From North Pole to Equator: Studies of Wild Life and Scenes in Many Lands

by Alfred Edmund Brehm

The performance was at an end. On the Ural Mountains lay the last glow of midnight. Everyone left the tent, the faces of the Russians showing the same credulity as those of the Ostiaks and Samoyedes. But we invited the shaman to accompany us to our boat, loosened his tongue and that of his disciple with brandy, and plied him with all manner of cross-questions, some of them of the subtlest kind. He answered them all, without exception, without ever getting into a difficulty, without hesitation, without even reflection; he answered them full of conviction, and convincingly, clearly, definitely, tersely, and to the point, so that we recognized more clearly than before the extreme craftiness of the man with whom we had to deal.

He described to us how, even in his boyhood, the spirit had come upon him and had tortured him till he became the disciple of a shaman; how he had become more and more intimate with Yamaul, the messenger of the gods, who appears to him as a friendly man, riding on a swift horse, and carrying a staff in his hand; how Yamaul hastened to his help, and even, if need were, called down aid from heaven when he, the shaman, was struggling with evil spirits often for several days at a time; how the messenger of the gods must always communicate the message to him just as he received it, for that otherwise he felt every drum-beat as a painful stroke; how Yamaul, even to-day, though visible to him only, sat behind him in the tshum and whispered the words in his ear. He also informed us that, by his own art, or by the grace bestowed upon him, which even his conversion to Christianity could not weaken, he could reveal what was hidden, find what was stolen, recognize diseases, prophesy the death or recovery of the sick, see and banish the ghosts of the dead, work much evil, and prevent much evil, but that he did nothing but good, because he feared the gods; he gave us a clear and detailed, if not quite correct picture of the religion of the Ostiaks and Samoyedes; he assured us that all his people, as well as the Ostiaks, came to him in their troubles to ask advice, or to have the future unveiled, and that they did not doubt, but trusted in him and believed him.

The last statement is not correct. The great mass of the people may regard the shaman as a wise man, perhaps even as an intermediary between men and the gods, and possibly as the possessor of mysterious power; but many believe his words and works as little as other races do those of their priests. The real faith of the people is simpler and more child-like than the shaman approves of. It is here as elsewhere; the priest, or whoever acts as such, peoples heaven with gods, and councillors and servants of the gods, but the people know nothing of this celestial court.

According to the belief of the people there is enthroned in heaven Ohrt, whose name signifies “the end of the world”. He is an all-powerful spirit, who rules over everything but Death, and he is benevolently inclined towards men. He is the giver of all good, the bestower of reindeer, fish, and furred animals, the preventer of evil, and the avenger of lies, severe only when promises made to him are not fulfilled. Feasts are held in his honour, sacrifices and prayers are offered to him; the suppliant who prostrates himself before a sacred symbol thinks of him. The symbol, called a longch, may be of carved wood, a bundle of cloth, a stone, a skin, or anything else: it possesses no powers, affords no protection, it is in no sense a fetish! People assemble before a longch, place it in front of the tshum, lay dishes of fish, reindeer flesh, or other offering before it, place valuables before it, or even pack them inside it; but they always look up to heaven, and both their offerings and their prayers are intended for their god. Evil spirits dwell in heaven as on earth; but Ohrt is more powerful than they all; only Death is mightier than he. There is no everlasting life after death, and no resurrection; but the dead still wander as ghosts over the face of the earth, and have still power to do good or evil.

Fig. 65.—The Burial of an Ostiak.

When an Ostiak dies his spirit-life begins at once; so his friends proceed immediately to arrange for his burial. They had all assembled before his death, and as soon as life is extinct they kindle a fire in the tshum in which the body lies, and keep it burning until they set out for the burial-place. A shaman is called to ask the dead where he wishes to lie. This is done by naming a place, and attempting to raise the head of the corpse. If the dead man approves he lets his head be raised; if he does not, three men cannot move it. Then the question must be repeated until the man gives his consent. Skilled persons are despatched to the chosen spot to prepare the grave, for this work often requires several days.

The burial-places are always in the tundra, on elevated spots, usually on a long ridge; the coffins are more or less artistically wrought chests, which are placed above the ground. Failing solid planks to construct the coffin, a boat is cut up and the corpse is laid in that; only the very poor people dig in the ground a shallow hollow in which to bury their dead.

The corpse is not washed, but is arrayed in festive garments, the hair anointed, and the face covered with a cloth. All the rest of the deceased’s clothing is given to the poor. The Ostiaks never touch the dead body of a stranger with their hands, but they do not hesitate to touch a loved relative, and even to kiss his cold face with tears in their eyes. The corpse is brought to the burial-place on a sledge, or in a boat, and is accompanied by all the relatives and friends. A reindeer-skin, on which the dead is to rest, is laid in the chest or coffin. At the head and sides are placed tobacco, pipes, and all manner of implements which the dead man was wont to use in his lifetime. Then the corpse is lifted with cords, carried to the chest, and laid on the bed thus prepared; the face is covered for the last time, a piece of birch-bark is spread over the open top of the chest, which, if the family be a rich one, is perhaps first covered with costly skins and cloths, the lid of the chest is put on above the sheet of bark, or at least heavy branches are laid close together upon it. Around and under the chest are laid such implements as could not be placed within it, but they are first broken up and thus rendered useless for the living, or, according to Ostiak ideas, made the ghosts of what they were.

Meanwhile, a fire has been kindled in the neighbourhood of the grave, and one or more reindeer slaughtered, and now the flesh is eaten, raw or cooked, by the funeral company. After the meal, the skulls of the slaughtered reindeer are fixed upon a pole, their harness is hung on the pole or on a tree, the bells they have worn on this, as on all solemn occasions, are hung on the top of the coffin itself, the sledge is broken to pieces and thrown beside the grave as its last ornament. Then the company travels homewards. Mourning is now silenced, and the daily round of life begins again.