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Title: Malay Magic

Author: Walter William Skeat

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALAY MAGIC
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MALAY MAGIC

MALAY MAGIC
BEING

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE

FOLKLORE AND POPULAR

RELIGION OF THE MALAY

PENINSULA

BY
WALTER WILLIAM SKEAT
OF THE CIVIL SERVICE OF THE FEDERATED
MALAY STATES
WITH A PREFACE
BY
CHARLES OTTO BLAGDEN
MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY,
AND FORMERLY OF THE STRAITS
SETTLEMENTS CIVIL SERVICE

London
MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

1900
All rights reserved

TO

SIR CECIL CLEMENTI SMITH

KNIGHT GRAND CROSS OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED ORDER
OF
ST. MICHAEL AND ST. GEORGE
AND FORMERLY
GOVERNOR OF THE STRAITS SETTLEMENTS

THIS BOOK IS (BY PERMISSION)
DEDICATED

“The cry of hosts [we] humour
Ah! slowly, toward the light.”

Rudyard Kipling.

PREFACE
The circumstances attending the composition and publication of the present
work have thrown upon me the duty of furnishing it with a preface
explaining its object and scope.

Briefly, the purpose of the author has been to collect into a Book of Malay
Folklore all that seemed to him most typical of the subject amongst a
considerable mass of materials, some of which lay scattered in the pages of
various other works, others in unpublished native manuscripts, and much in
notes made by him personally of what he had observed during several years
spent in the Malay Peninsula, principally in the State of Selangor. The book
does not profess to be an exhaustive or complete treatise, but rather, as its
title indicates, an introduction to the study of Folklore, Popular Religion,
and Magic as understood among the Malays of the Peninsula.

It should be superfluous, at this time of day, to defend such studies as these
from the criticisms which have from time to time been brought against
them. I remember my old friend and former teacher, Wan ʿAbdullah, a
Singapore Malay of Trengganu extraction and Arab descent, a devout and
learned Muhammadan and a most charming man, objecting to them on the
grounds, first, that they were useless, and, secondly, which, as he
emphatically declared, was far worse, that they were perilous to the soul’s
health. This last is a point of view which it would hardly be appropriate or
profitable to discuss here, but a few words may as well be devoted to the
other objection. It is based, sometimes, on the ground that these studies deal
not with “facts,” but with mere nonsensical fancies and beliefs. Now, for
facts we all, of course, have the greatest respect; but the objection appears
to me to involve an unwarrantable restriction of the meaning of the word: a
belief which is actually held, even a mere fancy that is entertained in the
mind, has a real existence, and is a fact just as much as any other. As a piece
of psychology it must always have a certain interest, and it may on
occasions become of enormous practical importance. If, for instance, in

1857 certain persons, whose concern it was, had paid more attention to facts
of this kind, possibly the Indian Mutiny could have been prevented, and
probably it might have been foreseen, so that precautionary measures could
have been taken in time to minimise the extent of the catastrophe. It is not
suggested that the matters dealt with in this book are ever likely to involve
such serious issues; but, speaking generally, there can be no doubt that an
understanding of the ideas and modes of thought of an alien people in a
relatively low stage of civilisation facilitates very considerably the task of
governing them; and in the Malay Peninsula that task has now devolved
mainly upon Englishmen. Moreover, every notion of utility implies an end
to which it is to be referred, and there are other ends in life worth
considering as well as those to which the “practical man” is pleased to
restrict himself. When one passes from the practical to the speculative point
of view, it is almost impossible to predict what piece of knowledge will be
fruitful of results, and what will not; prima facie, therefore, all knowledge
has a claim to be considered of importance from a scientific point of view,
and until everything is known, nothing can safely be rejected as worthless.

Another and more serious objection, aimed rather at the method of such
investigations as these, is that the evidence with which they have to be
content is worth little or nothing. Objectors attempt to discredit it by
implying that at best it is only what A. says that B. told him about the
beliefs B. says he holds, in other words, that it is the merest hearsay; and it
is also sometimes suggested that when A. is a European and B. a savage, or
at most a semi-civilised person of another breed, the chances are that B. will
lie about his alleged beliefs, or that A. will unconsciously read his own
ideas into B.’s confused statements, or that, at any rate, one way or another,
they are sure to misunderstand each other, and accordingly the record
cannot be a faithful one.

So far as this objection can have any application to the present work, it may
fairly be replied: first that the author has been at some pains to corroborate
and illustrate his own accounts by the independent observations of others
(and this must be his justification for the copiousness of his quotations from
other writers); and, secondly, that he has, whenever possible, given us what
is really the best kind of evidence for his own statements by recording the

charms and other magic formulæ which are actually in use. Of these a great
number has been here collected, and in the translation of such of the more
interesting ones as are quoted in the text of the book, every effort has been
made to keep to literal accuracy of rendering. The originals will be found in
the Appendix, and it must be left to those who can read Malay to check the
author’s versions, and to draw from the untranslated portions such
inferences as may seem to them good.

The author himself has no preconceived thesis to maintain: his object has
been collection rather than comparison, and quite apart from the necessary
limitations of space and time, his method has confined the book within
fairly well-defined bounds. Though the subject is one which would
naturally lend itself to a comparative treatment, and though the comparison
of Malay folklore with that of other nations (more particularly of India,
Arabia, and the mainland of Indo-China) would no doubt lead to very
interesting results, the scope of the work has as far as possible been
restricted to the folklore of the Malays of the Peninsula. Accordingly the
analogous and often quite similar customs and ideas of the Malayan races
of the Eastern Archipelago have been only occasionally referred to, while
those of the Chinese and other non-Malayan inhabitants of the Peninsula
have been excluded altogether.

Moreover, several important departments of custom and social life have
been, no doubt designedly, omitted: thus, to mention only one subject out of
several that will probably occur to the reader, the modes of organisation of
the Family and the Clan (which in certain Malay communities present
archaic features of no common interest), together with the derivative
notions affecting the tenure and inheritance of property, have found no
place in this work. The field, in fact, is very wide and cannot all be worked
at once. The folklore of uncivilised races may fairly enough be said to
embrace every phase of nature and every department of life: it may be
regarded as containing, in the germ and as yet undifferentiated, the notions
from which Religion, Law, Medicine, Philosophy, Natural Science, and
Social Customs are eventually evolved. Its bulk and relative importance
seem to vary inversely with the advance of a race in the progress towards
civilisation; and the ideas of savages on these matters appear to constitute in

some cases a great and complex system, of which comparatively few traces
only are left among the more civilised peoples. The Malay race, while far
removed from the savage condition, has not as yet reached a very high stage
of civilisation, and still retains relatively large remnants of this primitive
order of ideas. It is true that Malay notions on these subjects are undergoing
a process of disintegration, the rapidity of which has been considerably
increased by contact with European civilisation, but, such as they are, these
ideas still form a great factor in the life of the mass of the people.

It may, however, be desirable to point out that the complexity of Malay
folklore is to be attributed in part to its singularly mixed character. The
development of the race from savagery and barbarism up to its present
condition of comparative civilisation has been modified and determined,
first and most deeply by Indian, and during the last five centuries or so by
Arabian influences. Just as in the language of the Malays it is possible by
analysis to pick out words of Sanskrit and Arabic origin from amongst the
main body of genuinely native words, so in their folklore one finds Hindu,
Buddhist, and Muhammadan ideas overlying a mass of apparently original
Malay notions.

These various elements of their folklore are, however, now so thoroughly
mixed up together that it is often almost impossible to disentangle them. No
systematic attempt has been made to do so in this book, although here and
there an indication of the origin of some particular myth will be found; but
a complete analysis (if possible at all) would have necessitated, as a
preliminary investigation, a much deeper study of Hindu and Muhammadan
mythology than it has been found practicable to engage in.

In order, however, to give a clear notion of the relation which the beliefs
and practices that are here recorded bear to the official religion of the
people, it is necessary to state that the Malays of the Peninsula are Sunni
Muhammadans of the school of Shafi’i, and that nothing, theoretically
speaking, could be more correct and orthodox (from the point of view of
Islām) than the belief which they profess.

But the beliefs which they actually hold are another matter altogether, and it
must be admitted that the Muhammadan veneer which covers their ancient
superstitions is very often of the thinnest description. The inconsistency in
which this involves them is not, however, as a rule realised by themselves.
Beginning their invocations with the orthodox preface: “In the name of
God, the merciful, the compassionate,” and ending them with an appeal to
the Creed: “There is no god but God, and Muhammad is the Apostle of
God,” they are conscious of no impropriety in addressing the intervening
matter to a string of Hindu Divinities, Demons, Ghosts, and Nature Spirits,
with a few Angels and Prophets thrown in, as the occasion may seem to
require. Still, the more highly educated Malays, especially those who live in
the towns and come into direct contact with Arab teachers of religion, are
disposed to object strongly to these “relics of paganism”; and there can be
no doubt that the increasing diffusion of general education in the Peninsula
is contributing to the growth of a stricter conception of Islām, which will
involve the gradual suppression of such of these old-world superstitions as
are obviously of an “unorthodox” character.

This process, however, will take several generations to accomplish, and in
the meantime it is to be hoped that a complete record will have been made
both of what is doomed sooner or later to perish, and of what in all
likelihood will survive under the new conditions of our time. It is as a
contribution to such a record, and as a collection of materials to serve as a
sound basis for further additions and comparisons, that this work is offered
to the reader.

A list of the principal authorities referred to will be found in another place,
but it would be improper to omit here the acknowledgments which are due
to the various authors of whose work in this field such wide use has been
made. Among the dead special mention must be made of Marsden, who will
always be for Englishmen the pioneer of Malay studies; Leyden, the gifted
translator of the Sĕjarah Malayu, whose early death probably inflicted on
Oriental scholarship the greatest loss it has ever had to suffer; Newbold, the
author of what is still, on the whole, the best work on the Malay Peninsula;
and Sir William Maxwell, in whom those of us who knew him have lost a

friend, and Malay scholarship a thoroughly sound and most brilliant
exponent.

Among the living, the acknowledgments of the author are due principally to
Sir Frank Swettenham and Mr. Hugh Clifford, who, while they have done
much to popularise the knowledge of things Malay amongst the general
reading public, have also embodied in their works the results of much
careful and accurate observation. The free use which has been made of the
writings of these and other authors will, it is hoped, be held to be justified
by their intrinsic value.

It must be added that the author, having to leave England about the
beginning of this year with the Cambridge scientific expedition which is
now exploring the Northern States of the Peninsula, left the work with me
for revision. The first five Chapters and Chapter VI., up to the end of the
section on Dances, Sports, and Games, were then already in the printer’s
hands, but only the first 100 pages or so had had the benefit of the author’s
revision. For the arrangement of the rest of Chapter VI., and for some small
portion of the matter therein contained, I am responsible, and it has also
been my duty to revise the whole book finally. Accordingly, it is only fair to
the author to point out that he is to be credited with the matter and the
general scheme of the work, while the responsibility for defects in detail
must fall upon myself.

As regards the spelling of Malay words, it must be said that geographical
names have been spelled in the way which is now usually adopted and
without diacritical marks: the names of the principal Native States of the
Peninsula (most of which are repeatedly mentioned in the book) are Kĕdah,
Perak, Sĕlangor, Jŏhor, Păhang, Trĕngganu, Kĕlantan, and Pătani.
Otherwise, except in quotations (where the spelling of the original is
preserved), an attempt has been made to transliterate the Malay words
found in the body of the book in such a way as to give the ordinary reader a
fairly correct idea of their pronunciation. The Appendix, which appeals only
to persons who already know Malay, has been somewhat differently treated,
diacritical marks being inserted only in cases where there was a possible

ambiguity, and the spelling of the original MSS. being changed as little as
possible.

A perfect transliteration, or one that will suit everybody, is, however, an
unattainable ideal, and the most that can be done in that direction is
necessarily a compromise. In the system adopted in the body of the work,
the vowels are to be sounded (roughly speaking) as in Italian, except ĕ
(which resembles the French e in que, le, and the like), and the consonants
as in English (but ng as in singer, not finger; g as in go; ny as ni in onion;
ch as in church; final k and initial h almost inaudible). The symbol ʿ
represents the Arabic ʿain, and the symbol ’ is used (1) between consonants,
to indicate the presence of an almost inaudible vowel, the shortest form of
ĕ, and elsewhere (2) for the hamzah, and (3) for the apostrophe, i.e. to
denote the suppression of a letter or syllable. Both the ʿain and the hamzah
may be neglected in pronunciation, as indeed they are very generally
disregarded by the Malays themselves. In this and other respects, Arabic
scholars into whose hands this book may fall must not be surprised to find
that Arabic words and phrases suffer some corruptions in a Malay context.
These have not, as a rule, been interfered with or corrected, although it has
not been thought worth while to preserve obvious blunders of spelling in
well-known Arabic formulæ. It should be added that in Malay the accent or
stress, which is less marked than in English, falls almost invariably on the
penultimate syllable of the word. Exceptions to this rule hardly ever occur
except in the few cases where the penultimate is an open syllable with a
short vowel, as indicated by the sign ˘.

The illustrations are reproduced from photographs of models and original
objects made by Malays; most of these models and other objects are now in
the Cambridge Archæological and Ethnological Museum, to which they
were presented by the author.

The Index, for the compilation of which I am indebted to my wife, who has
also given me much assistance in the revision of the proof-sheets, will, it is
believed, add greatly to the usefulness of the work as a book of reference.

C. O. BLAGDEN.

Woking, 28th August 1899.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER I

Nature, pp. 1–15 PAGE

(a) Creation of the World 1
(b) Natural Phenomena 5

CHAPTER II

Man and His Place in the Universe, pp. 16–55

(a) Creation of Man 16
(b) Sanctity of the Body 23
(c) The Soul 47
(d) Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral Souls 52

CHAPTER III

Relations with the Supernatural World, pp. 56–82

(a) The Magician 56
(b) High Places 61
(c) Nature of Rites 71

CHAPTER IV

The Malay Pantheon, pp. 83–106

(a) Gods 83
(b) Spirits, Demons, and Ghosts 93

CHAPTER V

Magic Rites connected with the Several Departments of Nature, pp.
107–319

(a) Air—

1. Wind and Weather Charms 107
2. Birds and Bird Charms 109

(b) Earth—

1. Building Ceremonies and Charms 141
2. Beasts and Beast Charms 149
3. Vegetation Charms 193
4. Minerals and Mining Charms 250

(c) Water—

1. Purification by Water 277
2. The Sea, Rivers, and Streams 279
3. Reptiles and Reptile Charms 282
4. Fishing Ceremonies 306

(d) Fire—

1. Production of Fire 317
2. Fire Charms 318

CHAPTER VI

Magic Rites as affecting the Life of Man, pp. 320–580

1. Birth-Spirits 320
2. Birth Ceremonies 332
3. Adolescence 352
4. Personal Ceremonies and Charms 361
5. Betrothal 364

6. Marriage 368
7. Funerals 397
8. Medicine 408
9. Dances, Sports, and Games 457
10. Theatrical Exhibitions 503
11. War and Weapons 522
12. Divination and the Black Art 532

Appendix 581

Note on the word Kramat 673

List of Chief Authorities quoted 675

Index 677

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Fig. PAGE
1. Sacrificing at the Fishing Stakes 311
2. Invoking the Tiger Spirit 438
3. Stand used at Invocation of Spirits 447
4. Main Galah Panjang 500
5. Tapers used in exorcising Evil Spirits 511
6. Taper and Ring used in same Ceremony 512
7. Heptacle on which the Seven-Square is based 558

PLATES

Plate
1. Selangor Regalia 40
2. Spirits 94
3. The Spectre Huntsman 116
4. Pigeon Decoy Hut 133
5. Rice-Soul Baskets 244
6. Bajang and Pĕlĕsit Charms 321
7. Pĕnanggalan and Langsuir 326
8. Betrothal Gifts 365
9. Betrothal Gifts 366
,, ,,
10. Curtain Fringe 372
11. Fig. 1.—Bridal Bouquets 375
Fig. 375
,, 2.—The Henna Cake, etc.
12. Fig. 1.—Bridegroom’s Headdress 378
Fig. 378
,, 2.—Pillow-ends

13. Wedding Procession 381
14. Poko’ Sirih 382
15. Wedding Centrepiece with Dragons, etc. 388
16. Bomor at Work 410
17. Anchak 414
18. Gambor 464
19. Pĕdikir 466
20. Fig. 1.—Musical Instruments 508
Fig. 508
,, 2.—Demon Mask
21. Masks of Clowns and Demon 513
22. Kuda Sĕmbrani 514
23. Fig. 1.—Hanuman 516
Fig. 516
,, 2.—Pauh Janggi and Crab
24. Fig. 1.—Weather Chart 544
Fig. 544
,, 2.—Diagram
25. Diagrams 555
26. Diagrams 558
,,
27. Diagrams 561
,,
28. Fig. 1.—Wax Figures 570
Fig. 570
,, 2.—Spirit Umbrellas and Tapers

CHAPTER I

Nature

(a) Creation of the World

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 ʿAbdul 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
Kaʿbah,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 ʿAlam,’ 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” (sĕmangat) 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.

(b) Natural Phenomena

“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 Bĕnă 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 gĕlombang), 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 (Gĕrhana) 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, Pĕkan 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 Gĕrhâna,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 (Bĕringin 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 tĕrus (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

1 Newbold, British Settlements in the Straits of Malacca, vol. ii. pp. 360, 361. ↑

2 Vide Vishnu Purana, vol. ii. p. 109; trans. by Wilson. ↑
3 The full Malay text of this introduction will be found in the Appendix. ↑
4 Lit. “A cube.” The cube-like building in the centre of the Mosque at Makkah (Mecca), which
contains the Hajaru ’l-Aswad, or black stone.—Hughes, Dict. of Islam, s.v. Kaʿbah. ↑
5 Sakatimuna (or “Sicatimuna”) is the name of an enormous serpent, said to have ravaged the
country of Menangkabau in Sumatra about the beginning of the 12th century.—Newbold, op. cit. vol.
ii. p. 199 n. It is also given as “Icktimani” by Leyden in his trans. of the Malay Annals. ↑

6 For the parting asunder of the snake, vide the note on page 11 infra, which gives what may be
the origin of this myth as it is known to the Malays. ↑

7 The Nagas are generally represented in old sculptures as bearing the human form, but with a
snake attached to their backs, and the hooded head rising behind their necks.—Nagananda, translated
by Palmer Boyd, p. 61; vide also ib. p. 84. This may be the explanation of the Malay k’ris hilt, or
dagger hilt, which represents a seated human form with folded arms and a hood at the back of its
neck rising over its head. These hilts are called hulu Malayu (the “Malay hilt”), or Jawa dĕmam (lit.
the “Fever-stricken Javanese”), in allusion to the attitude of the figure with its folded arms. The
pattern of these hilts, which are universally used for the national Malay k’ris or dagger, varies from
an accurate representation of the human figure to forms in which nothing but the hood (which is
occasionally much exaggerated) is recognisable. Europeans seeing these hilts for the first time
sometimes take them for snakes’ heads, sometimes for the heads of birds. ↑
8 Payah probably stands for supaya, perhaps with the meaning “so also.” Kun in Arabic means
“be.” The tree would appear to be identifiable (vide App. i., iii.) with that mentioned in the first
account. ↑
9 Sakais are certain of the non-Malayan heathen (i.e. not Muhammadan) inhabitants of the hills
and jungles of the Peninsula. ↑

10 Some say a bullock (lĕmbu), but the most usual version gives the buffalo. In the Ramayana,
which has largely influenced some departments of Malay folk-lore, it is an elephant which supports
the earth. So, too, Vishnu in the boar-incarnation raised the earth from the bottom of the sea upon his
tusks. ↑
11 This island (for which a tortoise or the fish “Nun” is occasionally substituted) may be compared
with the Batak (Sumatran) belief concerning the raft which was made by Batara Guru for the support
of the earth at the creation of the world (J.R.A.S., N. S. vol. xiii. part i. p. 60); and vide Klinkert’s
Malay-Dutch Dict., s.v. Nun. ↑

12 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 359. The spelling of “Jangi” is incorrect. It should be spelt
“Janggi.” ↑
13 This tree appears to be a tradition of the Cocos Maldiva, of which Sir H. Yule, s.v. Coco-de-Mer,
gives the following interesting account:—

“Coco-de-Mer, or Double Coco-nut, the curious twin fruit so called, the produce of the Lodoicea
Sechellarum, a palm growing only in the Seychelles Islands, is cast up on the shores of the Indian
Ocean, most frequently on the Maldive Islands, but occasionally also on Ceylon and S. India, and on
the coasts of Zanzibar, of Sumatra, and some others of the Malay Islands. Great virtues as medicine
and antidote were supposed to reside in these fruits, and extravagant prices were paid for them. The

story goes that a ‘country captain,’ expecting to make his fortune, took a cargo of these nuts from the
Seychelles Islands to Calcutta, but the only result was to destroy their value for the future.

“The old belief was that the fruit was produced on a palm growing below the sea, whose fronds,
according to Malay seamen, were sometimes seen in quiet bights on the Sumatran coast, especially in
the Lampong Bay. According to one form of the story among the Malays, which is told both by
Pigafetta and by Rumphius, there was but one such tree, the fronds of which rose above an abyss of
the Southern Ocean, and were the abode of the monstrous bird Garuda (or Rukh of the Arabs). The
tree itself was called Pau-sengi, which Rumphius seems to interpret as a corruption of Buwa-zangi,
‘Fruit of Zang,’ or E. Africa. They were cast up occasionally on the islands of the S.W. coast of
Sumatra; and the wild people of the islands brought them for sale to the Sumatran marts, such as
Padang and Priamang. One of the largest (say about twelve inches across) would sell for 150 rix
dollars. But the Malay princes coveted them greatly, and would sometimes (it was alleged) give a
laden junk for a single nut. In India the best-known source of supply was from the Maldive Islands.

“The medical virtues of the nut were not only famous among all the people of the East, including the
Chinese, but are extolled by Piso and by Rumphius, with many details. The latter, learned and
laborious student of nature as he was, believed in the submarine origin of the nut, though he
discredited its growing on a great palm, as no traces of such a plant had ever been discovered on the
coasts. The fame of the nut’s virtues had extended to Europe, and the Emperor Rudolf II. in his latter
days offered in vain 4000 florins to purchase from the family of Wolfert Hermanszen, a Dutch
Admiral, one which had been presented to that commander by the King of Bantam, on the
Hollander’s relieving his capital, attacked by the Portuguese in 1602.”—Hobson-Jobson, loc. cit.

To this valuable note I would add that Rumphius is evidently wrong if he derives the name of the
tree, “Pau-sengi,” from the Malay “Buwa-zangi.” The first part of the word is “Pau” or “Pauh,”
which is perfectly good Malay, and is the name given to various species of mango, especially the
wild one, so that “Pau-sengi” actually represents (not “Buwa,” but) “Pauh Janggi,” which is to this
day the universal Malay name for the tree which grows, according to Malay fable, in the central
whirlpool or Navel of the Seas. Some versions add that it grows upon a sunken bank (tĕbing runtoh),
and is guarded by dragons. This tree figures largely in Malay romances, especially those which form
the subject of Malay shadow-plays, (vide infra, Pl. 23, for an illustration of the Pauh Janggi and the
Crab). Rumphius’ explanation of the second part of the name (i.e. Janggi) is, no doubt, quite
correct. ↑
14 The following passage describes how a magic prince visited the Navel of the Seas:—

“Presently he arrived at his destination—the Navel of the Seas—(Pusat tasek). All the monsters of
the ocean, the whales and monster fishes, and colossal dragons (naga umbang), and the magic

dragons (naga sri naga ka-sak-tian), assembled together to eat and devour him, and such a tumult
arose that the Raja Naga, who was superior to all, heard it and came to see. Now when he beheld the
Golden Dragon he opened his jaws to their full extent, and made three attempts to seize and swallow
him, but failed each time. At length, however, he caught him, and dashed him against the sea bottom
with such force that his head was buried in the ground, but the little dragon cared not at all. Then the
Raja Naga said: ‘Tell me the truth! from what land hast thou fallen (titek dĕri pada nĕgri ninggua
mana), and whose son and offspring art thou?’ To which the Golden Dragon made answer, saying, ‘I
have no land nor country, I have neither father nor mother, but I was incarnated from the hollow part
of a bamboo!’ When the Raja Naga heard this he sent for his spectacles (chĕrmin mata), and by their
aid he was able to see the real parentage of the Golden Dragon and all concerning him, and he at
once told him everything concerning his birth (usul asal ka-jadi-an-nya), and informed him that they
were close relations, since the Golden Dragon’s mother was a relative of the Raja Naga. Then the
Raja Naga kissed and embraced his nephew, and congratulated himself on having seen him before his
time came to die, and calling together all his people to feast, installed (tabal) the Golden Dragon as
king over them in his own place, since he was very old. Thus the Golden Dragon continued to live in
increasing state and prosperity at the Pusat tasek, and was greatly beloved by his uncle, the Raja
Naga; and in the course of time his horn (chula) split up and was replaced by six other heads—
making seven in all.”—Hikayat Raja Budiman, part ii. pp. 7, 8. Publications of the S. B. of the Royal
Asiatic Society, No. 3. ↑

15 “The Malays give the names ‘Bah Jantan’ and ‘Bah Betina,’ viz. the ‘male’ and the ‘female’
floods, respectively to the first rising of a freshet, and to the flood which sometimes ensues after the
waters have partially subsided. The latter is generally supposed to be more serious than the
former.”—Cliff. and Swett., Mal. Dict. s.v. Bah.

“‘If this be the likeness of the male flood, what will that of the female be?’ ejaculated my head
boatman. In common with other Malays, he held the belief that floods, like other moving things, go
in couples. The first to come is the male, and when he has passed upon his way the female comes
after him, pursuing him hotly, according to the custom of the sex, and she is the more to be feared, as
she rushes more furiously than does her fleeing mate.”—Cliff., Stud. in Brown Humanity, p. 213. ↑
16 This neck of land was called “Pĕnarek Prahu,” or the “Place of the dragging (across) of
Boats.” ↑
17 “The belief (probably borrowed from the Hindoos) of a serpent devouring the sun or moon,
whenever they are eclipsed, and the weird lamentations of the people during the continuance of these
phenomena, are well known.”—Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 358. ↑

18 “During an eclipse they (the Malays) make a loud noise with sounding instruments to prevent
one luminary from devouring the other, as the Chinese, to frighten away the dragon.”—Marsden,
Hist. of Sum. p. 157. I have not yet met with the explanation given in this passage of Marsden’s work.

“Rahu, a daitya or demon who is supposed to seize the sun and moon, and thus cause eclipses
(according to the common myth he was a son of Vipra-ʿcitti and Sinhikā, and had four arms, his
lower part ending in a tail), he was the instigator of all mischief among the daityas, and when the
gods had produced the amrita or nectar from the churned ocean, he disguised himself like one of
them and drank a portion of it, but the sun and moon having detected his fraud and informed Vishnu,
the latter severed his head and two of his arms from the rest of his body; the portion of nectar he had
swallowed having secured his immortality, the head and tail were transferred to the stellar sphere, the
head wreaking its vengeance on the sun and moon by occasionally swallowing them for a time, while
the tail, under the name of Ketu, gave birth to a numerous progeny of comets and fiery meteors.”—
Monier Williams, Skt. Dict. s.v. Rahu. ↑
19 Gĕrhâna is from a Sanskr. word meaning “eclipse.” The name of the monster is Rahu. ↑

20 Clifford, Stud. in Brown Humanity, p. 50. For ceremonies to be observed during an eclipse,
more especially by women in travail, vide Birth Ceremonies (infra). ↑
21 “They (the Malays) observe in the moon an old man sitting under a bĕringin tree (the Banyan,
Ficus Indica).”—Maxwell, in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 27, In Sanskrit mythology the spots on the
moon are supposed to be caused by a hare or antelope, which being hard pressed by a hunter
appealed to the moon for protection, and was taken up by the moon into her arms. This is no doubt
the real explanation of the Malay phrase, “Bulan bunting pĕlandok” (“the moon is great with the
mouse-deer”), an expression often used when the moon is three-quarters full. ↑

22 “They tell of a man in the moon, who is continually employed in spinning cotton, but that every
night a rat gnaws his thread, and obliges him to begin his work afresh.”—Marsd., Hist. of Sum. p.
187. ↑
23 It is, however, also possible that there may be two “bujangs,” and that we have here a simple
case of what philologists call “confluence,” so that the derivation, though quite possible, must not be
accepted without reserve. ↑
24 Sanskrit tapasya. ↑
25 Maxwell, in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 28. ↑

26 In Selangor I have also heard “Ular minum,” “the snake drinks.” ↑

27 A Selangor Malay told me that the full phrase was “Ular Danu bĕrbantal,” “the snake Danu is
pillowed (in sleep).” ↑

28 A fuller expression is tunggul-tunggul mĕmbangun. A double rainbow is called palangi sa-
k’lamin.

Maxwell points out, in a note, that dhanuk, in Hindustani, means a bow, and is a common term in
India, among Hindus, for the rainbow. ↑

29 Maxwell, J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 21. ↑
30 So, too, midday, especially when a light rain is falling and the sun shining at one and the same
time, is usually regarded as equally dangerous. ↑

31 Maxwell, loc. cit. Vide infra, Chap. IV. pp. 92, 93. ↑

CHAPTER II

Man and his Place in the Universe

(a) Creation of Man

A common feature in Malay romances and legends is a description of the
supernatural development of a young child in the interior of some vegetable
production, usually a bamboo.

Sir W. E. Maxwell has pointed out the fact of the existence, both in Malay
and Japanese legends, of the main features of this story, to which he assigns
a Buddhistic origin. He tells the story as follows:—

“The Raja of the Bamboo.—Some years ago I collected a number of
legends current among Malayan tribes having as their principal incident the
supernatural development of a prince, princess, or demi-god in the stem of a
bamboo, or tree, or the interior of some closed receptacle.1 I omitted,
however, to mention that this very characteristic Malay myth occurs in the
“Sri Rama,” a Malay prose hikayat,2 which, as its name betokens, professes
to describe the adventures of the hero of the Râmâyana.

“Roorda van Eysinga’s edition of the Sri Rama opens with an account of
how Maharaja Dasaratha sent his Chief Mantri,3 Puspa Jaya Karma, to
search for a suitable place at which to found a settlement. The site having
been found and cleared, the narrative proceeds as follows:—

“‘Now there was a clump of the bĕtong4 bamboo (sa’rumpun buluh
bĕtong), the colour of which was like gold of ten touch (amas sapuloh
mutu), and its leaves like silver. All the trees which grew near bent in its
direction, and it looked like a state umbrella (payong manuwangi5). The

Mantri and people chopped at it, but as fast as they cut down a branch on
one side, a fresh one shot forth on the other, to the great astonishment of all
the Rajas, Mantris, and warriors. Puspa Vikrama Jaya hastened back to
King Dasaratha and laid the matter before him. The latter was greatly
surprised, and declared that he would go himself the next day and see the
bamboo cut down. Next day he set out on a white elephant, attended by a
splendid train of chiefs and followers, and on reaching the spot ordered the
bamboo clump to be cut down. Vikrama Puspa Jaya pointed it out, shaded
by the other forest trees. The king perceived that it was of very elegant
appearance, and that an odour like spices and musk proceeded from it. He
told Puspa Jaya Vikrama to cut it down, and the latter drew his sword,
which was as big as the stem of a cocoa-nut tree, and with one stroke cut
down one of the bamboos. But immediately a fresh stem shot forth on the
other side, and this happened as often as a stroke was given. Then the king
grew wroth, and getting down from his elephant he drew his own sword and
made a cut with it at the bamboo, which severed a stem. Then, by the divine
decree of the Dewatas, the king became aware of a female form in the
bamboo clump seated on a highly ornamented platform (gĕta), her face
shining like the full moon when it is fourteen days old, and the colour of her
body being like gold of ten touch. On this, King Dasaratha quickly
unloosed his girdle and saluted the princess. Then he lifted her on to his
elephant and took her to his palace escorted by music and singing.’”6

I myself have heard among the Selangor Malays similar legends to the
above, which, as already pointed out, are common in Malay romances. A
parallel myth is described in the following words:—

“Now, the Perak river overflows its banks once a year, and sometimes there
are very great floods. Soon after the marriage of Nakhodah Kasim with the
white Semang,7 an unprecedented flood occurred and quantities of foam
came down the river. Round the piles of the bathing-house, which, in
accordance with Malay custom, stood in the bed of the river close to the
bank in front of the house, the floating volumes of foam collected in a mass
the size of an elephant. Nakhodah Kasim’s wife went to bathe, and finding
this island of froth in her way she attempted to move it away with a stick;
she removed the upper portion of it and disclosed a female infant sitting in

the midst of it enveloped all round with cloud-like foam. The child showed
no fear, and the white Semang, carefully lifting her, carried her up to the
house, heralding her discovery by loud shouts to her husband. The couple
adopted the child willingly, for they had no children, and they treated her
thenceforward as their own. They assembled the villagers and gave them a
feast, solemnly announcing their adoption of the daughter of the river and
their intention of leaving to her everything that they possessed.

“The child was called Tan Puteh, but her father gave her the name of Teh
Purba.8 As she grew up the wealth of her foster-parents increased; the
village grew in extent and population, and gradually became an important
place.”9

The usual story of the first creation of man, however, appears to be a Malay
modification of Arabic beliefs.

Thus we are told that man was created from the four elements—earth, air,
water, and fire—in a way which the following extract, taken from a
Selangor charm-book, will explain:—

“God Almighty spake unto Gabriel, saying,
‘Be not disobedient, O Gabriel,
But go and get me the Heart of the Earth.’
But he could not get the Heart of the Earth.
‘I will not give it,’ said the Earth.
Then went the Prophet Israfel to get it,
But he could not get the Heart of the Earth.
Then went Michael to get it,
But he could not get the Heart of the Earth.
Then went Azrael to get it,
And at last he got the Heart of the Earth.
When he got the Heart of the Earth
The empyrean and crystalline spheres shook,
And the whole Universe (shook).
When he got the Heart of the Earth he10 made from it the Image of Adam.
But the Heart of the Earth was then too hard;

He mixed Water with it, and it became too soft,
(So) he mixed Fire with it, and at last struck out the image of Adam.
Then he raised up the image of Adam,
And craved Life for it from Almighty God,
And God Almighty gave it Life.
Then sneezed God Almighty, and the image of Adam brake in pieces,
And he (Azrael) returned to remake the image of Adam.
Then God Almighty commanded to take steel of Khorassan,
And drive it down his back, so that it became the thirty-three bones,
The harder steel at the top, the softer below it.
The harder steel shot up skywards,
And the softer steel penetrated earthwards.
Thus the image of Adam had life, and dwelt in Paradise.
(There) Adam beheld (two ?) peacocks of no ordinary beauty,
And the Angel Gabriel appeared.
‘Verily, O Angel Gabriel, I am solitary,
Easier is it to live in pairs, I crave a wife.’
God Almighty spake, saying, ‘Command Adam
To pray at dawn a prayer of two genuflexions.’
Then Adam prayed, and our Lady Eve descended,
And was captured by the Prophet Adam;
But before he had finished his prayer she was taken back,
Therefore Adam prayed the prayer of two genuflexions as desired,
And at the last obtained our Lady Eve.
When they were married (Eve) bore twins every time,
Until she had borne forty-four children,
And the children, too, were wedded, handsome with handsome, and plain
with plain.”

The magician who dictated the above account stated that when Azrael
stretched forth his hand to take the Heart of the Earth, the Earth-spirit
caught hold of his middle finger, which yielded to the strain, and thus
became longer than the rest, and received its Malay name of the “Devil’s
Finger” (jari hantu).

A parallel account adds that the Heart of the Earth was white, and gives a
fuller description of the interview between Azrael and his formidable
antagonist, the Earth. After saluting the latter in the orthodox Muhammadan
fashion, Azrael explains his mission, and is met by a point-blank refusal. “I
will not give it,” said the Earth (referring to its Heart), “forasmuch as I was
so created by God Almighty, and if you take away my Heart I shall
assuredly die.” At this brusque, though perhaps natural retort, the archangel
loses his temper, and rudely exclaims that he “will take the Earth’s Heart
whether it will or no.” Here Azrael “gave the Earth a push with his right
hand and his left, and grasping at the Heart of the Earth, got hold of it and
carried it back to the presence of God.” God now summons Gabriel and
orders him to mould (lit. forge) the image of Adam. Then Gabriel took the
lump of earth which was the Earth’s Heart and mixed it first with water to
soften it, then, as it was too soft, with fire to harden it, and when the image
was made, obtained life from God to put into it.11 [The breaking of the first
image which was made, and the making of the second, are here omitted].
Finally, the creation of “our Lady” Eve and the birth of her first-born are
described, the latter occasion being accompanied by a thick darkness, which
compelled Adam to take off his turban and beat the child therewith in order
to dispel the evil influences (badi) which had attended its birth.12

The following extract (from a Malay treatise quoted by Newbold) fairly
describes the general state of Malay ideas respecting the constitution of the
human body:—

“Plato, Socrates, Galen, Aristotle, and other philosophers affirm that God
created man of a fixed number of bones, blood-vessels, etc. For instance,
the skull is composed of 5½ bones, the place of smell and sense of 7 bones,
between this and the neck are 32 bones. The neck is composed of 7 bones,
and the back of 24 bones; 208 bones are contained in the other members of
the body. In all there are 360 bones and 360 blood-vessels in a man’s body.
The brains weigh 306 miscals, the blood 573. The total of all the bones,
blood-vessels, large and small, and gristles, amounts to 1093; and the hairs
of the head to six lacs and 4000. The frame of man is divided into 40 great
parts, which are again subdivided. Four elements enter into his composition,
viz. air, fire, earth, and water. With these elements are connected four

essences—the soul or spirit with air, love with fire, concupiscence with
earth, and wisdom with water.”13

(b) Sanctity of the Body

In dealing with this branch of the subject I will first take the case of the
kings and priestly magicians who present the most clearly-marked examples
of personal sanctity which are now to be found among Malays, and will
then describe the chief features of the sanctity ascribed to all ranks alike in
respect of certain special parts of the ordinary human anatomy. The theory
of the king as the Divine Man is held perhaps as strongly in the Malay
region as in any other part of the world, a fact which is strikingly
emphasised by the alleged right of Malay monarchs “to slay at pleasure,
without being guilty of a crime.” Not only is the king’s person considered
sacred, but the sanctity of his body is believed to communicate itself to his
regalia, and to slay those who break the royal taboos. Thus it is firmly
believed that any one who seriously offends the royal person, who touches
(even for a moment) or who imitates (even with the king’s permission) the
chief objects of the regalia,14 or who wrongfully makes use of any of the
insignia or privileges of royalty, will be kĕna daulat, i.e. struck dead, by a
quasi-electric discharge of that Divine Power which the Malays suppose to
reside in the king’s person,15 and which is called “Daulat” or “Royal
Sanctity.” Before I proceed, however, to discuss this power, it will be best
to give some description of the regalia in which it resides:—

Of Malacca Newbold says: “The articles of Malay regalia usually consist of
a silasila, or book of genealogical descent, a code of laws, a vest or baju,
and a few weapons, generally a kris, kleywang, or spear.”16

“The limbing is a sort of lance; the tombak bandrang a spear of state, four
or seven of which are usually carried before the chiefs in the interior of the
Peninsula. The handle is covered with a substance flowing from it like a

horse-tail, dyed crimson, sometimes crimson and white; this is generally of
hair.”17

So in Leyden’s translation of the Malay Annals (1821) we read—

“My name is Bichitram Shah, who am raja.... This is the sword, Chora sa
mendang kian (i.e. mandakini), and that is the lance, Limbuar (i.e.
limbuara); this is the signet, Cayu Gampit, which is employed in
correspondence with rajas.”18

“The Chora sa medang kian (i.e. mandakini) is the celebrated sword with
which Peramas Cumunbang killed the enormous serpent Sicatimuna, which
ravaged the country of Menangkabowe about the beginning of the twelfth
century.”19

Of the Perak regalia we read: “Tan Saban was commanded by his mistress
to open negotiations with Johor, and this having been done, a prince of the
royal house of that kingdom, who traced his descent from the old line of
Menangkabau, sailed for Perak to assume the sovereignty. He brought with
him the insignia of royalty, namely, the royal drums (gandang nobat), the
pipes (nafiri), the flutes (sarunei and bangsi), the betel-box (puan naga
taru), the sword (chora mandakini), the sword (perbujang), the sceptre
(kayu gamit), the jewel (kamala), the surat chiri, the seal of state (chap
halilintar), and the umbrella (ubar-ubar). All these were enclosed in a box
called Baninan.”20

In Selangor the regalia consisted of the royal instruments of music—(the
big State Drum or naubat, beaten at the king’s coronation; the two small
State Drums (gĕndang); the two State Kettle-drums (langkara); the lĕmpiri
or State Trumpet, and the sĕrunei or State Flute—to which perhaps a bangsi
should be added, as in the Perak list)—which were seldom, if ever, moved,
and the following articles which were carried in procession on state
occasions:21—

1. The royal Betel-box.
2. The Long K’ris—a kind of rapier used for Malay executions.

3. The two royal Swords; one on the right hand and one on the left (all
of the articles mentioned hitherto being carried in front of the Sultan).
4. The royal “Fringed” Umbrella (payong ubor-ubor), carried behind
the right-hand sword-bearer.
5. The royal “Cuspadore,” carried behind the left-hand sword-bearer.
6. The royal Tobacco-box, carried at the Sultan’s back.
7. The eight royal tufted Lances (tombak bĕndrang or bandangan),
whose bearers were followed by two personal attendants, the latter of
whom attended, besides, to anything that was broken or damaged; so
that the procession numbered seventeen persons in all.22

Of the Pahang regalia I have not been able to obtain a list with any
pretensions to completeness, but from a remark by Mr. Clifford (the present
Resident) in one of his books, they would appear to be essentially the same
as those of the other Federated States.23

A list of the Jĕlĕbu regalia (given me by Ungku Said Kĕchil of Jĕlĕbu) ran
as follows:—

1. A single-bladed Sword (pĕdang pĕmanchor).
2. The Long K’ris (k’ris panjang, pĕnyalang), used for executions.
3. The royal Lances (tombak bĕndrang).
4. The royal Umbrella (payong kabĕsaran).
5. The royal Standard and Pennants (tunggul ular-ular).
6. The royal Ceiling-cloth and Hangings (tabir, langit-langit
dewangga).
7. The “Moving Mountains” (gunong dua bĕrangkat), perhaps the
names of two peaked pillows.
8. The royal Drums (gĕndang naubat); said to be “headed” with the
skins of lice (kulit tuma) and to emit a single chord of twelve tones
when struck (dua-b’las bunyi sakali di-pukol).

9. The royal Trumpet
(lĕmpiri or nĕmpiri).
Each of these was also said to emit a
10. The royal Gong.
single chord of twelve notes.
11. The royal Guitar
(kĕchapi).
12. The royal rĕbab or Malay fiddle.

This latter peculiarity (of the multiplication of notes) is quite in accordance
with the traditions of the king’s musical instruments in Malay romances.
Thus of Raja Donan’s magic flute we are told, “The first time (that he
sounded it), the flute gave forth the sounds of twelve instruments, the
second time it played as if twenty-four instruments were being sounded,
and the third time it played like thirty-six different instruments.” No wonder
we are told that “the Princesses Che Ambong and Che Muda dissolved in
tears, and the music had to be stopped.”24

My informant declared that these objects came into existence of themselves
(tĕrjali sĕndiri), at a spot between the two peaks of a burning mountain
(gunong mĕrapi) in the country of Menangkabau in Sumatra. He also
averred that “rain could not rot them nor sun blister them,” and that any one
who “brushed past them” (di-lintas) would fall to the ground;25 whilst no
fewer than seven buffaloes have to be slaughtered before the “moving
mountains” (when worn out) can be replaced.26

An enumeration of the writer’s regalia often forms an important part of a
letter from one Malay sovereign to another, more especially when the writer
wishes to emphasise his importance.27

But the extraordinary strength of the Malay belief in the supernatural
powers of the regalia of their sovereigns can only be thoroughly realised
after a study of their romances, in which their kings are credited with all the
attributes of inferior gods, whose birth, as indeed every subsequent act of
their after life, is attended by the most amazing prodigies.

They are usually invulnerable, and are gifted with miraculous powers, such
as that of transforming themselves, and of returning to (or recalling others
to) life; in fact they have, in every way, less of the man about them and
more of the god. Thus it is that the following description of the dress of an
old-time Raja falls easily into line with what would otherwise appear the
objectless jargon which still constitutes the preamble of many a Malay
prince’s letters, but which can yet be hardly regarded as mere rhetoric, since
it has a deep meaning for those who read it:—

“He wore the trousers called bĕraduwanggi, miraculously made without
letting in pieces; hundreds of mirrors encircled his waist, thousands
encircled his legs, they were sprinkled all about his body, and larger ones
followed the seams.”

Then his waistband (kain ikat pinggang) was of “flowered cloth, twenty-
five cubits in length, or thirty if the fringe be included; thrice a day did it
change its colours—in the morning transparent as dew, at mid-day of the
colour of lembayong,28 and in the evening of the hue of oil.”

Next came his coat. It was “of reddish purple velvet, thrice brilliant the
lustre of its surface, seven times powerful the strength of the dye; the dyer
after making it sailed the world for three years, but the dye still clung to the
palms of his hands.”

His dagger was “a straight blade of one piece which spontaneously screwed
itself into the haft. The grooves, called rĕtak mayat,29 started from the base
of the blade, the damask called pamur janji appeared half-way up, and the
damask called lam jilallah at the point; the damask alif was there parallel
with the edge, and where the damasking ended the steel was white. No
ordinary metal was the steel, it was what was over after making the bolt of
God’s Ka’abah (at Meccah). It had been forged by the son of God’s prophet,
Adam, smelted in the palm of his hand, fashioned with the end of his finger,
and coloured with the juice of flowers in a Chinese furnace. Its deadly
qualities came down to it from the sky, and if cleaned (with acid) at the
source of a river, the fish at the embouchure came floating up dead.

“The sword that he wore was called lang pĕngonggong,30 ‘the successful
swooper,’ lit. the ‘kite carrying off its prey.’

“The next article described is his turban, which, among the Malays, is a
square handkerchief folded and knotted round the head.”

“He next took his royal handkerchief, knotting it so that it stood up with the
ends projecting; one of them he called dĕndam ta’ sudah (endless love): it
was purposely unfinished; if it were finished the end of the world would
come. It had been woven in no ordinary way, but had been the work of his
mother from her youth. Wearing it he was provided with all the love-
compelling secrets. (The names of a number of charms to excite passion are
given, but they cannot be explained in the compass of a note).”31

He wore the Malay national garment—the sarong. It was “a robe of muslin
of the finest kind; no ordinary weaving had produced it; it had been woven
in a jar in the middle of the ocean by people with gills, relieved by others
with beaks; no sooner was it finished than the maker was put to death, so
that no one might be able to make one like it. It was not of the fashion of
the clothing of the rajas of the present day, but of those of olden time. If it
were put in the sun it got damper, if it were soaked in water it became drier.
A slight tear mended by darning only increased its value, instead of
lessening it, for the thread for the purpose cost one hundred dollars. A single
dewdrop dropping on it would tangle the thread for a cubit’s length, while
the breath of the south wind would disentangle it.”

Finally, we get a description of the way in which the Raja (S’ri Rama) set
out upon his journey.

“He adopted the art called sedang budiman, the young snake writhed at his
feet (i.e. he started at mid-day when his own shadow was round his feet), a
young eagle was flying against the wind overhead; he took a step forward
and then two backward, one forward as a sign that he was leaving his
country, and two backward as a sign that he would return; as he took a step
with the right foot, loud clanked his accoutrements32 on his left; as he put
forth the left foot a similar clank was heard on his right; he advanced,

swelling out his broad chest, and letting drop his slender fingers, adopting
the gait called ‘planting beans,’ and then the step called ‘sowing
spinach.’”33

In addition to the sanctity of the regalia, the king, as the divine man,
possesses an infinite multitude of prerogatives which enter into almost
every act of his private life, and thus completely separate him from the
generality of his fellow-men.

These prerogatives are too numerous to be mentioned in detail, but the
following extract from Leyden’s translation of the “Malay Annals” will give
a general idea of their character and extent:—

“Sultan Muhammed Shah again established in order the throne of his
sovereignty. He was the first who prohibited the wearing of yellow clothes
in public, not even a handkerchief of that colour, nor curtains, nor hangings,
nor large pillow-cases, nor coverlets, nor any envelope of any bundle, nor
the cloth lining of a house, excepting only the waist cloth, the coat, and the
turban. He also prohibited the constructing of houses with abutments, or
smaller houses connected with them; also suspended pillars or timbers
(tiang gantong); nor timbers the tops of which project above the roofs, and
also summer houses.34 He also prohibited the ornamenting of creeses with
gold, and the wearing anklets of gold, and the wearing the koronchong, or
hollow bracelets (anklets?) of gold, ornamented with silver. None of these
prohibited articles did he permit to be worn by a person, however rich he
might be, unless by his particular licence, a privilege which the raja has
ever since possessed. He also forbade any one to enter the palace unless
wearing a cloth petticoat35 of decent length, with his creese in front;36 and a
shoulder-cloth; and no person was permitted to enter unless in this array,
and if any one wore his creese behind him, it was incumbent on the porter
of the gate to seize it. Such is the order of former time respecting
prohibition by the Malayu rajas, and whatever is contrary to this is a
transgression against the raja, and ought to incur a fine of five cati. The
white umbrella, which is superior to the yellow one, because it is seen
conspicuous at a greater distance, was also confined to the raja’s person,37
while the yellow umbrella was confined to his family.”38

A number of other particulars bearing on this subject will be found in other
parts of the text, and in the Appendix references are given to other works
for additional details, which are too numerous to be recorded here.

“At funerals, whether the deceased has been a great or insignificant person,
if he be a subject, the use of the Payong (umbrella) and the Puwadi is
interdicted, as also the distribution of alms, unless by royal permission;
otherwise the articles thus forbidden will be confiscated.” “Puwadi is the
ceremony of spreading a cloth, generally a white one, for funeral and other
processions to walk upon. Should the deceased be of high rank, the cloth
extends from the house where the corpse is deposited, to the burial-
ground.”39

Similar prohibitions are still in force at the courts of the Malay Sultans in
the Peninsula, though a yellow umbrella is now generally substituted for the
white, at least in Selangor.

A distinction is also now drawn between manufactured yellow cloth and
cloth which has been dyed yellow with saffron, the wrongful use of the
latter (the genuine article) being regarded as the more especially heinous
act.

In addition to the royal monopoly of such objects as have been mentioned,
Sir W. E. Maxwell mentions three royal perquisites (larangan raja), i.e.
river turtles (tuntong) (by which he no doubt means their eggs); elephants
(by which he doubtless means elephants’ tusks);40 and the fruit of the
“kĕtiar” from which oil is made by the Perak Malays. He adds, “It used to
be a capital offence to give false information to the Raja about any of these.
The ‘kĕtiar’ tree is said to affect certain localities, and is found in groves
not mixed with other trees. In former days, when the fruit was ripe, the
whole of the Raja’s household would turn out to gather it. It is said to yield
a very large percentage of oil.”41

The only tree in Ridley’s list42 whose name at all resembles the “kĕtiar” is
the katiak, which is identified as Acronychia Porteri, Wall (Rutaceæ).

A description of the gathering of the eggs of river turtles by the royal party
in Perak will be found in Malay Sketches.43

Besides the above there are not a few linguistic taboos connected with the
king’s person, such as the use of the words santap, to eat; bĕradu, to sleep;
bĕrsĕmaiam, to be seated, or to “reside” in a certain place; bĕrangkat, to
“progress”; siram, to bathe; g’ring, to be sick; and mangkat, to die; all of
which words are specially substituted for the ordinary Malay words when
reference is made to the king.44 Moreover, when the king dies his name is
dropped, and he receives the title of “Marhum,” the late or “deceased,” with
the addition of an expression alluding to some prominent fact in his life, or
occasionally to the place of his decease. These titles, strange as it may
seem, are often the reverse of complimentary, and occasionally ridiculous.45

It must not be forgotten, too, in discussing the divine attributes of the Malay
king, that he is firmly believed to possess a personal influence over the
works of nature, such as the growth of the crops and the bearing of fruit-
trees. This same property is supposed to reside in a lesser degree in his
delegates, and even in the persons of Europeans in charge of districts. Thus
I have frequently known (in Selangor) the success or failure of the rice
crops attributed to a change of district officers, and in one case I even heard
an outbreak of ferocity which occurred among man-eating crocodiles laid at
the door of a most zealous and able, though perhaps occasionally somewhat
unsympathetic, representative of the Government. So, too, on one occasion
when three deaths occurred during a District Officer’s temporary absence,
the mere fact of his absence was considered significant. I may add that
royal blood is supposed by many Malays to be white, and this is the pivot
on which the plot of not a few Malay folk-tales is made to turn.46

Finally, it must be pointed out that the greatest possible importance is
attached to the method of saluting the king.

In the “Sri Rama” (the Malay Ramayana) we read, even of the chiefs, that—

“While yet some way off they bowed to the dust,
When they got near they made obeisance,

Uplifting at each step their fingers ten,
The hands closed together like the rootlets of the bakong palm47
The fingers one on the other like a pile of sirih47 leaves.”48

Equals in rank when saluting one another touch49 (though they do not
shake) each other’s hands, but a person of humble birth must not touch
hands in saluting a great chief. “A man, named Imam Bakar, was once slain
at Pasir Tambang, at the mouth of the Tĕmbĕling river. He incautiously
touched hands in greeting with a Chief called To’ Gajah, and the latter,
seizing him in an iron grip, held him fast, while he was stabbed to death
with spears.”50

In saluting a great Chief, like the Dato’ Maharaja Pĕrba Jĕlai, the hands are
“lifted up in salutation with the palms pressed together, as in the attitude of
Christian prayer, but the tips of the thumbs are not suffered to ascend
beyond the base of the chin. In saluting a real Râja, the hands are carried
higher and higher, according to the prince’s rank, until, for the Sultân, the
tips of the thumbs are on a level with the forehead. Little details such as
these are of immense importance in the eyes of the Malays, and not without
reason, seeing that in an Independent Native State many a man has come by
his death for carelessness in their observance.”51

In the king’s audience hall the formal salutations are performed in a sitting
posture, and in this case, too, the greatest attention is paid to the height to
which the hands are raised. The chief twice makes salutation in a sitting
posture as he advances, and at the third advance bends over the Sultan’s
hands, two more salutations being made on his way back to his place.

A flagrant infringement of any of the prerogatives of the Sultan, such as
those I have described, is certain, it is thought, to prove fatal, more or less
immediately.

Thus the death of Pĕnghulu Mohit, a well-known Malay headman of the
Klang district, in Selangor, which took place while I was in charge of that
district, was at the time very generally attributed by the local Malays to his
usurpation of certain royal privileges or prerogatives on the occasion of his

daughter’s wedding. One of these was his acceptance of gift-buffaloes,
decorated after the royal fashion, which were presented to him as wedding
gifts in his daughter’s honour. These buffaloes had a covering of cloth put
over them, their horns covered, and a crescent-shaped breast-ornament
(dokoh) hung about their necks. Thus dressed they were taken to Mohit’s
house in solemn procession.52 It was, at the time, considered significant that
the very first of these gift-buffaloes, which had been brought overland from
Jugra, where the Sultan lived, had died on arrival, and whatever the cause
may have been, it is a fact that Mohit’s mother died a day or two after the
conclusion of the wedding ceremonies, and that Mohit himself was taken ill
almost immediately and died only about a fortnight later.

The only person who, in former days, was not in the least affected by the
royal taboos which protected the regalia from the common touch was the
(now I believe extinct) official who held the post of Court Physician
(Maharaja Lela). He, and he alone, might go freely in the royal apartments
wherever he chose, and the immunity and freedom which he enjoyed in this
respect passed into a proverb, the expression “to act the Court Physician”
(buat Maharaja Lela) being used to describe an altogether unwarrantable
familiarity or impertinence.

The following story (though I tell it against myself) is perhaps the best
illustration I can give of the great danger supposed to be incurred by those
who meddle with the paraphernalia of royalty. Among the late Sultan’s
insignia of royalty (in 1897) were a couple of drums (gĕndang) and the long
silver trumpet which I have already described. Such trumpets are found
among the kabĕsaran or regalia of most Malay States, and are always, I
believe, called lĕmpiri or nĕmpiri (Pers. nafiri). They are considered so
sacred that they can only be handled or sounded, it is believed, by a tribe of
Malays called “Orang Kalau,” or the “Kalau men,”53 as any one else who
attempted to sound them would be struck dead. Even the “Orang Kalau,”
moreover, can only sound this instrument at the proper time and season
(e.g. at the proclamation of a new sovereign), for if they were to sound it at
any other time its noise would slay all who heard it, since it is the chosen
habitation of the “Jin Karaja’an” or State Demon,54 whose delight it would
be, if wrongfully disturbed, to slay and spare not.55

Plate 1.—Some of the Selangor Regalia.

Models, representing part of the regalia of H.H. the Sultan of Selangor—two small drums, the
tufted (cowtail) lances, the trident, the k’ris (dagger) called B’rok Bĕrayun, and the sacred
trumpet (lĕmpiri).

Page 40.

This trumpet and the drums of the Selangor regalia were kept by the present
Sultan (then Raja Muda, or Crown Prince of Selangor) in a small galvanised
iron cupboard which stood (upon posts about three feet high) in the middle
of a lawn outside His Highness’ “garden residence” at Bandar. His Highness
himself informed me that they had once been kept in the house itself, but
when there they were the source of infinite annoyance and anxiety to the
inmates on account of their very uncanny behaviour!

Drops of perspiration, for instance, would form upon the Trumpet when a
leading member of the Royal House was about to die (this actually
happened, as I was told, at Langat just before the death of Tungku ’Chik,

the late Sultan’s eldest daughter, who died during my residence in the
neighbourhood). Then one Raja Bakar, son of a Raja ʿAli, during the
rethatching of the house at Bandar, accidentally trod upon the wooden
barrel of one of the State Drums—and died in consequence of his
inadvertence. When, therefore, a hornet’s nest formed inside one of these
same drums it was pretty clear that things were going from bad to worse,
and a Chinaman was ordered to remove it, no Malay having been found
willing to risk his life in undertaking so dangerous an office—an
unwillingness which was presently justified, as the Chinaman, too, after a
few days’ interval, swelled up and died. Both these strange coincidences
were readily confirmed by the present Sultan on an occasion when I
happened to question the authenticity of the story, and as His Highness is
one of the most enlightened and truthful of men, such confirmation cannot
easily be set aside. But the strangest coincidence of all was to follow, for
not long afterwards, having never seen that portion of the regalia which was
in the Raja Muda’s charge, I happened to mention to a Malay friend of mine
at Jugra my wish to be allowed to examine these objects, and was at once
begged not to touch them, on the ground that “no one could say what might
follow.” But shortly after, having occasion to visit the Raja Muda at his
house at Bandar, I took the opportunity of asking whether there was any
objection to my seeing these much debated objects, and as His Highness not
only very obligingly assented, but offered to show them to me himself, I
was able both to see and to handle them, His Highness himself taking the
Trumpet out of its yellow case and handing it to me. I thought nothing more
of the matter at the time, but, by what was really a very curious
coincidence, within a few days’ time of the occurrence, was seized with a
sharp attack of malarial influenza, the result of which was that I was
obliged to leave the district, and go into hospital at headquarters. In a Malay
village news spreads quickly, and the report of my indisposition, after what
was no doubt regarded as an act of extraordinary rashness, appears to have
made a profound impression, and the result of it was that a Malay who
probably considered himself indebted to me for some assistance he had
received, bound himself by a vow to offer sacrifice at the shrine of a famous
local saint should I be permitted to return to the district. Of this, however, I
knew nothing at the time, and nothing could have exceeded my
astonishment when I found upon my return that it was my duty to attend the

banquet which took place at the saint’s tomb in honour of my own
recovery!56

Having shown the wide gulf which divides the “divine man” from his
fellows, I have still to point out the extent to which certain portions of the
human frame have come to be invested with sanctity, and to require to be
treated with special ceremonies. These parts of the anatomy are, in
particular, the head, the hair, the teeth, the ears, and the nails, all of which I
will take in their order.

The head, in the first place, is undoubtedly still considered by the Malays to
possess some modified degree of sanctity. A proof of this is the custom
(ʿadat) which regulates the extent of the sacrifice to be offered in a case of
assault or battery by the party committing the injury. If any part of the head
is injured, nothing less than a goat will suffice (the animal being killed and
both parties bathed in the blood); if the upper part of the body, the slaughter
of a cock (to be disposed of in a similar way) will be held to be sufficient
reparation, and so on, the sacrifice becoming of less value in proportion as
the injured part is farther from the head. So, too, Mr. Frazer writes: “The ...
superstition (of the sanctity of the head) exists among the Malays; for an
early traveller reports that in Java people ‘wear nothing on their heads, and
say that nothing must be on their heads, ... and if any person were to put his
hand upon their head they would kill him; and they do not build houses
with stories in order that they may not walk over each other’s heads.’ It is
also found in full force throughout Polynesia.”57

From the principle of the sanctity of the head flows, no doubt, the necessity
of using the greatest circumspection during the process of cutting the hair.58
Sometimes throughout the whole life of the wearer, and frequently during
special periods, the hair is left uncut. Thus I was told that in former days
Malay men usually wore their hair long, and I myself have seen an instance
of this at Jugra in Selangor in the person of a Malay59 of the old school,
who was locally famous on this account. So, too, during the forty days
which must elapse before the purification of a woman after the birth of her
child, the father of the child is forbidden to cut his hair, and a similar
abstention is said to have been formerly incumbent upon all persons either

prosecuting a journey or engaging in war. Often a boy’s head is entirely
shaven shortly after birth with the exception of a single lock in the centre of
the head, and so maintained until the boy begins to grow up, but frequently
the operation is postponed (generally, it is said, in consequence of a vow
made by the child’s parents) until the period of puberty or marriage. Great
care, too, must be exercised in disposing of the clippings of hair (more
especially the first clippings), as the Malay profoundly believes that “the
sympathetic connection which exists between himself and every part of his
body continues to exist even after the physical connection has been severed,
and that therefore he will suffer from any harm that may befall the severed
parts of his body, such as the clippings of his hair or the parings of his nails.
Accordingly he takes care that those severed portions of himself shall not
be left in places where they might either be exposed to accidental injury, or
fall into the hands of malicious persons who might work magic on them to
his detriment or death.”60

Thus we invariably find clippings of the victim’s hair mentioned (together
with parings of his nails, etc.) as forming part of the ingredients of the well-
known wax image or mannikin into which pins are stuck, and which is still
believed by all Malays to be a most effective method of causing the illness
or death of an enemy.61 I was once present at the curious ceremony of
cutting the hair of a Malay bride, which had all the characteristics of a
religious rite, but the detailed account of it will be reserved for a later
chapter.62

The same difficulties and dangers which beset the first cutting of the hair
apply, though perhaps in a less degree, to the first paring of the nails
(bĕrtobak), the boring of the ears of girls (bĕrtindek tĕlinga), and the filing
of the teeth (bĕrasah gigi) of either sex whether at puberty or marriage. One
or more of the nails are frequently worn long by Malays of standing, and
the women who engage in “nautch” dancing and theatrical performances
invariably wear a complete set of artificial nails (changgei). These latter are
usually of brass, are often several inches in length, and are made so as to fit
on to the tips of the fingers. Occasionally a brass ring with a small peacock,
or some such bird, of the same material will be attached to the end of the
nail by a minute brass chain. The practice of wearing long nails is

sometimes attributed to Chinese influence, but it is hard to see why this
particular detail of Malay custom, which is quite in keeping with the
general trend of Malay ideas about the person, should be supposed to be
derived from China. The borrowing, if any, is much more likely to have
been on the part of the Chinese, who undoubtedly imported many Indian
ideas along with Buddhism. The custom appears to be followed, moreover,
in many places, such as the interior of Sumatra, where Chinese influence is
non-existent. In Siam, again, it appears to obtain very strongly;63 but no
reason has yet been shown for supposing that this is anything but an
instance of the similarity of results independently arrived at by nations
starting with similar premisses.

The ear-boring and tooth-filing ceremonies which still not infrequently take
place at the age of puberty in both sexes are of no less religious import than
the rite of cutting the first lock. The main details of these ceremonies will
be described in a later part of this book.64

To the same category (of sacred things having physical connection with the
body) should doubtless be referred such objects as the eyebrows, the saliva,
and soil taken from the (naked) footstep, all of which are utilised by the
magician to achieve his nefarious ends.

(c) The Soul

The Malay conception of the Human Soul (Sĕmangat)65 is that of a species
of “Thumbling,” “a thin, unsubstantial human image,” or mannikin, which
is temporarily absent from the body in sleep, trance, disease, and
permanently absent after death.

This mannikin, which is usually invisible but is supposed to be about as big
as the thumb, corresponds exactly in shape, proportion, and even in
complexion, to its embodiment or casing (sarong), i.e. the body in which it
has its residence. It is of a “vapoury, shadowy, or filmy” essence, though

not so impalpable but that it may cause displacement on entering a physical
object, and as it can “fly” or “flash” quickly from place to place, it is often,
perhaps metaphorically, addressed as if it were a bird.66

Thus in a charm given in the Appendix we find—

“Hither, Soul, come hither!
Hither, Little One, come hither!
Hither, Bird, come hither!
Hither, Filmy One, come hither!”67

As this mannikin is the exact reproduction in every way of its bodily
counterpart, and is “the cause of life and thought in the individual it
animates,” it may readily be endowed with quasi-human feelings, and
“independently possess the personal consciousness and volition of its
corporeal owner.” Thus we find the following appeal addressed to the soul
in the charm just quoted:—

“Do not bear grudges,
Do not bear malice,
Do not take it as a wrong,
Do not take it as a transgression.”

These quasi-human attributes of the soul being so complete, it is an easy
stretch of the imagination to provide it with a house, which is generally in
practice identified with the body of its owner, but may also be identified
with any one of its temporary domiciles. Thus in the charm already quoted
we read—

“Return to your own House and House-ladder,
To your own House-floor, of which the planks have started,
And your Roof-thatch ‘starred’ with holes.”

The state of disrepair into which the soul’s house (i.e. the sick man’s body)
is described as having fallen, is here attributed to the soul’s absence.68 The
completeness of this figurative identification of the soul’s “house” with its

owner’s body, and of the soul’s “sheath” or casing with both, is very clearly
brought out in the following lines:—

“Cluck! cluck! Soul of this sick man, So-and-so!
Return into the Frame and Body of So-and-so,
To your own House and House-ladder, to your own Clearing and Yard,
To your own Parents, to your own Casing.”

And this is no mere chance expression, for in another charm the soul is
adjured in these words:—

“As you remember your own parents, remember me,
As you remember your own House and House-ladder, remember me.”69

The soul “appears to men (both waking and asleep) as a phantom separate
from the body of which it bears the likeness,” “manifests physical power,”
and walks, sits, and sleeps:—

“Cluck! cluck! Soul of So-and-so, come and walk with me,
Come and sit with me,
Come and sleep with me, and share my pillow.”70

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 sĕmangat), or to abduct the soul of a person whom you may
wish to get into your power (mĕngambil sĕmangat 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.71

Every man is supposed (it would appear from Malay charms) to possess
seven souls72 in all, or, perhaps, I should more accurately say, a sevenfold
soul.73 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-abduction74), 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.75

And, finally, it might explain why the lime-branch which is hung up in the
mosquito-curtain (in another form of soul-abduction76) 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 ceremony77 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.78

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.79

(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.80 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.81

“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.”82

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,83 animals84 and birds,85
vegetation86 (trees and plants), reptiles and fishes,87 until its extension to
inert objects, such as minerals,88 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.89 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;90 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 Mĕgat 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 Mĕgat 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.”

1 Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, N.S. vol. xiii. part iv. Cp. also the note to page 8 supra, in
which the Golden Dragon is made to say, “I have neither father nor mother, but I was incarnated from
the hollow part of a bamboo.” See also J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, p. 91. ↑
2 Hikayat; i.e. “romance.” ↑

3 Mantri; i.e. “Minister of State.” ↑
4 Bĕtong; i.e. “big.” ↑

5 Manuwangi; perhaps a mistake for manuwanggi, cp. bĕraduwanggi, infra. ↑
6 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17. Notes and Queries, No. 4, sec. 94. ↑

7 Sĕmangs are aboriginal non-Muhammadan inhabitants of the interior of the Peninsula. Their
type approximates to that of the Negritos of the Andaman Islands and the Philippines, but the one
referred to in this legend had white blood, which is considered by Malays to be the royal colour. ↑

8 Teh, short for Puteh, “white”; Pûrba, or Pûrva, Sanskrit “first.” This name is also given to the
first Malay Raja in the Sajarah Malayu. ↑
9 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, pp. 90, 91. For a similar story vide Leyden’s Malay Annals, p. 29: “It
happened on a certain day that the river of Palembang brought down a foam-bell of uncommon size,
in which appeared a young girl of extreme beauty.” She was adopted by the Raja, and “named Putri
Tunjong Bui, or the Princess Foam-bell.” ↑

10 It is Gabriel who performs this office in the account which follows. ↑
11 “Concerning the creation of Adam, here intimated, the Mohammedans have several peculiar
traditions. They say the angels Gabriel, Michael, and Israfil were sent by God, one after another, to
fetch for that purpose seven handfuls of earth from different depths, and of different colours (whence
some account for the various complexions of mankind); but the Earth being apprehensive of the
consequence, and desiring them to represent her fear to God that the creature He designed to form
would rebel against Him, and draw down His curse upon her, they returned without performing
God’s command; whereupon He sent Azrael on the same errand, who executed his commission
without remorse, for which reason God appointed that angel to separate the souls from the bodies,
being therefore called the angel of death. The earth he had taken was carried into Arabia, to a place
between Mecca and Tayef, where, being first kneaded by the angels, it was afterwards fashioned by
God himself into a human form, and left to dry for the space of forty days, or, as others say, as many
years, the angels in the meantime often visiting it, and Eblis (then one of the angels who are nearest
to God’s presence, afterwards the devil) among the rest; but he, not contented with looking on it,
kicked it with his foot till it rung, and knowing God designed that creature to be his superior, took a
secret resolution never to acknowledge him as such. After this God animated the figure of clay and
endued it with an intelligent soul, and when He had placed him in paradise, formed Eve out of his left
side.”—Sale’s Korân, ch. ii. (of translation), p. 4 (note). ↑

12 “The Creator determined to make man, and for that purpose He took some clay from the earth
and fashioned it into the figure of a man. Then He took the Spirit of Life to endue this body with
vitality, and placed the spirit on the head of the figure. But the spirit was strong, and the body, being
only clay, could not hold it, and was reft in pieces and scattered into the air. Those fragments of the
first great Failure are the spirits of earth and sea and air.

“The Creator then formed another clay figure, but into this one He wrought some iron, so that when it
received the vital spark it withstood the strain and became Man. That man was Adam, and the iron

that is in the constitution of his descendants has stood them in good stead. When they lose it they
become of little more account than their prototype the first failure.”—Swettenham, Malay Sketches,
p. 199. ↑

13 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 351, 352. In Selangor, some of the greater bones, at least, have their
own mystic nomenclature, e.g. the backbone, which is called tiang ʿarash, or the “Pillar of the
Heavens.” ↑
14 Of the superstition which forbids the imitation of the royal insignia I can speak personally, as
when a set of models of the Selangor regalia were being made for me, with the late Sultan’s full
permission and knowledge, I found it impossible to get them made really like the originals either in
shape or size, the makers alleging their fear of being struck dead in spite of this permission by this
Divine Power or “Daulat” if they were to imitate them too accurately. In Perak the custom would
appear to be less strict. Thus from Malay Sketches (p. 215) we may gather that in the “silver” state
even the most sacred pieces of the regalia accompany the royal party upon their annual expedition to
seek for turtles’ eggs. ↑

15 “The kabesaran or regalia of every petty state is supposed to be endowed with supernatural
powers, for instance that of the ex-Panghulu of Naning.”—Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 193. ↑
16 Ibid. ↑

17 Ibid. p. 195. ↑
18 Leyden, Malay Annals, pp. 22–23. The words in brackets are mine.—W. S. ↑

19 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 199; cp. Leyden, Mal. Annals, pp. 38, 39. Limbuara, limbuana, or
sĕmbuana (= singhabuana) is the name given to the lance of the Spectre Huntsman, (vide Chap. V. p.
118), whose k’ris is called salĕngkisa. It has been suggested that singhabuana may be composed of
two Sanskrit words meaning “lion” and “world,” but put in the Malay order, which is the opposite of
Sanskrit. If this supposition is accepted, the name would mean “lion of the world,” vide App. xxviii.–
xxx. ↑
20 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, pp. 91, 92. ↑

21 It would appear from Malay romances that the full complement of musical instruments forming
part of a royal orchestra was, at all events sometimes, twelve. Thus when S’ri Rama is bidden by the
astrologers to get up an expedition by water for the amusement of his Princess, “dresses of honour
were given to the attendants, and musical instruments of the twelve kinds were got together.”—
Maxw., in Sri Rama, J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17, p. 93. ↑

22 This list was given me by H. H. Raja Bôt of Selangor. Besides the above there are several royal
“properties” not usually included in any list of regalia. These are H. H.’s chain jacket (baju rantei); a
species of shield or targe, said to be made of brass, and called otar-otar; H. H.’s seal, and possibly his
mat and the dish he ate from. One of the tombak belonging to H. H. was a species of trident, and was
called tombak bĕrchĕranggah or the “Branching Lance.” The ordinary lances might be borrowed by
the people, and carried, for example, in the procession escorting a bridegroom (by virtue of his
supposed “one day’s sovereignty,” Raja sa-hari) to the house of his bride, but the trident never. ↑

23 “All the insignia of royalty were hastily fashioned by the goldsmiths of Pĕnjum, and whenever
To’ Râja or Wan Bong appeared in public they were accompanied by pages bearing betel-boxes,
swords, and silken umbrellas, as in the manner of Malay kings.”—Cliff., In Court and Kampong, p.
115. ↑
24 Maxw. in Raja Donan, J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 18, p. 253. ↑

25 “Ta’ lapok de’ hujan,
Ta’ lĕkang de’ panas,
Pĕsaka di toras (? turis) di-tĕladan,
Pĕsaka di-lintas tumbang.”

↑

26 It is usually upon a portion of his insignia (as, for instance, his k’ris, which is dipped into water
which he drinks) that a Malay sovereign swears his most solemn oath. Sometimes, however, it is
upon a lump of iron called bĕsi kawi, which not unfrequently forms part of the regalia as well.—Vide
Klink. s.v. Bĕsi. ↑
27 The following recital of the titles of a Sumatran Raja will show at least the extraordinary
pretensions to sanctity which to this day (with, in some parts, no great diminution) hedge about the
person of the Malay king:—

“The Sultan of Menangcabow, whose residence is at Pagarooyoong (after pardon asked for
presuming to mention his name), who is king of kings, son of Raja Iscunder-zulcarnainny, ... master
of the third of the wood maccummat, one of whose properties is to enable matter to fly; of the lance
ornamented with the beard of Jangee, of the palace of the city of Rome; ... of the gold of twelve
grains named coodarat coodarattee, resembling a man; ... who is possessed of the sword named
Chooree-se-mendong-geree, which has an hundred and ninety gaps, made in the conflict with the
arch-devil, Se Cattee-moono, whom it slew; who is master of fresh water in the ocean, to the extent
of a day’s sailing; possessed of a lance formed of a twig of ejoo (the gomuti, or sugar-palm); of a
calewang (scimitar) wrapped in an unmade chinday (cloth); of a creese (dagger) formed of the soul

of steel, which, by a noise, expresses an unwillingness at being sheathed, and shows itself pleased
when drawn; of a date coeval with the creation; possessed of a gun brought from heaven, named
soubahana hou ouatanalla; of a horse of the race of sorimbor-ahnee, superior to all others; Sultan of
the Burning Mountain, and of the mountains goontang-goontang, which divide Palembang and
Jambee; who may slay at pleasure without being guilty of a crime; who is possessed of the elephant
named settee dewa; who is Vicegerent of Heaven; Sultan of the Golden River; Lord of the Air and
Clouds; master of a balli (Audience-Hall), whose pillars are of the shrub jelattang; of gandangs
(drums) made of hollowed branches of the minute shrubs pooloot and seelosooree; of the gong that
resounds to the skies; of the buffalo named Se Binnooang Sattee, whose horns are ten feet asunder; of
the unconquered cock, Sengonannee; of the cocoa-nut tree whose amazing height, and being infested
with serpents and other noxious reptiles, render it impossible to be climbed; of the flower named
seeree menjeree, of ambrosial scent; who, when he goes to sleep, wakes not till the gandang nobat
(state drum) sounds; one of whose eyes is as the sun and the other as the moon.”—Marsden, Hist. of
Sum. p. 270.

On the foregoing list I should like to remark (1) that the necessity of asking pardon for mentioning
the king’s name is considered by the Peninsular Malays to be as imperative as ever. (2) The
expression “who is master of fresh water in the ocean” is explained by a passage in Leyden’s Malay
Annals (p. 37), where, all the fresh water being exhausted, “Raja Sang Sapurba directed them to bring
rotans and tie them in circles and throw them in the water; then having himself descended into a
small boat, he inserted his feet into the water, within the circles of bamboo (sic), and by the Power of
God Almighty and the virtue of a descendant of Raja Secander Zulkarneini, the water within these
circles became fresh, and all the crews supplied themselves with it, and unto this day the fresh water
is mixed with the salt at this place.” (3) The horse, which is usually called “Sĕmbrani,” is a magic
steed, “which could fly through the air as well as swim through the water” (Leyd., Mal. Ann. p. 17).
(4) For the mountains Goontang-goontang (or Saguntang Mahamiru), cp. Leyden’s Mal. Ann. p. 20
seqq. (5) The privilege of “slaying at pleasure without being guilty of a crime” is a privilege which
still belongs to Malay sovereigns of the first rank.

Similar sacred objects, belonging to another Sultan of “Menangcabow” named “Gaggar
Allum”(GegarʿAlam), “were a sacred crown from God”; “the cloth sansistah kallah, which weaves
itself, and adds one thread yearly of fine pearls, and when that cloth shall be finished the world will
be no more”; “the dagger Hangin Cinga (Singa?) which will, at his command, fight of itself”; “the
blue champaka flower, which is to be found in no country but his (being yellow elsewhere),” and
many others worthy of the Sultan “whose presence bringeth death to all who attempt to approach him
without permission,” and of the “Sultan of Indrapore, who has four breasts.”—Marsden, Hist. of
Sum. p. 272. ↑

28 I.e. purple, vide Klinkert, s.v.; cf. the following from J.R.A.S., S.B., No. No. 9 , p. 93: “Tan
Saban was frequently to be seen on the outworks of his fort across the river, dressed in garments of
conspicuous colours. In the morning he wore red, at mid-day yellow, and in the evening his clothes
were green. When he was pointed out to Magat Terawis, it was the morning, and he was dressed in
red.”

The foregoing superstitious observance is found among more than one Indo-Chinese nation. “Le
général en chef doit se conformer à plusieurs coutumes et observances superstitieuses; par exemple,
il faut qu’il mette une robe de couleur différente pour chaque jour de la semaine; le dimanche il
s’habille en blanc, le lundi en jaune, le mardi en vert, le mercredi en rouge, le jeudi en bleu, le
vendredi en noir, et le samedi en violet.”—Pallegoix, Description de Siam, vol. i. p. 319. ↑
29 Lit. “corpse grooves.” ↑

30 The usual form is pĕnggonggong, from gonggong, to carry in the mouth. ↑
31 Their Malay names are “Si-mulajadi,” “Ashik sa-kampong,” “Si-putar leman,” “Asam garam,”
“Ahadan mabuk,” “Sa-palit gila” “Sri gĕgah,” and “Doa unus.”—J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17, pp. 94–97. ↑

32 The Malay word is changgei, which means “long nails” (whether natural or artificial); artificial
nails are several inches in length, being much affected by Malay actors performing as royalty. ↑
33 A long step and a slow swing of the arms reminds the Malay of the way a man steps and raises
his arm to plant bean-seeds six feet apart; a quicker step and a rounder swing of the arms is compared
to the action of scattering small seeds.—J.R.A.S., S.B., loc. cit. ↑

34 In house-building it is further forbidden to dovetail or make the ends of the timbers (e.g. of the
roof) fit accurately together, and also to build two verandahs, one on each side of the house, with
their floors on a level with the floor of the main building; if two verandahs are used, the floor of one
must be lower than that of the main building (kelek anak). ↑
35 I.e. the sarong or Malay national garment; for the custom, vide Cliff., In Court and Kampong, p.
158, and for an exception, ib. 27. ↑

36 The hilt of the creese (k’ris) must, however, be hidden by a fold of the cloth about the wearer’s
waist. ↑
37 “The covered portion of the barge which carries the Sultan’s principal wife is decorated with six
scarlet-bordered white umbrellas. Two officers stand, all day long, just outside the state-room,
holding open black umbrellas with silver fringes, and two others are in the bows with long bamboo
poles held close together and erect.”—Malay Sketches, p. 214. ↑

38 Leyden, Malay Annals, pp. 94, 95. ↑

39 Code of Malacca, translated in Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 234, 235. ↑

40 In Selangor this royal right to one of each pair of elephant’s tusks is still a tradition to which an
allusion is occasionally made. There are said to have been other perquisites as well as those
mentioned, e.g. rhinoceros’ horns (sumbu badak) and bezoar stones (guliga). ↑
41 Notes and Queries, No. 4, issued with J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17, sect. 75. ↑

42 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 127. ↑
43 Swettenham, op. cit. pp. 211–226. ↑

44 Others are titah (commands); patek (slave); mĕrka or murka (wrath); karnia or kurnia (favour);
and nĕgrah or anugrah (permission); the penalty of uttering any of which, except in addressing the
sovereign, is death, i.e. should the offender be a royal slave; should he be any other individual, he is
struck on the mouth.—Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 233–234; vide also Malay Sketches, p. 218,
where the same list of linguistic taboos appears to be used in Perak. ↑
45 Marhum, one who has found mercy, i.e. the deceased. It is the custom of Malays to discontinue
after the death of a king the use of the title which he bore during his life. A new title is invented for
the deceased monarch, by which he is ever afterwards known. The existence of a similar custom
among other Indo-Chinese races has been noticed by Colonel Yule: “There is also a custom of
dropping or concealing the proper name of the king. This exists in Burma and (according to La
Loubère) in Siam. The various kings of those countries are generally distinguished by some
nickname derived from facts in their reign or personal relations, and applied to them after their
decease. Thus we hear among the Burmese kings of ‘the king dethroned by foreigners,’ ‘the king
who fled from the Chinese,’ ‘the grandfather king,’ and even ‘the king thrown into the water.’ Now
this has a close parallel in the Archipelago. Among the kings of Macassar, we find one king known
only as the ‘Throat-cutter’; another as ‘He who ran amuck’; a third, ‘The beheaded’; a fourth, ‘He
who was beaten to death on his own stair-case.’” Colonel Yule ascribes the origin of this custom to
Ancient India. [Journal Anthrop. Institute.] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, p. 98. ↑

46 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 288, note. ↑
47 The bakong is a kind of lily; the sirih is the Malay betel-vine. ↑

48 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17, p. 93. ↑
49 Touching hands is done with both hands together. If you touch hands with a man who is
somewhat your superior in rank, it is proper, in drawing back your hands, to bring them at least as
high as your chest; and if the other is decidedly your superior, even as high as your forehead, bending
forward somewhat while doing so. ↑

50 Cliff., Stud. in Brown Humanity, p. 175. ↑

51 Cliff., In Court and Kampong, p. 113, and compare the following:—“Visitors to Jugra may often
in the evening see a party of some 30 or 40 men coming along the road with His Highness” [the late
Sultan ʿAbdulsamad of Selangor] “walking a few paces ahead of them. Should a native meet the little
procession he will squat down at the side of the road until the Sultan has passed, for according to
Malay ideas it shows a want of respect in a subject to remain standing in the presence of his Raja” ...
“on replying to His Highness natives place the palms of their hands together and so raise them to
their forehead, by way of obeisance, and this is done even by his own children.”—Selangor Journal,
vol. i. No. 1, p. 5. ↑
52 This dressing up of the buffaloes, when taken in conjunction with the suspension of the breast-
ornament about their necks, suggests the survival of anthropomorphic ideas about the sacrificial
buffalo. ↑

53 Among the Malays the use of the naubat is confined to the reigning Rajas of a few States, and
the privilege is one of the most valuable insignia of royalty. In Perak the office of musician used to be
an hereditary one, the performers were called Orang Kalau, and a special tax was levied for their
support (J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, p. 104). ↑
54 I was told that these dangerous genii or spirits resided in the naubat or Big State Drum, the two
gĕndang or Small State Drums, the two langkara or State Kettle Drums, the lĕmpiri or State
Trumpet, the sĕrunei or State Flute, and the k’ris or State Dagger, called (in Selangor) b’rok bĕrayun,
or the “Swaying Baboon,” which latter is said to have slain “a hundred men less one” since it was
first used. [I learnt this from H.H. the late Sultan himself, and here record it, because it has
sometimes been asserted that H.H. the Sultan claimed to have slain these ninety-nine men with his
own hand, which H.H. assured me was not the case.] The sanctity of the remaining pieces of the
regalia appears to be less marked. They are the payong ubor-ubor or State Umbrella, the State
Trident, and the State Lances or tombak bandangan. Of the Selangor State Trumpet I was told that
any one who “brushed hastily past it” (siapa-siapa mĕlintas-nya) would be fined one dollar, even if
he were the Sultan himself (walo’ Sultan-pun kĕna juga). ↑

55 But in Malay Sketches (p. 215) we read that in Perak the royal instruments accompany the royal
water-parties, and that “the royal bugler sits on the extreme end of the prow, and from time to time
blows a call on the antique silver trumpet of the regalia.” ↑
56 The Malay headman (Haji Brahim), the priest of the local mosque, the Bilal (an inferior
attendant at the mosque), and some thirty Malays belonging to the village, took part in this ceremony.
A goat had been killed for the occasion, and the party who were paying the vow brought its flesh with
them, together with a great heap of rice stained with saffron (turmeric). The men assembled at the

tomb, incense was burned, and Arabic prayers read, after which a white cloth, five cubits long, was
laid on the saint’s grave. A banquet followed, in which we all took part. ↑

57 Frazer, Golden Bough, vol. i. p. 189. ↑
58 For the ideas referred to in this and the preceding paragraph, cp. Frazer, op. cit. vol. i. pp. 187–
207. Cp. also for the abstention from hair-cutting at childbirth, Clifford’s Studies in Brown Humanity,
p. 48. The idea of long hair is found even in animistic conceptions of natural objects. Thus the wind
(Angin) is begged in a wind-charm “to let down its long and flowing locks.” ↑

59 Raja Bĕrma, son of Raja Jaman of Bandar (Wan Bong). Cp. also Clifford, In Court and
Kampong, p. 114, “He wore his fine black hair long, so that it hung about his waist.”

The old custom in Selangor is said to have been for men to wear their hair down to the shoulders
(rambut panjang jijak bahu), but they would frequently wear it below the waist (rambut sa-
pĕrhĕmpasan), in which case it appears to have been commonly shorn at puberty or marriage. When
worn full length by men it was usually, for convenience, coiled up inside the head-cloth or turban
(saputangan or tanjak), or was made up into rolls or chignons (sanggul dan siput) like that of the
women. It was not infrequently used as a place of concealment for one of the small Malay poniards
called “Pepper-crushers” (tumbok lada), not only by men but by women. ↑

60 Frazer, op. cit. vol. i. p. 193. ↑
61 Vide infra, Chap. VI. p. 569, seqq., etc. ↑

62 Vide infra, Chap. VI. pp. 353–355, Adolescence. ↑
63 “Ces danseurs et ces danseuses ont tous des ongles faux, et fort longs, de cuivre jaune.”—La
Loubère, Royaume de Siam, tome i. pp. 148–150 (quoted by Crawf., Hist. Indian Arch. i. p. 131). Cp.
“They have a custom to wear their thumb-nails very long, especially that on their left thumb, for they
do never cut it, but scrape it often.”—Dampier’s Voyages, vol. i. pp. 325, 326. ↑

64 Vide infra, Chap. VI. pp. 355–360. ↑
65 Or Sumangat. The derivation of the word is unknown: possibly it may be connected with
sangat, “excessive,” or bangat, “sudden, quick.” The meaning covers both “soul“and “life” (i.e. not
the state of being alive, but the cause thereof or “vital principle”). ↑

66 In calling the soul, a clucking sound, represented in Malay by the word kur or kĕrr, by which
fowls are called, is almost always used; in fact, “kur sĕmangat” (“cluck! cluck! soul!”) is such a
common expression of astonishment among the Malays that its force is little more than “good
gracious me!” (vide infra, p. 534, note). ↑
67 Vide App. vi. ↑

68 In another charm we find the sick man’s body compared to a weather-beaten barque at sea. ↑

69 Vide App. cclxxi. ↑
70 The entire conception of the soul among the Malays agrees word for word with Professor
Tylor’s classical definition in Primitive Culture, vol. i. p. 387, and hence I have not hesitated to use
his exact words in so far as they were applicable. ↑

71 Cp. Tylor, Prim. Cult. vol. i. p. 422. ↑
72 What these seven souls were it is impossible without more evidence to determine. All that can
be said is that they were most probably seven different manifestations of the same soul. Such might
be the Shadow-soul, the Reflection-soul, the Puppet-soul, the Bird-soul (?), the Life-soul, etc, but as
yet no evidence is forthcoming.—Cp. Tylor, op. cit. vol. i. pp. 391, 392. ↑

73 Professor Tylor calls this “a combination of several kinds of spirit, soul, or image, to which
different functions belong” (op. cit. vol. i. pp. 391, 392). ↑
74 Infra, Chap. VI. p. 569. ↑

75 Infra, Chap. V. p. 241. ↑
76 Infra, Chap. VI. p. 575. ↑

77 Infra, Chap. VI. p. 568. ↑
78 Infra, Chap. VI. p. 431. ↑

79 We might then expect to get some such table as the following:—

Colours of Cloths (used to Colours of Colours of Rice (such
enwrap the lump of earth Cosmetics (used by as may be used by
from the footprint). the sick man). medicine-men).
... white white Highest Color.
yellow ... yellow
... ... blue.
Color.
red red red. Medium
,,
... ... purple or orange
... ... green.
black black black. Lowest Color.
,,

Green is not a common colour. Blue appears to be rarely used. It is, however, the colour assigned to a
(fabulous (?)) champaka flower, which is supposed to be the rarest of its kind (vide p. 29 n. supra).
Orange (jingga) is also extremely rare, though it is occasionally used for certain decorative work (e.g.
small wedding-pillows). ↑

80 Infra, Chap. V. pp. 211, 250, 251. ↑
81 Or is this phenomenon of a bird-shaped soul inhabiting certain trees to be explained by the
“notion of a vegetable soul, common to plants and to the higher organisms, possessing an animal soul
in addition”? and are we to take this as only “one more instance of the fuller identification of the
souls of plants with the souls of animals”?—Tylor, op. cit. vol. i. pp. 428, 429. ↑

82 Professor Tylor’s pregnant phraseology in this connection is entirely applicable to the Malays,
who “talk quite seriously to beasts alive or dead as they would to men alive or dead, offer them
homage, ask pardon when it is their painful duty to hunt and kill them.” Cp. also his remarks upon
this subject, ibid. p. 423.—Prim. Cult. vol. i. p. 422. ↑
83 Infra, Medicine, Divination, etc. ↑

84 Infra, Hunting charms. ↑
85 Infra, Fowling charms. ↑

86 Infra, Vegetation charms. ↑
87 Infra, Fishing charms. ↑

88 Infra, Mining charms. ↑
89 The central idea of this conception appears to be that these animals, birds, and trees were once
human beings, but were turned into their present shapes by reason of some wrongful act for which
they were not invariably themselves responsible. ↑

90 Vide introductory remarks to Hunting, Fowling, Fishing, Planting, and Mining charms. ↑

CHAPTER III

Relations with the Supernatural World

(a) The Magician

“The accredited intermediary between men and spirits is the Pawang;1 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 Imām, 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 kabĕsaran, 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 (bĕras), and two chupaks of ĕmping (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, 7½ 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 produce2 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.”3

“The Pawang keeps a familiar spirit, which in his case is a hantu pŭsaka,
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.”4

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 (kabĕsaran). 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 (ʿelmu) you must meet the ghost of a murdered man. Take the
midrib of a leaf of the ‘ivory’ cocoa-nut palm (pĕlĕpah 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.’5

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,6 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
islām, 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 Korān on his head, will flinch before the ordeal of a
falsehood in the presence of the Dato’ Machap.”7

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 kĕrayong tree in the middle of

this village of Bukit Sĕnggeh, 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.”8

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
Mĕntri of Perak to make the Kamunting road, and it excited much curiosity

among the Malays at the time. The Mĕntri 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.”9

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 ʿAbdullah 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 ʿAbdullah 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 ʿAbdullah 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 ʿAbdullah’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 ʿAbdullah.”10

In No. 2 of the same volume of the Selangor Journal Mr. Bellamy refers to
another kramat—that of ’Toh Kĕtapang—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 Journal11 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 Pĕnghulu 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 (pĕmainan) 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.12

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 Pŭtri Gunong Ledang is said to have dwelt, until
she transferred her ghostly court to Jugra Hill, upon the coast of Selangor.13

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.”14

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.”15

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 (tĕpong 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,16 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:—

Zabur17 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 Apostle18 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 “Kaʿbah” 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.19

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 bĕrtih); secondly, washed rice (b’ras basoh);
thirdly, saffron-stained rice (b’ras kunyit, i.e. rice stained with turmeric);20
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 “Tĕpong 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 application21 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” (ʿalamat mĕnĕtapkan sĕmangat), and which hence always
forms the core of the bouquet.22

2. The leaves of the sĕlaguri, 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),”23
which is described as one of the first of shrubs (kayu asal), and is said to be
used as a “reminder of origin” (pĕringatan 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 (ʿalamat mĕnghalaukan 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).24 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 lĕnjuang merah, or “the common red dracæna”
(Cordyline terminalis, var. ferrea, Liliaceæ).25 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 sapĕnoh (unidentified), a plant with big round leaves,
which is always placed outside the rest of the leaves in the bunch.

9. To the above list may be perhaps added the satawar, sitawar or tawar-
tawar (Costus speciosus, L., Scitamineæ, and Forrestia, spp.
Commelinaceæ); and

10. The satĕbal (Fagræa racemosa, Jack., Loganiaceæ).

Leaves of the foregoing plants and shrubs are made up, as has been said, in
small sets or combinations of five, seven, or even perhaps of nine leaves a
piece. These combinations are said to differ according to the object to
which the rice-water is to be applied. It is extremely unlikely, however, that
all magicians should make the same selections even for the same objects—
rather would they be likely to make use of such leaves on the list as happen
to be most readily available. Still, however, as the only example of such
differentiation which I have yet been able to obtain, I will give the details of
three separate and distinctive combinations, which were described to me by
a Selangor magician:—

sambau dara
sĕlaguri
(1) For a wedding tied round with a string of
pulut-pulut
ceremony shredded tree-bark.
sapanggil
sapĕnoh

gandarusa
sĕlaguri
(2) For blessing fishing- sapanggil tied with the creeper ribu-
stakes lĕnjuang ribu.
merah
sapĕnoh
lĕnjuang
merah
(3) For the ceremony of sĕlaguri
tied with ribu-ribu.
taking the rice-soul pulut-pulut
sapanggil
sapĕnoh

Further inquiry and the collection of additional material will no doubt help
to elucidate the general principles on which such selections are made.

Short rhyming charms are very often used as accompaniments of the rite of
rice-water, but appear to be seldom if ever repeated aloud. The following is
a specimen, and others will be found in the Appendix:26—

“Neutralising Rice-paste, true Rice-paste,
And, thirdly, Rice-paste of Kadangsa!
Keep me from sickness, keep me from death,
Keep me from injury and ruin.”

Other not less important developments of the idea of lustration by water are
to be found in such ceremonies as the bathing of mother and child after a
birth and the washing of the floor (basoh lantei) upon similar occasions, the
bathing of the sick, of bride and bridegroom at weddings, of corpses
(mĕruang),27 and the annual bathing expeditions (mandi Safar), which are
supposed to purify the persons of the bathers and to protect them from evil
(tolak bala).

Fasting, or the performance of religious penance, which is now but seldom
practised, would appear to have been only undertaken in former days with a

definite object in view, such as the production of the state of mental
exaltation which induces ecstatic visions, the acquisition of supernatural
powers (sakti), and so forth.

The fast always took place, of course, in a solitary spot, and not
unfrequently upon the top of some high and solitary hill such as Mount
Ophir (Gunong Ledang), on the borders of Malacca territory. Frequently,
however, much lower hills, or even plains which possessed some
remarkable rock or tree, would be selected for the purpose.

Such fasting, however, did not, as sometimes with us, convey to the Malays
the idea of complete abstinence, as the magicians informed me that a small
modicum of rice contained in a kĕtupat (which is a small diamond-shaped
rice-receptacle made of plaited cocoa-nut leaf) was the daily “allowance” of
any one who was fasting. The result was that fasts might be almost
indefinitely prolonged, and the thrice-seven-days’ fast of ’Che Utus upon
Jugra Hill, on the Selangor coast,28 is still one of the traditions of that
neighbourhood, whilst in Malay romances and in Malay tradition this form
of religious penance is frequently represented as continuing for years.

Finally, I would draw attention to the strong vein of Sympathetic Magic or
“make believe” which runs through and leavens the whole system of Malay
superstition. The root-idea of this form of magic has been said to be the
principle that “cause follows from effect.”

“One of the principles of sympathetic magic is that any effect may be
produced by imitating it.... If it is wished to kill a person, an image of him is
made and then destroyed; and it is believed that through a certain physical
sympathy between the person and his image, the man feels the injuries done
to the image as if they were done to his own body, and that when it is
destroyed he must simultaneously perish.”29

The principle thus described is perhaps the most important of all those
which underlie the “Black Art” of the Malays.

1 “The titles Pawang and Bomor are given by the Malays to their medicine men. The Pawang
class perform magic practices in order to find ore, medicine crops, or ensure good takes of fish, etc.
The Bomor usually practise their art for the cure of human disease. Both terms are, however, often
used as though they were interchangeable.”—Clifford, Hik. Raja Budiman, pt. ii. p. 28 n. ↑

2 In Bukit Sĕnggeh the articles subject to this custom are priced as follows:—

Padi (unhusked rice) 3 cents a gantang (about a gallon).
Bĕras (husked rice) 10 cents a gantang.
Kabong (i.e. palm) sugar 2½ cents a “buku” of two pieces and weighing a kati (1⅓ lb. avoir.)
Cocoa-nuts 1 cent each.
Hen’s eggs ¼ cent each.
Duck’s eggs ½ cent each.

↑

3 C. O. Blagden in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 29, pp. 5–7. ↑

4 Ibid. p. 4. ↑
5 The Malay version runs:—

“Hei angkau Si Anu,
Tolong-lah aku
Aku bawakan kapada aulia Allah,
Aku ’nak minta ʿelmu sadikit.”

This method of getting magic is an exact transcription of the words in which it was dictated to me by
a Kelantan Malay (’Che ʿAbas) then residing at Klanang in Selangor. ↑
6 Cp. Mr. G. C. Bellamy in Selangor Journal, vol. ii. No. 6, p. 90, who says: “The word kramat,
as applied to a man or woman, may be roughly translated prophet or magician. It is difficult to
convey the real idea, as Malays call a man kramat who is able to get whatever he wishes for, who is
able to foretell events, and whose presence brings good fortune to all his surroundings. District
officers will be proud to know that in this last sense the word is occasionally applied to them. When
the name kramat is applied to a place, I understand it to mean a holy place, a place of pilgrimage; but
it does not necessarily mean a grave, as many people think. I can quote the kramat at Batu Ampar,
Jugra, and numerous places on river banks where no graves exist, but yet they are called kramats.”
[There is, however, a tradition that a saint’s leg was buried at Batu Hampar!—W. S.] ↑

7 C. O. Blagden in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 29, pp. 1–3. ↑

8 C. O. Blagden in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 29, pp. 4, 5. ↑
9 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 2, p. 236. ↑

10 Selangor Journal, vol. ii. No. 6, p. 90, seqq. ↑
11 Ibid. vol. v. No. 19, p. 308. ↑

12 Infra, Chap. V. pp. 153, 163. ↑
13 The local Malacca tradition represents her as still haunting her original seat. She is said to
appear sometimes in the shape of an old woman with a cat, sometimes as a young and beautiful girl
dressed in silk. She can transform her cat into a tiger if people molest her. J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 24, pp.
165, 166; No. 32, pp. 213, 214. ↑

14 Tylor, Prim. Cult. vol. ii. p. 340. ↑
15 Tylor, Prim. Cult. vol. ii. p. 341. ↑

16 Vide supra, Chap. II. p. 42. ↑
17 Zabur is the Arabic for “psalm,” especially for the Psalms of David; but the connection here is
not very obvious. ↑

18 Another account derives the origin of incense from the eye gum of the Prophet Muhammad’s
eyes. ↑
19 Infra, Chap. VI. p. 410, infra. ↑

20 This rice is occasionally stained with other colours, e.g. red, green, black (vide pp. 416, 421,
infra.) ↑
21 Sometimes it is “dabbed” on the object, sometimes “painted” on it so as to spread as evenly as
possible, more rarely “sprinkled.” ↑

22 It is not unfrequently used in medicinal and other ceremonies, e.g. it is tied to each corner of the
new mat on which the first-fruits of the rice-harvest are spread out to dry, and to the centre of the
long wooden pestle which is used for husking them. ↑
23 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 240. ↑

24 According to Favre and v. d. Wall, Hedychium coronarium. ↑
25 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 158. ↑

26 Vide App. xiii., xxxvi., xxxvii., cli., etc. ↑

27 Vide Birth, Marriage, Funerals, Medicine. ↑

28 It was on Jugra Hill, according to tradition, that the Princess of Malacca fasted to obtain eternal
youth. ↑
29 Frazer, Golden Bough, vol. i. pp. 9–12. ↑

CHAPTER IV

The Malay Pantheon

(a) Gods

A careful investigation of the magic rites and charms used by a nation
which has changed its religion will not unfrequently show, that what is
generally called witchcraft is merely the débris of the older ritual,
condemned by the priests of the newer faith, but yet stubbornly, though
secretly, persisting, through the unconquerable religious conservatism of the
mass of the people.

“There is nothing that clings longer to a race than the religious faith in
which it has been nurtured. Indeed, it is impossible for any mind that is not
thoroughly scientific to cast off entirely the religious forms of thought in
which it has grown to maturity. Hence in every people that has received the
impression of foreign beliefs, we find that the latter do not expel and
supersede the older religion, but are engrafted on it, blent with it, or overlie
it. Observances are more easily abandoned than ideas, and even when all
the external forms of the alien faith have been put on, and few vestiges of
the indigenous one remain, the latter still retains its vitality in the mind, and
powerfully colours or corrupts the former. The actual religion of a people is
thus of great ethnographic interest, and demands a minute and searching
observation. No other facts relating to rude tribes are more difficult of
ascertainment, or more often elude inquiry.”1

“The general principle stated by Logan in the passage just quoted receives
remarkable illustration from a close investigation of the folk-lore and
superstitious beliefs of the Malays. Two successive religious changes have
taken place among them, and when we have succeeded in identifying the

vestiges of Brahmanism which underlie the external forms of the faith of
Muhammad, long established in all Malay kingdoms, we are only half-way
through our task.”

“There yet remain the powerful influences of the still earlier indigenous
faith to be noted and accounted for. Just as the Buddhists of Ceylon turn in
times of sickness and danger, not to the consolations offered by the creed of
Buddha, but to the propitiation of the demons feared and reverenced by
their early progenitors, and just as the Burmese and Talaings, though
Buddhists, retain in full force the whole of the Nat superstition, so among
the Malays, in spite of centuries which have passed since the establishment
of an alien worship, the Muhammadan peasant may be found invoking the
protection of Hindu gods against the spirits of evil with which his primitive
faith has peopled all natural objects.”2

“What was the faith of Malaya seven hundred years ago it is hard to say, but
there is a certain amount of evidence to lead to the belief that it was a form
of Brahmanism, and that, no doubt, had succeeded the original spirit
worship.”3

The evidence of folk-lore, taken in conjunction with that supplied by
charm-books and romances, goes to show that the greater gods of the Malay
Pantheon, though modified in some respects by Malay ideas, were really
borrowed Hindu divinities, and that only the lesser gods and spirits are
native to the Malay religious system. It is true that some of these native
gods can be with more or less distinctness identified with the great powers
of nature: the King of the Winds (Raja Angin) for instance; “Mambang Tali
Harus,” or the god of mid-currents (the Malay Neptune); the gods of
thunder and lightning, of the celestial bodies, etc.; but none of them appear
to have the status of the chief gods of the Hindu system, and both by land
and water the terrible Shiva (“Batara Guru” or “Kala”) is supreme. Yet each
department of nature, however small, has its own particular godling or spirit
who requires propitiation, and influences for good or evil every human
action. Only the moral element is wanting to the divine hegemony—the
“cockeyed,” limping substitute which does duty for it reflecting only too
truthfully the character of the people with whom it passes as divine.

I will first take, in detail, the gods of Hindu origin. “Batara (or Bĕtara)
Guru” is “the name by which Siva is known to his worshippers, who
constitute the vast majority of the Balinese, and who probably constituted
the bulk of the old Javanese.”4

In the magic of the Peninsular Malays we find Vishnu the Preserver,
Brahma the Creator, Batara Guru, Kala, and S’ri simultaneously appealed to
by the Malay magician; and though it would, perhaps, be rash, (as Mr.
Wilkinson says), to infer solely from Malay romances or Malay theatrical
invocations (many of which owe much to Javanese influence), that
Hinduism was the more ancient religion of the Malays, there is plenty of
other evidence to prove that the “Batara Guru” of the Malays (no less than
the Batara Guru of Bali and Java) is none other than the recognised father
of the Hindu Trinity.5

Of the greater deities or gods, Batara Guru is unquestionably the greatest.
“In the Hikayat Sang Samba (the Malay version of the Bhaumakavya),
Batara Guru appears as a supreme God, with Brahma and Vishnu as
subordinate deities. It is Batara Guru who alone has the water of life (ayer
utama (atama) jiwa) which brings the slaughtered heroes to life.”6

So to this day the Malay magician declares that ’Toh Batara Guru (under
any one of the many corruptions which his name now bears7) was “the all-
powerful spirit who held the place of Allah before the advent of
Muhammadanism, a spirit so powerful that he could restore the dead to life;
and to him all prayers were addressed.”

Mr. Wilkinson, in the article from which we have already quoted, deals with
another point of interest, the expression sang-yang, or batara, which is
prefixed to guru. After pointing out that yang in this case is not the ordinary
Malay pronoun (yang, who), but an old word meaning a “deity,” he
remarks, that so far as he has been able to discover, it is only used of the
greater Hindu divinities, and not of inferior deities or demi-gods. Thus we
find it applied to Shiva and Vishnu, but never to the monkey-god Hanuman,
or a deity of secondary importance like Dermadewa. Such inferior divinities
have only the lesser honorific “sang” prefixed to their names, and in this

respect fare no better than mere mortals (such as Sang Sapurba and Sang
Ranjuna Tapa) and animals (such as, in fables, Sang Kanchil, Mr.
Mousedeer; and Sang Tikus, Mr. Rat).

“The expression batara is also limited to the greater Hindu divinities
(except when used as a royal title), e.g. Batara Guru, Batara Kala, Batara
Indra, Batara Bisnu, etc. Thus the expressions sang-yang and batara are
fairly coincident in their application.8 But there are a few deities of whom
the honorific sang-yang is used, but not batara, e.g. sang-yang tunggal, ‘the
only God,’ sang-yang sokma, etc.

“Thus batara would seem to be limited in use to the actual names of Hindu
deities as distinct from epithets describing those deities. “Batara Guru”
would seem to be an exception—the only one—to this rule, and to point to
the fact that the original meaning of guru had been lost sight of, and that the
expression had come to be regarded only as a proper name.”

Occasionally, as is only to be expected, the Malays get mixed in their
mythology, and of this Mr. Wilkinson gives two examples, one of the
identification of Batara Guru (Shiva) with Brahma (Bĕrahmana), and
another of the drawing of a distinction between “Guru” (Shiva) and
“Mahadewa,” which latter is only another name for the same divinity.

Such slips are inevitable among an illiterate people, and should always be
criticised by comparison with the original Hindu tenets, from which these
ideas may be presumed to have proceeded.

Mr. Wilkinson quotes an extraordinary genealogy representing, inter alia,
“Guru as the actual father of the Hindu Trinity,” and also of “Sambu”
(whom he cannot identify), and “Sĕri, who is the Hindu Sri, the goddess of
grain, and, therefore, a deity of immense importance to the old Javanese and
Malays.”

On this I would only remark that Sambu (or Jambu) is the first portion of
the name almost universally ascribed to the Crocodile-spirit by the
Peninsular Malays.9

It would be beyond the scope of this work to attempt the identification of
Batara Guru (Shiva) with all the numerous manifestations and titles
attributed to him by the Malays, but the special manifestation (of Shiva),
which is called “Kala,” forms an integral part of the general conception,
whether among the Malays or Hindus, and is, therefore, deserving of some
attention.

The Malay conception of Batara Guru seems to have been that he had both
a good and a bad side to his character. Though he was “Destroyer” he was
also “Restorer-to-life,”10 and it would appear that these two opposite
manifestations of his power tended to develop into two distinct
personalities, a development which apparently was never entirely
consummated. This, however, is not the only difficulty, for on investigating
the limits of the respective spheres of influence of Batara Guru and Kala,
we find that the only sphere, which is always admitted to be under Kala’s
influence, is the intermediate zone between the respective spheres of
influence of Batara Guru (as he is called if on land, “Si Raya” if at sea) and
a third divinity, who goes by the name of “’Toh Panjang Kuku,” or
“Grandsire Long-Claws.”

Now Hindu mythology, we are told, knows next to nothing of the sea, and
any such attempt as this to define the respective boundaries of sea and land
is almost certain to be due to the influence of Malay ideas. Again, the
intermediate zone is not necessarily considered less dangerous than that of
definitely evil influences. Thus the most dangerous time for children to be
abroad is sunset, the hour when we can “call it neither perfect day nor
night”; so too a day of mingled rain and sunshine is regarded as fraught
with peculiar dangers from evil spirits, and it would be quite in keeping
with such ideas that the intermediate zone, whether between high and low
water-mark, or between the clearing and primeval forest, should be assigned
to Kala, the Destroyer. In which case the expression “Grandsire Long-
Claws” might be used to signify this special manifestation of Shiva on land,
possibly through the personality of the Tiger, just as the Crocodile-spirit
appears to represent Shiva by water.11

We thus reach a point of exceptional interest, for hunting, being among the
old Hindus one of the seven deadly sins, was regarded as a low pursuit, and
one which would never be indulged in by a god. Yet I was repeatedly told
when collecting charms about the Spectre Huntsman that he was a god, and,
explicitly, that he was Batara Guru. This shows the strength of the Malay
influences which had been at work, and which had actually succeeded in
corrupting the character, so to speak, of the supreme god of this borrowed
Hindu Trinity.12

The Batara Guru of the Sea, who by some magicians, at all events, is
identified with Si Raya (the “Great One”), and, probably wrongly, with the
God of Mid-currents13 (Mambang Tali Harus), is of a much milder
character than his terrestrial namesake or compeer, and although sickness
may sometimes be ascribed to the sea-spirit’s wrath, it is neither so sudden
nor so fatal as the sickness ascribed to the wanton and unprovoked malice
of the Spectre Huntsman, or Spirit of the Land.

Fishermen and seafarers, on the other hand, obtain many a favour from him,
and even hope to make friends with him by means of simple sacrifices and
charms.

Si Raya (or Madu-Raya) is said to have a family, his wife’s name being
Madu-ruti, and his children “Wa’ Ranai,” and “Si Kĕkas” (the scratcher), all
of whom, however, have their own separate spheres of influence. The
“Great One” himself (Madu-Raya) rules over the sea from low-water mark
(at the river’s mouth) out to mid-ocean; and if his identity with “’Toh
Rimpun ʿAlam” is accepted,14 his place of abode is at the navel of the seas,
within the central whirlpool (Pusat Tasek), from the centre of which springs
the Magic Tree (Pauh Janggi), on whose boughs perches the roc (garuda) of
fable, and at whose foot dwells the Gigantic Crab, whose entrance into and
exit from the cave in which he dwells is supposed to cause the displacement
of water which results in the ebb and flow of the tide.15

The only other divinities (of the rank of “Mambangs”) which are of any
importance are the “White divinity,” who dwells in the Sun, the “Black
divinity,” who dwells in the Moon, and the “Yellow divinity,” who dwells in

the Yellow Sunset-glow, which latter is always considered most dangerous
to children.

When there is a decided glow at sunset, any one who sees it takes water into
his mouth (di-kĕmam ayer) and dislodges it in the direction of the
brightness, at the same time throwing ashes (di-sĕmbor dĕngan abu) saying:
—

Mambang kuning, mambang k’labu,
Pantat kuning di-sĕmbor abu.

This is done “in order to put out the brightness,” the reason that it must be
put out being that in the case of any one who is not very strong (lĕmah
sĕmangat) it causes fever.

(b) Spirits, Demons, and Ghosts

The “Jins” or “Genii,” generally speaking, form a very extensive class of
quite subordinate divinities, godlings, or spirits, whose place in Malay
mythology is clearly due, whether directly or indirectly, to Muhammadan
influences, but who may be most conveniently treated here as affording a
sort of connecting link between gods and ghosts. There has, it would
appear, been a strong tendency on the part of the Malays to identify these
imported spirits with the spirits of their older (Hindu) religion, but the only
Genie who really rises to the level of one of the great Hindu divinities is the
Black King of the Genii (Sang Gala16 Raja, or Sa-Raja Jin), who appears at
times a manifestation of Shiva Batara Guru, who is confounded with the
destructive side of Shiva, i.e. Kala. This at least would appear to be the only
theory on which we could explain the use of many of the epithets or
attributes assigned to the King of the Genii, who is at one time called “the
one and only God”; at another, “Bĕntara (i.e. Batara), Guru, the Genie that
was from the beginning,” and at another, “the Land Demon, the Black
Batara Guru,” etc.

The following is a description of this, the mightiest of the Genii:—

Peace be with you!
Ho, Black Genie with the Black Liver,
Black Heart and Black Lungs,
Black Spleen and tusk-like Teeth,
Scarlet Breast and body-hairs inverted,
And with only a single bone.17

So far as can be made out from the meagre evidence obtainable, the spirit
thus described is identifiable with the Black King of Genii, who dwells in
the Heart of the Earth, and whose bride, Sang Gadin (or Gading), presented
him with seven strapping Black Genii as children.18

Plate 2.—Spirits.

Models of the White and Black Genii (Jin Puteh and Jin Hitam)

Page 94.

Altogether there are one hundred and ninety of these (Black?) Genii—more
strictly, perhaps, one hundred and ninety-three, which coincides curiously
with the number of “Mischiefs” (Badi), which reside in “all living things.”
The resemblance, I may add, does not end here; for though the Genii may
do good, and the “Badi” do not, both are considered able to do infinite harm
to mortals, and both make choice of the same kind of dwelling-places, such

as hollows in the hills, solitary patches of primeval forest, dead parasites on
trees, etc. etc.

As to the origin of these Genii, one magician told me that all “Jins” came
from the country “Ban Ujan,” which may possibly be Persia;19 other
magicians, however, variously derive them from the dissolution of various
parts of the anatomy of the great snake “Sakatimuna,” of the “First Great
Failure” to make man’s image (at the creation of man); from the drops of
blood which spirted up to heaven when the first twins, Abel and Cain (in the
Malay version Habil and Kabil) bit their thumbs; from the big cocoa-nut
monkey or baboon (bĕrok bĕsar), and so on.

The theory already mentioned, viz. that the Black King of the Genii
gradually came to be identified with Kala, and later came gradually to be
established as a separate personality, appears to be the only one which will
satisfactorily explain the relations subsisting between the Black and White
Genii, who are on the one hand distinctly declared to be brothers, whilst the
White Genie is in another passage declared to be Maharaja Dewa or
Mahadewa, which latter is, as we have already seen, a special name of
Shiva.

This White Genie is said to have sprung, by one account, from the blood-
drops which fell on the ground when Habil and Kabil bit their thumbs; by
another, from the irises of the snake Sakatimuna’s eyes (bĕnih mata
Sakatimuna), and is sometimes confused with the White Divinity (’Toh
Mambang Puteh), who lives in the sun.

The name of his wife is not mentioned, as it is in the case of the Black
Genie, but the names of three of his children have been preserved, and they
are Tanjak Malim Kaya, Pari Lang (lit. kite-like, i.e. “winged” Skate), and
Bintang Sutan (or Star of Sutan).20

On the whole, I may say that the White Genie is very seldom mentioned in
comparison with the Black Genie, and that whereas absolutely no harm, so
far as I can find out, is recorded of him, he is, on the other hand, appealed to
for protection by his worshippers.

A very curious subdivision of Genii into Faithful (Jin Islām) and Infidel (Jin
Kafir) is occasionally met with, and it is said, moreover, that Genii (it is to
be hoped orthodox ones) may be sometimes bought at Mecca from the
“Sheikh Jin” (Headman of Genii) at prices varying from $90 to $100 a
piece.21

Besides these subdivisions, certain Genii are sometimes specifically
connected with special objects or ideas. Thus there are the Genii of the
royal musical instruments (Jin Nĕmfiri, or Lĕmpiri, Gĕndang, and Naubat),
who are sometimes identified with the Genii of the State (Jin Karaja’an),
and the Genii of the Royal Weapons (Jin Sĕmbuana), both of which classes
of Genii are held able to strike men dead. The only other Genie that I would
here specially mention is the Jin ʿAfrit (sometimes called Jin Rafrit), from
whom the “White Man” (a designation which is often specially used in the
Peninsula as a synonym for Englishman) is sometimes said to have sprung,
but who belongs in Arabian mythology to a higher class than the mere
Genii. Before leaving the subject of Genii, I must, however, point out the
extremely common juxtaposition of the Arabic word “Jin” and the Malay
“Jĕmbalang.” From the frequency with which this juxtaposition occurs, and
from the fact that the two appear to be used largely as convertible terms, we
might expect to find that Jin and Jĕmbalang were mere synonyms, both
applicable to similar classes of spirits. The process is not quite complete,
however, as although the expression Jĕmbalang Tunggal (the only
Jĕmbalang), is found as well as Jin Tunggal, the higher honorific Sang Raja
or Sa-Raja is never, so far as I am aware, prefixed to the word “Jĕmbalang,”
though it is frequently prefixed to “Jin.” Of the other members of the Malay
hierarchy who owe their introduction to Muhammadan influences, the only
ones of importance are angels (Mala’ikat), prophets (Nabi), and headmen
(Sheikh).

I will take them in this order.

Of the angels, unquestionably the most important are Azrael (ʿAzra’il or
ʿIjrail), Michael (Mika’il), Israfel (Israfil, Ijrafil, or Serafil), and Gabriel
(Jibra’il or ’Jabra’il, often corrupted into Raja Brahil). There can be no
doubt that the foregoing are meant for the names of a group of four

archangels, the name of Israfel corresponding to Abdiel, who generally
occupies the fourth place in our own angelic hierarchy.

Their customary duties are apportioned among the four great angels as
follows:—

Azrael is, as with us, the angel of death, who “carries off the lives of all
creatures”; Israfel is “lord of all the different airs” in our body; Michael is
the “giver of daily bread”; and Gabriel is a messenger or “bringer of news.”

Sometimes, again, a White Angel (Mala’ikat Puteh) is mentioned, e.g. as
being in “charge of all things in the jungle,” but what his specific duties are
in this connection does not transpire.

In an invocation addressed to the Sea-spirit, however, we find four more
such angels mentioned, all of whom hold similar charges:—

Chitar Ali is the angel’s name, who is lord of the whirlpool;
Sabur Ali is the angel’s name, who is lord of the winds;
Sir Ali is the angel’s name, who is lord of the waters of the sea;
Putar Ali is the angel’s name, who is lord of the rainbow.

No doubt the names of many more of the subordinate angels might be
collected, as we are repeatedly told that they are forty-four in number.

Of the prophets (Nabi) there are an indefinite number, the title being applied
to many of the more prominent characters who figure in our own Old
Testament (as well as in the Korān), but who would not by ourselves be
considered to possess any special qualifications for prophetic office. Among
the more famous of these I may mention (after Muhammad and his
immediate compeers) the prophet Solomon (sometimes considered—no
doubt owing to his unrivalled reputation for magical skill—as the king of
the Genii, whose assistance the hunter or trapper is continually invoking);
the prophet David, celebrated for the beauty of his voice; and the prophet
Joseph, celebrated for the beauty of his countenance. Besides these (and
others of the same type), there is a group of minor prophets whose
assistance is continually invoked in charms; these are the prophet Tap

(Tĕtap or Kĕtap?), “lord of the earth;” the prophet Khailir (Khaithir or
Khizr), “lord of water;” the prophet Noah, “lord of trees;” and the prophet
Elias, “planter of trees.”

Khizr is often confounded with Elias. He discovered and drank of the
fountain of life (whence his connection with water), and will consequently
not die till the last trump.

Next to the prophets comes the “Sultan” (Sultan), or “King” (Malik), both
of which Arabic titles, however, are somewhat rarely used by Malay
magicians. Still we find such expressions as Sa-Raja (Sang-Raja?) Malik
(King of Kings) applied to Batara Guru.

Next to these royal honorifics comes the title of “Headman” or “Sheikh.”

There are, it is usually stated, four of these Sheikhs who are “penned” (di-
kandang) in the Four Corners of the Earth respectively, and whose names
are ʿAbdul Kadir, ʿAbdul Muri, a third whose name is not mentioned, and
ʿAbdul ʿAli.22

Sometimes they are called “Sheikh ʿAlam” (or Si Putar ʿAlam), and are
each said to reside “within a ring-fence of white iron.” Hence we obtain a
perfectly intelligible meaning for the expression, “Ask pardon of the Four
Corners of the World,” i.e. of the Sheikhs who reside therein, though the
phrase sounds ridiculous enough without such explanation.

The only other Arabic title which is perhaps worth noticing here23 is that of
“Priest” (Imām), which we find somewhat curiously used in an invocation
addressed to the sea-spirit. “Imām An Jalil is the name of the ‘Priest of the
Sea.’”

In the invocation addressed to the Sea-spirit we find the expression:—

“Jungle-chief of the World is the name of the Old Man of the Sea.”

There can, however, be little doubt that this “Old Man of the Sea” is a mere
synonym for Batara Guru.

A set of expressions to which special reference should perhaps be made
consists of the titles used by the wild jungle tribes (Sakais), the use of
which is important as confirming the principle that the “Autochthones” are
more influential with the spirits residing in their land than any later arrivals
can be, whatever skill the latter may have acquired in the magic arts of the
country from whence they came.

“Abdullah bin Abdul Kadir, Munshi, in his Autobiography, has an
interesting passage on the beliefs of the Malays on the subject of spirits and
demons, beliefs which are much more deeply-rooted than is generally
supposed. He does not, however, differentiate between national customs
and beliefs, and those which have come in with the Muhammadan religion.
And indeed it is not easy to do so. Here, everything is classed under the
generic term sheitan, which is Arabic, and we find the rakshasa of Hindu
romances and the jin and ʿefrit of the Arabian Nights in the company of a
lot of Indo-Chinese spirits and goblins, who have not come from the West
like the others:—

“I explained to Mr. M. clearly the names of all the sheitan believed in by
Chinese and Malays; all ignorance and folly which have come down from
their ancestors in former times, and exist up to the present day, much more
than I could relate or explain. I merely enumerated the varieties, such as
hantu, sheitan,24 polong,25 pontianak, penanggalan,26 jin,27 pelisit,28
mambang,29 hantu pemburu,30 hantu rimba, jadi-jadian,31 hantu bengkus,32
bota, gargasi, raksaksa,33 nenek kabayan,34 himbasan,35 sawan,36 hantu
mati di-bunoh,37 bajang,38 katagoran, sempak-kan, puput-kan,39 ʿefrit,40
jemalang,41 terkena,42 ubat guna.43 Besides all these there are ever so many
ilmu-ilmu (branches of secret knowledge), all of which I could not
remember, such as gagak,44 penundok,45 pengasih,46 kebal,47 kasaktian,48
tuju,49 ʿalimun,50 pendĕras,51 perahuh,52 chucha,53 pelali,54 perangsang,55
and a quantity of others. All these are firmly believed in by the people.
Some of these arts have their professors (guru) from whom instruction may
be got. Others have their doctors, who can say this is such and such a
disease, and this is the remedy for it, and besides these there are all those
arts which are able to cause evil to man. When Mr. M. heard all this he was

astonished and wondered, and said, ‘Do you know the stories of all these?’ I
replied, ‘If I were to explain all about them it would fill a large book, and
the contents of the book would be all ignorance and nonsense without any
worth, and sensible persons would not like to listen to it, they would merely
laugh at it.’”56

To the foregoing the following list of spirits and ghosts may be added.

The Hantu Kubor (Grave Demons) are the spirits of the dead, who are
believed to prey upon the living whenever they get an opportunity. With
them may be classed the “Hantu orang mati di-bunoh,” or “spirits of
murdered men.”

“The Hantu Ribut is the storm-fiend that howls in the blast and revels in the
whirlwind.”57

The Hantu Ayer and Hantu Laut are Water and Sea-spirits, and the Hantu
Bandan is the Spirit of the Waterfall, which “may often be seen lying prone
on the water, with head like an inverted copper (kawah),” where the water
rushes down the fall between the rocks.

The Hantu Longgak58 is continually looking up in the air. Those who are
attacked by him foam at the mouth.

The Hantu Rimba (Deep-forest Demon), Hantu Raya59 (“Great” Demon),
Hantu Dĕnei (Demon of Wild-beast-tracks), the Hantu-hantuan (Echo-
spirits), and I think the Hantu Bakal, are all spirits of the jungle, but are
perhaps somewhat less localised than the large class of spirits (such as the
Malacca-cane, gharu, gutta, and camphor-tree spirits) which are specially
associated with particular trees.

The Hantu B’rok is the Baboon Demon (the B’rok being what is generally
called the “cocoa-nut monkey,” a sort of big baboon); it is sometimes
supposed to take possession of dancers, and enable them, whilst
unconscious, to perform wonderful climbing feats.

The Hantu Bĕlian, according to many Selangor Malays, is a tiger-spirit
which takes the form of a bird. This bird is said to be not unlike the raquet-
tailed king-crow (chĕnchawi), and to sit on the tiger’s back; whence it
plucks out the tiger’s fur and swallows it, never allowing it to fall to the
ground.60

The Hantu Songkei61 is the spirit who so often interferes with the toils for
catching wild animals and snares for wildfowl (yang kachau jaring dan
rachik). He is described as being invisible below the breast, with a nose of
enormous length, and eye-sockets stretched sideways to such an extent that
he can see all round him.

The following charm is recited in order to “neutralise” his evil influence:—

Peace be with you, grandson of the Spectre Huntsman,
Whose Dwelling-place is a solitary patch of primeval forest,
Whose Chair is the nook between the buttresses (of trees),
Whose Leaning-post the wild Areca-palm,
Whose Roof the (leaves of the) Tukas,
Whose Body-hairs are leaves of the Rĕsam,
Whose Mattress leaves of the Lerek,
Whose Swing the (tree) Mĕdang Jĕlawei,
And whose Swing-ropes are Malacca-cane-plants
The Gift of His Highness Sultan Bĕrumbongan,
Who dwelt at Pagar Ruyong,
In the House whose posts were heart of the Tree-nettle,
Whose threshold a stem of Spinach,
Strewn over with stems of the Purut-purut,
Whose Body-hairs were inverted,
And whose Breasts were four in number,
To whom belonged the Casting-net for Flies,
And whose drum was “headed” with the skins of lice.
Break not faith with me,
(Or) you shall be killed by the Impact of the Sanctity of the Four Corners of
the World,
Killed by the Impact of the Forty-four Angels,

Killed by the Impact of the Pillar of the Kaʿbah,
Killed by the Thrust of the sacred Lump of Iron,
Killed by the Shaft of the Thunderbolt,
Killed by the Pounce of Twilight Lightning,
Killed by the Impact of the Thirty Sections of the Korān,
Killed by the Impact of the Saying, “There is no god but God,”
etc.

Giants are called Bota (Bhuta), Raksasa, and Gargasi (gasi-gasi or gĕgasi),
or sometimes Hantu Tinggi (“Tall Demons”), the first two of these names
being clearly derivable from a Sanskrit origin.

In addition to those enumerated we may add the various classes of “good
people,” such as the Bidadari (or Bĕdiadari) or Pĕri (fairies and elves),
which are of foreign origin, and the “Orang Bunyian,” a class of Malay
spirits about whom very little seems known. The latter appear to be a race
of good fairies, who are so simple-minded that they can be very easily
cheated. Thus it is always said of them, that whenever they come into a
hamlet, as they may occasionally do, to buy anything, they always pay
without bargaining whatever price is asked, however exorbitant it may be. I
have been told of their existence at Kapar village (near Klang in Selangor),
at Jugra, where it was said they might formerly be heard paddling their
boats upon the river when no boat was visible, and elsewhere.

Besides these there are several kinds of bloodsucking (vampire) demons,
which are mostly Birth-spirits; and also certain incubi, such as the Hantu
Kopek, which is the Malay equivalent of our own “night-mare.”

1 Journal of the Indian Archipelago, vol. iv. p. 573. ↑
2 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, pp. 11, 12. ↑

3 Swettenham, Malay Sketches, p. 192. ↑
4 Mr. R. J. Wilkinson in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 308. ↑

5 The following are the deities most usually inscribed in the “magic square” of five: 1. Kala
(black), which is an epithet of Shiva; 2. Maheswara, which means Great Lord, an epithet of Shiva; 3.
Vishnu; 4. Brahma; 5. S’ri (the wife of Vishnu); or else the names are mentioned in this order: 1.

Brahma; 2. Vishnu; 3. Maheswara (Shiva); 4. S’ri; 5. Kala. Kali, Durga, or Gauri, is the wife of
Shiva; Sarasvati is the wife of Brahma. See inf. p. 545, seqq. In the magic word Aum (OM): A =
Vishnu, U = Shiva, M = Brahma. ↑

6 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 309. This is the water of life called Amrita, to obtain which, by
churning the ocean, Vishnu assumed one of his avatars—that of the tortoise. ↑
7 Cp. Crawfurd, Hist. of the Ind. Archipelago, vol. ii. p. 219. “From some of the usual epithets
bestowed upon Siwa by the pagan Javanese, and still familiar to their posterity, the pre-eminence of
this deity is clearly demonstrated.... He is the same personage who acts so distinguished a part in the
machinery of Malayan and Javanese romances, under the appellation of Guru, or the instructor,
prefixing to it the word Batara, a corruption of Avatara, both in sense and orthography, for with the
Indian islanders that word is not used as with the genuine Hindus, to express the incarnation of a god,
but as an appellation expressing any deity; nay, as if conferring an apotheosis upon their princes, it
has been sometimes prefixed to the names of some of the most celebrated of their ancient kings.
When Siwa appears in this character, in the romances of the Indian islanders, he is painted as a
powerful, mischievous, and malignant tyrant—a description sufficiently consonant to his character of
Destroyer in the Hindu triad”; and, again, “ywang is a Javanese word used in the same sense as
batara.... Usually the obsolete relative pronoun sang, which has the sense, in this case, of a definite
article, is placed before it. Thus sangywang guru is the same as batara guru.... It is probably the same
word also which forms the last part of a word in extensive use, sâmbahayang, ‘worship or
adoration.’”—Crawfurd, Mal. Grammar, p. cxcviii. To this I may add that the form ywang, when
used by the Peninsular Malays, becomes “yang,” sangyang being also found.

Another (and probably better) etymology of batara is given by Favre and Wilken, viz. Sanskr.
bhattara, “lord.” ↑
8 To these should perhaps be added dewa, mambang (?), and sa-raja (or sang raja), if Mr.
Wilkinson’s explanation of this last expression be taken as correct. And in any case its use in
combination with guru appears to warrant its classification with the titles applied to the greater
deities. It is also, however, used, like sang, of inferior deities and even of animals (e.g. in a “Spectre
Huntsman” charm) we find “Lansat, sa-raja anjing, etc.” Dewa is used indiscriminately
(occasionally in conjunction with mambang) both of the greater and lesser divinities. Thus we not
unfrequently find such expressions as Dewa Bisnu (i.e. Vishnu), dewa mambang, dewa dan
mambang, etc.; and we are expressly told that they (the Dewas) “are so called because they are
immortal.” Mambang (per se) is said to be similarly used, not only of greater (vide App. xvii.), but of
lesser divinities, and “Mambang Tali Harus,” god of mid-currents, has even been explained as
referring to Batara Guru (Shiva). This, however, is no doubt an instance of confusion, as it generally

appears to be used with the “colour” attributes (e.g. M. puteh, White; M. hitam, Black; M. kuning,
Yellow) usually assigned to the inferior divinities; and, moreover, in an invocation addressed to the
sea-spirit, the “god of mid-currents” is requested to forward a message to Dato’ Rimpun ʿAlam,
which appears to be merely another name for Batara Guru, the reason given for the preferment of this
request being that he is in the habit of “visiting the Heart of the Seas” in which ’Toh Rimpun ʿAlam
dwells (the title of the latter being perhaps taken from the tree, Pauh Janggi). ↑

9 Footnote supra. Sambu (Sambhu, the Auspicious One) is merely another name for Shiva (rarely
of Brahma), and its application to the crocodile-spirit would appear to indicate that this latter was,
formerly, at least, regarded as an embodiment of that supreme god’s manifestation as a water-god. It
is worth while to compare this with the expression “’Toh Panjang Kuku,” which is applied to the
corresponding manifestation of the supreme god on land, and which strongly suggests the tiger.

“Most of the theological words of this list [printed in App. xiv.] are Sanskrit, and afford proof
sufficient, if any were needed, of the former prevalence of the Hindu religion among the Malays and
Javanese. Many of them are more or less corrupted in orthography, owing to the defective
pronunciation and defective alphabets of the Archipelago. Some, also, are altered or varied in sense.
Tapas, ‘ascetic devotion,’ is deprived of its last consonant and becomes tapa. Avatar, ‘a descent,’ is
converted into batara; and instead of implying the descent or incarnation of a deity, is used as an
appellative for any of the principal Hindu deities. Combined with guru, also Sanskrit, it is the most
current name of the chief god of the Hindus, worshipped by the Indian islanders, supposed to have
been Vishnu, or the preserving power. It may be translated “the spiritual guide god,” or, perhaps,
literally “the god of the spiritual guides,” that is, of the Brahmins. Agama in Sanskrit is “authority for
religious doctrine”; in Malay and Javanese it is religion itself, and is at present applied both to the
Mahomedan and the Christian religions. With nearly the same orthography, and in the same sense,
Sanskrit words, as far as they extend, are used throughout the Archipelago, and even as far as the
Philippines.”—Crawfurd, Mal. Grammar, pp. cxcvii.–cxcviii. ↑

10 Supra, p. 86. ↑
11 Some confirmation of this view may be found if we admit the explanation given me by a
medicine-man, who identified the Spectre Huntsman with ’Toh Panjang-Kuku, and both with Batara
Guru. ↑
12 The supreme god in the State Chamber (balei) is Batara Guru, on the edge of the primeval forest
(di-gigi rimba) it is Batara Kala, and in the heart of the forest (di hati rimba) it is ’Toh Panjang Kuku,
or “Grandsire Long-Claws.” Similarly “Grandsire Long-Claws” is lord of the shore down to high-
water mark; between that and low-water mark Raja Kala is supreme, and Batara Guru di Laut (Shiva
of the Ocean) from low-water mark out to the open sea. ↑

13 It is very difficult to ascertain the exact relation that ’Toh Mambang Tali Harus (God of Mid-
currents) bears to Batara Guru di Laut. Most probably, however, the God of Mid-currents, whose
powers are less extensive than those of the “Shiva of the Sea,” is an old sea-deity, native to the Malay
(pre-Hindu) religion, and that “Shiva of the Sea” was merely the local Malay adaptation of the Hindu
deity afterwards imported. ↑

14 Vide supra, p. 88, note. Yang bĕrulang ka pusat tasek is the expression applied to Mambang Tali
Harus. ↑
15 Vide supra, pp. 6, 7. ↑

16 It would appear not impossible that Sang Gala may be a corruption of Sangkara, one of the
names of Shiva, which would account at once for the higher rank of this particular spirit, and for his
possession of the titles enumerated above. ↑
17 Vide App. ccxxviii. Another account adds (with) “Black Throat and White Blood,” white blood
being a royal attribute. ↑

18 Their names were (1) Sa-lakun darah (“He of the Blood-pool(?))”; (2) Sa-halilintar (“He of the
Thunderbolt”); (3) Sa-rukup (= rungkup) Rang Bumi (“World-coverer”); (4) Sa-gĕrtak Rang Bumi
(“World-pricker”); (5) Sa-gunchang Rang Bumi (“World-shaker”); (6) Sa-tumbok Rang Bumi
(“World-beater”) and (?) (7) Sa-gĕmpar ʿAlam (“Universe-terrifier”). ↑
19 The magician appears to have interpreted it as Bĕnua ʿajam; but it may be conjectured that this
is a mistaken inference from some expression like Jin ibnu Jan, “Jan,” according to some Arabic
authorities, being the Father of the Genii, or, according to others, a particular class of them who are
capable of being transformed into “Jin.” Vide Hughes, Dict. of Islam, s.v. Genii. ↑

20 Perhaps a corruption of Sartan, the Crab (Cancer) in the Zodiac. ↑
21 The following account of Genii (printed in the Selangor Journal, vol. i. No. 7, p. 102) was given
me by a Mecca pilgrim or “Haji.” This man was a native of Java who had spent several years in the
Malay Peninsula, and as Mecca is the goal of the pilgrimage to all good Muhammadans alike, it is
important to know something of the ideas which are there disseminated, and with which the Malay
pilgrim would be likely to come in contact. “In the unseen world the place of first importance must
be accorded, on account of their immense numbers, to the ‘Jins’ (the ‘Genii’ of the Arabian Nights).”

“The Javanese, drawing a slightly stronger line of distinction (than that of good and bad genii in the
Arabian Nights), call these two (separate) classes the Jin Islam and the Jin Kafir, or the Faithful and
the Infidel. Of these two classes, the former shrink from whatever is unclean, and the latter only will
approach the Chinese, to whom the Jin Islam manifests the strongest repugnance. The good genii are
perfectly formed in the fashion of a man, but are, of course, impalpable as air, though they have a

voice like mortals. They live in a mosque of their own, which they never leave, and where they offer
up unceasing prayers. This mosque is built of stone, and stands beside a lake called ‘Kolam Yamani’;
into this lake the whole of the waters from the neighbouring country drain, and the overflow runs
down to the sea. In this lake the good genii bathe, and if any wicked or childless mortals bathe in it
they carry them off and detain them in the mosque until they (the mortals) have shown proof of their
reformed character by continuing for a long while without committing a wrong action, when they are
sent back in safety to their native land. I should add that the Jin Islam exact tribute from the
unfaithful—e.g. Chinamen—and if they do not receive their due, they will steal it and give it to a son
of Islam. [They may be bought from the “Sheikh Jin” at Mecca for prices varying from $90 to $100
each.]

“The Jin Kafir, or bad genii, are invariably deformed, their heads being always out of their proper
position; in short, they are Othello’s

Men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders.

Their commonest name, ‘Jin isi-isi didalam Dunia’ (the Genii who Fill the World), is owing to the
fact that their enormous numbers fill the whole atmosphere from earth to sky. Like the good Genii,
they cannot die before the great day of judgment, but (unlike them) they are dumb.

“Great as their numbers are they are continually increasing, as they are suffered by God to get
children after their kind. They are imps of mischief, and their whole time is spent in works of malice.
Sometimes when there has been a long drought and a heavy shower of rain is poured down upon the
earth by the angels at the bidding of God to cool the parched verdure, they will assemble their
legions, bringing with them invisible cocoa-nut shells, one for each drop of rain. In these they catch
each rain-drop as it falls, and herbs and trees alike wither for lack of moisture. Then the angels being
wroth, cast thunderbolts upon them out of heaven, and these malicious elves take shelter in tall trees,
which the thunderbolts blast in their fall. At another time they will climb one upon the other’s
shoulders until they reach the sky, when the topmost elf kicks a neighbouring angel, and then they all
fall together with a crash like thunder.” ↑
22 It is probable that the Arabic spirits here mentioned have, as in other cases, taken the place of
native (Malay) spirits to whom similar functions were assigned, but whose names are now lost. ↑

23 There are, besides, one or two partly Arabic expressions which are occasionally used, e.g.
Sidang (or Sĕdang) Saleh, Sidang (or Sĕdang) Mumin. It is probable that “Sidang” in these cases is a
Malay word implying respectability (v. v. d. W. s.v.), so that Sidang Saleh may be translated “Sir
Devout,” and Sidang Mumin, “Sir Faithful.” ↑

24 Hantu and sheitan are generic terms for evil spirits, the former being the Malay term, the latter
Arabic. ↑

25 The Polong is a familiar spirit. ↑
26 The Pontianak and Pĕnanggalan are childbirth spirits (vide pp. 327, 328, infra). ↑

27 The Jin is the genie of the “Arabian Nights” (vide pp. 93–97, supra). ↑
28 The Pelisit or Pĕlĕsit, like the Polong, is a familiar spirit (vide pp. 329–331, infra). ↑

29 The Mambangs are inferior Malay divinities (vide pp. 88 n., 91–93, supra). ↑
30 The Hantu Pĕmburu is the Spectre Huntsman (vide pp. 113–120, infra), for whom Hantu Rimba
is probably a mere synonym. ↑

31 The Jadi-jadian is the Were-tiger (vide pp. 160–163, infra). ↑
32 The Bengkus I have not yet been able to identify. ↑

33 The Bota, Gargasi, and Raksasa (not raksaksa) are giants. ↑
34 The Nenek Kabayan does not appear to be a ghost at all; it may, however, possibly be a rare
synonym for some well-known character in Malay folklore (such as the wife of the Man in the
Moon). It is not so explained in the best Dutch dictionaries, however, but simply as the village
messenger (dorpsbode) who sells flowers and carries lovers’ messages. ↑

35 The Himbasan I have not yet identified. ↑
36 The Sawan (i.e. Hantu Sawan) is the demon or devil which is believed to cause convulsions. ↑

37 The Hantu (orang) mati di-bunoh is the ghost of a murdered man. ↑
38 The Bajang is a familiar spirit (vide pp. 320–325, infra). ↑

39 The Hantu katagoran, sempak-kan, and puput-kan I have not been able to identify, and as the
two last possess the verbal suffix it is clear that each is the name of a state or process and not of a
ghost or demon. In fact, v. d. Wall gives (under sampok), kĕsampokan, which he explains as meaning
“door een’ boozen geest getroffen zijn,” to be attacked or possessed by an evil spirit, which is
doubtless the correcter form of the word. So with puput-kan, which is also a verbal form meaning
(acc. to v. d. W.) “to blow (tr.),” to “sound a wind instrument.” It would seem that ʿAbdullah’s list of
“ghosts” is not very systematically drawn up. ↑
40 The ʿefrit is a spirit of Arabian origin. ↑
41 The Jĕmalang (Jĕmbalang) is a Malay earth-spirit. ↑

42 Tĕrkĕna is a past participial form used of people who are thought to be “struck by” or “affected
by” one of the foregoing demons. ↑

43 Ubat guna is a love-philtre. ↑
44 Gagah (usually pĕnggagah) is the art of making one’s self bold or courageous. ↑

45 Pĕnundok, the art of making one’s enemy yield (tundok). ↑
46 Pĕngasih, the art of making one’s self beloved by another. ↑

47 Kĕbal (pĕngĕbal) the art of making one’s self invulnerable. ↑
48 Kasaktian, the art of acquiring magic powers. ↑

49 Tuju (pĕnuju), the art called “sending.” ↑
50 ʿAlimun, the art of making one’s self invisible. ↑

51 Pĕndĕras, the art of making one’s self swift-footed. ↑
52 Pĕrahuh (a misprint for pĕruah = pĕruang?) that of keeping water at a distance from one’s face
when diving, and also, it is said, of walking on the water without sinking below the ankles. ↑

53 Chucha is, I believe, a love charm. ↑
54 Pĕlali, is the art of numbing or deadening pain. ↑

55 Pĕrangsang, the art of exciting or whetting the temper of the dogs when hunting. ↑
56 Hik. Abdullah, p. 143. [Maxwell in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. ii N. and Q., No. 4, sec. 98.] ↑

57 Newbold, op. cit. vol.ii. p. 191. ↑
58 The name of this demon is probably connected with the Malay dongak, which means to “look
upwards.” It is sometimes identified with the Hantu Pĕmburu, or wild huntsman, who, after hunting
the earth, harked on his dogs through the sky, and whose head, from his continually looking upwards,
became fixed in that position. ↑

59 The Hantu Raya is sometimes said to dwell in the centre of four cross-roads. There is a sea-spirit
of the same name, Si Raya, which should, however, probably be identified with Batara Guru. ↑
60 Malay Sketches, p. 197. ↑

61 The name of this Demon (songkei = sa-ungkei?) is no doubt connected with the Malay ungkei or
rungkei, which means to undo or unloose a knot. The only traps which it is said to interfere with are
snares and rope-traps, and as the most obvious way in which they could be “interfered” with would
be by untying or loosening their knots, the connection between the name of this spirit and the Malay
rungkei to unloose or undo, is sufficiently obvious. The name, therefore, would appear to mean the

“Untying” or “Loosening Demon,” naturally a most vexatious spirit to have anywhere near your
snares or nooses. ↑

CHAPTER V

Magic Rites connected with the Several
Departments of Nature

(a) Air

1. WIND AND WEATHER CHARMS

Not the least important attribute of the Malay magician in former days was
his power of controlling the weather—a power of which Malay magic
incantations still preserve remarkable traces.

Thus when the wind fails and the sails of a boat are flapping (kalau layer
k’lepek-k’lepek), a Selangor magician would not unfrequently summon the
wind in the following terms:—

“Come hither, Sir, come hither, my Lord,
Let down your locks so long and flowing.”

And if the wind is contrary he would say:—

“Veer round, Wind, a needle or twain (of the compass),
A needle to (let me) fetch Kapar.1
However heavy the merchandise that I carry unassisted,
Let me repair to Klang for the (morning) meal,
And Langat for the (evening) bathe.

Come hither, Sir, come hither, my Lord,
And let down your locks so long and flowing.”

Again, if the wind grew violent he would say:—

“Eggs of the House-lizard, Eggs of the Grass-lizard,
Make a trio with Eggs of the Tortoise.
I plant this pole thus in the mid-stream
(That) Wind and Tempest may come to naught.
Let the White (ones) turn into Chalk,
And the Black (one) into Charcoal.2

Sometimes the magician will fasten a rice-spoon (chĕmcha)3 horizontally to
the mast of the vessel, and repeat some such charm as the following:—

“The bird ‘Anggau-anggau’ flies
To perch on the house of Malim Palita.
May you die as you lean, may you die from a push,
May you die by this ‘sending’ of ‘Prince Rice-spoon’s.’”4

Of rain-making ceremonies in Selangor there now remains little but
tradition. Yet a Langat Malay told me that if a Malay woman puts upon her
head an inverted5 earthenware pan (b’langa), and then, setting it upon the
ground, fills it with water and washes the cat in it until the latter is more
than half drowned, heavy rain will certainly ensue.6

On the other hand the recital of the following charm will, it is believed,
effectually stop the heaviest downpour:—

“Though the stem of the Mĕranti tree7 rocks to and fro (in the storm),
Let the Yam leaves be as thick as possible,8
That Rain and Tempest may come to naught.”

With the foregoing should be classed such charms as are used by the
Malays to dispel the yellow sunset glow.9

2. BIRDS AND BIRD CHARMS

The chief features of the Bird-lore of the Peninsular Malays, which, as will
appear in the course of this chapter, is strongly tinged with animism, have
been thus described by Sir William Maxwell:—

“Ideas of various characters are associated by Malays with birds of different
kinds, and many of their favourite similes are furnished by the feathered
world. The peacock strutting in the jungle, the argus pheasant calling on the
mountain peak, the hoot of the owl, and the cry of the night-jar, have all
suggested comparisons of various kinds, which are embodied in the
proverbs of the people.10 The Malay is a keen observer of nature, and his
illustrations, drawn from such sources, are generally just and often poetical.

“The supernatural bird Gerda (Garuda, the eagle of Vishnu), who figures
frequently in Malay romances, is dimly known to the Malay peasant. If,
during the day, the sun is suddenly overcast by clouds and shadow succeeds
to brilliancy, the Pêrak Malay will say “Gerda is spreading out his wings to
dry.”11 Tales are told, too, of other fabulous birds12—the jintayu, which is
never seen, though its note is heard, and which announces the approach of
rain;13 and the chandrawasi, which has no feet. The chandrawasi lives in
the air, and is constantly on the wing, never descending to earth or alighting
on a tree. Its young even are produced without the necessity of touching the
earth. The egg is allowed to drop, and as it nears the earth it bursts, and the
young bird appears fully developed. The note of the chandrawasi may often
be heard at night, but never by day, and it is lucky, say the Malays, to halt at
a spot where it is heard calling.

“There is an allusion to this bird in a common pantun—a kind of erotic
stanza very popular among the Malays:—

“Chandrawasi burong sakti,
Sangat berkurong didalam awan.

Gonda gulana didalam hati,
Sahari tidak memandang tuan.14

“Nocturnal birds are generally considered ill-omened all over the world,
and popular superstition among the Malays fosters a prejudice against one
species of owl. If it happens to alight and hoot near a house, the inhabitants
say significantly that there will soon be ‘tearing of cloth’ (koyah kapan) for
a shroud. This does not apply to the small owl called punggok, which, as
soon as the moon rises, may often be heard to emit a soft plaintive note. The
note of the punggok is admired by the Malays, who suppose it to be sighing
for the moon, and find in it an apt simile for a desponding lover.

“The baberek or birik-birik, another nocturnal bird, is a harbinger of
misfortune. This bird is said to fly in flocks at night; it has a peculiar note,
and a passing flock makes a good deal of noise. If these birds are heard
passing, the Pêrak peasant brings out a sĕngkalan (a wooden platter on
which spices are ground), and beats it with a knife, or other domestic
utensil, calling out as he does so: “Nenek, bawa hati-nia” (“Great-
grandfather, bring us their hearts”). This is an allusion to the belief that the
bird baberek flies in the train of the Spectre Huntsman (hantu pemburu),
who roams Malay forests with several ghostly dogs, and whose appearance
is the forerunner of disease or death. “Bring us their hearts” is a mode of
asking for some of his game, and it is hoped that the request will delude the
hantu pemburu into the belief that the applicants are raʿiyat, or followers of
his, and that he will, therefore, spare the household.

“The baberek,15 which flies with the wild hunt, bears a striking resemblance
to the white owl, Totosel, the nun who broke her vow, and now mingles her
“tutu” with the “holloa” of the Wild Huntsman of the Harz.16

“The legend of the Spectre Huntsman is thus told by the Pêrak Malays:—

“In former days, at Katapang, in Sumatra, there lived a man whose wife,
during her pregnancy, was seized with a violent longing for the meat of the
pelandok (mouse-deer). But it was no ordinary pelandok that she wanted.
She insisted that it should be a doe, big with male offspring, and she bade

her husband go and seek in the jungle for what she wanted. The man took
his weapons and dogs and started, but his quest was fruitless, for he had
misunderstood his wife’s injunctions, and what he sought was a buck
pelandok, big with male offspring, an unheard-of prodigy.

“Day and night he hunted, slaying innumerable mouse-deer, which he threw
away on finding that they did not fulfil the conditions required.

“He had sworn a solemn oath on leaving home that he would not return
unsuccessful, so he became a regular denizen of the forest, eating the flesh
and drinking the blood of the animals which he slew, and pursuing night
and day his fruitless search. At length he said to himself: ‘I have hunted the
whole earth over without finding what I want; it is now time to try the
firmament.’ So he holloa’d on his dogs through the sky, while he walked
below on the earth looking up at them, and after a long time, the hunt still
being unsuccessful, the back of his head, from constantly gazing upwards,
became fixed to his back, and he was no longer able to look down at the
earth. One day a leaf from the tree called Si Limbak fell on his throat and
took root there, and a straight shoot grew upwards in front of his face.19 In
this state he still hunts through Malay forests, urging on his dogs as they
hunt through the sky, with his gaze evermore turned upwards.20

“His wife, whom he left behind when he started on the fatal chase, was
delivered in due time of two children—a boy and a girl. When they were
old enough to play with other children, it chanced one day that the boy
quarrelled with the child of a neighbour with whom he was playing. The
latter reproached him with his father’s fate, of which the child had hitherto
been ignorant, saying: ‘Thou art like thy father, who has become an evil
spirit, ranging the forests day and night, and eating and drinking no man
knows how. Get thee to thy father.’

“Then the boy ran crying to his mother and related what had been said to
him. ‘Do not cry,’ said she, ‘it is true, alas! that thy father has become a
spirit of evil.’ On this the boy cried all the more, and begged to be allowed
to join his father. His mother yielded at last to his entreaties, and told him
the name of his father and the names of the dogs. He might be known, she

said, by his habit of gazing fixedly at the sky and by his four weapons—a
blow-pipe (sumpitan), a spear, a kris, and a sword (klewang). ‘And,’ added
she, ‘when thou hearest the hunt approaching, call upon him and the dogs
by name, and repeat thy own name and mine, so that he may know thee.’

“The boy entered the forest, and, after he had walked some way, met an old
man who asked him where he was going. ‘I go to join my father,’ said the
lad. ‘If thou findest him,’ said the old man, ‘ask him where he has put my
chisel which he has borrowed from me.’ This the boy promised to do, and
continued his journey. After he had gone a long way he heard sounds like
those made by people engaged in hunting. As they approached, he repeated
the names which his mother had told him, and immediately found himself
face to face with his father. The hunter demanded of him who he was, and
the child repeated all that his mother had told him, not forgetting the
message of the old man about the chisel. Then the hunter said: ‘Truly thou
art my son. As for the chisel, it is true that when I started from home I was
in the middle of shaping some bamboos to make steps for the house. I put
the chisel inside one of the bamboos. Take it and return it to the owner.
Return now and take care of thy mother and sister. As for him who
reproached thee, hereafter we will repay him. I will eat his heart and drink
his blood, so shall he be rewarded.’

“From that time forward the Spectre Huntsman has afflicted mankind, and
many are those whom he has destroyed. Before dismissing his son, he
desired him to warn all his kindred never to use bamboo for making steps
for a house, and never to hang clothes to dry from poles stuck in between
the joists supporting the floor, and thus jutting out at right angles with a
house, ‘lest,’ said he, ‘I should strike against such poles as I walk along.
Further,’ he continued, ‘when ye hear the note of the bird birik-birik at
night, ye will know that I am walking near.’

Plate 3.—The Spectre Huntsman.

The Spectre Huntsman (Wild Huntsman) of Malay legend—taken from a model made by a
Selangor Malay. The model shows the Spectre Huntsman himself carrying his spear in the right
hand, and one of his hounds, which is lame, in a wallet at his side. The remainder of his dogs (all
differently coloured) precede him in his search for his quarry.

Page 116.

“Then the boy returned to his mother and delivered to her and all their
kindred the injunctions of the lost man. One account says that the woman
followed her spectre husband to the forest, where she joins in the chase with
him to this day, and that they have there children born in the woods. The
first boy and girl retained their human form, according to this account, but
some Pawangs say that the whole family are in the forest with the father.21

“Numerous mantra, or charms, against the evil influence of the Wild
Huntsman are in use among the Pawangs, or medicine-men of Pêrak. These
are repeated, accompanied by appropriate ceremonies, when the disease

from which some sick person is suffering has been traced to an encounter
with the hantu pemburu.22

“The following may serve as a specimen:—

“Bi-smi-lláhi-r-rahmáni-r-rahim.
Es-salamu ʿaleykum Hei Si Jidi laki Mah Jadah.

Pergi buru ka-rimba Ranchah Mahang.
Katapang nama bukit-nia,
Si Langsat nama anjing-nia,
Si Kumbang nama anjing-nia,
Si Nibong nama anjing-nia,
Si Pintas nama anjing-nia,
Si Aru-Aru nama anjing-nia,
Timiang Balu nama sumpitan-nia,
Lankapuri nama lembing-nia,
Singha-buana nama mata-nia,
Pisau raut panjang ulu
Akan pemblah pinang berbulu.
Ini-lah pisau raut deripada Maharaja Guru,
Akan pemblah prut hantu pemburu.
Aku tahu asal angkau mula menjadi orang Katapang.
Pulang-lah angkau ka rimba Ranchah Mahang.
Jangan angkau meniakat-meniakit pada tuboh badan-ku.

In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful,
Peace be on thee, O Si Jidi, husband of Mah Jadah.

Go thou and hunt in the forest of Ranchah Mahang.
Katapang is the name of thy hill,
Si Langsat is the name of thy dog,
Si Kumbang is the name of thy dog,
Si Nibong is the name of thy dog,
Si Pintas is the name of thy dog,
Si Aru-Aru is the name of thy dog,

Timiang Balu is the name of thy blow-pipe
Lankapuri is the name of thy spear,
Singha-buana is the name of its blade,
The peeling-knife with a long handle
Is to split in twain the fibrous betel-nut.
Here is a knife from Maharaja Guru,
To cleave the bowels of the Hunter-Spirit.
I know the origin from which thou springest,
O man of Katapang.
Get thee back to the forest of Ranchah Mahang.
Afflict not my body with pain or disease.

“In charms intended to guard him who repeats them, or who wears them
written on paper, against the evil influences of the Spectre Huntsman, the
names of the dogs, weapons, etc., constantly vary. The origin of the dreaded
demon is always, however, ascribed to Katapang23 in Sumatra. This
superstition strikingly resembles the European legends of the Wild
Huntsman, whose shouts the trembling peasants hear above the storm. It is,
no doubt, of Aryan origin, and, coming to the Peninsula from Sumatra,
seems to corroborate existing evidence tending to show that it is partly
through Sumatra that the Peninsula has received Aryan myths and Indian
phraseology. A superstitious prejudice against the use of bamboo in making
a step-ladder for a Malay house and against drying clothes outside a house
on poles stuck into the framework, exists in full force among the Pêrak
Malays.

“The note of the birik-birik at night, telling as it does of the approach of the
hantu pemburu, is listened to with the utmost dread and misgiving. The
Bataks in Sumatra call this bird by the same name—birik-birik. It is
noticeable that in Batak legends regarding the creation of the world, the
origin of mankind is ascribed to Putri-Orta-Bulan, the daughter of Batara-
Guru, who descended to the earth with a white owl and a dog.”24

To the information contained in the foregoing passage I would add the
following observations:—

Charms for neutralising the power of the Spectre Huntsman are by no
means uncommon, and though they almost invariably differ in unimportant
details, such as the names of his dogs and weapons, they still bear strong
and unmistakable family likeness. Still there are some versions which
contain important divergencies (two or three of these versions will be found
in the Appendix), and it will only be after the diligent collation and
compilation of a great many versions that the real germ or nucleus of the
myth as known to the Malays will be clearly apparent.

One of the charms given in the Appendix evidently alludes to a different
version of the story; the lines which contain the allusion being as follows:—

“I know your origin, O man of penance,
Whose dwelling was upon the hill of Mount Ophir,
[You sprang] from a son of the Prophet Joseph who was wroth with his
mother,
Because she would eat the hearts of the birds of Paradise.”

Yet even here, if we except the obvious interpolation of the reference to the
“son of the Prophet Joseph,” the task of reconciling the conflicting versions
may be easier than would appear at first sight.25

A still more curious deviation occurs in another version,26 where the
Spectre Huntsman’s poniard and k’ris are declared to be the insignia of the
great Spirit-King Rama. The passage is as follows:—

“With a blind crow as his guide,
The giant demon, Si Adunada,
Carries (his weapons) slung over his shoulder with back bent double.
Salampuri is the name of his poniard (sĕkin),
Silambuara the name of his k’ris,
The insignia of the Demon Rama.”

That it is his weapons which the Spectre Huntsman’s son (Adunada) carries
on his back appears from a passage below, which runs:—

“O Si Adunada, with the sword slung at your back,

Bent double you come from the lightwood swamps,
We did not guess that you were here.”

This reference to Rama opens up a long vista of possibilities, but for the
present it will be sufficient to remark that the Spectre Huntsman himself is
almost universally declared by the Malays to be the King of the Land-folk
(Raja orang darat). It is on account of this kingship that his weapons
receive distinguishing titles such as are given to royal weapons. This, too, is
the reason that he is so much more dreaded by Malays than ordinary spirits
of evil; his mere touch being considered sufficient to kill, by the exercise of
that divine power which all Malay Rajas are held to possess.27

To return from the foregoing digression: there are many other curious
legends connected with Birds. Thus, in 1882, Captain Kelham wrote as
follows:—

“From Mr. W. E. Maxwell, H.M. Assistant Resident, of Lârut, I hear that the
Malays have a strange legend connected with one of the large Hornbills; but
which species I was not able to find out. It is as follows:—

“‘A Malay, in order to be revenged on his mother-in-law (why, the legend
does not relate), shouldered his axe and made his way to the poor woman’s
house, and began to cut through the posts which supported it. After a few
steady chops the whole edifice came tumbling down, and he greeted its fall
with a peal of laughter. To punish him for his unnatural conduct he was
turned into a bird, and the tebang mentuah (literally, He who chopped down
his mother-in-law) may often be heard in the jungle uttering a series of
sharp sounds like the chop of an axe on timber, followed by Ha! ha! ha!’”28

The following account of the bird-lore of the Malay Peninsula was
compiled by me from notes supplied to the Selangor Journal29 by the late
Sir William Maxwell:—

The Night-jar (Burong chĕroh30) takes its name from the word applied to
the second stage in the operation of husking rice. Malay women husk rice
by pounding it in a mortar with a wooden pestle. The husked grain is then

commonly winnowed in a sieve, and the unhusked rice (antah) which
remains has to be separated from the husked rice and pounded over again.
The second process, which is called ckĕroh, is that from which the night-jar
derives its name, the quick fancy of the Malay hearing in the note of the
bird the slow measured stroke of a pestle (antan) descending in a mortar
(lĕsong). This is possibly the foundation of the legend that the Night-jar is a
woman who, while engaged in husking rice by moonlight, was turned into a
bird in consequence of a quarrel with her mother. Another name for the
night-jar is burong chempak.

The Burong sĕpah putri (“Princess’s betel-quid”) belongs to the Honey-
birds or Bee-eaters, of which there are several species, remarkable chiefly
for their brilliant metallic plumage. [A quaint story is told in explanation of
its name: once upon a time the Owl (ponggok) fell in love with the Princess
of the Moon (Pŭtri Bulan) and asked her to marry him. She promised to do
so, if he would allow her first to finish her quid of betel undisturbed; but
before finishing it she threw it down to the earth, where it took the form of
the small bird in question. The Princess then requested the Owl to make
search for it, but as, of course, he was unable to find it, the proposed match
fell through. This is the reason why the Owl, to quote the Malay proverb,
“sighs longingly to the Moon,” and is the type of the plaintive lover.31]

The Burong tinggal anak (lit. “Good-bye, children” bird) is a small bird
whose note is to be heard at the season when the young rice is sprouting
(musim padi pĕchah anak). As soon as her young are hatched out this bird
dies in the nest, repeating the words “Tinggal anak” (“Good-bye,
children”), and the maggots which breed in her corpse afford an unnatural
nourishment to her unsuspecting offspring.

Burong diam ’kau Tuah, or “Hold your peace, Tuah,” is the name of a small
bird which is said to repeat the words—

“Diam ’kau, Tuah,
K’ris aku ada,”

or,

“Hold thy peace, Tuah,
My k’ris (dagger) is with me.”

The story runs that once upon a time there was a man who had a slave
called Tuah, who answered him back, and with whom he accordingly found
fault, using the words given above. In the transport of his rage he was
turned into a bird.

The bird called Kuau in Perak (kuau is the name given in Malacca and
Selangor to the argus pheasant, which in Perak is called kuang) is about the
size of the mynah (gambala kĕrbau), and is said to have been
metamorphosed from a woman, the reason of whose transformation is not
known. It is said to be unknown on the right bank of the Perak River.

The “‘Kap-kap’ bird” is the name of a night-bird of evil omen, whose note
heard at night prognosticates death.

The Tearer of the shroud (Burong charik kapan) is also a night-bird, with a
slow, deliberate note which the Malays declare sounds exactly like the
tearing of cloth.32 This signifies the tearing of the shroud, and unerringly
forebodes death. Yet another night-bird ominous of approaching dissolution
is the Tumbok larong. This bird, like the two preceding, is probably a
variety of owl; the first and third are only found inland at a distance from
the sea.

’Toh katampi (“Old-man-winnow-the-rice-for-the-burial-feast,” as Sir Frank
Swettenham calls him,33) is a species of horned owl, which derives its name
from a word meaning to winnow (tampi, mĕnampi). Malays say that this
bird has a habit of treading upon the extremities of its own wings, and
fluttering the upper part while thus holding them down. This singular habit
produces a sound resembling that of winnowing.

The ’Toh katampi is larger than the Jampuk, another species of owl, which
is popularly supposed to enter the fowl-house and there live on the
intestines of fowls, which it extracts during life by means of a certain charm

(ʿelmu pĕlali, a charm similar to those used by the Malays for filing teeth,
etc.) which it uses in order to perform the operation painlessly.

The “Luck-bird” (Burong untong) is a very small white bird about the size
of a canary. It builds a very small white nest, which if found and placed in a
rice-bin possesses the valuable property of securing a good harvest to its
owner. As, however, the nest is built on branches in places difficult of
access it is but rarely found, and Malays will give $10 for a genuine
specimen, while sellers are known to ask as much as $25.

The Ruwak-ruwak is a kind of Heron whose nest if discovered would give
the possessor the power of becoming invisible (alimun). But as neither nest
nor eggs can usually be found it is held to be childless. Yet, however, if it is
possible to approach sufficiently near, when the bird is heard calling in the
swamps, it may be seen dipping a twig or else its bent leg into the water,
and accompanying its action with its call, as if it were bathing a child on its
knee; hence the Malay who hears its note says mockingly, “the Ruwak-
ruwak is bathing its young one.”

Tukang is the name given in Kedah to a kind of Hornbill, which is believed
to be the same as the langlin of Perak. The horn is of a yellow tinge, and is
made into buttons, which, the Malays say, turn to a livid colour whenever
the wearer is about to fall sick, and black when he is threatened by the
approach of poison.34

The Mĕrbu (? mĕrbok) is a variety of Dove which brings good luck to its
owner. Instances have been known where all the houses in a village have
been burnt except that which contained a mĕrbu; indeed, treatises have been
written on the subject of keeping them. When the mĕrbu dies its body
merely shrivels up instead of breeding worms, which, it is added, would be
worth keeping as curiosities should any appear.35

The bird called Pĕdrudang is a diver which has the power of remaining
under water for a very long time. It is only to be found where the fish called
kĕlĕsah exist in large quantities. The eggs of the kĕlĕsah are of great size,
and the Malays say, therefore, that it cohabits with the pĕdrudang. These

eggs are considered a delicacy by the Malays, who make them into a sort of
custard pudding (s’ri-kaya).

To the Ground-pigeon (Tĕkukur) belongs the following story:—“Once upon
a time there was a maiden who lived in the forest with her parents and little
sister. When she grew up she was troubled by an anxiety to accompany her
father in his expeditions to the forest, where he was engaged in clearing the
ground for a rice-plantation. Her parents, however, persuaded her to stay at
home; first until the trees were felled, then until the fallen timber had been
burnt off, then till the rice had been planted, and then again till it was cut.
When, however, they attempted to put her off yet once more, until the rice
should be trodden out, she could bear it no longer, and taking off her
bracelets and earrings, which she left behind the door, and placing her little
sister in the swinging-cot, she changed herself into a ground-dove and flew
away to the clearing. [She retained her necklace, however, and this accounts
for the speckled marks on this dove’s neck.] On arriving at the spot where
her parents were engaged at work, she alighted on a dead tree stump
(changgong), and called out thrice to her mother, ‘Mother, mother, I have
left my earrings and bracelets behind the door, and have put my little sister
in the swing.’ Her mother, amazed at these words, hastened home, and
found her daughter gone. She then returned to the bird, which repeated the
same words as before, this time, however, concluding with the coo of a
dove. In vain the distressed parents endeavoured to recapture her, by cutting
down the tree on which she had perched; before they had done so she flew
to another, and after following her from tree to tree for several miles they
were obliged to desist, and she was never recaptured.”36

The following notes on birds are taken from a reprint37 of “Museum Notes”
by Mr. L. Wray, jun., the official curator of the Perak Museum. Mr. Wray
says:—

“The Weaver-bird, which makes the long hanging bottle-shaped nests
occasionally seen hanging from the branches of a low tree, is said to use a
golden needle in the work; and it is affirmed that if the nest is carefully
picked to pieces, without breaking any part of it, the needle will be found;
but if it is pulled ruthlessly apart, or if even a single piece of the grass of

which it is made is broken in unravelling it, the golden needle will
disappear. The makers of these curious and beautiful nests are said to
always choose trees that are infested with red ants or wasps, or which grow
in impassable swamps.”

The Weaver-bird (Ploceus Baya, Blyth) is called (in Selangor) Burong
Tĕmpua or Chiak Raya. It is said to use only the long jungle grass called
lalang for making its nest, which latter is called buah rabun, and is used by
the Malays for polishing sheaths and scabbards. When an infant keeps
crying, one of the parents takes the weaver-bird’s nest, reduces it to ashes,
and fumigates the child by thrice moving it round in a circle over the
smoke. Whilst doing so, the parent either stands up with the right toe resting
upon the toe of the left foot, or else squats upon the left heel, bending the
right knee, and saying, ‘As the weaver-bird’s young in its nest, so rest and
weep not’ (Bagimana anak tĕmpua dalam sarang-nya, bagitu-lah ’kau diam
jangan mĕnangis). To the above I may add that besides the ordinary bottle-
shaped nest, the weaver-birds also occasionally make a hood-shaped, or
rather a helmet-shaped nest, which is alleged by the Malays to be the male
bird’s ‘swing’ (buayan). This ‘swing’ resembles the upper half of an
ordinary bottle-shaped nest, with a perch across it, which latter is also
woven of grass. On the walls of the swing, just over each end of the perch,
is a small daub of clay. The Malays allege that the male bird swings in it
while the hen bird is sitting, and that the young too ‘take the air’ in it as
soon as they are able to fly so far. Into the two daubs of mud over the perch
the male bird (say the Malays) sticks fire-flies to give itself light at night.

“The King crow38 is called by the Malays the Slave of the Monkeys
(Burong hamba kra). It is a pretty, active, noisy little bird, incessantly flying
about with its two long racquet-shaped tail feathers fluttering after it. They
say that when it has both of these feathers it has paid off its debt and is free,
but when it is either destitute of these appendages, or has only one, it is still
in bondage.

“The Gray Sea-eagle39 is called Burong hamba siput ‘the Slave of the
Shell-fish,’ and its office is to give warning by screaming to the shell-fish of
the changes of the tide, so that they may regulate their movements, and

those species which crawl about on the mud at low water may know when
to take refuge in the trees and escape the rising tide, or when the tide is
falling, that they may know when to descend to look for food.

“The Burong dĕmam, or ‘Fever bird,’ is so called from its loud, tremulous
note, and the Malays say that the female bird calls in its fever-stricken voice
to its mate to go and find food, because it has fever so badly that it cannot
go itself. This bird is probably one of the large green barbets. The note is
often heard, and doubtless the bird has been collected, but it is one thing
shooting a bird and another identifying it as the producer of a certain note.

“Another bird, the White-breasted Water-hen, a frequenter of the edges of
reedy pools and the marshy banks of streams, is reputed to build a nest on
the ground which has the property of rendering any one invisible who puts
it on his head. The prevailing idea among the Malays is that the proper and
legitimate use to put it to is to steal money and other species of property.”

The next few notes on Malay bird-lore were collected by the writer in
Selangor:—

The Toucan or small Hornbill (Ĕnggang) was metamorphosed from a man
who, in conjunction with a companion, broke into the house of an old man
living by himself in the jungle, and slew him for the sake of his wealth.
When life was extinct they threw a sheet over the body, and proceeded to
ransack the house, throwing the loot into a second sheet close to the corpse.
Day was about to dawn, when a false alarm induced them to make a hurried
departure, so that they picked up the sheet with their loot and made off with
it, carrying it slung hastily upon a pole between them. As they proceeded on
their way day commenced gradually to dawn, and the man behind noticing
something unexpected about the bundle, and divining the cause, called out
to his companion “Orang!” (pr. o rang) “The man!” His companion,
misunderstanding his exclamation, thought he meant that they were pursued
by “a man,” and only went all the faster, until, on hearing his comrade
repeat the cry a second and a third time, he turned round, and there saw the
feet of the man he had murdered protruding from the sheet, a sight which
startled him to such a degree that he turned into a bird upon the spot, and

flew away into a tree, repeating as he went the fatal cry of “O’Rang!
’Rang!” which had caused the transformation. And to this day, whenever
the Malay hears among the tree-tops the cry of “’Rang! ’rang!” he knows
that he is listening to the cry of the murderer.40

The Argus-pheasant41 and the Crow42 in the days of King Solomon were
bosom friends, and could never do enough to show their mutual friendship.
One day, however, the argus-pheasant, who was then dressed somewhat
dowdily, suggested that his friend the crow should show his skill with the
brush by decorating his (the argus-pheasant’s) feathers. To this the crow
agreed, on condition, however, that the arrangement should be mutual. The
argus-pheasant agreed to this, and the crow forthwith set to work, and so
surpassed himself that the argus-pheasant became, as it is now, one of the
most beautiful birds in the world. When the crow’s task was done, however,
the argus-pheasant refused to fulfil his own part of the bargain, excusing
himself on the plea that the day of judgment was too near at hand. Hence a
fierce quarrel ensued, at the end of which the argus-pheasant upset the ink-
bottle over the crow, and thus rendered him coal-black.43 Hence the crow
and the argus-pheasant are enemies to this day.

The bird called “Barau-barau” is said to have once been a bidan (midwife)
whose employers (anak bidan) refused to pay her for her services, and kept
constantly putting her off. Her patience, however, had its limits, and one
day, after experiencing the usual evasion, she broke out into a torrent of
intemperate language, in the midst of which she was changed into a bird,
whose querulous note may be recognised as the voice of the aged woman as
she cries out for the payment of her just wages.

About the big Kingfisher (Pĕkaka) an amusing parallel to the fable of the
Fox and the Crow is related. It is said that this kingfisher once caught a fish,
and flew to a low branch just overhanging the water to devour it. The fish,
seeking for a means to save his life, decided to try the effect of a speech,
and accordingly addressed his captor in the following verses, judiciously
designed to appeal at once to her vanity and compassion:—

“O Kingfisher! Kingfisher!

What a glistening, glittering beak!
Yet while you, Big Sister, are filling your maw,
Little Brother will lose his life.”

At this critical juncture the Kingfisher opens her beak to laugh, and the fish
slips back into his native element and escapes!

Fowling Ceremonies

Ideas of sympathetic magic run very strongly through all ceremonies
connected with the taking of wild birds, such for instance as jungle-fowl or
pigeon.

The commonest method of snaring jungle-fowl is to take a line (called
rachik), with a great number of fine nooses attached to it, and set it so as to
form a complete circle, enclosing an open space in the forest. You must
bring a decoy-bird with you, and the instructions which I collected say that
you should on arriving enter the circle, holding the bird like a fighting cock,
and repeat these lines:—

“Ho, Si Lanang, Si Tĕmpawi,
Come and let us play at cock-fighting
On the border-line between the primary and secondary forest-growth.
Your cock, Grandsire, is spurred with steel.
Mine is but spurred with bamboo.”

Here deposit the bird upon the ground. The challenge of the decoy-bird will
then attract the jungle-fowl from all directions, and as they try to enter the
circle (in order to reach the decoy), they will entangle themselves in the
nooses.

As often as you succeed, however, in catching one, you must be careful to
cast the “mischief” out of it, using the same form of words as is used to

drive the “mischief” out of the carcase of the deer.

The method of catching wild pigeon is much more elaborate, and brings the
animistic ideas of the Malays into strong relief, the “souls” of the wild
pigeon being repeatedly referred to.

Plate 4.—Pigeon Decoy Hut.

Used in snaring wild pigeon.

Page 133.

First you build a small sugar-loaf (conical) hut (called bumbun) in a
carefully selected spot in the jungle. This hut may be from four to five feet
high, is strongly built of stakes converging to a point at the top, and is
thickly thatched with leaves and branches. The reason for making it strong
is that there is always an off-chance that you may receive a visit from a
tiger. At the back of the hut you must leave a small square opening (it can
hardly be dignified with the name of a door), about two feet high and with a

flap to it, through which you can creep into the hut on your hands and
knees. [I may remark, parenthetically, that you will find the hut very damp,
very dark, and very full of mosquitoes, and that if you are wise you will
take with you a small stock of cigarettes.] In front of the hut, that is to say,
on the side away from the door, if you want to proceed in the orthodox way,
you will have to clear a small rectangular space, and put up round it on
three sides (right, left, and front opposite the hut) a low railing consisting of
a single bar about 18 inches from the ground. This is to rail off what is
called “King Solomon’s Palace-yard,” and will also be useful from a
practical point of view, as it will serve as a perch for your “decoy.”44

The instructions proceed as follows:—

Before entering the hut the wizard must go through what is called the
“Neutralising Rice-paste” (tĕpong tawar) ceremony, first in the centre of the
enclosed space, and then in each corner successively, beating each of the
forked sticks (uprights) at the corners with a bunch of leaves. He must then
take the decoy-tube, and after reciting the appropriate charm, sound a long-
drawn note in each corner successively, and then insert the mouth-end of it
into the hut through a hole in the thatch, supporting the heavy outer end
upon a forked upright stick. Then entering the hut, he slips the noose at the
end of the decoy-bird’s rod on to the decoy-bird’s feet, and pushing the bird
out through the front door of the hut, makes it flutter on to one of the
horizontal rods, where it will sit, if well trained, and call its companions.
After a time the decoy-bird’s challenge is met by first one and then many
counter challenges, then the wild pigeon approach, there is a great fluttering
of wings, and presently one of the first arrivals flies down and commences
to walk round and round the hut. Then the wizard awaits his opportunity,
and as the pigeon passes in front of the door he pushes out one of the rods
with a noose at the end, slips the noose over the bird’s neck or feet, and
drags it into the hut.

The hut must be used, if possible, before the leaves with which it is
thatched have faded, as the wild pigeon are less likely to be suspicious of
the hut when its thatch is green.

In the way just described any number of pigeon can be taken, a bag of
twenty or thirty being a fair average for a day’s work under favourable
conditions.

The “call” will occasionally, for some unexplained reason, attract to the
spot wild animals such as deer (especially mouse-deer) and tigers. Is it not
possible that the story of the lute of Orpheus may have had its origin in
some old hunting custom of the kind?

The following are specimens of the charms used by the wizard:—

When you are about to start (to decoy pigeons) say—

“It is not I who am setting out,
It is ’Toh Bujang Sibor45 who is setting out.”

Then sound the decoy-tube (buluh dĕkut) thrice loudly, and say—

“I pray that they (the pigeons) may come in procession, come in succession,
To enter into this bundle46 of ours.”

Now set out, and when you reach the conical hut (bumbun) say—

“My hut’s name is the Magic Prince,
My decoy’s name is Prince Distraction,
Distraught be ye, O Kapor47 (pigeon),
Distraught be ye, O Puding47 (pigeon),
Distraught be ye, O Sarap47 (pigeon),
Distraught (with desire) to enter our bundle.”

Or else when you first reach the hut, “take the (leaves of) the branch of a
tree which is as high as your head, the leaves of the branch of a tree which
is as high as your waist, the leaves of the branch of a tree which is as high
as your knee, and the leaves of a tree which is only as high as your ankle-
joint. Make them all into a bunch, and with them “flick” the outside of the
hut, saying these lines—

“Dok Ding [stands for the] ‘Do’ding’ Pigeon,
Which makes three with the Madukara Pigeon,
The twig breaks, and the twig is pressed down,
And our immemorial customs are restored.”

When scattering the rice, say—

“Sift, sift the broken rice-ends,
Sift them over the rush-work rice-bag,
As one disappears another is invited,
Invited and brought down.
If you descend not, the Bear-cat (Binturong) shall devour you,
If you come not, wild beasts shall devour you,
And if you perch on a twig, you shall fall headlong,
If you perch on a bough, you shall be killed by a woodcutter,
If you perch on a leaf, you shall be bitten by the leaf-snake,
If you descend to the ground, you shall be bitten by a venomous serpent,
If you fly upwards, you shall be swooped upon by kites and eagles,
(That is) if you descend not.
Cluck, cluck! souls of Queen Kapor, of Princess Puding, and Handmaid
Sarap.
Come down and assemble in King Solomon’s audience-hall,
And put on King Solomon’s breast-ornaments and armlets.”

When sprinkling the rice-paste (tĕpong tawar) on the uprights at each
corner of the railed-off enclosure, say—

“Neutralising rice-paste, genuine rice-paste,
Add plumpness to plumpness,
Let pigeon come down to the weight of thousands of pounds,
And alight upon the Ivory Hall,
Which is carpeted with silver, and whose railings are of amalgam,
Unto the dishes of Her Highness Princess Lebar Nyiru (Broad-sieve).
Come in procession, come (in succession),
The ‘assembly-flower’ begins to unfold its petals,
Come down in procession, come down as stragglers,

King Solomon’s self has come to call you.
Sift, sift (the rice) over the rice-bag,
King Solomon’s self bids you haste.
Sift, sift the rice-ends,
Sift them over the rush-work bag.
As one disappears another is invited,
Is invited and escorted down.
Sift, sift the rice-ends,
Sift them over the salt-bag,
As one disappears another is invited,
And escorted inside (the hut).”

When you are sounding the call (mĕlaung), stand in the middle of the
enclosure and say:—

“Cluck, cluck! soul of Princess Puding, of Queen Kapor, and Queen Sarap,
Enter ye into our Bundle,
And perch upon the Ivory Railing.
Come in procession, come in succession,
The assembly-flower unfolds its petals.
Come down in procession, come down in succession,
King Solomon’s self is come to call you.
If you do not come down, the Bear-cat shall eat you,
If you do not appear, wild beasts shall devour you,
If you perch upon a twig, you shall fall headlong
(All over) the seven valleys and seven knolls of rising ground.
If ye go to the hills, ye shall get no food;
If ye go to the forest-pools, ye shall get no drink.”

Or else the following:—

“Cut the mĕngkudu48 branch,
Cut it (through) and thrust it downwards.
Let those which are near be the first to arrive,
And those which are far off be sent for,
Let those which have eggs, leave their eggs,

And those which have young, desert their young,
Let those which are blind, come led by others,
And those which have broken limbs, come on crutches.
Come and assemble in King Solomon’s audience-hall.
Cluck, cluck! souls of Queen Kapor, Princess Puding, Handmaid Sarap,
Come down and assemble in King Solomon’s audience-hall,
And put on King Solomon’s necklace (breast-ornaments) and armlets.”49

When about to enter the hut say—

“[Hearken], O Hearts of Wild Doves,
Cut we the Rod of Invitation,
This hut is named the Magic Prince,
This tube is named Prince Distraction,
Distraught (be ye) by day, distraught by night,
Distraught (with longing) to assemble in King Solomon’s Hall,
Cluck, cluck! souls of Queen Kapor,” etc. (as before).50

When you have just entered, and before you seat yourself, say—

“Sift, sift the rice-ends,
Sift them over a rush-work rice-bag,” etc. (as before).

Put your lips to the decoy-tube, and sound the call, saying—

“Cut the mĕngkudu stem;
Cut it (through) and thrust it downwards,” etc. (as before).

(or else some longer version, such as one of those given in the Appendix).
When the wild pigeon have arrived and have entered the enclosure or
“Palace-yard,” wait till they are in a good position, and then push out one of
the rods with the fine noose at the end, slip the noose over the bird’s neck,
and drag it into the house, saying as you do so—

“Wak-wak [stands for] a heron on the kitchen shelf,
Covered over with the top of a cocoa-nut shell,
Do you move aside, Sir Bachelor, Master of the Ceremonies,

I wish to ensnare the necks of the race of wild doves.”

Now that you understand the process of decoying pigeon with a pigeon-call,
I must explain something of the curious nomenclature used by the wizard;
for during the ceremony you must never call a spade a spade. In the first
place, the hut must not on any account be mentioned as such: it is to be
called the Magic Prince—why so called, it is hard to say, but most likely the
name is used in allusion to the wizard who is concealed inside it. The name
given to the calling-tube itself is more appropriate, as it is called “Prince
Distraction” (Raja Gila), this name of course being an allusion to the
extraordinary fascination which it evidently exercises on the pigeon. Then
the decoy (or rather, perhaps, the rod to which it is linked) is called Pŭtri
Pĕmonggo’, or the Squatting Princess. Next to these come three Princesses
which prove to be merely the representatives of three important species of
wild pigeon. Their names, though variously given, are perhaps most
commonly known as Princess “Kapor,” Princess “Sarap,” and Princess
“Puding.”

Finally, even the rod used for ensnaring the pigeon has its own special
name, Si Raja Nyila (Prince Invitation).

“King Solomon’s necklaces” and armlets are of course the nooses with
which they are to be snared, and which will catch them either by the neck or
by the leg.

The Princesses are invited to enter a gorgeous palace:—

“Come down, pigeons, in your myriads,
And perch upon the ‘Ivory Hall,’
(That is) carpeted with silver, and railed with amalgam,
(Come down) to the dishes of Her Highness Princess Lebar Nyiru (Broad-
sieve).”51

The “dishes of Her Highness Princess Broad-sieve” cleverly suggest an
abundance of provender such as is likely to appeal to a hungry bird!

In another version the three Princesses are invited to enter the “Palace
Tower” called “Fatimah Passes” (Mahaligei Fatimah Lalu).

Moreover those who issue the invitation are no respecters of persons:—

“Let those which are near, arrive the first,
Let those which are far off be sent for,
Let those which have eggs, leave their eggs,
Those which have young, leave their young,
Those which are blind, be led by others,
Those which have broken limbs, come on crutches;
Come and assemble in King Solomon’s Audience-Chamber.”52

And a similar passage in another charm says—

“Let those which are near, arrive the first,
Let those which are far off be sent for,
Cluck! cluck! souls of the children of forest doves,
Come ye down and assemble together
In the fold of God and King Solomon.”

If blandishments fail, however, there is to be no doubt about the
punishments in store for their wilful Highnesses: thus, a little later, we find
the alternative, a thoroughgoing imprecation calculated to “convince” the
most headstrong of birds:—

“I call you, I fetch you down,
If you come not down you shall be eaten by the Bear-cat,
You shall be choked to death with your own feathers,
You shall be choked to death with a bone in your throat.
If you perch on a creeper you shall be entangled by it,
If you settle on a leaf you shall be bitten by the ‘leaf snake,’
Come you down quickly to God’s fold and King Solomon’s.”

And an imprecation of similar import says—

“[If you do not come down, the Bear-cat shall eat you],

If you perch on a bough, you shall slip off it,
If you perch on a creeper, you shall slide off it,
If you perch upon a leafless stump, the stump shall fall;
If you settle on the ground, the ground-snake shall bite you,
If you soar up to heaven, the eagle shall swoop upon you.”

(b) Earth

1. BUILDING CEREMONIES AND CHARMS

The first operation in building is the selection of the site. This is determined
by an elaborate code of rules which make the choice depend—firstly, upon
the nature of the soil with respect to colour, taste, and smell; secondly, upon
the formation of its surface; and, thirdly, upon its aspect:—

“The best soil, whether for a house, village, orchard, or town, is a greenish
yellow, fragrant-scented, tart-tasting loam: such a soil will ensure
abundance of gold and silver unto the third generation.53

“The best site, whether for a house, village, orchard, or town, is level.54

“The best aspect (of the surface) is that of land which is low upon the north
side and high upon the south side: such a site will bring absolute
peacefulness.”55

When you have found a site complying with more or less favourable
conditions, in accordance with the code, you must next clear the ground of
forest or undergrowth, lay down four sticks to form a rectangle in the centre
thereof, and call upon the name of the lords of that spot (i.e. the presiding
local deities or spirits). Now dig up the soil (enclosed by the four sticks),
and taking a clod in your hand, call upon the lords of that spot as follows:—

“Ho, children of Mĕntri56 Guru,
Who dwell in the Four Corners of the World,
I crave this plot as a boon.”

(Here mention the purpose to which you wish to put it.)

“If it is good, show me a good omen,
If it is bad, show me a bad omen.”57

Wrap the clod up in white cloth, and after fumigating it with incense, place
it at night beneath your pillow, and when you retire to rest repeat the last
two lines of the above charm as before and go to sleep. If your dream is
good proceed with, if bad desist from, your operations. Supposing your
dream to be “good,” you must (approximately) clear the site of the main
building and peg out the four corners with dead sticks; then take a dead
branch and heap it up lightly with earth (in the centre of the site?); set fire
to it, and when the whole heap has been reduced to ashes, sweep it all up
together and cover it over while you repeat the charm (which differs but
little from that given above). Next morning uncover it early in the morning
and God will show you the good and the bad.

The site being finally selected, you must proceed to choose a day for
erecting the central house-post, by consulting first the schedule of lucky and
unlucky months, and next the schedule of lucky and unlucky days of the
week.58

[The best time of day for the operation to take place is said to be always
seven o’clock in the morning. Hence there seems to be no need to consult a
schedule to discover it, though some magicians may do so.]

The propitious moment having been at last ascertained, the erection of the
centre-post will be proceeded with. First, the hole for its reception must be
dug (the operation being accompanied by the recital of a charm) and the
post erected, the greatest precautions being taken to prevent the shadow of
any of the workers from falling either upon the post itself or upon the hole
dug to receive it, sickness and trouble being otherwise sure to follow.59

[The account in the Appendix, of which the above is a résumé, omits to
describe the sacrifice which has to be made before the erection of the
centre-post, which has therefore been drawn from the instructions of other
magicians.]

“When the hole has been dug and before the centre-post is actually erected,
some sort of sacrifice or offering has to be made. First you take a little
brazilwood (kayu sĕpang), a little ebony-wood (kayu arang), a little
assafœtida (inggu), and a little scrap-iron (tahi bĕsi), and deposit them in
the hole which you have dug. Then take a fowl,60 a goat, or a buffalo
[according to the ascertained or reputed malignity of the locally presiding
earth-demon (puaka)], and cut its throat according to Muhammadan
custom, spilling its blood into the hole. Then cut off its head and feet, and
deposit them within the hole to serve as a foundation for the centre-post to
rest upon (buat lapik tiang s’ri). Put a ring on your little finger out of
compliment to the earth-spirit (akan mĕmbujok jĕmbalang itu), repeat the
charm61 and erect the post.”62

Another form of the above ceremony was described to me by a magician as
follows:—

“Deposit in the hole a little scrap-iron and tin-ore, a candle nut (buah k’ras
or buah gorek), a broken hatchet head (b’liong patah), and a cent (in
copper). Wait till everybody else has returned home, and, standing close to
the hole, pick up three clods (kĕpal) of earth, hold them (gĕnggam) over the
incense, turn ‘right-about-face’ and repeat the charm.63 Then take the three
clods home (without once turning round to look behind you till you reach
home), place them under your sleeping pillow and wait till nightfall, when
you may have either a good or a bad dream. If the first night’s dream be
bad, throw away one of the clods and dream again. If the second night’s
dream be bad, repeat the process, and whenever you get a good dream
deposit the clod or clods under the butt-end of the centre-post to serve as a
foundation.”

A magician gave me this specimen of a charm used at this ceremony (of
erecting the centre-post):—

“Ho, Raja Guru, Maharaja Guru,
You are the sons of Batara Guru.
I know the origin from which you spring,
From the Flashing of Lightning’s spurs;
I know the origin from which you spring,
From the Brightening of Daybreak.
Ho, Spectre of the Earth, Brains of the Earth, Demon of the Earth,
Retire ye hence to the depths of the Ocean,
To the peace of the primeval forest.
Betwixt you and me
Division was made by Adam.”

Another rule of importance in house-building is that which regulates the
length of the threshold, as to which the instructions are as follows:—

“Measure off (on a piece of string) the stretch (fathom) of the arms of her
who is to be mistress of the proposed house. Fold this string in three and cut
off one third. Take the remainder, fold it in eight and cut off seven-eighths.
Take the remaining eighth, see how many times it is contained in the length
of the threshold, and check off the number (of these measurements) against
the “category” (bilangan) of the “eight beasts”64 (bĕnatang yang d’lapan).
This category runs as follows:—(1) The dragon (naga); (2) the dairy-cow
(sapi); (3) the lion (singa); (4) the dog (anjing); (5) the draught-cow
(lĕmbu); (6) the ass (kaldei); (7) the elephant (gajah), and (8) the crow
(gagak), all of which have certain ominous significations. If the last
measurement coincides with one of the unlucky beasts in the category, such
as the crow (which signifies the death of the master of the house), the
threshold is cut shorter to make it fit in with one that is more auspicious.”65

The names of the “eight beasts,” coupled with the events which they are
supposed to foreshadow, are often commemorated in rhyming stanzas.

Here is a specimen:—

I.—The Dragon (naga).

“A dragon of bulk, a monster dragon,
Is this dragon that turns round month by month.66
Wherever you go you will be safe from stumbling-blocks,
And all who meet you will be your friends.”

II.—The Dairy-Cow (sapi).

“There is the smoke of a fire in the forest,
Where Inche ʿAli is burning lime;
They were milking the young dairy-cow,
And in the midst of the milking it sprawled and fell down dead.”

III.—The Lion (singa).

“A lion of courage, a lion of valour,
Is the lion gambolling at the end of the Point.
The luck of this house will be lasting,
Bringing you prosperity from year to year.”

IV.—The Dog (anjing).

“The wild dog, the jackal,
Barks at the deer from night to night;
Whatever you do will be a stumbling-block;
In this house men will stab one another.”

V.—The Draught-Cow (lĕmbu).

“The big cow from the middle of the clearing
Has gone to the Deep Forest to calve there.
Great good luck will be your portion.
Never will you cease to be prosperous.”

VI.—The Ass (kaldei).

“The ass within the Fort
Carries grass from morn to eve;

Whatever you pray for will not be granted,
Though big your capital, the half will be lost.”

VII.—The Elephant (gajah).

“The big riding elephant of the Sultan
Has its tusks covered with amalgam.
Good luck is your portion,
No harm or blemish will you suffer.”

VIII.—The Crow (gagak).

“A black crow soaring by night
Has perched on the house of the great Magic Prince;
Great indeed is the calamity which has happened:
Within the house its master lies dead.”

In close connection with the ceremonies for the selection of individual
house sites are the forms by which the princes of Malay tradition selected
sites for the towns which they founded. The following extract will perhaps
convey some idea of their character:—

“One day Raja Marong Maha Podisat went into his outer audience hall,
where all his ministers, warriors, and officers were in attendance, and
commanded the four Mantris to equip an expedition with all the necessary
officers and armed men, and with horses and elephants, arms and
accoutrements. The four Mantris did as they were ordered, and when all
was ready they informed the Raja. The latter waited for a lucky day and an
auspicious moment, and then desired his second son to set out. The Prince
took leave after saluting his father and mother, and all the ministers,
officers, and warriors who followed him performed obeisance before the
Raja. They then set out in search of a place of settlement, directing their
course between south and east, intending to select a place with good soil,
and there to build a town with fort, moat, palace, and balei.67 They amused
themselves in every forest, wood, and thicket through which they passed,

crossing numbers of hills and mountains, and stopping here and there to
hunt wild beasts, or to fish if they happened to fall in with a pool or lake.

“After they had pursued their quest for some time they came to the tributary
of a large river which flowed down to the sea. Farther on they came to a
large sheet of water, in the midst of which were four islands. The Prince
was much pleased with the appearance of the islands, and straightway took
a silver arrow and fitted it to his bow named Indra Sakti, and said: ‘O arrow
of the bow Indra Sakti, fall thou on good soil in this group of islands;
wherever thou mayest chance to fall, there will I make a palace in which to
live.’ He then drew his bow and discharged the arrow, which flew upwards
with the rapidity of lightning, and with a humming sound like that made by
a beetle as it flies round a flower, and went out of sight. Presently it came in
sight again, and fell upon one of the islands, which on that account was
called Pulau Indra Sakti. On that spot was erected a town with fort, palace,
and balei, and all the people who were living scattered about in the vicinity
were collected together and set to work on the various buildings.”68

Even in the making of roads through the forest it would appear that
sacrificial ceremonies are not invariably neglected. On one occasion I came
upon a party of Malays in the Labu jungle who were engaged in making a
bridle-track for the Selangor Government. A small bamboo censer, on
which incense had been burning, had been erected in the middle of the
trace; and I was informed that the necessary rites (for exorcising the
demons from the trace) had just been successfully concluded.

2. BEASTS AND BEAST CHARMS

All wild animals, more especially the larger and more dangerous species,
are credited in Malay folklore with human or (occasionally) superhuman
powers.

In the pages which now follow I shall deal with the folklore which refers to
the more important animals, first pointing out their anthropomorphic traits,

then detailing some of the more important traditions about them, and
finally, where possible, describing the methods of hunting them.

The Elephant

Of the Elephant we read:—

“The superstitious dread entertained by Malays for the larger animals is the
result of ideas regarding them which have been inherited from the primitive
tribes of Eastern Asia. Muhammadanism has not been able to stamp out the
deep-rooted feelings which prompted the savage to invest the wild beasts
which he dreaded with the character of malignant deities. The tiger,
elephant, and rhinoceros69 were not mere brutes to be attacked and
destroyed. The immense advantages which their strength and bulk gave
them over the feebly-armed savage of the most primitive tribes naturally
suggested the possession of supernatural powers; and propitiation, not
force, was the system by which it was hoped to repel them. The Malay
addresses the tiger as Datoh (grandfather), and believes that many tigers are
inhabited by human souls. Though he reduces the elephant to subjection,
and uses him as a beast of burden, it is universally believed that the
observance of particular ceremonies, and the repetition of prescribed
formulas, are necessary before wild elephants can be entrapped and tamed.
Some of these spells and charms (mantra) are supposed to have
extraordinary potency, and I have in my possession a curious collection of
them, regarding which, it was told me seriously by a Malay, that in
consequence of their being read aloud in his house three times all the hens
stopped laying! The spells in this collection are nearly all in the Siamese
language, and there is reason to believe that the modern Malays owe most
of their ideas on the subject of taming and driving elephants to the Siamese.
Those, however, who had no idea of making use of the elephant, but who
feared him as an enemy, were doubtless the first to devise the idea of

influencing him by invocations. This idea is inherited, both by Malays and
Siamese, from common ancestry.”70

To the above evidence (which was collected by Sir W. E. Maxwell no doubt
mainly in Perak) I would add that at Labu, in Selangor, I heard on more
than one occasion a story in which the elephant-folk were described as
possessing, on the borders of Siam, a city of their own, where they live in
houses like human beings, and wear their natural human shape. This story,
which was first told me by Ungku Said Kĕchil of Jĕlĕbu, was taken down
by me at the time, and ran as follows:—

“A Malay named Laboh went out one day to his rice-field and found that
elephants had been destroying his rice.

“He therefore planted caltrops of a cubit and a half in length in the tracks of
the offenders. That night an elephant was wounded in the foot by one of the
caltrops, and went off bellowing with pain.

“Day broke and Laboh set off on the track of the wounded elephant, but lost
his way, and after three days and nights journeying, found himself on the
borders of a new and strange country. Presently he encountered an old man,
to whom he remarked ‘Hullo, grandfather, your country is extraordinarily
quiet!’ The old man replied, ‘Yes, for all noise is forbidden, because the
king’s daughter is ill.’ ‘What is the matter with her?’ asked Si Laboh. The
old man replied that she had trodden upon a caltrop. Si Laboh then asked,
‘May I see if I can do anything to help her?’

“The old man then went and reported the matter to the king, who ordered Si
Laboh to be brought into his presence.

“[Now the country which Si Laboh had reached was a fine open country on
the borders of Siam. It is called ‘Pak Hĕnang,’ and its only inhabitants are
the elephant-people who live there in human guise. And whoever trespasses
over the boundaries of that country turns into an elephant.]

“Then Si Laboh saw that the king’s daughter, whose name was Princess
Rimbut, was suffering from one of the caltrops which he himself had

planted. He therefore extracted it from her foot, so that she recovered, and
the king, in order to reward Si Laboh, gave him the Princess in marriage.

“Now when they had been married a long time, and had got two children, Si
Laboh endeavoured to persuade his wife to accompany him on a visit to his
own country. To this the Princess replied ‘Yes; but if I go you must promise
never to add to the dish any young tree-shoots at meal-time.’71

“On this they started, and at the end of the first day’s journey they halted
and sat down to eat. But Si Laboh had forgotten the injunctions of his wife,
and put young tree-shoots into the dish with his rice. Then his wife
protested and said, ‘Did I not tell you not to put young tree-shoots into your
food?’ But Si Laboh was obstinate, and merely replied, ‘What do I care?’ so
that his wife was turned back into an elephant and ran off into the jungle.
Then Si Laboh wept and followed her, but she refused to return as she had
now become an elephant. Yet he followed her for a whole day, but she
would not return to him, and he then returned homewards with his children.

“This is all that is known about the origin of elephants who are human
beings.”

A Malay charm which was given me (at Labu) to serve as a protection
against elephants (pĕndinding gajah) gives the actual name of the Elephant
King—

“O Grandfather Moyang Kaban,
Destroy not your own grandchildren.”

Ghost elephants (gajah kramat) are not uncommon. They are popularly
believed to be harmless, but invulnerable, and are generally supposed to
exhibit some outward and visible sign of their sanctity, such as a stunted
tusk or a shrunken foot. They are the tutelary genii of certain localities, and
when they are killed the good fortune of the neighbourhood is supposed to
depart too. Certain it is, that when one of these ghost elephants was shot at
Klang a year or two ago, it did not succumb until some fifty or sixty rifle-
bullets had been poured into it, and its death was followed by a fall in the

local value of coffee and coffee land, from which the district took long to
recover.72

A ghost elephant is very often thought to be the guardian spirit of some
particular shrine—an idea that is common throughout the Peninsula.

Other general ideas about the elephant are as follows:—

“Elephants are said to be very frightened if they see a tree stump that has
been felled at a great height from the ground, as some trees which have high
spreading buttresses are cut, because they think that giants must have felled
it, and as ordinary-sized men are more than a match for them they are in
great dread of being caught by creatures many times more powerful than
their masters. Some of the larger insects of the grasshopper kind are
supposed to be objects of terror to elephants, while the particularly harmless
little pangolin (Manis pentadactyla) is thought to be able to kill one of these
huge beasts by biting its foot. The pangolin, by the bye, is quite toothless.
Another method in which the pangolin attacks and kills elephants is by
coiling itself tightly around the end of the elephant’s trunk, and so
suffocating it. This idea is also believed in by the Singhalese, according to
Mr. W. T. Hornaday’s Two Years in the Jungle.”73

The foregoing passage refers to Perak, but similar ideas are common in
Selangor, and they occur no doubt, with local variations, in every one of the
Malay States. Selangor Malays tell of the scaring of elephants by the
process of drawing the slender stem of the bamboo down to the ground and
cutting off the top of it, when it springs back to its place.

The story of the “pangolin” is also told in Selangor with additional details.
Thus it is said that the “Jawi-jawi” tree (a kind of banyan) is always
avoided by elephants because it was once licked by the armadillo. The
latter, after licking it, went his way, and “the elephant coming up was
greatly taken aback by the offensive odour, and swore that he would never
go near the tree again. He kept his oath, and his example has been followed
by his descendants, so that to this day the ‘Jawi-jawi’ is the one tree in the
forest which the elephant is afraid to approach.”74

The following directions for hunting the elephant were given me by Lĕbai
Jamal, a famous elephant hunter of Lingging, near the Sungei Ujong border:
—

“When you first meet with the spoor of elephant or rhinoceros, observe
whether the foot-hole contains any dead wood, (then) take the twig of dead
wood, together with a ball of earth as big as a maize-cob taken from the
same foot-hole (if there is only one of you, one ball will do, if there are
three of you, three balls will be wanted, if seven, seven balls, but not more).
Then roll up your ball of earth and the twig together in a tree-leaf, breathe
upon it, and recite the charm (for blinding the elephant’s eyes), the purport
of which is that if the quarry sees, its eyesight shall be destroyed, and if it
looks, its eyesight shall be dimmed, by the help of God, the prophet, and the
medicine-man, who taught the charm.

“Now slip your ball of earth into your waistband just over the navel, and
destroy the scent of your body and your gun. To do this, take a bunch of
certain leaves75 (daun sa-chĕrek), together with stem-leaves of the betel-
vine (kĕrapak sirih), leaves of the wild camphor (chapa), and leaves of the
club-gourd (labu ayer puteh), break their midribs with your left hand, shut
your eyes, and say ‘As these tree leaves smell, so may my body (and gun)
be scented.’

“When the animal is dead, beat it with an end of black cloth, repeating the
charm for driving away the ‘mischief’ (badi) from the carcase, which charm
runs as follows:—

“Badiyu, Mother of Mischief, Badi Panji, Blind Mother,
I know the origin from which you sprang,76
Three drops of Adam’s blood were the origin from which you sprang,
Mischief of Earth, return to Earth,
Mischief of Ant-heap, return to Ant-heap,
Mischief of Elephant, return to Elephant,77
Mischief of Wood, return to Wood,
Mischief of Water, return to Water,
Mischief of Stone, return to Stone

And injure not my person.
By the virtue of my Teacher,
You may not injure the children of the race of Man.”

The perquisites of the Pawang (magician) are to be “a little black cloth and
a little white cloth,” and the only special taboo mentioned by Lĕbai Jamal
was “on no account to let the naked skin rub against the skin of the slain
animal.”

Before leaving the subject of elephants, I may add that Raja Jaʿfar (of
Beranang in Selangor) told me that Lĕbai Jamal, when charged by an
elephant or rhinoceros, would draw upon the ground with his finger a line
which the infuriated animal was never able to cross. This line, he said, was
called the Baris Laksamana, or the “Admiral’s Line,” and the knowledge of
how to draw it was naturally looked upon as a great acquisition.

The Tiger

“The Tiger is sometimes believed to be a man or demon in the form of a
wild beast, and to the numerous aboriginal superstitions which attach to this
dreaded animal Muhammadanism has added the notion which connects the
Tiger with the Khalif Ali. One of Ali’s titles throughout the Moslem world
is ‘the Victorious Lion of the Lord,’ and in Asiatic countries, where the lion
is unknown, the tiger generally takes the place of the ‘king of beasts.’”78

But the anthropomorphic ideas of the Malays about the Tiger go yet farther
than this. Far away in the jungle (as I have several times been told in
Selangor) the tiger-folk (no less than the elephants) have a town of their
own, where they live in houses, and act in every respect like human beings.
In the town referred to their house-posts are made of the heart of the Tree-
nettle (t’ras jĕlatang), and their roofs thatched with human hair—one
informant added that men’s bones were their only rafters, and men’s skins
their house walls—and there they live quietly enough until one of their

periodical attacks of fierceness (mĕngganas) comes on and causes them to
break bounds and range the forest for their chosen prey.

There are several of these tiger-villages or “enclosures” in the Peninsula,
the chief of them being Gunong Ledang (the Mount Ophir of Malacca), just
as Pasummah is the chief of such localities in Sumatra.79 So too, from
Perak, Sir W. E. Maxwell writes in 1881:—

“A mischievous tiger is said sometimes to have broken loose from its pen or
fold (pĕchah kandang). This is in allusion to an extraordinary belief that, in
parts of the Peninsula, there are regular enclosures where tigers possessed
by human souls live in association. During the day they roam where they
please, but return to the kandang at night.”80

Various fables ascribe to the tiger a human origin. One of these, taken down
by me word for word from a Selangor Malay, is intended to account for the
tiger’s stripes. The gist of it ran as follows:—

“An old man picked up a boy in the jungle with a white skin, green eyes,
and very long nails. Taking the boy home his rescuer named him
Muhammad Yatim (i.e. ‘Muhammad the fatherless’), and when he grew up
sent him to school, where he behaved with great cruelty to his
schoolfellows, and was therefore soundly beaten by his master (’Toh Saih
Panjang Janggut, i.e. ’Toh Saih Long-beard), who used a stick made of a
kind of wood called los81 to effect the chastisement. At the first cut the boy
leapt as far as the doorway; at the second he leapt to the ground, at the third
he bounded into the grass, at the fourth he uttered a growl, and at the fifth
his tail fell down behind him and he went upon all fours, whereat his master
(improvising a name to curse him by), exclaimed, ‘This is of a truth God’s
tiger! (Harimau Allah). Go you,’ he added, addressing the tiger, ‘to the
place where you will catch your prey—the borderland between the primeval
forest and the secondary forest-growth, and that between the secondary
forest-growth and the plain—catch there whomsoever you will, but see that
you catch only the headless. Alter no jot of what I say, or you shall be
consumed by the Iron of the Regalia, and crushed by the sanctity of the
thirty divisions of the Korān.’” Hence the tiger is to this day compelled to

“ask for” his prey, and uses divination (bĕrtĕnung), as all men know, for the
purpose of discovering whether his petition has yet been granted.

Hence, too, he carries on his hide to this very day the mark of the stripes
with which he was beaten at school.

The method of divination said to be practised by the tiger is as follows: The
tiger lies down and gazes (bĕrtĕnung) at leaves which he takes between his
paws, and whenever he sees the outline of a leaf take the shape of one of his
intended victims, without the head, he knows it to be the sign that that
victim has been “granted” to him, in accordance with the very terms of his
master’s curse.

I once asked (at Labu) how it was known that the tiger used divination, and
was told this story of a man who had seen it:—

“A certain Malay had been working, together with his newly-married wife,
in the rice-fields at Labu, and on his stepping aside at noon into the cool of
the forest, he saw a tiger lying down among the underwood apparently
gazing at something between its paws. By creeping stealthily nearer he was
able at length to discern the object at which the tiger was gazing, and it
proved to be, to his intense horror, a leaf which presented the lineaments of
his wife, lacking only the head. Hurrying back to the rice-field he at once
warned the neighbours of what he had seen, and implored them to set his
wife in their midst and escort her homeward. To this they consented, but
yet, in spite of every precaution, the tiger broke through the midst of them
and killed the woman before it could be driven off. The bereaved husband
thereupon requested them to leave him alone with the body and depart, and
when they had done so, he took the body in his arms, and so lay down
embracing it, with a dagger in either hand. Before sunset the tiger returned
to its kill, and leapt upon the corpse, whereupon the husband stabbed it to
the heart, so that the points of the daggers met, and killed it on the spot.”

The power of becoming a man- or were-tiger (as it has sometimes been
called), is supposed to be confined to one tribe of Sumatrans, the Korinchi
Malays, many of whom are to be met with in the Malay Native States. This

belief is very strongly held, and on one occasion, when I asked some
Malays at Jugra how it could be proved that the man really became a tiger,
they told me the case of a man some of whose teeth were plated with gold,
and who had been accidentally killed in the tiger stage, when the same gold
plating was discovered in the tiger’s mouth.82

Of the strength of the Malay belief in were-tigers Mr. Clifford writes:—

“The existence of the Malayan Loup Garou to the native mind is a fact, and
not a mere belief. The Malay knows that it is true. Evidence, if it be needed,
may be had in plenty; the evidence, too, of sober-minded men, whose words
in a Court of Justice would bring conviction to the mind of the most
obstinate jurymen, and be more than sufficient to hang the most innocent of
prisoners. The Malays know well how Haji ʿAbdallah, the native of the
little state of Korinchi in Sumatra, was caught naked in a tiger trap, and
thereafter purchased his liberty at the price of the buffaloes he had slain
while he marauded in the likeness of a beast. They know of the countless
Korinchi men who have vomited feathers, after feasting upon fowls, when
for the nonce they had assumed the forms of tigers; and of those other men
of the same race who have left their garments and their trading packs in
thickets whence presently a tiger has emerged. All these things the Malays
know have happened, and are happening to-day, in the land in which they
live, and with these plain evidences before their eyes, the empty assurances
of the enlightened European that Were-Tigers do not, and never did exist,
excite derision not unmingled with contempt.”83

Writing on the same theme, Sir Frank Swettenham says:—

“Another article of almost universal belief is that the people of a small State
in Sumatra called Korinchi have the power of assuming at will the form of a
tiger, and in that disguise they wreak vengeance on those they wish to
injure. Not every Korinchi man can do this, but still the gift of this strange
power of metamorphosis is pretty well confined to the people of the small
Sumatran State. At night when respectable members of society should be in
bed, the Korinchi man slips down from his hut, and, assuming the form of a
tiger, goes about ‘seeking whom he may devour.’

“I have heard of four Korinchi men arriving in a district of Perak, and that
night a number of fowls were taken by a tiger. The strangers left and went
farther up country, and shortly after only three of them returned and stated
that a tiger had just been killed, and they begged the local headman to bury
it.

“On another occasion some Korinchi men appeared and sought hospitality
in a Malay house, and there also the fowls disappeared in the night, and
there were unmistakable traces of the visit of a tiger, but the next day one of
the visitors fell sick, and shortly after vomited chicken-feathers.

“It is only fair to say that the Korinchi people strenuously deny the
tendencies and the power ascribed to them, but aver that they properly
belong to the inhabitants of a district called Chenâku in the interior of the
Korinchi country. Even there, however, it is only those who are practised in
the elĕmu sĕhir, the occult arts, who are thus capable of transforming
themselves into tigers, and the Korinchi people profess themselves afraid to
enter the Chenâku district.”84

There are many stories about ghost tigers (rimau kramat), which are
generally supposed to have one foot a little smaller than the others (kaki
tengkis). During my stay in the Langat district I was shown on more than
one occasion the spoor of a ghost tiger. This happened once near Sepang
village, on a wet and clayey bridle-track, where the unnatural smallness of
one of the feet was very conspicuous. Such tigers are considered
invulnerable, but harmless to man, and are looked upon generally as the
guardian spirits of some sacred spot. One of these sacred spots was the
shrine (kramat) of ’Toh Kamarong, about two miles north of Sepang
village. This shrine, it was alleged, was guarded by a white ghost elephant
and ghost tiger, who ranged the country round but never harmed anybody.
One day, however, a Chinaman from the neighbouring pepper plantations
offered at this shrine a piece of pork, which, however acceptable it might
have been to a Chinese saint, so incensed the orthodox guardians of this
Muhammadan shrine that one of them (the ghost tiger) fell upon the
Chinaman and slew him before he could return to his house.

By far the most celebrated of these ghost tigers, however, were the
guardians of the shrine at the foot of Jugra Hill, which were formerly the
pets of the Princess of Malacca (Tuan Pŭtri Gunong Ledang). Local report
says that this princess left her country when it was taken by the Portuguese,
and established herself on Jugra Hill, a solitary hill on the southern portion
of the Selangor coast, which is marked on old charts as the “False Parcelar”
hill.

The legend which connects the name of this princess with Jugra Hill was
thus told85 by Mr. G. C. Bellamy (formerly of the Selangor Civil Service).

“Bukit Jugra (Jugra Hill) in its isolated position, and conspicuous as it is
from the sea, could scarcely escape being an object of veneration to the
uneducated Malay mind. The jungle which clothes its summit and sides is
supposed to be full of hantus (demons or ghosts), and often when talking to
Malays in my bungalow in the evening have our discussions been
interrupted by the cries of the langswayer (a female birth-demon) in the
neighbouring jungle, or the mutterings of the bajang (a familiar spirit) as he
sat on the roof-tree. But the ‘Putri’ (Princess) of Gunong Ledang holds the
premier position amongst the fabulous denizens of the jungle on the hill,
and it is strange that places so far apart as Mount Ophir and Bukit Jugra
should be associated with one another in traditionary lore. The story runs
that this estimable lady, having disposed of her husband by pricking him to
death with needles,86 decided thenceforth to live free from the restrictions
of married life. She was thus able to visit distant lands, taking with her a
cat87 of fabulous dimensions as her sole attendant. This cat appears to have
been a most amiable and accommodating creature, for on arriving at Jugra
he carried the Princess on his back to the top of the hill. Here the lady
remained for some time, and during her stay constructed a bathing-place for
herself. Even to this day she pays periodical visits to Jugra Hill, and
although she herself is invisible to mortal eye, her faithful attendant, in the
shape of a handsome tiger, is often to be met with as he prowls about the
place at night. He has never been known to injure any one, and is reverently
spoken of as a rimau kramat (ghost tiger).”

To the above story Mr. C. H. A. Turney (then Senior District Officer and
stationed at Jugra) added the following:—

“The Princess and the stories about her and the tiger are well known, and
the latter are related from mother to daughter in Langat.

“There are, however, they say, one or two omissions; instead of one tiger
there were two, the real harimau kramat and an ambitious young tiger who
would also follow the Princess in her round of visits. This brute came to an
untimely and ignominious end (as he deserved to) at the hands of one Innes,
who was disturbed whilst reading a newspaper, and this can be verified by
Captain Syers.

“The other tiger jogged along gaily with his phantom mistress, and made
night hideous with his howlings and prowlings all about the Jugra Hill. He
was really kramat, and was said to have been shot at by several Malays, and
the present Sergeant-Major Allie, now stationed at Kuala Lumpur, can
vouch for this.”88

I myself collected at the time the following extra details:—

“The local version of the legend about the kramat at the foot of Jugra Hill
runs somewhat as follows:—Once upon a time one Nakhoda Ragam was
travelling with his wife (who is apparently to be identified with the Princess
of Malacca, Tuan Pŭtri Gunong Ledang) in a boat (sampan), when the latter
pricked him to death with a needle (mati di-chuchok jarum). His blood
flooded the boat (darah-nya hanyut dalam sampan), and presently the
woman in the boat was hailed by a vessel sailing past her. ‘What have you
got in that boat?’ said the master of the vessel, and the Princess replied: ‘It
is only spinach-juice’ (kuah bayam). She was therefore allowed to proceed,
and landed at the foot of Jugra Hill, where she buried all that yet remained
of her husband, which consisted of only one thigh (paha).89 She also took
ashore her two cats, which were in the boat with her, and which, turning
into ghost tigers, became the guardians of this now famous shrine.”90

Tigers are naturally too fierce to be tracked by the Malays, and are usually
caught in specially constructed traps (pĕnjara rimau), or killed by a self-
acting gun or spear-trap (b’lantek s’napang, b’lantek tĕrbang, b’lantek
parap, etc.); but even in this case the Pawang explains to the tiger that it
was not he but Muhammad who set the trap. There are, however, as might
be expected, a great number of charms intended to protect the devotee in
various ways from the tiger’s claws and teeth. Of these I will give one or
two typical specimens.

Sometimes a charm is used to keep the tiger at a distance (pĕnjauh rimau):
—

“Ho, Bĕrsĕnu! Ho, Bĕrkaih!
I know the origin from which you sprang;
(It was) Sheikh Abuniah Lahah Abu Kasap.
Your navel originated from the centre of your crown,
Your breasts are [to be seen] in [the spoor of] your fore-feet.91
May you go wide (of me) as the Seven Tiers of Heaven,
May you go wide (of me) as the Seven Tiers of Earth;
If you do not go wide,
You shall be a rebel unto God,” etc.

Sometimes the desired effect is expected to be obtained by a charm for
locking the tiger’s jaws:—

“Ho, Sir Cruncher! Ho, Sir Muncher!
Let the twig break under the weight of the wild goose.
Fast shut and locked be (your jaws), by virtue of ʿAli Mustapah,
OM. Thus I break (the tusks of) all beasts that are tusked,
By virtue of this Prayer from the Land of Siam.”92

The next specimen is described as a “charm for fascinating” (striking fear
into) a “tiger and hardening one’s own heart”:—

“O Earth-Shaker, rumble and quake!
Let iron needles be my body-hairs,

Let copper needles be my body-hairs!
Let poisonous snakes be my beard,
A crocodile my tongue,
And a roaring tiger in the dimple of my chin.
Be my voice the trumpet of an elephant,
Yea, like unto the roar of the thunderbolt.
May your lips be fast closed and your teeth clenched;
And not till the Heavens and the Earth are moved
May your heart be moved
To be wroth with or to seek to destroy me.
By the virtue of ‘There is no god but God,’” etc.

To which may be added—

“Kun! Payah Kun!
Let (celestial) splendour reside in my person.
Whosoever talks of encountering me,
A cunning Lion shall be his opponent.
O all ye Things that have life
Endure not to confront my gaze!
It is I who shall confront the gaze of you,
By the virtue of ‘There is no god but God.’”

When tigers were wounded, it was said (in Selangor) that they would doctor
themselves with ubat tasak, which is the name generally given to a sort of
poultice used by those who have just undergone circumcision. And when a
tiger was killed a sort of public reception was formerly always accorded to
him on his return to the village.

Though I have not seen the actual reception (generally miscalled a “wake”),
I once saw near Kajang in Selangor a tiger which had been prepared for the
ceremony. The animal was propped up on all fours as if alive, and his
mouth kept open by propping the roof with a stick. It was unfortunately
impossible for me to wait for the ceremony, but from a description which I
received afterwards, it was evidently regarded as a sort of “reception” given
by the people of the village to a live and powerful war-chief or champion

(hulubalang) who had come to pay them a visit, the dancing and fencing
which takes place on such occasions being intended for his entertainment.

One of these ceremonies, which took place in Jugra in Selangor, was thus
described:—

A Tiger’s Wake

“At 10 A.M. a great noise of rejoicing, with drums and gongs, approaching
Jugra by the river, was heard, and on my questioning the people, I was told
Raja Yakob had managed to shoot a tiger with a spring gun behind Jugra
Hill, and was bringing it in state to the Sultan. I went over to the Sultan’s at
Raja Yakob’s request to see the attendants on the slaughter of a tiger. The
animal was supported by posts and fastened in an attitude as nearly as
possible approaching the living. Its mouth was forced open, its tongue
allowed to drop on one side, and a small rattan attached to its upper jaw was
passed over a pole held by a man behind. This finished, two swords were
produced and placed crosswise, and a couple of Panglimas93 selected for
the dance; the gongs and drums were beaten at a quick time, the man
holding the rattan attached to the tiger’s head pulled it, moving the head up
and down, and the two Panglimas, after making their obeisance to the
Sultan, rushed at their swords, and holding them in their hands commenced
a most wild and exciting dance. They spun around on one leg, waving their
swords, then bounded forward and made a thrust at the tiger, moving back
quickly with the point of the weapon facing the animal; they crawled along
the ground and sprung over it uttering defiant yells, they cut and parried at
supposed attacks, finally throwing down their weapons and taunting the
dead beast by dancing before it unarmed. This done, Inas told me the
carcase was at my disposal.

“The death of the tiger now establishes the fact of the existence of tigers
here, for asserting which I have been pretty frequently laughed at. However
this is not the Jugra pest, a brute whose death would be matter for general

rejoicing, the one now destroyed being a tigress 8 feet long and 2 feet 8
inches high.”94

I may add that both the claws and whiskers of tigers are greatly sought after
as charms, and are almost invariably stolen from a tiger when one is killed
by a European. I have also seen at Klang a charm written on tiger’s skin.

The Deer95

Anthropomorphic ideas are held by the Malays almost as strongly in the
case of the Deer as of any other animal.

The Deer is, by all Malays, believed to have sprung from a man who
suffered from a severe ulcer or abscess (chabuk) on the leg, (which is
supposed to have left its trace on the deer’s legs to this day). Of the Perak
form of this legend Sir William Maxwell writes as follows:—

“The deer (rusa) is sometimes believed to be the metamorphosed body of a
man who has died of an abscess in the leg (chabuk), because it has marks
on the legs which are supposed to resemble those caused by the disease
mentioned. Of course there are not wanting men ready to declare that the
body of a man who has died of chabuk has been seen to rise from the grave
and to go away into the forest in the shape of a deer.”96

The Selangor legend is practically identical with that current in Perak.

The deer are frequently addressed, in the charms used by the hunters,
exactly as if they were human beings, e.g.—

“If you wish to wear bracelets and rings
Stretch out your two fore-feet.”

These rings and bracelets are of course the nooses which depend from the
toils.

In a charm of similar import we find:—

“Ho, Crown Prince (Raja Muda) with your Speckled Princess (Pŭtri Dandi),
Rouse you quickly (from your slumbers)
And clasp (round your neck) King Solomon’s necklace.”

I may add that in some places the Pawang (magician) will himself first
enter the toils, probably with the object of deceiving the stag as to their
nature and purpose.

The ceremonies for hunting deer are somewhat intricate, and it will perhaps
be best to commence by giving a general description of deer-catching as
practised by the Malays.

“This pastime”97 (deer-catching) “is one the Malay delights in. After a rainy
night, deer may be easily traced to their lair by their footprints, and as they
remain stationary by day the hunters have ample time to arrange their
apparatus. When the hiding-place is discovered all the young men of the
kampong98 assemble, and the following ceremony is performed before they
sally out on the expedition: Six or eight coils of rattan rope, about an inch in
diameter, are placed on a triangle formed with three rice-pounders, and the
oldest of the company, usually an experienced sportsman, places a cocoa-
nut shell filled with burning incense in the centre, and taking sprigs of three
bushes, viz. the jellatang, sapunie, and sambon99 plants (these, it is
supposed, possess extraordinary virtues), he walks mysteriously round the
coils, beating them with the sprigs, and erewhile muttering some gibberish,
which, if possessing any meaning, the sage keeps wisely to himself. During
the ceremony the youths of the village look on with becoming gravity and
admiration. It is believed that the absence of this ceremony would render
the expedition unsuccessful, the deer would prove too strong for the ropes,
and the wood demons frustrate their sport by placing insurmountable
obstacles in their way. Much faith appears to be placed in the ceremony.
Each coil referred to above is sixty to seventy fathoms long, and to the rope
running nooses, made also of rattan rope, are attached about three feet apart
from each other. On reaching the thicket wherein the deer are concealed,
stakes are driven into the ground a few feet apart in a straight line, the coils

are then opened out, and the rope attached to the stakes, two or three feet
above the ground, with the nooses hanging down, and two of the party
conceal themselves near the stakes armed with knives for the purpose of
despatching the deer when entangled in the nooses. The remainder of the
hunters arrange themselves on the opposite side of the thicket and advance
towards it, shouting and yelling at the top of their voices. The deer, startled
from their rest, spring to their feet and naturally flee from the noise towards
the nooses, and in a short time are entangled in them. As they struggle to
escape, the concealed hunters rush out and despatch them. Occasionally the
flight is prolonged till the major party arrives, and then the noble creatures
soon fall beneath the spears and knives of their assailants. The animal is
divided between the sportsmen.”100

The “gibberish” employed by the deer Pawangs when the latter enter the
jungle is intended to induce the wood demons and earth demons to recede,
or at least to dissuade them from active interference with the proceedings.
Charms are also employed by the Pawang, as he proceeds, from time to
time, to “ask for” a tree (to which the toils may be fastened); to “ask for” a
deer; to unroll and suspend the toils; to call upon the spirits (who are the
herdsmen of the deer) to drive the latter down to meet the dogs; to turn back
the deer when they have got away; to “prick” or urge on the dogs, or make
them bark; to stop wild dogs from barking in the jungle, or those of the
pack from barking at the wrong moment; to deceive the deer as to the
reality of the toils used by the hunters; to deceive the spirits as to the
identity of the hunting-party; and, finally, to drive out the “mischief” (badi)
from the carcase of the slain animal; examples of all of which will be found
in the course of the next few pages.

The first charm which I give is one used in “asking for deer”:—

“Ho! master of me your slave, Sidi the Dim-eyed,
Si Lailanang and Si Laigan his brother,
Si Dĕripan, Si Baung, Si Bakar,
Si Songsang (Sir Topsy Turvy), Si Bĕrhanyut (Sir Floater),
Si Pongking, Si Tĕmungking!
I demand Deer, a male and a female,

Blunt-hoofed, hard-browed,
Long-eared, tight-waisted,
Shut-eyed, shaggy-maned, spotted;
If not the shut-eyed, the shaggy-maned and the spotted,
The “rascal,” the starveling, the mere skeleton.
Most fervently we beg this boon, by the light of this very same day,
By virtue of the ‘kiraman katibin.’101
And here is the token of my petition.”102

The directions proceed:—

“On first entering the jungle, say—

“Ho, Hantu Bakar, Jĕmbalang Bakar,
Turn a little aside,
That I may let loose my body-guard.”

(By which the “pack” is no doubt intended.)

“When you meet the slot, examine the slot. If it is a little shortened on one side, the quarry
is in some danger; if it has gone lame of one hoof, it is a sign that it will be killed within
seven days.

“After entering the jungle, and finding the dogs, wait for the dogs to bark, and then give
out this ‘cooee’—

“Ho! Si Lanang, Si Lambaun,
Si Kĕtor, Si Becheh!

Ye Four Herdsmen of the Deer,
Come ye down to meet the dogs.
And refuse not to come down
Or ye shall be rebels unto God, etc.
It is not I who am huntsman,
It is Pawang Sidi (wizard Sidi) that is huntsman;
It is not I whose dogs these are,
It is Pawang Sakti (the ‘magic wizard’) whose dogs these are;
Let Dang Durai cross the water,
It is only a civet-cat that is left for me.
Grant this by virtue of my teacher, ’Toh Raja—
May his art be yet more powerful in my hands.103
By virtue of ‘There is no god but God,’” etc.

A deer Pawang (’Che Indut) also gave me this charm for recital when the
support (lit. “shoulder”) of the noose is being cut (for which purpose it
would appear that a young tree of the kind called “Delik” is usually taken).

“The Delik’s branches spread out horizontally (at the top),104
Chop at it, and it will produce roots.
Though its bark is destroyed, a cudgel is still left for people’s bones,
Even though it be worked on by the charm Kalinting Bakar.”105

From the same source I obtained this charm, addressed to the Deer, but
intended for fixing the scent (mĕnĕtapkan bau), and for suspending the toils
(mĕmasang jĕrat):—

“Teng106 [stands for] the satengteng flower,
Ascend ye the twin stream.
If you delight in bracelets and rings
Push forward your two fore-feet.

“When setting the nooses (bubohkan pĕrindu jĕrat) say, addressing the deer as before:—

“Be filled with yearning, be filled with longing,
As the Holy Basil grows even to a rock,
Be filled with yearning as you sit, be filled with yearning as you go,
Fast-bound by love of this noose of mine.”

The directions given me by another Pawang commenced with a charm for
emboldening the dogs, after which the account proceeds:—

“When you have finished (the charm referred to), take seven steps forward, leaving the
toils behind you, and standing erect, look forward and call as follows:—

“O all ye Saids (lawful descendants of the Prophet),
Unto you, my Lords, belong the Deer,
Si Lambaun was the origin of the Deer,
Si Lanang is their Herdsman,
Drive ye the Deer into our toils.
This causeway of rock (titian batu) is your high road and market-square,
The resort of innumerable people.
Follow, follow in long procession,
And let the “Assembly”-Flower unfold its petals.
Come in procession, come in succession,
Our toils have come to summon you to the spot.

Ho, Deer that are unfortunate, Deer that are curst,
Enter this path of mine which is empty of men.
On the left stand spearmen,
On the right stand spearmen,
And whichever of (those two) ways you go,
By that self-same way will you be turned back.

“Now proceed till you meet the stag, and as he rouses himself from slumber, say:—

“Ho, Crown Prince with your Speckled Princess,
Rouse you in haste and slip on King Solomon’s royal breast ornament.
Receive it, receive it in your turn,
And do ye (huntsmen) shout ‘Bi’ again and again.

“[Here the spearmen right and left shout in concert.]

“So, too, when spearing the deer, say—

“It is not I who spear you,
It is Pawang Sidi who spears you.

“When you have secured a deer, flick (kĕbaskan) the carcase thrice in a downward
direction with a black cloth or with a leafy spray (if you will), such as the deer feed upon,
for instance with the sĕndayan (or sĕndĕreian, a kind of sedge), or with fern-shoots, and
call out:—

“O Si Lanang, Si Lambaun,
Si Kĕtor, Si Becheh, who are Four Persons,
Take back your own share (of the carcase).107

“Here ‘take the representative parts, pierce them with a rattan line, and suspend them from
a tree.’”

But the fullest account of this ceremony (of driving out the mischief from
the carcase) runs as follows:—

“When you have caught the deer, cast out the mischief from it (buang dia-punya badi). To
effect this, take a black jacket such as can cast out this mischief (if no black jacket is
obtainable, take the branch of any tree), and stroke (the carcase) from the head downwards
to the feet and the rump, saying as you do so:—

“Ho Badi Serang, Badi Mak Buta,
Si Panchor Mak Tuli,
It is not I who cast out these mischiefs,
It is the Junior Dogboy who casts them out.
It is not I who cast out these mischiefs,
It is the Dogboy Rukiah who casts them out.

It is not I who cast out these mischiefs,
It is Mukaël108 (Michael) who casts them out.
It is not I who cast out these mischiefs,
It is Israfel who casts them out.
It is not I who cast out these mischiefs,
It is Azrael who casts them out.
It is not I who cast out these mischiefs,
It is Mukarael (?) who casts them out.
I know the origin of these mischiefs,
They are the offspring of the Jin Ibni Ujan,109
Who dwell in the open spaces and hill-locked basins.
Return ye to your open spaces and hill-locked basins,
And do me no harm or scathe.
I know the origin from which you spring,
From the offspring of the Jin Ibni Ujan do ye spring.

“Here take small portions of his eyes, ears, mouth, nose, hind-feet, fore-feet, hair (of his
coat), liver, heart, spleen and horns (if it be a stag), wrap them up in a leaf, and deposit
them in the slot of his approaching tracks, saying: ‘O Mĕntala (Batara) Guru, one a month,
two a month, three a month, four a month, five a month, six a month, seven a month (be
the deer which fall) by night to you, by day to me. One deer I take with me, and one I leave
behind.’”

A deer Pawang named ’Che Indut gave me a charm for turning the deer
back upon their tracks, “though their flesh was torn to rags and their bones
well-becudgelled.” It concluded with the following appeal to the spirits:—

“Ho (ye Spirits) turn back my Deer!
If you do not turn them back,
At sea ye shall get no drink,
Ashore ye shall find no food.
By virtue of the word of God,” etc.

I will conclude with the following charm, believed to be a means of
bringing the stag low:—

“Measure off three sticks (probably dead wood taken from the slot of the deer, as in the
case of the elephant), their length being measured by the distance from the roof of your
mouth to the teeth of the lower jaw. Lay these sticks in a triangular form inside the slot of
the stag, press the left thumb downwards in the centre of the triangle, and humble your
heart. This will humble the deer’s heart too.”

The Mouse-deer or chevrotin is the “Brer Rabbit” of the Malays. It figures
in many proverbial sayings and romances, in which it is credited with
extraordinary sagacity, and is honoured by the title of “Mĕntri B’lukar,” the
“Vizier of the (secondary) Forest-Growth.”110

It is generally taken by means of a snare called tapah pĕlandok, but
sometimes by tapping on the ground with sticks (mĕngĕtok pĕlandok), the
sound of which is supposed to imitate the drumming of the buck’s fore-feet
upon the ground in rutting-time, by which the attention of the doe is
attracted. Whatever the reason may be, there is no doubt that the method is
often successful.

When this “tapping” method is adopted, the charms used are similar to
those used for calling the big deer, e.g.—

“Arak-arak iring-iring
Kĕmbang bunga si Panggil-Panggil,
Datang bĕrarak, datang bĕriring,
Raja Suleiman datang mĕmanggil.

Follow in procession, follow in succession,
The Assembly-flower has opened its petals.
Come in procession, come in succession,
King Solomon comes to summon you.”

But at the end of the charm is added, “Ini-lah gong-nya,” i.e. “This is his
(King Solomon’s) gong.”

The stick which is used may be of any kind of wood except a creeper, and
the best place for the operation is where the ground sounds hollow when
tapped. Either three, five, or seven leaves must, however, be laid on the spot
before the tapping is commenced.

The directions for setting the snare (jĕrat or tapah pĕlandok) were taken
down by me as follows:—

First look for a tree whose sap is viscid, and chop at it thrice (with a
cutlass). If the splinters fall, one the right and the other the wrong way up
(lit. one prone and the other supine), it is a bad sign (though it is a good sign
when one is setting a trap); for in the case of a snare they must fall the
wrong way up (supine).

When this is done, commence to set the snare near the foot of a tree, at
about a fathom’s distance, and say:—

“As a cocoa-nut shell rocks to and fro
When filled with clay,
Avaunt ye, Jĕmbalang and Badi,
That I may set this snare.”

Next you say:—

“Ho, Sir ‘Pointed-Hoof,’
Sir ‘Sharp-Muzzle,’
Do you step upon this snare that I have spread
Within two days or three.
If you do not step upon this snare that I have spread
Within two days or three,
You shall be choked to death with blood in your throat,
You shall be in sore straits within the limits of your own Big Jungle.
At sea you shall get no drink,
Ashore you shall get no food,
By virtue of,” etc.

Hunting-Dogs

Hunting-dogs are spoken to continually as if they were human beings.
Several examples of this occur in the deer charms.

Thus we find the following passage addressed to the dogs:—

“Let not go the scent,
Formidable were you from the first;

Hot-foot, hot-foot, do you pursue,
If you do not pursue hot-foot,
I will minimise my benediction (lit. my ‘Peace be with you’).
If it (the deer) be a buck, you shall have him for a brother;
If it be a doe, you shall have her for a wife.”

So too, again, after calling several dogs by name, the Pawang gets together
the accessories (leaves of the tukas and lĕnjuang, a brush of leaves (sa-
chĕrek) and a black cloth), and exclaims:—

“Bark, Sir Slender-foot; bark, Sir Brush-tail.”

The Pawang generally tries to deceive the deer as to his ownership of the
hunting-dogs. Thus he will say:—

“It is not I whose dogs these are,
It is the magical deer Pawang whose dogs these are.”

So, too, they are called by certain specific names (according to their breed
and colour), which are in several cases identical with the names of the dogs
with which the wild Spectre Huntsman (the most terrible of all personified
diseases in the Malay category) hunts down his prey.111

Ugliness is by no means looked upon as a disadvantage, but rather the
opposite. An ugly dog is apparently formidable. Thus we find a dog
addressed as follows:—

“Let not go the scent (of the quarry)
As you were formidable (lit. ugly)112 from the first.”

Again, the description of the “good points” of some of these dogs which is
given in the Appendix would, if ugliness and formidability are convertible

terms, satisfy the most exacting whipper-in, the so-called good points being
for the most part a mere list of deformities. These points, however, are
merely the external sign of the Luck to which dogs, as well as human
beings, are believed to be born. In a fine passage we are told:—

“From the seven Hills and the seven Valleys
Comes the intense barking of my Dogs.
My Dogs are Dogs of Luck,
Not Luck that is adventitious,
But Luck incarnate with their bodies.
Go tread upon the heaped and rotting leaves,
And never desert the scent.”

Speaking of dog-lore generally, it may be remarked that though dogs are
very frequently kept by the Malays, it is considered unlucky to keep them.
“The dog ... is unlucky. He longs for the death of his master, an event which
will involve the slaying of animals at the funeral feast, when the bones will
fall to the dogs. When a dog is heard howling at night, he is supposed to be
thinking of the broken bones (niat handak mengutib tulang patah).”113

Even the wild dogs in the jungle114 are warned not to bark, and are
addressed as if they were human:—

“If you bark your windpipe shall burst,
If you smack your lips your tongue shall be docked.

.....................

If you come nearer, you shall break your leg;

.....................

Return to the big virgin jungle,
Return to your caverns and hill-locked basins,
To the stream which has no head-waters,

To the pond which was never dug,
To the waters which bear no passengers,
To the fountain-head which is [never] dry.
If you do not return, you shall die,
Cursed by the First Pen (i.e. the Human Tongue),
Pierced by the twig of a gomuti-palm,115
Impaled by a palm thatch-needle,
Transfixed by a porcupine’s quill.”

Bears and Monkeys

“The Bear116 is believed to be the mortal foe of the Tiger, which he
sometimes defeats in single combat. (Bruang, the Malay word for ‘bear,’
has a curious resemblance to our word ‘Bruin.’117) A story is told of a tame
bear which a Malay left in charge of his house and of his sleeping child
while he was absent from home. On his return he missed his child, the
house was in disorder, as if some struggle had taken place, and the bear was
covered with blood. Hastily drawing the conclusion that the bear had killed
and devoured the child, the enraged father slew the animal with his spear,
but almost immediately afterwards he found the carcase of a tiger, which
the faithful bear had defeated and killed, and the child emerged unharmed
from the jungle, where she had taken refuge. It is unnecessary to point out
the similarity of this story to the legend of Beth-Gelert. It is evidently a
local version of the story of the Ichneumon and the Snake in the Pancha-
tantra.”118

Monkeys and men have always been associated in native tradition, and
Malay folklore is no exception to the rule. Thus we get the tradition of the
great man-like ape, the Mawas (a reminiscence of the orang-outang or mias
of Borneo), which is said to make shelters for itself in the forks of trees, and
to be born with the blade of a cutlass (woodknife) in place of the bone of
the forearm, so that it is able to cut down the undergrowth as it walks

through the jungle. It is believed, moreover, occasionally to carry off and
mate with human kind.119

The Siamang (Hylobates lar),120 which walks on its hind-legs, is, however,
the species which is most commonly associated in legend with the human
race; in fact, it is not impossible that there may sometimes have been a
confusion between its name (siamang) and Sĕmang, which is the name of
one of the aboriginal (Negrito) races of the interior. The following Malay
legend, which I took down at Labu in Selangor is believed to explain its
origin, and also that of the Bear:121—

Once upon a time her Highness the Princess Telan became the affianced
bride of Si Malim Bongsu. After the betrothal Si Malim Bongsu sailed away
and did not return when the period of the engagement, which was fixed at
from three to four months, came to an end.

Then Si Malim Panjang, elder brother of Si Malim Bongsu, decided to take
the place of his younger brother, and be married to the Princess Telan. The
latter, however, repelled his advances, and he therefore attacked her
savagely; but she turned herself into an ape (siamang) and escaped to the
jungle, so that Si Malim Panjang desisted from pursuit. Then the ape
climbed up into a pagar-anak tree which grew on the sea-shore, and leaned
over the sea, and there she chanted these words:—

“O my dear Malim Bongsu,
You have broken your solemn promise and engagement,
And I have to take upon myself the form of an ape.”

Now Si Malim Bongsu was passing at the time, and on recognising the
voice of the Princess Telan he took a blow-gun and shot her so that she fell
into the sea. Then he took rose-water and sprinkled it over her, so that she
resumed her natural shape, and they started to go home together. Still,
however, Si Malim Bongsu would not wed her, but promised that he would
do so when he came back from his next voyage, whereupon the Princess
chanted these words:—

“If you do not return within three months
You will find me turned into an ape.”

The same course of events, however, happened as before. Malim Bongsu
did not return at the time appointed; his elder brother, Malim Panjang once
more attacked her, and, leaping towards an areca palm, she once more
became an ape, whereupon she chanted as before:—

“O my dear Malim Bongsu,
You have broken your solemn promise and engagement,
And I am forced to become an ape.”

Again Malim Bongsu, as he passed by, heard and recognised her voice; but
upon learning that he had been for the second time the cause of his
Princess’s troubles, he exclaimed, “Better were it for me were I nothing but
a big fish”; and leaping into the water he disappeared, and was changed into
a big fish as he desired.

Now the Princess’s nurse (who was called “The Daughter of Sakembang
China”) was at the same time transformed into a bear, and as they were
bathing at the time when they were surprised, and had not time to wash off
all the soap (rice-cosmetic), the white marks on the breast and brows of the
bear and on the breast and brows of the ape (siamang) have remained unto
this day.

Occasionally the opposite transformation is believed to take place, some
species of the monkey tribe being supposed to turn into fish.

Thus the k’ra (Macacus cynomolgus) is believed to develop into a species
of fish called sĕnunggang, and of the fish called kalul (kalui or kalue), Sir
W. E. Maxwell writes: “The ikan kalul (is believed) to be a monkey
transformed. Some specially favoured observers have seen monkeys half
through the process of metamorphosis—half-monkey and half-fish.”122 The
species of monkey which is believed to turn into the ikan kalul is, as I was
told in Selangor, the b’rok or “cocoa-nut monkey.”

“Berhakim kapada brok” is a Malay proverbial expression which means,
“‘To make the monkey judge,’ or, ‘to go to the monkey for justice.’ A fable
is told by the Malays of two men, one of whom planted bananas on the land
of the other. When the fruit was ripe each claimed it, but not being able to
come to any settlement they referred the matter to the arbitration of a
monkey (of the large kind called brok). The judge decided that the fruit
must be divided; but no sooner was this done than one of the suitors
complained that the other’s share was too large. To satisfy him the monkey
reduced the share of the other by the requisite amount, which he ate
himself. Then the second suitor cried out that the share of the first was now
too large. It had to be reduced to satisfy him, the subtracted portion going to
the monkey as before. Thus they went on wrangling until the whole of the
fruit was gone, and there was nothing left to wrangle about. Malay judges,
if they are not calumniated, have been known to protract proceedings until
both sides have exhausted their means in bribes. In such cases the
unfortunate suitors are said to berhakim kapada brok.”123

The Wild Pig and Other Animals

There are several superstitions about the Wild Boar which prove that it was
not always regarded as an unclean animal.

Of these the following recipe, which was given me by a Jugra (Selangor)
Malay, for turning brass into gold is the most remarkable:—

“Kill a wild pig and rip open its paunch. Sew up in this a quantity of old
‘scrap’ brass, pile timber over it, burn it, and then leave it alone until the
grass has grown right over it. Then dig up the gold.” Again, certain wild
boars are believed to carry on their tushes a talisman of extraordinary
power, which is called rantei babi, or “Wild Boar’s Chain.” This chain
consists, it is asserted, of three links of various metals (gold, silver, and
amalgam), and is hung up on a shrub by the wild boar when he is enjoying
his wallow, so that it is occasionally stolen by Malays who know his habits.

I may add that, according to a Malay at Langat, the “were-tiger” (rimau
jadi-jadian) occasionally appears in the shape of a wild boar escaping from
a grave, in the centre of which may be afterwards seen the hole by which
the animal has escaped.

“Among the modern Malays avoidance of the flesh of swine and of contact
with anything connected with the unclean animal is, of course, universal.
No tenet of El-Islam is more rigidly enforced than this. It is singular to
notice, among a people governed by the ordinances of the Prophet, traces of
the observance of another form of abstinence enjoined by a different
religion. The universal preference of the flesh of the Buffalo to that of the
Ox in Malay countries is evidently a prejudice bequeathed to modern times
by a period when cow-beef was as much an abomination to Malays as it is
to the Hindus of India at the present day. This is not admitted or suspected
by ordinary Malays, who would probably have some reason, based on the
relative wholesomeness of buffalo and cow-beef, to allege in defence of
their preference of the latter to the former.”124

To the above I may add that it is invariably the flesh of the Buffalo, and not
that of the Ox, which is eaten sacrificially on the occasion of festivities.125
But the flesh of the so-called White (albino) Buffalo (kĕrbau balar) is
generally avoided as food, though I have known it to be prescribed
medicinally (as in the case of Raja Kahar, a son of H.H. the Sultan of
Selangor, the circumstances of whose illness will be detailed elsewhere).126
As might be expected, a story is told by the Malays to account for this
distinction. The general outline of the tale is to the effect that a Malay boy
(a mere child) fell into the big rice-bin (kĕpok) in his parents’ absence and
was suffocated by the rice. After some days the body began to decompose,
and the ooze emanating from the rice-bin was licked up by a buffalo
belonging to the boy’s parents. The attention of these latter being thus
attracted to the rice-bin, they found therein the remains of their child, and
thereupon cursed the buffalo, which (we are led to infer) became “white,”
and has remained so ever since. According to one version, a ground-dove
(tĕkukur) was implicated both in the offence and the punishment which
followed it. Wherefore to this day no man eats of the flesh of either of the
offenders.

Perhaps the most extraordinary transformation in which the Malays
implicitly believe is that of the Squirrel, which is supposed to be developed
from a large caterpillar called ulat sĕntadu.127

About the Cat there are many superstitions which show that it is believed to
possess supernatural powers. Thus it is supposed to be lucky to keep cats
because they long for a soft cushion to lie upon, and so (indirectly) wish for
the prosperity of their master.128 On the other hand, cats must be very
carefully prevented from rubbing up against a corpse, for it is said that on
one occasion when this was neglected, the badi or Evil Principle which
resides in the cat’s body entered into the corpse, which thus became
endowed with unnatural life and stood up upon its feet. So too the soaking
of the cat in a pan of water until it is half-drowned is believed to produce an
abundance of rain.129 It is, besides, believed to be extremely unlucky to kill
cats. Of this superstition Mr. Clifford says:—

“It is a common belief among Malays that if a cat is killed he who takes its
life will in the next world be called upon to carry and pile logs of wood, as
big as cocoa-nut trees, to the number of the hairs on the beast’s body.
Therefore cats are not killed; but if they become too daring in their raids on
the hen-coop or the food rack, they are tied to a raft and sent floating down
stream, to perish miserably of hunger. The people of the villages by which
they pass make haste to push the raft out again into mid-stream, should it in
its passage adhere to bank or bathing-hut, and on no account is the animal
suffered to land. To any one who thinks about it, this long and lingering
death is infinitely more cruel than one caused by a blow from an axe; but
the Malays do not trouble to consider such a detail, and would care little if
they did.”130

Before leaving the subject of cats, I must mention the belief that the “fresh-
water fish called ikan belidah” was “originally a cat.” Sir W. E. Maxwell
says that many Malays refuse to eat it for this reason, and adds, “They
declare that it squalls like a cat when harpooned, and that its bones are very
white and fine like a cat’s hairs.”131 A story is also sometimes told to
account both for the general similarity of habits of the cat and the tiger and
for the fact that the latter, unlike most of the Felidæ, is not a tree-climber. It

is to the effect that the cat agreed to teach the tiger its tricks, which it did,
with the exception of the art of climbing trees. The tiger, thinking it had
learnt all the cat’s tricks, proceeded to attack its teacher, when the cat
escaped by climbing up a tree; so the tiger never learnt how to climb and
cannot climb trees to this day.

Even the smallest and commonest of mammals, such as Rats and Mice, are
the objects of many strange beliefs. Thus “clothes which have been nibbled
by rats or mice must not be worn again. They are sure to bring misfortune,
and are generally given away in charity.”132

So too on the Selangor coast a mollusc called siput tantarang or mĕntarang
is believed to have sprung from a mouse; and many kinds of charms,
generally addressed to the “Prophet Joseph” (Nabi Yusuf), are resorted to in
order to drive away rats and mice from the rice-fields.

The following passage describes the general ideas about animal
superstitions which prevail on the east coast of the Peninsula:—

“The beliefs and superstitions of the Fisher Folk would fill many volumes.
They believe in all manner of devils and local sprites. They fear greatly the
demons that preside over animals, and will not willingly mention the names
of birds or beasts while at sea. Instead, they call them all chêweh133—
which, to them, signifies an animal, though to others it is meaningless, and
is supposed not to be understanded of the beasts. To this word they tack on
the sound which each beast makes in order to indicate what animal is
referred to; thus the pig is the grunting chêweh, the buffalo the chêweh that
says ‘uak,’ and the snipe the chêweh that cries ‘kek-kek.’ Each boat that puts
to sea has been medicined with care, many incantations and other magic
observances having been had recourse to, in obedience to the rules which
the superstitious people have followed for ages. After each take the boat is
‘swept’ by the medicine man with a tuft of leaves prepared with mystic
ceremonies, which is carried at the bow for the purpose. The omens are
watched with exact care, and if they be adverse no fishing-boat puts to sea
that day. Every act in their lives is regulated by some regard for the demons
of the sea and air, and yet these folk are nominally Muhammadans, and,

according to that faith, magic and sorcery, incantations to the spirits, and
prayers to demons, are all unclean things forbidden to the people. But the
Fisher Folk, like other inhabitants of the Peninsula, are Malays first and
Muhammadans afterwards. Their religious creed goes no more than skin
deep, and affects but little the manner of their daily life.”134

3. VEGETATION CHARMS

The Vegetation Spirit of the Malays “follows in some vague and partial
way,” to use Professor Tylor’s words, from the analogy of the Animal Spirit.
It is difficult to say, without a more searching inquiry than I have yet had
the opportunity of making, whether Malay magicians would maintain that
all trees had souls (sĕmangat) or not. All that we can be certain of at present
is that a good many trees are certainly supposed by them to have souls,
such, for instance, as the Durian, the Cocoa-nut palm, and the trees which
produce Eagle-wood (gharu), Gutta Percha, Camphor, and a good many
others.

What can be more significant than the words and actions of the men who in
former days would try and frighten the Durian groves into bearing; or of the
toddy-collector who addresses the soul of the Cocoa-nut palm in such
words as, “Thus I bend your neck, and roll up your hair; and here is my
ivory toddy-knife to help the washing of your face”;135 or of the collectors
of jungle produce who traffic in Eagle-wood, Camphor, and Gutta (the
spirits of the first two of which trees are considered extremely powerful and
dangerous) or, above all, of the reapers who carry the “Rice-soul” home at
harvest time?

A special point in connection with the Malay conception of the vegetation
soul perhaps requires particular attention, viz. the fact that apparently dead
and even seasoned timber may yet retain the soul which animated it during
its lifetime. Thus, the instructions for the performance of the rites to be used
at the launching of a boat (which will be found below under the heading

“The Sea, Rivers, and Streams”)136 involve an invocation to the timbers of
the boat, which would therefore seem to be conceived as capable, to some
extent, of receiving impressions and communications made in accordance
with the appropriate forms and ceremonies.

So, too, a boat with a large knot in the centre of the bottom is considered
good for catching fish, and in strict conformity with this idea is the belief
that the natural excrescences (or knobs) and deformities of trees are mere
external evidences of an indwelling spirit. So, too, the fruit of the cocoa-nut
palm, when the shell lacks the three “eyes” to which we are accustomed, is
believed to serve in warfare as a most valuable protection (pĕlias) against
the bullets of the enemy, and the same may be said in a minor degree of the
joints of “solid” bamboo (buluh tumpat) which are occasionally found,
whilst to a slightly different category belong the comparatively numerous
examples of “Tabasheer” (mineral concretions in the wood of certain trees),
which are so highly valued by the Malays for talismanic purposes. Such
trees as the Mali mali, Rotan jĕr’nang (Dragon’s-blood rattan), Buluh kasap
(rough bamboo), etc., are all said to supply instances of the concretions
referred to, but the most famous of them all is without doubt the so-called
“cocoa-nut pearl,” of which I quote the following account from Dr. Denys’s
Descriptive Dictionary of British Malaya.

Cocoa-nut Pearls

The following remarks concerning these peculiar accretions are extracted
from Nature:—

“During my recent travels,” Dr. Sidney Hickson writes to a scientific
contemporary, “I was frequently asked by the Dutch planters and others if I
had ever seen ‘a cocoa-nut stone.’ These stones are said to be rarely found
(1 in 2000 or more) in the perisperm of the cocoa-nut, and when found are
kept by the natives as a charm against disease and evil spirits. This story of

the cocoa-nut stone was so constantly told me, and in every case without
any variation in its details, that I made every effort before leaving to obtain
some specimens, and eventually succeeded in obtaining two.

“One of these is nearly a perfect sphere, 14 mm. in diameter, and the other,
rather smaller in size, is irregularly pear-shaped. In both specimens the
surface is worn nearly smooth by friction. The spherical one I have had cut
into two halves, but I can find no concentric or other markings on the
polished cut surfaces.

“Dr. Kimmins has kindly submitted one-half to a careful chemical analysis,
and finds that it consists of pure carbonate of lime without any trace of
other salts or vegetable tissue.

“I should be very glad if any of your readers could inform me if there are
any of these stones in any of the museums, or if there is any evidence
beyond mere hearsay of their existence in the perisperm of the cocoa-
nut.”137

On this letter Mr. Thiselton Dyer makes the following remarks:—“Dr.
Hickson’s account of the calcareous concretions occasionally found in the
central hollow (filled with fluid—the so-called ‘milk’) of the endosperm of
the seed of the cocoa-nut is extremely interesting. It appears to me a
phenomenon of the same order as tabasheer, to which I recently drew
attention in Nature.

“The circumstances of the occurrence of these stones or ‘pearls’ are in many
respects parallel to those which attend the formation of tabasheer. In both
cases mineral matter in palpable masses is withdrawn from solution in
considerable volumes of fluid contained in tolerably large cavities in living
plants; and in both instances they are monocotyledons.

“In the case of the cocoa-nut pearls the material is calcium carbonate, and
this is well known to concrete in a peculiar manner from solutions in which
organic matter is also present.

“In my note on tabasheer I referred to the reported occurrence of mineral
concretions in the wood of various tropical dicotyledonous trees. Tabasheer
is too well known to be pooh-poohed; but some of my scientific friends
express a polite incredulity as to the other cases. I learn, however, from
Prof. Judd, F.R.S., that he has obtained a specimen of apatite found in
cutting up a mass of teak-wood. The occurrence of this mineral under these
circumstances has long been recorded; but I have never had the good
fortune to see a specimen.”138

The Durian

The Durian tree (for an account of whose famous fruit the classical
description in Wallace’s Malay Archipelago may be referred to) is a semi-
wild fruit-tree, whose stem frequently rises to the height of some eighty or
ninety feet before the branches are met with. It is generally planted in
groves, which are often to be found in the jungle when all other traces of
former human habitation have completely disappeared, though even then its
fruit, if tradition says true, is as keenly fought over by the denizens of the
forest (monkeys, bears, and tigers) as ever it was by their temporary
dispossessors. Interspersed among the Durian trees will be found numerous
varieties of orchard trees of a less imperial height, amongst which may be
named the Rambutan,139 Rambei,140 Lansat,141 Duku,142 Mangostin,143 and
many others. A small grove of these trees, which was claimed by the late
Sultan ʿAbdul Samad of Selangor, grew within about a mile of my
bungalow at Jugra, and I was informed that in years gone by a curious
ceremony (called Mĕnyemah durian) was practised in order to make the
trees more productive. On a specially selected day, it was said, the village
would assemble at this grove, and (no doubt with the usual accompaniment
of the burning of incense and scattering of rice) the most barren of the
Durian trees would be singled out from the rest. One of the local Pawangs
would then take a hatchet (bĕliong) and deliver several shrewd blows upon
the trunk of the tree, saying:—

“Will you now bear fruit or not?
If you do not I shall fell you.”144

To this the tree (through the mouth of a man who had been stationed for the
purpose in a Mangostin tree hard by) was supposed to make answer:—

“Yes, I will now bear fruit;
I beg you not to fell me.”145

I may add that it was a common practice in the fruit season for the boys
who were watching for the fruit to fall (for which purpose they were usually
stationed in small palm-thatch shelters) to send echoing through the grove a
musical note, which they produced by blowing into a bamboo instrument
called tuang-tuang. I cannot, however, say whether this custom now has
any ceremonial significance or not, though it seems not at all unlikely that it
once had.146

The Malacca Cane

No less distinct are the animistic ideas of the Malays relating to various
species of the Malacca-cane plant. Mr. Wray of the Perak Museum writes as
follows:—

“A Malacca-cane with a joint as long as the height of the owner will protect
him from harm by snakes and animals, and will give him luck in all things.
What is called a samambu bangku147 or baku, possesses the power of
killing any one even when the person is only slightly hurt by a blow dealt
with it. These are canes that have died down and have begun to shoot again
from near the root. They are very rare, one of eighteen inches in length is
valued at six or seven dollars, and one long enough to make a walking stick
of, at thirty to fifty dollars. At night the rotan samambu plant is said to
make a loud noise, and, according to the Malays, it says, ‘Bulam sampei,
bulam sampei,’148 meaning that it has not yet reached its full growth. They

are often to be heard in the jungle at night, but the most diligent search will
not reveal their whereabouts. The rotan manoh149 is also said to give out
sounds at night. The sounds are loud and musical, but the alleged will-o’-
the-wisp character of the rattans which are supposed to produce them seems
to point to some night-bird, tree-frog, or lizard as being the real cause of the
weird notes, though it is just possible that the wind might make the rattan
leaves vibrate in such a way as to cause the sounds.”150

In Selangor it is the stick-insect (kĕranting) which is believed to be the
embodiment of the “Malacca-cane spirit” (Hantu Samambu), by which last
name it is most commonly called. These stick-insects are believed by the
Selangor Malays to produce the sounds to which Mr. Wray refers, and in
order to account for their peculiar character a story is told, the main features
of which are as follows:—

Once upon a time a married couple fell out, and the husband surreptitiously
introduced stones into the cooking-pot in place of the yams which his wife
was cooking. Then he went off to climb for a cocoa-nut, and as he climbed,
he mocked her by calling out “Masak bĕlum? Masak bĕlum?” (“Are they
cooked yet? Are they cooked yet?”). What she did by way of retaliation is
not clear, but as he climbed and mocked her, she is said to have retorted,
“Panjat bĕlum? Panjat bĕlum?” (“Have you climbed it yet? Have you
climbed it yet?”), a reply which clearly shows that her woman’s wit had
been at work, and that she was not going to allow her husband to get the
better of her.151 However this may be, a deadlock ensued, the result of
which was that both parties were transformed into stick-insects, but were
yet condemned to mock each other as they had done during the period of
their human existence.

I have often from my boat, during dark nights on the Langat river, listened
to the weird note which my Malays invariably ascribed to these insects, and
which is not inaptly represented by one of the Malay names for them, viz.
“bĕlum-bĕlam.” I have not yet, however, succeeded in identifying the real
producer of the note, of which all I can say at present is, that although it
may not be itself discoverable, the Malays look upon it as a certain guide to
the localities where the Malacca-canes grow.

The Tualang or Sialang Tree

So too of the Tualang-tree Mr. Wray writes:—

“One of the largest and stateliest of the forest trees in Perak is that known as
Toallong, or Toh Allong;152 it has a very poisonous sap, which produces
great irritation when it comes in contact with the skin. Two Chinamen who
had felled one of these trees in ignorance, had their faces so swelled and
inflamed that they could not see out of their eyes, and had to be led about
for some days before they recovered from the effects of the poison. Their
arms, breasts, and faces were affected, and they presented the appearance of
having a very bad attack of erysipelas. These trees are supposed to be the
abiding-places of hantu, or spirits, when they have large hollow projections
from the trunk, called rumah hantu, or spirit houses. These projections are
formed when a branch gets broken off near the trunk, and are quite
characteristic of the tree. There are sometimes three or four of them on a
large tree, and the Malays have a great objection to cutting down any that
are so disfigured, the belief being that if a man fells one he will die within
the year. As a rule these trees are left standing when clearings are made, and
they are a source of trouble and expense to planters and others, who object
to their being left uncut.

“The following series of events actually happened:—A Malay named Panda
Tambong undertook, against the advice of his friends, to fell one of the Toh
Allong trees, and he almost immediately afterwards was taken ill with fever,
and died in a few weeks’ time. Shortly after this some men were sitting
plaiting ataps153 under the shade of another of these ill-omened trees, when,
without any warning, a large branch fell down, breaking the arm of one
man, and more or less injuring two others. There was not a breath of wind
at the time, or anything else likely to determine the fall of the branch. After
this it was decided to have the tree felled, as there were coolie houses nearly
under it. There was great difficulty in getting any one to fell it. Eventually a

Penang Malay undertook the job, but stipulated that a Pawang, or sorcerer,
should be employed to drive away the demons first. The Pawang hung
pieces of white and red cloth on sticks round the tree, burnt incense in the
little contrivances made of the split leaf-stalks of the bĕrtam palm, used by
the Malays for that purpose, cut off the heads of two white fowls, sprinkled
the blood over the trunk, and in the midst of many incantations the tree was
felled without any mishap; but, strange to say, the Pawang, who was a
haji154 and a slave-debtor of the Toh Puan Halimah, died about nine months
afterwards.”155

There appears to be very little reason to doubt that the word Tualang (’Toh
Alang or Sialang) is the name not of a particular species of tree, but rather
the generic name of all trees in which wild bees have built their nests, so
that in reality it simply means a “Bee-Tree.”

I have not yet succeeded in obtaining any of the Malay charms used by the
collectors of these bees’ nests, except such as are used by Sakais under
Malay influence on the Selangor coast, the Sakais being most usually the
collectors. Some of these latter, however, were pure Malay charms, and
may perhaps be considered, in the absence of charms collected from
Malays, as evidence of at least secondary importance. One of these charms
commences as follows:—

“Here is the Peeling-knife, the knife with the long handle,
Stuck into the buttress of a Pulai-Tree.”156

And another, which is almost word for word the same, as follows:—

“Here is the Peeling-knife, the knife with the long handle,
With which to stab (lit. peck at) the buttress of the Pulai-Tree.”157

It will be noticed that both refer to the Pulai-tree by name, and not to the
Tualang. The footnote which I here quote with reference to the customs of
Siak is, almost word for word, equally true of the Bee-Trees in Selangor.158

Other haunted trees (pokok bĕrhantu) are the Jawi-jawi, the Jĕlotong, and
Bĕrombong, of which the following tradition will perhaps suffice:—

“All trees,” according to Malay tradition, “were planted by ‘the Prophet
Elias,’159 and are in the ‘Prophet Noah’s’ charge. In the days of King
Solomon, trees could speak as well as birds and animals, and several of the
trees now to be seen in the forest are really metamorphosed human beings.
Such are the ‘Jĕlotong’ and the ‘Bĕrombong,’ which in the days of King
Solomon were bosom friends, until there broke out between them an
unfortunate quarrel, which terminated in ‘Si Jĕlotong’s’ lacing the skin of
‘Si Bĕrombong’ all over with stabs from his dagger, the effect of which
stabs remains visible to this day. Si Bĕrombong, on the other hand, cursed
Si Jĕlotong with his dying breath, praying that he might be turned into a tree
without any buttresses to support his trunk, a prayer which was, of course,
duly fulfilled. Thus originated the lack of buttresses at the base of the
former tree, and the laced and slashed bark of the latter.”

The Lime-Tree

Yet another tree whose spirit is the object, as it were, of a special cult,160 is
the lime-tree, which is revered and looked up to almost as their chief patron
by the theatrical players (orang ma’yong) of Penang. The invocations
addressed to this spirit show that, as in most branches of magic, every part
of the tree had its appropriate “alias.” Thus the root was called the “Seated
Prince,” the trunk the “Standing Prince,” the bark the “Prince Stretching
Himself,” the boughs the “Stabbing Prince,” the leaves the “Beckoning
Prince,” the fruit the “Prince loosing an arrow.”

The Eagle-wood Tree

The following account of Eagle-wood and of the tree which produces it is
quoted from the Journal of the Straits Asiatic Society:—

“In Crawfurd’s Dictionary of the Malay Archipelago161 I find the following:
—‘Agila, the Eagle-wood of commerce.—Its name in Malay and Javanese
is kalambak or kalambah, but it is also known in these languages by that of
gharu or kayu gharu, gharu-wood, a corruption of the Sanskrit agahru....
There can be no doubt but that the perfumed wood is the result of disease in
the tree that yields it, produced by the thickening of the sap into a gum or
resin.’

“This ‘Eagle-wood of commerce,’ under its more familiar name gharu, is
one of the rarest and most valuable products of our Malayan jungles, and
the following notes may be of interest. They are the result of inquiries
amongst the Malays and Pawangs in Ulu Muar and Johol, and I am
indebted to Mr. L. J. Cazalas for much assistance in obtaining the
information contained in them.

“The gharu-tree is a tall forest tree, sometimes reaching the size of fifteen
feet in diameter. The bark is of a silvery gray colour, and the foliage close
and dense, of a dark hue. The Malay name for the tree is “tabak,” and no
other may be used by the Pawang when in search of the kayu gharu.162
Gharu, the diseased heart-wood of the tabak, is found in trees of all sizes,
even in trees of one foot in diameter, thus showing that the disease attacks
the tree at an early stage.

“The gharu is found in pockets, and may sometimes be discovered by the
veins which run to these pockets. In other trees the veins are absent, which
renders the process of searching more difficult. The tree is generally cut
down and left to rot, which exposes the gharu in about six months.

“‘Pockets’ are found to contain as much as 104 catties; a single tree has
been known to yield 400 catties.163 Gharu is seldom found in the sap-wood,
generally in the heart-wood or tĕras.

“Many tabak-trees do not contain gharu at all. To select the right trees is the
special province of the Pawang or wise man. The tabak-trees are under the
care of certain hantu or wood-spirits, and it would be hopeless for the
uninitiated to attempt to find gharu; even the Pawang has to be very
careful.

“The following is the process as far as I have been able to ascertain it:—

“On the outskirts of the forest the Pawang must burn incense, and repeat
the following charm or formula:—

“Homali hamali164 matilok (mandillah ?) serta kalam mandiyat serta teboh. Turun
suhaya165 trima suka turun kadim serta aku kabul kata gharu mustajak166 kata Allah
Berkat la ilaha il’allah. Hei Pŭtri Belingkah,167 Pŭtri Berjuntei, Pŭtri Menginjan168 aku
meminta isi tabak. Ta’boleh di surohkan, ta’boleh lindong kapada aku kalau di-suroh di-
lindong-kan biar dŭrâka kapada tuhan.”

“There is no “pantang gharu” except that the words “isi” and “tabak” must
be used instead of “tras” and “gharu.”169

“He then proceeds to search for a likely tree, and upon finding one he again
burns incense and repeats the spell as above. The tree having been cut
down, the next thing is to separate the gharu from the sap-wood. The best
way is to let the tree rot, but the Pawang is often “hard-up,” and does not
mind wasting some of the gharu in his hurry to realise.

“The following are said to be the tests for finding gharu in a standing tree:
—

1. The tree is full of knots. (Bĕrbungkol.)
2. The bark full of moss and fungus. (Bĕrtumuh bĕrchandawan.)
3. Heart-wood hollow. (Bĕrlobang.)
4. Bark peeling off. (Bĕrgugor kulit.)
5. A clear space underneath. (Mĕngelĕnggang.)
6. Stumps jutting out. (Bĕrchulak.)
7. Tree tapering. (Bĕrtirus.)
8. The falling of the leaves in old trees.

“There are great differences in the quality of gharu, and great care is taken
in classifying them. It requires a skilled man to distinguish between some of
the varieties.

“The names are as follow:—

1. Chandan.170
2. Tandok.
3. Menjulong-ulong.171
4. Sikat.
5. Sikat Lampam.172
6. Bulu Rusa.
7. Kemandangan.
8. Wangkang.

“The chandan (pada tiada champur) is oily, black, and glistening. It sinks
in water.

“The tadak very closely resembles the chandan.

“The menjulong-ulong may be distinguished from the chandan and the
tandok by its length and small breadth. Splinters, 36 inches long, have been
found evidently from veins, not pockets.173

“Sikat (bertabun champur kubal dan tĕras), fibrous, with slight lustre, will
just float in water. Black and white streaks.

“Sikat lampam—the same as sikat, only white streaks more prominent.

“Bulu Rusa will float in water, fibrous, generally of a yellow colour.

“Kemandangan floats in water, whitish, fibrous fragments small.

“Wangkang floats in water, fibrous blocks whitish in colour.

“The chandan tree differs from other gharu-trees in having a maximum
diameter of about 1½ feet, and very soft sap-wood.

“Gharu varies in price between 200 and 50 dollars a pikul174 according to
the variety. The chandan and the tandok are the most valuable.

“Chinese and Malays burn it in their houses on high days and festivals—the
latter generally take a supply with them on the pilgrimage to Mecca. The
better varieties are used in the manufacture of aromatic oils.”175

Before setting out to search for gharu, the gharu-wizard burns incense and
repeats these words, “O Grandsire Duita, Divinity of Eagle-wood, if you are
far, be so good as to say so; if you are near, be so good as to say so,” and
then sets out on his quest. On finding a karas-tree he chops the bark of the
trunk lightly with his cutlass, and then puts his ear to the trunk to listen. If
he hears a kind of low singing, or rather whispering noise (bunyi ting ting)
in the tree, he takes this as a signification that the tree contains gharu
(isi),176 and after marking the bark with a cross (silang ampat) he collects
wood to build a temporary shelter (pondong) for himself, and when about to
plant the first post repeats the following charm:—

“O Grandsire Batara of the Earth, Earth-Genie, Earth-Spirit,
Idol of Iron, Son of Wani, Solitary Wani,
Son of Wayah, Bandan the Solitary,
I ask you to show me (an eagle-wood tree),
If you do not do so
You shall be a rebel against God,” etc.

The result of this invocation is, or should be, that the gharu-spirit appears to
the wizard (generally, no doubt, in a dream), and informs him what kind of
sacrifice he requires on this particular occasion. Whatever kind of sacrifice
is asked for, must of course be given, with the exception of a human
sacrifice which, as it is expressly stated, may be compounded by the
sacrifice of a fowl.

When the tree has been felled you must be exceedingly careful to see that
nobody passes between the end of the fallen trunk and the stump; whoever
does so will surely be killed by the “eagle-wood spirit,” who is supposed to
be extremely powerful and dangerous. I myself received a warning to this

effect from some Labu Malays when I saw one of these trees felled. Malays
maintain that men are frequently killed by this spirit (mati dĕ’ Hantu
Gharu), but that they may be recalled to life if the following recipe is acted
upon:—“Take two ‘cubits’ (?) of ‘Panchong leaves’ (daun panchong dua
heta), flowers of the sunting mambang, and ‘bullock’s eye’ limes (limau
mata kĕrbau), squeeze [the limes(?)] and rub them over the corpse, saying,
‘Sir Allah! Sir Mangga Tangan! God’s Essence is in your heart (lit. liver).
God’s attributes are in your eyes. Go and entertain the male Borer-Bee that
is in your heart and liver.’ The dead man will then revive and stand upon his
feet.”

The most important point about eagle-wood, however, from the animistic
point of view, is the Pawang’s use of the gharu mĕrupa, a strangely shaped
piece of eagle-wood which possesses a natural resemblance to some animal
or bird. It is believed to contain the soul of the tree, and therefore is always,
when possible, carried by the collectors of eagle-wood in the belief that it
will aid them in their search. I myself once owned one of these gharu
mĕrupa, which possessed a remarkable resemblance to a bird. This appears
to me very fairly sufficient evidence to prove that the tree-soul is not
supposed by the Malays necessarily to resemble a tree.177

Camphor

The following account of the superstitious notions connected with the
search for Camphor (kapur Barus) is extracted from a paper by Messrs. H.
Lake and H. J. Kelsall178:—

“The chief interest attaching to the Kapur Barus in Johor lies in the
superstitions connected with the collection of the camphor by the natives, or
Orang Hulu.179

“Amongst these superstitions the most important is the use of a special
language, the subject of the present paper, which has been the means of

preserving some remnants of the aboriginal dialects of this part of the
Malay Peninsula. This language is called by the Orang Hulu “Pantang
Kapur”; pantang means forbidden or tabooed, and in this case refers to the
fact that in searching for the camphor the use of the ordinary Malay
language is pantang, or forbidden. In addition to this there are restrictions
as to food, etc.

“This Camphor language is first referred to by Mr. Logan in his account of
the aboriginal tribes of the Malay Peninsula,180 and he gives a list of eighty
words, thirty-three of which are Malay or derived from Malay.”

“The Jakuns believe that there is a “bisan,” or spirit, which presides over
the camphor-trees, and without propitiating this spirit it is impossible to
obtain the camphor. This bisan makes at night a shrill noise, and when this
sound is heard it is a sure sign that there are camphor-trees near at hand.
(This bisan is really one of the Cicadas which are so numerous in the
Malayan jungles.)

“When hunting for camphor the natives always throw a portion of their
food out into the jungle before eating, as an offering to the bisan.

“No prayers are offered up, but all food must be eaten dry, i.e. without
sumbul,181 or stewed fish, or vegetables. Salt must not be pounded fine; if it
is eaten fine, the camphor when found will be in fine grains; but if eaten
coarse the grains of camphor will be large. In rainy weather the cry of the
bisan is not heard. At certain seasons regular parties of Jakuns, and
sometimes Malays, go into the jungle to search for camphor, and they
remain there as long as three or four months at a time. Not only must the
men who go into the jungle to search for the camphor speak the ‘Pantang
Kapur,’ but also the men and women left at home in the Kampongs.

“The camphor occurs in the form of small grains deposited in the cracks in
the interior of the trunk of the tree. Camphor is only found in the older
trees, and not in all of these, and to obtain it the tree must be cut down and
split up. There are certain signs which indicate when a tree contains
camphor, one of which is the smell emitted from the wood when chipped. A

man who is skilled in detecting the presence of camphor is called Penghulu
Kapur.182 The camphor when taken away from the tree is washed, and all
chips of wood and dirt carefully removed, and it is then sold to Chinese
traders at Kwala Indau at prices varying according to the quality from $15
to $40 per katti.

“The Camphor language consists in great part of words which are either
Malay or of Malay origin, but contains, as above mentioned, a large number
of words which are not Malay, but which are presumably remnants of the
original Jakun dialects, which are apparently almost obsolete otherwise in
the Indau and Sembrong districts of Johor.”183

Gutta-percha

The trees from which Gutta-percha is taken are also supposed to be
inhabited by a spirit; but this, the Gutta-spirit, being far less dangerous than
the Eagle-wood spirit, fewer precautions are taken in dealing with it. In the
invocation addressed to the Gutta-spirit, the petitioner asks for the boon of a
drop of the spirit’s blood, which of course is an indirect way of asking for
the tree’s sap.

Here is a specimen of the charms used by the gutta-collectors:—

“Ho, Prince S’ri Bali,
Prince S’ri Bandang,
I wish to crave the boon of a drop of blood;
May the yield be better than from this notch of mine.

(Here the speaker notches the tree.)

“If it be not better
You shall be a rebel unto God,” etc.184

The Cocoa-nut Palm

The following instructions to be followed by toddy-collectors (who tap the
Cocoa-nut palm for its juice, which is boiled into sugar) were given me by a
Kelantan Malay (’Che ʿAbas of Klanang):—

“When you are about to set foot against the base of the trunk (i.e. to start
climbing) repeat these lines:—

“Peace be with you, O Abubakar!
Drowse not as you keep watch and ward in the heart of this tree (umbi).”

Here climb half-way up and say:—

“Peace be with you, Little Sister, Handmaiden Bidah,
Drowse not as you keep watch and ward in the middle of the trunk,
Come and accompany me on my way up this tree.”

Here climb up among the leaf-stalks, lay hold of the central shoot, give it
three shakes, and say—

“Peace be with you, Little Sister, Youngest of the Princesses,
Drowse not as you keep watch and ward over the central shoot,
Do you accompany me on my way down this tree.”

Now commence by bending down one of the blossom-sheaths, lay hold of
the central shoot, and thrice repeat the following lines:—

“Peace be with your Highnesses, Princesses of the Shorn Hair and
(perpetual) Distillation,
Who are (seen) in the curve (lit. swell) and the ebbing away of the
Blossom-sheath,
Of the Blossom-sheath Si Gĕdĕbeh Mayang,

Seven Princesses who are the Handmaidens of Si Mayang.”

(Here the speaker addresses the soul (or rather souls) of the tree.)

“Come hither, Little One, come hither,
Come hither, Tiny One, come hither,
Come hither, Bird, come hither,
Come hither, Filmy One, come hither.
Thus I bend your neck,
Thus I roll up your hair,
And here is an Ivory Toddy-knife to help the washing of your face.

Here is an Ivory Toddy-knife to cut you short,
And here is an Ivory Cup to hold under you,
And there is an Ivory Bath that waits below for you.
Clap your hands and splash in the Ivory Bath,
For it is called the ‘Sovereign Changing Clothes.’”185

Rules for planting various Crops

The following rules have an evident bearing upon the subject of vegetable
animism. They were collected at Langat, in Selangor:—

The time to plant Sugar-cane is at noon: this will make it sweeter, by drying
up the juice and leaving the saccharine matter. If you plant it in the early
morning its joints will be too long, if in the middle of the day they will be
short.

Plant Maize with a full stomach, and let your dibble be thick, as this will
swell the maize ear.

For Plantains (or Bananas) you must dig a big hole, and the evening is the
time to plant them. The evening is the quicker, and if planted after the
evening meal they fill out better.

Plant Sweet Potatoes on a starry night to ensure their filling out properly
(by getting plenty of eyes?)

Plant Cucumbers and Gourds on a dark moonless night, to prevent them
from being seen and devoured by fire-flies (api-api).

Plant Cocoa-nuts when the stomach is overburdened with food (kalau kita
’nak sangat berak); run quickly and throw the cocoa-nut into the hole
prepared for it without straightening the arm; if you straighten it the fruit-
stalk will break. Plant them in the evening, so that they may bear fruit while
they are still near the ground. When you pick seed cocoa-nuts off the tree
somebody should stand at the bottom of the tree and watch whether the
“monkey-face” of each seed cocoa-nut, as it is thrown down, turns either
towards himself or the base of the tree, or whether it looks away from both.
In the former case the seed will be good, in the latter it is not worth
planting.

Plant Rice in the early morning, about five, because that is the hour at
which infants (the Rice Soul being considered as an infant) get up.

The Cultivation of Rice

The most important contribution of the Malays to the animistic theory of
vegetation is perhaps to be found in the many strange ceremonies with
which they surround the culture of Rice. In order to properly understand the
significance of these ceremonies, however, a proper understanding of the
Malay system of rice-planting is essential, and I therefore quote in extenso a
description of rice-culture, which possesses the additional interest of being
translated from the composition of a Malay:186—

“It is the established custom in Malacca territory to plant rice once a year,
and the season for doing so generally falls about the month of Zilkaʿidah or
Zilhijah.187

“In starting planting operations, however, the object is, if possible, to
coincide with the season when the West wind blows, because at that time
there are frequent rains, and accordingly the earth of the rice-field becomes
soft and easy to plough. Moreover, in planting rice it is an invariable rule
that there must be water in the field, in order that the rice may sprout
properly; though, on the other hand, if there is too great a depth of water the
rice is sure to die. It has also been observed that as a rule the season of the
West wind coincides with the fourth month188 of the Chinese calendar, and
sometimes also with the month of Zilkaʿidah or Zilhijah.189

“2. In olden time the order of planting operations was as follows:—First,
the elders had to hold a consultation with the Pawang; then the date was
fixed; then Maulud190 prayers were read over the ‘mother-seed,’ and
benzoin, (incense) supplied by the Pawang, was burned; then all the
requisites for rice-planting were got ready, viz.:—

“(1) A strong buffalo (to pull the plough).
(2) A plough with its appurtenances (to turn over the earth and the
short weeds).
(3) A harrow with its appurtenances (to level and break up small the
clods of earth left by the plough).
(4) A roller with its appurtenances (to knock down the long weeds,
such as sedges, in fields that have lain fallow for a long while).
(5) A wood-cutter’s knife, to mend any of the implements that may get
out of order at the time of ploughing.
(6) A hoe to repair the embankments and level the higher grounds.
(7) A scythe191 to cut the long weeds.
(8) And a whip to urge the buffalo on if he is lazy.

“3. When the proper season has arrived for beginning the work of planting,
and the elders have come to an agreement with the Pawang, then on some
Friday after the service in the Mosque the Pĕnghulu addresses all the people

there present, saying that on such a day of the month every one who is to
take part in rice-cultivation must bring to the Mosque half a quart of grain
(for ‘mother-seed’) in order that Maulud prayers may be read over it. (At
that time kĕtupats192 and lĕpats193 are prepared for the men who are to read
those prayers.)

“When the Maulud prayers are over, every man goes down to the rice-field,
if possible on the same day or the next one, in order to begin ploughing the
nursery plot, that is, the plot which is near his house or in which he has
been in the habit of sowing the seed every year.

“But if a man has a great number of plots, he will begin by ploughing half
of them, and then at the end of the month of Zilhijah he must diligently
prepare the nursery plot so as to be ready in about ten days’ time.

Of Sowing

“4. Before sowing one must first of all lay out the grain, both the seed-grain
and the ‘mother-seed,’ each separately, to dry. It must then be soaked in a
vessel (a bucket or pot) for two days and two nights, after which it is taken
out, strained and spread quite evenly on a mat with fresh leaves (areca-nut
fronds are best), and every afternoon one must sprinkle water on it in order
that the germ may quickly break through, which will happen probably in
two days’ time or thereabouts.

“5. While the seed is soaking, the nursery plot must be carefully prepared;
that is to say, it must be ploughed over again, harrowed, levelled, ditched,
and the soil allowed to settle; the embankments must be mended, and the
surface made smooth. When the germs have sprouted the seed is taken to
the nursery plot. Benzoin supplied by the Pawang is burnt, and the plot
sprinkled with tĕpong tawar.194 Then a beginning is made by sowing the
‘chief of the seed,’ i.e. ‘mother-seed,’ in one corner of the nursery prepared
for the purpose, and about two yards square; afterwards the rest of the seed

is sown all over the plot. It is well to sow when the plot contains plenty of
water, so that all the germs of the seed may be uppermost, and the roots
may not grow long, but may be pulled up easily. The time for sowing must
be during the dark half of the month, so that the seedlings may be preserved
from being eaten by insects.195

“Three days after the seed is sown the young shoots begin to rise like
needles, and at that time all the water should be drawn off the plot; after
seven days they are likened to a sparrow’s tail, and about the tenth or
fifteenth day they break out into blades. At that period the water is again let
into the plot, little by little, in order that the stalks of the seedlings may
grow thick.

“The seedlings have to remain in the nursery for at least forty or forty-four
days from the time of sowing before they are sufficiently grown; it is best to
let them remain till they are about seventy days old.

“6. While the seedlings are in the nursery the other plots are being
ploughed, one after another; and this is called the first ploughing. Then the
embankments are mended and re-formed with earth, so that the water in the
field may not escape and leave it dry. After the embankments have been
mended the harrowing begins: a start is made with the plot that was first
ploughed (other than the nursery plot), for there the earth will have become
soft, and the weeds being rotten after many days of soaking in the water
will form a sort of manure. Each plot is so dealt with in its turn. Then all
have to be ploughed once more (which is called the second ploughing) and
harrowed again; for the first harrowing merely breaks up the clods of earth,
and a second is required to reduce them to a fine state and to kill the weeds.
Most people, having first used an iron harrow, use a wooden one for the
second harrowing, in order that the earth may be broken up quite fine. Their
rice is sure to thrive better than that of people who are less careful; for in
rice-planting, as the saying goes, there is ‘the plighted hope of good that is
to come,’ in the way of bodily sustenance I mean. So day by day the
different plots are treated in the way that has been described in connection
with the nursery plot in paragraph 5 above.

Of Planting

“7. When the seedling rice has been in the nursery long enough, and the
fields are clean and ready for planting (which will be about the month of
Safar, or August) the seedlings are pulled up and tied together with strips of
dried palas196 leaves into bundles of the size known as sachekak (i.e. the
space enclosed by the thumb and the index finger when their ends meet). If
the roots and blades are long the ends can be clipped a little, and the roots
are then steeped in manure. This manure is made of buffalo bones burnt
with chaff till they are thoroughly calcined, and then pounded fine, passed
through a sieve and mixed with mud: that is the best kind of manure for
rice-planting, and is known as ‘stock manure.’ (It can also be applied by
merely scattering it in the fields. In that case, after cutting off the ends of
the blades, the seedlings are planted, and afterwards, when they are green
again and appear to be thriving, the manure is scattered over the whole
field. There are some places, too, where no manure at all is used because of
the perennial richness of the soil.)

“Afterwards the seedlings are allowed to remain exposed to the air for
about two nights, and then taken to the field to be planted. The bundles are
broken up, and bunches of four or five plants together are planted at
intervals of a span all over the different plots till all are filled up. If there are
very many plots, ten or fifteen female labourers can be engaged to assist in
planting, and likewise in pulling up the seedlings, at a wage of four cents
for every hundred bundles.

Of the Rice after it has been Transplanted

“8. Ten days after the young rice has been transplanted it recovers its fresh
green colour; in thirty days the young shoots come out; in the second month
it increases more and more, and in the third it becomes even all over. After
three months and a half its growth is stayed, and in the fourth month it is
styled bunting kĕchil.

“At that stage the stalk has only five joints, and from that period it must be
fumigated daily till the grain appears.

“About the time when the stalk has six joints it is called bunting bĕsar; in
forty days more the grain is visible here and there, and twenty days later it
spreads everywhere. At this time all the water in the field must be drawn off
so that the grain may ripen quickly. After five or six days it ripens in
patches, and a few days later the rice is altogether ripe.

“From the time of transplanting to the time when it is ripe is reckoned six
months, not counting the days spent in ploughing and in growing it in the
nursery, which may be a month or two, or even (if there are many plots) as
much as three months to the end of the ploughing.

Of Reaping and taking the Soul of the Rice

“9. When one wishes to begin reaping the grain one must first have the
Pawang’s permission, and burn benzoin supplied by him in the field.

“The following implements must be got ready, viz.:—

“(1) A small basket to hold the rice cut first, known as the ‘Soul of the Rice’
(sĕmangat padi).

(2) A jari lipan197 to put round the small basket.

(3) A string of tĕrap198 bark to tie up the rice that is cut first.

(4) A small stem of bamboo, of the variety known as buloh kasap, with a
flag attached, which is to be planted in the small basket as a sign of the
‘Soul of the Rice’ that has been cut first.

(5) A small white cloth to wrap up the ‘Soul of the Rice.’

(6) An anchak199 to hold the brasier.

(7) A brasier, in which to burn the incense provided by the Pawang.

(8) A nail and a kind of nut, known as buah kĕras,200 to be put into the
anchak together with the brasier.

“When the rice is ripe all over, one must first take the ‘Soul’ out of all the
plots of one’s field. You choose the spot where the rice is best and where it
is ‘female’ (that is to say, where the bunch of stalks is big) and where there
are seven joints in the stalk. You begin with a bunch of this kind and clip
seven stems to be the ‘soul of the rice’; and then you clip yet another
handful to be the ‘mother-seed’ for the following year. The ‘Soul’ is
wrapped in a white cloth tied with a cord of tĕrap bark, and made into the
shape of a little child in swaddling clothes, and put into the small basket.
The ‘mother-seed’ is put into another basket, and both are fumigated with
benzoin, and then the two baskets are piled the one on the other and taken
home, and put into the kĕpuk (the receptacle in which the rice is stored).

“10. One must wait three days (called the pantang tuai) before one may clip
or cut any more of the rice. At first only one or two basketfuls of rice are
cut; the rice is dried in the sun, winnowed in a winnowing basket, and
cleaned in a fanning machine, pounded to free it from the husk, so that it
becomes bĕras (husked rice), and then boiled so that it becomes nasi
(cooked rice), and people are invited to feast on it.

“11. Then a bucket is made for the purpose of threshing the rest of the rice,
and a granary built to keep it in while it remains in the field, and five or six
labourers are engaged to reap and thresh it (banting).201 Their hours of

working are from 6 to 11.30 A.M., and all the rice they thresh they put into
the granary.

“12. If the crop is a good one a gallon of seed will produce a hundredfold.
Each plot in a field takes about a gallon of seed.

“13. When the rice has all been cut it is winnowed in order to get rid of the
chaff, and then laid out in the sun till quite dry, so that it may not get
mouldy if kept for a year.

“Then the wages of the labourers are taken out of it at the rate of two
gallons out of every ten. When that is settled, if the rice is not to be sold, it
is taken home and put into the rice-chest.

“Whenever you want to eat of it, you take out a basketful at a time and dry
it in the sun. Then you turn it in the winnowing basket, and clean it in the
fanning machine, pound it to convert it into bĕras, and put a sufficiency of
it in a pot and wash it. Enough water is then poured over it to cover it, and it
is put on the kitchen fire till it is boiled and becomes nasi, when it can be
eaten.

“14. The custom of reaping with a sickle (sabit) and threshing the rice as
described in paragraph 11 is a modern method, and is at present mainly
practised by the people living in the neighbourhood of the town of Malacca,
in order to get the work done quickly; but in olden times it was not allowed,
and even to this day the people who live in the inland parts of the territory
of Malacca prefer to clip their rice with a tuai,202 and put it into their
baskets a handful at a time [i.e. without threshing it]. (If labourers are
employed to do this their wage is one-tenth of the rice cut.) It takes ever so
many days to get the work done, but the idea is that this method is the pious
one, the ‘Soul of the Rice’ not being disturbed thereby. A good part of the
people hold this belief, and assert that since the custom of threshing the rice
has been introduced, the crops have been much less abundant than in years
of olden time when it was the custom to use the tuai only.

“15. If a man has broad fields so that he is unable to plant them all by his
own labour, he will often allow another to work them on an agreement,
either of equal division of the produce (each bearing an equal share of the
hire of a buffalo and all other expenses incidental to rice-planting), or of
threefold division (that is, for example, the owner bears all expenses, in
which case the man who does the work can get a third of the produce; or the
latter bears all expenses, in which case the owner only gets a third of the
produce). Or again, the land can be let; for instance, a field which ordinarily
produces a koyan203 of rice a year will fetch a rent of about two hundred
gallons more or less.

“16. Every cultivator who does not act in accordance with the ordinance
laid down in paragraphs 9 and 10 above, will be in the same case as if he
disregarded all the prohibitions laid down in connection with planting. If a
man does not carry out this procedure he is sure to fail in the end; his labour
will be in vain and will not fulfil his desires, for the virtue of all these
ordinances and prohibitions lies in the fact that they protect the rice, and
drive away all its enemies, such as grubs, rats, swine, and the like.”204

I will now deal with the ceremonies indicated in the foregoing article from
the ceremonial point of view exclusively.

The Sowing of the Rice-Seed

The ceremony to be observed at the sowing of the rice-seed was thus
described to me by the Pawang who performed the reaping ceremony
described below:—

“First arrange four poles upon the ground, so as to form a rectangular frame
(galang dapor), in the middle of the clearing. Then plant in succession at
the four corners—

“1. A young banana-tree.

2. A plant of lemon grass (sĕrai).
3. A stem of sugar-cane (of the kind called lanjong).
4. A plant of saffron (kunyit).

Perform the operation carefully, so that they are all likely to live.

“In the centre of the ground enclosed by the frame deposit a cocoa-nut shell
full of water.

“Early next morning go out and observe the omens. If the frame has moved
aside (bĕrkuak) ever so little, or if the water has been spilt, it is a bad omen.
But if not, and if the water in the cocoa-nut shell has not been spilt, or if a
black ant (sĕmut) or a white ant (anei-anei) is found in the water, it is a
good sign.

“When good omens have been obtained, proceed by planting rice-seed in
seven holes with a dibble of satambun wood, repeating the following
charm:—

“In the name of God, etc.,
Peace be with you, Prophet ’Tap,
Here I lodge with you, my child, S’ri Gading, Gĕmala Gading,205
But within from six months to seven
I will come and receive it back,
Cluck, cluck, soul! cluck, cluck, soul! cluck, cluck, soul!”

The Planting out of the Young Rice

The following account (by Mr. C. O. Blagden) of the ceremony of planting
out the young rice (from the rice-nursery) appeared in the Journal of the
Straits Asiatic Society in 1896:—

“In agricultural operations the animistic ideas of the Malays are clearly
apparent: thus, before the rice is cut a sort of ritual is performed which is

known as puji padi, and which is regarded, apparently, as a kind of
propitiatory service, a sort of apology to the padi (rice) for reaping it. The
padi is usually sprinkled with tĕpong tawar (flour mixed with water) before
the reaping is commenced, and the first lot cut is set apart for a ceremonial
feast.

“At planting there are also ceremonies: as a rule the beginning of the
planting season is ushered in by a visit of the whole body of villagers to the
most highly revered kramat in the neighbourhood, where the usual offerings
are made and prayers are said. Sometimes, however, there is a special
service known as băpua,206 consisting of a sort of mock combat, in which
the evil spirits are believed to be expelled from the rice-fields by the
villagers: this is not done every year, but once in three or four years.

“Another occasional service of a peculiar character, which is not of very
frequent occurrence, is the ceremony which would perhaps be best
described as the propitiation of the earth-spirit. Some years ago I happened,
by chance, to be present at a function of this kind, and as its details may be
of some interest as illustrating the wide dispersion of certain points of ritual,
I will end these notes by giving a full description of it as noted down at the
time. It was in the month of October, and I happened to be out shooting
snipe in the padi-fields of the village of Sĕbatu on a Sunday morning, when
I was met by the Pĕnghulu, the headman of the village, who asked me to
leave off shooting for an hour or so. As I was having fair sport, I naturally
wanted to know the reason why, so he explained that the noise of gunshots
would irritate the hantu, and render unavailing the propitiatory service
which was then about to begin. Further inquiry elicited the statement that
the hantu in question was the one who presided over rice-lands and
agricultural operations, and as I was told that there would be no objection to
my attending the ceremony, I went there and then to the spot to watch the
proceedings. The place was a square patch of grass-lawn a few yards wide,
which had evidently for years been left untouched by the plough, though
surrounded by many acres of rice-fields. On this patch a small wooden altar
had been built: it consisted simply of a small square platform of wood or
bamboo raised about three or four feet above the ground, each corner being
supported by a small sapling with the leaves and branches left on it and

overshadowing the platform, the sides of which appeared to face accurately
towards the four cardinal points. To the western side was attached a small
bamboo ladder leading from the ground to the edge of the platform. At the
four corners of the patch of grass were four larger saplings planted in the
ground. On the branches of all these trees were hung a number of kĕtupats,
which are small squarish bags plaited of strips of the leaves of the screw-
pine (mĕngkuang) or some similar plant, like the material of which native
bags and mats are made. A larger kĕtupat hung over the centre of the altar,
and all of them were filled with a preparation of boiled rice. On the altar
were piled up various cooked foods laid on plantain leaves, including the
flesh of a goat cooked in the ordinary way, as well as rice and different
kinds of condiments and sweetmeats. The Pawang was present as well as a
number of the villagers, and soon after my arrival with the Pĕnghulu the
ceremony began by some of the villagers producing out of a bag the skin of
a black male goat with the head and horns attached and containing the
entrails (the flesh having been cooked and laid on the altar previously). A
large iron nail four or five inches long, and thick in proportion, was placed
vertically in a hole about two feet deep which had been dug under the altar,
and the remains of the goat were also buried in it, with the head turned
towards the east, the hole being then closed and the turf replaced. Some of
the goat’s blood, in two cocoa-nut shells (tĕmpurong), was placed on the
ground near the south side and south-west corner of the altar close to the
ladder.

“The Pawang, after assisting at these preliminaries, then took his stand at
the west side of the altar, looking eastward: he covered his head, but not his
face, with his sarong wrapped round it like a shawl, and proceeded to light
a torch, the end of which was tipped with incense (kĕmĕnyan). With this he
touched the bottom of the altar platform four times. He then took a cup of
tĕpong tawar and dipped in it a small bundle of four kinds of leaves, with
which he then sprinkled the north-west and south-east corners of the
platform. He then coughed three times—whether this was part of the ritual,
or a purely incidental occurrence, I am unable to say, as it was not
practicable to stop the ceremony for the purpose of asking questions—and
again applied the torch under the altar and sprinkled with tĕpong tawar all
the corners of it, as well as the rungs of the ladder.

“At this stage of the proceedings four men stationed in the rice-field beyond
the four corners of the patch of turf, each threw a kĕtupat diagonally across
to one another, while the rest of the assembly, headed by the Pĕnghulu,
chanted the kalimah, or Muhammadan creed, three times.

“Then a man holding a large bowl started from a point in the rice-field just
outside the north side of the patch of turf, and went round it (first in a
westerly direction). As he walked, he put handfuls of the rice into his mouth
and spat or vomited them out, with much noise, as if to imitate violent
nausea, into the field. He was followed closely by another who also held a
bowl filled with pieces of raw tapioca root and bĕras bĕrtih (rice roasted in
a peculiar way),207 which he threw about into the field. Both of them went
right round the grass plot. The Pawang then took his cup of tĕpong tawar
and sprinkled the anak padi, that is, the rice-shoots which were lying in
bundles along the south and east sides of the altar ready for planting.
Having sprinkled them he cut off the ends, as is usually done; and after
spitting to the right and to the left, he proceeded to plant them in the field. A
number of others then followed his lead and planted the rest of the rice-
plants, and then a sweetmeat made of cocoa-nut and sugar was handed
round, and Muhammadan prayers were said by some duly qualified person,
an orang ʿalim or a lĕbei, and the ceremony was concluded.

“It was explained to me that the blood and the food were intended for the
hantu, and the ladder up to the altar was for his convenience; in fact the
whole affair was a propitiatory service, and offers curious analogies with
the sacrificial ceremonials of some of the wild aboriginal tribes of Central
India who have not been converted to Hinduism or Islām. That it should
exist in a Malay community within twenty miles of the town of Malacca,
where Muhammadanism has been established for about six208 centuries, is
certainly strange. Its obvious inconsistency with his professed religion does
not strike the average Malay peasant at all. It is, however, the fact that these
observances are not regarded with much favour by the more strictly
Muhammadan Malays of the towns, and especially by those that are
partially of Arab descent. These latter have not much influence in country
districts, but privately I have heard some of them express disapproval of
such rites and even of the ceremonies performed at kramats. According to

them, the latter might be consistent with Muhammadan orthodoxy on the
understanding that prayers were addressed solely to the Deity; but the
invocation of spirits or deceased saints and their propitiation by offerings
could not be regarded as otherwise than polytheistic idolatry. Of course
such a delicate distinction—almost as subtle as that between dulia and
latria in the Christian worship of saints—is entirely beyond the average
Malay mind; and everything is sanctioned by immemorial custom, which in
an agricultural population is more deeply-rooted than any book-learning; so
these rites are likely to continue for some time, and will only yield
gradually to the spread of education. Such as they are, they seem to be
interesting relics of an old-world superstition.

“I have mentioned only a few such points, and only such as have been
brought directly to my knowledge; there are hosts of other quaint notions,
such as the theory of lucky and unlucky days and hours, on which whole
treatises have been written, and which regulate every movement of those
who believe in them; the belief in amulets and charms for averting all
manner of evils, supernatural and natural; the practice during epidemics of
sending out to sea small elaborately constructed vessels which are supposed
to carry off the malignant spirits responsible for the disease (of which I
remember a case a few years ago in the village of Sempang, where the
beneficial effect was most marked); the widespread belief in the power of
mĕnuju, that is, doing injury at a distance by magic, in which the Malays
believe the wild junglemen especially to be adepts; the belief in the efficacy
of forms of words as love-charms and as a protection against spirits and
wild beasts—in fact, an innumerable variety of superstitious ideas exist
among Malays.”209

The Reaping Ceremony

On the 28th January 1897 I witnessed (at Chodoi, in the Kuala Langat
district of Selangor) the ceremony of fetching home the Rice-soul.

Time of Ceremony.—I arrived at the house belonging to the Malay owner of
the rice-field a little past 8 A.M., the hour at which the ceremony was to
take place having been fixed at angkat kĕning (about 9 A.M.) a few days
previously. On my arrival I found the Pawang (sorceress), an aged Selangor
woman, seated in front of the baskets required for the ceremony.210

Accessories.—At her extreme left stood one of the circular brass trays with
high sides which are called dulang by the Malays, containing the following
objects:—

1. A small bowl of “parched rice” (b’ras bĕr’tih).
2. A small bowl of “saffron rice” (b’ras kunyit).
3. A small bowl of “washed rice” (b’ras basoh).
4. A small bowl of “oil of frankincense.”
5. A small bowl of “oil of Celebes” (minyak Bugis).
6. A small bowl of “incense” (kĕm’nyan).
7. A small bundle of incense (in addition to the bowl).
8. One of the hard jungle-nuts called buah k’ras (the candle-nut).
9. One of the shells called k’rang (a cockle shell).
10. A hen’s egg.
11. A stone (a small block of quartz).
12. A large iron nail.
13 to 15. Three Malay reaping instruments (pĕnuwei).211

Close to the dulang stood a cocoa-nut shell filled with the tĕpong tawar,
which plays so prominent a part in Malay magic ceremonies, and a brush
made up of the leaves of seven different plants, bound up as usual with a
cord of kulit t’rap (the bark of the Wild Breadfruit), and ribu-ribu (a kind of
small creeper). The plants which supplied the leaves of which the brush was
composed, were as follows:—

1. Sapĕnoh. 2. Sapanggil. 3. Jĕnjuang (or lĕnjuang) merah (the Red
Dracæna). 4. Gandarusa. 5. Pulut-pulut. 6. Sĕlaguri. 7. Sambau dara (a
kind of grass).

But the most interesting object was a small oval-shaped basket bound with
the ribu-ribu creeper, and about fourteen inches long, which was standing
just in front of the three rice-baskets and close to the Pawang, and which, as
I afterwards found out, was intended to serve as the cradle of the Rice-soul
(or “Rice-baby”). I examined it, however, and found that as yet it only
contained the following objects:—

1. A strip of white cloth (folded up and lying at the bottom of the
basket).
2. Some parti-coloured thread (bĕnang panchawarna or pancharona).
3. A hen’s egg.
4. One of the hard jungle-nuts (candle-nuts) already referred to.
5. A cockle shell (k’rang).
6. A long iron nail.
7. Five cubits of red cloth by means of which the soul-basket was to be
slung round the neck of its bearer. (The correcter custom would require
an expensive cloth of the kind called jong sarat, or the “Loaded Junk,”
according to my informant the Pawang.)

Three new Malay skirts or sarongs were added, (one to each basket), and
everything being ready, the various receptacles described above were
entrusted to five female bearers (Pĕnjawat), who descended from the house,
with the Pawang at their head, and set out for the rice-field. Before they had
gone many yards they were joined by the owner of the field, who walked in
front of them bearing what was called the junjongan padi. This was the
stem and leaves of a dark red kind of sugar-cane, which was used in
substitution for the black or “raven” variety (tĕbu gagak) which, the
Pawang explained, would have been used in preference if it had been
obtainable. Meanwhile the procession passed on, and the Pawang repeated
as we went the following prayer to the spirits:—

“In the name of God, the merciful, the compassionate,
Peace be with thee, O Prophet ’Tap, in whose charge is the Earth,
I know the origin of the Rice, S’ri Gading, Gĕmala Gading,
That (dwelleth at) the end of the clearing, and that (dwelleth at) the
beginning (top) of the clearing;

That is scattered broadcast, that is cast headlong,
That is over-run (!) by the ants called Silambada.
Ho, Dang ’Pok, Dang Mĕleni,212 (and)
Dang Salamat, who carriest the pole slung on thy back,
Gather together and press hitherwards your attendants.
May safety and our daily bread be granted us by God.”

On reaching the rice the procession filed through a lane already made in the
rice, until the “mother-sheaf” was reached from which the Rice-soul was to
be taken. But immediately on arriving at the spot, and before depositing the
rice-baskets on the ground, the Pawang repeated these lines:—

“Herons from all this region,
Roost ye upon the shaft of my bow;
Retire ye, O Spectral Reapers,
That we may deposit our baskets upon the ground.”

Here the baskets were deposited, and the Pawang took up her station in
front of the mother-sheaf, of which mention has just been made.

Covering her head with a flowing white cloth of which the ends fell upon
her shoulders, the Pawang now stood up facing the sheaf, and waved the
ends of this cloth thrice upward to the right, thrice upward to the left, and
finally thrice upward to the right again. Then for a few moments she stood
still, close to the sheaf with her head bent forward and buried among the
ears, after which she reseated herself and dabbled the tĕpong tawar thrice
upon the roots of the sheaf. One of the female bearers now planted the stem
of the sugar-cane upright in the centre of the sheaf,213 whilst the Pawang
sprinkled it with the tĕpong tawar, and then holding the sharpened end of it
over the incense, fumigated it, saying:—

“Peace be with thee, O Prophet ’Tap!
Lo, I plant this Sugar-cane
For you to lean against,
Since I am about to take away this Soul of yours, S’ri Gading,
And carry it home to your palace,

Cluck, cluck, soul! cluck, cluck, soul! cluck, cluck, soul!”

Here the Pawang and Pĕnjawat (Female Bearer), together proceeded to
plant the sugar-cane in the centre of the sheaf, and (pressing the sheaf more
tightly round the sugar-cane) drew the waist of the sheaf together and belted
it with some of the outer stems of the sheaf itself; then the Pawang applied
the tĕpong tawar once more to the sheaf, and after fumigating it in the usual
manner, ran her hands up it. Next she took in one hand (out of the brass
tray) the stone and the egg, cockle-shell and candle-nut, and with the other
planted the big iron nail in the centre of the sheaf close to the foot of the
sugar-cane. Then she took in her left hand the cord of tree-bark, and after
fumigating it, together with all the vessels of rice and oil, took up some of
the rice and strewed it round about the sheaf, and then tossed the remainder
thrice upwards, some of it falling upon the rest of the company and myself.

This done, she took the end of the cord in both hands, and encircling the
sheaf with it near the ground, drew it slowly upward to the waist of the
sheaf, and tied it there, after repeating what is called the “Ten Prayers”
(doʿa sapuloh) without once taking breath:—

“The first, is God,
The second, is Muhammad,
The third, Holy Water of the five Hours of Prayer by Day and Night,
The fourth, is Pancha Indra,
The fifth, the Open Door of Daily Bread,
The sixth, the Seven Stories of the Palace-Tower,
The seventh, the Open Door of the Rice-sifting Platform,
The eighth, the Open Door of Paradise,
The ninth, is the Child in its Mother’s Womb,
The tenth, is the Child created by God, the reason of its creation being our
Lord.
Grant this, ʿIsa!214
Grant this, Moses!
Grant this, Joseph!
Grant this, David!

Grant me, from God (the opening of) all the doors of my daily bread, on
earth, and in heaven.”

This prayer completed,215 she dug up with the great toe of the left foot a
small lump of soil, and picking it up, deposited it in the centre of the sheaf.

Next she took the contents of the soul-basket (the egg and stone, candle-nut
and shell as before), and after anointing them with oil and fumigating them,
replaced them in the basket; then taking the pĕnuwei sulong (“Eldest Rice-
cutter”), anointed the blade with the oil of frankincense, and inserting the
thumb of the right hand into her mouth, pressed it for several moments
against the roof of her palate. On withdrawing it she proceeded to cut the
first seven “heads” of rice, repeating “the Ten Prayers” as she did so. Then
she put the seven “heads” together, and kissed them; turned up the whites of
her eyes thrice, and thrice contracting the muscles of her throat with a sort
of “click,” swallowed the water in her mouth.216 Next she drew the small
white cloth which she took from the soul-basket for the purpose across her
lap, and laying the little bundle of seven ears in it, anointed them with oil
and tied them round with parti-coloured thread (bĕnang panchawarna),
after which she fumigated them with the incense, and strewing rice of each
kind over them, folded the ends of the cloth over them, and deposited them
as before in the basket, which was handed to the first bearer. Then standing
up, she strewed more rice over the sheaf, and tossing some backwards over
her head, threw the remainder over the rest of the party, saying “tabek”
(“pardon”) as she did so, and exclaiming “kur sĕmangat, kur sĕmangat, kur
sĕmangat!” (“cluck, cluck, soul!”) in a loud voice. Next she pushed the
cocoa-nut shell (which had contained the tĕpong tawar) into the middle of
the sheaf, and removed all traces of the lane which had been trodden round
the sheaf (to make it accessible) by bending down the surrounding ears of
rice until the gap was concealed.

Then the First Bearer, slinging the basket of the Rice-child about her neck
(by means of the red cloth before referred to), took an umbrella217 from one
of the party, and opened it to shield the Rice-child from the effects of the
sun, and when the Pawang had reseated herself and repeated an Arabic
prayer (standing erect again at the end of it with her hands clasped above

her head), this part of the ceremony came to an end. Moving on to another
part of the field, the Pawang now cut the next seven “heads” and deposited
them in one of the three rice-baskets, which she then handed to one of the
female bearers, telling her and her two companions to reap the field in
parallel straight lines facing the sun, until they had filled the three rice-
baskets, after which they were to return to the house. Leaving the three
reapers at their task, I followed the Pawang and Eldest Bearer (the latter
still shielding the Rice-child from the sun with the umbrella) and arrived in
time to witness the reception of the party as they reached the foot of the
house-ladder. Here (on the threshold) we were met by the wife of the owner,
and other women of his family, the former thrice calling out as we
approached, “Apa khabar?” (“What news?”), and thrice receiving the reply,
“Baik” (“It is well”). On receiving this reply for the third time she threw
saffron-rice over the Pawang and repeated these lines:—

“Chop the ‘tree’ Galenggang (a kind of shrub),
Chop it to pieces in front of the door:
Yonder comes One swinging (her) arms;
That (methinks) is a child of mine.”

To which the Pawang immediately replied:—

“Chop the young bamboo-shoots as fine as you can,
If you wish to stupefy the fish in the main stream.
In good sooth I have crossed the stream,
For great was my desire to come hither.”

And the bearer of the Rice-child added—doubtless on the Rice-child’s
behalf:—

“This measure is not a measure filled with pepper,
But a measure filled with rice-husks.
My coming is not merely fortuitous,
But great (rather) was my desire, the wish of my heart.”

She then entered the house and laid the Rice-child (still in its basket) on a
new sleeping-mat with pillows at the head. About twenty minutes later the

three Bearers returned,218 each of their rice-baskets covered with a sarong.
These baskets were carried into the bedroom and deposited in order of size
on the mat at the foot of the soul-basket, the largest basket being the nearest
to the soul-basket. Finally, the Pawang removed the sarongs which covered
each basket and deposited them on the Rice-child’s pillow, and sticking the
“pĕnuweis” into her hair, fumigated the entire row of baskets and the Rice-
child, and covered them over with the long white cloth, after which the wife
of the master of the house was told to observe certain rules of taboo for
three days.

Plate 5.—Rice-Soul Baskets.

Model, showing the baskets used at the ceremony of bringing home the rice-soul. The oval-
shaped basket on the left is that which contains the rice-soul, together with the egg, iron nail, and
candle-nut, etc., used as charms to keep away evil spirits from the rice-soul or “rice-child.”

Page 244.

The following were the taboos imposed upon her:—

1. Money, rice, salt, oil, tame animals, etc., were forbidden to leave the
house, though they might enter it without ill consequences.
2. Perfect quiet must be observed, as in the case of a new-born child.
3. Hair might not be cut.
4. The reapers, till the end of the reaping, were forbidden to let their
shadows fall upon the rice. (Yang mĕnuwei sampei habis mĕnuwei,
tiada buleh mĕnindeh bayang.)
5. The light placed near the head of the Rice-child’s bed might not be
allowed to go out at night, whilst the hearth-fire might not be allowed
to go out at all, night or day, for the whole three days.

The above taboos are in many respects identical with those which have to
be observed for three days after the birth of a real child.

I may add that every day, when the reapers start their reaping, they have to
repeat the following charm:—

“A swallow has fallen, striking the ground,
Striking the ground in the middle of our house-yard;
But ye, O Shadows and Spectral Reapers,
See that ye mingle not with us.”

When reaping, they must cover their heads and must face the sun, no matter
what hour of the day it is, in order to prevent their own shadows from
falling upon the rice in the basket at their side.

Pounding the first of the padi.—I witnessed this ceremony three days later,
at about 9 A.M. The three baskets filled with the first reapings were
removed from the mat on which they had been placed, and their contents
emptied out upon a new mat, to each corner of which four rice-ears were
tied, and trodden out (di-irekkan) by the owner of the field. Then the rice
was poured back into two of the baskets, and the straw of the rice “heads”
was plaited into a wreath.219

Drying the first of the padi.—Preparations being complete, the two baskets
full of newly-cut rice were carried down the steps and out to an open part of

the field, a little way from the house, and there spread on a mat in the sun to
dry. To spread it properly is not an easy matter, the operator (who in this
case was the owner), standing on the mat and spreading the grains with a
long sweeping motion of the hand from one side of the mat to the other (the
process being called di-kekar, di-kachau, or mĕmbalikkan jĕmoran). In the
present case several objects were placed in the centre of the mat, consisting
of—

1. A basket-work stand (one of those used for the cooking-pots, and
called lĕkar jantan).
2. A bowl of water deposited upon this stand and intended “for the
Rice-soul (sĕmangat padi) to drink when it becomes thirsty with the
heat of the sun.”
3. A big iron nail.
4. A candle-nut (buah k’ras).
5. Six trodden-out rice “heads,” a couple of which tied in a slip knot
(simpul pulih) are fastened to each corner of the matting.

Pounding of the rice from the three baskets.—When the rice had been
sufficiently dried, it was once more collected in the baskets, and carried
back to the house to be pounded.220 That operation took place the same
evening, when the rice was pounded and winnowed221 in the ordinary way,
the only noteworthy addition being the tying of bunches of the grass called
sambau dara to the upper ends of the long wooden pestles which the
Malays use for the pounding operation.

Disposal of the empty rice-stalks from the three baskets.—The chaff thus
obtained was deposited in a heap by the owner of the field in a place where
three paths met, crowned with a wreath made of the empty rice-stalks, and
covered by a big stone which was intended, I was told, to keep it from being
blown away.

The sugar-cane was left to grow in the midst of the mother-sheaf, until the
latter should be reaped by the wife of the owner; when this takes place, it is
carried back to the house and used for next year’s reaping. Meanwhile the
“heads” of the mother-sheaf are pounded, and the grain thus obtained is