Stirring scenes in savage lands

by James Greenwood

These victims are used to pave the king’s grave. They are called grass, and when they are arranged in a row at the bottom of the sepulchre the king’s corpse is couched on them. It is only, however, great chiefs who demand so extensive a human couch; a dignitary of minor importance is content with two bodies as his grave floor: sometimes a man and a woman, sometimes two women. If an important personage dies it is considered intolerable if his confidential man—his bosom friend and adviser—should object to accompany his master as grass. It is very common, too, when a great man dies in Figi to strangle and bury with him an able bodied man, who takes with him his club to protect the exalted one from the malicious attacks of his enemies in the land of spirits. For the same purpose a bran new and well oiled club is placed in the dead hand of the chief himself. To return, however, to the dead king of Somosomo and Mr. Williams’ narrative:

“Leaving the women to adjust the hair of the victims, to oil their bodies, cover their faces with vermilion, and adorn them with flowers, I passed on to see the remains of the deceased Tnithaken. To my astonishment I found him alive. He was weak but quite conscious, and whenever he coughed placed his hand on his side as though in pain. Yet his chief wife and a male attendant were covering him with a thick coat of black powder, and tying round his arms and legs a number of white scarfs, fastened in rosettes with the long ends hanging down his sides. His head was turbaned in a scarlet handkerchief secured by a chaplet of small white cowries, and he wore armlets of the same shells. On his neck was the ivory necklace formed in long curved points. To complete his royal attire according to the Figian idea, he had on a very large new masi, the train being wrapped in a number of loose folds at his feet. No one seemed to display real grief, which gave way to show and ceremonies. The whole tragedy had an air of cruel mockery. It was a masquerading of grim death—a decking as for a dance bodies which were meant for the grave.

“I approached the young king whom I could not regard without abhorrence. He seemed greatly moved and embraced me before I could speak. ‘See,’ said he, ‘the father of us two is dead! His spirit is gone. You see his body move, but that it does unconsciously.’” Knowing that it would be useless to argue the point the missionary ceased to care about the father, but begged of the young king that no more victims might be sacrificed, and after some little show of obstinacy gained his point.

Preparations were then made for conveying the still living man to the grave. The bodies of the women—the grave grass—were fastened to mats and carried on biers; they were carried behind the king, whose stirring body was not brought out at the door of the house, but the wall being knocked down he was carried through that way (Mr. Williams is unable to account for this singular proceeding). The funeral procession moved down to the sea-side and embarked in a canoe which was silently paddled to the sepulchre of Figian royalty. Here arrived, the grave was found ready dug, the murdered grass was packed at the bottom, and after the king’s ornaments were taken off him he too was lowered into the hole, covered with cloth and mats and then with earth, and “was heard to cough after a considerable quantity of soil had been thrown into the grave.”

Although this is an end to the body, many other ceremonies remain for performance. The most ordinary way to express sorrow for the dead in Figi is to shave—the process being regulated according to the affinity of the mourner to deceased. Fathers and sons will shave their heads and cheeks as bare as pumpkins; nephews and cousins shave merely the summit of the cranium. Among the women, however, the mourning customs are much more horrible and lasting in effect. Some burn fantastic devices on their bodies with hot irons, while others submit to have their fingers chopped off. On the occasion of the royal death and burial above narrated, “orders were issued that one hundred fingers should be cut off; but only sixty were amputated, one woman losing her life in consequence. The fingers being each inserted in a slit reed were stuck along the eaves of the king’s house.”

“Mourning Suit of Leaves.”

Among the various modes of expressing grief among the Figians, Mr. Williams records that of lying out night after night along the grave of a friend; allowing the great mop of hair to go untouched for months; abstinence from oiling the body (a tremendous mortification); and the wearing garments of leaves instead of cloth. These practices, however, are optional; others there are that are imperative, and among them one almost unmentionable from its loathsome character. The ceremony is called Vathavidiulo, or “jumping of worms,” and consists of the relatives of deceased assembling the fourth day after the burial, and minutely discussing the present condition of the body of the departed. The next night, however, is not passed in so doleful a manner; for then takes place the Vakadredre, or “causing to laugh,” when the most uproarious fun is indulged in for the purpose of enabling the mourners to forget their grief. On the death of a man high in station, a ludicrous custom is observed, says Williams:—“About the tenth day, or earlier, the women arm themselves with cords, switches, and whips, and fall upon any men below the highest chiefs, plying their whips unsparingly. I have seen grave personages, not accustomed to move quickly, flying with all possible speed before a company of such women. Sometimes the men retaliate by bespattering their assailants with mud; but they use no violence, as it seems to be a day on which they are bound to succumb.”

It will be easily understood that since so little respect is paid to the lives of kings and great warriors, bloodshed and barbarous murder are rife enough among the poorer classes. And there can be no doubt that, although the various frightful customs peculiar to the Figians have their foundation, and are still upheld as a rule in a purely religious spirit, extensive advantage is taken of the same in furthering mercenary and spiteful ends. The brother of a dead Figian of considerable means, might, for instance, find it convenient to persuade the widows—the heirs to the property—to show their devotedness by consenting to be strangled and buried with their husband, that he may, as next of kin, take immediate possession of the goods and chattels, etc. Where the dead man was poor, his relatives would probably rather be at the pains to convince the widow of her duty than at the expense of maintaining her.

The murder of the sick among the Figians is regarded as a simple and proper course, and one that need not be observed with anything like secrecy. A fellow missionary of the Rev. Mr. Williams found a woman in Somosomo who was in a very abject state through the protracted absence of her husband. For five weeks, although two women lived in the same house, she lay uncared for, and was reduced to a mere skeleton, but being provided with food and medicine from the mission-house, began to get well. One morning, as an attendant was carrying the sick woman’s breakfast, he was met and told by her relations that he could take the food back—the woman was buried. The man then related to the missionaries that while he was at the sick house the previous day, an old woman came in, and addressing the patient, said, “I came to see my friend, and inquire whether she was ready to be strangled yet; but as she is strong we will let her he a while.” It would seem, however, that in the course of an hour or so the woman’s barbarous nurses saw fit to alter their plans.