Among the Head-Hunters of Formosa

by Janet B. Montgomery McGovern

One, or more, of these customs naturally exists among primitive peoples in various parts of the world; it is the combination of these, welded into a well-defined social organization, that makes the latter unique.

That “head-hunting” should be included under the head of “social organization” may seem perhaps a contradiction in terms—head-hunting not being exactly a social custom. I think, however, that anyone who has lived among a head-hunting tribe will realize how closely this custom is interwoven with the fabric of their whole social organization. It regulates the social and political standing of the men of the tribe; it is directly connected with marriage—no head, no wife; and is reflected in the games, the songs, and the dances of the people. Moreover head-hunting is regulated by a code as rigid as the code of “an officer and a gentleman” in so-called civilized society—and is rather less frequently broken.

Deniker, in speaking of the Dyaks of Borneo (see The Races of Man, p. 251), aptly remarks: “A number of acts regarded as culpable by the codes of all civilized states are yet tolerated, and even extolled, in certain particular circumstances; such as the taking of life, for example, in legitimate defence, in a duel, during war, or as a capital punishment. Thus, in recalling examples of this kind, we shall be less severe on a Dyak who cuts off a man’s head solely that he may carry this trophy to his bride; for if he did otherwise he would be repulsed by all.” The same charity for which Deniker pleads in judgment of the Dyak may well be extended to the Formosan aborigine, who never thus seeks private vengeance, whatever his provocation, on one of his fellow-tribesmen,[55] private disputes being always laid before the chief—male or female—of the tribe or before the chief-priestess, or a convocation of the elderly women of the tribal group. Also when a Formosan has voluntarily given his word to refrain from head-hunting, it is said—and my personal observation would tend to confirm this—that he never breaks it.[56]

The tribes among whom head-hunting still exists are the Taiyal, the Bunun, and the Paiwan, though among the Bunun and the Paiwan to a lesser extent at the present time than among the Taiyal. Among all the other Chin-huan tribes it existed within the memory of the older generation still living.

Among the Taiyal tribe—the great tribe of the northern part of the island—one can tell at a glance who has “a head to his credit,” by the presence, or absence, of the tattoo-mark on the chin. Occasionally one sees the insignia of the successful head-hunter tattooed on the chin of young boys. This indicates that these boys are the sons of famous head-hunters and that their hands have been laid upon heads decapitated by their fathers; or that they have carried these heads in net-bags upon their backs. This, by tribal code, entitles them to the successful head-hunter’s tattoo-mark. Incidentally, it must be understood that while the Taiyal are—largely because of their peculiar form of tattooing—usually regarded as a single tribe, they do not so regard themselves, but are composed of a number of sub-groups (it is said twenty-six), who regard themselves as separate units; and who consequently go on head-hunting expeditions against each other.

When a boy attains maturity he is supposed to celebrate this by going on his first head-hunting expedition.[57] Usually several boys of about the same age go together on their first expedition, accompanied by older and more experienced warriors of the same group, or sub-tribe. Before going on such an expedition an omen is always consulted—usually a bird-omen, of which I shall speak more fully under the head of Religion—and it depends upon the favourable or unfavourable indication of the omen as to whether the expedition is undertaken forthwith or is postponed. The Taiyal consider it more auspicious to set forth on such an expedition with an odd number of men. They seem to think the chances will be greater of securing a head, which will count as a man, and thus make up the “lucky even number” with which they hope to return to the village.

During the absence of the warriors on one of these expeditions, the women of the group will abstain from weaving, or even from handling the material—a sort of coarse native hemp—which customarily they weave into clothing. Except for the studious tending of the fires in their respective huts—for if these were allowed to go out, it would be considered a most evil omen—they do little until they hear in the distance the cries which herald the return of the warriors. Then, depending upon whether the cries denote victory or defeat, the women prepare either for a festival or for a time of lamentation.

If the warriors have been successful—that is, if they have returned with one or more heads of slain enemies—a great feast is prepared, and partaken of by the men and women together. In this respect Formosan feasts differ from the victorious warrior-feasts of many other primitive communities, at which only the men are the revellers. This difference also distinguishes the dance that follows the feast, in which both men and women participate, the Formosan aborigines forming an exception to the rule laid down by Deniker that Malay men do not dance. As in feasting and dancing, so do the women also take part in the drinking of wine—made by themselves from millet—and in the smoking of tobacco. Among the Taiyal, as among most of the other tribes, both men and women smoke bamboo pipes—more of the size and shape of those smoked by Europeans than are the tiny pipes smoked by the Chinese and Japanese. These are, however, for some reason which they could not, or would not, explain, often held upside-down while being smoked, the tobacco being very tightly “jammed” into the bowl to prevent its falling out.

Among the coast Ami, only the men smoke pipes, the bowls of which are often decorated with bits of metal—bartered from the Chinese—in imitation of the features of a human face. The women of this tribe smoke huge cigars.

How tobacco was introduced into Formosa, where now it grows practically wild—the leaves being gathered by the women—is a mystery. Probably, however, it was first brought to the island by the Dutch; and, once having been planted in a soil favouring its growth, it continued to flourish and to spread, in spite of what in Europe and in America would be called lack of cultivation. Now smoking is universal among all the tribes of the main island of Formosa. Among the Yami alone—of Botel Tobago—it is, up to the present time, unknown; as is also, apparently, the drinking of any intoxicating liquor. Another thing that differentiates these gentle people from their neighbours of the main island, just to the north of them, is the fact that none of them are head-hunters.