Chapter IV: Myths and Legends (2)

Mr Man gives still another version of the same story. “One day, at the commencement of the rainy season, a tomola named Berebi came to visit Ko̱lwo̱t’s mother, Čana Erep, with the express intention of seeing her son, of whom he was extremely jealous. When he appeared Berebi treacherously bit him in the arm, but his teeth became fixed in the flesh and he was therefore unable to detach himself from his victim, whose friends promptly avenged his murder, and disposed of the corpses by throwing them into the sea. (Ko̱lwo̱t, after death, was transformed into a species of tree-lizard, which is still named after him, and Berebi became a fish called Koŋo, which is armed with a row of poisonous barbs in its back.) The bereaved mother, in her rage, grief and despair, committed various acts, against which Tomo had been warned by Puluga, and while so doing incited others to follow her example by the following words:—

e, e, e, dia ra-gumul l’ab-dala,
e, e, e, ŋul kaǰa piǰ pugatken,
e, e, e, ŋul čoaken toaiken,
e, e, e, ŋul boarato aga-kolaken,
e, e, e, ŋul gono boaŋken,
e, e, e, ŋul toŋ čoara boaŋken,
e, e, e, ŋig arlot pulaiǰoken.

The translation of which is:—

e, e, e (sobbing)— My grown-up handsome son,
,, ,, ,, ,, Burn the wax,
,, ,, ,, ,, Grind the seed of the čakan (Entada),
,, ,, ,, ,, Destroy the barata (Caryota),
,, ,, ,, ,, Dig up the gono (yam),
,, ,, ,, ,, Dig up the čati (yam),
,, ,, ,, ,, Destroy everything.

Thereupon Puluga was exceeding wroth, and sent the flood, that which destroyed all living things with the exception of two men and two women.

“This tradition is preserved in the following lines:—

Keledoat ibaji lar čora,
Ra-gumul ab-gorga en ig-boadi
Ra-gumul le liga koarna
Ra-gumul ab-gorka
Toala arbo eb dagan čoarpo.

The meaning of which is:—

Bring the boat to the beach
I will see your fine grown-up son,
The grown-up son who threw the youths (into the sea)
The fine grown-up son,
My adze is rusty, I will stain my lips with his blood.

In this, as in all their songs and chants, a good deal is left to the imagination, but from their explanations which have been given by the aborigines, the following appear to afford some light on the subject:—Berebi, being jealous of the renown Ko̱lwo̱t had won for himself by his numerous accomplishments and great strength, took advantage of meeting him and his mother one day on the water to ask them to let him enter their boat. On their complying with his request, he provided himself with a rusty adze and hone, remarking on the rusty condition of the former; then taking Ko̱lwo̱t by the arm he sniffed it from the wrist to the shoulder as if admiring the development of the muscles; while doing so he muttered the threat of staining his lips with blood, which he shortly after fulfilled in the manner already described [125].”

As the songs given in this legend are in the Akar-Bale language (Southern dialect), it is probable that the legend is an Akar-Bale one. It is really another version of the legend already given.

Another Akar-Bale story tells how the first ancestors Duku, the monitor lizard, and Bain the civet-cat, managed to keep the fire alight when a flood overwhelmed them. “One day in the time of the ancestors there came a great storm, and the water rose over the land. The rain put out the fires. Da Duku (Sir Monitor Lizard) took a smouldering log and tried to climb up a tree with it. He could not climb with the fire in his hand. His wife In Bain (Lady Civet-cat) took the fire from him and took it up to the top of a hill and there kept it alight till the rain stopped and the water went away. The hill is called Bain l’it-čapa (Bain’s fire) to the present day.” The hill is a rather steep-sided hill of no great height in Havelock Island.

Mr Portman [126] connects the story of the flood with the story of the dispersion of the ancestors over the islands. Referring to the names of the tribes he says, “The Andamanese state that these names were given to the different tribes by Maia Tomo-la when they were dispersed after a cataclysm. They have a tradition that this group of tribes was once all one tribe, and that the Andaman Islands were much larger than at present. Some great cataclysm occurred during which part of the islands subsided and many aborigines were drowned, the remainder being separated into different territories as at present by the orders of Maia Tomo-la, apparently the chief at that time of the collected tribe. (The above is of course a matter-of-fact version of the fanciful and impossible legends of the Andamanese.)”

The dispersion legend in the South Andaman is connected with the name of the A-Pučikwar tribe. The name (of which the Aka-Bea equivalent is Aka-Boǰig-yab) means “those who talk the original language,” it being believed that the A-Pučikwar language was the one originally spoken by the ancestors.

The only version of the dispersion legend that I heard was from the Aka-Kede tribe. It was to the effect that Bilika once seized all the ancestors and put them in a netted bag (such as the natives use for carrying small objects of various kinds). She (or he) took them out a few at a time and put them in different parts of the country, where their descendants have been ever since.

Mr Man speaks of a legend of how the tribes came to be dispersed over the islands. From his account it would seem that there were two different dispersions, one before the Deluge, and a second after it. Mr Man’s account is as follows. “Tomo lived to a great age, but even before his death his offspring became so numerous that their home could no longer accommodate them. At Puluga’s bidding they were furnished with all necessary weapons, implements, and fire, and then scattered in pairs all over the country. When this exodus occurred Puluga provided each party with a distinct dialect. It would almost seem that, without straining the legend to suit facts, we might discern in this a faint echo of the Biblical account of the confusion of tongues and dispersion at Babel [127].”

“Consequent on the disappearance of Tomo and his wife, the duties of headship over the community at Wota-emi devolved on one of their grandchildren, named Ko̱lwo̱t, who was distinguished by being the first to spear and catch turtles. The tomola remained on the islands long after Tomo’s transformation, but after Ko̱lwo̱t’s death, according to one legend, they grew disobedient, and as Puluga ceased to visit them, became more and more remiss in their observance of the commands given at the creation. At last Puluga’s anger burst forth, and, without any warning, he sent a great flood that covered the whole land, and destroyed all living. Four persons (two men, Lo̱ra-lola and Po̱i-lola, and two women, Ka-lola and Rima-lola), who happened to be in a canoe when the catastrophe occurred, were able to effect an escape. When the waters subsided, they found themselves near Wota-emi, where they landed and discovered that every living thing on earth had perished; but Puluga re-created the animals, birds, etc. [128].”

“When, for the second time in their history, their numbers had increased to so great an extent that it became impossible for them to remain together in one spot, an exodus, similar to the first, took place; each party being furnished with fire and every other essential, started in a different direction, and on settling down adopted a new and distinct dialect. They each received a tribal name, and from them have sprung the various tribes still existing on the islands [129].”

In the Southern tribes there is a legend to account for the origin of night. The following version was obtained from the A-Pučikwar tribe. “In the early days of the world, in the time of the ancestors, there was no night; it was always day. Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard) went into the jungle to dig up yams. He found some yams. He also found some resin (teki), and a cicada (ro̱to). He brought them to the camp of the ancestors at Wota-emi. He sat down and the people came round him. Ta Pe̱tie took the cicada and rubbed it between his hands and crushed it. As he did this the cicada uttered its cry. Then the day went away and it was dark. It remained dark for several days. The ancestors came together and tried to get back the day. They made torches of resin, and danced and sang songs. First Kotare (a bird) sang a song, but he could not get back the daylight. Then Bumu (a beetle?) sang, but the day would not come. Then Pecero̱l (the bulbul, Otocompsia emeria) sang, and after him Ko̱io (a bird), but both in vain. Then Ko̱ŋoro (a species of ant) sang a song and morning came. After that, day and night followed one another alternately.”

A similar legend was obtained from the Akar-Bale tribe. “Da Teŋat [130] lived at Golugma Bud. He went fishing one day and got only one small fish of the kind called čelau (Glyphidodon sordidus?). He turned to go home, and as he went he shot his arrows before him into the jungle [131]. Then he went after his arrows to find them again. As he went he spoke to the fruits of the jungle, asking them their names. In those days the ancestors did not know the names of the fruits and trees. First he asked the puiam, and then the guluba, and then the čakli, but none of them replied to him. Then he found his first arrow. It was stuck fast in a big yam (gono). He took the arrow and said to the yam ‘What is your name?’ At first the yam did not answer. Teŋat turned to go away. He had gone a few steps when the yam called him back, saying ‘My name is gono.’ Teŋat replied ‘Oh! I did not know. Why did not you say so before?’ He dug up the yam, which was a very big one. He went off to look for his second arrow. As he went he spoke to the stones of the jungle, asking their names, but none of them replied. Then he found his second arrow fixed in a large lump of resin (tug) [132]. He took the arrow, and as he was going away the resin called him back, saying ‘Here! my name is tug; you can take me along with you.’ So Teŋat took the resin. Then Teŋat found a cicada (rita), and he took that also. When Teŋat got to the hut (bud), everyone came to look at the things he had brought. He showed them the yam. He told them its name and showed them how to cook it. This was the first time that the ancestors ate gono. Then Teŋat took in his hand the cicada and squashed it between his palms. As he killed it the cicada uttered its cry and the whole world became dark. When the people saw that it was dark they tried to bring back the daylight. Teŋat took some of the resin and made torches. He taught the people how to dance and sing. When Da Ko̱ŋoro (Sir Ant) sang a song the day came back. After that the day and night came alternately.”

Mr Man records a different version of this story.

“The manner in which the world was illuminated at the beginning is not clearly to be ascertained from their legends, for one story states that the sun and moon were subsequently created at Tomo’s request, as he found that, under the then existing circumstances, it was impossible to catch fish by night or to hunt by day; while, in direct disagreement with this, another story tells us that night was a punishment brought upon mankind by certain individuals who angered Puluga by killing a caterpillar. The tale informs us that the sun, one day, burned so fiercely as to cause great distress. Two women named Čana Limi and Čana J̌araŋud, became exceedingly irritable, and while in this unhappy frame of mind they discovered a caterpillar (gurug) and a certain plant called utura. By way of venting their spleen, one crushed the helpless grub, and the other destroyed the plant. These wanton acts so displeased Puluga that he determined to punish them, and to teach them to appreciate the privilege of daylight, which they had hitherto uninterruptedly enjoyed. He accordingly visited the earth with a long-continued darkness, which caused every one much inconvenience and distress. At last their chief, Maia Ko̱lwo̱t, to whom reference has already been made, hit upon a happy expedient of inducing Puluga to restore the former state of things by trying to assure him that they were quite unconcerned, and could enjoy themselves in spite of light being withheld from them. To accomplish this, he invented the custom of dancing and singing, the result of which was that Puluga, finding that they had frustrated his intention, granted, as a first concession alternate periods of day and night, and subsequently, moved by the difficulties often occasioned by the latter, created the moon to mitigate their troubles. It is in this way that they account for the same word being used to denote a caterpillar and night [133].”

From the Akar-Bale tribe I obtained a legend about the origin of death. No other version of the same legend was obtained.

“At J̌o̱ŋo-l’ar-bo̱ŋ lived In Kalwadi with her sons Yaramurud and Toau [134]. Yaramurud went to hunt pig for his mother, but was unsuccessful. When he came home his mother brought him some pork that was in the hut. As he took his knife from the back of his neck to cut the meat with it, he cut himself [135]. Then his mother knew that he was dead. She said to him ‘You are dead now. You had better go away. We do not want you here any more.’ She took him up and carried him into the jungle and buried him, returning home. Very soon Yaramurud returned. His mother exclaimed ‘Oh! I thought you had gone.’ He replied ‘Mother, I did not die. Why did you bury me?’ But she knew he was dead, so she took him and buried him again. He came back again. This happened three times. Then Kalwadi took him into the jungle to a big dumla tree (Pisonia excelsa), in which there was a big hole. She kicked the tree with her foot and said ‘You go in there.’ Yaramurud went inside. ‘Well! Have you gone?’ his mother asked. He answered ‘Yes!’ ‘Tell me how the spirits (čauga) talk’ she asked him, and he replied ‘To̱ kit [136].’ Then his mother knew that he was with the spirits, and said ‘Oh! my child, you are finished now. You will never come back again.’ After a few days Yaramurud came back (as a spirit) to see his brother Toau. Toau was busy building a hut. When Yaramurud saw him he killed him. Before this there had been no death. But In Kalwadi told the people, saying ‘You see what has happened; well, we shall all of us die like this, like these two have done’.”

There is a widespread legend to account for the origin of creeks and islands. The following is an A-Pučikwar version.

“At first there was only one big island with the sea all round it. There were no small islands and no creeks. Ko̱ŋoro (a species of ant) made a turtle net and went fishing. He caught a very big fish of the kind called ko̱ro-ŋiti-čau in his net, and dived down and attached a rope to its tail. The fish got very angry and made furious plunges to get away, striking the land in its struggles, and each time knocking off a bit of the land or making a long split. This is the origin of the smaller islands and the creeks.”

Mr Man records the same legend, but says it was Tomo who caught the fish [137]. In an Akar-Bale version it was Da Pečero̱l who caught the fish (ko̱roŋadi). Pečero̱l is the bulbul (Otocompsia emeria). I have the name ko̱roŋadi in my notes as being Sphyraena acutipinnis, but the identification is a doubtful one. In the Aka-Kede tribe there is a version in which it is stated that one of the ancestors captured a fish called talepo. This does not seem to be the same species of fish as that called ko̱ro-ŋiti-čau or ko̱roŋadi in the South. In the North Andaman the legend is that Pe̱rǰido, the son of Biliku, shot a large eel (bol) with an arrow, and in its endeavours to get free from the arrow the eel wriggled about till it made all the creeks.

In the Southern tribes there is a legend that relates how the pig first got its senses. A version from the A-Pučikwar tribe is as follows.

“Ta Mita (Sir Dove) went into the jungle and found a lot of pigs. They did not run away when he came because they had no eyes to see him, no ears to hear, and no nostrils with which to smell. They had no mouths. Mita made mouths for them and gave them tusks which he made of tobur wood. He made eyes and ears and nostrils in their heads and taught them how to grunt and how to sneeze [138].”

Another version from the same tribe is as follows.

“At first the pigs had neither nose nor ears nor eyes. They used to stand about at Wota-emi when the ancestors lived there. The people ate a great many of them. They were such a nuisance that Mita (Dove), the wife of Tomo, thought of a plan to get them out of the way. She bored holes in their heads, two for eyes, two for ears, and two for nostrils. The pigs ran off into the forest where they have been ever since.”

I did not obtain any version of this legend from the Northern tribes. The Aka-Kede have a different legend about the pigs.

“At first there were no pigs. One of the ancestors, Mimi Čau (Lady Civet-cat), invented a new game, and made the ancestors run on all fours and grunt. Those playing were turned into pigs, and went to live in the jungle. Mimi Čau became a civet-cat (čau).”

In the North Andaman there is a legend connected with the pig which explains the origin of the dugong.

“Pe̱rǰido was the first man to catch a pig. He went into the forest and found a pig. Pe̱rǰido was hungry. He caught the pig and took it home. The pig had no eyes nor ears nor mouth. Pe̱rǰido did not disembowel the pig, nor did he sever the joints of its legs [139]. He made a fire and put the pig on it. The pig swelled up in the heat of the fire and burst. This made holes in the pig’s head, two for ears, two for eyes, two for nostrils. The pig perceived that it was being burnt. It jumped up from the fire and ran away. Pe̱rǰido threw a ko̱bo (Licuala) leaf at it. The pig ran into the sea and became a dugong. The leaf became its flipper.”

In the Aka-Čari tribe there is a legend describing the origin of turtles.

“At first there was only one big turtle. He came to the camp of the Aka-Čari people and called them, saying ‘Bring your canoes and catch me.’ They got into their canoes and followed the turtle. They could not catch him. The turtle swam away and the canoes followed. When the canoes were far from land the big turtle came and upset the canoes. The men were all turned into turtles of the same kind and size as those that are seen now. The canoes (and the big turtle?) were turned into a reef.”

In the South Andaman it is supposed that the custom of scarifying the skin was invented by the first ancestor of the Andamanese, the monitor lizard. An Akar-Bale version of the story is as follows.

“Duku (Monitor Lizard) lived with his wife Bain (Civet-cat). Duku said ‘I am going to scarify myself.’ His wife tried to dissuade him. He would not listen to her. He went into the jungle and found a piece of to̱lma (quartz) and scarified himself all over. His wife was very angry and asked him why he had done it. Duku replied ‘I look very well like this, and you will see, all the other people will do the same’.”

Mr Man gives a version of the same legend.

“Maia Duku, who appears to be identical with Tomo, is said to have been the first to tattoo himself. One day, while out on a fishing expedition, he shot an arrow; missing its object it struck a hard substance which proved to be a piece of iron, the first ever found. With it Duku made an arrow-head and tattooed himself, after which he sang the ditty:—

To̱ŋ ma lir pireŋa? to̱ŋ yitiken! to̱ŋ yitiken!
to̱ŋ ma lir pireŋa? to̱ŋ yitiken!

the interpretation of which is

‘What can now strike me?
I am tattooed, I am tattooed!’ etc. (Da capo) [140].”

It would seem that Mr Man, or else his informant, was not very clear about the details of the legend. In the South Andaman scarification is never performed with an arrow-head, nor with any instrument of iron, but with a flake of quartz or glass. It is only in the North and Middle Andaman that an arrow-head is used for such a purpose, and even then it is only so used to make the big scars on the back and chest, the ordinary scarification being performed with a flake of stone or glass. The legend is certainly a Southern one, and the song given is in the Aka-Bea language. The accuracy of the transcription of the legend therefore seems very doubtful.

Yams and honey, being two of the most important foods of the Andaman Islanders, are the subject of several legends. A common belief about yams is that they were made, or their qualities were first discovered, by Biliku or Puluga. We have already seen that there is a special connection between Biliku (or Puluga) and the yams and other edible roots. There are also other legends, however, on the same subject. An account of the first discovery of the yam called gono is contained in the Akar-Bale legend of the origin of night, already given [141].

In the North Andaman the following tale is told about the discovery of one kind of yam.

“Maia Dik (Sir Prawn) discovered ko̱nmo (Dioscorea sp.). He was very hungry and went to look for something to eat. He found a very large ko̱nmo. There was only one ko̱nmo. He cooked it in the fire and ate as much as he could. He dashed the remainder on a rock, and the fragments scattered everywhere and grew into fresh plants. After this there were plenty of ko̱nmo everywhere.”

A legend is also told in the North Andaman about the first discovery of another kind of yam.

“Maia Pulimu (Sir Fly) and Maia Mo̱ičo (Sir Rail) went to hunt pig. They killed one pig. There was nothing to tie up the pig (to carry it home). Maia Pulimu went to look for a creeper (with which to tie up the pig). He caught hold of a creeper and pulled it and found it was a mino (Dioscorea sp.). Maia Pulimu was a long time away. Maia Mo̱ičo went and found some creeper for himself and tied up the pig and carried it home. When Maia Pulimu came back he found that Maia Mo̱ičo had gone and taken the pig. He followed him and went home. He showed the ancestors how to cook and eat mino.”

I believe that there is a fuller version of this legend, which I was unable, however, to obtain. Another of my informants told me the story as follows.

“Mimi Mo̱ičo (Lady Rail) had a son Pulimu (Fly). Pulimu found a mino in the forest and brought it to his mother. They roasted it in the fire.”

Mr Man gives a story from the South Andaman.

“Another of their antediluvian ancestors was famous for propagating yams. This was Maia Bumroag, who in shooting an arrow, struck the creeper belonging to the favourite variety called gono; his curiosity being excited he dug up the root, and tasted it: the result being satisfactory, he informed his friends of his discovery, and they all feasted upon it; when they had had sufficient, he scattered the remains in different directions; this apparent waste so angered his mother that, on pretence of shaving him, she split his head open with a flint. After his death it was found that the act for which he had suffered had tended to the spread of the plant which is now plentiful [142].”

In the North Andaman it is supposed that honey was discovered by Pe̱rǰido the son of Biliku.

“Pe̱rǰido was the first to eat honey. One day he went to shoot fish. He saw a nyuri (Plotosus sp.). The nyuri disappeared amongst the roots of the mangrove trees. Pe̱rǰido was looking for the fish. There was a honeycomb in a mangrove tree. Pe̱rǰido saw its reflection in the water. He took some fire and tried to get the honey out of the water [143]. The water put out the fire. He could not get the honey. He went home and told his mother what he had been doing. She went with him and saw the honey. ‘What a fool you are’ she said, ‘don’t you see that it is in the trees.’ Pe̱rǰido took some fire and smoked out the bees and took the honey. After that Pe̱rǰido used to go and collect honey. He ate it all himself. He did not tell the others (the ancestors) about it. Maia Po̱rubi (Sir Frog) found out that Pe̱rǰido was getting honey and eating it. He went in to the forest to look for some. He found five or six combs. He ate them all and brought none home to his children. Be̱re̱t (a smaller species of frog) was the child of Po̱rubi. One day Be̱re̱t said to his father ‘Bring us some honey.’ The children went with their father and showed him the combs in the trees. Po̱rubi went up the tree, and each time he ate the honey in the tree and did not bring any of it down for his children. Then Be̱re̱t saw another honeycomb in a very tall tree. He pointed it out to his father. Po̱rubi went up to get it. Be̱re̱t cut the creeper up which his father had climbed [144]. Po̱rubi wrapped up the honeycomb to bring it down. Be̱re̱t said ‘Father, this creeper is bad. How will you come down?’ Po̱rubi replied ‘How can it be bad, when I have just climbed up it?’ Be̱re̱t made some sharp stakes of čo̱m (Areca) wood, and put them round the tree. Po̱rubi jumped (or fell) from the tree on to the stakes and was killed. Be̱re̱t took the honey and ran away home.”

In the Aka-Čari tribe there is another legend connected with the frog (po̱rubi) which may conveniently be given here.

“The ancestors were at enmity with Maia Po̱rubi. They went to kill him. They shot him with their arrows, but they could not kill him. Maia Po̱rubi caught hold of them all in his arms, and jumped into the sea. He jumped from the hill called Čauanara. He found a big round stone (boulder) and put the people under it and left them there. All the people turned into stone, and may be seen there now. The next night some more of the people went to hunt turtle near Maia Po̱rubi’s place. They caught a turtle and shouted [145]. Maia Po̱rubi heard them shouting. ‘They are coming again to kill me,’ he said. While they were catching turtle he threw a round stone at them. The stone sank the canoe. The canoe and the people in it were turned to stone.”

A story in which there is a connection between honey and a toad is given by Mr Man.

“Another curious fable is told to account for a drought from which their early ancestors suffered: it relates that once upon a time, in the dry season, a woodpecker discovered a black honeycomb in the hollow of a tree; while regaling himself on this dainty he observed a toad eyeing him wistfully from below, so he invited him to join in the feast; the toad gladly accepted, whereupon the woodpecker lowered a creeper, giving instructions to his guest to fasten his bucket (dakar) thereto, and then to seat himself in it, so that he might be drawn up. The toad complied with the directions and the woodpecker proceeded to haul him up; but just when he had brought him near the comb he mischievously let go the creeper, and his confiding and expectant guest experienced an unpleasant fall. The trick so exasperated him that he at once repaired to the streams far and near in the island and drained them, the result of which was that great distress was occasioned to all the birds, as well as to the rest of the animate creation. The success of his revenge so delighted the toad that, to show his satisfaction, and to add to the annoyance of his enemies, he thoughtlessly began to dance, whereupon all the water flowed from him, and the drought soon terminated [146].”

One of the incidents of the North Andaman story of the frog (Po̱rubi) and his son (Be̱re̱t) appears in a different story from the South and Middle Andaman. The following is an Aka-Ko̱l version of this legend.

“Ta Mita (Sir Dove) and Ta Ko̱io (a species of small bird) went hunting together and got a great number of pigs. Ta Ko̱io told Ta Mita to get some canes to tie up all the pigs. As soon as Ta Mita had gone to look for the cane, Ta Ko̱io went up a big Dipterocarpus tree, taking half the pigs with him. He came down and took the rest of the pigs. He stayed up in the tree with the pigs. When Ta Mita came back he found that the pigs had disappeared. He was very angry and went home. As there was nothing to eat, Mita and his two children, Čada and Čoda (two species of fish) went fishing. Ko̱io was still up the tree. He was cooking the pigs up there. Mita and his children passed under the tree and some burning resin [147] fell on them. In this way they discovered that Ko̱io was in the tree. Mita planned to punish Ko̱io. He cut a great number of sharp stakes of Areca wood and fixed them all round the tree, pointing upwards. Ko̱io was asleep. Mita made the tree sink into the ground. As soon as it was low enough he took some water and threw it into the ear of the sleeping Ko̱io, who awoke in a fright and jumped from the tree. He was impaled on the stakes of wood and so died.”

Another version of the same tale was obtained from the Akar-Bale tribe.

“Da Bumu (a species of bird) went hunting pig with Da Berakwe (another species of bird), and they got a large number of pigs. Then Berakwe said to Bumu ‘We want some cane to tie up all these pigs. You go and get it.’ When Bumu had gone Berakwe climbed up into a big Dipterocarpus tree, taking all the pigs with him, except one very small one which he left behind. When Bumu came back with the cane he found only one small pig, and he was very angry. He went home with the pig. Bumu’s wife Yakoŋ (a species of fish) said ‘I am very hungry. We will go and get some fish by night.’ At night Yakoŋ went out to get some fish and she passed under the tree where Berakwe was cooking his pigs. Some burning resin fell on her and burnt her. She looked up and saw Berakwe and said ‘Oh! there you are; you stole all my husband’s pigs.’ She went home and told Bumu. In the morning Bumu got up very early and cut a number of pointed stakes of Areca (čam) wood, and fixed them all round the tree where Berakwe was, with the sharp points upwards. Then Bumu made the tree sink gradually into the ground. Berakwe fell from the tree on to the stakes and so was killed. Bumu and his wife got the pigs.”

Mr Man records a version of the same story.

“The legend regarding the origin of the evil spirits known as Čo̱l is as follows:—Their ancestor, Maia Čo̱l, one day stole a pig which had been captured by Maia Ko̱lwo̱t, and climbed up into a gurjon-tree with his prize. Now Maia Ko̱lwo̱t was remarkable for his great strength, and being enraged, determined to revenge himself; he thereupon planted a number of spikes all round the tree in which the thief had taken refuge, and then proceeded to force it into the ground. On finding that if he remained where he was, he must inevitably be buried alive, Maia Čo̱l sprang off the tree, and thereby met a more terrible fate, for he was impaled on the spikes, and perished miserably. His disembodied spirit did not pass to Čaitan (Hades), but took up its abode on the invisible bridge, where, by Puluga’s orders, numbers of his descendants were sent to join him, in the form of black birds with long tails [148].”

In reference to this version it may be noted that the Čo̱l are not “spirits” if that word is used to translate the native term čauga or lau. Čo̱l is the name of a species of bird, which I believe is the racket-tailed drongo. These birds, though according to Mr Man they live on the rainbow, are to be seen every day in the jungle, and may be heard calling čo̱l! čo̱l! čo̱l!

Throughout the Great Andaman there is a belief in a huge animal that haunts the jungles, or that haunted them in the days of the ancestors. In the North Andaman this beast is called J̌irmu. In the days of the ancestors it is supposed to have lived at Ulibi-taŋ, where it attacked and killed any men and women who came in its way. No detailed legend about the J̌irmu was obtained.

In the Akar-Bale language Kočurag-boa is the name of the same or a similar monster. In the A-Pučikwar language it is called Uču. This is the name applied to two rocks of limestone which are situated about two or three miles south of Wota-emi, one being in a mangrove swamp, and the other some little way out in the sea. The following legend is told about these rocks.

“In the early days of the Andamanese, Ta Pe̱tie (Sir Monitor Lizard), the first ancestor, went into the jungle and found a čo̱ti tree, up which he climbed to eat the fruit. The other people (who lived with him at Wota-emi) came and found him, and Ta Pe̱tie threw down some of the fruit to them, which they ate. The people began to bully Pe̱tie to make him throw down more of the fruit. Pe̱tie got angry and said ‘If you bully me like that I will call the Uču, and they will kill you all.’ The people only laughed at him. Pe̱tie called the Uču, calling ‘Dire! dire!’ The Uču came, one male and one female. They caught all the people and ate them. Only Pe̱tie they did not eat because he was up in the high tree. The Uču went off to cross the strait to To̱l-l’oko-tima. They had eaten so much that they were very heavy and stuck in the sand and mud at the edge of the mangrove swamp. When Pe̱tie came down from the tree he found all the people gone. He said ‘Hallo! the Uču must have eaten them all.’ He went to look. He found the Uču stuck fast at the edge of the mangrove swamp, so that they could not move. He cut open their bellies and all the people came out, for the Uču had swallowed them whole. The Uču are there to this day.”

When elephants were first introduced into the Andamans for the use of the Forest Department, they were named Uču by the natives, and have ever since retained that name. Similarly the natives of the Northern tribes call them J̌irmu.

In the Akar-Bale tribe there is a legend to account for the origin of a rock standing in the sea at a place called Kwaičo-bur.

“Ra-gumul Kwo̱ko̱l went fishing with his bow and arrows in the sea. His bow and arrows and he himself were turned into stone, and may be seen there to the present day.”

Kwo̱ko̱l is the common tree-lizard. Ra-gumul is the term applied to a youth or girl who has just passed through the pig-eating ceremony described in Chap. II. A youth is not permitted to handle a bow for some days after the ceremony in question. A version of the same legend is recorded by Mr Man.

“The story regarding certain Tomola who failed to observe the rules for neophytes, states that, on the day after they broke their fast of reg-ǰiri (kidney-fat of pig), they left the encampment without giving notice of their intention to their friends, and the result was that, when they were missed and searched for, it was found that they had gone to the shore to fish, and had there met a sad fate; the body of one was discovered adhering to a large boulder, and turned into stone, while the other, likewise in a state of petrifaction, was standing erect beside it [149].”

A reef on the east side of Ritchie’s Archipelago is said to have originated as follows.

“The people of Kwaičo went to J̌ila to hunt turtle, taking two canoes. While they were away their wives made up a big fire in the evening at Kwaičo. The hunters and their canoes were turned to stone, and formed the reefs that are now there.”

I believe that the explanation of this story is the belief that the moon is angry when a bright fire is visible at the time when he rises in the evening shortly after sunset [150].

There seems to be a legend relating to a large snake called o̱r-čubi in the North Andaman, but I was not able to obtain a detailed version. The following was told me in Aka-J̌eru.

“At Dalamio, in the time of the ancestors, there used to be a big snake of the kind called o̱r-čubi. He used to catch men and women when they were gathering honey, and kill them and eat them.”

An Akar-Bale version is a little fuller.

“There was a man named Biča who went to look for honey in the jungle. He saw a big snake (wara-ǰobo) and from its neck was hanging a honeycomb. The snake was as big as a tree. ‘Why don’t you make your honey in the trees?’ Biča said to the bees. He went home and called several of the men. They took their bows and arrows. They found the snake, and shot it with a great many arrows. They could not kill the snake, which ran away and was never seen again.”

An Akar-Bale story relates how the first murder came to pass.

“Da Ko (Sir Crow) was the first of the Andamanese. He lived at Kared-čar-buaro with his wife In Mud (Lady Dove). He had a friend, Badgi-beria (Hawk). Badgi-beria had no wife and was jealous of Da Ko and wanted to get his wife. When Da Ko knew this he was very angry. He went into the jungle and hid himself. By and by he saw Badgi-beria and Mud coming along the path together. He took his bow and arrows and killed them.”

Another Akar-Bale story about the dove is as follows.

“Mud and Kulal were cooking pig and got very hot. They went to bathe and were turned into birds.”

Mud is the bronze-winged dove, Chalcophaps indica, and kulal is the teal, Nettium albigulare.

In the North Andaman there are tales about the sea-eagle (ko̱lo). One is to the effect that at first he used ko̱bo (Licuala) leaves to fly with. This was before he had wings of his own. Another story is as follows.

“Maia Ko̱lo (Sir Sea-eagle) lived at Čona in Tau-’ra-miku. He had a hut in the top of a to̱ro̱ktato tree. He was unmarried. When the men went fishing he used to steal their wives. He would only take good-looking girls. He would call out to a girl to come and catch hold of his foot, saying ‘I have a fish for you.’ If an old or ugly woman came, he would say ‘No! not you; go away.’ When a young woman came and caught hold of his foot he flew away with her to his hut in the tree.”