The obliterating of traces will be made clearer by the account which follows, in which we shall see that to obliterate traces, to put off the scent the shark and mulukwausi are the main concerns of the shipwrecked party. The middle part refers to sharks only, and so does the peroration. The passage of Kiyawa near Tuma is mentioned in several types of magical exorcisms, when the evil influence is being banished. This passage lies between the main island and the island of Tuma, and leads into the unknown regions of the North-Western seas.
It will be best to quote here another formula of the giyotanawa type, and a very dramatic one. For this is the formula spoken at the critical moment of shipwreck. At the moment when the sailors decide to abandon the craft and to plunge into the sea, the toliwaga stands up in the canoe, and slowly turning round so as to throw his words towards all four winds, intones in a loud voice this spell:
Giyotanawa No. 2.
“Foam, foam, breaking wave, wave! I shall enter into the breaking wave, I shall come out from behind it. I shall enter from behind into the wave, and I shall come out in its breaking foam!”
“Mist, gathering mist, encircling mist, surround, surround me!”
“Mist, gathering mist, encircling mist, surround, surround me, my mast!
Mist, gathering mist, etc. … surround me, the nose of my canoe.
Mist, etc. … surround me, my sail,
Mist, etc. … surround me, my steering oar,
Mist, etc. … surround me, my rigging,
Mist, etc. … surround me, my platform,”
And so on, enumerating one after the other all the parts of the canoe and its accessories. Then comes the final part of the spell:
“I shut off the skies with mist; I make the sea tremble with mist; I close up your mouth, sharks, bonubonu (small worms), ginukwadewo (other worms). Go underneath and we shall swim on top.”
Little is needed as a commentary to this magic. Its beginning is very clear, and singularly well depicts the situation in which it is uttered. The end refers directly to the primary aim of the magic, to the warding off of the Underneath, of the dangerous animals in the sea. The only ambiguity refers to the middle part, where the magical leading words of ‘enveloping by mist’ are associated with a list of names of the parts of the canoe. I am not certain whether this is to be interpreted, in the sense that the toliwaga wants to surround his whole canoe with mist so that it may not be seen by the sharks, etc., or whether, on the contrary, just on the verge of abandoning his canoe, and anxious to cut himself off from its various parts which may turn on him and ‘eat him,’ he therefore wants to surround each of them with mist so that it may be blinded. The latter interpretation fits the above-quoted belief that certain parts of the canoe, especially the carved human figures on the prow-board and the mast, the ribs of the canoe, and certain other parts of its construction, ‘eat’ the shipwrecked men. But again, in this spell, there are enumerated not certain parts, but every part, and that undoubtedly is not consistent with this belief, so the question must remain open.
IV
I have anticipated some of the events of the consecutive narrative of shipwreck, in order to give the two last mentioned magical formulæ first, and not to have to interrupt the tale of our toliwaga, to which we now return. We left it at the point where, having said his first two kayga’u formulæ over the ginger and into the lime pot, he embarks, keeping these two things handy, and putting some binabina stones within his reach. From here, his narrative becomes more dramatic. He describes the approaching storm:
Narrative of Shipwreck and Salvage.
“The canoe sails fast; the wind rises; big waves come; the wind booms, du-du-du-du …. The sails flutter; the lamina (outrigger) rises high! All the usagelu crouch on the lamina. I speak magic to calm the wind. The big spell of the Sim-sim. They know all about yavata (North-Westerley Monsoon wind). They live in the eye of the yavata. The wind abates not, not a little bit. It booms, it gains strength, it booms loud du-du-du-du-du. All the usagelu are afraid. The mulukwausi scream, u-ú, u-ú, u-ú, u; their voices are heard in the wind. With the wind they scream and come flying. The veva (sheet rope) is torn from the hands of the tokabinaveva. The sail flutters freely in the wind; it is torn away. It flies far into the sea; it falls on the waters. The waves break over the canoe. I stand up. I take the binabina stones; I recite the kayga’u over them, the giyotanawa, the spell of the Underneath. The short spell, the very strong spell. I throw the stones into the deep. They weigh down the sharks, the vineylida; they close the Gaping Depth. The fish cannot see us. I stand up, I take my lime pot; I break it. The lime I throw into the wind. It wraps us up in mist. Such a mist that no one can see us. The mulukwausi lose sight of us. We hear them shout near by. They shout u-û, u-û, u-û, u. The sharks, the bonubonu, the soka do not see us; the water is turbid. The canoe is swamped, the water is in it. It drifts heavily, the waves break over us. We break the vatotuwa, (the sticks joining the float to the platform). The lamina (outrigger float) is severed; we jump from the waga; we catch hold of the lamina. On the lamina we drift. I utter the great Kaytaria spell; the big fish iraviyaka comes. It lifts us. It takes the lamina on its back, and carries us. We drift, we drift, we drift.”
“We approach a shore; the iraviyaka brings us there, the iraviyaka puts us on the shallows. I take a stout pole, I lift it off; I speak a spell. The iraviyaka turns back to the deep sea.”
“We are all on the dayaga (fringing reef). We stand inwater. The water is cold, we all shiver with cold. We do not go ashore. We are afraid of the mulukwausi. They follow us ashore. They wait for us ashore. I take a dakuna (piece of coral stone), I say a spell over it. I throw the stone on the beach; it makes a big thud; good; the mulukwausi are not there. We go ashore. Another time, I throw a stone, we hear nothing: mulukwausi are on the beach; they catch it; we hear nothing. We remain on the dayaga. I take some leyya (ginger). I spit it at the beach. I throw another stone. The mulukwausi do not see it. It falls down; we hear it. We go ashore; we sit on the sand in a row. We sit in one row, one man near another, as on the lamina (in the same order as they drifted on the lamina). I make a charm over the comb; all the usagelu comb their hair; they tease their hair a long time. They are very cold; we do not make the fire. First, I put order on the beach; I take the piece of leyya, I spit it over the beach. One time, when the leyya is finished, I take some kasita leaves (the beach is always full of these). I put them on the shore, I put a stone on them, uttering a spell—afterwards, we make fire. All sit round and warm themselves at the fire.”
“At day time, we don’t go to the village; the mulukwausi would follow us. After dark, we go. Like on the lamina, we march in the same order, one after the other. I go last; I chant a spell over a libu plant. I efface our traces. I put the libu on our track; I put the weeds together. I make the path confused. I say a charm to the spider, that he might make a cobweb. I say a charm to the bush-hen, that she might turn up the soil.”
“We go to the village. We enter the village, we pass the main place. No one sees us; we are in mist, we are invisible. We enter the house of my veyola (maternal kinsman), he medicates some leyya; he spits (magically) on all of us. The mulukwausi smell us; they smell the salt water on our skins. They come to the house, the house trembles. A big wind shakes the house, we hear big thuds against the house. The owner of the house medicates the leyya and spits over us; they cannot see us. A big fire is made in the house; plenty of smoke fills the house. The leyya and the smoke blind their eyes. Five days we sit in smoke, our skin smells of smoke; our hair smells of smoke; the mulukwausi cannot smell us. Then I medicate some water and coco-nut, the usagelu wash and annoint themselves. They leave the house, they sit on the kaukweda (spot before the house). The owner of the house chases them away. ‘Go, go to your wife;’ we all go, we return to our houses.”
I have given here a reconstruction of a native account, as I have often heard it told with characteristic vividness: spoken in short, jerky sentences, with onamatopoetic representations of sound, the narrative exaggerates certain features, and omits others. The excellency of the narrator’s own magic, the violence of the elements at critical moments, he would always reiterate with monotonous insistence. He would diverge into some correlated subject, jump ahead, missing out several stages, come back, and so on, so that the whole is quite incoherent and unintelligible to a white listener, though the native audience follows its trend perfectly well. For it must be remembered that, when a native tells such a story, the events are already known to his listeners, who have grown up gradually becoming familiar with the narrow range of their tribal folklore. Our toliwaga, telling this story over again on the sandbank of Yakum, would dwell on such points as allowed him to boast of his kayga’u, to describe the violence of the storm, to bear witness to the traditional effects of the magic.
It is necessary for an Ethnographer to listen several times to such a narrative, in order to have a fair chance of forming some coherent idea of its trend. Afterwards, by means of direct examination, he can succeed in placing the facts in their proper sequence. By questioning the informants about details of rite and magic, it is possible then to obtain interpretations and commentaries. Thus the whole of a narrative can be constructed, the various fragments, with all their spontaneous freshness, can be put in their proper places, and this is what I have done in giving this account of shipwreck.[3]