CHAPTER VI
SOME CUSTOMS OF THE KAR NICOBARESE
The Feast of Exhumation—A Scene in the Graveyard—"Katap-hang"—"Kiala"—"Enwan-n'gi"—Fish Charms—Canoe Offerings—"Ramal"—"Gnunota"—Converse with the Dead—"Kewi-apa"—"Maya"—"Yintovna Síya"—Exorcism—"Tanangla"—Other Ceremonies—The "Sano-kuv"—The "Mafai"—The "Tamiluana"—Mafai Ceremonies—Burial—Mourning—Burial Scenes—The Origin of Village Gardens—Destruction of Gardens—Eclipses—Canoe-buying—Dances—Quarrels—"Amok"—Wizardry—Wizard Murders—Suicides—Land Sale and Tenure—Dislike to Strangers—Cross-bow Accidents—Canoe Voyages—Commercial Occupations—Tallies.
Amongst the Kar Nicobarese there are far more customs and ceremonies than I could ascertain during a short visit, but in the following pages an attempt has been made to chronicle all those that came to my knowledge. Many of them were elicited by questioning Mr V. Solomon, the Government Agent on the island, but still more are extracted from his diaries as printed in the Supplements of the Andaman and Nicobar Gazette. For the accuracy, therefore, of much of this chapter, Mr Solomon is responsible.
Of all the observances, customs, and ceremonies of Nicobarese life, that of Kana Awn, where the bones of the dead are exhumed, is perhaps the most important. Literally it is called Ka-al-awn—feast of pigs' flesh.
It is a very laborious and costly festival, commemorated every third or fourth year, with much ceremony commingled of joy and sorrow.
All the islanders cannot observe it at one limited period, nor can the people of one whole village do so conjointly with each other. If a few families of a village commemorate the feast during one year, other families will undertake it at some other convenient year, which will be at a time when their stores are abundant, and after sufficient delay for the bones of their deceased to become denuded of flesh.
The festival is conducted with much expenditure and demonstration, and differs slightly in each village.
It consists of a course of ceremonies continuing from one full moon to another, and commences as follows:—
About ten months prior to the occasion, all the people of a village consult together to fix the festival month, and then inform the rest of the villages, and obtain their promise of assistance. They next send messengers to give notice to all the villages of the island of their intentions, and bear preliminary invitations (mahau-karé). Of these there are two kinds—general and special. The general invitation is given to friends and relatives, that they may join them in the feast and help in various respects. The special invitation is sent by one family of the commemorators of the ceremony to the people of a whole village, that the hosts may give a performance in their house on the occasion. If ten families of a village commemorate the feast, they would invite the people of ten distant villages for this purpose, while those of three adjacent villages would be invited generally.
Their first duty, after sending out invitations, is to make a ñá-kopáh (feast for the dead). Some well-carved wooden poles, fifty or sixty feet in height, with cross battens, are prepared and planted in the ground at Elpanam, and in the village in front of the houses of the commemorators. On these the people hang up varieties of yams and plantains; bundles of sireh leaf; bunches of coconuts, areca-nuts, pandanus, fruit, cheroots, and other eatables to which they are accustomed; in all, about fifty kinds. Below the posts they place teakwood boxes containing new clothes and jewels; bottles of toddy and earthen pots from Chaura, all fenced in carefully. These arrangements are decorated from top to bottom with flags, etc., until they look like Indian processional cars. This work is the occupation of about thirty men for three months. From the day the ñá-kopáh is commenced, the natives are restricted from killing pigs in the village.
On these occasions they take great pains in repairing their cooking huts, erecting new ones, and in making new roads and paths up to the boundaries of their village in every direction. The open ground at Elpanam and the graveyard are also cleared and kept tidy, and in the meanwhile they make every effort to secure sufficient quantities of provisions for the festival. A month before this begins some more ñá-kopáhs, similar to the above, are prepared with fresh eatables, which, however, are not set out until a week before the feast. When this is done, final invitations (mi-nga-la) are sent to all the guests.
Besides this, a week before the opening day kare-yeng-chón (headstones of graves) are made in the following manner:—A well-shaped, round log of wood, about 3 feet long and 9 inches in diameter, having two through holes crossing each other near one end, is prepared and kept in readiness. At the approach of the feast a number of men and women together adorn it by rolling round it a piece of white calico and fringing it with red or blue cloth. Four large soup-ladles are fastened to the holes and to the middle of the log, a cross-shaped iron pike, about 6 feet long, called meráhta, ornamented with many spoons, forks and soup-ladles,[205] is fixed. To it also are attached toys, dolls, and fancy weapons, with other curiosities, which all add to the gorgeous appearance of the object. Some families keep this in the newly-erected cookhouse, others in the open yard. They particularly take the guests and friends to see it in order to show that they are wealthy.
The men then construct, for temporary use, two or three long bamboo cages, with separate enclosures, so that a dozen pigs may be put in each cage. One is built underneath, and the others in front of the house.
Meanwhile, the canoes are decorated, filled with many kinds of provisions, and drawn up in front of the houses.
All this is done with the help of friends from neighbouring villages, who, neglecting their own affairs, willingly come and assist, even bringing with them food sufficient for their needs until the close of the festival.
After all these preparations are completed, there commences the preliminary ceremony called Vani pati (house decoration), which takes place a day before the festival. The interiors of the houses are decorated profusely with coco-palm leaves, goian (Arum) plants, and flags. Bunches of tender coconuts, areca-nuts and plantains are tied all about the posts of the house outside, that the guests may partake at pleasure. Several pieces of chintz, red cloth, and calico are hung from strings in the interior, and beneath the house as well, and the meráhta, with the ornamented canoes, are placed on either side of the ñá-kopáh. The bamboo pig-pens are also decorated, and when all this is completed they kill a pig, sprinkle the blood over all as a sacrifice, and dance and sing around the house, with their guests, for the first time.
Now comes the first act. On the festival evening the people bring, with songs, numbers of pigs from their jungle piggeries, and placing them in the cages, dance before them. Those animals put in the cage beneath the house are merely for exhibition, as a proof of wealth, though, at the same time, they are dedicated to a future festival. In the cages outside are left those pigs that are to be slaughtered for the present occasion, and there is yet another cage in which are confined those brought to them by their friends as a festive gift.
Kiriam Hetpat (dancing in bright light) is the second and chief festival. By eight or nine in the evening, the village is filled with almost the whole of the islanders; a group of one village in one house. The special and general guests assemble in gangs in their respective quarters.
The men are adorned with new loin-cloths of various kinds and colours, with the tá-chökla, or chaplet, and tasses—necklaces made of silver coins.
The women wear necklaces, "ear-distenders," bangles—made by twisting silver wire round arm and leg—and strings of silver coins as head ornaments. A pair of red Madras handkerchiefs, or two yards of red cloth and two of Chinese blue, stitched together, are worn as the principal garment.
Some come already dressed, others bring their attire with them, and don it on the spot.
The special guests bring ten or a dozen pigs of moderate size, as presents to those by whom they are invited. (Here it may be said that the people, although well acquainted in general, never call each other friends promiscuously. Whoever contributes a gift during this festival to another, is alone his true friend. There is a regular agreement about this, and special invitations for any occasion are only given by turns.) The women bring with them baskets of prepared food—pandanus bread, boiled yams, rice—and with this, and with pork presented by the hosts, they refresh themselves during the night.
Dancing and singing then take place. The men give their performance first, and when they are fatigued, they make way for the women, and so it goes on, turn and turn about. The former in their dance go through various motions of sitting, rising, bending, and jumping, but the women only attempt a series of steps.[206] This proceeding continues in the compound of each festival party throughout the night.
In the morning, while dancing still continues, there are brought forward some strong wooden cages, about 4 feet long and 3 feet in height and breadth—some in shape like a palanquin, and some dome-shaped like the houses. These cages are gaily decorated with flags, chintz, and gilt jewellery. On the top of each a platform with curtains is prepared, and on either side stout bamboo poles are fastened. A huge long-tusked boar adorned with jewellery is placed in each cage, and a man, woman, and boy, seat themselves on the platform with a quantity of plantains and betel-nut.
When everything is ready, new red loin-cloth and tá-chöklas are supplied to the guests. Then the cages, with the pigs inside, and with the people upon them, are carried round from house to house in a procession, with singing and dancing, each borne by about forty men or women. Those who are not able to construct a cage, carry, as a substitute, long bamboos, across which the pig, with bound legs, is fastened. As they proceed, betel-nuts and plantains are distributed by those on the cages. In this way they march round the village, and return to the starting-point, viâ Elpanam, the teams of women as they stagger along with their heavy burden giving rise to much amusement.
When the procession is over the natives release the pigs in the cars, as well as nearly all the others, detaining only those that are to be slaughtered on that day for the guests. Then after felling the poles of the ñá-kopáh by cutting them with an axe, 6 feet above the ground, they scatter the food in the jungle and fence the site. The canoes and other articles are broken to pieces and thrown away, and only the meráhta, or iron pike, is preserved, with its decorations, to be made use of later.
Next comes Henghawa, meaning "In return." A dozen or more pigs of ordinary size are distributed by the inviting party to the group of performers. These may kill and eat them on the spot, or take them away to their homes. This present is made in place of giving a feast. The dancing party who receive it would, according to their own numbers, kill a few of the pigs, cut them into pieces, and distribute the flesh among the families of their group. They roast the pieces, eat as much as they like, and take the remaining portions away with them. The pigs that are not killed will also be taken to their village, and will be there reserved for some public occasion. As a rule, the people who receive the present must be ready to give away a similar one in their turn when the same festival occurs in their village.
The spectacle of these people as they depart, men, women, young and old, each with a load of roasted pork either fastened to long sticks, strung on cords, or packed in baskets, affords further amusement.
The general guests—the people of the nearest villages—will remain till the close of the feast to assist the hosts, and to give further performances of dancing and singing every night. They take their share of the food with the commemorators.
With their help the amusements are renewed, and on the following morning the big pigs, which were carried in procession, are slaughtered and cut into long strips, some of which, generally the spinal portions, are suspended at the entrance of the houses, as offerings to the evil spirits, and are there allowed to remain until the next celebration of Kana-Awn. Several pieces will also be distributed to friends and relatives.
Before these pigs are killed it is customary for young men to wrestle with them, and many of them are often so severely gored by the long tusks of the animals that they have to be carried away in litters.
This portion of the festival is called Yeng Awn—the great boar—for each of the animals which are dedicated to the purpose is looked on as a sacred creature, and is offered as a sacrifice in token of the last head of the family who died.
From the remaining portions of pork they separate the fatty part and prepare lard from it by pounding it in a wooden mortar and boiling it down in an earthen vessel. This lard is preserved in coconut shells and eaten with meals like butter. A few shellsfull are presented to those of their friends who have assisted them. This portion of the ceremony is called Wanaka Kuv (making lard), and with the immediately preceding stage lasts for four or five days. Then commences the ceremony of Kisu ta el pati, during which all the decorations of the houses are removed, and dancing and singing take place inside. This is done in order to purify the house.
Next, the practice of Tanang alah (prevention) takes place; and throughout the day the people busy themselves covering the houses and huts in Elpanam with green coco-palm leaves, to prevent pollution by the disinterred bones of next day's proceedings. They take their supper in Elpanam, and dance there all night.
At this point, the climax of the whole is reached in Anúla Kopáh, or Ula Kopáh (digging the graves). The women, children, and others stand at a distance from the graveyard, and one or two of the adults belonging to each of the houses commemorating, open the respective graves, remove the bones, and throw them in an adjoining bush called Tam n'gi Kopáh[207]—burial-place of bones (ossuary). But they replace in the graves the skulls of respected people or heads of families, and after refilling the holes with earth, place over them the new kuimitila or kare-yeng-chón (headstones). Before the skulls are replaced, however, they are sprinkled with the blood of fowls and young pigs.
The men who break open the graves are termed takkuwi (polluted) and when all is over they bathe in the sea, and then spend the night in the "house of pollution," after a period of feasting and dance in the Elpanam, called Kiriam Anúla (digging dance).
Two or three days later the coco-palm leaves are removed from the houses at Elpanam, and another performance is held called Kiriam-nga-rit-roi-ta-oka (dance for clearing up coconut rubbish). Next morning sports and a little wrestling take place.
Finally, the people invite some of the mafais of adjacent villages to give a performance, and entertain them with gifts and feasting. This ceremony is called Afai tapoia, or Mafai tapira—grand mafai dance. When it is concluded some other village is challenged to a canoe race, and a dance and feast follow. With this ends the festival of Kana Awn.
When everything is over they carefully gather together the jawbones of the pigs that have been killed in every house, fasten them to a long rattan, and hang them up in the public building at Elpanam. In this way a comparison is made between past and present wealth, and proof is afforded of the splendour of a ceremony that impoverishes many of the hosts for years to come.
The following is an account of the ceremony of Anúla, or Ula Kopáh, as it was actually carried out in the village of Lapáti on the east coast of Kar Nicobar. It was preceded by the usual festival of Kana Awn.
Of the takkuwis (polluted ones) who were engaged in digging the graves, the men wore white loin cloths and the women petticoats of a similar colour. The graveyard was thickly screened by coco-palm leaves.
All the big houses in Elpanam, and the cooking huts in the village, were so thickly covered with leaves that no breeze could penetrate. A wall of palm leaves and four temporary huts were erected in each corner, that the takkuwis might take refreshment. Several pieces of white calico and Turkey red cloth were kept in these houses for wrapping up the bones. Those graves to be left untouched were covered with white cloth and neatly decorated.
Whilst each grave was being opened one of the tamiluanas stood at the head and fanned it with a bunch of "devil-expelling" leaves, and another man kept in readiness a palm-spathe and piece of white calico. When the grave-digger took out the skull it was cleaned by hand, carefully rolled in the calico, and placed in the spathe; all the other bones were then collected in the same spathe, which was taken away and placed over large yams scattered below the "deadhouse," where it was wrapped and bound with red and white calico. About fifty graves were opened, and the bones similarly treated. A few bundles were reinterred, but the others were taken away to a place called Kofenté (place of pollution), where they were opened, the bones thrown away and the cloth torn to rags.
After this the grave-diggers went to the sea and washed their hands and legs, and a few bathed entirely.
The following is an account of the observance of Katap-hang, or lighting the Elpanam.
For several days a number of young men and women are engaged in cleaning out Elpanam. During this process they are not allowed to touch eatables meant for others, nor may they enter the village, as they are considered polluted while at work. When it is over the women collect all the coconut husks they can obtain, and arrange them in lines about the Elpanam and round the houses in it.[208]
The nuts are set fire to after sunset, and the people pass the night in singing and dancing, in several groups, lighted by the fires. Whenever they feel tired they eat, the proper food for the occasion being land-crabs, which have been collected during the previous week.
A spittoon of palm leaf is placed in the centre of each group, and into it go all the cheroot ends and betel-nut quids, to prevent pollution of the ground of Elpanam, which is now purified and fit for the habitation of spirits.
During the dancing the men cover their loins with a wrapping of plantain leaf, which makes them look like women. The women run about all night keeping the coconut shells alight.
About five o'clock in the morning the performance comes to an end, and then a number of women sweep out Elpanam, collecting the ashes and other rubbish, which are thrown into the sea. The men, with much excitement, take the outriggers from the canoes, and placing some of these under the Elpanam houses, bear others to the village, covering all with palm leaves. All portable property, pots, etc., is taken out of the houses in Elpanam, and, closing the doors, the people march away to the village (only the sick and one or two attendants, and those who dug the last grave, are left behind).
Silence has now to be observed for a month; no fire or light may be seen, and no cheroot smoked in the place: women and children are interdicted from entering, but should they be compelled to do so, they must make no noise, and if at night, must leave their light at the entrance.
The people can give no account of the origin of this observance. Some allude to "custom," and others say that it is because so many spirits visit the place at this season.
Thirty days after the festival concludes, a great feast is given to the spirits, and they are sent back to the jungle.
Canoes are kept beneath the houses for several months, until the festival of Kiala, or fetching food, when they are brought to the beach at Elpanam, caulked, and made ready for use.
On the day of Kiala the men are out all day, with hook and line, fishing. When they return in the evening with their catch, each immediately offers as a sacrifice to the canoe a mixture of chopped fish and other materials, which are made into a paste and applied to the vessel. The fish they have caught are skewered on bamboo and roasted. Those unable to go during the day set out at night with torches prepared for the occasion.
Next day is Anoi-ila, a holiday, and in the morning all assemble in the houses at Elpanam and partake collectively of the roasted fish with other things. Then they sleep till evening, and do no work.
A day following closely is called Enwan-n'gi (fishing again for the children). As a rule, the fish caught on the first expedition is all consumed at the general banquet, but this is taken to the houses and eaten there. A holiday again follows.
To attract fish to their shores it is customary for the villages to erect on the beach at Elpanam, when the sea is calm, a number of long bamboos decorated with leaves, etc. This practice is called Ma-ya-kuv-ka-ma-ka—Papa is going this way to fetch fish. The poles remain for four days, and after they are removed, the large canoes obtained at Chaura are fed (Ngya áp), and fowls are offered to them in sacrifice.
Sacrifice is generally offered to these canoes thrice in each month—on seeing the new moon, at full moon, and on the waning of the moon.
A ceremony called Ramal is held in honour of the safe return of the canoes that periodically make the customary voyages to Chaura for pottery. It consists of feasting, dancing, and singing, as do most of the Nicobarese observances. These songs and dances are composed some time before the events and carefully practised during the interval.
The ceremony of Gnunota is held on behalf of those drowned during this annual voyage to Chaura, and is practised, instead of burial and the ceremony of Kana Awn, on occasions when the bodies are not available.
The death of a Nicobarese when absent is regarded with much greater concern than when such an event takes place at home. This is quite in accordance with European feeling.
A belief that the Chaura men are great exponents of wizardry is deeply rooted throughout the group. One of the Mūs canoes having been lost on the return from that island, the tamiluanas told the people that the Chaura men had a grudge against the people of Mūs, which, however, they did not like to satisfy in the island, but caused the visitors to be destroyed while at sea, by means of the black art, through which a tempest was raised during their return voyage.
The tamiluanas possess the power of conversing with the spirits of the dead, and they informed the village that they had seen this deceased party, who stated that they had perished from hunger, and now wanted meals.
Mūs, therefore, was ordered to offer sacrifice, and accordingly the people contributed spoons, forks, clothes, and silver wire, besides killing pigs and preparing meals in each house.
After the sacrifice (Gnunota) had been made the tamiluanas gave out that all the souls were satisfied with the meals and other things, but that "Davy Jones," the leader of the unfortunate party, was displeased with the offering!
Feasts are partaken of, and sacrifices made in the graveyard, in honour of deceased ancestors, whose spirits sometimes reveal themselves to the tamiluanas. These occasions are called Ma-la-hal.
A series of festivals indulged in begins with a day called Kewi-apa. On this day, the people of Mūs clear a portion of the jungle in the interior, and decorate the spot with palm leaves, bringing from it Síya—the devil—to Elpanam. All the houses at Elpanam, and the space there, are decorated. The people of Arong (a neighbouring village) and Mūs then go there and take part in a performance lasting all night, for which they have practised during the past month. Other villages come as spectators and guests. The next morning there is a feast, at which special materials are pigs and jungle crabs. When it is over, a wrestling match closes the ceremony.
On the third and following days, all the people, and those of the neighbouring villages, are engaged in preparing for the feast of Kial, to which many villages come as guests.
The day preceding the feast of Kial is called Mu-nung-ren, or "day of preparation." Poles are brought from the jungle, tied round the houses at Elpanam, and covered with tender palm leaves, while new cooking places are prepared below each house. The interior of the houses and the compounds are decorated. From sunrise till dark the women are busy preparing kusuhu, a confection of yams, green and ripe plantains, coconut, and oil; and meanwhile, the men sing songs in honour of the large canoes, which, kept for the past month in the interior, are brought to Elpanam, immersed in the sea, and decorated.
Next day is the day of Kial, or "taking food." From morning till night the people are engaged in feasting their guests, in dining together in groups, and in sending to their friends and neighbours kusuhu, pork and fowls.
At midday a cry of supplication is heard from each building—"Let our house be always supplied with abundance of food; let us have many edible gifts from other villages; let there come new women to our village; let us be happy."
This day is one of much rejoicing, for the natives consider the kusuhu one of their greatest delicacies.
Next day is called Anoi-ila—day of rest for the people.
Then, the eighth after Kewi-apa, comes the day Ha-chu, on which they take back the devil to the jungle with more ceremony. Having returned from this, they engage in a hunt, with the aid of dogs, for jungle pigs.
The day following is Anoi-ila; on the next, a second pig hunt takes place; and finally, one more "day of rest" ends the festival.
Maya, or Vani-el-kui, means "top decoration," and for this, long green bamboos are brought from the jungle and encircled with leaves from top to bottom. They are then fixed round the graveyard at Elpanam, to the accompaniment of ceremonies led by the tamiluanas, with spirit exorcising paraphernalia.
During the three days following, the people prepare two large rafts, of canoe shape, and equip them with sails of palm leaf, dry palm leaf torches, and bunches of "devil-expelling" leaves. This work is done by the young men and women, the tamiluanas and other elderly people being engaged, meanwhile, in singing by turns, through night and day, in one of the houses at Elpanam. The tamiluanas frequently come down and walk along the beach with their exorcising rods, and forbid the devil to enter the village.
The fourth day is called Yintovna Síya—expelling the devil by sails. In the evening, the whole of the village assembles at Elpanam with bunches of "devil-expelling" leaves, the women with baskets of ashes in addition.
A number of men, with an escort of tamiluanas, carry one of the floats to the sea, on the right side of the cemetery, and propel it some distance from the shore; when they return, another body of men despatches the other craft from the left side of the graveyard. The bearers, on reaching shore, are supplied with bundles of leaves, and as soon as the vessels reach deep water, the women throw ashes from the shore, and the whole crowd shouts, "Fly away, devil, fly away, never come again." Then all the decorated bamboos are removed, one after another, and all the leaves thrown into the sea; from each bamboo, as it is taken down, the devil is expelled.
Should the canoes sail off toward Chaura, much rejoicing is occasioned. One seems to contain an evil, the other a benignant spirit. The latter may possibly return and inform the tamiluanas that the devil has reached Chaura, and in token of this, there will be found near the graveyard a new Chaura pot, a chicken, a paddle, or similar objects.
If this occurs, there is a day of rejoicing, called Amhai, when pigs and fowls are offered as a sacrifice to the conquering spirit, and a grand feast and dance take place at night.
This is an annual ceremony, commemorated in turn by all the village, but unfortunately, as with their other customs and ceremonies, the islanders, whose knowledge of their origin is limited, can give no clear reason for its inception, although there must be a perfectly adequate one, and state only that they do it because it is "custom."
Festivals called Maya and Inturga are also commemorated to drive the jungle devils into the sea.
One of the most effectual means of exorcising devils is by fanning with leaves. The Mūs racing canoe, having returned to the village soon after a death had taken place there, was not received in the usual manner. Two elderly men who were on the beach, waiting, ran down before the canoe could touch the shore, and hurriedly brushed it, and the men in it, with brooms. They then brought the canoe ashore, and fanned it with coco-palm leaves, so that the dead man's ghost might not take possession.
When the north-east monsoon sets in, the sea is very rough on the east coast, and many people become seriously ill, the result being that there are always a greater number of deaths than usual in that part of the island.
All the villages there situated accordingly take in hand the process of Tanangla, which signifies "support" or "prevention."
In this, they fence Elpanam with palm leaves, and festoon the houses and pathways with various kinds of shrubs and grasses. They also prepare huge images in human form, by twisting palm leaves round logs of wood, and place these about their houses.
An old man lost his teeth, and to celebrate the fact, gave a great feast to a large body of people who came to it from other villages. The giver was adorned with silver wire from head to foot, and made to sit in a kantéra (mafai's chair) in honour of his departed grinders.
A man was bitten by a snake, with serious consequences. When he recovered, he invited his friends to a feast, and performed the ceremony of Ke luing alaa, which consisted in waving a lighted palm-leaf torch round his head.
The natives apparently possess the right to assume various social distinctions at will.
There is a class of men termed Sanokuv which numbers many individuals in its ranks. Sanokuv seems to mean a bashful or delicate person.
These men will not eat any food cooked by others, neither will they use well-water, nor partake of pigs and chickens reared in the village, as they consider these unclean. The water they require they obtain either from a jungle stream, or by collecting rain. They will not drink toddy made from trees near the village, but draw it from distant palms. Everything is partaken of from special vessels; toddy is sucked from a bamboo through a reed, of which the mouth-end is capped with a larger as soon as the drink is finished. They are, however, willing to accept bread, biscuits, and rum from others, but the latter is drunk from a new coconut shell, and never from a glass.
The whole proceeding seems to be a variant of the Hindu institution of caste.
The Mafai is another peculiarity of the Nicobar social organisation.
The Kar Nicobarese take great interest in the creation of mafais, and in conducting mafai performances. They give much of their property, time, and labour to a mafai, and look on him as somewhat sacred. He is a man who, recovering from a serious illness, decides to do no work for some time to come; in fact, he continues to be an invalid, and henceforth neither obtains nor cooks food, but is supported by the community.
The word mah means "sir," and is used to indicate one who is a superior, and is employed as a term of respect towards men and women of some age: the chief of a village, the head of a family, or parents, are styled mah. Fai means "inspired." Mafai therefore means "an inspired man," i.e., a seer.
A person may at the first stage of his recovery from a severe and long-standing illness, or an attack of delirium, inform his relatives that he has received a revelation, and therefore desires to become a mafai. This is communicated to the tamiluanas, and they, as well as other elderly people of the village, assemble in his house, and after making a formal examination, pronounce the verdict, tafuknu chuat—"sunken eyes."
A preliminary ceremony is then performed, called Hanata—"adorning the invalid." They spread round his couch "devil-expelling" leaves from Mal,[209] and decorate the cane wall of the house, at his side, with festoons, tassels, beads, wire, garlands, etc., placing near him spoons, forks, and other electro-plated ware, with a few bottles of toddy.
They twist silver wire about his neck, arms, and legs, and adorn him with necklaces, tassels, breastplate, and armlets, made of silver coins, and then place him in a large decorated chair with a Chinese straw hat on his head. A silver-handled stick (sceptre of the tamiluana) and a small dagger to kill the devil are given him, together with a bottle of toddy, furnished with a hollow reed to suck the liquid through.
He is now proclaimed a mafai, and information is sent to his friends and relatives in other villages, who all come with presents to see the holy man.
From this time forward, until he is thoroughly recovered, the people of his village, with other friends and relatives, provide his food and other necessaries by turns. This they do on a liberal scale.
There is a performance every night in the village, lasting till midnight, during which he sits on a chair in the midst of the ring of dancers, whom sometimes he may join. This exercise is to increase his strength, and he is freely supplied with toddy, as it is considered a tonic.
From time to time his neighbours take him, sometimes spontaneously and sometimes by invitation, from house to house and village to village, in procession, and give performances. Ai-yu-a-kare is one of these, and means "going to a feast adorned with jewels."
He never walks, but is always carried in a kantéra (chair), which in shape resembles a palanquin, covered with chintz and decorated with spoons, forks, and soup-ladles. The chair is borne by a dozen strong men. The spectacle of a returning mafai and his party is extremely comical, for, besides being fatigued by the night's exertions, every one is completely intoxicated.
The people venerate the mafai exceedingly, and take him at midnight to the sick, that he may heal them by touch or by shampooing, when he pretends to extract gravel and stones from the bodies of the invalids.
So matters continue until the mafai considers himself strong enough to work for his living, when, with the approval of the tamiluanas, he resigns his mafai-ship in a final ceremony called Luinj-lare Mafai—undressing the mafai.
The same man may eventually become a tamiluana (one who chases devils), or he may become Yom Ap and Yom Elpanam, i.e., "Grandfather or Guardian of Chaura canoes, and Guardian of Elpanam."
The mafai is a peg on which many festivals and customs are hung. The following ceremony is one as occasionally carried out in the village of Mūs. It is called Amutna Kuv—revealing to the invalid.
The tamiluanas of the village decorate themselves and go to a place called Mal, outside the village, and there clear a certain spot in the midst of thick bush. They take with them a few yards of red cloth, a cage containing a score of fowls, a basket of pork, and other things, and hide all under different bushes at some distance from the cleared spot.
To it, with a number of followers, they lead the mafai in procession, and a dance with singing is held.
While the party in general is dancing, the tamiluanas take the mafai apart to one of the bushes and point out to him one of the concealed articles, telling him that it is a gift miraculously sent him by a deceased relative. All then return and join the dancing party. This action is repeated until all the articles are pointed out to the mafai.
The red cloth is then torn into strips and distributed to the men for loin cloths, and all the other objects are taken to the mafai's house, while afterwards the people renew the singing and dancing for the whole night.
The site in Mal the people consider to be something like Hades, and they believe that the spirits of the dead, immediately after life is ended, take up their abode in it. Consequently they never approach it on ordinary occasions, nor do they gather coconuts from the place, though the palms grow there thickly.
When a person becomes ill, or when it is desired to expel the devil from anyone, the tamiluanas first resort there to consult with their household spirits, or familiars, and to obtain "devil-expelling" leaves.
In the event of their attempts failing, they go to another spot in distant jungle called Passa (a former settlement of the Mūs people), where they suppose the souls of their ancestors sojourn.
The burial ceremony is peculiar, and the whole motif of it seems to be that if the corpse return to the village the ghost will be able to accompany it and haunt the place.
If a death should occur in the village proper, the natives, after conveying the corpse to the "deadhouse" in Elpanam, for fear of the spirit, barricade themselves for a time in their houses, and keep fires burning before the doors.
When a Kar Nicobarese becomes moribund he is taken to the "deadhouse," or "house of pollution," and there left to die, with bunches of "devil-exorcising" leaves about his bed. After the end has come, all friends bring a piece of cotton, in which the corpse is swathed subsequent to being washed in coconut water. It is then lifted by two men and, while kept in an upright position, lowered down the ladder and delivered to a number of friends waiting below, who try to prevent its burial. These, with the intention of returning it to the house occupied in life, attempt to bear it towards the village, but the movement is opposed by the rest of the community, who are in the majority. Much struggling takes place about the corpse, and it is very roughly handled, but at length it is forced towards the burial-ground and flung violently into the grave. Sucking pigs and fowls are then killed, and after blood from them is sprinkled over the body, are placed beneath the arms and legs.[210] The grave is then filled up, and on the third day is decorated, and marked by three bamboos, to which young coconuts are fastened for the purpose of engrossing the attention of the ghost. The house of mourning is also covered with young coco-palm leaves and sprinkled with sacrificial pigs' blood.
After the death of a person, houses, canoes, and the ground about the village are covered with palm leaves to prevent the ghost from entering.
Theoretically, all the possessions of the deceased are destroyed,[211] but the practice is now confined to personal property, as spoons, dáos, clothes. Some of his pigs are killed, a few coco palms cut down, and on rare occasions his house is burnt, or unroofed and left deserted. What remains goes to the children.
There is no belief in a future state, but it is thought that, for a time, the ghost will haunt the vicinity.
For some days after a death the tamiluanas institute ceremonies for the purpose of expelling the ghost from the village.
Tall bamboos, festooned with palm leaves and cotton, are erected on the shore at Elpanam, and the tamiluanas take their place beneath. After scattering stones and ashes, they run about, uttering a mouse-like squeak the while, until they capture the spirit and imprison it in a bunch of leaves. Several men then grasp the bunch, and placing in it a small figure, made in human likeness of coco-palm leaf, twist up the whole, and throw it into the sea.
From time to time villages go through ceremonials somewhat similar, for the purpose of expelling such devils as may be haunting the place.
Shaving the head is sometimes indulged in as a sign of mourning, together with frequent bathing and abstinence from work. A man will also change his name to show grief at the loss of a friend, and will take another title if it comes to his knowledge that a namesake, even a comparative stranger, is dead.[212]
It was customary for widows to have one of their fingers cut off, and if they refused to submit to the operation, the posts and doorway of their houses were gashed and notched.[213]
Accounts of two interments which differed somewhat from the usual practice may be worth giving here.
The first is that of "Distant," headman of Sáwi, who was buried with much pomp.
The corpse was dressed in a good suit of English clothes, and silver wire was wound about it from head to feet. This was because he was once a mafai, and the usual ceremony of Luinj-lare (renunciation of the character) had not been performed. Upon the wire, thirty-two pairs of spoons and forks were placed crosswise. Necklaces made of two-anna pieces (240 to each, and two dollars) were attached to head and neck, and the body was wrapped in forty yards of red cloth.
The corpse was then borne in procession by twenty-four men and women to the house of the relatives (contrary to custom), and was then taken to the graveyard. Two very large and four ordinary pigs were burnt alive as a sacrifice, and seven pigs and eight chickens were buried with the body after their blood had been sprinkled over the corpse.
The following night, the ceremony of Fota Elmot (wiping away tears) was performed, on which occasion fifty pigs and twenty fowls were slaughtered to feed the guests, and thirty-two pairs of spoons and forks, necklaces of silver coin and wire, and teakwood boxes full of the dead man's property, were broken up and thrown into the sea.
Again, on the eighth day, the final mourning ceremony was gone through, when, in honour of the thirteen villages of the island, thirteen pairs of spoons and forks, and sundry other articles, were destroyed, and the guests were entertained at a feast of equal munificence to that they had shortly before taken part in.
The second case is that of a man, nearly one hundred years old, who owned a third part of the village of Lapáti.
The body was neatly wrapped in cloths under a curtain in the "deadhouse." A sort of open coffin, about 7 feet long and 4 feet wide, was made, and six thick green canes were fastened to it, three to the head and three to the foot, each cane about 50 yards long.
When all was ready the coffin was drawn into the "deadhouse" up a sloping plank, and when the corpse had been placed within, two women got in and lay on either side the body, embracing it with their arms. When the coffin was lowered to the ground two big men also laid themselves down in it.
The large Elpanam was filled with a crowd of about a thousand people, young and old, from other villages. Of these, a hundred from the southern and a hundred from the northern villages seized the long canes at either end, and dragged the coffin up and down in competition until the canes were broken, when, the grave being dug, the body was buried.
This ceremony is performed only when those of the highest repute are interred.
Once in every five years the villages in turn remove all their pigs, and keep them in sties in the jungle. The surroundings of the village are then offered to the public for cultivating fruit and vegetables, and the people from other villages arrive and make gardens, which are open; there is no need for fencing, since there are no pigs to cause damage.
The reason for all this is that after demolishing the ñá-kopáh (sacrifice to the dead), during the festival of Kana Awn, the yams and other vegetables and fruit with which they are loaded are scattered about the houses, and grow abundantly; to obtain some profit from this unplanned result this custom has been introduced.
The people in general have their large vegetable plantations at a distance, but for immediate use there are some smaller gardens near the village. The tamiluanas informed the people that in consequence of the flourishing condition of these latter, the devils were angry, and might cause the island to be drowned by a deluge, and that to save themselves they should uproot part of the plants. Accordingly, the greater portion of the yams and other vegetables were destroyed; some of the people doing it willingly, others with discontent.
The Kar Nicobarese seem to hold much the same belief with regard to an eclipse as do the Chinese and some of the peoples of India.
They think the moon is actually being swallowed by a serpent, and throughout the night both young and old refrain from sleep, and occupy themselves in driving the serpent away. Providing themselves with tins and planks, they beat them, causing a tremendous din, and shout, "Alas! alas! do not devour it, let the moon alone and go away."
In the buying and selling of the larger canoes the natives of Chaura act as middlemen—seeming to possess a monoply of intermediation in this business as they do of pottery making.[214]
The canoes are not made at Chaura; there are no suitable trees on that small island to construct them from. The Chaura people obtain them—very cheaply—from the central groups (where many are made, and where others, obtained from the southern group, are also sold), and sell them again to the Kar Nicobarese, making four or five times in the transaction what they themselves pay.[215]
"As the Kar Nicobarese are timid, and allow themselves to be bullied by the natives of Chaura, who assume an overbearing manner towards them, as well as towards their southern neighbours—all of whom are dependent on them for pots, which cannot be made at any of the other islands—the feeling predominant among the Kar Nicobarese as regards the people of Chaura is one of fear, and they evince every desire to avoid incurring their ill-will and resentment,"[216] even to the point of submitting to be flagrantly cheated in their canoe barter! The extortionate price they have to pay may have something to do with the high value the Kar Nicobarese set on their large canoes.
The business of purchasing these is accompanied by its peculiar ceremonies. In an instance at Mūs, after busy bargaining for pots and a large canoe, the Chaura people, in the evening, feasted, each man in his friend's house, and then at midnight assembled at the Elpanam, with the chief men of Mūs, and amused themselves singing songs in turn, and partaking of betel-nut and toddy. There they got through the preliminaries to purchasing the canoe, and the articles intended as its price were exhibited. After the bargain was closed the Mūs people returned to the village, leaving the Chaura men at the house in Elpanam.
The articles agreed on were handed over.
Next evening a great feast was given to the people of Chaura by those of Mūs; in each house a young pig was killed for the purpose. At night all the people assembled in a house in Elpanam, and after dining, amused themselves singing songs by turns.
The Chaura people then left the island in the canoe they had sold, for it is the custom to do this, and bring the canoe back on a later occasion. They were provisioned for the voyage by the village of Mūs.
The dances of the Kar Nicobarese are always held at the open ground of Elpanam. With a mafai, a fire, or a trophy of spoons and forks as a centre, the people form large circles, or parts of circles, according to their number, and move slowly round to left and to right. The sexes dance separately, the one ring within the other, or join the ends of their chains to form one large circle, but form up very compactly, each person grasping his neighbour's shoulder with outstretched arms intertwined. The dance is somewhat monotonous, and consists of two or three steps sideways, and a pause, with a stamp with the foot or a swing of the body, and then the same movement in the reverse direction, and so on, over and over again, to the accompaniment of the performer's songs.[217]
The refreshments partaken of are coconuts, tobacco, and toddy. The latter is supplied in large quantities, and gives rise to much intoxication, which, however, only seems to result in increased friendliness and a drunken sleep.
When a quarrel takes place the participators often seek revenge in destroying each other's coconut trees, but in severe cases a man will probably burn his own house down. Possibly this is done on the supposition that the enemy will suffer more from self-reproach at having been the cause of the destruction than from any other form of punishment he could undergo. Or possibly it is a mild instance of a peculiar form of "amok," to a variation of which curious psychological state the Nicobarese are undoubtedly subject on occasions when they consider themselves injured. Several instances that have been recorded of kindred occurrences will perhaps best illustrate this conduct and idiosyncrasy.
1. A man named Kuhangta purchased some things from the traders on the responsibility of another named Tumilo. As the traders pressed Tumilo for immediate payment, he urged Kuhangta to settle the matter with coconuts forthwith. Kuhangta was enraged at this, and killed several of his own pigs, and also set fire to his own house. He threatened, in addition, to kill any one who approached, and kept a dáo in hand for that purpose. Lorenzo therefore went to the owner of a gun and begged that Kuhangta might be killed. This request was not granted, and, in the end, the headmen of various villages succeeded in reconciling the two, and obtained from Kuhangta a promise of good behaviour. Such cases, however, do not always end so tamely as in this instance.
2. "About noon, Offandi, the headman of Mūs, came to my hut with a paddle in his hand which he was trying to break, muttering at the same time, 'I am a very rich man. All this land and everything in it is mine. You were a very poor man, and I gave you land, gardens, houses, and many other things. You now call me a liar, and so I am angry, and am going to dig up a grave.' He repeated this over and over again, and would not say anything else. I was quite puzzled, and could not understand what he meant. I asked him if he was angry with me, and he said, 'Yes, I am angry, and there is another man.'
"While this was going on, his wife and a number of men and other women came running after him from the village. As soon as he saw the crowd, he hastily broke the paddle in my hut and ran off with the handle to the burial-ground, and began to dig at the grave of his late father.
"The crowd ran off to the burial-ground, caught hold of him, and tried to drag him out of the place. A regular struggle commenced, and the women began to cry out, some, 'We fear, we fear,' others, 'Don't pollute us.' The Burmese and other traders looked on from a distance with great surprise.
"As the matter began to grow serious, I went across and ordered Offandi in a commanding tone to leave the place and come away at once. He came away quietly enough to my hut, and the crowd with him. After some inquiry, he said that 'Friend of England' had insulted him, and, therefore, he wanted to open the grave of his (Offandi's) father and throw the bones into the sea, adding, 'This man was a very poor man once. My dead father patronised and gave him land, garden, and everything, but now he calls my father a liar, and so he must be punished.' I then sent word to all the chief men of the village, and told them to come over to my place that night.
"Accordingly, at about seven o'clock, all the people, including the parties of the dispute and the Kahokachan (village judge), assembled, and as this was a family quarrel, I asked the judge to investigate the case, and settle the matter according to their own customs. A good deal of argument then took place between Offandi and 'Friend of England,' the crowd, acting as jurors, gave their opinion, and at last the judge made a long speech, in which he pointed out the faults of both parties, and ended the case by ordering them to be reconciled. 'Friend of England' apologised to Offandi, admitting his bad language, and the latter forgave him, everybody departing quite satisfied.
"The origin of the affair was that Offandi and 'Friend of England,' with a few others, jointly cleared a spot in the jungle to make a garden. 'David Jones,' a cousin of the former's and a junior partner in the concern, wished to plant only coconut shoots, a plan to which 'Friend of England' raised an objection, as he wanted to grow only yams and other eatables. Offandi tried to intercede on behalf of 'David Jones,' on the plea that the land was given him by his deceased father, and therefore he was at liberty to plant what he liked in the allotment. Then it appeared that 'Friend of England' said, 'Your father was a liar.' Being enraged by this, Offandi rejoined, 'Shall I dig up the bones of my father and throw them into the sea?'—a very great indignity and bad omen to the party causing it. 'Friend of England' replied,'Yes, you had better,' and hence the trouble."[218]
The cases of "amok" that occur among the Malayan peoples are, as often as not, the outcome of ill-health and long-continued brooding over some imaginary or trifling insult. Similar occurrences happen from time to time among the Nicobarese, and as they are an almost exact parallel, they possibly afford material proof as to the Malayan affinities of these people.
Sam-tat-yon was always a loafer who obtained his food gratis from the traders at Malacca, and slept in any bazaar he could. At dawn one morning, Osman—an old man—a servant of Yusuf Hussain, got up from his bed and went to the beach, and while returning to his hut, saw Sam-tat-yon coming out of it with an axe in his hand.
Osman called out to Ali Hussain and Yusuf Hussain (both foreign traders) and told them what he had seen, and Sam-tat-yon, hearing this, dropped the axe, and with a small American knife, kept for husking coconuts, attempted to kill both Ali and Yusuf. They, however, got beneath the floor of the hut and made their escape, the former with a slight wound.
Sam-tat-yon then fell upon old Osman and slew him with the knife.
He next went up to some Burmans who were gambling, and dispersed them, after doing one of them some slight injury. Sam-tat-yon then ran off to the village of Perka.
At Perka, there were sleeping in a house his brother—a man named Kichyeti,—one Chestu Chulia, and some women and children.
Sam-tat-yon entered, closed the door, and stabbing his brother first in the chest and then in the abdomen, killed him. At the first cry of Kichyeti, Chestu Chulia and the others got up, and giving the alarm, tried to snatch away the knife. Some women from a neighbouring house then came and helped to arrest the murderer, whose own wife—one of those arriving to rescue Chestu Chulia—was wounded in the struggle.
The populace not unnaturally wanted to kill Sam-tat-yon on the spot, but they were prevailed upon to keep him for trial. Not being accustomed to guarding prisoners, and not liking to keep him in any of their houses, lest they should become polluted, they prepared a strong wooden cage, similar to those made for pigs that are to be slaughtered, and left the man in it with his hands tied.
(The Nicobarese fear the presence of a desperado, and are too ignorant to know how to guard him, and for these reasons they always kill the men of whom they entertain fear.)
After three or four days of the cage, Sam-tat-yon became quite subdued, and answered any inquiries about the occurrence. He fully admitted his behaviour, but attributed no cause to it. He simply said that he had been unwell for the last month, and could not take his meals properly, that he was unable to drink coconut milk, but lived upon warm water, and that he had not slept for several nights. In such a state of health he lost his senses, and therefore committed the crime. He stated that the Mussulman who was killed by him was not an enemy, but on the other hand, he and all the traders were his friends. Regarding his brother, he said that he had been kind to him.
The proceedings of a man who wishes to obtain a name as a wizard are rather curious. He will, for instance, frequent pig wallows, and, sitting in the mud, collect the bristles left there by the pigs when cooling themselves; or again, he visits the graveyard at night and disturbs the graves. He generally lives by himself in the jungle, doing no work, but stealing pigs, chickens, and coconuts from others. Having made a reputation for witchcraft, he is held in much fear by the community, but to balance this advantage, if they consider themselves injured by his practices, it is not impossible that they may some day combine and murder him.
Besides ridding themselves of an unpleasant neighbour, it would seem that they also hope by such an action to cause the destruction of an evilly-disposed spirit.
1. "Tham Koi, son of Katha, having beaten a countryman to death in Chaura, made the following statement: 'Kanunla, a menluana (medicine man) and sorcerer, is addicted to sodomy and theft. He bewitched my father, who became very ill. I sent for Kanunla to come and shampoo my father, who gradually got worse. I became enraged with the menluana, and waited until he got on the ladder of my hut, when I struck him on the left side of the neck, so that he fell down. I went down and struck him again thrice, and he died. I then went and told my neighbours Kamrang Piko, Okio, Cher, and Tachoi what I had done, and asked them to help me remove the corpse, which we took in a canoe and threw into the sea. Kanunla did not make a noise. No one knew of this at the time because it was in the evening, and very dark. The villagers knew of it on the following morning.'" —Diary of Mr Obed Elias.
2. Tekwa was the adopted son of Iskol's father, and was always living in Iskol's house. Eventually he became a thief, and robbed the people of their fowls and pigs, and he was supposed to be a "devil-man" or wizard.
It happened that a man named Sutro died after suffering a long time from dysentery and consumption, and it was supposed by Iskol and his friends that Tekwa was the cause of this death. Tekwa perceived this, and hid himself in a place called Hat-Own; but three days later, Iskol and his friends, Natla, Sundran, and Nawi, after consulting together, brought him thence to a place called Ranai, where, after giving him toddy, they killed him by strangling him with a rope, subsequent to breaking his joints at the knees and elbows.
The same night they buried the corpse in Kofenté (the place of pollution), near the graveyard, and a day or two later, killed a couple of pigs as a ransom or sacrifice.
The reason for these murders—or popular sentences,—when not because of witchcraft, seems to be somewhat obscure, but can possibly be found in a general dislike for the victim, or for some act or event with which he is associated.
A woman of Kenuaka had been shot to death with arrows by her fellow-villagers. She was suffering badly from secondary syphilis, and was very poorly off, but the reason given as the immediate cause of her death was the untimely delivery of a still-born child. The body was buried in the usual manner, and everybody contributed cloth to wrap the corpse in, according to custom.
A double murder took place in the village of Perka, whose headman was named Kan-nyána. The victims, who were detested by the village, were put to death because of their misconduct. Six men participated in the affair, but as there was no idea among the natives that they should be punished, no one could be brought to point them out to the Agent. The testimony of witnesses showed the light in which they were regarded. Tamikal, wife of one of the deceased, stated:—"On a certain night, while I was sitting at the entrance of my house, my husband was angry with me, and attempted to thrash me. I cried aloud. Then, suddenly, a lot of men, armed with sticks, came into the house and commenced to beat the dead man. I was afraid and ran away, and cannot say what happened further, nor could I recognise any of the assailants. I am glad, however, that the two men were killed, for they were wicked men."
Kokali, son of one of the deceased, seconded the statements of his mother, and said, "I am glad that they were killed; they were very bad men; the village now enjoys peace."
The culprits were finally apprehended, and one of them, Ringangmareng, grasping a stick, cried in great anger, "Why do you call me here? I am the man who killed those wicked villains with the very stick I have now in my hand. Do you wish to handcuff me and carry me to Port Blair? Do so if you like, but you must not take mah"—pointing to the chief Kan-nyána.
(The Nicobarese possess much affection for their chiefs, and also value their tamiluanas highly. When one of the latter was being taken to Port Blair because of misconduct, the headman of his village entreated that two other men might be substituted for the "doctor.")
Suicide is not recognised as an institution of Nicobarese life, but cases of it do occur somewhat occasionally.
Pin-re-ta was a good man, very rich, and had no wife nor any enemies, and therefore his fellow-villagers could show no cause for the occurrence. One day, his servant-boy, who was sleeping in the cookhouse, was aroused by a noise as of a pig being beaten. Going down the ladder to see what was happening, he noticed that the pig-sty was in flames, and that a pig had been killed, and then he saw Pin-re-ta, who, standing below the cookhouse, axe in hand, threatened to murder him. The boy ran off to the jungle, where people were making a garden; and they, returning with him, found that Pin-re-ta, after setting fire to both his houses, had thrown himself into the flames, and was burnt to death.
While the negotiations were going on for the plot of land on which the Schoolhouse and Agent's bungalow stand, it was found that in buying land in Kar Nicobar, the bargain must be made with the chief, as overlord of all the land in the village, but that he, on his part, is bound to share the proceeds with all who are interested in it.
The price fixed on for the piece in question (about 8¼ acres) was:—twelve black suits, one piece of red cloth, six bags rice, twenty packets Chinese tobacco, and twelve bottles rum.
These things were distributed amongst the people of the village by the headman, Offandi, who retained nothing for himself; but for some time subsequently he was in bad odour for having given up the land to the Government, and for a long period the Agency was looked on with much disfavour.
The Kar Nicobarese have a deeply rooted aversion to the settlement of strangers in their midst, and more than once have expelled from their island intruding missionaries. Nowadays, great discontent is caused by the traders leaving agents to carry on business during the south-west monsoon, when the weather is not suitable for vessels to remain amongst these islands.
The habit the natives have of using their crossbows in the immediate neighbourhood of the villages is sometimes productive of fatal accidents. Two men were shooting at Sáwi, and one of them having shot at a bird and missed, the arrow in falling pierced the chest of his friend, who had run forward to recover it. Several similar mischances have occurred recently in Mūs; in the latest, a lad named Sinkin shot at a bird, and his arrow, glancing from a tree, struck a man, Ka Noe, and entered his side, causing a serious, but not fatal, wound.
The not infrequent mishaps that occur on the annual canoe voyages undertaken by the Kar Nicobarese to Chaura have much to do with the stationary condition of the population of the island. Canoes containing thirty to forty men are regularly sent out by the villages of the island, and when they meet with bad weather a total loss is not an uncommon occurrence.
During the months of October, November, and December—the first half of the north-east monsoon—or fine season, the people of Kar Nicobar live a busy life.
At first they are engaged in husking the coconuts which are to be exported to Calcutta and Moulmein. The wages they obtain for this work are the value of 100 nuts for husking 1000 nuts. They are generally paid in cloth, or two-anna bits, which are utilised by manufacture into head—or neck—ornaments.
Next they are employed in landing the goods of the Burmese kopra-makers, and in carrying the same to their villages, for as no ships can anchor on the north-east coast during the season, everything has to be transported by the natives. The people of Mūs carry the things of those traders who own stores in their villages; in like manner the villagers of Malacca go to Sáwi Bay, and carry the goods of those Burmans who dwell amongst them. They are remunerated according to the following scale:—
For carrying a 3-maund bag of rice—
| China tobacco. | Rice. | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| (a) | From Hog Point (N.-W. | of Sávi Bay) | |||||
| to | Elpanam at Mūs | 2 | packets | and | 2 | lbs. | |
| (b) | Kenmai | 3 | " | " | 2 | " | |
| (c) | Lapáti | 4 | " | " | 4 | " | |
| (d) | Tapoeming Chokchuácha Kenyúaka | 5 | " | " | 4 | " | |
| (e) | Tamálu | 6 | " | " | 4 | " | |
| (f) | Perka | 7 | " | " | 4 | " | |
| (g) | Malacca | 8 | " | " | 4 | " | |
It costs a trader about 30 rupees to transport one cartload of goods from Mūs to Malacca.
When this work is done, the Nicobarese are employed in erecting huts, to serve the traders as bazaars. Each hut is built by contract by one man with the help of friends, and on its completion the owner has to give the contractor 14 to 20 yards of red cloth, a Burmese betel-box and a dáo, and besides this, has to supply the men with food until the work is finished.
After the hut has been built, the natives proceed to make a fence round a small compound, in order to prevent pigs from destroying the stores of kopra. For this they are remunerated separately.
While some are thus engaged, others take passages in such of the trading vessels as go to Kamorta and other islands, in order to assist in husking coconuts and making kopra, work for which they receive one nut in ten. These opportunities are much desired by the natives, since they are at liberty to take home with them any number of Chaura pots, rattans, bamboos, paddles, and canoes; and masters of trading boats are glad to employ the Kar Nicobarese, for the people of the other islands are too indolent to collect and prepare the nuts, but sell them on the trees.
While the men are so occupied, the women and children are busy helping the traders to make kopra, and for this service they are fed twice daily, and receive presents at the termination of the work.
Careful accounts are kept by the Nicobarese of their transactions in coconuts, by means of a tally-stick (kenrāta kuk, Kar Nicobar), on which all the nuts that pass from them to the traders are registered by various kinds of notches.
A regular account is kept of the months, so that festivals may be held in proper season, and a daily account is kept of a child's age until the time arrives for piercing its ears, an operation taking place soon after the first year.
Note.—Since this chapter was printed, I have learned that the Anthropological Society has made use of V. Solomon's diaries in a paper appearing in their Journal for July 1902. It is perhaps well to say here that neither the Society nor myself was aware that the same material was about to be a subject for publication elsewhere.—C. B. K.