Ritual and belief

by Edwin Sidney Hartland

The churinga are, moreover, endowed with power, with mana, which not merely heals wounds, but when they are brought ceremonially in contact with the body produces other physical, mental, and even moral effects. In the Kaitish tribe the performance of some ceremonies, in the course of which the churinga are handled, renders a man so full of this mana, or, as they call it, churinga, using the very word, that he becomes for the time taboo.^[103.2] In addition, the churinga have virtue to make the yams and the grass-seed grow; they frighten the game, or enable a man to secure it, and so forth. They are handled in a manner which it is no exaggeration to call devout. They are polished with red ochre to “soften” them, a term that, as Messrs Spencer and Gillen remark, “very evidently points to the fact that the [churinga] is regarded as something much more than a piece of wood or stone. It is intimately associated with the ancestor, and has ‘feelings,’ just as human beings have, which can be soothed by rubbing in the same way in which those of living men can be.” We gather that a man will sing to his churinga, that the subject of his song will be the mythical story of the ancestor (or the previous incarnation) to whom it belonged, and that as he sings and rubs it with his hand, “he gradually comes to feel that there is some special association between him and the sacred object—that a virtue of some kind passes from it to him, and also from him to it.” So from generation to generation it gathers more and more of what our authors describe as magical power—what would certainly be called in Melanesia mana—the mystic potentiality already discussed.^[104.1]

Thus the churinga have to the Blackfellow a more or less definitely personal aspect. It may be said that the songs chanted over them are after all merely magical spells. But the spell implies some more or less defined personality in the objects to which it is addressed. In these tribes rites are performed, called in the Arunta tongue Intichiuma, for the purpose of causing a manifestation of the power of the totem, of multiplying the totem-animal or plant, and generally of increasing the prosperity of the totem. In the course of these rites there is much singing. The members of the group invite the witchetty grubs to come from all directions and lay their eggs, or the hakea-trees to flower and their blossoms to fill with honey; they beg the rain to come and bring fish; they direct the kangaroos to go from one place to another; and so on. Even when the songs and the actions performed in the ceremonies recall the events of the mythical past, they are not necessarily more magical than the words of sacred dramas, which everywhere in the lower culture inseparably interweave what we generally speak of as magic and religion. The mighty ancestors (as elsewhere the gods) whose deeds they chant are present in the rite. “The totem, the ancestor, and the descendant (that is to say, the performer) appear in these songs as one. Without keeping in view the indivisible unity of the totem, the mythic ancestor and the offspring (ratapa), many of the songs are quite incomprehensible.”^[105.1] Thus where invitation or command is not issued directly to the object, the mana of the ancestors seems to be evoked for the accomplishment of the end.

Again, so far from the Arunta medicine-men being practitioners of anything analogous to modern science, they are initiated by, and their power is derived from, the spirits. These spirits are believed to put the candidate to death, to carry him down into their abode, and there to take out his internal organs, replacing them with a new set, planting in his body a supply of magical crystals by which all his subsequent wonders will be performed, and then bringing him to life again. He remains, however, in a condition of insanity for some days. It is true that an imitation of this process can be performed by medicine-men of flesh and blood; but candidates thus initiated have a lower repute (save apparently among the Warramunga) than those initiated directly by the spirits. The crystals are in any case the home and symbol of the magician’s powers. They are in fact full of mana. If they be lost, the magician ceases to be a magician, and the crystals themselves return to the spirits. All over Australia, so far as we know, the same influence is attributed to them.^[105.2] On the eastern side of the continent, where something like a tribal All-Father is believed in, he is regarded, like Odin, as the mightiest of magicians, and the crystals are, as well as the bull-roarer, among his special attributes. Let me observe too in passing that it is not a little significant that, as in the witchcraft of Europe and Africa, portions of dead bodies are in great request in Australia for magical purposes. The “pointing bone,” to which I referred just now, is part of a dead man’s leg or arm. A portion of his personality inheres in it. Consequently, even before it is “sung,” it is endowed with his mana, which the singing only enhances and directs in its course.^[106.1] For the same reason human fat and a dead man’s hair are important parts of the Australian native’s magical apparatus.

The initiation of the medicine-man or magician by spirits, often the spirits of the dead, is practically the universal belief in Australia. In this respect the Australian medicine-man is in line with many of his professional brethren elsewhere. In the island of Saghalien the Gilyak shamans are chosen vessels, to whom their tutelary gods reveal their high calling in vision or in trance. From the moment that this is done the gods install themselves as the new shaman’s assistants and perform his commands. Yet shamanhood is not regarded as a gift, but as a burden. To become a shaman, either a man must find favour with one of these assistant tutelary gods, or such a god must be bestowed upon him by his father or uncle. Conversion into a shaman forms a break in the life of the chosen, accompanied by many complicated psychical phenomena. The process in his own case was described by a shaman to a Russian anthropologist. For more than two months he was sick and lay without movement or consciousness. As soon as he revived from one attack he fell under another. “I should have died,” he said, “if I had not become a shaman.” He began to dream at night that he sang shaman songs. Visions appeared to him, and he was told to make a drum and the proper apparatus of a shaman, and to sing. If he were a simple man, the vision told him, nothing would happen; “but if thou art a shaman, be a real shaman.” When he awoke he found that it was thought the spirits had killed him, and preparations for his funeral rites had been made. But he got a drum and began to sing. This produced a feeling which hovered between intoxication and death. Then for the first time he saw his tutelary gods, and received from them instruction in his business as a shaman.^[107.1] Among the Koryak on the adjacent continent, “nobody can become a shaman of his own free will. The spirits enter into any person they may choose and force him to become their servant.” Such persons are “usually nervous young men, subject to hysterical fits, by means of which the spirits express their demand” that the patient shall become a shaman. Fasting, paroxysms, exhaustion succeed one another. Finally, the spirits appear to the patient in visible form, endow him with power, inspire and instruct him.^[107.2] In other words, they fill him with their mana.

Here we have manifestly the wide-spread phenomena of Possession. In these tribes there are no professional priests. The magicians, though in a sense the intermediaries between men and the higher powers, are not charged with the duty of offering sacrifice and prayer. In South Africa, among the Bantu tribes, also, there are no professional priests. Ancestor-worship is the religion; and the only worship paid is paid to the manes of the dead. The proper person to offer sacrifices is the head of the family for the time being. But medicine-men or magicians form a regular profession, which is divided into a number of branches. For some of these branches initiation by the spirits of the dead is not necessary. For others it is indispensable. Frequently, however, the same man combines the practice of several branches of the art. All who practise openly are recognized as White Wizards, exercising their powers for the wellbeing of society, in defence of the established order. Yet these very men sometimes boast of being baloyi, a term by which evil wizards are generally known. They claim to be more powerful than ordinary wizards, able to discover and baffle their tricks, and to kill. Moreover, there are good baloyi, who use their power to bless. They are sometimes sent by ancestral spirits to increase the produce of the fields, and then they are said to have bewitched the fields to make them bring forth more fruit. Thus it is clear that a hard and fast line cannot be drawn between the social and the antisocial magicians, at least among some of the Bantu tribes. One of the chief branches of the profession is that of exorcist. Now no man can set up as an exorcist without having been himself possessed by the spirits and exorcised. This is indeed the regular method of initiation, for a man is not merely restored to ordinary life by exorcism; he is also aggregated to the society of magicians; he enters a new life; he becomes a neophyte among the practitioners, and must undergo further probation which may result in his becoming more than an exorcist—he may become clairvoyant or a diviner, a prophet or a worker of marvels; he may cure diseases or cause the rain to fall. Many practitioners profess more than one of these accomplishments; the most distinguished profess several.^[109.1]

How far the phenomena of possession are voluntary need not here be discussed. The Zulu or Xosa patient (if we may call him so) becomes sickly and abstinent; he distinguishes himself by dreams and visions, and begins to talk of his intercourse with spirits of the dead; he becomes “a house of dreams”; he is hysterical; he sings; he behaves as though he were out of his mind; he is possessed by an Itongo, an ancestral spirit. Then he is admitted to the society of the magicians and receives instruction from them. Finally, he is accounted a new creature, whose intercourse with spirits and share in their supernatural powers is recognized by everyone.^[109.2]

Among the Ngombe in the Northern Congo basin, we are told, “the ghosts call [to the man] from the bowels of the earth. He goes into the grave, underground, and stays there four months. When the four months are finished he comes forth, rubs himself with camwood and dances, contorting his body.” This seems to be the neophyte’s only preparation for the office of nganga. After that, according to the same authority, “whenever a man is sick he is carried by others to the nganga. They accompany him to the man of ghosts. He looks at the body, then recites to the spirit. They lift up the man and go out. All the people dance, and he who is afflicted with sickness is brought to the doctor for medicine.”^[109.3]

On the North American continent the medicine-man was not “possessed,” as among the Siberian tribes and the Bantu; but his mode of initiation was similar. The Ojibway sorcerer after prolonged fasting was initiated by the supernatural powers.^[110.1] Among many of the Californian tribes “a spirit, be it that of an animal, a place, the sun or other natural object, a deceased relative or an entirely unembodied spirit, visits the future medicine-man in his dreams, and the connection thus established between them is the source and basis of the latter’s power. This spirit becomes his guardian spirit or ‘personal.’ From it he receives the song or rite or knowledge of the charm, and the understanding which enable him to cause or remove disease, and to do and endure what other men cannot.”^[110.2] The Skidi Pawnee is allured to the abode of the mysterious animal-powers, and there taught their knowledge and gifted with their powers; or he is visited by a supernatural being in dreams for the same purpose.^[110.3]

Among the Sea Dyaks of Borneo “there are two descriptions of manangs [shamans], the regular and the irregular. The regular are those who have been called to that vocation by dreams, and to whom the spirits have revealed themselves. The irregular are self-created and without a familiar spirit.” It is not enough for the manang simply to say “that he feels himself called; he must prove to his friends that he is able to commune with the spirits; and in proof of this he will occasionally abstain from food and indulge in trances, from which he will awake with all the tokens of one possessed by a devil, foaming at the mouth and talking incoherently.”^[110.4] One of the ways to “get magic” among the Malays is to meet the ghost of a murdered man. In order to do this a ceremony must be performed at the grave on a Tuesday at full moon. The aspirant calls upon the deceased for help, and states his request. Ultimately an aged man appears, to whom the request is repeated; and it would seem that the suppliant gets what he wants.^[111.1]

In Europe the dominant religion has proscribed witchcraft with terrors spiritual and physical, which have emphasized its separation and intensified its spiritual aspect. The judicial records are full of stories of initiation to the Black Art that begin by the formal renunciation of Christian worship and baptism. The novice tramples upon symbols of the Christian faith, or otherwise treats them with indignity. He utters incantations with appropriate rites to call up the devil. That gentleman then appears to receive his formal profession of allegiance, admit him ceremonially into his band of worshippers, and tutor him in the methods of his art. That the confessions of this procedure were not wholly imaginary, and dictated by the orthodox functionaries who examined the tortured victim, is rendered probable from the fact that down to the present day, in many continental countries, if not in the British Islands, the peasant witch enters upon her trade by a rite recalling its main features.