The Manóbos of Mindanáo / Memoirs of the National Academy of Sciences, Volume XXIII, First Memoir

by John M. Garvan

THE WHISTLING SCHEME

The greatest deception of all was the whistling scheme. This was carried on usually at night, because it was distinctly against the spirit of the movement to call upon one's Magbabáya for an answer except at nighttime and in the absence of a bright light, unless the Magbabáya of the priest or priests present first intimated his desire to speak.

The method of audible communication between the priest and his familiar deity was very simple. The priest called out in his ordinary voice, "Magbabáya." If the deity was present, and had not gone off on some errand of his own, or had not run away, he answered by a long, low whistle. The interrogating priest then went on to consult the deity about the matter which he had in view, whether the end of the world was nigh, whether the prospective trip would be dangerous, or whether a boar hunt would be successful. The deity answered by a number of whistles, intelligible to the priest only, and long or short according to the amount of information supposed to be conveyed.

That this procedure was fraud I need not say. I investigated the matter personally and found that the whistling was done either by the priest himself or by a colleague of the priest. Thus in Kati'il, where I first heard it, I slyly looked into the alcove whence the sound proceeded and descried[sic] one of my companions, an assistant of the priest, squeezed into one corner with his hand over his mouth for the purpose of disguising the direction of the sound.

Upon the first favorable opportunity I quietly upbraided my companion, the high priest, for his complicity, but he merely conjured me not to reveal it to anyone else lest he and his companions be killed.

On another occasion I heard a high priest question his divinity as to the amount of a fine to be imposed and distinctly heard 15 low chirps proceeding from the supposed Magbabáya in answer. The priest interpreted this to signify 15 pesos. As the priest continued to consult his familiar on various subjects, I proceeded to investigate and saw a young friend of mine seated in a hammock, his head bent down and his hand placed at his mouth in an effort to divert the direction of the sound. I was within a few feet of this young fellow and could plainly see by the light of the kitchen fire the attitude of the impersonator and distinctly hear his whistling. The seance continued for some 10 minutes, the impersonator chirping out answers to the questioning priest. The listeners were fully convinced that the sounds were of divine origin and expressed that conviction by uttering some such expressions as, "Oh what a beautiful voice the Magbabáya has," "Túñgud, Túñgud," "Oh, he is up on the roof now!" As it is often difficult to determine the direction whence a sound comes, the people would sometimes dispute as to where the god was, one maintaining, for example, that he was above the house, while another maintained that he was below it. Of course such matters were referred to the priest, who always knew the exact location of the imaginary god.

Some priests made use of small bamboo contrivances and some used their little hawk bells to produce the voice of their spirits. In one case the use of a small jingle bell elicited expressions of great admiration for the softness and sweetness of the supposed deity's voice. "Oh, what a melodious voice," one would say, while another would respond, "Yes; it is like a tiny flute."

Seances of this kind were of constant occurrence and yielded the priest a harvest of donations. Those who desired to acquire definite knowledge concerning any subject of importance had to ask a priest to consult his deity, and after the consultation they were expected to make a suitable offering. I once called upon a priest to find out for me the name of the individual who had stolen my scissors. The deity did not respond at the first call, for the reason that, as the priest informed me, he had gone on a trip to Libagánon, so we postponed the consultation in order to afford him time to recall the absent divinity. I can not say what means he was supposed to have taken to bring about the return of the spirit, but the extra service cost me a trifle more. Not long after, when the fire did not cast such a glare and the light had been extinguished, there was a fairly audible chirp proceeding, as all those present said, from the camote clearing. "Ah! he is here," they all said. The priest then accosted the deity in this manner: "Why dids't thou delay, Magbabáya?" and then went on to find out the name of the stealer of my scissors. The supposed deity, however, would not reveal the actual name lest I should quarrel with the individual--a proceeding that would be in violation of a current taboo--but he vouchsafed me the information that it was a female that was guilty. As it turned out subsequently the supposed divinity erred on this point, so as a matter of policy I claimed the restitution of what I had paid the priest for the consultation.