CUSTOMS CONNECTED WITH ILLNESS AND DEATH

As on occasions of rejoicing—marriage, harvest-festivals, celebration of successful war or hunting expeditions—so in times of sorrow—illness or death—are the ministrations of the priestesses in demand. Illness—except that which is the direct result of wounds received in foray or battle—is regarded as being due to the machinations of the malevolently inclined, living or dead. That is, it may be a living enemy whose evil and powerful Ottofu causes pain and illness; or it may be the Ottofu of the ghost of some dead enemy. Serious illness is more usually attributed to the latter, since the Ottofu of a ghost is considered to have more power than that of any living person.

Naturally the element of terror enters into such a conception; also that of helplessness, since against an enemy already dead there can be no reprisal. The advantage is all on the side of the dead man—an auto-suggestion which tends, of course, to aggravate the illness of the living.

In any case of illness a priestess is summoned. The usual mode of procedure on the part of this lady is first to wave a banana-leaf over the patient, chanting as she does so. This is evidently to brush away—or frighten away—any evilly inclined Ottofu that may be hovering about. Then, squatting by the side of the sufferer, she begins to suck at that spot on his—or her—body where the patient complains of greatest pain, and to breathe upon it; now and then she stops sucking, and rocks herself to and fro, as she balances on her heels, chanting in time to the rocking motion. If it be suspected that the Ottofu of a living enemy has caused the illness, the priestess will throw into the air her strips of black and white (i.e. natural-coloured) bamboo, and upon the pattern formed by these, as they fall, will depend her decision as to who is responsible for the illness of the patient. The guilty person will thereupon be hunted down by relatives of the ill man or woman,[84] and a blood-feud will result, for illness or suffering caused by the living can be cured only by the death of the one responsible.

Should the priestess decide, however, that it is the Ottofu of a ghost which has caused the trouble, then only “prayer and fasting” can avail—or can be tried, the prayer taking the form of chanting, which often becomes wild and hysterical, the priestess sometimes rising to her feet and dancing as she chants. Apparently the point of the chanting is to invoke the ghosts of the ill man’s ancestors, and to beseech these to overcome the ghost of his enemy. If, by chance, the patient survives the sucking and chanting, and recovers, his recovery is of course attributed to the intercession of the priestess.

Among many of the sub-tribes—or tribal groups—of the Taiyal, especially those living in the eastern part of the Taiyal territory, the officiating priestess, in cases of serious illness, attempts to learn the decision of the ghost-ancestors, as to whether they will restore the patient to health, or whether they consider it time for him to join themselves. This she does by grasping tightly between her knees a bamboo tube which projects in front; on this tube she balances a stone with a hole pierced through it—an object which is considered sacred. Above this sacred object she waves her hands. If the stone remains balanced on the bamboo, it is thought the patient will recover. If it drops to the ground, it is believed that the ancestors have determined to call the ill man to themselves.

In any case, if death is seen to be inevitable, relatives and friends of the dying man gather about his bedside and “wail his spirit across the bridge.”[85]

The Dutch writers of the seventeenth century state that among certain of the aborigines of Formosa (which tribe is not specified) it was the custom to take the very ill man out of his hut, bind a rope of vegetable fibre or twisted vines about his body, and by means of this rope suspend him to the bent-down spring-branch of a tree, then release the branch, which release would have the effect of throwing the dying man violently to the ground, thus “breaking his neck and all his limbs.” The aborigines told the Dutch that they did this in order to shorten the suffering of the dying. But the Dutch missionary Fathers, who claimed to have witnessed this peculiar act of barbarity, seemed to think the real motive which actuated those responsible was to save themselves the trouble of tending the ill and dying.

To whatever extent this custom may have prevailed in the days of the Dutch occupation of the island, it is, I think, no longer observed, either among the Taiyal nation of the North or among any of the various tribes of the South. Whether or not the giving up of this practice among those tribes where it formerly existed was due to the influence of the Dutch missionaries, I do not know. If so, it seems never to have been resumed. Among the tribes of both the North and the South, at the present time, the ill and dying are tended by priestesses and wailed over by members of the family—and, if a person of prominence, by other members of the village or community as well—until the breath has left the body.

After death there is a difference among the tribes as to the disposition of the body. With the Taiyal—also the Saisett, the smaller tribe of the North which seems to have borrowed Taiyal customs—the dead man or woman is simply left in the house which was his, or her, abode during life. In the case of a man, the weapons which he used during life, also pipe and tobacco, are left with the body; in the case of a woman, agricultural implements—hoe or digging-stick—and tobacco are left. The loom which she used, for some reason, is not left. This distinction—between agricultural implements and loom—apparently is made because the former is regarded as belonging exclusively to the individual woman, while the latter is used communally by a number of women of the village. At least such is the explanation given; but one cannot help wondering to what extent considerations of a practical nature enter into the distinction made, since a digging-stick or hoe, such as is used by Taiyal women, can be made in much less than a day, while it requires many days of labour to make a loom.

With the bodies of both men and women a little food and wine are left—a share in the funeral feast, which is partaken of by every adult member of the village, including the nearest relations of the deceased, whose appetites do not seem to be affected by their loss.

In all the “dead-houses” that I have seen the roof has been broken in. This I am told is done by the funeral party at the time that they abandon the house; but whether by thus covering the corpse with the broken-in roof—bamboo and grass—the intention is to save the body from desecration by dogs or other animals, or whether it is to prevent the spirit of the dead man from quitting the house in which his body has been left, is an open question. Certainly the living seem to stand much in dread of the Ottofu of the recently deceased. This was impressed upon me more than once when I attempted to go near one or another of these abandoned houses of the dead. I was gently drawn back and made to understand that I was running very grave danger.

As the Taiyal houses are built only of bamboo and of a sort of coarse grass which grows in the mountains, the erection of a new house for the family of the deceased is not a serious undertaking; more especially as all the men of the village assist at the building of the new house, which is always erected at a respectful distance from the one that has been given over to the dead. The new house is often erected in a single day.

It may be that the difference in the style of houses—consequently in the amount of time and labour involved in their construction—accounts for the difference in burial customs between the Taiyal, on the one hand, and certain of the southern tribes, notably the Paiwan and a portion of the Ami and Bunun, on the other. Those of the Ami who live immediately on the coast, in the vicinity of Chinese villages, have adopted the Chinese custom of inhumation of the dead outside the house; but those who live inland from the coast follow what was evidently their original custom, as it is still that of the Paiwan and the eastern Bunun; namely, the burial of the dead, in a crouching position, underneath the hearth-stone of the family home. Gruesome as the custom may seem to Western minds—and unhygienic—it is accepted as a matter of course by the tribes among whom it exists, and the idea of its exciting horror in the mind of anyone else seems to them incredible and absurd. The houses of the people who practise this peculiar form of inhumation are substantially built of slate (the mode of construction to be described in greater detail under a subsequent heading); one or more slabs of slate being used as a hearth, on which a fire is kept always burning—or, during the dry season, smouldering.

When the death occurs of any member of the family, the body is bound with strands of coarse grass in a stooping, or crouching, posture. Then after the usual funeral ceremonies, both of wailing and of feasting, are concluded, the ashes are scraped from the hearth—care being taken, however, that the coals are kept “alive,” for should these be extinguished, or grow cold, it would be considered an omen of evil, and would also “displease the Ottofu” of the dead—and the hearth-stones are removed. A deep hole is dug in the place from which the stones have been moved. This is usually lined with grass before the body is lowered into it. The personal belongings of the deceased are also placed in the grave, which is then filled in, the hearth-stone replaced, and the fire rekindled. Then the life of the surviving members of the household goes on as before.

After several members of the household have died, naturally the space occupied by the graves extends beyond that covered by the hearth-stones, but always the graves are grouped as closely as possible beneath the hearth. Whether originally this was done that the heat of the fire might the more quickly decompose the bodies I do not know. At the present time the only reason given for this custom is the stereotyped one, “Thus have our fathers always done”—an answer which makes one wonder, in connection with many customs, at what point in evolution man ceased to be satisfied with this reason for doing, or leaving undone, the things which make up the routine of his life.

The funeral customs of the western Bunun—or of certain communities among them—are reminiscent of the customs, described by the Dutch Fathers, as having been in vogue among the aborigines in their day. Among these people—the western Bunun—the dead receive both a “green” and a “dry” funeral. After death the body is slowly dried for nine days before a fire in the house in which the deceased died, funeral festivities being continued by the living during this time. This process is said partially to mummify, or desiccate, the body (I have not myself been present at such a funeral). At the end of the ninth day, the body is wrapped in cloths and placed on a platform in the open, similar to that on which the dead of the American Indians of the western plains are placed. This platform is also draped about with native cloth. At the end of three years, the bones are removed from the platform and buried beneath the house which the man had occupied during his lifetime. This second, or “dry,” funeral is, like the first, or “green” one, made an occasion for drinking and feasting—an essential part of every ceremony, whether of rejoicing or of sorrow. After the “dry” funeral, the widow, or widower, of the deceased is considered free to contract another alliance, should he, or she, feel so inclined. To remarry before the “dry” funeral, three years after the death of the deceased, would be contrary to tribal custom; therefore one of the things that is never done.

Among none of the tribes of the Formosans did I see any evidence of the wearing of the bones of the deceased as an indication of mourning—as is the case in certain parts of Indonesia. Nor is there anything approaching “suttee,” or the sacrifice, in any form, of the widow at the death of her husband. This, however, would scarcely be expected in a country where women “hold the upper hand,” as is apparently the case in Formosa.