
of this note. It is the concluding incident of the rather prolonged
interview that I propose to describe.

“We had talked to one another so pleasantly and frankly that I thought
I might ask Dasu as a great favour to show me his _lupong_, or
medicine-chest, and the charms of power which it contained. It was quite
evident that this aroused his suspicions again, and he retired within
himself as before. But the principal people of the house, who were
sitting by us, urged him to consent, and, as old acquaintances of mine,
assured him of my good faith. So he was at last persuaded, and went to
his own room to fetch the treasure.

“As I have said, the good mats of the household, as is usual when it
is intended to show respect to a visitor, had been taken down for our
accommodation from the place where they are stored. But we now saw that
the most valued of them all had been held in reserve. This, which was
made of fine and very flexible _rotan_, the latest triumph of the skill
and industry of our courteous hostess, Ipah, Brok’s wife, was now handed
down and spread in front of us for the reception of the great man and the
mysterious implements of his profession. After some considerable delay,
probably intended to excite our curiosity the more, he appeared, and
sat down on the mat prepared for him, a subdued murmur of applause and
satisfaction greeting him as he took his seat.

“A _manang’s lupong_, or case for holding his charms, may be almost
anything. Sometimes it is a box, sometimes a basket, sometimes a bag.
In this instance it was an open-mouthed basket made of thin shavings of
bamboo hung round the neck of the owner by a strip of bark.

“Before beginning the exhibition, Dasu made a little formal speech,
in which, with much show of humility, he spoke in depreciation of his
own powers and knowledge and of his collection of remedial charms, as
compared with those of other members of the profession elsewhere. These
remarks were of course received with complimentary expressions of dissent
from the audience; and then at last the contents of the basket were
displayed before us. They were tied up together in a cloth bag, the most
highly-prized being further enclosed in special receptacles of their own,
such as a second cloth covering, a little bamboo box with a lid, or a
match-box. They were ceremoniously brought out, and placed side by side
on the mat of honour. I was then invited to handle and examine them, and
the name and use of each were told me without any fresh indication of
unwillingness. This is a list of them:

“1. _Batu bintang_, or star-stone. A small, transparent stone rounded by
the action of water till it was almost spherical, with a rather rough
surface. The _manang_ looked upon it as his badge of authority, and told
the following story of the way he became possessed of it. Many years ago,
in the interval between harvest and the next seed-time, he was working as
a cooly in Upper Sarawak. There he had a dream in which he was visited
by the being whom he looked upon as his guardian spirit. As in all cases
when this spirit has had any communication to make to him, it appeared in
the form of a tortoise. It told him that he must forthwith put himself
under instruction in order to be qualified for the office of a _manang_;
and that if he neglected this command all the spirits would be angry, and
death or madness would be the penalty. When he awoke he found the _batu
bintang_ by his side, and had no doubt it was the gift of the spirit.
Accordingly, he did as he was bidden without loss of time. He acquired
the professional knowledge and the stock-in-trade which were necessary,
and was at last duly initiated with all the proper rites and ceremonies.

“2. _Batu krat ikan sembilan_, or the petrified section of the Sembilan
fish. This was a curious object which I could not quite make out. It was
oblong in shape, about two inches long, one inch broad, and half an inch
thick in the middle, but getting suddenly thinner towards the two edges
till it became not more than one-sixteenth of an inch. The thick part
was hollow, having a large, oval-shaped perforation going through it. It
resembled a section from the middle of a large winged seed, but heavy
for its size, and feeling like a stone. I could not of course test this
by cutting or scraping. When used it is soaked for a time in water; the
water is then given to the sick man to drink, or is rubbed gently upon
the part of his body which is affected.

“3. _Batu lintar_, or thunderbolt. A small, dark-coloured stone, about an
inch and a half long and a quarter of an inch thick at the base, tapering
to a sixteenth of an inch at the point, curved, and rather like a very
small rhinoceros horn, and highly polished. It was probably the same
kind of stone as that of which the stone implements found in the Malay
Peninsula are made, which is also called _batu lintar_. It is pressed
firmly against the body wherever pain is felt.

“4. _Batu nitar_, another name for thunderbolt. A minute, four-sided
crystal, half an inch long and about two lines thick. A charm to be used
only in extreme cases. It is dipped in water and then shaken over the
patient. If he starts when the drops of water fall upon his body he will
recover, otherwise he will die.

“5. _Batu krang jiranau_, or petrified root-stock of _jiranau_ (a
zingiberad?). They told us this is the Dyak name of a kind of wild
ginger. The word is curiously near to _jerangau_, or _jeringu_,
which Ridley says is _Acorus calamus_, ‘a plant much used by native
medicine-men’ (Wilkinson, ‘Malay-English Dictionary’). The thing so
called was possibly part of the backbone of some animal, bent double and
the two ends tied together, each vertebra brown and shining after long
use. A charm for dysentery and indigestion, and also for consumption.
It is dipped in oil and rubbed on the patient’s body in a downward
direction.

“6. _Batu ilau_, or sparkling stone, also called _batu kras_, or the
hard stone. A six-sided crystal, two inches long and three-quarters of
an inch thick. One end appeared to have been formerly stuck into some
sort of handle, as it was covered with _malau_, or lac. This is the
indispensable sight-stone to be looked into for a view of that which is
future, or distant, or otherwise invisible to the ordinary eyes. It is
specially used by _manangs_ for discovering where the soul of the sick
man, wandering away from the body, is concealing itself, or for detecting
the particular demon who is causing the illness.

“There were also, jumbled up together at the bottom of the bag, a number
of tusks of wild boar, pebbles, and other rubbish, but these were
pronounced to be _utai ngapa_—things of no importance. One article that
we hoped to find was absent. Dasu said he should be glad indeed to have
it, but it had never come in his way. It is the _batu burung endan_, or
pelican stone. He explained to us that this is a stone which has the
magical power of securing the presence and co-operation of a spirit who
dwells in the form of the _endan_ (_Pelicanus malaccensis_). When the
_manang_ is seeking to enter _Sabayan_, the spirit-world, in search of
the errant soul of a sick man, this demon can insure to him a swift and
unimpeded passage thither and back again.

“While Dasu was telling us the story of his vision of the tortoise spirit
who gave him the _batu bintang_, I watched his face carefully for any
sign that he believed or did not believe his account. I could not be
sure, but I am inclined to think he did not. He seemed relieved when we
had finished our examination of his possessions, and he could pack them
all up and carry them off to the security of his own dwelling.

“Several similar collections of charms have at different times been given
to me, obtained from _manangs_ who have become Christians, but it was
particularly interesting to me to have a set actually in use exhibited
and explained by their owner.”

The Dyak medicine-man, either by means of medicines, or by the use of
charms, or by his incantations, is supposed to be able to cure all
diseases. But, as I have said, the two terrible epidemics of cholera and
smallpox are beyond his powers. No witch-doctor will approach any case of
these, however well he may be paid.

So great is the fear of the Dyaks for either of these diseases that, when
a man falls ill of cholera, all his friends desert the house in which he
is, and he is left to manage for himself. In the case of smallpox those
who have already had the disease may stop and nurse their friends, but
the others all leave the house and build for themselves shelters in the
jungle. Very often people die of smallpox or cholera simply because they
are too ill to cook food, and have no one to attend to their wants.

When there is smallpox or cholera in the country, the Dyaks plant by the
path leading to the house a post with a cross-bar attached to it. This is
to show others that they may not come up to the house. To disregard such
a signpost is punishable according to Dyak law.

When I was stationed at Temudok, very early one morning, I heard someone
calling out from the landing-stage by the river-bank. I got out of bed,
and went to the veranda and shouted out to the man that he was to come
to the house if he had anything to say to me. He came half-way up the
hill, and then said that he was afraid to come any nearer. There were
two men dead of smallpox in his boat, and many others ill. Some of the
Dyaks in the boat were Christians whom I knew, some were not. We had a
conversation as to what it was best to do under the circumstances. The
first thing was to bury the two dead bodies. I had many planks, as the
carpenters were still at work at the Mission House, and two coffins were
soon made, the dead bodies placed in them and buried.

But what was to be done with those in the boat who were ill? I could not
have them at the Mission House, because the schoolboys lived there, and
also one room was used for services which the Christian Dyaks in Temudok
attended. I remembered there was a small Dyak house a little way up-river
which had been deserted not long before, and I told the Dyaks to take the
sick to that house, and I promised to supply them with food and anything
else they might require. Three of the crew were well, but there were
eight who had smallpox.

I sent a message up-river to the friends and relatives of these men,
and asked them to come themselves or send others to nurse them. I was
very much disappointed to find that only two women came in reply to
my request. The Dyaks are so afraid of smallpox that even those who
had already had smallpox, and need not have feared infection, were not
allowed by those who lived with them to nurse a suffering relative.

I shall never forget the first time I went to see these smallpox
patients. They lay in a row in the open veranda of the Dyak house—a
miserable sight. Plates of rice had been placed by them which they were
not able to eat. I had the place swept and cleaned, and the food taken
away. I took them some condensed milk and sugar, as well as other food.

Two of their number died; the others recovered. Before they returned
to their homes they came to me. I had them disinfected, burnt up their
clothes and mats, etc., and gave them each a piece of cloth for clothing.
I am glad to say they did not take the infection to their houses.

CHAPTER XV

DYAK RELIGION

    Certain religious observances—_Petara_, or gods—Singalang
    Burong, the god of war—Pulang Gana, the god of
    the soil—Salampandai, the maker of men—_Mali_, or
    taboo—Spirits—Girgasi, the chief of evil spirits—The dogs
    of the spirits—Stories—Customs connected with the belief in
    spirits—Sacrifices—_Piring_ and _ginselan_—The victim of the
    sacrifice generally eaten, but not always—Material benefits
    expected by the Dyaks by their religious ceremonies—_Nampok_,
    a means of communicating with spirits—_Batu kudi_, “stones of
    wrath”—Belief in a future life—Conclusion.

The Dyaks have no special forms of worship, nor do they build temples in
honour of their gods, and yet they certainly have a religion of their
own. They believe in certain gods and spirits, who are supposed to rule
over different departments of life, and they have certain religious
observances which may be classed as follows:

1. The killing and eating of fowls and pigs offered in sacrifice, of
which a portion is set aside for the gods.

2. The propitiation of gods and spirits by offerings of food.

3. The use of omens and augury.

4. The singing of long incantations to the gods and spirits on certain
occasions.

The Dyaks have only one word, _Petara_, to denote the deity, and there
is no literature to appeal to in order to explain this word. We have to
depend upon what the Dyaks can tell us themselves, and also upon what
we can gather from the different _pengap_—long incantations made on such
semi-sacred occasions as the offering of sacrifices at feasts. These
_pengap_ are handed down from generation to generation by word of mouth.
Some Dyaks have good memories, and are able to learn and repeat them.

The general idea is that there are many _Petara_, but the whole subject
is one upon which Dyaks have very hazy ideas. They cannot give a
connected and lucid account of their belief. They all admit, however,
that the _Petara_ are supernatural beings, who are invisible and have
superior powers.

But their conception of gods is a very low one, and this is not to be
wondered at, because, as is well known, the grosser the nature of a
people, the grosser will be their conception of a deity or of deities. We
can hardly expect a high and spiritual conception of gods from Dyaks in
their present intellectual condition. Their _Petara_ are most human-like
beings. They are represented as delighting in a “feast of rice, and pork,
and venison, cakes and drink,” just as the Dyaks themselves do; and yet
they are the beings who can bestow the highest blessings the Dyaks can
desire!

Although the conception of _Petara_ is not an exalted one, yet he is a
good being, and no evil is attributed to him. He is always on the side of
justice and right. The ordeal of diving is an appeal to _Petara_ to help
the innocent and overthrow the guilty. He is supposed to be angry at acts
of wickedness, and I have often heard a Dyak say that he dare not commit
some particular crime, because he fears the displeasure and punishment of
_Petara_. He may be able to hide his wickedness from the eyes of man, but
not from the _Petara_.

There are a large number of gods mentioned by name in the Dyak
incantations, but the following are the most important deities:

Singalang Burong takes the highest position in honour and dignity, and
is the ruler of the spirit-world. He stands at the head of the Dyak
pedigree, and they trace their descent from him, for he is believed
to have once lived on earth as a man. It is doubtful what the word
_Singalang_ means, but _Burong_ means “bird,” and probably _Singalang
Burong_ means “bird chief.” The Dyaks are great observers of omens, as
is noticed in Chapter XII., and among their omens the cries and flight
of certain birds are most important. All these birds are supposed to be
manifestations of the spirit sons-in-law of Singalang Burong, who is
himself manifested in the white and brown hawk which is known by his name.

Singalang Burong is also the god of war, and the guardian spirit of brave
men. He delights in fighting, and head-taking is his glory. When Dyaks
have obtained a human head, they make a great feast in his honour and
invoke his presence. He is the only god ever represented by the Dyaks
in a material form. It is a carved, highly-coloured bird of grotesque
shape. This figure is erected on the top of a pole thirty feet or more in
height, with its beak pointing in the direction of the enemy’s country,
so that he may “peck at the eyes of the enemy.”

Next in importance to Singalang Burong is Pulang Gana. He is the tutelary
deity of the soil, and presides over the rice-farming. He is an important
power in Dyak belief, and to him offerings are made and incantations are
sung at the _Gawai Batu_, the “Stone Feast,” which takes place before the
farming operations begin, and also at the _Gawai Benih_, the “Festival
of the Seed,” just before the planting of the paddy. Upon his good-will,
according to Dyak belief, is supposed to depend their supply of the staff
of life. His history is given in a myth handed down from ancient times
(see p. 300).

Salampandai is the maker of men. He hammers them into shape out of
clay, and forms the bodies of children to be born into the world. There
is an insect which makes at night the curious noise—_kink-a-clink,
kink-a-clink_. When the Dyaks hear this, they say it is Salampandai at
his work. The story goes that he was commanded by the gods to make a man,
and he made one of stone; but it could not speak, and so was rejected. He
set to work again and made one of iron; but neither could that speak, so
the gods refused it. The third time he made one of clay,[1] and this had
the power of speech. The gods, _Petara_, were pleased, and said: “The man
you have made will do well. Let him be the ancestor of the human race,
and you must make others like him.” And so Salampandai began forming
human beings, and is forming them now at his anvil, using his tools in
unseen regions. There he hammers them out, and when each child is formed
it is brought to the _Petara_, who asks: “What would you like to handle
and use?” If it answer, “A sword,” the gods pronounce it a male; but if
it answer, “Cotton and the spinning-wheel,” it is pronounced a female.
Thus they are born as boys or girls, according to their own wishes.

There is a word which is often used by the Dyaks—_mali_. It is difficult
to find an exact English equivalent to the word. We may say it means
“sacred,” or “forbidden,” or “taboo,” but none of these seems to me
to convey the full force of the word _mali_. To the Dyak mind, to do
anything _mali_ is to incur the displeasure of the gods and spirits, and
that means not only misfortune in this world, but for all time. Even the
children seem to dread the word, and the little boy, who is wilful and
disobedient, will at once drop what he has in his hand if he is told it
is _mali_ for him to touch it. There are many things which the Dyaks say
it is _mali_ to do. Often they can give no reason for it except that it
has always been so from ages past.

Most races of mankind believe in the existence of a class of beings
intermediate between deity and humanity. The Dyak is no exception, and he
believes that innumerable spirits, or _antu_, inhabit the forests, the
rivers, the earth, and the heavens; but whereas among other races the
spirits seem to act as mediators between the gods and mankind, this is
not the case among the Dyaks, because they believe that their gods are
actually present in answer to invocations and sacrifices, and that they
visit these human regions and partake of the food given them. With the
Dyaks the distinction between spirits—_antu_—and gods—_Petara_—is very
vague. There are both good and evil spirits. The former assist man, the
latter do him injury. Of the gods no evil is predicated, and so it comes
to pass that the good spirits are closely identified with their gods.

Any unusual noise or motion in the jungle, anything which suggests to the
mind some invisible operation, is at once attributed by the Dyak to the
presence of some spirit, unseen by human eyes, but full of mighty power.
Though generally invisible, these spirits sometimes vouchsafe to mankind
a revelation of themselves. The form they assume in these manifestations
is not anything very supernatural, but either a commonplace human form,
or else some animal—a bird, or a monkey—such as is often seen in the
forests. There is, however, the chief of evil spirits, Girgasi by name,
who, when seen, takes the form of a giant about three times the size of a
man, is covered with rough shaggy hair, and has eyes as big as saucers,
and huge glittering teeth.

There are innumerable stories told by the Dyaks of their meeting with
spirits in the jungle, and sometimes speaking to them. Such stories
generally relate how the man who sees the spirit rushes to catch him by
the leg—he cannot reach higher—in order to get some charms from him, but
he is generally foiled in his attempt, as the spirit suddenly vanishes.
But some men, it is believed, do obtain these much coveted gifts. If a
Dyak gets a good harvest of paddy, it is attributed to some magic charm
he has received from some kindly spirit. Also, if he be successful on
the warpath, he is credited by his fellows with the succour of some
mysterious being from the spirit-world.

The spirits rove about the jungle and hunt for wild beasts, as the Dyaks
do themselves. Girgasi, already mentioned, is specially addicted to the
chase, and is often to be met with hunting in the forest, and when seen
assumes a formidable appearance. There are certain animals which roam
about in packs in the jungle, and are called by the Dyaks _pasan_. These
are supposed to be the dogs that accompany the spirits when they are out
hunting, and they attack those whom the spirits wish to kill. I have
never seen one of these animals, but to judge from the description of
them, they seem to be a kind of small jackal. They will follow and bark
at men, and from their supposed connection with the spirits are greatly
feared by the Dyaks, who generally run away from them as fast as they can.

A Dyak in Banting solemnly told me that one day when out hunting he met a
spirit in human form sitting upon a fallen tree. Nothing daunted, he went
up and sat upon the same tree, and entered into conversation with him,
and asked him for some charm. The spirit gave him some magic medicine,
which would give his dogs pluck to attack any wild pig or deer so long as
he retained possession of it. Having given him this, the spirit advised
the man to return quickly, for his dogs, he said, would be back soon, and
might do him harm. This advice he willingly followed, and hurried away as
fast as he could.

There are some wonderful stories related about meeting the demon Girgasi.
It is said that a man once saw this terrible spirit returning from the
hunt, carrying on his back a captured Dyak whom he recognized. Strange
to relate, the man died the same day on which he was seen carried by the
spirit!

The spirits are said to build their invisible habitations in trees,
and many trees are considered sacred as being the abode of one or more
spirits, and to cut down one of these trees would provoke the spirits’
vengeance. The wild fig-tree (_kara_) is often supposed to be inhabited
by spirits. It is said that one way of testing whether the _kara_ tree is
the abode of spirits or not is to strike an axe into it at sunset, and
leave it fixed in the trunk of the tree during the night. If the axe be
found next morning in the same position, no spirit is there; if it has
fallen to the ground, he is there and has displaced the axe!

The tops of the hills are favourite haunts for spirits. When Dyaks fell
the jungle of the larger hills, they always leave a clump of trees at the
summit as a refuge for the spirits. To leave them quite homeless would be
to court certain disaster from them. According to Dyak belief the evil
spirits far outnumber the good ones.

There are many strange customs connected with the Dyak belief in spirits.
As all illnesses are caused by the spirits, it is necessary that these be
propitiated. When there is any great epidemic in the country—when cholera
or smallpox is killing its hundreds on all sides—one often notices little
offerings of food hung on the walls and from the ceiling, animals killed
in sacrifice, and blood splashed on the posts of the houses. When one
asks why all this is done, they say they do it in the hope that when the
evil spirit, who is thirsting for human lives, comes along and sees the
offerings they have made and the animals killed in sacrifice, he will be
satisfied with these things, and not take the lives of any of the people
living in the Dyak village house.

As a matter of fact, this offering of sacrifices to the evil spirits is
a frequently recurring feature in Dyak life. The gods are good, and will
not injure them, and so the Dyaks worship them at their own convenience,
when they wish to obtain any special favour from them. But the evil
spirits are always ready to do them harm, and to take the lives of
victims, and therefore sacrifices must constantly be made to the spirits,
who will accept sacrificial food as a substitute for the lives of human
beings.

From what has been said it will be seen that the spirits are to the Dyaks
not mere apparitions which come and go without any special object, but
have definite power, and can either bestow favours or cause sickness
and death. Therefore they rule the conduct of the Dyak, and receive
religious homage. They are, indeed, a constituent and important part of
Dyak religion.

The sacrifices offered by the Dyaks are of two kinds—_piring_ and
_ginselan_.

The _piring_ is an offering composed of rice cooked in bamboos, cakes,
eggs, sweet potatoes, plantains, or other fruit, and sometimes small live
chickens. If the offering be made in the house these things are put on
a brass dish (_tabak_). If the occasion of the sacrifice requires that
it be offered elsewhere, a little platform is constructed, consisting of
pieces of wood tied together with cane, and fixed on four sticks stuck in
the ground. This is the _para piring_ (the altar of sacrifice), and the
offering is laid on it. It is covered with a rough roof of palm-leaf, and
looks like a miniature native house, and is decorated with white flags.
It is the most flimsy thing imaginable, and soon tumbles to pieces. The
god or spirit is supposed to come and eat the good things provided, and
go away contented. It is no use arguing with the Dyak that he can see for
himself that his offering is eaten up by fowls, or pigs, or boys, who are
full of mischief, and have no fear of spirits. The Dyak says the spirits
eat the soul or spirit of the food; what is left on the altar is only its
outer husk, not its true essence.

I remember when I was staying at Temudok the Dyaks put up a little shed,
with offerings of food, at the landing-place on the bank of the river.
There was an epidemic of cholera at the time, and the spirits of disease
were supposed to eat these offerings and go away contented. Among the
offerings was a little live chicken, that was tied to the _para piring_,
but which managed to get loose. Some of the schoolboys staying with me
asked if they might catch the chicken, which was running about in the
grass, and rear it. I did not like to allow them to do this, because I
thought the Dyaks would resent the boys interfering with their sacrifice.
But my Dyak catechist told me that the Dyaks had done their duty in
making the offerings, and what happened afterwards to the things offered
did not matter. So the boys caught the chicken and reared it. I spoke to
the Dyaks about it afterwards, and they did not seem to mind their “altar
of sacrifice” being robbed of its offering!

In the _ginselan_ there is always some animal slain, and the blood of
the victim is used. The person on whose behalf the offering is made
is sprinkled or touched with the blood to atone for any wrong he may
have done, and the house or farm upon which the blessing of the gods is
desired is also sprinkled with the blood.

This kind of sacrifice is very often offered on behalf of farms, and no
Dyak thinks his paddy will come to maturity without some application of
blood. The fowl is waved in the air over the farm, then it is killed, and
the blood sprinkled over the growing paddy.

When there is an epidemic, the _ginselan_ is often offered to the spirits
of disease, and blood is sprinkled on the posts of the house and on the
ladder leading up to it.

On most occasions the victim of the sacrifice, be it pig or fowl,
is afterwards eaten. But if the sacrifice be to Pulang Gana at the
commencement of the farming, the pig and other offerings are conveyed
with the beating of gongs to the land prepared for receiving the seed.
The pig is killed, its liver and gall examined for divination, the body
and other offerings put in the ground, and some _tuak_ (native spirit)
poured upon them; a long invocation is then made to Pulang Gana, the god
of the land. If a fowl be sacrificed for adultery, its body is thrown
away in the jungle.

For all ordinary sacrifices a fowl suffices, but on great occasions a
pig, being the largest animal the Dyak domesticates, is killed.

Anyone may offer these sacrifices. There does not seem to be among the
Dyaks any priestly order whose duty it is to officiate at religious
ceremonies. Any man who has been fortunate in life, or knows the form of
address to be used to the deities on these occasions, may perform the
sacrificial function.

All that the Dyak hopes to get by his religious ceremonies is material
benefits—good crops of paddy, the heads of his enemies, skill in craft,
health, and prosperity. Even when there is some idea of the propitiation
for sin, as in the slaying of a victim after an act of adultery, the idea
of the Dyak is not so much the cleansing of the offender as the appeasing
of the anger of the gods, because in their anger the gods may destroy
their crops or otherwise give them trouble. There is no idea of seeking
for pardon for the offenders. It is merely a compensation for wrong done,
and a bargain with the gods to protect their material interests.

The longing to communicate with the supernatural is common to all races
of mankind. The Dyak has a special means of bringing this about; he has
a custom which is called _nampok_. To _nampok_ is to sleep on the top of
some mountain, or other lonely place, in the hope of meeting some good
spirit from the unseen world. A cemetery is a favourite place to _nampok_
in, because the Dyaks think there is great probability of meeting spirits
in such places. The undertaking requires considerable pluck. The man must
be quite alone, and he must let no one know of his whereabouts. The
spirit he meets may take any form; he may come in human form and treat
him kindly, or he may assume a hideous form and attack him.

A man _nampoks_ for one of two reasons. Either he is fired with great
ambition to shine in deeds of strength and bravery, and to attain the
position of a Chief, and hopes to receive some charm (_pengaroh_) from
the spirits, or he is suffering from some obstinate disease, and hopes to
be told by some kindly spirit what he must do in order to be cured. It
can easily be understood how the desire would in many cases bring about
its own fulfilment. The unusual surroundings, the expected arrival of
some supernatural being, the earnest wish acting upon a credulous and
superstitious imagination in the solemn solitude of the jungle—all would
help to make the man dream of some spirit or mythical hero.

The Dyak has no temple erected in honour of some god to which, like the
ancients of the Western World, he can make a pilgrimage. He has no altar
before which he can spend the night in order to receive revelations in
dreams, but he goes instead to the lonely mountain-top, or the cemetery
where so many heroes of the past have been buried, and makes his offering
and lies to rest beside it. The circumstances are different, but the
spirit and the object in both cases are the same. The story often told of
a miraculous cure is also similar in each case.

There are certain rocks in different parts of Borneo which are called by
the Dyaks _batu kudi_ (stones caused by the wrath of the gods). A story
is related in connection with each. The following are some of these
mythical stories:—

1. In the bed of the Sesang River there is a rock which is only visible
at the lowest of the ebb-tide. It is called _Batu Kudi Sabar_. The story
goes that in olden days the inmates of a Dyak house tied to a dog’s tail
a piece of wood, which they set alight. They all laughed at the sight as
the dog ran off in fright, dragging after him the burning torch. Suddenly
there was darkness, and a great storm came on. There were thunder and
lightning, and torrents of rain, and the house and its inmates were
turned into this large rock. A family consisting of three persons managed
to escape. They did not join in the laughter at the dog, but ran out of
the house and hid in a clump of bamboo. They saw all that happened, and
told the tale.

2. On the bank of the Krian River just above Temudok is a large rock
called _Batu Kudi Siap_. It is said that the people in a long Dyak house
held a feast to which many invited guests came. An old woman who was
living alone in a farm-hut, and had not been asked to the feast, dressed
up a cat in finery, “like a young damsel going to a feast,” tied a piece
of wood to her tail, and, placing her before the people, said: “Here is
a girl come to you to ask for a light.” The people laughed at the cat.
Instantly there were darkness and a terrible storm, and the house and all
the inmates were turned to stone. A similar tale is told of the _Batu
Kudi_ at Selanjan.

[Illustration: A RIVER SCENE

The illustration shows some native huts by a river which flows through a
cocoanut plantation.]

3. There are _Batu Kudi_ in the Grenjang River, as well as in the Undup
and Batang Ai Rivers, of which the following tale is told: Two girls were
standing in the water catching fish with a fishing-basket (_pemansai_).
A small _emplasi_ fish jumped out of the basket, and hit the breast of
one of the girls. She laughed, and said: “Even my lover would not dare to
touch my breast as you do.” Her companion also laughed at the fish. There
was a storm, accompanied by lightning and thunder, and both girls were
turned into rocks.

4. In the Saribas River there is a _Batu Kudi_, of which the following
tale is told: Some men and boys were watching a monkey crossing the river
on a creeper which hung low down over the water. The tail of the animal
touched the water, and one of them laughed, and said: “The end of his
waist-cloth (_sirat_) is wet; why was he so foolish as not to tie it
round his waist?” At this remark all laughed, and a terrible storm came
on, and they were turned to stone.

There is a similarity about all these stories. In each some animal is
made fun of and laughed at by human beings. This incurs the displeasure
of the gods, whose anger is shown in the same way—a terrible storm,
thunder and lightning, and the turning of the offenders into stone.

There are, however, other _Batu Kudi_ of which different stories are
told, but these are not so common. For instance, in the Skrang River
there are two large black boulders which are said to be a brother and
sister who were guilty of the crime of incest; and in the Sebuyau River
there is a collection of rocks said to be the inhabitants of a whole
village, who were guilty of a serious breach of the law of hospitality,
and refused to give food and shelter to some travellers.

The moral of these mythical tales is good. All sin is displeasing to the
gods, and will meet with deserved punishment, but specially are they
angry when they see human beings ill-treat and ridicule dumb animals.

These _Batu Kudi_ are not worshipped. Offerings of food are sometimes
seen hanging near them, but these are not made to the “stones of wrath,”
but to the gods of whose displeasure they are the testimony.

The Sea Dyak belief in a future life has already been mentioned in the
chapter on Burial Rites. But it is no gloomy Tartarus, nor is it a happy
Elysium, that lies before him. It is simply a prolongation of the present
state of things in a new sphere. The dead are supposed to build houses,
make paddy farms, and go through all the drudgery of a labouring life in
that other world. This future life does not, in the mind of the Dyak,
mean immortality. Death is still the final and inevitable destiny of man.
He may live many lives in different spheres—he may die as often as seven
times—but in the end he becomes annihilated, and absorbed into air, or
earth, or certain jungle plants.

To sum up, the Sea Dyak worships his gods. There are good spirits ready
to help him, and evil spirits eager to harm him. He has omens and
divination and dreams to encourage or warn him. The traditions of his
ancestors, handed down by word of mouth from generation to generation,
are his authority for his beliefs. He makes sacrifices to the gods and
spirits, and invokes their help in long incantations. He believes he
has a soul which after death will live in another world a future life
differing little from his existence in the flesh.

CHAPTER XVI

DYAK FEASTS

    Four classes of feasts—Preparations—Feasts connected
    with: 1, Head-taking; 2, Farming; 3, The dead; 4, Dreams,
    etc.—House-warming—Social feasts.

The Dyak religious feasts may be divided into the four following classes:

Those connected with—

    1. Head-taking.
    2. Farming.
    3. The dead.
    4. Dreams, etc.

Though the Dyak feasts differ in their aims, there is a great deal
which seems to be common to them all. The social character of all these
feasts seems to be of more importance than the religious aspect, and
the feasting of the guests has more consideration than the making of
offerings to the spirits or gods. In none of these feasts does there
seem to be any real, reverential, religious worship. It is true food is
offered to the spirits, but this is done as the mere observance of an
ancient custom, without any approach to religious reverence. There are
also long incantations made to the higher powers by men selected for that
purpose, who have good memories and can recite in a monotonous chant the
special hymns of great length connected with each feast. But the guests
do not share in it as an act of religious worship. They are generally
sitting round, talking and laughing and eating. While these incantations
are sung, topics of common interest are discussed and plans formed, and
in all these feasts sociability, friendship, and the partaking of food
and drink seem to take a more prominent place than any religious worship.

The preparations for all these feasts are much alike. They extend over
a length of time, and consist for the most part in the procuring of
food for the guests. The young men go to their friends, far and near,
and obtain from them presents of pigs or fowls for the feast, and as
cock-fighting is loved by the Dyaks, they at the same time procure as
many fighting-cocks as possible. The women busy themselves with pounding
out an extra amount of rice, both for the consumption of the guests and
also for the making of _tuak_, or native spirit.

A little before the date fixed for the feast a great _tuba_ fishing takes
place, by which means a great amount of fish is generally obtained,
salted, and kept for consumption at the feast. The men go out into the
jungle to hunt for pig and deer.

The special characteristics and religious aspect of the different feasts
must now be noticed.

1. FEASTS CONNECTED WITH HEAD-TAKING.—All these are given in honour of
Singalang Burong. He is supposed to be the ruler of the spirit-world
and the god of war. These feasts are not held so frequently as those
connected with farming, but when any of them take place a great deal is
made of the event.

[Illustration: COCK FIGHTING

A rehearsal. Two Dyak youths matching their cocks in friendly contest.]

1. _Gawai Burong_ (the “Bird Feast”), or _Gawai Tenyalang_ (the “Hornbill
Feast”), or _Gawai Pala_ (the “Head Feast”). This feast, which is known
by different names, is the most important of Dyak feasts, and lasts three
days, whereas other feasts last only one day. In this feast food is given
to the human heads taken in war. In the old days, it was only held on the
return from a successful war expedition, when the heads of the enemy were
brought home in triumph. But in the present day, this feast is organized
when the people of the Dyak house get a good harvest and wish to have it.

Among the preparations for this feast is the making of the _tenyalang_,
a carved wooden figure of the rhinoceros hornbill. Some men carrying
offerings, and others beating drums and playing musical instruments, go
to the jungle and select a suitable tree. At the foot of it the offerings
are placed, and some fowls are killed and the blood sprinkled on the
ground to propitiate the spirits. The tree is felled, and a portion
of it, which is to be carved, is taken to the Dyak house, where it is
received with much rejoicing.

This wood is given to the men who are to carve it into the desired shape,
and each man has the necessary tools given him. When he has finished
his work, he keeps these tools, and, in addition, receives some other
payment. The number of carved birds differs according to the number of
the people in the house who are of importance, and have taken heads in
warfare.

The _tenyalang_ are not an exact copy of the hornbill, but are
elaborately and fantastically carved and gorgeously painted in many
bright colours.

Some men go into the jungle and cut down _belian_ trees to make poles on
which the figures of the rhinoceros hornbill are to be set up. These are
of different lengths, according to the rank of the person who intends to
use it, the man of greatest importance having the longest pole.

The first day of the feast is spent in completing the carving and the
colouring of these _tenyalang_ and making other final preparations. The
guests are entertained with food and drink. As Dyak hosts are considered
niggardly if there is no drunkenness at a feast, the young men are
encouraged to drink as much as possible. The Dyak girls, who do not drink
themselves, serve out the _tuak_, or native spirit. They hand a cup of
liquor to a man and shout, “_Weh! Weh!_” as he drinks it. When he has
finished it, he puts the cup down by his side to take home with him when
the feast is over. Another full cup is handed to him in the same manner,
and he goes on drinking until he is unable to do so any longer. A group
of young men seated in the public hall of the Dyak house surrounded by
gaily-dressed girls serving them with drink is not a pleasant sight. The
noise and confusion are great, as many are drunk. Plates containing cakes
and other delicacies, as well as rice cooked in bamboos, are handed round
to the men, women, and children at short intervals.

A rather pretty ceremony takes place on the first day of the feast.
A number of women dressed in their best garments and wearing all the
jewellery and ornaments they possess, walk in single file, holding in
their hands plates of yellow rice and paddy. They are led by a Dyak
dancer in full war-dress, armed with sword and shield, and dancing to the
accompaniment of musical instruments. The women sprinkle the paddy and
yellow rice on the assembled guests as they walk slowly the length of the
whole house.

[Illustration: THREE DYAK GIRLS DRESSED IN THEIR FINERY TO ATTEND A FEAST

The girls on the right and left wear collars worked with beads and
coloured threads. They are all wearing ear pendants and belts made of
silver coins.]

On the second day of the feast the painted figures of the rhinoceros
hornbill are first of all _timanged_, or sung to in a monotonous manner.
This is looked upon as a kind of consecration of them. They are now
ready to be fixed on the top of the poles which are planted in a row.
Sacrifices are made to Singalang Burong, whom these figures are supposed
to represent. Balls of rice are thrown up to these carved _tenyalang_,
and the blood of pigs and fowls is shed in honour of the great Singalang
Burong, the god of war and the inspirer of bravery. When seen, this god
takes, as I have said, the form of the white and brown hawk so common in
Borneo. Why the figure made to represent him is that of the rhinoceros
hornbill, and not that of the hawk, is an inconsistency for which the
Dyaks have no explanation.

Some human heads are placed in large brass dishes in the public hall of
the Dyak house, and to these offerings of food and drink are made. Some
of this food is stuffed into the mouths of these heads, and the rest is
placed before them.

There are also certain erections called _pandong_ put up at regular
intervals in the long public veranda, and to these are hung war charms
and swords and spears, etc. The men who are to make the incantations
walk up and down, going round the _pandong_ and the heads in the brass
dishes, singing the particular _pengap_, or incantation, which is used
at this feast. There are generally two principal singers, each of whom
is followed by five or six others. The leaders sing in turn a few lines,
and the rest join in the chorus at the end of each verse. The leaders are
dressed gaily, and have, in addition to their Dyak dress, a long coat
reaching to the ground. They all hold long walking-sticks in their hands
and stamp their feet as they walk along.

This song of the head feast takes the form of a story setting forth
how the mythical hero Klieng held a head feast on his return from the
warpath, and invited the god of war, Singalang Burong, to attend it. It
describes at great length all that happened on that occasion. The singing
of this song takes up the whole night. It begins before 8 p.m., and lasts
till next morning. Except for a short interval for rest in the middle of
the night, the performers are marching and singing all the time.

On the third day the people go out on the _tanju_, or open-air platform,
in front of the Dyak house. They take with them offerings of food and
drink and a live pig. The mats are spread out, and the guests sit down,
and food is handed round to them. The men of rank and those who have
distinguished themselves in battle sit together, and the oldest of these
is asked to make the offering to Singalang Burong. The drums are struck
in a particular manner called _pepat_; the pig is killed as a sacrifice,
and the liver examined to find out whether good or bad fortune is in
store for them. The people shout together (_manjong_) at short intervals
until a hawk is seen flying in the heavens. That hawk is Singalang
Burong, who has taken that form to manifest himself to them. He has
accepted their offerings and has heard their cry. The ceremony is over,
and the crowd return into the house. The guests go back to their homes
after feasting and drinking liberally for three days and nights.

(2) _Gawai Ijok_ (the “_Ijok_ Feast”): The _ijok_ is the gamuti palm
from which the native drink _tuak_ is obtained. When a man has held
the hornbill feast several times, and has been successful against the
enemy, this feast sometimes takes place. The special characteristic of
this feast is that a long pole is set up, and at the top of it a jar of
native spirit (_tuak_) is placed. Incantations and offerings are made to
Singalang Burong as in the former feast.

(3) _Gawai Gajah_ (the “Elephant Feast”): This feast can only be held by
a war leader who has been particularly successful against the enemy, and
has succeeded in obtaining a large number of heads. It is of so great
importance that the Dyaks say that, after this feast has been held, no
other need be held in honour of any new heads that may be brought into
the house. It is very rarely observed in modern times. The last was
held some fifteen years ago by Kinching, a Skrang Dyak living in the
Undup. Offerings and incantations are made to Singalang Burong as in the
_Tenyalang_ feast. The wooden figure of an elephant is placed on the top
of a long pole planted in the ground, and to this figure offerings are
made.

2. The three principal FEASTS CONNECTED WITH FARMING are the _Gawai
Batu_, the _Gawai Benih_, and the _Gawai Nyimpan Padi_.

(1) _Gawai Batu_ (the “Stone Feast”): This feast takes place before the
farming operations begin, and is in honour of Pulang Gana, the god of
the land, who lives in the bowels of the earth, and has power to make
the land fruitful or unfruitful. In this feast invocations are made to
this god, and he is asked to give them a good harvest. The whetstones
and farming implements are placed in a heap in the veranda of the Dyak
house, and offerings are made to the whetstones with a request that they
may sharpen their tools and thus lighten their labours. After the feast
is over the whetstones are taken to the different farms, and the work of
cutting down the jungle for planting begins.

(2) _Gawai Benih_ (the “Seed Feast”): This feast is held just before
sowing. The seed is placed in baskets in the public part of the Dyak
house, and Pulang Gana is asked to bless it and make it fruitful.

(3) _Gawai Nyimpan Padi_ (the “Feast of Storing the Paddy”): This is held
after the reaping and winnowing are over and the paddy is ready to be
stored in the paddy-bins in the loft of the Dyak house. It is only held
when the harvest is a particularly good one. A blessing is asked upon
the paddy, that it may last a long time, and may not decrease in any
mysterious way. Friends who are invited to the feast help to carry and
store away the paddy.

3. The great FEAST CONNECTED WITH THE DEAD is the _Gawai Antu_ (the
“Spirit Feast”): No definite period is fixed for the celebration of it,
and it may be held one or more years after the death of the person. All
those that have died since the last time the feast was held, and have not
yet been honoured by this festival for the dead, are remembered at the
same time, so that the number of departed spirits commemorated by this
feast is great, especially if it is many years since the last time the
feast was held.

The preparation is carried on for many weeks. Food and drink and other
things are procured. Distant friends are visited and asked to help
the feast with gifts of food or money. When all is ready, the whole
neighbourhood for miles around is invited to it. It is an opportunity for
a friendly social gathering, and it is a formal laying aside of mourning,
but in addition, it is a religious ceremony, and means the doing of
certain things necessary for the final wellbeing of the dead in the other
world.

The dead are invoked and invited to be present at this feast. But how
are they to come from Hades? Send a boat for them, says the Dyak, and so
he sends what he calls a _lumpang_. A piece of bamboo in which rice has
been cooked is make into a tiny boat and sent to Hades. Actually it is
thrown away beneath the house, but spiritually, through the incantation
of the wailer, it is carried to the unseen realm to fetch their dead
relatives and friends. Great is the joy of the spirits when they see this
boat, which by the time of its arrival has grown into a large war-boat.
They are ready to start as soon as the final summons comes.

The preparations for the feast go on. The hard wood memorial monuments
for the graves are got ready by the men. The day before the feast, the
women weave, with finely-split bamboo, small imitations of various
articles of personal and domestic use, and these are hung over the
graves—that is to say, given to the dead for their use in the other
world. If it be a man for whom the feast is made, a bamboo gun, a shield,
a war-cap, and such things are woven; if a woman, a loom, a fish-basket,
a winnowing fan, etc.; if a child, toys of various kinds.

An offering of food is put outside the house for the dead visitors who
may be too hungry to wait for the food in the house.

The living guests arrive during the day, but the feasting does not begin
till the evening. Before the feasting comes the formal putting off of
mourning. The nearest male relative of the dead person in whose honour
the feast is held comes dressed in an old waist-cloth or trousers. These
are slit through by some Chief, and the man assumes a better garment.
In the case of female relatives the _rotan_ rings round the waist are
cut through and set aside, and they resume the use of their personal
ornaments and jewellery. The bundles containing the finery, that were put
away at the death of their relative, are brought forth, and the string
tying them cut through. As the feast is in honour of several who have
died since the feast was last held, this kind of thing goes on in several
of the rooms at the same time.

The professional wailer sings her song of mourning (see p. 228),
beginning in the evening. The journey from Hades is so long that the dead
do not arrive till early dawn. And then occurs an action in which the
dead and living are supposed to join. A portion of _tuak_ (rice spirit)
has been reserved in a bamboo as the peculiar portion of the dead. It
is now drunk by some old man renowned for bravery, who is not afraid of
so near a contact with the spirits of the dead. This “drinking of the
bamboo,” as it is called, is an important part of the festival, and is
greeted with shouts of joy.

The morning after the feast, the last duty to the dead is performed. The
ironwood monuments, the bamboo imitation articles, and food of all kinds
are arranged upon the different graves. Having received these gifts,
the dead relinquish all claim upon the living, and depend on their own
resources. But before the _Gawai Antu_ they are supposed to come to the
house and take their share of the food and drink.

According to ancient custom, this feast could not be held until a new
human head had been procured, but this ghastly ornament to the festival
has now generally to be dispensed with.

4. A superstitious people like the Dyaks, living in constant dread of
unseen powers, naturally hold a feast whenever anything unusual takes
place. As the gods and spirits are supposed to communicate their wishes
to human beings by means of dreams, it naturally follows that if a man
dreams that some spirit is hungry and asks for food, at once a feast
is held, and offerings made to that spirit. As the omens of birds are
observed and obeyed by the Dyaks, and the special omen birds are looked
upon as sons-in-law and messengers of the great god Singalang Burong,
when a bird of ill omen comes into a Dyak house, the Dyaks hold a feast
and make offerings to the gods and spirits. When a man has recovered from
a long and dangerous illness, very often a feast is held to thank the
spirit of disease for leaving them, and to beg him to stay away a long
time. Also when a valuable jar (_tajau_) is brought into a house a feast
is often made in its honour.

In addition to all these feasts, there is the _Gawai Mandi Rumah_. This
is a kind of house-warming, and is held when the Dyaks go into a new
house. Offerings are made to the gods and spirits, and a blessing is
asked upon the new house, so that those who live in it may have good
crops, good health, and live happily together.

The Dyaks also sometimes hold feasts which are social gatherings for
eating and drinking, and have no connection with any religious idea.
These are called _Makai di ruai_ (“eating in the hall”), or _Makai rami_
(“eating joyfully in large numbers”).

CHAPTER XVII

SPORTS AND AMUSEMENTS

    Dyak games—Football—War Dance—Sword Dance—Dyak
    music—Cock-fighting—Tops—“Riding the tidal
    bore”—Swimming—Trials of strength.

At certain times of the year the Dyaks are very busy at their farms, and
go to work early in the morning, and do not return till late at night.
But they have their slack times, when there is not so much work to be
done, and then they have plenty of opportunity to indulge in games.

They do not seem to have a large variety of pastimes. The following are
those most popular among them.

Football is played by the Dyaks in a curious manner. The players stand
in a circle about four yards from each other, the size of this circle
varying according to the number of the players. The ball is kicked in
the air by the player to whom it falls nearest. This kicking is done
in a curious manner with the sole of the foot. A party of good players
will keep a ball in the air for several minutes, each player kicking it
upwards just as it is about to fall, or as it bounds upwards from the
ground. The ball itself is a light hollow one of rattan open-work, and is
about the size of a croquet-ball.

The Dyaks are fond of dancing, and at their feasts and on other
occasions when many are met together, they will keep it up for hours to
the thumping of drums and the beating of brass gongs. They have a musical
instrument of bamboo, like the pan-pipe (_engkrurai_), to which they
sometimes dance; but the usual music on such occasions is a row of small
brass gongs (_engkrumong_), placed on the ground, and beaten with two
sticks, also large brass gongs, and a variety of drums.

The two popular dances are the Sword Dance and the War Dance, both of
which are danced by the men. It is very rarely that the women dance. I
am told that they only do so when a fighting-party have been successful,
and return with a human head which has been taken in war. Then the
women, dressed up in all their finery, go to the landing-stage where the
war-boat is, and as the head is taken to the house the women dance around
it singing a monotonous chant.

The _Mencha_, or Sword Dance, is danced in the following manner: Two
swords, or in their place two sticks, are placed on the mat, and the two
dancers commence from the opposite ends, turning the body, clapping the
hands, and extending the arms, lifting their feet and planting them down
in grotesque but not ungraceful attitudes. For a few minutes they posture
and move in leisurely manner round and round about; then they seize the
swords, and pass and repass each other, now cutting, now crossing swords,
retiring and advancing. Sometimes one kneels as though to defend himself
from the attacks of his adversary. The main idea of this Sword Dance
seems to be the posturing in different attitudes, and not so much the
skill displayed in fencing. Those are considered the best dancers who,
according to Dyak ideas, are the most graceful in their movements. I have
often watched a Dyak Sword Dance where neither has touched the other
with his sword, the movements having been so leisurely that there has
been plenty of time to ward off each attack.

The dance seems quite in keeping with the Dyak surroundings, and the
whole effect of it is very striking. The long veranda of the Dyak house
dimly lighted up by _damar_ torches; the pretty silver tones of the small
row of brass _enkrumong_ struck by two sticks in fast measure; the deep
tones of the large brass gongs; the numerous noisy drums; the crowd of
spectators standing, sitting, or kneeling; the screams of encouragement
to the dancers; the evolutions of the two performers—all help to form a
weird and striking scene.

The _Ajat_, or War Dance, is danced by one man. He is generally fully
armed with sword, and spear, and shield. He acts in pantomime what is
done when on the warpath. The dancer begins by imitating the creeping
through the jungle in cautious manner, looking to the right and to the
left, before and behind, for the foe. The lurking enemy is suddenly
discovered, and after some rapid attack and defence a sudden plunge is
made upon him, and he lies dead on the ground. The taking of the head of
this invisible enemy in pantomime now follows. A great deal of liberty
is allowed the dancer, and the dances are very varied. Sometimes the
dance ends with the defeat and death of the dancer. The last agonies of
the dying man are too closely and painfully depicted to be altogether
pleasant to watch.

[Illustration: COCK FIGHTING

Sometimes at feasts cock fighting takes place in the veranda of the Dyak
house. At other times it takes place on the ground outside. Here two
Dyaks are matching their cocks against each other, while a crowd of men
and boys stand around.]

The musical instruments which accompany the War Dance are much the same
as those used for the Sword Dance. There are the _engkrumong_, or row of
little brass gongs, the large gongs, and a variety of drums. But the
music is in different time, the music for the War Dance being quicker
than that for the Sword Dance.

Cock-fighting is a very favourite amusement of the Dyaks, and is
indulged in to a great extent at all their feasts. In fact, one of the
preparations for a feast is for the inmates of the house to go round to
their friends and beg for as many fighting-cocks as they can. The cocks
have artificial steel spurs, which are very sharp.

Spinning tops is a favourite amusement, not only of the children, but
also of grown-up men. They generally divide themselves into two sides.
One side spin their tops, and the other party, standing at a given
distance, aim at the spinning tops with their tops. Great skill is shown
in the manner in which a man often hits a top, driving it far away, and
leaves his top spinning in its place.

The Dyaks are very much at home on the water, and a favourite amusement
of the Dyaks at Banting was to “ride the tidal bore.” During the
spring-tides, when there was a tidal bore, they would paddle down the
river some distance, and wait for the turn of the tide. When the bore
came, they would get just in front of it, and the great wave would send
the boats up-river at a good pace without any paddling on their part. Of
course, a great many boats were often swamped, but that only added to the
fun. When I was stationed at Banting, the schoolboys often asked to be
allowed to “ride the bore.”

The Sea Dyaks seem to acquire naturally the art of swimming. They are
taken to the water regularly from infancy, and dipped and floated on the
water, and at an early age they are able to swim. They swim hand over
hand. They never take “a header” in diving, but jump in feet foremost.

The Dyaks are fond of wrestling, and many of them are good wrestlers. At
a Dyak feast very often the young men have friendly wrestling matches.
They have also other trials of strength. Two young men sit on the ground
opposite each other, feet placed against feet, and a stout stick is
grasped by both their hands. Each then tries to throw himself back, so as
to raise his adversary from the ground either by main strength or sudden
effort. Another trial of strength is to put two fingers of one opponent
against two fingers of another, the elbows being placed upon a table or
log; then each party tries to force the other’s fingers backward. Or
else two stand up face to face, and each grasps the two first fingers of
his opponent, holding his arm up, so that their hands are the same level
as their faces, and they each try by main force to lower the arm of the
other.

The Dyaks are very fond of jumping, and at Banting, in the cool of the
evening, the young men, returning with me from Evening Prayer in church,
would often try the long-jump or high-jump near the Mission House.

They also play a game called _galangang_, not unlike prisoners’ base. The
players divide themselves into parties, and one party is set to watch
certain lines which the other party cross. If anyone is touched as he
crosses a line, his side loses, and has to do the watching.

The evening amusements are listening to some story, either set to verse
and sung, or simply told in prose, and the asking each other riddles.
These riddles are generally rhyming verses.

CHAPTER XVIII

SONG AND MUSIC

    Love of music—Love songs—Boat songs—War songs—Incantations at
    Dyak feasts—The song of mourning—Musical instruments.

The Dyaks are very fond of singing, and it is no unusual thing to
hear some solitary boatman singing as he paddles along. Weird beyond
words, and yet possessing a quaint rhythm, are most of the songs of the
Dyak. They give vent to their feelings in their own way, which is very
different from ours, but their plaintive songs are not unpleasant, and
show a certain amount of poetical feeling.

The _pelandai_, or love song, seems to be very popular among the young
men. In it the native singer pours forth his feelings, his sorrows and
disappointments, his hopes and his fears. The music is to our ideas
monotonous, and it is not always easy to understand the meaning of what
is sung, as many archaic expressions are used, and the singer sometimes
calls his love by one name, sometimes by another; at one time she is
spoken of as a bird, and then, in the next line perhaps, the name of some
animal is applied to her. A similar song sung by the women is called
_bedungai_.

They have their boat songs, with which the crew of a long Dyak boat
often enliven the time. The leader sings a verse, and the others join
in the chorus, keeping time with the strokes of the paddle or oar. The
leader often improvises his subject as he sings, and introduces any
little incident that has taken place, or little experience they have gone
through, much to the amusement of his companions.

In their war songs the singer chants in a low monotonous voice the deeds
of heroes in the olden days, and how they won and brought home human
heads to lay at the feet of their brides. These war songs are often
accompanied by the excited whoops and yells of the listeners.

There is the _bernong_, usually sung by two singers, who take it in turns
to sing a verse, and then the chorus is sung by both. This, as well as
the _pelandai_, or love song, may often be heard in the evening in the
long Dyak house.

Then there is the _kana_, in which some legend or fairy-tale is sung by
someone versed in ancient lore, as he sits on a swing in the dimly-lit
veranda of the Dyak house.

Singing also forms part of all their sacred rites. At all their
ceremonial feasts connected with warfare, farming, or the dead, the
incantations, or _pengap_, as they are called, are in the form of Dyak
verse, and sung. These songs differ considerably from the ordinary
language of the Dyak, and a person, who can understand and speak
Dyak, may yet find the _pengap_ most unintelligible. Native metaphor
and most excessive verbosity, together with the use of many archaic
expressions, the meanings of which have long been forgotten, as well as
the introduction of many coined words, which mean nothing, and are simply
dragged in because they rhyme with the words preceding—all these things
are quite certain to mystify an uninstructed hearer. Another reason why
it is so difficult to understand the _pengap_ is that the language used
is that of many generations back. The _pengap_, being learnt by heart,
and handed down with verbal accuracy from one generation to another, is
in the language of the past, whereas the ordinary spoken language of the
Dyak is continually changing and developing new forms. There are a great
deal of alliteration in the _pengap_, a certain peculiar rhythm and a
string of rhyming words.

The presence of invisible beings is very strongly believed by the Dyak,
and he is persuaded that spirits both good and bad are always round him.
As a form of invocation to these spirits, and in all the ceremonial
feasts of the Dyaks, as well as on other important occasions, the
_pengap_ are sung, sometimes by one man seated on a swing, sometimes
by a number of men, who walk up and down the long veranda, dressed in
flowing robes, with a long staff in the right hand of each. From what
has been said it will be easily understood that there are a great number
of different _pengap_ suited to different occasions. In each incantation
some special spirit or deity is more specially invoked.

At the Dyak Head Feast, Singalang Burong—the Mars of Dyak mythology—is
specially invoked to be present in the _pengap_ which is sung. In the
feasts connected with farming, Pulang Gana, the god of the soil, is
invoked, and asked to drive from their farms all rats and birds and
insects that may hurt the paddy. And at the feasts given in honour of
the dead all the spirits of dead relatives and friends, as well as those
of mythical heroes, are invited to partake of the good things provided.
Then, again, when the _manangs_, or Dyak witch-doctors, are called in to
cure a sick man, they often walk round and round the sick man, and chant
a _pengap_, invoking Salampandai, the Great Spirit-Doctor, to come to
their aid, and make their charms efficacious in bringing about the cure
of the sick man.

Some of the Dyak _pengap_ are of great length, and the singing of them
occupies the whole night. The singer or singers begin soon after 8 p.m.,
and go on till early dawn, only resting for about half an hour, two or
three times during the whole night.

The song of mourning is among some tribes sung by a professional wailer,
generally a woman, who is paid to lament the lost, and by her presence
and incantation to assist and guide the soul in its journey to Hades
(_Sabayan_). Her song is begun on the evening of the death, and lasts
the whole night. The sum of it is this:—She blames the different parts
of the house for allowing the soul to depart, and she calls upon bird,
beast, and fish to go to Hades with a message, but in vain, for they
are unable to undertake the journey. Then in despair she calls upon
the Spirit of the Winds to go. At first the spirit is reluctant, but
at the earnest request of the wailer, who calls his wife to her aid,
he at length consents to do her bidding. His journey through forests
and plains, hills and valleys, across rivers and the sea, is minutely
described till night comes on, and, tired and hungry, he stops to rest
for the night. He climbs a high tree to see which is the proper road—on
all sides there are roads: the ways of the dead are very numerous—but all
is dim, misty, and uncertain. In his perplexity, he changes his human
form, and metamorphoses himself into a rushing wind. He soon makes his
presence in Hades known by a furious tempest, which sweeps all before it,
and rouses the sleeping inhabitants. Startled, they ask each other what
is the meaning of this great commotion. The Spirit of the Wind answers
that their presence is wanted in the land of the living. They must go and
fetch a certain man and his belongings who wishes to come to Hades, but
does not know the way, and needs someone to guide him. The dead rejoice
at the summons. In a moment they collect together, get into a long boat,
and paddle hurriedly through Limban, the Dyak Styx. When they arrive at
the landing-place, the dead make an eager rush for the house, and enter
the room of the dead man. The departed soul cries out in anguish at being
thus suddenly and violently carried off, but long before the ghostly
party have reached their abode in Hades, he becomes reconciled to his
fate. Such in brief outline is the song of the wailer. By her song she
has helped to convey the soul to its new home. Without her aid the soul
would be lost, and remain suspended in mid-air and find no rest.

The songs and incantations of the Dyaks are not set to any particular
melody. They are sung to a kind of chant, and long sentences are often
repeated on one note. But they have several distinct settings for the
different songs and incantations, and these seem to suit the subject. The
song of mourning, for instance, sounds very sad and pathetic even to one
who does not understand the language.

The musical instruments of the Dyaks are of a more or less primitive
type, but when played together, the result is not unpleasing. Those
employed as an accompaniment to the Sword Dance or the War Dance are
brass gongs of different sizes and a variety of drums. First there is the
deep-sounding brass _tawak_, the sound of which travels a great distance,
and which, when struck in a peculiar manner, is the danger signal in
times of war. Next in order of importance comes the smaller brass gong
which is called the _chanang_, and lastly the _engkrumong_ of eight small
brass gongs of different sizes arranged in order in a long open box. The
player of the _engkrumong_ has a stick in each hand, and strikes these
different gongs in quick succession.

They have numerous drums of different shapes and sizes. They are made of
different kinds of wood, with deer-skin or monkey-skin tightly stretched
over one or both ends.

The effect of all these instruments of percussion played together is
inspiring, and not at all displeasing. There is no harsh discordant
clanging, as is so often the case in the music of primitive races. There
are different ways of striking the drums and other instruments, and each
of these ways has a distinctive name. The rhythm of the music of the
Sword Dance differs entirely from that of the War Dance, and for each of
these dances there are various different arrangements for the musical
instruments.

Among their wind instruments is the _engkrurai_, which is constructed
of a number of bamboo tubes fixed in an empty gourd, the long stem of
which forms the mouth-piece. All the notes can be sounded together, and
combinations of notes or single notes can be produced from it by shutting
or opening finger-holes placed laterally at the lower end of the bamboo
tubes. There are generally seven bamboo tubes, six of them arranged in
a circle round a larger and longer central one. All seven are furnished
with a reed at the base, where they are inserted into the gourd. Holes
are cut in the six outer pipes for fingering. The central pipe is an open
or drone-pipe, the tone of which is intensified by fixing a loose cap of
bamboo on the upper end. It is played by blowing air into the neck of
the gourd, or by drawing in the breath, according to the effect desired.
The volume of sound is not great, and the music produced is not unlike
that of the Scotch bagpipes played very softly and very badly.

They have a flute, or rather flageolet (_ensuling_), made of bamboo, with
a plug at the mouth-hole. It is blown at the end, and there are three or
four finger-holes, so that different notes can be produced.

Another musical instrument is the _serunai_, or one-stringed fiddle.
The body is half a gourd-shell, the mouth of which is covered up with a
circular piece of soft wood, which is thin and close-fitting, the seams
being cemented with wax. To this is fixed the stock, an arm about two
feet long made of hard wood. The bow is a bent cane, and the string
of the bow a split rattan about a foot in length. The string of this
instrument is of the same material, and there is a peg at the end of
the stock by which the string can be tightened. There is a movable
bridge on the belly of the instrument for the string to rest upon. The
body is sometimes made of half a cocoanut-shell instead of a gourd. The
string has to be wetted before it will sound, and then it gives forth a
monotonous, mournful, dismal sound when the bow is rubbed against it.

The Dyaks also have a four-stringed zither. The strings are made of split