Thus here, as in all cases of belief, there is a certain latitude, within which the opinions and views may vary, and only the broad outline, which surrounds them, is definitely fixed by tradition, embodied in ritual, and expressed by the phraseology of magical formulæ or by the statements of a myth.
I have thus defined the manner in which the natives face the dangers of the sea; we have found, that the fundamental conceptions underlying this attitude are, that in shipwreck, men are entirely in the hands of the witches, and that from this, only their own magical defence can save them. This defence consists in the rites and formulæ of the kayga’u, of which we have also learnt the leading principles. Now, a consecutive description must be given of how this magic is performed when a toliwaga sets out on an expedition. And following up this expedition, it must be told how the natives imagine a shipwreck, and what they believe the behaviour of the shipwrecked party would be.
III
I shall give this narrative in a consecutive manner, as it was told to me by some of the most experienced and renowned Trobriand sailors in Sinaketa, Oburaku, and Omarakana. We can imagine that exactly such a narrative would be told by a veteran toliwaga to his usagelu on the beach of Yakum, as our Kula party sit round the camp fires at night. One of the old men, well-known for the excellence of his kayga’u, and boastful of it, would tell his story, entering minutely into all the details, however often the others might have heard about them before, or even assisted at the performance of his magic. He would then proceed to describe, with extreme realism, and dwelling graphically on every point, the story of a shipwreck, very much as if he had gone through one himself. As a matter of fact, no one alive at present has had any personal experience of such a catastrophe, though many have lived through frequent narrow escapes in stormy weather. Based on this, and on what they have heard themselves of the tradition of shipwrecks, natives will tell the story with characteristic vividness. Thus, the account given below is not only a summary of native belief, it is an ethnographic document in itself, representing the manner in which such type of narrative would be told over camp fires, the same subject being over and over again repeated by the same man, and listened to by the same audience, exactly as we, when children, or the peasants of Eastern Europe, will hearken to familiar fairy tales and Märchen. The only deviation here from what would actually take place in such a story-telling, is the insertion of magical formulæ into the narrative. The speaker might indeed repeat his magic, were he speaking in broad daylight, in his village, to a group of close kinsmen and friends. But being on a small island in the middle of the ocean, and at night, the recital of spells would be a taboo of the kayga’u; nor would a man ever recite his magic before a numerous audience, except on certain occasions at mortuary vigils, where people are expected to chant their magic aloud before hundreds of listeners.
Returning then again to our group of sailors, who sit under the stunted pandanus trees of Yakum, let us listen to one of the companions of the daring Maradiana, now dead, to one of the descendants of the great Maniyuwa. He will tell us how, early in the morning, on the day of departure from Sinaketa, or sometimes on the next morning, when they leave Muwa, he performs the first rite of kayga’u. Wrapping up a piece of leyya (wild ginger root) in a bit of dried banana leaf, he chants over it the long spell of the giyorokaywa, the kayga’u of the Above. He chants this spell into the leaf, holding it cup-shaped, with the morsel of ginger root at the bottom, so that the spell might enter into the substance to be medicated. After that, the leaf is immediately wrapped round, so as to imprison the magical virtue, and the magician ties the parcel round his left arm, with a piece of bast or string. Sometimes he will medicate two bits of ginger and make two parcels, of which the other will be placed in a string necklet, and carried on his breast. Our narrator, who is the master of one of the canoes, will probably not be the only one within the circle round the camp fire, who carries these bundles of medicated ginger; for though a toliwaga must always perform this rite as well as know all the other magic of shipwreck, as a rule several of the older members of his crew also know it, and have also prepared their magical bundles.
This is one of the spells of the giyorokaywa, such as the old man said over the ginger root:
Giyorokaywa No. 1 (Leyya Kayga’u).
“I will befog Muyuwa!” (repeated). “I will befog Misima!” (repeated). “The mist springs up; the mist makes them tremble. I befog the front, I shut off the rear; I befog the rear, I shut off the front. I fill with mist, mist springs up; I fill with mist, the mist which makes them tremble.”
This is the opening part of the formula, very clear, and easy to be translated. The mist is magically invoked, the word for mist being repeated with several verbal combinations, in a rhythmic and alliterative manner. The expression tremble, maysisi, refers to a peculiar belief, that when a sorcerer or sorceress approaches the victim, and this man paralyses them with a counter spell, they lose their bearings, and stand there trembling.
The main part of this spell opens up with the word ‘aga’u,’ ‘I befog,’ which, like all such leading words of a spell is first of all intoned in a long, drawn-out chant, and then quickly repeated with a series of words. Then the word ‘aga’u’ is replaced by ‘aga’u sulu,’ ‘I befog, lead astray,’ which in its turn makes way for, ‘aga’u boda,’ ‘I befog, shut off.’ The list of words repeated in succession with each of these three expressions is a long one. It is headed by the words ‘the eyes of the witches.’ Then, ‘the eyes of the sea-crab.’ Then, always with the word ‘eyes,’ the animals, worms and insects which threaten drowning men in the sea, are enumerated. After they are exhausted, the various parts of the body are repeated; then finally, a long list of villages is recited, preceded by the word aga’u, forming phrases such as: “I befog the eyes of the women of Wawela, etc.”
Let us reconstruct a piece of this middle part in a consecutive manner. “I befog …! I befog, I befog, the eyes of the witches! I befog the eyes of the little crabs! I befog the eyes of the hermit crab! I befog the eyes of the insects on the beach! … etc.”
“I befog the hand, I befog the foot, I befog the head. I befog the shoulders … etc.”
“I befog the eyes of the women of Wawela; I befog the eyes of the women of Kaulasi; I befog the eyes of the women of Kumilabwaga, I befog the eyes of the women of Vakuta … etc., etc.”
“I befog, lead astray, the eyes of the witches; I befog, lead astray the eyes of the little crab! … etc.”
“I befog, shut off the eyes of the witches, I befog, shut off the eyes of the little crab … etc., etc.”
It can easily be seen how long drawn such a spell is, especially as in this middle part, the magician will often come back to where he has started, and repeat the leading word over and over again with the others. Indeed, this can be taken as a typical tapwana, or middle part, of a long spell, where the leading words are, so to speak, well rubbed into the various other expressions. One feature of this middle part is remarkable, namely, that the beings from below, the crabs, the sea insects and worms are invoked, although the spell is one of the giyorokaywa type, the magic of the Above. This is an inconsistency frequently met with; a contradiction between the ideas embodied in the spell, and the theory of the magic, as explicitly formulated by the informants. The parts of the body enumerated in the tapwana refer to the magician’s own person, and to his companions in the canoe. By this part of the spell, he surrounds himself and all his companions with mist, which makes them invisible to all the evil influences.
After the long tapwana has been recited, there follows the last part, which, however, is not chanted in this case, but spoken in a low, persuasive, tender voice.
“I hit thy flanks; I fold over thy mat, thy bleached mat of pandanus; I shall make it into thy mantle. I take thy sleeping doba (grass skirt), I cover thy loins; remain there, snore within thy house! I alone myself” (here the reciter’s name is uttered) “I shall remain in the sea, I shall swim!”
This last part throws some interesting sidelights on native belief in mulukwausi. We see here the expression of the idea that the body of the witch remains in the house, whilst she herself goes out on her nefarious errand. Molilakwa, the magician of Oburaku who gave me this spell, said in commentary to this last part:
“The yoyova casts off her body (inini wowola—which really means ‘peals off her skin’); she lies down and sleeps, we hear her snoring. Her covering (kapwalela that is, her outward body, her skin) remains in the house, and she herself flies (titolela biyova). Her skirt remains in the house, she flies naked. When she meets men, she eats us. In the morning, she puts on her body, and lies down in her hut. When we cover her loins with the doba, she cannot fly any more.”