Malay Magic / Being an introduction to the folklore and popular religion of the Malay Peninsula

by Walter William Skeat

A long interval now ensued, but at length, after many convulsive twitchings, the shrouded figure arose, amid the intense excitement of the entire company, and went upon its hands and feet. The Tiger Spirit had taken possession of the Pawang’s body, and presently a low, but startlingly life-like growl—the unmistakable growl of the dreaded “Lord of the Forest”—seemed to issue from somewhere under our feet, as the weird shrouded figure began scratching furiously at the mat upon which it had been quietly lying, and then, with occasional pauses for the emission of the growls, which had previously startled us, and the performance of wonderful cat-like leaps, rapidly licked up the handfuls of rice which had been thrown upon the floor in front of it. This part of the performance lasted, however, but a few minutes, and then the evident excitement of the onlookers was raised to fever pitch, as the bizarre, and, as it seemed to our fascinated senses, strangely brute-like form stooped suddenly forward, and slowly licked over, as a tigress would lick its cub, the all but naked body of the patient—a performance (to a European) of so powerfully nauseating a character that it can hardly be conceived that any human being could persist in it unless he was more or less unconscious of his actions. At all events, after his complete return to consciousness at the conclusion of the ceremony, even the Pawang experienced a severe attack of nausea, such as might well be supposed to be the result of his performance. Meanwhile, however, the ceremony continued. Reverting to a sitting posture (though still with shrouded head), the Pawang now leaned forward over the patient, and with the point of his dagger drew blood from his own arm; then rising to his feet he engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand combat with his invisible foe (the spirit whom he had been summoned to exorcise). At first his weapon was the dagger, but before long he discarded this, and laid about him stoutly enough with the sheaf of areca-palm blossom.

Presently, however, he quieted down somewhat, and commenced to “stroke” the sick man (as before) with the sheaf of palm-blossom, beating out the blossom upon the floor as usual at the end of the operation. Then sitting down again and crooning to himself, he partook of betel-leaf, faced round towards the patient and stooped over him, muttering as he did so, and passing his hands all over the prostrate form. Next he turned once more to the jars and again plunged his dagger into each of them in turn (to make sure that the evil spirit was not lurking in them), and then drawing his head-cloth over his head so as to completely hide his face, he once more took his seat beside the patient, stooping over him from time to time and crooning charms as he did so.

Finally he clapped his hands, removed his head-cloth, “stroked” the patient over and flicked him with the corners of it, and then shrouding himself once more in the sarong, lay down at full length in a state of complete exhaustion. A pause of about ten minutes’ duration now followed, and then with sundry convulsive twitchings the Pawang returned to consciousness and sat up, and the ceremony was over.

The following description of a ceremony similar to the one just described is taken from Malay Sketches:—

“The bĕr-hantu is, of course, a survival of præ-Islam darkness, and the priests abominate it, or say they do; but they have to be a little careful, because the highest society affects the practice of the Black Art.

“To return to the king’s house. In the middle of the floor was spread a puâdal, a small narrow mat, at one end of which was seated a middle-aged woman dressed like a man in a short-sleeved jacket, trousers, a sârong, and a scarf fastened tightly round her waist. At the other end of the mat was a large newly-lighted candle in a candlestick. Between the woman and the taper were two or three small vessels containing rice coloured with turmeric, parched padi, and perfumed water. An attendant sat near at hand.

“The woman in male attire was the Pâwang, the Raiser of Spirits, the Witch, not of Endor, but of as great repute in her own country and among her own people. In ordinary life she was an amusing lady named Raja Ngah, a scion of the reigning house on the female side, and a member of a family skilled in all matters pertaining to occultism. In a corner of the room were five or six girls holding native drums, instruments with a skin stretched over one side only, and this is beaten usually with the fingers. The leader of this orchestra was the daughter of Raja Ngah.

“Shortly after I sat down, the proceedings began by the Pâwang covering her head and face with a silken cloth, while the orchestra began to sing a weird melody in an unknown tongue. I was told it was the spirit language; the air was one specially pleasing to a particular Jin, or Spirit, and the invocation, after reciting his praises, besought him to come from the mountains or the sea, from underground or overhead, and relieve the torments of the King.

“As the song continued, accompanied by the rhythmical beating of the drums, the Pâwang sat with shrouded head in front of the lighted taper, holding in her right hand against her left breast a small sheaf of the grass called daun sambau, tied tightly together and cut square at top and bottom.

“This châdak she shook, together with her whole body, by a stiffening of the muscles, while all eyes were fixed upon the taper.