The theory of the Creation most usually held by Peninsular Malays is summarised in the following passage, quoted (in 1839) by Lieutenant Newbold from a Malay folk-tale:—

“From the Supreme Being first emanated light towards chaos; this light, diffusing itself, became the vast ocean. From the bosom of the waters thick vapour and foam ascended. The earth and sea were then formed, each of seven tiers. The earth rested on the surface of the water from east to west. God, in order to render steadfast the foundations of the world, which vibrated tremulously with the motion of the watery expanse, girt it round with an adamantine chain, viz. the stupendous mountains of Caucasus, the wondrous regions of genii and aerial spirits. Beyond these limits is spread out a vast plain, the sand and earth of which are of gold and musk, the stones rubies and emeralds, the vegetation of odoriferous flowers.

“From the range of Caucasus all the mountains of the earth have their origin as pillars to support and strengthen the terrestrial framework.”1

The Mountains of Caucasus are usually called by Malays Bukit Kof (i.e. Kaf), or the Mountains of Kaf (which latter is their Arabic name). These mountains are not unfrequently referred to in Malay charms, e.g. in invocations addressed to the Rice-Spirit. The Mountains of Kaf are to the Malays a great range which serves as a “wall” (dinding) to the earth, and keeps off both excessive winds and beasts of prey. This wall, however, is being bored through by people called Yajuj and Majuj (Gog and Magog), and when they succeed in their task the end of all things will come. Besides these mountains which surround the earth there is a great central mountain called Mahameru (Saguntang Maha Biru, or merely Saguntang-guntang).2 In many Malay stories this hill Mahameru is identified with Saguntang-guntang on the borders of Palembang in Sumatra.

The account which I shall now give, however, differs considerably from the preceding. It was taken down by me from an introduction to a Malay charm-book belonging to a magician (one ?Abdul Razzak of Klang in Selangor), with whom I was acquainted, but who, though he allowed me to copy it, would not allow me either to buy or borrow the book:3—

“In the days when Haze bore Darkness, and Darkness Haze, when the Lord of the Outer Silence Himself was yet in the womb of Creation, before the existence of the names of Earth and Heaven, of God and Muhammad, of the Empyrean and Crystalline spheres, or of Space and Void, the Creator of the entire Universe pre-existed by Himself, and He was the Eldest Magician. He created the Earth of the width of a tray and the Heavens of the width of an umbrella, which are the universe of the Magician. Now from before the beginning of time existed that Magician—that is, God—and He made Himself manifest with the brightness of the moon and the sun, which is the token of the True Magician.”

The account proceeds to describe how God “created the pillar of the Ka?bah,4 which is the Navel of the Earth, whose growth is comparable to a Tree, ... whose branches are four in number, and are called, the first, ‘Sajeratul Mentahar,’ and the second ‘Taubi,’ and the third, ‘Khaldi,’ and the fourth ‘Nasrun ?Alam,’ which extend unto the north, south, east, and west, where they are called the Four Corners of the World.”

Next we read that the word of God Almighty came in secret to Gabriel, saying, “Take me down the iron staff of the ‘Creed’ which dangles at the gate of heaven, and kill me this serpent Sakatimuna.”5 Gabriel did so, and the serpent brake asunder, the head and forepart shooting up above the heavens, and the tail part penetrating downwards beneath the earth.6 The rest of the account is taken up with a description, that need not here be repeated, of the transformation of all the various parts of the serpent’s anatomy, which are represented as turning with a few exceptions into good and evil genii.

The most curious feature of the description is perhaps the marked anthropomorphic character of this serpent, which shows it to be a serpent in little more than name. It seems, in fact, very probable that we have here a reminiscence of the Indian “Naga.”7 Thus we find the rainbow (here divided into its component parts) described as originating from the serpent’s sword with its hilt and cross-piece (guard), grass from the hair of its body, trees from the hair of its head, rain from its tears, and dew from its sweat.

Another account, also obtained from a local magician, contains one or two additional details about the tree. “Kun,” said God, “Payah8 kun” said Muhammad, and a seed was created.

“The seed became a root (lit. sinew), the root a tree, and the tree brought forth leaves.

“‘Kun,’ said God, ‘Payah kun,’ said Muhammad; ... Then were Heaven and Earth (created), ‘Earth of the width of a tray, Heaven of the width of an umbrella.’”

This is a curious passage, and one not over-easy to explain; such evidence as may be drawn from analogy suggests, however, that the “Earth of the width of a tray, and Heaven of the width of an umbrella,” may be intended to represent respectively the “souls” (semangat) of heaven and earth, in which case they would bear the same relation to the material heaven and earth as the man-shaped human soul does to the body of a man.

“Most Malays,” says Newbold, “with whom I have conversed on the subject, imagine that the world is of an oval shape, revolving upon its own axis four times in the space of one year; that the sun is a circular body of fire moving round the earth, and producing the alternations of night and day.”

To this I would add that some Malays, at least, whom I questioned on the subject (as well as some Sakais9 under Malay influence), imagined the firmament to consist of a sort of stone or rock which they called Batu hampar, or “Bed rock,” the appearance of stars being caused (as they supposed) by the light which streams through its perforations.

A further development of the Malay theory of the earth declares it to be carried by a colossal buffalo upon the tip of its horns.10 When one horn begins to tire the buffalo tosses it up and catches it upon the tip of the other, thus causing periodical earthquakes. This world-buffalo, it should be added, stands upon an island in the midst of the nether ocean.11 The universe is girt round by an immense serpent or dragon (Ular Naga), which “feeds upon its own tail.”

The Malay theory of the tides is concisely stated by Newbold:12—

“Some Malays ascribe the tides to the influence of the sun; others to some unknown current of the ocean; but the generality believe confidently the following, which is a mere skeleton of the original legend. In the middle of the great ocean grows an immense tree, called Pauh Jangi,13 at the root of which is a cavern called Pusat Tassek, or navel of the lake. This is inhabited by a vast crab, who goes forth at stated periods during the day. When the creature returns to its abode the displaced water causes the flow of the tide; when he departs, the water rushing into the cavern causes the ebb.”

Mr. Clifford gives a slightly different explanation:—

“The Pusat tasek, or Navel of the Seas, supposed to be a huge hole in the ocean bottom. In this hole there sits a gigantic crab which twice a day gets out in order to search for food. While he is sitting in the hole the waters of the ocean are unable to pour down into the under world, the whole of the aperture being filled and blocked by the crab’s bulk. The inflowing of the rivers into the sea during these periods are supposed to cause the rising of the tide, while the downpouring of the waters through the great hole when the crab is absent searching for food is supposed to cause the ebb.”

Concerning the wonderful legendary tree (the Pauh Janggi) the following story was related to me by a Selangor Malay:—

“There was once a Selangor man named Haji Batu, or the Petrified Pilgrim, who got this name from the fact that the first joints of all the fingers of one hand had been turned into stone. This happened in the following manner. In the old days when men went voyaging in sailing vessels, he determined to visit Mecca, and accordingly set sail. After sailing for about two months they drifted out of their course for some ten or fifteen days, and then came to a part of the sea where there were floating trunks of trees, together with rice-straw (batang padi) and all manner of flotsam. Yet again they drifted for seven days, and upon the seventh night Haji Batu dreamed a dream. In this dream one who wore the pilgrim’s garb appeared to him, and warned him to carry on his person a hammer and seven nails, and when he came to a tree which would be the Pauh Janggi he was to drive the first of the nails into its stem and cling thereto. Next day the ship reached the great whirlpool which is called the Navel of the Seas,14 and while the ship was being sucked into the eddy close to the tree and engulfed, Haji Batu managed to drive the first nail home, and clung to it as the ship went down. After a brief interval he endeavoured to drive in the second nail, somewhat higher up the stem than the first (why Haji Batu could not climb without the aid of nails history does not relate), and drawing himself up by it, drove in the third. Thus progressing, by the time he had driven in all the seven nails he had reached the top of the tree, when he discovered among the branches a nest of young rocs. Here he rested, and having again been advised in a dream, he waited. On the following day, when the parent roc had returned and was engaged in feeding its young with an elephant which it had brought for the purpose, he bound himself to its feathers with his girdle, and was carried in this manner many hundreds of miles to the westward, where, upon the roc’s nearing the ground, he let himself go, and thus dropping to the earth, fell into a swoon. On recovering consciousness he walked on till he came to a house, where he asked for and obtained some refreshment. On his departure he was advised to go westward, and so proceeded for a long distance until he arrived at a beautifully clear pool in an open plain, around which were to be seen many stone figures of human beings. The appearance of these stone figures rendering him suspicious, he refrained from drinking the water, and dipped into it merely the tips of his fingers, which became immediately petrified. Proceeding he met a vast number of wild animals—pigs, deer, and elephants—which were fleeing from the pursuit of a beast of no great size indeed, but with fiery red fur. He therefore prudently climbed into a tree to allow it to pass. The beast, however, pursued him and commenced to climb the tree, but as it climbed he drove the point of his poniard (badik) into its skull, and killed it. He then robbed it of its whiskers, and thereafter, on his reaching a town, everybody fled from him because of the whiskers which had belonged to so fierce a beast. The Raja of that country, begging for one of them, and giving him food, he presented him with one of the whiskers in payment. After paying his way in a similar manner at seven successive villages, the Petrified Pilgrim at length reached Mecca.”

“Bores,” or “eagres,” at the mouths of rivers, and floods15 due to heavy rain, are conceived to be caused by the passage of some gigantic animal, most probably a sort of dragon, as in the case of landslips, which will be mentioned later.

This animal, whose passage up rivers is held to cause the tidal wave or bore, is called Bena in Selangor. It is a matter of common report among Malays at Jugra, on the Selangor coast, that a bore formerly “frequented” the Langat river, near its mouth. This was anterior to the severance of the narrow neck of land16 at Bandar that divided the old channel of the Langat river from the stream into which the waters of the Langat now flow, forming the short cut to the sea called the Jugra Passage. In the days when the bore came up the river the Malays used to go out in small canoes or dug-outs to “sport amongst the breakers” (main gelombang), frequently getting upset for their pains. Eventually, however (I was told), the bore was killed by a Langat Malay, who struck it upon the head with a stick! It is considered that this must be true, since there is no bore in the Langat river now!

Eclipses (Gerhana) of the sun or moon are considered to be the outward and visible sign of the devouring of those bodies17 by a sort of gigantic dragon (rahu)18 or dog (anjing). Hence the tumult made during an eclipse by the Malays, who imagine that if they make a sufficient din they will frighten the monster away.

The following is an excellent description of a lunar eclipse from the Malay point of view:—

“One night, when the Moon has waxed nearly to the full, Pekan resounds with a babel of discordant noise. The large brass gongs, in which the devils of the Chinese are supposed to take delight, clang and clash and bray through the still night air; the Malay drums throb and beat and thud; all manner of shrill yells fill the sky, and the roar of a thousand native voices rises heavenwards, or rolls across the white waters of the river, which are flecked with deep shadows and reflections. The jungles on the far bank take up the sound and send it pealing back in recurring ringing echoes till the whole world seems to shout in chorus. The Moon which bathes the earth in splendour, the Moon which is so dear to each one of us, is in dire peril this night, for that fierce monster, the GerhÂna,19 whom we hate and loathe, is striving to swallow her. You can mark his black bulk creeping over her, dimming her face, consuming her utterly, while she suffers in the agony of silence. How often in the past has she served us with the light; how often has she made night more beautiful than day for our tired, sun-dazed eyes to look upon; and shall she now perish without one effort on our part to save her by scaring the Monster from his prey? No! A thousand times no! So we shout, and clang the gongs, and beat the drums, till all the animal world joins in the tumult, and even inanimate nature lends its voice to swell the uproar with a thousand resonant echoes. At last the hated Monster reluctantly retreats. Our war-cry has reached his ears, and he slinks sullenly away, and the pure, sad, kindly Moon looks down in love and gratitude upon us, her children, to whose aid she owes her deliverance.”20

The “spots on the moon”21 are supposed to represent an inverted banyan tree (Beringin songsang), underneath which an aged hunchback is seated plaiting strands of tree bark (pintal tali kulit t’rap) to make a fishing-line, wherewith he intends to angle for everything upon the earth as soon as his task is completed. It has never been completed yet, however, for a rat always gnaws the line through in time to save mankind from disaster, despite the vigilance of the old man’s cat, which is always lying in wait for the offender.22 It is perhaps scarcely necessary to add that when the line reaches the earth the end of the world will come.

“Bujang (‘single,’ ‘solitary,’ and hence in a secondary sense ‘unmarried’) is a Sanskrit word bhujangga, ‘a dragon.’ ‘Bujang Malaka,’ a mountain in PÊrak, is said by the Malays of that State to have been so called because it stands alone, and could be seen from the sea by traders who plied in old days between the PÊrak river and the once flourishing port of Malacca. But it is just as likely to have been named from some forgotten legend in which a dragon played a part. Dragons and mountains are generally connected in Malay ideas. The caves in the limestone hill Gunong Pondok, in PÊrak, are said to be haunted by a genius loci in the form of a snake who is popularly called Si Bujang. This seems to prove beyond doubt the identity of bujang with bhujangga.23 The snake-spirit of Gunong Pondok is sometimes as small as a viper, and sometimes as large as a python, but he may always be identified by his spotted neck, which resembles that of a wood-pigeon (tekukur). Landslips on the mountains, which are tolerably frequent during very heavy rains, and which, being produced by the same cause, are often simultaneous with the flooding of rivers and the destruction of property, are attributed by the natives to the sudden breaking forth of dragons (naga), which have been performing religious penance (ber-tapa)24 in the mountains, and which are making their way to the sea.”25

So, too, many waterfalls and rocks of unusual shape are thought to owe their remarkable character to the agency of demons. This, however, is a subject which will be treated more fully later on.

“Palangi, the usual Malay word for the rainbow, means ‘striped.’ The name varies, however, in different localities. In PÊrak it is called palangi minum26 (from a belief that it is the path by which spirits descend to the earth to drink), while in Penang it is known as ular danu (‘the snake danu’). In PÊrak, a rainbow which stretches in an arch across the sky is called bantal (‘the pillow ’), for some reason that I have been unable to ascertain.27 When only a small portion of a rainbow is visible, which seems to touch the earth, it is called tunggul (‘the flag’),28 and if this is seen at some particular point of the compass—the west, I think—it betokens, the PÊrak Malays say, the approaching death of a Raja. Another popular belief is that the ends of the rainbow rest upon the earth, and that if one could dig at the exact spot covered by one end of it, an untold treasure would be found there. Unfortunately, no one can ever arrive at the place.”29

“Sunset is the hour when evil spirits of all kinds have most power.30 In PÊrak, children are often called indoors at this time to save them from unseen dangers. Sometimes, with the same object, a woman belonging to the house where there are young children, will chew kuniet terus (an evil-smelling root), supposed to be much disliked by demons of all kinds, and spit it out at seven different points as she walks round the house.

“The yellow glow which spreads over the western sky, when it is lighted up with the last rays of the dying sun, is called mambang kuning (‘the yellow deity’), a term indicative of the superstitious dread associated with this particular period.”31