Chapter III: Religious and Magical Beliefs (1)

The Andaman Islanders believe in the existence of a class of supernatural beings which I propose to denote by the term “spirits.” The native name for these spirits is lau, lao or yau in the languages of the North and Middle Andaman, and čauga in the South Andaman. While all spirits are denoted together by the term lau or čauga, there are certain special classes of spirits. There are, for instance, spirits that haunt the jungles of the islands. These are called in the North Andaman Ti-miku Lau, from the word ti-miku meaning the forest, or more accurately “land.” (The only land known to the Andamanese is covered with forest.) In Aka-Bea the name for these jungle spirits is E̱rem Čauga, the word e̱rem being the equivalent in that language of the Northern ti-miku. In the North Andaman the Ti-miku Lau are often called Bido Teč Lau, i.e., spirits of the Calamus leaf, bido being the name of the Calamus tigrinus. This cane is armed with strong thorns, and in some parts of the jungle forms absolutely impenetrable thickets. The natives say that the spirits haunt these thickets, and hence their name.

There are other spirits that live in the sea. Although these may be included under the term Lau or Čauga, when it is used in a general sense, yet there is a special name for the sea spirits, J̌urua in the North Andaman, and J̌uruwin in Aka-Bea. The J̌urua are beings of the same nature as the Ti-miku Lau, with the difference that they live in the sea, while the latter live in the forest.

In the South Andaman the natives also speak of another class of spirits who live in the sky and are called Mo̱rua or Mo̱rowin.

When an Andamanese man or woman dies he or she becomes a spirit, i.e., a Lau or Čauga. The bones of a dead person, which are dug up after the flesh has decayed, are called Lau to̱i in the North Andaman, to̱i being the word for “bone.” The skull is Lau t’e̱r-čo, from the word e̱r-čo meaning “head.” Exactly similar terms are in use in Aka-Bea, the bones of a dead man being called Čauga ta (spirit bones).

The Andamanese relate legends, to be described in the next chapter, which concern the doings of mythical ancestors. As all Andamanese, when they die, become Lau, these ancestors are of course included under that term. They are often distinguished from the spirits of persons recently dead by being denoted as Lau t’e̱r-kuro, from the word e̱r-kuro meaning “big,” and applied to human beings to denote importance of social position. Just as a man who occupies a prominent position in his tribe is called a “big” man (e̱r-kuro), so the ancestors of the Andamanese legends are called “big” spirits. The Aka-Bea use a similar term, Čauga tabaŋa, to distinguish the ancestors from the spirits of ordinary persons.

The name Lau or Čauga is also applied by the Andamanese to the natives of India and Burma whom they see in the Penal Settlement of Port Blair. The Aka-J̌eru name for the Penal Settlement is Lau-t’ara-nyu, literally “the village of the spirits.” At the present time the term Lau or Čauga is not applied to Europeans, who are generally spoken of in the North Andaman by the Hindustani word “sahib.” Natives of the North Andaman told me that in former times (before 1875) they applied the term Lau to Europeans also not distinguishing them from other light-skinned aliens. The necessity for distinguishing between Asiatics, such as natives of India, and Europeans, has only arisen since they have come to have dealings with the Penal Settlement.

The term Lau is not applied by the Andamanese to aliens of their own race. Nor would it be applied, I believe, to men of other black races such as the African negro. I showed the natives photographs of Semang from the Malay Peninsula and also of natives of Africa and New Guinea, and in all cases they called them J̌a̤rawa, that being the term applied by the Great Andaman tribes to the natives of the Little Andaman. On the other hand they called Polynesians Lau.

For many centuries the Andaman Islanders have been accustomed to see light-skinned men visit their shores in ships, Europeans, natives from the coasts of India, Burma and Malaya, and occasionally perhaps Chinese. To these aliens they gave the name of Lau, apparently regarding them as visitors from the only other world they knew of, the world of spirits [69]. The clothes that these “spirits” wore they called Lau ot-ǰulu, the word ot-ǰulu meaning “cold.”

The spirits of the forest and the sea are believed to be generally invisible, but there are tales of men and women who have seen them, and their personal appearance is sometimes described. The descriptions vary considerably from one informant to another. One of the commonest statements is that they are light or white skinned. (The Andamanese vocabulary does not allow of any distinction between white and a light gray or a light shade of colour.) One man, however, said that the forest spirits are black (or dark), while the sea spirits are white (or light). I was told several times that the spirits have long hair and beards (the Andamanese having, as a rule, no beard, and their hair, being frizzy, never growing to any length). Their arms and legs are said to be abnormally long, while they have only small bodies. Though there is no uniformity in the way in which the natives describe the spirits of the jungle and the sea, there is a notable tendency to associate them with the grotesque, the ugly, and the fearful. There is a common belief that the spirits, both of the jungle and of the sea, carry about with them lights, which several men and women claim to have seen.

In reply to the question as to how the spirits of the forest and the sea originated, the natives all agree in saying that they are the spirits of dead men and women.

The jungle spirits live in a village (or villages) in the forest. There is a belief that mortals wandering by themselves in the jungle have been captured by the spirits. Should the captive show any fear, my informants said, the spirits would kill him, but if he were brave they would take him to their village, detaining him for a time, and then releasing him to return to his friends. A man to whom such an adventure has happened will be endowed for the rest of his life with power to perform magic. He will pay occasional visits to his friends the spirits. The natives told me of one such man who died not many years ago. At irregular intervals he used to wander off into the jungle by himself and remain absent for a few hours, sometimes for a day or two. He returned to the village after such an absence looking strange and wearing ornaments of shredded palm-leaf (koro) which he claimed had been placed upon him by the spirits.

Save for persons who have made friends with them, and have thereby become endowed with magical powers, all contact with the spirits of the jungle and the sea, or with the spirit of a dead man, is dangerous. The spirits are believed to be the cause of all sickness and of all deaths resulting from sickness. As a man wanders in the jungle or by the sea, the spirits come invisibly and strike him, whereupon he falls ill, and may die. A man or woman is more likely to be attacked by the spirits if he or she is alone, and it is therefore always better to be in company when away from the village. The spirits rarely venture into the village itself, though they may prowl round it, particularly at night. They are more dangerous at night than during the day.

There are many objects that are believed to have the power of keeping spirits at a distance, and thus of preserving human beings from the danger of sickness. Amongst the most important of these are fire, arrows, human bones, bees’-wax, and red paint. A man or a woman leaving a hut to go only a few yards at night will always carry a fire-brand as a protection against spirits that may be prowling in the neighbourhood. If the night be dark a torch is carried in addition to the fire-stick.

The Andamanese will never whistle at night, as they believe that the noise of whistling would attract spirits. On the other hand they believe that singing will keep the spirits away.

The spirits that haunt the woods and waters of a man’s own home are regarded as being less dangerous to him than those of a country in which he is a stranger. A man of the Aka-Čari tribe who was with me in Rutland Island had a cold on his chest. He asked me for permission to return to his own country, explaining that the spirits of Rutland Island were, so to speak, at enmity with him, and that if he stayed longer he would be seriously ill, and perhaps die, while on the other hand, the spirits of his own country were friendly towards him, and once he was amongst them he would quickly recover.

There is a belief that the spirits feed on the flesh of dead men and women. The jungle spirits eat those who are buried on land, and the J̌urua devour those who are drowned or otherwise lost in the sea.

Mr Man’s account of the spirits of the jungle and sea contains an important error, which needs to be pointed out. He writes as though there were only one E̱rem Čauga (jungle spirit) and only one J̌uruwin (sea spirit), whereas each of these names is the name not of a single individual but of a class of supernatural beings of which there is an indefinite number. The following is Mr Man’s account:—E̱rem-čauga-la, the “evil spirit of the woods, has a numerous progeny by his wife Čana Badgi-lola, who remains at home with her daughters and younger children, while her husband and grown up sons roam about the jungles with a lighted torch attached to their left legs, in order that the former may injure any unhappy wights who may meet them unprotected, and in the dark; he generally makes his victims ill, or kills them by wounding them internally with invisible arrows, and if he is successful in causing death, it is supposed that they feast upon the raw flesh.” “As regards J̌uruwin, the evil spirit of the sea, they say that he too is invisible, and lives in the sea with his wife and children, who help him to devour the bodies of those who are drowned or buried at sea; fish constitute the staple of his food, but he also occasionally, by way of variety, attacks the aborigines he finds fishing on the shores or by the creeks. The weapon he uses is a spear, and persons who are seized with cramp or any sudden illness, on returning from, or while on the water are said to have been ‘speared’ by J̌uruwin. He has various submarine residences, and boats for travelling under the surface of the sea, while he carries with him a net, in which he places all the victims, human or piscine, he may succeed in capturing [70].”

Mr Portman correctly translates the word J̌uruwin as meaning “the spirits of the sea” using the plural and not the singular [71].

Further references to the Andamanese beliefs about the spirits will be found later in the chapter. It is necessary at this point to consider an entirely different class of beings.

The Andaman Islanders personify the phenomena of nature with which they are acquainted, such as the sun and the moon. Before relating in detail what could be learnt about their beliefs on these matters, it is necessary to call attention to one feature of these beliefs. Different statements, not only of different informants, but even of the same informant, are often quite contradictory. For example, it is sometimes said that lightning is a person, and at other times it is said that lightning is a fire-brand thrown across the sky by a mythical being named Biliku. These two statements, which to all logical thinking are incompatible, are both given, and apparently both equally believed, by the same person. Many examples of such contradictions will be found in what follows, and it is important to point out their existence beforehand.

About the sun and moon, the most usual statement in all the tribes is that the sun is the wife of the moon and the stars are their children. In the North Andaman the moon is Maia Dula (Aka-Čari) or Maia Čirikli (Aka-J̌eru), the sun is Mimi Diu and their children the stars are Čatlo, the larger ones, and Katań the smaller. Čatlo is the name of a species of finely marked beetle, and katań is the name of the common fire-fly. Individual stars or constellations are not recognized.

Another version from the same tribes is that the moon (Dula) is female, and has a husband named Maia Tok, while the sun (Diu or To̱rodiu) is male.

In the Aka-J̌eru tribe there is a belief that the moon (Maia Čirikli) can, when he wishes, turn himself into a pig, and come down to earth and feed on the things that the pigs eat. There is a legend that on one occasion the moon thus turned himself into a pig and came down to earth to eat the čuei fruit. A man named Maia Čoinyop met the moon (in the form of a pig) in the forest, and shot him with an arrow. Čirikli (the moon) took out his knife and killed the unfortunate Čoinyop, cutting off his head, which he left behind, and taking the body up to the sky where he ate it.

In the A-Pučikwar tribe the most common statement is that the moon (Puki) is male and that the sun (Puto) is his wife. A different statement from the same tribe is that the moon is female and is the wife of a being named Tomo. Tomo seems to be to some extent identified with the sun. Thus one informant said that it is Tomo who sends the fine weather, and that it is he who sends the daylight every day. Where Tomo lives, in the sky, it is always day and is always fine. When the natives die their spirits go up to the sky and live with Tomo. We shall see in the next chapter that, according to some of the legends, Tomo is the first ancestor of the Andamanese.

Yet another version is that the moon was made by Tomo out of opalescent stone, and it is Tomo who, in some way, regulates its passage across the sky.

A belief about the moon which is found in all the tribes, both of the North and the South, is that he will be very angry if there is any fire, or any bright light, visible when he rises in the evening shortly after sundown. At such times the natives are careful to cover up their fires so that they only smoulder without flame. Mr Man refers to this custom. “From fear of displeasing Maia Ogar (Mr Moon), during the first few evenings of the third quarter, when he rises after sundown, they preserve silence, cease from any work on which they may be engaged—even halting should they be travelling—and almost extinguishing any light or fire that may be burning. This is owing to the belief that he is jealous of attention being distracted to other objects than himself at such a time, or of any other light being employed than that which he had been graciously pleased to afford so abundantly. By the time the moon has ascended a few degrees, however, they restore their fires and resume their former occupations, as they consider that they have sufficiently complied with Maia Ogar’s wishes and requirements. The glowing aspect of the full moon on its first appearance above the horizon is supposed to indicate that Maia Ogar is enraged at finding some persons neglecting to observe these conciliatory measures; there is also an idea that, if he be greatly annoyed, he will punish them by withdrawing or diminishing the light of his countenance [72].”

As regards the waxing and waning of the moon, Mr Man says that these are explained by the Aka-Bea “by saying that they are occasioned by ‘his’ applying a coating of cloud to his person by degrees, after the manner of their own use of ko̱iob (red paint) and tala-o̱g (white clay) and then gradually wiping it off [73].” In the Aka-Kede tribe the natives say that as Maia Čirike (Sir Moon) goes across the sky, his tongue hangs out of his mouth, sometimes more, sometimes less, and that it is the tongue that is visible, that gives the light. I did not hear any explanation of the waxing and waning of the moon in the tribes of the North Andaman. In these tribes the new moon is called Dula e-tire, i.e. the “baby moon,” the word e-tire denoting the young offspring of an animal or a human being.

With regard to a lunar eclipse Mr Man writes that “in case Maia Ogar should be so ill-advised as permanently to withhold his light or render himself in other ways still more disagreeable, whenever the moon is eclipsed some persons at once seize their bows and twang them as rapidly as possible, thereby producing a rattling sound as if discharging a large number of arrows, while others commence at once sharpening their rata (arrows). Of course this hostile demonstration is never lost upon the moon, who does not venture to hurt those who show themselves ready to give him so uncomfortable a reception. Their immunity from harm on these occasions has given rise to some joking at the expense of the luminary in question, for, during the continuance of the eclipse, they shout in inviting tones to the hidden orb as follows:—Ogar, laden balak ban lebe ŋ’idoati! doati! doati! (O Moon, I will give you the seed of the balak! show yourself! appear! appear!) This is said derisively, for, although these seeds are largely consumed by the pigs, the aborigines do not consider them fit for food [74].”

It may be noted that the invitation to the moon to eat balak seeds is not perhaps derisive, but may be connected with the belief that the moon can turn himself into a pig in order to feed on the things that pigs eat.

There was no eclipse of the moon during my stay in the islands. The natives of the North Andaman told me that on such an occasion they frighten the moon into showing himself again by lighting the end of a bamboo arrow-shaft, and shooting it from a bow in the direction of the moon. Another custom of which they told me is to take plumes of shredded Tetranthera wood (čelmo or uǰ) and blow on them towards the moon.

Mr Man states that “a solar eclipse alarms them too much to allow of their indulging in jests or threats, &c.: during the time it lasts they all remain silent and motionless, as if in momentary expectation of some calamity [75].”

There are several different accounts in the North Andaman of the phenomena of day and night. The night is often personified and is called Mimi Bat (Lady Night). One version is that it is she who makes the night while Maia To̱rodiu makes the day. Diu is the name of the sun, and to̱ro-diu really means “the full sun” and refers to the middle part of the day when the sun is well up in the sky.

Another Northern version is that the daylight is made by a being named Tauto̱bitatmo̱ who lives in the sky. He shuts up the day under a stone every evening and lets it out every morning. Of Tauto̱bitatmo̱ I was told that he is sometimes to be seen in the evening sky, but I was not able to discover to what natural phenomenon reference was made. I was also unable to discover the meaning of the name, which is a compound, tau being the sky.

Still another version from the same tribes is that it is a being named Maia Čara who makes the daylight. Čara seems to be the equivalent of the Tomo of the A-Pučikwar and other Southern tribes. He is sometimes said to have been the first ancestor, and sometimes the creator, of the Andamanese. He lives in the sky.

Another belief about the night connects it with the spirits. The Lau (spirits) in the sky, wrap up the night in a cloth or mat. When they unroll the cloth it becomes dark. The natives of the North Andaman formerly called cloth lau-ot-ǰulu, from a stem -ǰulu meaning “cold.” They were only acquainted with cloth through seeing it used by the aliens who visited their shores, and whom they called spirits (Lau).

In the North Andaman thunder and lightning are commonly personified. The lightning is Ele or Ali, and the thunder is Korude or Korule. Some of the natives spoke of Mimi Ele (female) and others of Maia Ele (male). He lives in the sky, which is regarded as being made of stone (or rock) and is called tau-meo (the sky-stone). The lightning is due to his shaking his foot. One rather obscure statement was to the effect that Ele spends most of his time asleep or lying down and doing nothing. When the weather gets bad Lato (a being that I could not identify), comes and worries Ele and wakes him up. Then Ele gets angry and shakes his leg. This is the lightning.

Thunder (Korude) also lives in the sky. It is said that he makes the thunder by means of a large round stone. One account is that he rolls the stone about over the sky. Another is that he makes the stone hot, and this produces the thunder.

An entirely different explanation of thunder and lightning, which is found in all the tribes, is that they are made by two beings named Tarai and Biliku, to be described later on in this chapter.

I never heard the rain (ǰiče̱r) spoken of as a person in the same way as thunder and lightning. One explanation of rain is that the sky-stone (tau-meo) gets cold, and this turns the mist (milite) into rain. Another is that in the sky there is a large hollow or pool, which gets filled with water and then overflows. Still another version is that the rain is made by a being (or beings) named Čaitoŋ, who seems to be female and lives in the sky. I could not obtain any satisfactory information about her.

In all parts of the islands the rainbow is believed to have some connection with the spirits of the jungle or of the sea. One very common statement is that it is a bridge of cane that stretches between this world and the world of departed spirits. It is along the rainbow that the spirits travel when they visit the earth. It is necessary to correct a statement by Mr Portman on this matter. In connection with the Aka-Bea word for the rainbow, pidga-l’ar-čauga, he says “The root pidga (a rainbow) must not be confounded with the root pidga ‘a cane’ or ‘rattan.’ The Andamanese have certain legends regarding the uses of the rainbow, and these have been hitherto understood as referring to ‘canes.’ Pidga-l’ar-čauga means ‘the rainbow (bridge) by which the spirits (cross)’ [76].” Mr Portman is in error. The word pidga means “cane” and the whole word means “the cane of the spirits.” It is the whole word that is the name of the rainbow, and not the word pidga. An exactly similar compound name for the rainbow exists in each of the languages of the Great Andaman. The name of the particular species of large cane varies, being pidga in Aka-Bea, peta in A-Pučikwar, pir in Aka-J̌eru, and so on. Apart from the fact that the natives themselves say that the rainbow is a “cane,” Mr Portman would have us believe that in each of the different languages there are two exactly similar words, different in the different languages, one of which means “cane” and the other “rainbow,” while there is no connection between the words. Thus Aka-Bea would have pidga meaning “a kind of cane” and pidga meaning “a rainbow.” Aka-J̌eru would have pir meaning “cane” and pir meaning “rainbow.”

The rainbow is generally regarded as an evil omen, being believed to be a precursor of sickness. One Aka-J̌eru statement is that it is made by a being called To̱lito̱ŋ and that when it appears somebody will be ill.

The only explanation of the tides that I heard was to the effect that they are caused by a fish, a species of Tetrodon, called čolmo in Aka-J̌eru and pit in Aka-Kede, which drinks up the water and then lets it out again.

The Andaman Islands are occasionally visited by earthquakes. An Aka-Kede account of how earthquakes are caused is that when a man dies he goes to the spirit world which is beneath the earth. The spirits hold a ceremony. My informant spoke of the ceremony as Kimil, which is the name of the initiation ceremonies. At this ceremony they have a dance similar to the peace-making dance described in the last chapter, but instead of erecting a screen such as is used in that ceremony, they make use of the rainbow. As they shake the rainbow in dancing this causes earthquakes. The ceremony which newly-arrived spirits have to undergo in the world after death is a po̱ro̱to kimil, i.e., the initiate eats po̱ro̱to (Caryota sobolifera).

Among the most important of the Andamanese beliefs are those relating to the weather and the seasons. These are under the control of two beings named Biliku, Bilik or Puluga, and Tarai, Teriya, or Daria. There are a certain number of points in which the statements of one informant may differ from those of another in connection with these two mythical beings, but there are also a certain number of points on which there is absolute unanimity in all the tribes of the Great Andaman.

The first belief in which there is entire unanimity is that of the connection of Biliku and Tarai with the two chief winds that are known in the Andamans. Biliku lives in the north-east and is connected with the north-east monsoon. Tarai lives in the south-west and is connected with the south-west monsoon. The connection is shown in the names of these winds, which are as follows:—

Language N.E. Wind S.W. Wind

Aka-Cari, Aka-Bo, Aka-Kora, Aka-Jeru Biliku boto Tarai boto
Oko-Juwoi, Aka-Kol and A-Pucikwar Bilik to Teriya
Akar-Bale Puluga toa Daria
Aka-Bea Puluga ta Deria

In the Northern tribes the word bo̱to means “wind.” Biliku bo̱to must be translated “the Biliku wind,” and Tarai bo̱to is similarly “the Tarai wind.” It would be incorrect to translate the name Biliku bo̱to as “the wind of Biliku,” for this would be rendered in Aka-J̌eru by Biliku ičo bo̱to. In A-Pučikwar the south-west wind is called Teriya simply, the name of the mythical being connected with the wind being used as the name of the wind itself, just as is the case with the name Ele (lightning). On the other hand the north-east wind is called not Bilik but Bilik to̱. The same thing occurs also in the Akar-Bale and Aka-Bea languages.

Mr Portman translates the Aka-Bea term Puluga ta as “God’s wind,” and he adds, in explanation, “Puluga ta means ‘God’s wind,’ and the reason for the name is not known. Some vague ideas regarding the direction of God’s dwelling in the sky are the probable origin of the term [77].” As regards the translation of the Andamanese name Puluga by the English “God” more will be said later. Leaving that aside, it is important to note that Puluga ta does not mean “Puluga’s wind.” The word for wind in Aka-Bea is given by Mr Portman himself as wul-ŋa, and the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar equivalents are poat-ŋa and po̱te, being forms of the same stem as the Northern bo̱to. The translation of “Puluga’s wind” in A-Pučikwar would be Bilik l’iye po̱te, but this is not a phrase that the natives ever use. It is not possible to translate “Puluga’s wind” accurately in Akar-Bale. Puluga poat-ŋa would mean “Puluga blowing” the -ŋa being a verbal ending. In any case Bilik to̱, and Puluga toa are not to be translated as meaning “Puluga’s wind.”

It may be observed, in reference to Mr Portman’s statement, that the notions of the Andamanese as to the direction of the dwelling of Puluga in the sky are very far from vague. The natives all agree that Puluga or Biliku lives in the direction from which the north-east wind blows, really N.N.E. This is shown in geographical names. For example the side of Havelock Island that faces north-east is called Puluga-l’ar-mugu, meaning “the side that faces Puluga,” from ar-mugu meaning “front” or “face.”

There are two matters, then, on which there is absolute unanimity in all the tribes of the Great Andaman, one being the connection of Biliku (or Puluga) with the north-east and of Tarai (or Deria) with the south-west, and the other being the connection of these two beings with the winds that blow from these two opposite points of the compass.

The connection of these two beings with winds is shown in another way in the A-Pučikwar tribe, where the winds are divided into two divisions. One division contains only the south-west wind, which is of extreme regularity, and blows steadily for about five months in every year. This wind is called Teriya. The other division contains all the other winds, and they are collectively denoted by the term Bilik. They are distinguished by names, as J̌ila Bilik (the east Bilik, from ǰila, east), Ko̱ico Bilik (the west Bilik), Me̱tepur Bilik, Čo̱liatum Bilik, Rartear Bilik, and Ko̱ičor-to̱ŋ Bilik. Here we find the name Bilik used not as the name of a single person, but as a common name for a class of beings who are the winds personified. The same use of the term is found also in the Aka-Ko̱l tribe.

Even in the Akar-Bale tribe something of the same kind is found. One Akar-Bale man said that Puluga has two brothers, J̌ila Puluga (East Puluga) and Koaičo Puluga (West Puluga); the one sends all the easterly winds and the other all the westerly ones.

In the Andamans the year is divided into two nearly equal portions. During the season of the south-west monsoon, which lasts from May to September, the wind blows steadily from the south-west. This is the rainy season. Violent storms never or only very rarely occur during the season of the south-west wind. From December to March the wind blows mostly from the N.N.E., occasionally changing to E.N.E. or N.E. In the periods at the change of the monsoon (from N.E. to S.W. in April and May, and from S.W. to N.E. in October and November) the wind is variable, and may blow at times from E.S.E. or W.N.W.

The south-west wind (properly speaking W.S.W.) is identified, as we have seen with Tarai (Deria). Although Biliku (Puluga) is specially connected with the north-east wind, yet all the winds other than the south-west are commonly supposed to be sent by Biliku. Thus we have seen that in the A-Pučikwar tribe the different winds are named, each of them (with the exception of the south-west) being a Bilik.

It comes about, in this way, that the year is divided into two portions, one of which is specially connected with Biliku (Puluga), while the other is specially connected with Tarai (Deria). These two seasons are not quite of equal length. The Tarai season lasts only while the south-west monsoon is blowing, which, in an average year, is between four and five months. The other seven months are connected with Biliku and are divided into three portions, (1) the stormy season of October and November, (2) the cold season of December to February, and (3) the hot season of March and April.

There are many points relating to Biliku and Tarai about which there is no general agreement amongst the tribes, or, in some cases, even within the same tribe. In the North Andaman Biliku is regarded as female, and is called Mimi Biliku, while Tarai is male and is called Maia Tarai. This is so in all the four tribes, Aka-Čari, Aka-Bo, Aka-Ko̱ra and Aka-J̌eru. A statement that is frequently made by the natives of these tribes is that Tarai and Biliku are husband and wife. While this is the most common statement, there are, however, other versions of the matter. In order to show the lack of uniformity in statements about Biliku and Tarai in the Northern tribes I reproduce a few extracts from my note-books written down exactly as they were given to me.

(1) Biliku is the wife of Tarai and they have a child named Perǰido. (This statement was made to me a great many times in the North Andaman, and may be regarded as the most usual form of the belief.)

(2) Biliku is the wife of Tarai. Their children are the sun and moon. (Heard only once.)

(3) The husband of Biliku is Perǰido and her children are Totaimo, Mite (cicada) and Tarai.

(4) Biliku is unmarried, but she has a son Perǰido, and her other children are To̱ro̱i, Čelene, Čoto̱t, and Čerei. These four are the names of birds.

(5) Biliku is the wife of Tarai. Their children are To̱ro̱i, Taka, Čoto̱t, Poruato̱ko, Kelil, Co̱pcura, Benye, Biratkoro, Čereo, Milidu, Bobelo, Ko̱lo. These are all names of birds.

(6) Biliku has a husband To̱ro̱i (a bird). Tarai has a wife Kelil (a bird).

In the Aka-Kede tribe the most common statement, at any rate in the northern part of the tribe, is that Bilika is female, and that Tarai is male. One Aka-Kede man, from the southern part of the tribe said that Bilika was male.

In the Aka-Ko̱l and A-Pučikwar tribes Bilik is generally spoken of as being male, and Teriya is also male. Other versions from these tribes are as follows:—

(1) Bilik is female and Teriya is her husband. Their children are the winds, Čoliatum Bilik, Me̱tepur Bilik, and Wo̱ičo-l’arpat Bilik.

(2) There is a male Bilik and a female Bilik, who are husband and wife. Their children are Ko̱ičo̱r-to̱ŋ Bilik, Ko̱ičo Bilik, Jila Bilik, Me̱tepur Bilik, Rartear Bilik, and Teriya. These are the winds.

(3) Bilik is male. His wife is In Čaria, and their children are Kao (prawn) and Mo̱rua (the sky).

In the Akar-Bale tribe the most usual statement is that both Puluga and Daria are male, and this was apparently also the common belief of the Aka-Bea.

In the North Andaman the name Biliku is also the word for “spider,” but no meaning (save as the name of the mythical being) was discovered for the name Tarai. In the South and Middle Andaman no meaning was discovered, either for the name Bilik or Puluga, or for the name Teriya or Deria. Although this book does not deal with the Little Andaman, it is worth while to mention that there also the natives believe in a mythical person who lives in the north-east and sends the storms. This being is female and is named Öluga. The monitor lizard is also called öluga in the language of the Little Andaman. It is obvious, however, that the names Biliku, Puluga, Öluga are all of them different forms of the same word.

As we have already seen, it is Biliku and Tarai who send the winds. Tarai sends the south-west wind, which brings the rain. Biliku sends the other winds which bring either fine weather, or, at times, violent storms. One Akar-Bale account of the matter (literally translated as told to me) is as follows. “Once upon a time Puluga and Daria were great friends, but they quarrelled. Puluga said that he was the bigger (more important). Daria said that he was. So now they are always quarrelling. Puluga sends the wind for one period. Then Daria sends his wind.”

According to the statement of an Akar-Bale man, Puluga makes the wind by fanning with a very large kwar-toŋ leaf.

Rain and thunder and lightning that come with the south-west wind are believed to be due to Tarai. Storms that come during the season connected with Biliku are made by Biliku and are due to her anger. When a big storm comes the natives say “Biliku is angry.” Lightning is explained as being a fire-brand thrown by Biliku across the sky when she is angry, and thunder is said to be her voice growling. Another explanation of lightning is that it is a pearl-shell, called be in the North Andaman, thrown by Biliku, the bright flash of the mother-of-pearl being seen as it crosses the sky. Still another statement from the North Andaman is that Biliku makes the lightning by striking a pearl-shell (be) against a stone.

Although Biliku is generally mentioned when a native is asked about lightning, yet Tarai also wields the lightning and the thunder. On one occasion when I was talking to a native I referred to the thunder and lightning that were at the moment coming up from the south-west, making a remark to the effect that Biliku was getting angry about something, and was corrected by him with “No, that is Tarai.”

There are a certain number of actions that are believed by the natives to arouse the anger of Biliku (Puluga), and thereby cause storms. There are three of these that are of importance.

(1) Burning or melting bees’-wax.

(2) Killing a cicada, or making a noise, particularly a noise of cutting or banging wood, during the time that the cicada is “singing” in the morning and evening.

(3) The use of certain articles of food, of which the chief are the seeds of the Entada scandens, the pith of the Caryota sobolifera, two species of Dioscorea (yam), and certain edible roots, of which may be mentioned those called in Aka-J̌eru, labo, mikulu, ǰi and lo̱ito.

In this matter there is an entire unanimity of belief in all the tribes of the Great Andaman. All the natives agree in saying that any of these three actions causes the anger of Biliku or Puluga and so brings bad weather.

The natives do, as a matter of fact, melt all the bees’-wax they obtain, in order to purify it, and render it suitable for use in the various ways in which they employ it. Also they do make use of all the plants mentioned under (3) whenever they are in season. They give various explanations of this variance between their precepts and their actions. Some of my informants said that though these actions may bring rain and storms, yet they would rather submit to the bad weather than go without some of their most prized vegetable foods. Others again say that there is always a chance that Biliku may not notice that the plants have been disturbed, particularly if no fragments are left lying about the camp, and if, when taking the roots, the creepers are not disturbed. Another statement is that it is really only during the season of storms, called the Kimil season in Aka-J̌eru, that it is dangerous to eat these foods, that is, during the months of October and November. After this season has passed there is no longer any danger of violent storms and the foods in question may be freely eaten. Nevertheless the natives do eat these foods in the months of October and November.

Mr Man records the native beliefs about bees’-wax and the plants in question. “There is an idea current that if during the first half of the rainy season they eat the Caryota sobolifera, or pluck or eat the seeds of the Entada pursœtha, or gather yams or other edible roots, another deluge would be the consequence, for Puluga is supposed to require these for his own consumption at that period of the year; the restriction, however does not extend to the fallen seeds of the Entada pursœtha, which may be collected and eaten at any time with impunity. Another of the offences visited by Puluga with storms is the burning of bee’s wax, the smell of which is said to be peculiarly obnoxious to him. Owing to this belief it is a common practice secretly to burn wax when a person against whom they bear ill-will is engaged in fishing, hunting, or the like, the object being to spoil his sport and cause him as much discomfort as possible; hence arises the saying amongst them, when suddenly overtaken by a storm, that some one must be burning wax [78].”

It must be noted that it is not only the “burning,” but also the melting of bees’-wax that angers Puluga. As regards the plants mentioned by Mr Man none of these is available for food during the early part of the rainy season. At that time the yams are not formed, the pith of the Caryota palm is not ripe and is uneatable, and the only available seeds of the Entada would be those of the last season that had not fallen from the pods or that had lain on the ground without having germinated. Thus the prohibition as stated by Mr Man amounts to nothing. The subject will be discussed in a later chapter. It may be remarked, however, that it is a fact easily to be observed that the natives do regard the gathering of these vegetable foods during the later portion of the rainy season and during the first part of the cool season (i.e. from October to December), as being an action that may offend Biliku. I was myself able to observe this on several occasions, as when once, at the very end of the rainy season, I, not then knowing the belief, asked a native to cut for me one of the pods of the Entada as a botanical specimen, whereupon the native, after fulfilling my request, explained to me that there would probably be a storm next day as the result of our action.

In all the tribes of the Great Andaman I found a belief that Biliku or Puluga will be angry if anybody makes a noise, particularly a noise of chopping, breaking or banging wood, during the time the cicada is singing. The cicada “sings” as the natives call it, during the short interval between dawn and sunrise, and during that between sunset and darkness. It is at these times that no noise may be made. The Andamanese do observe this custom, and refrain from making any noise at such times. For instance, if a man were singing, he would cease until the cicada were silent again. In all the tribes I found that this prohibition was connected in the minds of the natives with Puluga, the reason of the custom being always explained to me by saying that any breach of it would infallibly bring bad weather. In the North Andaman the cicada (mite) is commonly spoken of as the “child” of Biliku, Biliku ot-tire.

Mr Man refers to this custom. In one place he says that the first parents of the Andamanese were told by Puluga “that, though they were to work in the wet months, they must not do so after sundown, because by doing so they would worry the butu, which are under Puluga’s special protection. Any noise, such as working (kopke) with an adze, would cause the butu’s head to ache, and that would be a serious matter. During the cold and dry seasons work may be carried on day and night, as the butu is then seldom seen, and cannot be disturbed [79].”

The butu here mentioned is the cicada. The prohibition is not, however, as Mr Man says, against working, but against making a noise. Nor does the prohibition against noise extend to the whole night, but only to the short interval between sunset and darkness, for it is during this interval that the cicada is singing. As soon as the cicada is silent you may make as much noise as you please.

Another reference by Mr Man to the same custom is as follows: “Between dawn and sunrise they will do no work, save what is noiseless, lest the sun should be offended and cause an eclipse, storm, or other misfortune to overtake them. If, therefore, they have occasion to start on a journey or hunting expedition at so early an hour, they proceed as quietly as possible, and refrain from the practice, observed at other times of the day, of testing the strength of their bow-strings, as the snapping noise caused thereby is one of those to which the sun objects [80].”

This is really the same prohibition as that already mentioned, against making a noise when the cicada is singing. The interesting point, which will be discussed in a later chapter, is that Mr Man’s informant associated the prohibition not with Puluga, but with the sun. All the natives with whom I talked on the matter said that they would make no noise at such a time for fear of offending the cicada, and therefore Puluga or Biliku, and so bringing a storm.

As regards the prohibition against killing the cicada, this seems to refer only to the imago. So far as I was able to observe, the natives do carefully avoid killing the cicada in its full-grown form. On the other hand the grub of the cicada is regularly killed and eaten, being regarded as a delicacy. It is only eaten during the months of October and November.

In connection with the cicada, and with the weather, there is a rite which was described to me, but which I did not see performed. According to the account given of this rite, which is called “killing the cicada,” its purpose is to produce fine weather. It takes place in December, at the end of the season during which they eat the grub. When the time agreed upon for the performance of the ceremony arrives, all the members of the community are careful to be in the camp before sunset. As soon as the sun sets and the cicadæ begin their shrill cry, all the men, women and children present begin to make as much noise as they possibly can, by banging on the sounding-board, striking the ground with bamboos, beating pieces of wood together, or hammering on the sides of canoes, while at the same time shouting. They continue the noise, which entirely drowns that of the cicada, until after darkness has fallen. The rite may be performed, I believe, two or more times, on successive evenings. My informant explained the rite by saying that the natives have been eating the cicada, and the rite is intended to “kill” those that are left. After the rite the cicada disappears and is not seen or heard for some weeks, and there follow four months of fine weather with little rain.

The beliefs relating to bees’-wax, to the various edible roots, and to the cicada, are the same in all the Great Andaman tribes, and are by far the most important of those connected with Biliku. In the North Andaman Biliku is supposed to be angry if any one kills a biliku (spider), a reo (a species of insect making a noise like a cicada, during the daytime, which I often heard, but never saw), or a čatlo (a species of beetle). There is also a bird, which I was not able to identify, called to̱ro̱i, which belongs to Biliku and may not be killed.

In the A-Pučikwar tribe it is said that two species of fish, called unakoro and liwat belong to Bilik and may not be killed. A mollusc, called towa, also belongs to Bilik, and is for that reason never eaten. A bird called Bilik-l’ar-dala (probably the same bird that is called to̱ro̱i in the North Andaman) may not be killed.

In the Akar-Bale tribe I was told that two kinds of wood, bukura and worago, must not be used for firewood, for fear of offending Puluga, to whom they belong. Bukura is a species of Diospyros (ebony).

The only punishment that Biliku ever inflicts on human beings when she is angry with them for any reason, is to send violent storms. The way to stop a storm seems to be to frighten Biliku. One means of doing this is to throw the leaves of the Mimusops littoralis in the fire. These leaves explode with the heating of the juices and make a crackling or popping noise, which it is said that Biliku dislikes. I believe, however, that if any one were thus to burn Mimusops leaves during fine weather, it would be regarded as likely to cause a storm. The most efficacious means of stopping a storm is to do some of the things that Biliku most dislikes. To burn bees’-wax, or to go into the jungle and damage or destroy the creepers that belong to her, these are the heroic remedies against Biliku’s anger.

The question of the Andamanese beliefs about storms is complicated by the fact that although all storms are said to be made by Puluga or Biliku, yet there is an alternative and contradictory belief that storms are made by the spirits of the sea (J̌urua). It is said that if a piece of the Anadendron paniculatum creeper were to be burnt there would be a great cyclone, but this appears to be associated, not with Biliku, but with the spirits of the sea. It will be shown later that there is a special connection between the J̌urua and this plant. The belief that a storm will arise if turtle fat be allowed to burn in the fire seems also to be connected with the J̌urua and not with Biliku. The same is probably the case with a belief that rain will come if a Ficus laccifera tree be damaged.

Some of the methods used to stop storms are also probably connected with the spirits and not with Biliku. One such method is to go into the sea and swish arrows about in the water. One oko-ǰumu (medicine-man) of the North Andaman is reputed to have stopped a big cyclone by taking a few pieces of Anadendron paniculatum and crushing them, and then diving into the sea and placing the crushed creeper under a stone. An oko-ǰumu who died while I was in the islands is supposed to have been able to stop a storm by similarly placing leaves and twigs of the Ficus laccifera (reŋko) under a rock in the sea.

To complete the account of this part of the Andamanese beliefs it is necessary to quote what Mr Man writes about the tribes of the South Andaman. Mr Man describes Puluga as a “Supreme Being” and says that some of the beliefs of the Andamanese relating to him “approximate closely to the true faith concerning the Deity.” Mr Portman, following Mr Man, in this as in many other matters, translates the name Puluga by the English word “God.” Mr Man’s statements are as follows:—

“Of Puluga they say that—

“I. Though His appearance is like fire, yet He is (nowadays) invisible.

“II. He was never born and is immortal.

“III. By him the world and all objects, animate and inanimate were created, excepting only the powers of evil.

“IV. He is regarded as omniscient while it is day, knowing even the thoughts of their hearts.

“V. He is angered by the commission of certain sins, while to those in pain or distress he is pitiful, and sometimes deigns to afford relief.

“VI. He is the Judge from whom each soul receives its sentence after death, and to some extent, the hope of escape from the torments of J̌ereg-l’ar-mugu is said to affect their course of action in the present life.

“Puluga is believed to live in a large stone house in the sky, with a wife whom he created for himself: she is green in appearance and has two names, Čana Aulola (Mother Fresh-water Shrimp), and Čana Palak (Mother Eel); by her he has a large family, all, except the eldest, being girls; these last, known as morowin (sky spirits or angels), are said to be black in appearance, and, with their mother, amuse themselves from time to time by throwing fish and prawns into the streams and sea for the use of the inhabitants of the world. Puluga’s son is called Piǰčor: he is regarded as a sort of archangel, and is alone permitted to live with his father, whose orders it is his duty to make known to the morowin.