CHAPTER XII
BURIAL RITES
During my stay in Dulukan, Mafel, one of the most popular and respected men of the district, was slowly dying of a malignant cancer of the face, which was destroying his lower jaw and penetrating deep into his throat. Day by day we had reports of his courageous and patient suffering, and of the devotion to him of his only daughter, Gyeiga, who never left his side, doing everything in her power to minister to his needs, trying to give him food, and fanning him night and day to keep the swarms of mosquitoes and flies from annoying him as he lay propped up on his mat spread on the hard floor. He had been treated for some weeks in the government hospital at the other end of the island, but when he found he was gradually becoming worse, he begged to be taken back to his own home where he could see his friends and pass away quietly; he was carried thither and the skill of all the most renowned mach-machs was invoked to dispel the demons of disease and enlist Yalafath’s sympathy and protection in behalf of the patient sufferer. In spite of all their energetic efforts, however, slow starvation reduced him to a mere skeleton, and finally word was brought to us early one morning that poor Mafel’s tafenai had wandered away from him in the night and had gone to Falraman. The devotion of Gyeiga did not cease, even then; she still sat by the side of the repulsive corpse, fanning untiringly, and wailing forth some disjointed snatches of a death song, wherein were recounted the good qualities and kindnesses of him who had been indeed a father to her; the dirge was constantly interrupted with a refrain—O Mafel, O garfuku,—“O Mafel, O poor one!”
A messenger was immediately dispatched to the far-northern end of the island to notify Mafel’s uncle, Livamadai, his nearest relative, an important chief and momok man; on him rested the decision as to whether the body should be buried on the following day, or kept two or three days longer. To defer the funeral is a tribute of honour to the corpse; haste in burial affords the chance of a visitation from the athegith, wherefrom sickness and mishaps surely follow.
Old Livamadai, toothless, bald, and bent in the knees, hobbled down the next day and decided that the following day, or the third day after death, would be a delay sufficient to show respect to Mafel’s remains. Poor Gyeiga had one more weary night of vigil; they said she never left the side of the body and took barely a mouthful of food or a wink of sleep all those three long days and nights. The atmosphere of the house was truly unbearable; I went to ask her if I might come to the funeral, and if she had any objection to my taking some photographs, and, after expressing my deep sympathy and receiving her willing permission, I retired as quickly as I possibly could from that inexpressibly noisome and dark house of death.
On the following day there was a constant procession passing our house on the way to the funeral; each person bearing a gift for the corpse, usually strings of pearl-shell money or single large shells; some of the wealthy and liberal friends brought a fei of such size that it required two men to carry it.
I went to the house with Fatumak a little after noon; they said that Mafel probably would not be buried until late in the day.
When we arrived at the house I noticed that the space about it, enclosed by a fence of light bamboo, was occupied by women only; Fatumak explained to me that he would have to leave me at the entrance, if I intended to go in; it was against custom for any, except women and the slave class, to enter the yard of a dead man’s house while his body was unburied; of course, I, as a foreigner, would not be restricted.
I set up my camera and focussed it on that side of the house where they would probably break through the walls to bring out the body,—through a doorway it is never carried, it inevitably brings ill luck to the living inmates,—then I rejoined Fatumak just outside the fence to watch and wait and ask questions. It was evident from the number of presents deposited at one end of the yard, beyond the group of guests, that Mafel had been very popular and that his friends were wealthy, and lavish withal, both in money and sympathy. “Yes,” whispered Fatumak, “Mafel was truly a fine man; we all liked him; those presents will be pretty nearly all returned after he is buried; they bring them to show their sorrow, but it is always expected that they will get them back again.”
FUNERAL GIFTS OF STONE MONEY AND PEARL SHELLS