Malay Magic 3

Malay Magic 3

It would probably be wrong to assume the foregoing expressions to have always been merely figurative. Rather, perhaps, we should consider them as part of a singularly complete and consistent animistic system formerly invented and still held by the Malays. Again, from the above ideas it follows that if you call a soul in the right way it will hear and obey you, and you will thus be able either to recall to its owner's body a soul which is escaping (riang semangat), or to abduct the soul of a person whom you may wish to get into your power (mengambil semangat orang), and induce it to take up its residence in a specially prepared receptacle, such as (a) a lump of earth which has been sympathetically connected by direct contact with the body of the soul's owner, or (b) a wax mannikin so connected by indirect means, or even (c) a cloth which has had no such connection whatever. And when you have succeeded in getting it into your power the abducted and now imprisoned soul will naturally enjoy any latitude allowed to (and suffer from any mutilation of) its temporary domicile or embodiment. [102] Every man is supposed (it would appear from Malay charms) to possess seven souls [103] in all, or, perhaps, I should more accurately say, a sevenfold soul. [104] This "septenity in unity" may perhaps be held to explain the remarkable importance and persistency of the number seven in Malay magic, as for instance the seven twigs of the birch, and the seven repetitions of the charm (in Soul-abduction [105]), the seven betel leaves, the seven nights' duration of the ceremony, the seven blows administered to the soul (in other magical and medical ceremonies), and the seven ears cut for the Rice-soul in reaping. [106] And, finally, it might explain why the lime-branch which is hung up in the mosquito-curtain (in another form of soul-abduction [107]) is required to possess seven fruits on a single stalk, i.e. to ensure there being a separate receptacle for each one of the seven souls. At the present day the ordinary Malay talks usually of only a single soul, although he still keeps up the old phraseology in his charms and charm-books. For the rest, it would appear that there may be some method in the selection and arrangement of colours. The "lump of earth from the victim's footprint" used in one form of the soul-abduction ceremony [108] is to be wrapped up in three thicknesses of cloth, which must be red, black, and yellow respectively, the yellow being outside. Again (in the ceremony of casting out "the mischief" from a sick man), a white cosmetic is assigned for use in the morning, a red cosmetic for mid-day, and black for sundown. [109] Now in all, I believe, of what are now called the Federated Malay States, and probably in all Malay States whatsoever, yellow is the colour used by royalty, whereas the more exalted and sacred colour, white (with occasional lapses into yellow), has been adopted by Malay medicine-men as the colour most likely to conciliate the spirits and demons with whom they have to deal. Thus the soul-cloth, which, by the way, is always five cubits long (lima hasta), is sometimes white and (much more rarely) yellow, and hence in the first instance just quoted, the yellow cloth, being, next to white, of the colour which is most complimentary to the demons, is the one which is put outside; and in the second instance, for similar reasons, the white cosmetic is to be used first. The working out of this system, however, must await fresh evidence, and all I would do now is to emphasise the importance of colour in such investigations, and to urge the collection of fresh material. [110] (d) Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral Souls Hitherto I have treated of human souls only, but animal, mineral, and vegetable souls will now be briefly discussed. Speaking generally, I believe the soul to be, within certain limits, conceived as a diminutive but exact counterpart of its own embodiment, so that an Animal-soul would be like an animal, a Bird-soul like a bird; however, lower in the scale of creation it would appear that the Tree- or Ore-souls, for instance, are supposed, occasionally at least, to assume the shape of some animal or bird. Thus the soul of Eagle-wood is thought to take the shape of a bird, the soul of Tin-ore that of a buffalo, the Gold-soul that of a deer. [111] It has, however, always been recognised that the soul may enter other bodies besides its own, or even bodies of a different kind to its own, and hence these may be only apparent exceptions to the rule that the soul should be the counterpart of its own embodiment. [112] "Among races within the limits of savagery, the general doctrine of souls is found worked out with remarkable breadth and consistency. The souls of animals are recognised by a natural extension from the theory of human souls; the souls of trees and plants follow in some vague, partial way, and the souls of inanimate objects expand the general category to its extremest boundary." [113] To the Malay who has arrived at the idea of a generally animated Nature, but has not yet learned to draw scientific distinctions, there appears nothing remarkable or unnatural in the idea of vegetation-souls, or even in that of mineral-souls--rather would he consider us Europeans illogical and inconsistent were he told that we allowed the possession of souls to one half of the creation and denied it to the other. Realising this, we are prepared to find that the Malay theory of Animism embraces, at least partially, the human race, [114] animals [115] and birds, [116] vegetation [117] (trees and plants), reptiles and fishes, [118] until its extension to inert objects, such as minerals, [119] and "stocks and stones, weapons, boats, food, clothes, ornaments, and other objects, which to us are not merely soulless, but lifeless," brings us face to face with a conception with which "we are less likely to sympathise." Side by side with this general conception of an universally animate nature, we find abundant evidences of a special theory of Human Origin which is held to account not only for the larger mammals, but also for the existence of a large number of birds, and even for that of a few reptiles, fishes, trees and plants, but seems to lose its operative force in proportion to its descent in the scale of creation, until in the lowest scale of all, the theory of Human Origin disappears from sight, and nothing remains but the partial application of a few vague anthropomorphic attributes. [120] It is, doubtless, to the prevalence of this theory that we owe the extraordinary persistence of anthropomorphic ideas about animals, birds, reptiles, trees, if not of minerals, in Malay magical ceremonies; [121] and it is hard to say which of these two notions--the theory of Human Origin, or the other theory of Universal Animism--is to be considered the original form of Malay belief. The following tale, which is entitled Charitra Megat Sajobang, and is told by Selangor Malays, will serve as an illustration of the idea of Human Origin:-- "There was a married Sakai couple living at Ulu Klang, and they had a son called Megat Sajobang. When he grew up he said to his mother, 'Mother, get me a passage, I want to go and see other countries.' She did so, and he left Ulu Klang; and ten or twelve years later, when he had grown rich enough to buy a splendid ship (p'rahu), he returned with his wife, who was with child, and seven midwives, who were watched over by one of his body-guard with a drawn sword. His mother heard the news of his return, and she made ready, roasting a chika (monkey) and lotong (monkey), and went with his father on board their bark canoe to meet their son. "As they approached they hailed him by his name; but he was ashamed of their humble appearance, and forbade his men to let them on board. Though his wife advised him to acknowledge them, 'even if they were pigs or dogs,' the unfilial son persisted in turning them away. So they went back to the shore and sat down and wept; and the old mother, laying her hand upon her shrivelled breast, said, 'If thou art really my son, reared at my breast, mayest thou be changed into stone.' In response to her prayer, milk came forth from her breast, and as she walked away, the ship and all on board were turned into stone. The mother turned round once more to look at her son, but the father did not, and by the power of God they were both turned into trees of the species pauh (a kind of mango) one leaning seawards and the other towards the land. The fruit of the seaward one is sweet, but that of the landward one is bitter. "The ship has now become a hill, and originally was complete with all its furniture, but the Malays used to borrow the plates and cups, etc., for feast days and did not return them, until at last there were none left." CHAPTER III Relations with the Supernatural World (a) The Magician "The accredited intermediary between men and spirits is the Pawang; [122] the Pawang is a functionary of great and traditional importance in a Malay village, though in places near towns the office is falling into abeyance. In the inland districts, however, the Pawang is still a power, and is regarded as part of the constituted order of society, without whom no village community would be complete. It must be clearly understood that he has nothing whatever to do with the official Muhammadan religion of the mosque; the village has its regular staff of elders--the Imam, Khatib, and Bilal--for the mosque service. But the Pawang is quite outside this system, and belongs to a different and much older order of ideas; he may be regarded as the legitimate representative of the primitive 'medicine-man' or 'village-sorcerer,' and his very existence in these days is an anomaly, though it does not strike Malays as such. "Very often the office is hereditary, or at least the appointment is practically confined to the members of one family. Sometimes it is endowed with certain 'properties' handed down from one Pawang to his successor, known as the kabesaran, or, as it were, regalia. On one occasion I was nearly called upon to decide whether these adjuncts--which consisted, in this particular case, of a peculiar kind of head-dress--were the personal property of the person then in possession of them (who had got them from his father, a deceased Pawang), or were to be regarded as official insignia descending with the office in the event of the natural heir declining to serve! Fortunately I was spared the difficult task of deciding this delicate point of law, as I managed to persuade the owner to take up the appointment. "But quite apart from such external marks of dignity, the Pawang is a person of very real significance. In all agricultural operations, such as sowing, reaping, irrigation works, and the clearing of jungle for planting, in fishing at sea, in prospecting for minerals, and in cases of sickness, his assistance is invoked. He is entitled by custom to certain small fees; thus, after a good harvest he is allowed, in some villages, five gantangs of padi, one gantang of rice (beras), and two chupaks of emping (a preparation of rice and cocoa-nut made into a sort of sweetmeat) from each householder. After recovery from sickness his remuneration is the very modest amount of tiga wang baharu, that is, 7 1/2 cents. "It is generally believed that a good harvest can only be secured by complying with his instructions, which are of a peculiar and comprehensive character. "They consist largely of prohibitions, which are known as pantang. Thus, for instance, it is pantang in some places to work in the rice-field on the 14th and 15th days of the lunar month; and this rule of enforced idleness, being very congenial to the Malay character, is, I believe, pretty strictly observed. "Again, in reaping, certain instruments are proscribed, and in the inland villages it is regarded as a great crime to use the sickle (sabit) for cutting the padi; at the very least the first few ears should be cut with a tuai, a peculiar small instrument consisting of a semicircular blade set transversely on a piece of wood or bamboo, which is held between the fingers, and which cuts only an ear or two at a time. Also the padi must not be threshed by hitting it against the inside of a box, a practice known as banting padi. "In this, as in one or two other cases, it may be supposed that the Pawang's ordinances preserve the older forms of procedure and are opposed to innovations in agricultural methods. The same is true of the pantang (i.e. taboo) rule which prescribes a fixed rate of price at which padi may be sold in the village community to members of the same village. This system of customary prices is probably a very old relic of a time when the idea of asking a neighbour or a member of your own tribe to pay a competition price for an article was regarded as an infringement of communal rights. It applies to a few other articles of local produce [123] besides padi, and I was frequently assured that the neglect of this wholesome rule was the cause of bad harvests. I was accordingly pressed to fine transgressors, which would perhaps have been a somewhat difficult thing to do. The fact, however, that in many places these rules are generally observed is a tribute to the influence of the Pawang who lends his sanction to them." [124] "The Pawang keeps a familiar spirit, which in his case is a hantu pusaka, that is, an hereditary spirit which runs in the family, in virtue of which he is able to deal summarily with the wild spirits of an obnoxious character." [125] The foregoing description is so precise and clear that I have not much to add to it. There are, however, one or two points which require emphasis. One of these is that the priestly magician stands in certain respects on the same footing as the divine man or king--that is to say, he owns certain insignia which are exactly analogous to the regalia of the latter, and are, as Mr. Blagden points out, called by the same name (kabesaran). He shares, moreover, with the king the right to make use of cloth dyed with the royal colour (yellow), and, like the king, too, possesses the right to enforce the use of certain ceremonial words and phrases, in which respect, indeed, his list is longer, if anything, than that of royalty. He also acts as a sort of spirit-medium and gives oracles in trances; possesses considerable political influence; practises (very occasional) austerities; observes some degree of chastity, and appears quite sincere in his conviction of his own powers. At least he always has a most plausible excuse ready to account for his inability to do whatever is required. An aged magician who came from Perak to doctor one of H.H. the Sultan's sons (Raja Kahar) while I was at Langat, had the unusual reputation of being able to raise a sandbank in the sea at will; but when I asked if I could see it done, he explained that it could only be done in time of war when he was hard pressed by an enemy's boat, and he could not do it for the sake of mere ostentation! Moreover, like members of their profession all the world over, these medicine-men are, perhaps naturally, extremely reticent; it was seldom that they would let their books be seen, much less copied, even for fair payment, and a Pawang once refused to tell me a charm until I had taken my shoes off and was seated with him upon a yellow cloth while he repeated the much-prized formula. The office of magician is, as has been said, very often hereditary. It is not so always, however, there being certain recognised ways in which a man may "get magic." One of the most peculiar is as follows: "To obtain magical powers (`elmu) you must meet the ghost of a murdered man. Take the midrib of a leaf of the 'ivory' cocoa-nut palm (pelepah niyor gading), which is to be laid on the grave, and two more midribs, which are intended to represent canoe-paddles, and carry them with the help of a companion to the grave of the murdered man at the time of the full moon (the 15th day of the lunar month) when it falls upon a Tuesday. Then take a cent's worth of incense, with glowing embers in a censer, and carry them to the head-post of the grave of the deceased. Fumigate the grave, going three times round it, and call upon the murdered man by name:--     'Hearken, So-and-so,     And assist me;     I am taking (this boat) to the saints of God,     And I desire to ask for a little magic.' [126] Here take the first midrib, fumigate it, and lay it upon the head of the grave, repeating 'Kur Allah' ('Cluck, cluck, God!') seven times. You and your companion must now take up a sitting posture, one at the head and the other at the foot of the grave, facing the grave post, and use the canoe-paddles which you have brought. In a little while the surrounding scenery will change and take upon itself the appearance of the sea, and finally an aged man will appear, to whom you must address the same request as before." (b) High Places "Although officially the religious centre of the village community is the mosque, there is usually in every small district a holy place known as the kramat, [127] at which vows are paid on special occasions, and which is invested with a very high degree of reverence and sanctity. "These kramats abound in Malacca territory; there is hardly a village but can boast some two or three in its immediate neighbourhood, and they are perfectly well known to all the inhabitants. "Theoretically, kramats are supposed to be the graves of deceased holy men, the early apostles of the Muhammadan faith, the first founders of the village who cleared the primeval jungle, or other persons of local notoriety in a former age; and there is no doubt that many of them are that and nothing more. But even so, the reverence paid to them and the ceremonies that are performed at them savour a good deal too much of ancestor-worship to be attributable to an orthodox Muhammadan origin. "It is certain, however, that many of these kramats are not graves at all: many of them are in the jungle, on hills and in groves, like the high places of the Old Testament idolatries; they contain no trace of a grave (while those that are found in villages usually have grave-stones), and they appear to be really ancient sites of a primitive nature-worship or the adoration of the spirits of natural objects. "Malays, when asked to account for them, often have recourse to the explanations that they are kramat jin, that is, "spirit"-places; and if a Malay is pressed on the point, and thinks that the orthodoxy of these practices is being impugned, he will sometimes add that the jin in question is a jin islam, a Muhammadan and quite orthodox spirit! "Thus on Bukit Nyalas, near the Johol frontier, there is a kramat consisting of a group of granite boulders on a ledge of rock overhanging a sheer descent of a good many feet; bamboo clumps grow on the place, and there were traces of religious rites having been performed there, but no grave whatever. This place was explained to me to be the kramat of one Nakhoda Hussin, described as a jin (of the orthodox variety), who presides over the water, rain, and streams. People occasionally burned incense there to avert drought and get enough water for irrigating their fields. There was another kramat of his lower down the hill, also consisting of rocks, one of which was shaped something like a boat. I was informed that this jin is attended by tigers which guard the hill, and are very jealous of the intrusion of other tigers from the surrounding country. He is believed to have revealed himself to the original Pawang of the village, the mythical founder of the kampong of Nyalas. In a case like this it seems probable that the name attached to this object of reverence is a later accretion, and that under a thin disguise we have here a relic of the worship of the spirit of rivers and streams, a sort of elemental deity localised in this particular place, and still regarded as a proper object of worship and propitiation, in spite of the theoretically strict monotheism of the Muhammadan creed. Again, at another place the kramat is nothing but a tree, of somewhat singular shape, having a large swelling some way up the trunk. It was explained to me that this tree was connected in a special way with the prospects of local agriculture, the size of the swelling increasing in good years and diminishing in bad seasons! Hence it was naturally regarded with considerable awe by the purely agricultural population of the neighbourhood. "As may be imagined, it is exceedingly difficult to discover any authentic facts regarding the history of these numerous kramats: even where there is some evidence of the existence of a grave, the name of the departed saint is usually the one fact that is remembered, and often even that is forgotten. The most celebrated of the Malacca kramats, the one at Machap, is a representative type of the first class, that in which there really is a grave: it is the one place where a hardened liar respects the sanctity of an oath, and it is occasionally visited in connection with civil cases, when the one party challenges the other to take a particular oath. A man who thinks nothing of perjuring himself in the witness-box, and who might not much mind telling a lie even with the Koran on his head, will flinch before the ordeal of a falsehood in the presence of the Dato' Machap." [128] After explaining the difference between beneficent spirits and the spirits of evil, Mr. Blagden continues: "Some time ago one of these objectionable hantus (spirits of evil) had settled down in a kerayong tree in the middle of this village of Bukit Senggeh, and used to frighten people who passed that way in the dusk; so the Pawang was duly called upon to exorcise it, and under his superintendence the tree was cut down, after which there was no more trouble. But it is certain that it would have been excessively dangerous for an ordinary layman to do so. "This point may be illustrated by a case which was reported to me soon after it occurred, and which again shows the intimate connection of spirits with trees. A Javanese coolie, on the main road near Ayer Panas, cut down a tree which was known to be occupied by a hantu. He was thereupon seized with what, from the description, appears to have been an epileptic fit, and showed all the traditional symptoms of demoniac possession. He did not recover till his friends had carried out the directions of the spirit, speaking through the sufferer's mouth, it seems, viz., to burn incense, offer rice, and release a fowl. After which the hantu left him. "In many places there are trees which are pretty generally believed to be the abodes of spirits, and not one Malay in ten would venture to cut one down, while most people would hardly dare to go near one after dark. On one occasion an exceptionally intelligent Malay, with whom I was discussing the terms on which he proposed to take up a contract for clearing the banks of a river, made it an absolute condition that he should not be compelled to cut down a particular tree which overhung the stream, on the ground that it was a 'spirit' tree. That tree had to be excluded from the contract." [129] The following description, by Sir W. Maxwell, of a Perak kramat may be taken as fairly typical of the kramat, in which there really is a grave:-- "Rightly or wrongly the Malays of Larut assign an Achinese origin to an old grave which was discovered in the forest some years ago, and of which I propose to give a brief description. It is situated about half-way between the Larut Residency and the mining village of Kamunting. In the neighbourhood the old durian trees of Java betoken the presence of a Malay population at a date long prior to the advent of the Chinese miner. The grave was discovered about twenty years ago by workmen employed by the Mentri of Perak to make the Kamunting road, and it excited much curiosity among the Malays at the time. The Mentri and all the ladies of his family went on elephants to see it, and it has been an object of much popular prestige ever since. "The Malays of Java were able from the village tradition to give the name and sex of the occupant of this lonely tomb, 'Toh Bidan Susu Lanjut,' whose name sounds better in the original than in an English translation. She is said to have been an old Achinese woman of good family; of her personal history nothing is known, but her claims to respectability are evinced by the carved head and foot stones of Achinese workmanship which adorn her grave, and her sanctity is proved by the fact that the stones are eight feet apart. It is a well-known Malay superstition that the stones placed to mark the graves of Saints miraculously increase their relative distance during the lapse of years, and thus bear mute testimony to the holiness of the person whose resting-place they mark. "The kramat on the Kamunting road is on the spur of a hill through which the roadway is cut. A tree overshadows the grave and is hung with strips of white cloth and other rags (panji panji) which the devout have put there. The direction of the grave is as nearly as possible due north and south. The stones at its head and foot are of the same size, and in every respect identical one with the other. They are of sandstone, and are said by the natives to have been brought from Achin. In design and execution they are superior to ordinary Malay art, as will be seen, I think, on reference to the rubbings of the carved surface of one of them, which have been executed for me by the Larut Survey Office, and which I have transmitted to the Society with this paper. The extreme measurements of the stones (furnished from the same source) are 2' 1'' × 0' 9'' × 0' 7''. They are in excellent preservation, and the carving is fresh and sharp. Some Malays profess to discover in the three rows of vertical direction on the broadest face of the slabs the Mohammedan attestation of the unity of God (La ilaha illa-lla) repeated over and over again; but I confess that I have been unable to do so. The offerings at a kramat are generally incense (istangi or satangi) or benzoin (kaminian); these are burned in little stands made of bamboo rods; one end is stuck in the ground and the other split into four or five, and then opened out and plaited with basket work so as to hold a little earth. They are called sangka; a Malay will often vow that if he succeeds in some particular project, or gets out of some difficulty in which he may happen to be placed, he will burn three or more sangka at such and such a kramat. Persons who visit a kramat in times of distress or difficulty, to pray and to vow offerings, in case their prayers are granted, usually leave behind them as tokens of their vows small pieces of white cloth, which are tied to the branches of a tree or to sticks planted in the ground near the sacred spot. For votary purposes the long-forgotten tomb of Toh Bidan Susu Lanjut enjoys considerable popularity among the Mohammedans of Larut; and the tree which overshadows it has, I am glad to say, been spared the fate which awaited the rest of the jungle which overhung the road. No coolie was bold enough to put an axe to it." [130] Mr. George Bellamy, writing in 1893, thus described the kramat at Tanjong Karang in the Kuala Selangor district:-- "The kramat about which I am now writing is a very remarkable one. It is situated on the extreme point of land at the mouth of the river Selangor, close to where the new lighthouse has been erected. A magnificent kayu ara (a kind of fig-tree) forms a prominent feature of the tanjong (point or cape), and at the base of this tree, enveloped entirely by its roots, is an oblong-shaped space having the appearance of a Malay grave, with the headstones complete.... To this sacred spot constant pilgrimages are made by the Malays, and the lower branches of the tree rarely lack those pieces of white and yellow cloth which are always hung up as an indication that some devout person has paid his vows. The Chinese also have great respect for this kramat, and have erected a sort of sylvan temple at the foot of the tree." Mr. Bellamy tells how one Raja `Abdullah fell in love with a maiden named Miriam, who disappeared and was supposed to have been taken by the spirits (though she was really carried off by an earlier lover named Hassan). Raja `Abdullah died and was buried at the foot of the fig-tree. Mr. Bellamy concludes: "If you ever happen to see a very big crocodile at the mouth of the Selangor river, floating listlessly about, be careful not to molest it: it is but the buaya kramat, which shape the spirit of Raja `Abdullah sometimes assumes. When walking along the pantai (shore), if you chance to meet a very large tiger let him pass unharmed. It is only Raja `Abdullah's ghost, and in proof thereof you will see it leaves no footmarks on the sand. And when you go to see the new lighthouse at Tanjong Kramat, you may perhaps come face to face with a very old man, who sadly shakes his head and disappears. Do not be startled, it is only Raja `Abdullah." [131] In No. 2 of the same volume of the Selangor Journal Mr. Bellamy refers to another kramat--that of 'Toh Ketapang--which he appears to localise in Ulu Selangor. It is by no means necessary to ensure the popularity of a kramat or shrine that the saint to whose memory it is dedicated should be a Malay. The cosmopolitan character of these shrines is attested in the following note which I sent to the Selangor Journal [132] about the shrines in the Ulu Langat (Kajang) district of Selangor:-- "The chief kramats in the district are 'Makam 'Toh Sayah' (the tomb of a Javanese of high repute); 'Makam Said Idris,' at Rekoh, Said Idris being the father of the Penghulu of Cheras; 'Makam 'Toh Janggut' (a 'Kampar' man), on the road to Cheras; and 'Makam 'Toh Gerdu or Berdu,' at Dusun Tua, Ulu Langat. 'Toh Berdu was of Sakai origin." I have never yet, however, heard of any shrine being dedicated to a Chinaman, and it is probable that this species of canonisation is confined (at least in modern times) to local celebrities professing the Muhammadan religion, as would certainly be the case of the Malays and Javanese mentioned in the foregoing paragraph, and quite possibly too in the case of the Sakai. It is true that Chinese often worship at these shrines--just as, on the same principle, they employ Malay magicians in prospecting for tin; but there appear to be certain limits beyond which they cannot go, as it was related to me when I was living in the neighbourhood, that a Chinaman who had, in the innocence of his heart, offered at a Moslem shrine a piece of the accursed pork, was pounced upon and slain before he reached home by one of the tigers which guarded the shrine. The shrine of 'Toh Kamarong is one of the most celebrated shrines in the Langat district, the saint's last resting-place being guarded by a white elephant and a white tiger, the latter of which had been a pet (pemainan) of his during his lifetime. In this respect it is exactly similar to the shrine of 'Toh Parwi of Pantei in Sungei Ujong, which is similarly guarded, both shrines having been erected on the seashore, it is said, in the days when the sea came much farther inland than it does at present. The fame of 'Toh Kamarong filled the neighbourhood, and it is related that on one occasion an irate mother exclaimed, of a son of hers who was remarkable for his vicious habits, "May the 'Toh Kramat Kamarong fly away with him." Next day the boy disappeared, and all search proved fruitless, until three days later 'Toh Kamarong appeared to her in a dream, and informed her that he had carried the boy off, as she had invited him to do, and that if she were to look for his footprints she would be able to discover them inside the pad-tracks of a tiger one of whose feet was smaller than the rest, and which was then haunting the spot. She did so, and discovered her son's footprints exactly as the saint had foretold. This Ghost-tiger, which no doubt must be identified with 'Toh Kamarong's "pet," used to roam the district when I was stationed in the neighbourhood, and both I and, I believe, the then District Engineer (Mr. Spearing), saw this tiger's tracks, and can vouch for the fact that one footprint was smaller than the rest. This curious feature is thought by the local Malays at least, to be one of the specially distinctive marks of a rimau kramat, or Ghost-tiger, just as the possession of one tusk that is smaller than the other is the mark of a Ghost-elephant. [133] Closely connected with the subject of shrines is that of high places, such as those spots where religious penance was traditionally practised. One of these sacred spots is said to have been situated upon the "Mount Ophir" of Malacca, which is about 4000 feet high, and on which a certain legendary Princess known as Tuan Putri Gunong Ledang is said to have dwelt, until she transferred her ghostly court to Jugra Hill, upon the coast of Selangor. [134] Such fasting-places are usually, as in Java, either solitary hills or places which present some great natural peculiarity; even remarkable trees and rocks being, as has already been pointed out, pressed into the service of this Malay "natural religion." (c) Nature of Rites The main divisions of the magico-religious ceremonies of the Malays are prayer, sacrifice, lustration, fasting, divination, and possession. Prayer, which is defined by Professor Tylor as "a request made to a deity as if he were a man," is still in the unethical stage among the Malays; no request for anything but personal advantages of a material character being ever, so far as I am aware, preferred by the worshipper. The efficacy of prayer is, however, often supposed to be enhanced by repetition. "As prayer is a request made to a deity as if he were a man, so sacrifice is a gift made to a deity as if he were a man.... The ruder conception that the deity takes and values the offering for itself, gives place, on the one hand, to the idea of mere homage as expressed by a gift, and, on the other, to the negative view that the virtue lies in the worshipper depriving himself of something prized." [135] A general survey of the charms and ceremonies brought together in this volume will, I think, be likely to establish the view that the Malays (in accordance with the reported practice of many other races) probably commenced with the idea of sacrifice as a simple gift, and therefrom developed first the idea of ceremonial homage, and later the idea of sacrifice as an act of abnegation. Evidences of the original gift-theory chiefly survive in the language of charms, in which the deity appealed to is repeatedly invited to eat and drink of the offerings placed before him, as a master may be invited to eat by his servants. The intermediate stage between the gift and homage theories is marked by an extensive use of "substitutes," and of the sacrifice of a part or parts for the whole. Thus we even find the dough model of a human being actually called "the substitute" (tukar ganti), and offered up to the spirits upon the sacrificial tray; in the same sense are the significant directions of a magician, that "if the spirit craves a human victim a cock may be substituted" and the custom of hunters who, when they have killed a deer, leave behind them in the forest small portions of each of the more important members of the deer's anatomy, as "representatives" of the entire carcase. In this last case the usual "ritualistic change may be traced from practical reality to formal ceremony." "The originally valuable offering is compromised for a smaller tribute or a cheaper substitute, dwindling at last to a mere trifling token or symbol." [136] This homage-theory will, I believe, be found to cover by far the greater bulk of the sacrifices usually offered by Malays, and the idea of abnegation appears to be practically confined to votal ceremonies or vows (niat), in which the nature and extent of the offering are not regulated by custom, but depend entirely upon the wealth or caprice of the worshipper, there being merely a tacit understanding that he shall sacrifice something which is of more than nominal value to himself. Of the manner in which offerings are supposed to be received by the deity to whom they are offered it is difficult to obtain very much evidence. I have, however, frequently questioned Malays upon this subject, and on the whole think it can very safely be said that the deity is not supposed to touch the solid or material part of the offering, but only the essential part, whether it be "life, savour, essence, quality" or even the "soul." It will perhaps be advisable, in order to avoid repetition, to describe a few of the special and distinctive sub-rites which form part of many of the more important ceremonies, such as (in particular), rites performed at shrines, the rite of burning incense, the scattering of (or banqueting upon) sacrificial rice, and the application of the "Neutralising" Rice-paste (tepong tawar). Of the rites performed at shrines, Mr. Blagden says: "The worship there, as with most other kramats, consists of the burning of incense, the offering of nasi kunyet (yellow rice), and the killing of goats; but I also noticed a number of live pigeons there which illustrate the practice, common in Buddhist countries, of releasing an animal in order to gain 'merit' thereby." At a shrine on the Langat river I have seen fowls which had (I was told) been similarly released. Mr. Blagden's remarks apply with equal force to the services performed at the shrines of Selangor, and I believe also of other States. It should, however, I think, be pointed out that the nasi kunyit (yellow rice) is, usually at all events, eaten by those who take part in the service. At a ceremony which was held on one occasion after my recovery from sickness, and in which, by request, I took part, [137] incense was burnt, and Muhammadan prayers chanted, after which the usual strip of white cloth (five cubits in length) was laid upon the saint's grave (the saint being the father of the present Sultan of Selangor), and the party then adjourned to a shelter some twenty or thirty yards lower down the hill, where, first the men, and then the women and children, partook of the flesh of the slaughtered goat and the saffron-stained rice (pulut). After the meal the Bilal (mosque attendant, who was present with the Malay headman and the local priest of the mosque), returned to the tomb, and making obeisance, recited a Muhammadan prayer, craving permission to take the cloth back for his own use, which he presently did. These Bilals are needy men and live upon the alms of the devout, so I suppose he thought there was no reason why the saint should not contribute something to his support. The burning of incense is one of the very simplest, and hence commonest, forms of burnt sacrifice. Some magicians say that it should be accompanied by an invocation addressed to the Spirit of Incense, which should be besought, as in the example quoted below, to "pervade the seven tiers of earth and sky respectively." It would appear that the intention of the worshipper is to ensure that his "sacrifice of sweet savour" should reach the nostrils of the gods and help to propitiate them, wherever they may be, by means of a foretaste of offerings to follow. This invocation, however, is not unfrequently omitted, or at least slurred over by the worshipper, in spite of the contention of the magicians who use it, that "without it the spell merely rises like smoke which is blown away by the wind." The following is one form of the invocation in question:--     Zabur [138] Hijau is your name, O Incense,     Zabur Bajang the name of your Mother,     Zabur Puteh the name of your Fumes,     Scales from the person of God's Apostle [139] were your Origin.     May you fumigate the Seven Tiers of the Earth,     May you fumigate the Seven Tiers of the Sky,     And serve as a summons to all Spirits, to those which have magic     powers, and those which have become Saints of God,     The Spirits of God's elect, who dwell in the Halo of the Sun,     And whose resort is the "Ka`bah" of God,     At even and morn, by night and day;     And serve as a summons to the Elect of God,     Who dwell at the Gate of the Spaces of Heaven,     And whose resort is the White Diamond     In the Interior of Egypt, at morn and eve,     Who know (how) to make the dead branch live,     And the withered blossom unfold its petals,     And to perform the word of God;     By the grace of (the creed) "There is no god but God," etc. The direction taken by the fumes of the incense is observed and noted for the purpose of divination; this feature of the rite will be noticed under the heading of Medicine. [140] Another form of sacrifice consists in the scattering of rice. The sacrificial rice (Oryza sativa) used in the ceremonies is always of the following kinds: firstly, parched rice (b'ras bertih); secondly, washed rice (b'ras basoh); thirdly, saffron-stained rice (b'ras kunyit, i.e. rice stained with turmeric); [141] and, finally, a special kind of glutinous rice called pulut (Oryza glutinosa), which is also very generally used for sacrificial banquets. Of these, the parched rice is generally used for strewing the bottom of the sacrificial tray (anchak) when the framework has been covered with banana leaves, but the offerings have not yet been deposited within it. The washed and saffron rice are generally used for scattering either over the persons to be benefited by the ceremony, or else upon the ground or house-floor. With reference to the selection of rice for this purpose, it has been suggested that the rice is intended to attract what may be called the "bird-soul" (i.e. the soul of man conceived as a bird) to the spot, or to keep it from straying at a particularly dangerous moment in the life of its owner. The pulut or glutinous rice is the kind of rice generally used for sacrificial banquets, e.g. for banquets at "high places," etc. Lustration is generally accomplished either by means of fire or of water. The best examples of the former are perhaps the fumigation of infants, and the api saleian or purificatory fire, over which women are half-roasted when a birth has taken place, but these being special and distinctive ceremonies, will be described with others of the same nature in Chapter VI. One of the forms of lustration by water, however, appears rather to take the place of a sub-rite, forming an integral portion of a large class of ceremonies, such as those relating to Building, Fishing, Agriculture, Marriage, and so forth. Hence it will be necessary to give a general sketch of its leading features in the present context. The ceremony of lustration by water, when it takes the form of the sub-rite referred to, is called "Tepong Tawar," which properly means "the Neutralising Rice-flour (Water)," "neutralising" being used almost in a chemical sense, i.e. in the sense of "sterilising" the active element of poisons, or of destroying the active potentialities of evil spirits. The rite itself consists in the application [142] of a thin paste made by mixing rice-flour with water: this is taken up in a brush or "bouquet" of leaves and applied to the objects which the "neutralisation" is intended to protect or neutralise, whether they be the posts of a house, the projecting ends of a boat's ribs (tajok p'rahu), the seaward posts of fishing-stakes (puchi kelong), or the forehead and back of the hands of the bride and bridegroom. The brush must be first fumigated with incense, then dipped into the bowl which contains the rice-water, and shaken out almost dry, for if the water runs down the object to which it is applied it is held to "portend tears," whereas if it spreads equally all round (benchar) it is lucky. The composition of the brush, which is considered to be of the highest importance, appears to vary, but only within certain limits. It almost invariably, in Selangor, consists of a selection of leaves from the following plants, which are made up in small bouquets of five, seven, or nine leaves each, and bound round with ribu-ribu (a kind of small creeper), or a string of shredded tree bark (daun t'rap). The following is a list of the leaves generally used:-- 1. Leaves of the grass called sambau dara, which is said to be the symbol of a "settled soul" (`alamat menetapkan semangat), and which hence always forms the core of the bouquet. [143] 2. The leaves of the selaguri, which appears to be "a shrub or small tree with yellow flowers (Clerodendron disparifolium, Bl., Verbenaceæ; or Sida rhombifolia, L., Malvaceæ, a common small shrub in open country)," [144] which is described as one of the first of shrubs (kayu asal), and is said to be used as a "reminder of origin" (peringatan asal). 3. The leaves of the pulut-pulut (the exact identity of which I have not yet ascertained, but which may be the Urena lobata, L., one of the Malvaceae), which is said to be used for the same purpose as the preceding. 4. The leaves of the gandarusa (Insticia gandarusa, L., Acanthaceæ), a plant described as "often cultivated and half-wild--a shrub used in medicine." The selection of this plant is said to be due to its reputation for scaring demons (`alamat menghalaukan hantu). So great is its efficacy supposed to be, that people who have to go out when rain is falling and the sun shining simultaneously--a most dangerous time to be abroad, in Malay estimation,--put a sprig of the gandarusa in their belts. 5. The leaves of the gandasuli (which I have not yet been able to identify, no such name appearing in Ridley's plant-list, but which I believe to be a water-side plant which I have seen, with a white and powerfully fragrant flower). [145] It is considered to be a powerful charm against noxious birth-spirits, such as the Langsuir. 6. The leaves of the sapanggil (which is not yet identified). 7. The leaves of the lenjuang merah, or "the common red dracæna" (Cordyline terminalis, var. ferrea, Liliaceæ). [146] This shrub is planted in graveyards, and occasionally at the four corners of the house, to drive away ghosts and demons. 8. The leaves of the sapenoh (unidentified), a plant with big round leaves, which is always placed outside the rest of the leaves in the bunch.