8. MEDICINE

“The successful practice of (Malay) medicine must be based on the fundamental principle of ‘preserving the balance of power’ among the four elements. This is chiefly to be effected by constant attention to, and moderation in, diet. To enforce these golden precepts, passages from the Korān are plentifully quoted against excess in eating or drinking. Air, they say, is the cause of heat and moisture, and earth of cold and dryness. They assimilate the constitution and passions of man to the twelve signs of the Zodiac, and the seven planets, etc.”

“The mysterious sympathy between man and external nature ... was the basis of that system of supernatural magic which prevailed in Europe during the Middle Ages.”[116]

The foregoing quotation shows that the distinctive features of the Aristotelian hygienic theory, as borrowed by the Arabs, did eventually filter through (in some cases) until they reached the Malays. Such direct references, however, to Greek theories are of the rarest character, and can hardly be considered typical.

Most of the more important rites practised by the Malay medicine-men (Bomor[117]) may be divided into two well-defined parts. Commencing with a ceremonial “inspection” (the counterpart of our modern “diagnosis”), the Bomor proceeds to carry out a therapeutic ceremony, the nature of which is decided by the results of the “inspection.” For the purposes of the diagnosis he resorts to divination, by means of omens taken from the smoke of the burning censer, from the position of coins thrown into water-jars (batu buyong), and parched rice floating upon the water’s surface.

The therapeutic rites, on the other hand, may be roughly classified as follows according to their types:[118]—

Plate 16.—Bomor at work.

Model, showing a medicine-man (bomor or pawang) at work, the patient lying in bed with his child at his side. The “three jars” (buyong tiga) used by the medicine-man are standing in a row at the side of the room. They are a little too large in proportion.

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I shall take each of the types in order.

For the water-jar ceremony three jars (buyong) containing water are brought to the sick man’s room and decorated with the fringe or necklace of plaited cocoa-nut leaves, which is called “Centipedes’ Feet” (jari ’lipan). A fourth jar should contain a sort of bouquet of artificial flowers to serve as an attraction to the sick man’s soul (sĕmangat). You will also require a tray filled with the usual accessories of Malay magic ceremonies (incense, three sorts of rice, etc.), besides three wax tapers, one of which you will plant upon the brim of each of the three jars.

When all is ready, drop the incense upon the embers, and as the smoke rises repeat this charm:—

“If you are at one with me, rise towards me, O smoke;

If you are not at one with me, rise athwart me, O smoke,

Either to right or left.”[120]

As you say this, “catch” the first puff of smoke and inhale it (tangkap-lah puchok asap, chium), as it rises towards you. If the smell is pleasant (sĕdap) it is a good sign; if it has a scorched smell (hangit) it is bad; but if it smells offensive (busok) no medicine can save the patient.

Next, before you look into the jars, take handfuls of “parched,” “washed,” and “saffron” rice, and after fumigating them over the incense, strew them all round the row of jars, saying as you do so:—

“Cluck, cluck! souls of So-and-so, all seven of you![121]

Come, and let all of us here together

See (about the) medicine for (you) O souls of So-and-so.”

Here strew (tabor) the rice first to the right, then to the left, and then to the right again.

Before removing the calladium-leaves from the jar-mouths, repeat the following:—

“Peace be with you, Prophet ’Tap, in whose charge is the earth,

Suawam, in whose charge are the heavens,

Prophet Noah, in whose charge are the Trees,

Prophet Elias, Planter of Trees,

And Prophet Khailir (Khizr), in whose charge is the water,

I crave permission to see the remedies for So-and-so.”

Here remove the calladium-leaves from the jar-mouths, and taking one of the wax tapers, wave it in the smoke of the censer seven times towards the right, and say:—

“Peace be with you, O Tanju, I adopt you to be a guardian for my brother,

You who are sprung from the original elements,

From the former time unto the present,

You who sprang from the gum of the eyes of Muhammad,

I ask to see the disease of So-and-so.”

Here plant the taper firmly upon the edge of the jar, and “gaze” into the water “to see the signs” (ʿalamat-nya).

Thus if there is an oily scum on the water (ayer bĕrk’rak lĕmak) it is a bad sign; and to this may be added that if the calladium-leaf covering has acquired a faded look (layu) in the interim, it is a sign of severe sickness.

Fumigate the outside of the jars with the smoke of the incense (the medicine-man does this by “washing” his hands in the smoke and then rubbing over the outside of the jars as if he were “shampooing” them); and anoint them with “oil of Celebes” (minyak Bugis). Then take a “closed fistful” (sa-gĕnggam) of parched rice, and holding it over the smoke of the censer (ganggang di asap kĕm’nyan), repeat this charm:—

“Peace be with you, Mustia Kĕmbang,

I adopt you as a guardian for my brother,

If in truth you are sprung from the primordial elements,

From the former time unto the present,

I know the origin from which you sprang,

For you sprang from our Lady Eve (Siti Hawa),

You I order, your co-operation I invoke,

That whatsoever shape you assume

Within this your garden of splendour,

You break neither plighted faith nor solemn promise.”

Here throw the parched rice into the jars, and say:—

“Peace be unto you, O Prophet ’Tap, in whose charge is the Earth,

O Prophet Noah in whose charge are the Trees,

And Prophet Khailir in whose charge is the Water,

I crave this water (lit. ‘exudation’) as a boon,

For the healing of So-and-so.”

And observe these signs:—

Next, see what patterns are formed by the rice-grains as they lie on the water:—

Now take all kinds of fragrant flowers and shred them (buat bunga rampai), add the shredded blossoms of four which are scentless (for instance, blossoms of the sĕlaguri, pulut-pulut, bali-adap, and kĕdudok), mix them and throw them into the jars, then plant in each jar the flower-spathe of an areca-palm (mayang pinang). Throw into each a “jar-stone” (i.e. a dollar), and the jars will be ready. You should then read the foregoing charms over each of them.

The extra jar which is filled with a sort of big nosegay (gumba) represents a pleasure-garden (taman bunga), and is intended to attract the soul (sĕmangat) of the sick man.

Now take parched rice and hold it over the incense (di-ganggang) saying:—

“Peace be with you, O Wheat,

You I wish to command, your co-operation I invoke

In ‘inspecting’ the sickness of So-and-so.

Break neither plighted faith nor solemn promise,

But inspect the sickness of this grandson of Adam,

This follower of the Prophet Muhammad, of the race of the sons of men, So-and-so;

If anything should supervene,

Do you ‘stir’ within this pure heart (of mine).”

Plate 17.—Anchak.

Model of the sacrificial tray (anchak) used by the medicine-man, showing the kind of fringe round the tray called “centipedes’ feet,” and the rice receptacles of plaited palm-fronds (kĕtupat and lĕpat) which are attached to the “suspenders” of the tray.

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Now scatter the parched rice upon the surface of the water in the jars, and watch for the signs:—

The most popular method of propitiating evil spirits consists in the use of the sacrificial tray called Anchak.

This is “a small frame of bamboo or wood,”[122] usually from two to three feet square and turned up at the sides, which are decorated with a long fringe (jari’lipan) of plaited cocoa-nut leaf. Four rattan “suspenders” of equal length (tali pĕnggantong) are fastened to the four corners, and are thence carried up to meet at a point which may be from two to three feet above the tray.

These trays appear to be divisible into two classes, according to the objects which they are intended to serve. In the one case certain offerings (to be described presently) are laid upon the tray, which is carried out of the house to a suitable spot and there suspended to enable the spirits for whom it is designed to feed upon its contents.[123] In the other case certain objects are deposited upon it, into which the evil spirits are ceremoniously invited to enter, in which case it must obviously be got rid of after the ceremony, and is therefore hung up in the jungle, or set adrift in the sea or the nearest river; in the latter case it is called the “keeled sacrifice-tray” (anchak pĕlunas), and falls into line with other objects which are occasionally set adrift for the same purpose.

The offerings placed on the sacrificial tray vary considerably, according to the object of the ceremony, the means of the person for whose benefit they are offered, the caprice of the medicine-man who carries out the ceremony, and so on.[124]

I shall therefore, in the present place, merely describe the contents of a more or less typical tray, with the main points of the accompanying ritual.

The bottom of the tray having been lined with banana-leaf, and thickly strewn with parched rice, there are deposited in the tray itself five “chews” of betel-leaf, five native “cigarettes” (rokok), five wax tapers, five small water-receptacles or limas (made of banana-leaf and skewered together at each end), and five copper cents (or dollars). The articles just enumerated are divided into five portions, one of which is deposited in the centre of the tray, and the remainder in its four corners. Besides this there are to be deposited in the tray fourteen portions of meat (of fowl, goat, or buffalo, as the case may be), and fourteen portions of Malay “cakes,” care being taken in each case to see that there are seven portions of cooked and seven portions of uncooked food provided. The rattan “suspenders,” again, are hung with two sets of ornamental rice-receptacles made of plaited cocoa-nut leaf (fourteen of the long-shaped kind, or lĕpat, and fourteen of the diamond-shaped kind, or kĕtupat). Besides this, two sets of (cooked and uncooked) packets of rice (each stained a different colour) are sometimes deposited in the tray, the colours used being white, yellow, red, black, blue, green, and purple. The only other articles required for the tray are a couple of eggs, of which one must, of course, be cooked and the other raw.

Of the water-receptacles, those in alternate corners are filled with water and cane-juice, the central receptacle being filled with the blood of the fowl (or other animal slain for the sacrifice).

Upon the ground, exactly underneath the tray, should be deposited the feathers, feet, entrails, etc., of the fowl, portions of whose flesh have been used for the tray, together with the refuse of the parched rice and a censer. Strictly speaking, a white and a black fowl should be killed, but only half of each cooked, the remainder being left raw. The “portions” of fowl are as small as they can possibly be, a mere symbol (ʿisharat) of each kind of food being all that the spirits are supposed to require. Sometimes funnel-shaped rice-receptacles are used, which are skewered with a bamboo skewer and called kĕronchot. Occasionally a standard censer (sangga?) is used, the end of a piece of bamboo being split up and bent or opened outwards for several inches, and a piece of rattan (cane) being wound in and out among the split ends, so as to form a sort of funnel (about nine inches in diameter at the top), which is lined with banana leaf, filled with earth, and planted vertically in the ground, great care being taken to see that it does not lean out of the perpendicular. Live embers are placed upon it, incense crumbled over it (between the finger and thumb), and the appropriate charm recited. A specimen of a charm or formula used during the burning of incense will be found in the Appendix.[125]

The kĕtupats are called—(1) S’ri nĕg’ri (seven-cornered), or the “luck of the country”; (2) Buah k’ras (six-cornered), or the “candle-nut”; (3) Bawang puteh (six-cornered), or “garlic”; (4) Ulu pĕngayoh (four-cornered), or the “paddle-handle”; (5) Pasar (five-cornered), or the “market”; (6) Bawang merah (six-cornered), or the “onion”; (7) Pasar Pahang (six-cornered), or the “Pahang market”; (8) Tĕlor, or the “hen’s egg.”

The lĕpats are called—(1) Lĕpat daun niyor (5–6 inches long and made of cocoa-nut leaves); (2) Lĕpat tilam (of plantain leaves); (3) Lĕpat daun palas (of palas leaves, three-sided).

Diminutive models of various objects (also made of cocoa-nut leaves) are often added, e.g. burong ponggok, the owl; kĕr’bau, the buffalo; rusa, the stag; tĕkukur, the ground-dove; kĕtam, the crab; and (but very rarely) kuda, the horse.

The things deposited in the tray are intended for the spirits (Hantus) themselves; the refuse on the ground beneath it for their slaves (hamba).

Of the food in the tray, the cooked food is for the king of the spirits (Raja Hantu), who is sometimes said to be the Wild Huntsman (Hantu Pĕmburu) and sometimes Batara Guru, and the uncooked for his following. But of the two eggs, the uncooked one is alleged to be for the Land-spirit (i.e. the Wild Huntsman), and the cooked for the Sea-spirit; this assertion, however, requires some further investigation before it can be unreservedly accepted.

The Wave-Offering

On one occasion, during my residence in the Kuala Langat district of Selangor, I had the good fortune to be present at the “waving” of a sacrificial tray (anchak) containing offerings to the spirits. The account of this ceremony, which I shall now give, is made up from notes taken during the actual performance. To commence:—The Pawang sat down with his back to the patient, facing a multitude of dishes which contained the various portions of cooked and uncooked food. The tray itself was suspended at a height of about three feet from the ground in the centre of the room, just in front of the Pawang’s head. Lighting a wax taper and removing the yam-leaf covering from the mouth of the jar containing “holy” water, the Pawang now “inspected” the water in the jar by gazing intently into its depths, and re-extinguished the taper. Then he fumigated his hands in the smoke of the censer, extended them for a brief interval over the “holy” water, took the censer in both hands, described three circles round the jar with it, set it down again, and stirred the water thrice with a small knife or dagger (k’ris), the blade of which he kept in the water while he muttered a charm to himself. Then he charmed the betel-stand and the first dish of cooked food, pushing the latter aside and covering it with a small dish-cover as he finished the charm. Next, at the hands of one of the company, he accepted, in two pieces, five cubits of yellow cloth (yellow being the royal colour), and a small vessel of “oil of Celebes,” with which, it may be added, he anointed the palms of both hands before he touched the cloth itself. Next, he fumigated the latter in the smoke of the censer, one end of the cloth being grasped firmly in the right hand, and the remainder of it being passed round the right wrist, and over and under the right arm, while the loose end trailed across his lap. Next, after repeating the usual charm, he breathed on one end of the cloth, passed the whole of the cloth through his fingers, fumigated it, and laid it aside; took an egg which was presented to him upon a tray, and deposited it exactly in the centre of a large dish of parched rice. Next, he pushed aside the jar of holy water, lowered the tray by means of the cord attached to it (which passed over a beam), and proceeded to supervise the preparation of the tray, which was being decorated with the “centipede” fringe by one of the company acting as an assistant. The fringe having been fitted by the latter to the edges of the tray, and the latter lined with three thicknesses of banana leaf, the Pawang described a circle round it thrice with the censer, and then deposited the censer upon the floor, exactly under the centre of the tray. Then anointing his hands again he passed them over both tray and fringe. A brief pause followed, and then the Pawang took the larger piece of yellow cloth and wrapped it like a royal robe around the shoulders of the patient as he sat up inside his mosquito curtain. Another brief pause, and the Pawang betook himself once more to the filling of the tray. Taking a large bowl of parched rice, he scooped up the rice in his hands, and let it run through his fingers into the tray, until there was a layer of parched rice in the latter of at least an inch in depth, and then deposited the egg, already alluded to, in the very centre of the parched rice. Next he took a comb of bananas (presented by one of the company), and cutting them off one by one deposited them in a dish, from which they were presently transferred to the tray. The Pawang now returned to the patient, and kneeling down in front of him, fumigated his hands in the smoke of the censer, and then, muttering a charm, wrapped the smaller piece of yellow cloth turban-wise round his own head, and slowly and carefully pushed the yellow-robed patient (who was still in a sitting posture) forward until he reached a spot which was exactly under the centre of the tray, and which faced, I was told, the “place of the Rising Sun.”

The long straw-coloured streamers of the tray-fringe dropped gracefully around the patient on every side, and had it not been for occasional bright glimpses of the yellow cloth he would have been almost invisible.

The censer, voluming upwards its ash-gray smoke, was now passed from hand to hand three times round the patient, and finally deposited on the floor at his feet.

The loading of the tray now recommenced, and the Pawang standing up and looking towards the south, deposited in it carefully the several portions of “cooked” offerings (the sum of the various portions making up a whole fowl). Then, after washing his hands, he added to the tray small portions of rice variously prepared and coloured (viz. parched and washed rice, and rice stained yellow (saffron), green, red, blue, and black, seven kinds in all). Next he deposited in the tray the uncooked portions, whose sum also amounted to a whole fowl, then, after a further hand-washing, the “cakes,” and finally, after a last washing, he fastened to the “suspenders”[126] of the tray the small ornamental rice-bags called kĕtupat and lĕpat.[127]

But the list of creature comforts provided for the spirits comprised other things besides food. Five miniature water-buckets, each manufactured from a strip of banana leaf skewered together at each end with a bamboo pin, were now filled, the alternate corner ones with water and cane-juice (called “palm-toddy” in the Spirit Language), and the central one with the blood of the fowls killed for the sacrifice. They were then duly deposited in the tray by the Pawang. Five waxen tapers, to “light the spirits to their food,” were next “charmed” and lighted, and planted in the centre and four corners respectively.

Finally, no doubt for the spirits’ after-dinner enjoyment, five “chews” of betel-leaf and five native-made cigarettes (tobacco rolled in strips of palm-leaf), were charmed and actually lighted at a lamp, and deposited in the tray with the other offerings, and at the same time five 50 cent (silver) pieces of Straits money, called “tray-stones,” were added to the medley, evidently with the object of preventing the good temper of the spirits from being disturbed by “shortness of cash.”

The loading of the tray being now complete, the Pawang walked thrice round the patient (who was still overshadowed by the tray), and passed the censer round him thrice. Standing then with his face to the east, so as to look in the same direction as the patient, he grasped the “suspenders” of the tray with both hands at their converging point, and thrice muttered a charm, giving a downward tug to the cord of the tray at the end of each repetition. This done, he removed the yellow cloth from his head, and fastened it round the tray-cord at the point where the “suspenders” converged, and then “waved” the offering by causing the loaded tray with its flaring tapers to swing slowly backwards and forwards just over the patient’s head. Next, letting the tray slowly down and detaching it from the cord, at the converging point, he again “waved” it slowly to and fro amid the flaring of the tapers, seven times in succession, and held it out for the patient to spit into. When this was done he sallied out into the darkness of the night carrying the tray, and gaining the jungle, suspended it from a tree (of the kind called pĕtai bĕlalang) which had been selected that very day for the purpose. A white ant, immediately settling upon the offering, was hailed by the Malays present with great delight as a sign that the spirits had accepted the offering, whereupon we all returned to the house and the company broke up. The ceremony had commenced about 8 P.M., and lasted about an hour and a half, and the number of people present was fourteen, seven male and seven female, which was the number stipulated by the Pawang.

Another form of “propitiation” (buang-buangan limas) ceremony consists in loading a limas with the offerings. The limas is a receptacle of about a span (sa-jĕngkal) in length, made of banana-leaf folded together at the ends and skewered with a bamboo pin. Inside it are deposited the offerings, which consist of the following articles: a chupak (half cocoa-nutful) of “parched” rice, a set of three, five, or seven bananas, a “pinch” (sa-jĕmput) of “saffron” rice, a pinch of “washed” rice, a native cigarette (rokok), an egg, a wax taper, two “chews” of betel-leaf, and a betel-leaf twisted up into the shape of a spiral (pantat siput). One (at least) of the two “chews” of betel must be specially prepared, as it is to be left behind for the spirits to chew, whilst the other is taken back into the presence of the sick man, where the medicine-man chews it and ejects the chewed leaf (di-sĕmbor) upon the “small” of the sick man’s back. In the case of the “chew” which is left behind for the spirits, the ordinary portion of betel-nut must be replaced by nutmeg, the gambier by mace, and the lime by “oil of Celebes” (minyak Bugis).

When the ceremony of loading the limas is complete, it is carried down to the nearest river or sea, and there set adrift with the following words:—

“Peace be with you, Khailir (Khizr), Prophet of God and Lord of water,

Maduraya is the name of your sire,

Madaruti the name of your mother,

Si Kĕkas the name of their child;

Accept this present from your younger brother, Si Kĕkas,

Cause him no sickness or headache.

Here is his, your younger brother’s, present.”

Here the limas is set adrift, and the water underneath it scooped up and carried home, where it is used for bathing the sick man.

Another very simple form of “propitiation” is called ambang-ambangan, and is performed as follows:—

Take seven “chews” of betel-leaf, seven native cigarettes (rokok), seven bananas, an egg, and an overflowing chupak (half cocoa-nutful) of parched rice (bĕr’tih sa-chupak abong),[128] roll them all up together in a banana leaf (which must be a cubit in length and of the same variety of banana as the first), and deposit them in a place where three roads meet (if anything “a little way along the left-hand road of the three,”) and repeat this charm:—

“Jĕmbalang Jĕmbali, Demon of the Earth,

Accept this portion as your payment

And restore So-and-So.

But if you do not restore him

I shall curse you with the saying,

‘There is no god but God,’” etc.

The above ceremony is generally used in the case of fever complaint.

Counter-charms for “neutralising” the active principle of poisons form, as a rule, one of the most important branches of the pharmacopœic system among the less civilised Malay tribes. A settled form of government and the softening of manners due to contact with European civilisation has, however, diminished the importance (I speak, of course, from the Malay point of view) of this branch of the subject in the Western Malay States of the Peninsula, where poisoning cases are very rarely heard of. Malay women have always possessed the reputation of being especially proficient in the use of poison; ground glass and the furry spicules obtained from the leaf-cases of some kinds of bamboo being their favourite weapons.

This idea (of using a charm to “neutralise” the active principle of poison) has been extended by Malay medicine-men to cover all cases where any evil principle (even, for instance, a familiar spirit) is believed to have entered the sick person’s system. All such charms are piously regarded by devout Muhammadans as gifts due to the mercy of God, who is believed to have sent them down to the Prophet Muhammad by the hand of his servant Gabriel. This doctrine we find clearly stated in the charms themselves, e.g. (somewhat tautologically):—

“Neutralising charms sprang from God,

Neutralising charms were created by God,

Neutralising charms were a boon from God,

Who commanded Prince Gabriel

To bring them unto Muhammad.”

The ceremony of applying such charms generally takes the form of grating a bezoar-stone[129] (batu guliga), mixing the result with water, and drinking it after repeating the charm.

Thus in one of the charms quoted in the Appendix we read:—

“The Upas loses its venom,

And Poison loses its venom,

And the Sea-Snake loses its venom,

And the poison-tree of Borneo loses its venom,

Everything that is venomous loses its venom,

By virtue of my use of the Prayer of the Magic Bezoar-Stone.”

Of the sea-snake (ular gerang) I was told that it was about two cubits in length, and that it was the most poisonous snake in existence; “In fact,” my informant declared, “if your little finger is bitten by it you must cut off the finger; if your oar-blade is bitten by it you must throw away the oar.”[130] And again of the Ipoh, or “upas” (which is one of the chief ingredients in the blow-gun poison used by the wild tribes), I was told that if a man who was “struck” by it was supported by another his supporter would die, and that so far from its virulence becoming then exhausted, it would even kill a person who was seven times removed, in point of contact, from the person originally affected.[131]

The above charm terminates as follows:—

“Let this my prayer be sharp as steel,

Swift as lightning,

Fleet as the wind!

Grant this by virtue of my use of the prayer of Dato’ Malim Karimun,

Who has become a saint through religious penance

Performed at the headwaters of the river of Saïran in the interior of Egypt,

By the grace of,” etc.

I may add that when you are collecting the materials for a neutralising ceremony (tawar) the following formula should be used:—

“Not mine are these materials,

They are the materials of Kĕmal-ul-hakim;[132]

Not to me belongs this neutralising charm,

To Malim Saidi belongs this neutralising charm.

It is not I who apply it,

It is Malim Karimun who applies it.”

Badi

The next class of medicinal ceremonies consists of rites intended to effect the expulsion from the patient’s body of all kinds of evil influences or principles, such as may have entered into a man who has unguardedly touched a dead animal or bird from which the badi has not yet been expelled, or who has met with the Wild Huntsman in the forest.[133]

Badi is the name given to the evil principle which, according to the view of Malay medicine-men, attends (like an evil angel) everything that has life. [It must not be forgotten when we find it used of inert objects, such as trees, and even of stones or minerals, that these too are animate objects from the Malay point of view.] Von de Wall describes it as “the enchanting or destroying influence which issues from anything, e.g. from a tiger which one sees,[134] from a poison-tree which one passes under, from the saliva of a mad dog, from an action which one has performed; the contagious principle of morbid matter.”

Hence the ceremony which purports to drive out this evil principle is of no small importance in Malay medicine. I may take this opportunity of pointing out that I have used the word “mischief” to translate it when dealing with the charms, as this is the nearest English equivalent which I have been able to find; indeed, it appears a very fairly exact equivalent when we remember its use in English in such phrases as “It’s got the mischief in it,” which is sometimes used even of inanimate objects.

There are a hundred and ninety of these mischiefs, according to some, according to others, a hundred and ninety-three. Their origin is very variously given. One authority says that the first badi sprang from three drops of Adam’s blood (which were spilt on the ground). Another (rather inconsistently) declares that the “mischief” (badi) residing in an iguana (biawak) was the origin of all subsequent “mischiefs,” yet adds later that the “Heart of Timber” was their origin, and yet again that the yellow glow at sunset (called Mambang Kuning or the “Yellow Deity”) was their origin. These two latter are, perhaps the most usual theories, but a third medicine-man declares that the first badi was the offspring of the Jin (“genie”) Ibn Ujan (Ibnu Jan?), who resides in the clouds (or caverns?) and hollows of the hills. Thus do Malay medicine-men disagree.

These “mischiefs” reside not only in animate, but also in inanimate objects. Thus in one of the elephant-charms given in the Appendix several different “mischiefs” are described as residing in earth, ant-hills, wood, water, stone, and elephants (or rhinoceroses) respectively. Again, in a deer-charm, various “mischiefs” are requested to return to their place of origin, i.e. to the Iguana (strictly speaking, the Monitor Lizard), Heart of Timber, and the Yellow Glow of Sunset. Yet another deer-charm calls upon “Badi” (as the offspring of the Jin Ibn Ujan, who resides in the clouds and hollows of the hills), to return thereto.[135]

I will now proceed to describe the ceremony of “casting out” these “mischiefs.”

The chief occasions on which this casting out takes place are, first, when somebody is ill, and his sickness is attributed to his accidental contact with (and consequent “possession by”) one of these mischiefs; and, secondly, when any wild animal or bird is killed. The ceremony of casting out the mischief from the carcases of big game will be found described under the heading of “Hunting Ceremonies.” I shall here confine myself to a brief description of the ceremony as conducted for the benefit of sick persons.

First make up a bunch of leaves (sa-chĕrek), consisting of the shrubs called pulut-pulut and sĕlaguri, with branches of the gandarusa and lĕnjuang merah (red dracæna), all of which are wrapped together in a leaf of the si-pulih, and tied round with a piece of tree-bark (kulit t’rap), or the akar gasing-gasing. With this leaf-brush you are to cast out the mischief. Then you grate on to a saucer small pieces of ebony wood, brazil wood, “laka” wood, sandalwood, and eagle-wood (lignaloes), mix them with water, putting in a few small pieces of scrap-iron, and rub the patient all over with the mixture.

As you do this, repeat the appropriate charm; then take the brush of leaves and stroke the patient all over downwards from head to foot, saying:—

“Peace be with you, Prophet Noah, to whom belong the trees,

And Prophet Elias who planted them.

I crave as a boon the leaves of these shrubs

To be a drug and a neutralising (power)

Within the body, frame, and person of So-and-So.

If you (addressing the leaves) refuse to enter (the body of So-and-So),

You shall be cursed with my ‘curse of the nine countries,’

By (the power of) the word ‘There is no god but God,’” etc.

Whilst reciting the above, stand upright, close to the patient’s head, grasping a spear in your left hand. Brandish this spear over the body of the patient, drawing a long breath.[136]

This spear must afterwards be ransomed, (say) for forty cents; in default of which payment it is forfeited to the medicine-man.

The directions for another form of the ceremony just described (“casting out the mischief”), are as follows:—

Whenever a person is suffering from the influence of a waxen image (such as is described elsewhere),[137] you must rub him (or her) all over with limes in order to “cast out the mischief.” These limes must be of seven different kinds, and you will require three of each kind. When you have got them, fumigate them with incense and repeat the appropriate charm, which is practically an appeal addressed to the spirit of the limes to assist in extracting the poisonous principle from the body of the sick man:—

“Peace be with you, O Lelang,

We have been brothers from the former time until now,

I am fain to order you to assist me in extracting everything that is poisonous

From the body and limbs of So-and-So.

Break not your solemn promise,

Break not your plighted faith,

And use not deceit or wiles,” etc.

Of course the luckless spirit is told that if he does not do exactly as he is bidden he must expect the curse to follow.

This charm must be repeated overnight, and early next morning three thicknesses of birah leaves must be laid down (for the patient to stand upon during the lustration). The seven sorts of limes are at the same time to be squeezed into a bowl and divided into three portions. These portions are to be used three times during the day, at sunrise, noon, and sundown respectively, partly for washing off the cosmetics (which are rubbed all over the body), and partly as a medicinal draught or potion.

In the morning the cosmetic must be white (bĕdak puteh lulut), at noon it must be red (bĕdak merah), and at sundown black (bĕdak hitam). The “trash” of the limes (after squeezing) is wrapped up in a birah leaf at evening, and either carried out to the sea (into which it is dropped), or deposited ashore at a safe distance from the house. The only special taboo mentioned for this ceremony is that the patient must not during its continuance meet anybody who has come from a distance.

Another very curious form of this ceremony of “casting out devils” was described to me by a Kelantan Malay. It is worked on the substitute or “scapegoat” principle (tukar ganti), and the idea is to make little dough images of all kinds of birds, beasts, fishes, and even inanimate objects (a few of the former being fowls, ducks, horses, apes, buffaloes, bullocks, wild cattle (sĕladang), deer, mouse-deer, and elephants, besides those enumerated in the charm itself, whilst exceptions are to be the “unlucky” animals (bĕnatang sial) such as cats, tigers, pigs, dogs, snakes, and iguanas). When made they are to be deposited together in a heap upon a sacrificial tray (anchak), together with betel-leaves, cigarettes, and tapers. One of the tapers is made to stand upon a silver dollar, with the end of a piece of particoloured thread inserted between the dollar and the foot of the taper; and the other end of this thread is given to the patient to hold whilst the necessary charm is being repeated.

Part of this charm is worth quoting, as it helps to explain the line of thought on which the medicine-man is working:—

“I have made a substitute for you,

And engage you for hire.

As for your wish to eat, I give you food,

As for your wish to drink, I give you drink.

Lo, I give you good measure whether of sharks,

Skates, lobsters, crabs, shell-fish (both of land and sea)—

Every kind of substitute I give you,

Good measure whether of flesh or of blood, both cooked and raw.

Accept, accept duly this banquet of mine.

It was good at the first: if it is not good now,

It is not I who give it.”

The explanation of this part of the ceremony is that the evil spirit, or “mischief,” is supposed to leave the body of the sick man, and to proceed (guided, of course, by the many-coloured thread which the patient holds in his hand) to enter into the choice collection of “scapegoats” lying in the tray. As soon as his devilship is got fairly into the tray, the medicine-man looses three slip-knots (lĕpas-lĕpas), and repeats a charm to induce the evil spirit to go, and throws away the untied knots outside the house.

The original “disease-boat” used in Selangor was a model of a special kind of Malay vessel called lanchang. This lanchang was a two-masted vessel with galleries (dandan) fore and aft, armed with cannon, and used by Malay Rajas on the Sumatran coast. This latter fact was, no doubt, one reason for its being selected as the type of boat most likely to prove acceptable to the spirits. To make it still further acceptable, however, the model was not unfrequently stained with turmeric or saffron, yellow being recognised as the royal colour among the Malays.

Occasionally, on the other hand, a mere raft (rakit) is set adrift, sometimes a small model of the balei (state-chamber), and sometimes only a set of the banana-leaf receptacles called limas.

The vessel in the case of an important person is occasionally of great size and excellent finish—indeed, local tradition has it that an exceptionally large and perfect specimen (which was launched upon the Klang river in Selangor some years ago, on the occasion of an illness of the Tungku ’Chik, eldest daughter of the late Sultan), was actually towed down to sea by the Government steam launch ʿAbdul Samad. When all is ready the lanchang is loaded with offerings, which are of an exactly similar character to those which are deposited on the sacrificial tray or anchak[138] already described. Then one end of a piece of yellow thread is fastened to the patient’s wrist (the other end being presumably made fast to the spirit-boat, or lanchang); incense is burnt and a charm recited, the purport of it being to persuade the evil spirits which have taken possession of the patient to enter on board the vessel. This, when they are thought to have done so, is then[139] taken down to the sea or river and set adrift, invariably at the ebb tide, which is supposed to carry the boat (and the spirits with it) “to another country.” One of the charms used at this stage of the ceremony even mentions the name of the country to which the devils are to be carried, the place singled out for this distinction being the Island of Celebes! The passage in question runs as follows:—

“Peace be unto you, Devils of the sea, and Demons of the sea,

Neither on cape, nor bay, nor sandbank be ye stuck or stranded!

This vessel (lanchang) is that of Arong,[140]

Do you assist in guarding this offering from his grandchildren,

And vex not this vessel.

I request you to escort it to the land of Celebes,

To its own place.

By the grace of,” etc.

This same charm is used mutatis mutandis for the Balei (Spirit-hall).

A common form of the “Lanchang” charm runs as follows:—

“Ho, elders of the upper reaches,

Elders of the lower reaches,

Elders of the dry land,

Elders of the river-flats,

Assemble ye, O people, Lords of hill and hill-foot,

Lords of cavern and hill-locked basin,

Lords of the deep primeval forest,

Lords of the river-bends,

Come on board this Lanchang, assembling in your multitudes,

So may ye depart with the ebbing stream,

Depart on the passing breeze,

Depart in the yawning earth,

Depart in the red-dyed earth.

Go ye to the ocean which has no wave,

And the plain where no green herb grows,

And never return hither.

But if ye return hither,

Ye shall be consumed by the curse.

At sea ye shall get no drink,

Ashore ye shall get no food,

But gape (in vain) about the world.

By the grace of,” etc.

Sometimes the crocodile-spirit is requested to act as the forwarding agent in the transaction; thus we find a short lanchang-charm running as follows:—

“Ho, Elder of the Sloping Bank, Jambu Agai,[141]

Receive this (lanchang) and forward it to the River-Bay,

It is So-and-So who presents it.

Sa-rĕkong is the name of the (spirit of the) Bay,

Sa-rĕking the name of the (spirit of the) Cape,

Si ʿAbas, their child, is the rocky islet;

I ask (you) to forward this present at once to the God of Mid-currents.”

A somewhat longer charm, which is given in the Appendix, commences by making an interesting point—

“Peace be with you! O crew newly come from your shipwrecked barque on the high seas,

Spurned by the billows, blown about by the gale;

Come on board (this lanchang) in turn and get you food.”

. . . . . . . . .

The speaker goes on to say that he recognises their right to levy toll all over the country, and has made this lanchang for them as a substitute (tukar ganti), implying, no doubt, in place of the one which they had lost. In any case, however, there can be little doubt that the “barque wrecked on the high seas” is the wasted body of the sick man, of which the spirits were so recently in possession, and in substitution for which they are offered the spirit-boat in question.

Tiger Spirit

I shall now proceed to describe the ceremony of invoking the Tiger Spirit for the purpose of obtaining his assistance in expelling a rival spirit of less power.

In the autumn of 1896 (in the Kuala Langat District of Selangor) the brother of my Malay collector ʿUmar happening to fall ill of some slight ailment, I asked and obtained permission to be present at the ceremony of doctoring the patient. The time fixed for the commencement of the ceremony (which is usually repeated for three consecutive nights) was seven o’clock on the following evening. On reaching the house at the time appointed I was met by ʿUmar, and ascending the house-ladder, was invited to seat myself upon a mat about two yards from the spot where the medicine-man was expected to take up his position. Having done so, and looking round, I found that there were in all nine persons present (including myself, but exclusive of the Pawang, his wife, or the patient), and I was informed that although it is not necessary for the same persons to be present on each of the three nights, the greatest care must be taken to see that the number of persons present, which should never, in strictness, be an even number, does not vary from night to night, because to allow any such variation would be to court disaster. Hence I myself was only enabled to be present as a substitute for one of the sick man’s relatives who had been there on the preceding night.[142]

Fig. 2.—Ceremony of invoking the tiger spirit.

The accompanying diagram shows (approximately) the relative positions of all who were present. In one corner of the room was the patient’s bed (sleeping-mat) and mosquito curtain with a patchwork front, and in a line parallel to the bed stood the three jars of water, each decorated with the sort of fringe or collar of plaited cocoa-nut fronds called “centipedes’ feet” (jari ’lipan), and each, too, furnished with a fresh yam-leaf covering to its mouth. A little nearer to me than the three water-jars, but in the same line, stood a fairly big jar similarly decorated, but filled with a big bouquet of artificial “flowers” and ornaments instead of the water. These flowers were skilfully manufactured from plaited strips of palm-leaf, and in addition to mere “flowers” represented such objects as rings, cocoa-nuts, centipedes, doves, and the like, all of which were made of the plaited fronds referred to. This invention was intended (I was informed) to represent a pleasure-garden (taman bunga), and indeed was so called; it was (I believe) intended to attract the spirit whom it was the object of the ceremony to invoke. In front of the three jars stood, as a matter of course, a censer filled with burning embers, and a box containing the usual accessories for the chewing of betel. Everything being now ready, the medicine-man appeared and took his seat beside the censer, his wife, an aged woman, whose office was to chant the invocation, to her own accompaniment, taking her seat at the same time near the head of the patient’s sleeping-mat. Presently she struck up the invocation (lagu pĕmanggil), and we listened in rapt attention as the voice, at first weak and feeble with age, gathered strength and wailed ever higher and shriller up to the climax at the end of the chant. At the time it was hard to distinguish the words, but I learnt from her afterwards that this was what she sang:—

“Peace be unto you, Pĕnglima Lenggang Laut!

Of no ordinary beauty

Is the Vessel of Pĕnglima Lenggang Laut!

The Vessel that is called ‘The Yellow Spirit-boat,’

The Vessel that is overlaid with vermilion and ivory,

The Vessel that is gilded all over;

Whose Mast is named ‘Prince Mĕndela,’

Whose Shrouds are named ‘The Shrouds that are silvered,’

Whose Oars are named ‘The Feet of the Centipede‘

(And whose Oarsmen are twice seven in number).

Whose Side is named ‘Civet-cat Fencing,’

Whose Rudder is named ‘The Pendulous Bees’-nest,’

Whose Galleries are named ‘Struggling Pythons,’

Whose Pennon flaps against the deckhouse,

Whose Streamers sport in the wind,

And whose Standard waves so bravely.

Come hither, good sir; come hither, my master,

It is just the right moment to veer your vessel.

Master of the Anchor, heave up the anchor;

Master of the Foretop, spread the sails;

Master of the Helm, turn the helm;

Oarsmen, bend your oars;

Whither is our vessel yawing to?

The vessel whose starting-place is the Navel of the Seas,

And that yaws towards the Sea where the ‘Pauh Janggi’ grows,

Sporting among the surge and breakers,

Sporting among the surge and following the wave-ridges.

It were well to hasten, O Pĕnglima Lenggang Laut,

Be not careless or slothful,

Linger not by inlet or river-reach,

Dally not with mistress or courtesan,

But descend and enter into your embodiment.”

A number of rhymed stanzas follow which will be found in the Appendix.

Meanwhile the medicine-man was not backward in his preparations for the proper reception of the spirit. First he scattered incense on the embers and fumigated himself therewith, “shampooing” himself, so to speak, with his hands, and literally bathing in the cloud of incense which volumed up from the newly-replenished censer and hung like a dense gray mist over his head. Next he inhaled the incense through his nostrils, and announced in the accents of what is called the spirit-language (bhasa hantu) that he was going to “lie down.” This he accordingly did, reclining upon his back, and drawing the upper end of his long plaid sarong over his head so as to completely conceal his features. The invocation was not yet ended, and for some time we sat in the silence of expectation. At length, however, the moment of possession arrived, and with a violent convulsive movement, which was startling in its suddenness, the “Pawang” rolled over on to his face. Again a brief interval ensued, and a second but somewhat less violent spasm shook his frame, the spasm being strangely followed by a dry and ghostly cough. A moment later and the Pawang, still with shrouded head, was seated bolt upright facing the tambourine player. Then he fronted round, still in a sitting posture, until he faced the jars, and removed the yam-leaf covering from the mouth of each jar in turn.

Next he kindled a wax taper at the flame of a lamp placed for the purpose just behind the jars, and planted it firmly on the brim of the first jar by spilling a little wax upon the spot where it was to stand. Two similar tapers having been kindled and planted upon the brims of the second and third jars, he then partook of a “chew” of betel-leaf (which was presented to him by one of the women present), crooning the while to himself.

This refreshment concluded, he drew from his girdle a bezoar or talismanic stone (batu pĕnawar), and proceeded to rub it all over the patient’s neck and shoulders. Then, facing about, he put on a new white jacket and head-cloth which had been placed beside him for his use, and girding his plaid (sarong) about his waist, drew from its sheath a richly-wrought dagger (k’ris) which he fumigated in the smoke of the censer and returned to its scabbard.

He next took three silver 20-cent pieces of “Straits” coinage, to serve as batu buyong, or “jar-stones,” and after “charming” them dropped each of the three in turn into one of the water-jars, and “inspected” them intently as they lay at the bottom of the water, shading, at the same time, his eyes with his hand from the light of the tapers. He now charmed several handfuls of rice (“parched,” “washed,” and “saffron” rice), and after a further inspection declared, in shrill, unearthly accents, that each of the coins was lying exactly under its own respective taper, and that therefore his “child” (the sick man) was very dangerously ill, though he might yet possibly recover with the aid of the spirit. Next, scattering the rice round the row of jars (the track of the rice thus forming an ellipse), he broke off several small blossom-stalks from a sheaf of areca-palm blossom, and making them up with sprays of champaka into three separate bouquets, placed one of these improvised nosegays in each of the three jars of water. On the floor at the back of the row of jars he next deposited a piece of white cloth, five cubits in length, which he had just previously fumigated. Again drawing the dagger already referred to, the Pawang now successively plunged it up to the hilt into each of the three bouquets (in which hostile spirits might, I was told, possibly be lurking). Then seizing an unopened blossom-spathe of the areca-palm, he anointed the latter all over with “oil of Celebes,” extracted the sheaf of palm-blossom from its casing, fumigated it, and laid it gently across the patient’s breast. Rapidly working himself up into a state of intense excitement, and with gestures of the utmost vehemence, he now proceeded to “stroke” the patient with the sheaf of blossom rapidly downwards, in the direction of the feet, on reaching which he beat out the blossom against the floor. Then turning the patient over on to his face, and repeating the stroking process, he again beat out the blossom, and then sank back exhausted upon the floor, where he lay face downwards, with his head once more enveloped in the folds of the sarong.

A long interval now ensued, but at length, after many convulsive twitchings, the shrouded figure arose, amid the intense excitement of the entire company, and went upon its hands and feet. The Tiger Spirit had taken possession of the Pawang’s body, and presently a low, but startlingly life-like growl—the unmistakable growl of the dreaded “Lord of the Forest”—seemed to issue from somewhere under our feet, as the weird shrouded figure began scratching furiously at the mat upon which it had been quietly lying, and then, with occasional pauses for the emission of the growls, which had previously startled us, and the performance of wonderful cat-like leaps, rapidly licked up the handfuls of rice which had been thrown upon the floor in front of it. This part of the performance lasted, however, but a few minutes, and then the evident excitement of the onlookers was raised to fever pitch, as the bizarre, and, as it seemed to our fascinated senses, strangely brute-like form stooped suddenly forward, and slowly licked over, as a tigress would lick its cub, the all but naked body of the patient—a performance (to a European) of so powerfully nauseating a character that it can hardly be conceived that any human being could persist in it unless he was more or less unconscious of his actions. At all events, after his complete return to consciousness at the conclusion of the ceremony, even the Pawang experienced a severe attack of nausea, such as might well be supposed to be the result of his performance. Meanwhile, however, the ceremony continued. Reverting to a sitting posture (though still with shrouded head), the Pawang now leaned forward over the patient, and with the point of his dagger drew blood from his own arm; then rising to his feet he engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand combat with his invisible foe (the spirit whom he had been summoned to exorcise). At first his weapon was the dagger, but before long he discarded this, and laid about him stoutly enough with the sheaf of areca-palm blossom.

Presently, however, he quieted down somewhat, and commenced to “stroke” the sick man (as before) with the sheaf of palm-blossom, beating out the blossom upon the floor as usual at the end of the operation. Then sitting down again and crooning to himself, he partook of betel-leaf, faced round towards the patient and stooped over him, muttering as he did so, and passing his hands all over the prostrate form. Next he turned once more to the jars and again plunged his dagger into each of them in turn (to make sure that the evil spirit was not lurking in them), and then drawing his head-cloth over his head so as to completely hide his face, he once more took his seat beside the patient, stooping over him from time to time and crooning charms as he did so.

Finally he clapped his hands, removed his head-cloth, “stroked” the patient over and flicked him with the corners of it, and then shrouding himself once more in the sarong, lay down at full length in a state of complete exhaustion. A pause of about ten minutes’ duration now followed, and then with sundry convulsive twitchings the Pawang returned to consciousness and sat up, and the ceremony was over.

The following description of a ceremony similar to the one just described is taken from Malay Sketches:—

“The bĕr-hantu is, of course, a survival of præ-Islam darkness, and the priests abominate it, or say they do; but they have to be a little careful, because the highest society affects the practice of the Black Art.

“To return to the king’s house. In the middle of the floor was spread a puâdal, a small narrow mat, at one end of which was seated a middle-aged woman dressed like a man in a short-sleeved jacket, trousers, a sârong, and a scarf fastened tightly round her waist. At the other end of the mat was a large newly-lighted candle in a candlestick. Between the woman and the taper were two or three small vessels containing rice coloured with turmeric, parched padi, and perfumed water. An attendant sat near at hand.

“The woman in male attire was the Pâwang, the Raiser of Spirits, the Witch, not of Endor, but of as great repute in her own country and among her own people. In ordinary life she was an amusing lady named Raja Ngah, a scion of the reigning house on the female side, and a member of a family skilled in all matters pertaining to occultism. In a corner of the room were five or six girls holding native drums, instruments with a skin stretched over one side only, and this is beaten usually with the fingers. The leader of this orchestra was the daughter of Raja Ngah.

“Shortly after I sat down, the proceedings began by the Pâwang covering her head and face with a silken cloth, while the orchestra began to sing a weird melody in an unknown tongue. I was told it was the spirit language; the air was one specially pleasing to a particular Jin, or Spirit, and the invocation, after reciting his praises, besought him to come from the mountains or the sea, from underground or overhead, and relieve the torments of the King.

“As the song continued, accompanied by the rhythmical beating of the drums, the Pâwang sat with shrouded head in front of the lighted taper, holding in her right hand against her left breast a small sheaf of the grass called daun sambau, tied tightly together and cut square at top and bottom.

“This châdak she shook, together with her whole body, by a stiffening of the muscles, while all eyes were fixed upon the taper.

“At first the flame was steady, but by and by, as the singers screamed more loudly to attract the attention of the laggard Spirit, the wick began to quiver and flare up, and it was manifest to the initiated that the Jin was introducing himself into the candle. By some means the Pâwang, who was now supposed to be ‘possessed’ and no longer conscious of her actions, became aware of this, and she made obeisance to the taper, sprinkling the floor round it with saffron-coloured rice and perfumed water; then, rising to her feet and followed by the attendant, she performed the same ceremony before each male member of the reigning family present in the room, murmuring all the while a string of gibberish addressed to the Spirit. This done, she resumed her seat on the mat, and, after a brief pause, the minstrels struck up a different air, and, singing the praises of another Jin, called upon him to come and relieve the King’s distress.

“I ascertained that each Malay State has its own special Spirits, each district is equally well provided, and there are even some to spare for special individuals. In this particular State there are four principal Jin; they are the Jin ka-râja-an, the State Spirit—also called Junjong dŭnia udâra, Supporter of the Firmament; Mâia udâra, the Spirit of the Air; Mahkôta si-râja Jin, the Crown of Royal Spirits; and S’tan Ali.

“These four are known as Jin âruah, Exalted Spirits, and they are the guardians of the Sultan and the State. As one star exceeds another in glory, so one Jin surpasses another in renown, and I have named them in the order of their greatness. In their honour four white and crimson umbrellas were hung in the room, presumably for their use when they arrived from their distant homes. Only the Sultan of the State is entitled to traffic with these distinguished Spirits; when summoned they decline to move unless appealed to with their own special invocations, set to their own peculiar music, sung by at least four singers, and led by a Bĕduan (singer) of the royal family. The Jin ka-râja-an is entitled to have the royal drums played by the State drummers if his presence is required, but the other three have to be satisfied with the instruments I have described.

“There are common devils who look after common people; such as Hantu Songkei, Hantu Malâyu, and Hantu Blîan; the last the ‘Tiger Devil,’ but out of politeness he is called ‘Blîan,’ to save his feelings.

“Then there is Kĕmâla ajaib, the ‘Wonderful Jewel,’ Israng, Raja Ngah’s special familiar, and a host of others. Most hantu have their own special Pâwangs, and several of these were carrying on similar proceedings in adjoining buildings, in order that the sick monarch might reap all the benefits to be derived from a consultation of experts, and as one spirit after another notified his advent by the upstarting flame of the taper, it was impossible not to feel that one was getting into the very best society.

Fig. 3.—Sixteen-sided stand used at the invocation of spirits.

“Meanwhile a sixteen-sided stand, about six inches high and shaped like this diagram, had been placed on the floor near the Pâwang’s mat. The stand was decorated with yellow cloth; in its centre stood an enormous candle, while round it were gaily-decorated rice and toothsome delicacies specially prized by Jin. There was just room to sit on this stand, which is called Pĕtrâna panchalôgam (meaning a seat of this particular shape), and the Sultan, supported by many attendants, was brought out and sat upon it. A veil was placed on his head, the various vessels were put in his hands, he spread the rice round the taper, sprinkled the perfume, and having received into his hand an enormous châdak of grass, calmly awaited the coming of the Jin Ka-râja-an, while the minstrels shouted for him with all their might.

“The Sultan sat there for some time, occasionally giving a convulsive shudder, and when this taper had duly flared up, and all the rites had been performed, His Highness was conducted back again to his couch, and the Pâwang continued her ministrations alone.

“Whilst striding across the floor she suddenly fell down as though shot, and it was explained to me that Israng, the spirit by whom she was possessed, had seen a dish-cover, and that the sight always frightened him to such an extent that his Pâwang fell down. The cause of offence was removed, and the performance continued.

“There are other spirits who cannot bear the barking of a dog, the mewing of a cat, and so on.

“Just before dawn there was a sudden confusion within the curtains which hid the Sultan’s couch; they were thrown aside, and there lay the King, to all appearance in a swoon. The Jin Ka-râja-an had taken possession of the sick body, and the mind was no longer under its owner’s control.

“For a little while there was great excitement, and then the King recovered consciousness, was carried to a side verandah, and a quantity of cold water poured over him.

“So ended the séance.

“Shortly after, the Sultan, clothed and in his right mind, sent to say he would like to speak to me. He told me he took part in this ceremony to please his people, and because it was a very old custom, and he added, ‘I did not know you were there till just now; I could not see you because I was not myself and did not know what I was doing.’

“The King did not die, after all—on the contrary, I was sent for twice again because he was not expected to live till the morning, and yet he cheated Death—for a time.”[143]

The ceremony called Mĕngalin, or the “sucking charm” ceremony, is one which is very curious, and deserves to be described in some detail.

First of all you perform the ceremony called “Driving out the Mischief” (buang badi) from the sick man (vide supra) in or to drive away all evil spirits (mĕnolak sakalian chĕkĕdi atau hantu). Then wrap the patient up in a white or black cloth, and taking a ball of (kneaded) dough (tĕpong pĕngalin), eggs and saffron, repeat the suitable charm, and roll it all over the skin of the patient’s body in order to draw out all poisonous influences (mĕnchabut sagala bisa-bisa). Then if you find inside the ball of dough after opening it an infinitesimally small splinter of bone, or a few red hairs, you will know that these belong to the evil spirit who has been plaguing the patient. The charm to be used when rolling the ball of dough over the skin runs as follows:—

“Peace be unto you, O Shadowy Venom!

Venom be at ease no longer!

Venom find shelter no longer!

Venom take your ease no longer!

May you be blown upon, O Venom, by the passing breeze!

May you be blown upon, O Venom, by the yellow sunset-glow,

May the Pounce of this Lanthorn’s lightning kill you;

May the Pounce of this Twilight’s lanthorn kill you,

May the Shaft of the Thunderbolt kill you;

May the Fall of the heavy Rains kill you,

May the Inundation of Flood-waters kill you;

May you be towed till you are swamped by this my head-cloth,

May you be drowned in the swell of this my dough-boat.

By the grace of,” etc.

A second charm of great length follows, the object of which is to drive out the evil spirit in possession of the man.

An example of this form of cure as practised by Malay medicine-men is referred to by Mr. Clifford, who, in speaking of his punkah-puller, Umat, says:—

“It was soon after his marriage that his trouble fell upon Umat, and swept much of the sunshine from his life. He contracted a form of ophthalmia, and for a time was blind. Native Medicine Men doctored him, and drew sheaves of needles and bunches of thorns from his eyes, which they declared were the cause of his affliction. These miscellaneous odds and ends used to be brought to me at breakfast-time, floating, most unappetisingly, in a shallow cup half-full of water; and Umat went abroad with eye-sockets stained crimson, or black, according to the fancy of the native physician. The aid of an English doctor was called in, but Umat was too thoroughly a Malay to trust the more simple remedies prescribed to him, and though his blindness was relieved, and he became able to walk without the aid of a staff, his eyesight could never really be given back to him.”[144]

In the above connection I may remark that, whether from the working of their own imaginations or otherwise, those who were believed to be possessed by demons certainly suffered, and that severely. H.H. Raja Kahar, the son of H.H. the late Sultan of Selangor, was attacked by a familiar demon during my residence in the Langat District, and shortly afterwards commenced to pine away. He declared that the offending demon was sitting in his skull, at the back of his head, and that it dragged up and devoured everything that he swallowed. Hence he refused at length to eat any sort of solid food, and gradually wasted away until he became a mere skeleton, and went about imploring people to take a hatchet and split his skull open, in order to extract the demon which he believed it to contain. Gradually his strength failed, and at length I learned from H.H. the Sultan (then Raja Muda) that all the Malays in the neighbourhood had assembled to wail at his decease. As we strolled among the cocoa-nut palms and talked, I told him of the many miraculous cures which had attended cases of faith-healing in England, and suggested, not of course expecting to be taken seriously, that he should try the effect of such a cure upon his uncle, and “make believe” to extract some “mantises” from the back of his head. To my intense astonishment some days later, I learned that this idea had been carried out during my temporary absence from the district, and that the Muhammadan priest, after cupping him severely, had shown him seven large mantises which he pretended to have extracted from the back of his head. The experiment proved extraordinarily successful, and Raja Kahar recovered at all events for the time. He declared, however, that there were more of these mantises left, and eventually suffered a relapse and died during my absence in England on leave. For the time, however, the improvement was quite remarkable, and when Said Mashahor, the Pĕnghulu of Kerling, visited him a few days later, Raja Kahar, after an account of the cure from his own point of view, declared that nobody would now believe that he had been so ill, although “no fewer than seven large mantises” had been “extracted from his head.”

I now give a specimen of the ceremonies used for recalling a wandering soul by means of a dough figure or image (gambar tĕpong). It is not stated whether any of the usual accessories of these figures (hair and nails, etc.) are mixed with the dough, but an old and famous soul-doctor (’Che Amal, of Jugra) told me that the dough figure should be made, in strictness, from the ball of kneaded dough which is rolled all over the patient’s body by the medicine-man during the “sucking-charm” ceremony (mĕngalin). The directions for making it run as follows:—

Make an image of dough, in length about nine inches, and representing the opposite sex to that of the patient. Deposit it (on its back) upon five cubits of white cloth, which must be folded up small for the purpose, and then plant a miniature green umbrella (made of cloth coated thickly with wax, and standing from four to five inches in height) at the head of the image, and a small green clove-shaped taper (of about the same height) at its feet. Then burn incense; take three handfuls each of “parched,” “washed,” and “saffron” rice, and scatter them thrice round the figure, saying as you do so:—

“O Flying Paper,

Come and fly into this cup.

Pass by me like a shadow,

I am applying the charm called the ‘Drunken Stars[145]’

Drunken stars are on my left,

A full moon (lit. 14th day moon) is on my right,

And the Umbrella of Si Lanchang is opposite to me

Grant this by virtue of ‘There is no god but God,’” etc.

The statement that this dough image should represent the opposite sex to that of the patient should be received with caution, and requires further investigation to clear it up. My informant explained that the “Flying Paper” (krĕtas layang-layang) referred to the soul-cloth, and the “cup” to the image, but if this explanation is accepted, it is yet not unlikely that a real cup was used in the original charm. The “drunken stars” he explained as referring to the parched rice scattered on his left, and the full moon to the eyes of the image. Arguing from the analogy of other ceremonies conducted on the same lines, the wandering soul would be recalled and induced to enter the so-called cup (i.e. the dough image), and being transferred thence to the soul-cloth underneath it, would be passed on to the patient in the soul-cloth itself.

Another way to recall a soul (which was taught me by ’Che ʿAbas of Kelantan) is to take seven betel-leaves with meeting leaf-ribs (sirih bĕrtĕmu urat), and make them up into seven “chews” of betel. Then take a plateful of saffron-rice, parched rice, and washed rice, and seven pieces of parti-coloured thread (bĕnang pancharona tujoh urat) and an egg; deposit these at the feet of the sick man, giving him one end of the thread to hold, and fastening the other end to the egg.

The soul is then called upon to return to the house which it has deserted, is caught in a soul-cloth, and passed (it is thought) first of all into the egg, and thence back into the patient’s body by means of the thread which connects the egg with the patient. The charm runs as follows:—

“Peace be with you, O Breath!

Hither, Breath, come hither!

Hither, Soul, come hither!

Hither, Little One, come hither!

Hither, Filmy One, come hither!

Hither, I am sitting and praising you!

Hither, I am sitting and waving to you!

Come back to your house and house-ladder,

To your floor of which the planks have started,

To your thatch-roof ‘starred’ (with holes).

Do not bear grudges,

Do not bear malice,

Do not take it as a wrong,

Do not take it as a transgression.

Here I sit and praise you.

Here I sit and drag you (home),

Here I sit and shout for you,

Here I sit and wave to you,

Come at this very time, come at this very moment,” etc.

Another way of recalling the soul is as follows:—

Put some husked rice in a rice-bag (sumpit) with an egg, a nail, and a candle-nut; scatter it (kirei) thrice round the patient’s head, and deposit the bag behind his pillow (di kapala tidor), after repeating this charm:—

“Cluck, cluck, souls of So-and-so, all seven of you,

Return ye unto your own house and house-ladder!

Here are your parents come to summon you back,

Back to your own house and house-ladder, your own clearing and yard,

To the presence of your own parents, of your own family and relations,

Go not to and fro,

But return to your own home.”

When three days have expired, gather up the rice again and put it all back into the bag. If there is a grain over throw it to the fowls, but if the measure falls short repeat the ceremony.

Again, in order to recall an escaping soul (riang sĕmangat) the soul-doctor will take a fowl’s egg, seven small cockle-shells (kulit k’rang tujoh kĕping), and a kal[146] of husked rice, and put them all together into a rice-bag (sumpit). He then rubs the bag all over the skin of the patient’s body, shakes the contents well up together, and deposits it again close to the patient’s head. Whilst shaking them up he repeats the following charm:—

“Cluck! cluck! soul of this sick man, So-and-so,

Return into the frame and body of So-and-so,

To your own house and house-ladder, to your own ground and yard,

To your own parents, to your own sheath.”

At the end of three days he measures the rice; if the amount has increased, it signifies that the soul has returned; if it is the same as before, it is still half out of the body; if less, the soul has escaped and has not yet returned. In this case the soul is expected to enter the rice and thus cause its displacement.

Another method, not of recalling the soul, but of stopping it in the act of escaping, is to take a gold ring, not less than a maiam[147] in weight, an iron nail, a candle-nut (buah k’ras), three small cockle-shells, three closed fistfuls of husked rice (b’ras tiga gĕnggam bunyi), and some parti-coloured thread. These articles are all put in a rice-bag, and shaken up together seven times every morning for three days, by which time the soul is supposed to be firmly reseated in the patient’s body; then the rice is poured out at the door “to let the fowls eat it.” The ring is tied to the patient’s wrist by means of a strip of tree-bark (kulit t’rap), and it is by means of this string that the soul is supposed to return to its body. When the shaking takes place the following charm must be recited:—

“Peeling-Knife,[148] hooked Knife,

Stuck into the thatch-wall!

Sea-demons! Hamlet-demons!

Avaunt ye, begone from here,

And carry not off the soul of So-and-so,” etc.

In conclusion, I will give a quotation from Malay Sketches, which is perhaps as good an example as could be given of the way in which the Black Art and the medical performances that in their methods closely resemble it, are regarded by many respectable Malays:—

“One evening I was discussing these various superstitions with the Sultan of Perak, and I did not notice that the spiritual teacher of His Highness had entered and was waiting to lead the evening prayer. The guru, or teacher, no doubt heard the end of our conversation, and was duly scandalised, for the next day I received from him a letter, of which the following is the translation:—

“‘First praise to God, the Giver of all good, a Fountain of Compassion to His servants.

“‘From Haji Wan Muhammad, Teacher of His Highness the Sultan of Perak, to the Resident who administers the Government of Perak.

“‘The whole earth is in the hand of the Most High God, and He gives it as an inheritance to whom He will of His subjects. The true religion is also of God, and Heaven is the reward of those who fear the Most High. Salvation and peace are for those who follow the straight path, and only they will in the end arrive at real greatness. No Raja can do good, and none can be powerful, except by the help of God, the Most High, who is also Most Mighty.

“‘I make ten thousand salutations. I wish to inquire about the practice of bĕr-hantu, driving oneself mad and losing one’s reason, as has been the custom of Rajas and Chiefs in this State of Perak; is it right, according to your religion, Mr. Resident, or is it not? For that practice is a deadly sin to the Muhammadan Faith, because those who engage in it lose their reason and waste their substance for nothing; some of them cast it into the water, while others scatter it broadcast through the jungle. How is such conduct treated by your religion, Mr. Resident; is it right or wrong? I want you in your indulgence to give me an answer, for this practice is very hard on the poor. The Headmen collect from the rayats, and then they make elaborate preparations of food, killing a buffalo or fowls, and all this is thrown away as already stated. According to the Muhammadan religion such proceedings lead to destruction.

“‘I salute you many times; do not be angry, for I do not understand your customs, Mr. Resident.

“‘(Signed) Haji Muhammad Abu Hassan.’”[149]