Names of animals, especially the snake and the tiger, tabooed in India.
In India the animals whose names are most commonly tabooed are the snake and the tiger, but the same tribute of respect is paid to other beasts also. Sayids and Mussulmans [pg 402] of high rank in northern India say that you should never call a snake by its proper name, but always describe it either as a tiger (sher) or a string (rassi).[1498] In Telingana the euphemistic name for a snake, which should always be employed, is worm or insect (purugu); if you call a cobra by its proper name, the creature will haunt you for seven years and bite you at the first opportunity.[1499] Ignorant Bengalee women will not mention a snake or a thief by their proper names at night, for fear that one or other might appear. When they have to allude to a serpent, they call it “the creeping thing”; when they speak of a thief, they say “the unwelcome visitor.”[1500] Other euphemisms for the snake in northern India are “maternal uncle” and “rope.” They say that if a snake bites you, you should not mention its name, but merely observe “A rope has touched me.”[1501] Natives of Travancore are careful not to speak disrespectfully of serpents. A cobra is called “the good lord” (nalla tambiran) or “the good snake” (nalla pambu). While the Malayalies of the Shervaray Hills are hunting the tiger, they speak of the beast only as “the dog.”[1502] The Canarese of southern India call the tiger either “the dog” or “the jackal”; they think that if they called him by his proper name, he would be sure to carry off one of them.[1503] The jungle people of northern India, who meet the tiger in his native haunts, will not pronounce his name, but speak of him as “the jackal” (gídar), or “the beast” (janwar), or use some other euphemistic term. In some places they treat the wolf and the bear in the same fashion.[1504] The Pankas of South Mirzapur will not name the tiger, bear, camel, or donkey by their proper names; the camel they call “long neck.” Other tribes of the same district only scruple to mention certain animals in the morning. Thus, the Kharwars, a Dravidian tribe, will not name a pig, squirrel, hare, jackal, bear, monkey, or donkey in the morning hours; if [pg 403] they have to allude to these animals at that time, they call them by special names. For instance, they call the hare “the four-footed one” or “he that hides in the rocks”; while they speak of the bear as jigariya, which being interpreted means “he with the liver of compassion.” If the Bhuiyars are absolutely obliged to refer to a monkey or a bear in the morning, they speak of the monkey as “the tree-climber” and the bear as “the eater of white ants.” They would not mention a crocodile. Among the Pataris the matutinal title of the bear is “the hairy creature.”[1505] The Kols, a Dravidian race of northern India, will not speak of death or beasts of prey by their proper names in the morning. Their name for the tiger at that time of day is “he with the claws,” and for the elephant “he with the teeth.”[1506] The forests of the Sundarbans, the district at the mouth of the Ganges, are full of man-eating tigers and the annual loss of life among the woodcutters is heavy. Here accordingly the ferocious animal is not called a tiger but a jackal (çial).[1507]
Names of animals and things tabooed in Indo-China.
In Annam the fear inspired by tigers, elephants, and other wild animals induces the people to address these creatures with the greatest respect as “lord” or “grandfather,” lest the beasts should take umbrage and attack them.[1508] The tiger reigns supreme in the forests of Tonquin and Cochin-China, and the peasants honour him as a maleficent deity. In talking of him they always call him ong, which means monsieur or grandfather. They are convinced that if they dared to speak of him disrespectfully, he would avenge the insult.[1509] In Siam there are many people who would never venture to utter the words tiger or crocodile in a spot where these terrible creatures might be in hiding, lest [pg 404] the sound of their names should attract the attention of the beasts towards the speakers.[1510] When the Malays of Patani Bay in Siam are in the jungle and think there is a tiger near, they will either speak of him in complimentary terms as the “grandfather of the woods” or only mention him in a whisper.[1511] In Laos, while a man is out hunting elephants he is obliged to give conventional names to all common objects, which creates a sort of special language for elephant-hunters.[1512] So when the Chams and Orang-Glaï of Indo-China are searching for the precious eagle-wood in the forest, they must employ an artificial jargon to designate most objects of everyday life; thus, for example, fire is called “the red,” a she-goat becomes “a spider,” and so on. Some of the terms which compose the jargon are borrowed from the dialects of neighbouring tribes.[1513] When the Mentras or aborigines of Malacca are searching for what they call gaharu (lignum aloes) they are obliged to use a special language, avoiding the words in ordinary use. At such times they call gaharu by the name of tabak, and they speak of a snake as “the long animal” and of the elephant as “the great animal.” They have also to observe a number of other taboos, particularly in the matter of diet. If a man has found a promising gaharu tree, and on going home dreams that the guardian spirit of the tree (hantu gaharu) demands a human victim as the price of his property, the dreamer will try next day to catch somebody asleep and to smear his forehead with lime. This is a sign to the guardian spirit of the tree, who accordingly carries away the soul of the sleeper to the land of the dead by means of a fever or other ailment, whereas the original dreamer gets a good supply of aloes wood.[1514]
Special language used by East Indian searchers for camphor.
At certain seasons of the year parties of Jakuns and Binuas go out to seek for camphor in the luxuriant forests of their native country, which is the narrow southern extremity of the Malay Peninsula, the Land's End of Asia. They are absent for three or four months together, and during the whole of this time the use of the ordinary Malay language is forbidden to them, and they have to speak a special language called by them the bassa kapor (camphor language) or pantang[1515] kapur. Indeed not only have the searchers to employ this peculiar language, but even the men and women who stay at home in the villages are obliged to speak it while the others are away looking for the camphor. They believe that a spirit presides over the camphor trees, and that without propitiating him they could not obtain the precious gum; the shrill cry of a species of cicada, heard at night, is supposed to be the voice of the spirit. If they failed to employ the camphor language, they think that they would have great difficulty in finding the camphor trees, and that even when they did find them the camphor would not yield itself up to the collector. The camphor language consists in great part of words which are either Malayan or of Malay origin; but it also contains many words which are not Malayan but are presumed to be remains of the original Jakun dialects now almost extinct in these districts. The words derived from Malayan are formed in many cases by merely substituting a descriptive phrase for the common term. Thus instead of rice they say “grass fruit”; instead of gun they say “far sounding”; the epithet “short-legged” is substituted for hog; hair is referred to as “leaves,” and so on.[1516] So when the Battas or Bataks of Sumatra have gone out to search for camphor, they must abandon the speech of daily life as soon as they reach the camphor [pg 406] forest. For example, if they wish to speak of the forest they may not use the ordinary word for it (hoetan), but must call it kerrengettetdoeng. When they have fixed on a spot in which to try their luck, they set up a booth and clear a space in front of it to serve as a place of sacrifice. Here, after summoning the camphor spirit (berroe ni kapoer) by playing on a flute, they offer sacrifice to him repeatedly. Then they lie down to dream of the place where camphor is to be found. If this succeeds, the leader goes and chooses the tree. When it has been cut down to the accompaniment of certain spells or incantations, one of the men runs and wraps the top of the fallen tree in a garment to prevent the camphor from escaping from the trunk before they have secured it. Then the tree is cleft and split up in the search for the camphor crystals, which are to be found in the fibres of the wood.[1517] Similarly, when the Kayans of Borneo are searching for camphor, they talk a language invented solely for their use at this time. The camphor itself is never mentioned by its proper name, but is always referred to as “the thing that smells”; and all the tools employed in collecting the drug receive fanciful names. Unless they conform to this rule they suppose that the camphor crystals, which are found only in the crevices of the wood, will elude them.[1518] The Malanau tribes of Borneo observe the same custom very strictly, believing that the crystals would immediately dissolve if they spoke anything but the camphor language. For example, the common Malanau word for “return” is muli, but in presence of a camphor tree they say beteku. Again, “to hide” is palim in the Malanau language, but when they are looking for camphor they say krian. In like manner, all common names for implements and food are exchanged for others. In some tribes the camphor-seekers may never mention the names of chiefs and influential men; [pg 407] if they broke this rule, they would find no camphor in the trees.[1519]
Special languages used by Malay miners, fowlers, and fishermen.
In the western states of the Malay Peninsula the chief industry is tin-mining, and odd ideas prevail among the natives as to the nature and properties of the ore. They regard it as alive and growing, sometimes in the shape of a buffalo, which makes its way from place to place underground. Ore of inferior quality is excused on the score of its tender years; it will no doubt improve as it grows older. Not only is the tin believed to be under the protection and command of certain spirits who must be propitiated, but it is even supposed to have its own special likes and dislikes for certain persons and things. Hence the Malays deem it advisable to treat tin ore with respect, to consult its convenience, nay, to conduct the business of mining in such a way that the ore may, as it were, be extracted without its own knowledge. When such are their ideas about the mineral it is no wonder that the miners scruple to employ certain words in the mines, and replace them by others which are less likely to give offence to the ore or its guardian spirits. Thus, for example, the elephant must not be called an elephant but “the tall one who turns himself about”; and in like manner special words, different from those in common use, are employed by the miners to designate the cat, the buffalo, the snake, the centipede, tin sand, metallic tin, and lemons. Lemons are particularly distasteful to the spirits; they may not be brought into the mines.[1520] Again, the Malay wizard, who is engaged in snaring pigeons with the help of a decoy-bird and a calling-tube, must on no account call things by their common names. The tiny conical hut, in which he sits waiting for the wild pigeons to come fluttering about him, goes by the high-sounding name of the Magic Prince, perhaps with a delicate allusion to its noble inmate. The calling-tube is known as Prince [pg 408] Distraction, doubtless on account of the extraordinary fascination it exercises on the birds. The decoy-pigeon receives the name of the Squatting Princess, and the rod with a noose at the end of it, which serves to catch the unwary birds, is disguised under the title of Prince Invitation. Everything, in fact, is on a princely scale, so far at least as words can make it so. The very nooses destined to be slipped over the necks or legs of the little struggling prisoners are dignified by the title of King Solomon's necklaces and armlets; and the trap into which the birds are invited to walk is variously described as King Solomon's Audience Chamber, or a Palace Tower, or an Ivory Hall carpeted with silver and railed with amalgam. What pigeon could resist these manifold attractions, especially when it is addressed by the respectful title of Princess Kapor or Princess Sarap or Princess Puding?[1521] Again, the fisher-folk on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula, like their brethren in Scotland, are reluctant to mention the names of birds or beasts while they are at sea. All animals then go by the name of cheweh, a meaningless word which is believed not to be understood by the creatures to whom it refers. Particular kinds of animals are distinguished by appropriate epithets; the pig is “the grunting cheweh,” the buffalo is “the cheweh that says uak,” the snipe is “the cheweh that cries kek-kek,” and so on.[1522] In this respect the fishermen of Patani Bay class together sea spirits, Buddhist monks, beasts, and reptiles; these are all cheweh and their common names may not be mentioned at sea. But, curiously enough, they lay no such embargo on the names of fish and birds, except the vulture and domestic fowls and ducks. At sea the vulture is named “bald head,” the tiger “striped,” the snake “weaver's sword,” the horse “fast,” and a species of monkey “long tail.” The human foot is called “tortoise,” and a Buddhist monk “yellow” on account of the colour of his robe. These Malay fishermen are at least as unwilling to speak of a Buddhist monk at sea as Scotch fishermen are to mention a minister in similar circumstances. If one of them mentions a monk, his mates will fall on him and beat him; whereas for other slips of the tongue they [pg 409] think it enough to throw a little bilge-water over the back of the transgressor and to say, “May the ill-luck be dismissed!” The use of this special language is even more obligatory by night than by day. On shore the fishermen make very merry over those lubberly landsmen who cannot talk correctly at sea.[1523] In like manner Achinese fishermen, in northern Sumatra, employ a special vocabulary when they are at sea. Thus they may not call a mountain a mountain, or mountain-high billows would swamp the boat; they refer to it as “high ground.” They may not speak of an elephant by its proper name of gadjah, but must call it pò meurah. If a man wishes to say that something is clear, he must not use the ordinary word for clear (lheuëh) because it bears the meaning also of “free,” “loose”; and the utterance of such a word might enable the fish to get free from the net and escape. Instead of lheuëh he must therefore employ the less dangerous synonym leungka. In like manner, we are told, among the fishermen of the north coast of Java whole lists of words might be compiled which are tabooed at sea and must be replaced by others.[1524]
Names of things and animals tabooed in Sumatra, Nias, and Java.
In Sumatra the spirits of the gold mines are treated with as much deference as the spirits of the tin-mines in the Malay Peninsula. Tin, ivory, and the like may not be brought by the miners to the scene of their operations, for at the scent of such things the spirits of the mine would cause the gold to vanish. For the same reason it is forbidden to refer to certain things by their proper names, and in speaking of them the miners must use other words. In some cases, for example in removing the grains of the gold, a deep silence must be observed; no commands may be given or questions asked,[1525] probably because the removal of the precious metal is regarded as a theft which the spirits would punish if they caught the thieves in the act. Certainly the [pg 410] Dyaks believe that gold has a soul which seeks to avenge itself on men who dig the precious metal. But the angry spirit is powerless to harm miners who observe certain precautions, such as never to bathe in a river with their faces turned up stream, never to sit with their legs dangling, and never to tie up their hair.[1526] Again, a Sumatran who fancies that there is a tiger or a crocodile in his neighbourhood, will speak of the animal by the honourable title of “grandfather” for the purpose of propitiating the creature.[1527] In the forest a Karo-Batak refers to a tiger as “Grandfather to whom the wood belongs,” “he with the striped coat,” or “the roving trap.”[1528] Among the Gayos of Sumatra it is forbidden to mention the name of small-pox in the house of a man who is suffering from the disease; and the words for ugly, red, stinking, unlucky, and so forth are forbidden under the same circumstances. The disease is referred to under the title of “prince of the averters of misfortune.”[1529] So long as the hunting season lasts, the natives of Nias may not name the eye, the hammer, stones, and in some places the sun by their true names; no smith may ply his trade in the village, and no person may go from one village to another to have smith's work done for him. All this, with the exception of the rule about not naming the eye and the sun, is done to prevent the dogs from growing stiff, and so losing the power of running down the game.[1530] During the rice-harvest in Nias the reapers seldom speak to each other, and when they do so, it is only in whispers. Outside the field they must speak of everything by names different from those in common use, which gives rise to a special dialect or jargon known as “field speech.” It has been observed that some of the words in this jargon [pg 411] resemble words in the language of the Battas of Sumatra.[1531] While these rice-reapers of Nias are at work they may not address each other by their names; they must use only such general terms as “man,” “woman,” “girl,” “old man,” and “old woman.” The word for “fire” may not pass their lips; instead of it they must use the word for “cold.” Other words tabooed to them during the harvest are the words for “smoke” and “stone.” If a reaper wishes to ask another for his whetstone to sharpen his knife, he must speak of it as a “fowl's egg.”[1532] In Java when people suspect that a tiger or crocodile is near, they avoid the use of the proper name of the beast and refer to him as “the old lord” or “grandfather.” Similarly, men who are watching a plantation to protect it from wild boars speak of these animals as “handsome men” (wong bagus). When after harvest the unhusked rice is to be brought into the barn, the barn is not called a barn but “the dark store-house.” Serious epidemics may not be mentioned by their true names; thus smallpox is called the “pretty girl” (lara bagus). The Javanese are particularly careful to eschew certain common words at evening or night. Thus the snake is then called a “tree-root”; the venomous centipede is referred to as the “red ant”; oil is spoken of as “water”; and so forth. And when leaves and herbs are being gathered for use in medicine they are regularly designated by other than their ordinary names.[1533]