"On the morning following, the ceremony is concluded by an offering of many fat swine, when the sacrifice made to the dead affords an ample feast to the living: they besmear themselves with the blood of the slaughtered hogs; and some, more voracious than others, eat the flesh raw."[42]
A few hundred yards from the houses in the bay, and on the seaward side of the same point, is situated the larger village where the headman resides; the path connecting the two crosses the site of one of the old Moravian mission establishments, where the brick foundations of some of the buildings once standing there may yet be seen.[43]
This larger village[44] contains fifteen to twenty houses closely packed together, and fronted by a tall row of kanaia standing in the water. Bamboo posts, too, split at the upper end and spread out fanwise, are planted at intervals along the beach; they are put up yearly by every man in the village, to keep fever and devils (iwi) away; and several grotesque figures of crocodiles (yéo), placed in little shelters, raised on poles, prevent their living counterparts from attacking the villagers when they enter the water.
The houses are of two kinds, round and rectangular; the latter are used as kitchens and storerooms, but there is a fireplace in the others, where much of the cooking is done. The conical roofs are made of attaps of nipah palm, neatly fastened to a framework of thick rattan by lashings of cane, the sides and floor are generally of roughly-hewn boards; inside, about 3 feet from the wall, a circle of posts helps to support the roof, which, in some cases, is entirely lined with horizontal laths of wood. The apex is crowned outside by a high, carved finial. Access is obtained by means of a notched pole, and to permit the entrance of domestic animals, a tree trunk, split and hollowed out to form a trough, slopes gently up from the ground to door or window. Beneath the houses are platforms on which the natives keep their store of pandanus and coconuts, their spare pots and baskets, and peculiar bundles of wood. This latter is neatly cut into billets about 1 foot long, and packed into circular bundles, 2 or 3 feet in diameter, by means of a tight lashing of cane.[45]
One afternoon we paid a visit to Tanamara. He and his wife have no children, but have adopted a little girl from Chaura, whose parents are dead. This custom of adoption is, he says, not at all uncommon. Tanamara's father and mother live with him; the former, "England" by name, is an old, white-headed man, who is nearly eighty; he professes to know nothing about the piratical atrocities which formerly occurred in this group of islands, although many of them happened at a period sufficiently late in his life for him to have fully comprehended such events.
TANAMARA'S "KAREAU."
The interior and contents of the house were very similar to what we had already seen in Trinkat. Opposite the door stood the fireplace—a bed of clay on the floor—above which was a mantle-shelf or rack, where are kept pots, baskets, trays, etc. A grated floor formed a small chamber immediately under the roof, where baskets and odds-and-ends are stowed away. Several boxes, packed with the family possessions of cotton and spoons, stood against the walls, on which hung various charms—small figures (kareau), carved scrolls, tassels of palm leaf, and pigs' skulls—all for scaring away devils. Hanging in the centre was a grass string, with a few small coconuts attached: these are for the purpose of feeding the house, and are periodically renewed: the object so nourished does not seem possessed of much acumen, however, for small green nuts, which have been blown down or have fallen from disease, seem quite good enough to sustain it. The house also contained some almost life-sized human figures (odiau), carved from wood, painted and clothed. These were not at all badly shaped, and show an appreciation of anatomical detail unusual among uncivilised people. The shape of the Nicobarese head, and the peculiar angle at which the teeth are set, were well noticed: the swelling muscles, the toes and fingers, even the sharpness of the shin-bone in front of the leg, and the form of the knee-cap, were faithfully copied. They were all supplied with a piece of rancid pork hung from the neck or placed in the mouth.[46]
Several pictures (hentá) drawn on slabs of wood were placed against the walls. These originate from an attack of fever. They are drawn by the village artist by order of the doctor (menlúana), who tells him what he should make. The latter is paid in kind for his work. Of frequent occurrence are pigs, crocodiles and coconut trees, whilst almost always there appears a scene of men seated at a table and drinking rum from large glasses. If the patient make a good recovery, the picture is kept as a potent charm, since it has been successful in scaring away the spirits of illness; otherwise, it is thrown away. A bird (kaláng)[47] commonly made during fever will also produce recovery.
We could not persuade the people to part with any of these, neither would they sell one of the large figures. Tanamara has a life-sized statue, painted black, with a white face, and although he was offered in exchange a dress-suit and a white sun-helmet, which he much coveted, he would not part with his double: its price was far above rupees. I was, however, permitted to photograph both pictures and figure; although, while the latter was being moved from the house to the beach, he was in an agony of apprehension, for he believes that if any accident should happen to it, illness on his part would follow, while, had we broken it or taken it away, he himself would certainly die. The object of these figures is to keep devils from working harm to their owners. Some people have none, while others sometimes possess two or more.