PLATE XXVII
Tooth-rapping ceremony, Wongapitcha tribe.
“The novice lies on his back and rests his head against the operator’s thighs, while a number of men sit around in a semi-circle.” The operator is seen in the act of applying the rod with his right hand, while he is striking it with a pebble held in the opposite hand.
In the Northern Kimberleys of Western Australia, the relatives wait until the body has so far decomposed that it begins to drip, at which stage they place a number of pebbles or other articles either in a row or in a circle underneath the platform. Each pebble represents a person who is considered as a likely cause of the death they are bemoaning. Periodical inspections are made of the place, and notice is taken of the drops which have fallen from the corpse. Should it so happen that the wind has blown them in the direction of any one particular stone, which has thereby been moistened, the person represented by that pebble is looked upon as the one responsible for the fellow’s death; a resolution is forthwith carried to “bone” him to death. At the same time the visitors keep a vigilant lookout for any tracks near the grave, which might inform them of the presence of a spirit nearby. Like the Northern Territory tribes they, too, later collect the bones of the deceased and wrap them up in paperbark. These parcels, together with the skull, are deposited in the crevices of rocks outcropping within their haunts, or they are stuck away in a cave, if such be available.
Great is the hullabaloo in a camp when a person of importance breathes his last. Moans and deep sobbing notes are followed by loud yells and spasms of barbarous shrieks, which it is difficult to believe are human; and the yelping hordes of dogs, which are found in every camp, in no small way intensify the din. After a while the pandemonium settles down to a more orderly wailing, although every now and then there might be a spontaneous outburst of the heart-rending yelling again, which can only be likened to a long-drawn canine or, more nearly, a dingo-like howl. The note is taken up by all members of the little community; and the moment the noise is heard by anybody strolling or hunting in the environment he, without deliberation, hastens back to camp to join in the wailing. The men sit with their knees drawn up and their arms thrown around them, covering their faces whilst they are sobbing. The women throw themselves upon the ground, or over the body of the departed, in utter despair; they are later joined by the men. Every now and then the lubras rise, and, seizing a sharp stick with both their hands, they cut deep gashes into the crown of their heads. Then, as the blood pours down over their faces and bodies, the wailing is accentuated with additional vehemence. At times some terrible wounds are inflicted during this part of the obsequies. The widow often cuts a long, median gash right along the scalp. The men, on the other hand, flourish their big stone knives, with which they hack their bodies in a revolting manner. In the Katherine River district, the nearest relatives on the male side not infrequently cut their thighs in such a way that almost the entire mass of muscles on the extensor side is severed, and the man makes himself hors de combat. A general mêlée now ensues, during which women deface themselves and each other without restraint, the places of predilection being the head and back. Each mourner submits to the mutilation voluntarily and without flinching. The women, too, make free use of their nulla-nullas, with which they crack each other over the head. But a short while after they will seat themselves in groups about the body, with their arms tenderly thrown around each other, crying bitterly.
Repeatedly I have been present when sad or distressing news has unexpectedly come to hand, or when one of the tribe meets with a painful accident which may be considered fatal, and have noticed with what amount of undisguised sympathy such are received on the part of the women-folk. On one occasion I remember a young gin falling from a high cliff on the Finke River and sustaining a concussion of the brain. As she lay unconscious on the ground, all other women present at the time tore out great quantities of hair from their scalps, and then threw themselves into some spiny tussocks of porcupine grass which grew close-by. The poisonous sting of the porcupine grass is very painful, even when only one enters the skin; but the agony produced by a large number piercing the naked body must be excruciating.
The Larrekiya men lacerate their upper arms and thighs with stone knives, and cut their foreheads with the embedded flints of any handy implements. Both men and women cover their naked bodies with ashes and pipeclay, and, after the preliminary uproar has calmed down somewhat, the females start a doleful chant which sounds something like: “Nge-e-u, hö-hö-un-un.” To this the men respond with long-drawn monotones resembling: “He-e-ö, he-e-ö, he-e-ö,” the “n” and “un” above, and the “ö” below, sounding like sobs.
The chanting is kept up all the time the corpse is “lying in state,” if one be permitted to make use of this phrase in connection with a primitive burial ceremony. Even whilst the body is being conveyed upon the shoulders of the aboriginal pall-bearers, the wailing continues in a systematic manner.
I remember once attending a native funeral at Brocks’ Creek in the Northern Territory, when a gin had died who came from a far-distant tribe beyond the Victoria River. Being a stranger, the local tribal honours could not be bestowed upon her remains, but the local natives, who volunteered to bury her, could not let the opportunity pass without singing in a mournful strain as they carried her to rest. The gin’s dialect was unknown, and the local tribe had been in the habit of conversing with her in ordinary “pidgin English.” Consequently they concocted a little refrain of their own to suit the occasion. It ran “Poor beggar Jinny, him bin die,” and was rendered in a sing-song style, like a decimal repeater, throughout the ceremony.
Everywhere in Australia it is the custom among the indigenous people never to mention the name of the person whose death is being lamented. This rule is so far-reaching that should there be more than one tribesman holding the same name, the one surviving his namesake immediately changes his appellation. If, too, the name of the dead one happened to be that of an animal or place, a new word is immediately introduced in the vocabulary of the tribe in place of the former. Thus allusion to the dead man’s name is entirely avoided. The reason for this strange custom is that the tribespeople want the spirit of the departed not to be molested; by calling aloud the name of one who has gone beyond, the spirit might be persuaded to come back and haunt the camp; the natives are in constant dread of this. On the other hand, by not addressing the spirit, there is no reason for it to leave the happy ancestral grounds, in which it can consort with all its kin long-departed.