The women are not present when the bones are collected, but, remaining in camp, they start to wail afresh, and even resort to further mutilating the body. When the men return, carrying with them the radius of the dead man, a ceremony is conducted, in which both sexes participate. The women, including the widow, now discard the white cover of pipe-clay and ashes; and in its place they decorate their bodies with red and yellow ochre, and occasionally with charcoal. These colours are applied in vertical bands or lines over the chest and back; whilst across the shoulders there are usually a few horizontal lines. The men have more elaborate designs worked over their chests and backs with ochre and kaolin. After the ceremony is over, the radius is either buried or claimed by the deceased’s brother, who uses it as a pointing-bone, it playing a particularly important role during any expedition, which may be undertaken against the tribe suspected of foul play in connection with his relative’s death.
CHAPTER XXIV
TRIBAL ORGANIZATIONS
Psychological trend of thought—Primitive and modern systems of nomenclature compared—Multiplicity of Names—Their derivation—Connection with marriage systems—Family crests—“Kobongism” and “Totemism”—Group relationships—Infant betrothals—Business-like courtship—Position of wife—Elopements—Tribal profligates—True wifehood—Hospitable licentiousness—Mutual exchanges of wives.
It is difficult for an European living in the twentieth century to train his mind into the way of thinking like an aboriginal. To require of a person to do so would be like asking his reasoning to slip back through the long ages of progress and mental development, which are primarily responsible for his now being able to hold a foremost position amongst his fellow creatures. The convenience of modern achievements so transcends the awkwardness of primal ways that we might as well suggest to him that the better way of meeting an absent friend would be to walk to a spot he was last seen at, than to catch an electric train bound for the city and despatch a message from the nearest telegraph office to ensure the meeting. The first method would be the primitive, the second the up-to-date. On the other hand, our present systems are satisfied to ascertain a man’s individual identity—his Christian and surnames—but to bother little about anything else. Some of our best families certainly pride themselves upon their ancestral history, and honour the crest which once ranked prominently in the social world, but the general tendency, especially of a democratic world, is to meet this sentiment with a satirical sneer. In consequence, our national history is sacrificing much of its constituent, individual charm, and our nomenclature, so far as any original class-systems are concerned, is daily becoming more meagre and commonplace. Nowadays a Smith is simply a Smith, good or bad, with or without genealogical traditions and records. And this is the point we are leading up to, which is so very different with the aboriginal. His vocabulary bristles with a nomenclature so full of ancestral derivations and traditional origins that a single word combines at once identity with genealogy; the English language does not contain a single word which could convey the same amount of meaning; a number are required to explain the sense. There is no such person as a simple Smith among the aborigines; Smiths there might be, but each is separately described and qualified by his appellation; each person carries his crest, if not his pedigree, embodied in his name. Everybody can understand the significance of the name the moment he hears it; and this understanding is very far-reaching, and as potent as the bonds of freemasonry.
Every individual has a number of names, some of which are never publicly used, but are only known to members of the tribe who stand in very close relationship to him. The names are really more expressions of degree, rank, maturity, and division, rather than personal appellations or addresses. All elders who have officiated during the term of initiation of a novice, or who have instructed or tended a child prior to its attaining its independence, automatically assume a name or title, which, within a restricted circle, explains the social standing of the particular individual.
Then there are factious names, of a religious or sacred character, each of which directly relates to the accepted affinity existing between a living person and an ancestral spirit of semi-human origin. These names are kept very secret, but are embodied in the carved “tjuringas,” which are only exposed to a limited number of persons upon rare occasions, and then very temporarily.
The names which are most commonly applied to individuals are, in reality, pet or nicknames. A special characteristic, a likeness, a scar, or an abnormity is immediately seized upon as a mark of distinction to embody in the individual’s name. Countless examples could be mentioned to illustrate this point. For instance, a man of the Minning tribe at Eucla is called “Jinnabukarre” (Lumpy-foot), an old Arunndta man is known as “Ulgna-bong” (Blind-eye), and a Wongapitcha man as “Jinna-Kularrikna” (Stink-foot). The name I generally travel under amongst the Arunndta is “Atutannya” (Big Man), having been thus christened by them on account of my bodily height. Again, circumstances at birth or any presumed causes of conception often determine the name of the offspring. “Unndulia,” meaning a “shadow,” is both the name of a place with a legend, situated in the MacDonnell Ranges, and of a girl, who is supposed to have entered her mother’s womb there. Many people have names of animals and birds, with which they have some sort of mystic relationship and legendary connections; in the Arunndta such names as “Illiya” (Emu), “Utnguringita” (Witchedy Grub), “Irridja” (Eaglehawk), “Ladjia” (Yam), and the like are daily met with.
Names are frequently compounded, the resulting word embodying locality, peculiarity, ancestry, animal-relationship, and division all in one. As a person grows older his name usually becomes longer, and in a limited sense recounts his biography. There is apparently no limitation to the length of a name, but the whole word is rarely spoken; yet each possessor of a long name commits it well to memory. The longest personal appellation, which has come before our notice, is that of a very aged woman of the Dieri tribe; expressed phonetically it ran: “Yangingurrekupulapaiawattimakantana.”
The intricate and elaborate systems of nomenclature are closely connected with their marriage laws and secret rites. With a few exceptions, these are much the same all over Australia. So far as their marriage systems are concerned, each tribe may be primarily split into two great divisions, between which unions take place; but among members of one and the same division such are forbidden under penalty of death.