As an example of this belief the following story, told to the writer by a Rephyim man, may be related. The man said: “The Road of the Dead in our village runs past the champo in which I used to sleep. One night when I was lying awake I heard someone go stumbling past towards Wokha Hill, groaning as he went. Then I heard him say, ‘Oh, oh, I cannot walk,’ and recognized the voice of my brother-in-law, who was very ill. I was frightened and shouted and woke all in the champo. My brother-in-law died next day, for his soul (omon) had already gone ahead.” The mongyi leaves a man at the moment of death and goes straight to the World of the Dead, where it joins the omon which has already gone on ahead except in cases of very sudden death. Some men do not distinguish omon and mongyi (lit. “stupid soul”). The fact is that the Lhota does not analyse the details of such an unpleasant certainty as death. The Lhotas also believe in a sort of personal evil destiny called nyok, and when looking at the corpse of a man who has died a violent death will hold bunches of leaves before their faces to prevent his nyok affecting them. It appears to correspond to the Angami temi or rhopfü (cf. Hutton, The Angami Nagas, pp. 98 and 183). A curious belief, apparently at variance with all their beliefs as to dead men walking to the Land of the Dead, is held by Lhotas in common with Semas and Aos. It is that if a man kills a flying squirrel during his life, at his death his soul will fly to the Land of the Dead under the shelter of the wings of the soul of the squirrel. Col. Shakespear records that the Lushais hold a similar belief with regard [[119]]to a bird called vahluk.[7] There are also traces of a belief in the reincarnation of the soul in some lower form of life. No member of a household in which a death has occurred may take the life of any creature, whether animal, bird, or insect, till the days of “genna” are accomplished and the soul has finally left for the Land of the Dead, in case the creature killed should be the dead man in another form. The Aos have a similar belief.[8] The Land of the Dead (etchhili) lies under our world and has the bottom of our world for a sky, just as our world lies under the world of the Potsos. There the dead live exactly as men live here, those who have done good deeds here being rich and happy, and those who have done evil deeds being poor and miserable.[9] As the sun passes under the earth every evening their day is our night. The entrance to it is a cave (etchhiku) on the precipitous eastern face of Wokha Hill. It is inaccessible and no living man has ever been into the cave, though the story goes that once a man desperate with grief at the death of his nine children from smallpox managed to scramble down to it. There on the floor he found spittle and on the side of the cave he found the smallpox scabs which had been rubbed off against the rock as his children passed in. He could not enter, for he was still alive, but he went away comforted, for he knew that his wife and children had really gone to the Land of the Dead, where he would meet them some day. The cave, which a telescope seems to show does really exist, lies at one end of a narrow, conspicuous stratum of white rock which looks exactly like a path and is known as the Road of the Dead (etchhililan).[10] Below it is another [[120]]similar stratum, also apparently terminating in a cave, which is believed to be the road used by the spirits of dead animals, for animals, too, go to the Land of the Dead. In Yemkha, from whence the roads are clearly seen, it is believed that sometimes at night lights can be observed moving on the upper road when the dead come out with torches to meet new-comers and light them on their way. Some say that the spirits of those who die “apotia,” or at the hands of enemies or by witchcraft, are earthbound and cannot go to the world of the dead. Others say that they go, but by some different road. The dead have knowledge of what goes on in this world and jealously watch the disposal of their property! They can even at times punish the living with sickness. They appear in dreams, sending their omon to the dreamer, for the dead man himself cannot leave the place where he is. As a sign that he has really been, the omon sometimes leaves a present of dead men’s rice (etchhitsok). Zambomo of Pangti still uses rice descended from such a present. It is occasionally necessary to appease the dead. A pig is killed and a share given to a dreamer (hahang), who offers it to the dead man in his dreams. This ceremony is called etchhienya, and is done by anyone who is heir to the whole of a dead man’s property, and when there have been many deaths in a family, or if children die one after the other. Though the dead themselves cannot leave their habitation, the deer they hunt, if hard pressed by dogs, sometimes come right through the earth and appear on the surface of the ground in the form of moles. That is why to find a mole above ground forebodes ill luck, and perhaps even death. Hence the consternation when the writer’s fox-terrier one day laid a dead mole at a Lhota’s feet.[11] Similarly, the male of the Little Pied Flycatcher (Cyornis melanoleucus) is regarded as the hornbill of the dead.
Life in the Land of the Dead is certainly not regarded as everlasting, but the Lhota is very vague as to what the next stage is—the truth being that he does not worry [[121]]himself about the matter. One theory is that men die again and become flies. Another theory is that every man passes through nine successive lives[12] and then ceases to exist.
Religion and Magic. The religion of the Lhota teaches no moral code. The blessings it offers him are material, not spiritual. Yet many, many Lhotas lead clean, straight, honest lives and are ever ready to help a lame dog over a stile. It is true that virtue in this world is vaguely believed to be rewarded with happiness in the next, but this belief weighs little with a Naga, who rarely turns his thoughts to what is in store for him after he dies. Whatever it be which causes so many Lhotas to lead virtuous lives it is not their religion. His religion presents itself to a Lhota as a series of ceremonies and observances laid down by custom, any one of which it would be dangerous to omit. Mingled with this idea is the belief in the to the Lhota self-evident maxim that like produces like. If children squirt water from their mouths rain will fall. To pretend that you are carrying a heavy load of rice up to the village will ensure good crops! And so on in every department of life.
Religious Officials.
The Puthi. The priest of the village who takes the leading part in all ceremonies concerned with the welfare of the whole community is called by the Northern Lhotas Puthi and by the Southern Puki. Formerly every village had two Puthis, the one first elected performing the ceremonial acts, while his partner acted as his assistant and repeated the prayers after him. Nowadays in many places there is only one Puthi, the chief reason being that few men are eager to accept the post, which is a risky one, for verbal mistakes in the ceremonies may call down divine displeasure on the officiant. Where there are two Puthis the junior automatically succeeds the senior one on the death of the latter. An [[122]]awkward interregnum is thus avoided, for in the absence of a Puthi public ceremonies cannot be performed.[13]
Five days after the death of a Puthi the old men of the village meet at the late priest’s house and discuss the question of his successor. Ordinarily the man in the village who has done most social “gennas” is chosen, provided he is otherwise qualified. That is to say, he must belong to one of the clans who have provided Puthis for that village in the past, and he must never have been wounded by an enemy or wild animal, or have hurt himself by falling from a tree or rock, or have burnt himself. In other words, a man who has only just escaped an “apotia” death is not eligible. Nor must he be deformed or mutilated in any way. Once installed he holds office for life. The sole charge on which he can be dismissed is that of deliberately uttering curses instead of blessings at ceremonies. But even in this case the village must make good the expenses he has incurred during his time of office. He is forbidden to go outside the boundaries of the village, lest he should fall into the hands of enemies and be killed, for in some mysterious way the life of the village is regarded as bound up with that of its Puthi. On his death his successor must perform the ceremony of “making the village” (oyantsoa).[14] The other occasions on which this ceremony is performed are at the first founding of a village, when a branch of the mingetung, or the mingetung itself, falls, and at intervals of nine or ten years, when the Puthi thinks it is time it was performed in order that the children, cattle and crops of the village may increase. It may take place any time during the cold weather before the rice is sown. The Puthi announces that the ceremony is to take place and goes round with his spear (phui) in his hand and his Yenga walking behind him, and collects a contribution of rice from every male in the village. When all have prepared “madhu” the ceremony begins with the killing [[123]]of a dog outside the Puthi’s house. The formalities are the same as at the building of a new “morung,” except that the man who decapitates the dog at once cuts off its ears and places them on the roof of the Puthi’s house, over the door. Next morning the unmarried men and boys of the village, having remained chaste for three days, go into the jungle and cut a log about six feet long and a foot and a half in diameter. This is trimmed flat on one side. One end is left square and the other end is sloped off from about two feet from the top. This they drag up to the village and set up just outside the village fence at the place (opyachama) which the tradition of the village ordains, with the flat side facing the village. No woman must see it dragged in, and for the three preceding days the village must keep strict emung, even sewing and weaving being forbidden. In front of the post, which is known as opya, all the males of the village in full dress assemble and feast. The women may look on from a distance, but may not mix with the men. Then the Puthi holds in his right hand a perfectly clean dao lent by an unmarried man who has observed strict chastity during the preceding three days, and in his left hand a cock. After the traditional prayer (dranda) for the prosperity of the village he cuts the cock’s throat with the dao and proceeds to take the omens from its entrails. A sharp stick is then run into the base of the bird’s skull at the back and it is set up at the foot of the opya. Then at a signal from the Puthi all, shouting as if in battle, throw mock bamboo spears at the opya. All then repair to the “morung” chanting shamashari, the chant of warriors who are bringing home heads, and hoiki enyam, a long-drawn high note followed by two short low notes. From the “morung” they go to the Puthi’s house, and after chanting there disperse. All men must refrain from sexual intercourse for this night. In some villages (e.g. Rephyim) a straw collar is fastened round the opya at the point where the flat side is sloped off towards the top. Only warriors and men of importance, who fasten a little tuft of red goat’s hair to the butt of their bamboo spears, may spear the opya above this collar.[15] The opya [[124]]may be compared with the figure put up by the Quoireng and Kabui Nagas, who make a similar distinction between hits on the head and on the body.[16] Whether the opya represents a human sacrifice or the killing of an old Puthi whose failing powers would involve disaster to the village is perhaps an open question. But it is significant that the opya is believed occasionally to groan after being speared. The next day the oha (lucky stones) under the mingetung are counted. The whole village having assembled at the tree, while the women look on from a respectful distance, the Puthi lifts up the oha one by one, and on the place where they were lays the two ears of the dog which were put on his roof. He then replaces the stones one by one, counting them as he does so, and announces the total to the village. If the stones have increased since the last counting it is a good omen. If they have decreased it is an evil omen. All then stand round the tree and flourish their spears and chant the shamashari. A light fence is next built round the tree, with a door which is, however, carefully kept shut. After much walking round the tree and chanting all go to their own houses. Some days later—in some villages after five days, in others after ten—the young men and the Puthi again repair to the mingetung to open the door in the fence. Before this can be done the Puthi squats in front of the gate in the fence holding a good dao with the unsharpened face[17] of the blade upwards in his right hand and an egg in his left. Addressing the Potsos, he says, “I have remained chaste. I have eaten no unclean thing. Now help me and be favourable.” He then rolls the egg very slowly down the blade of the dao. It is an evil omen if it falls either over the edge or over the back. He sets the egg on its end on the ground and puts thirty tiny pieces of dog’s flesh on each side of it. The gate is then opened and after the usual chanting the ceremony is at an end. A [[125]]village which has done the oyantsoa “genna” must not allow any uncooked rice to leave the village till after the next Tuku “genna.”
An Opya bristling with bamboo spears thrown at it at the Oyantsoa “genna”
