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Title: The Lhota Nagas
Author: Mills, J. P.
Language: English
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THE LHOTA NAGAS
BY
J. P. MILLS, I.C.S.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES BY
J. H. HUTTON, C.I.E.
HON. DIRECTOR OF ETHNOGRAPHY, ASSAM
Published by direction of the Government of Assam
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON
1922
PREFACE
I have attempted in this monograph to give some account of the Lhota
Nagas, a tribe whose dour attitude towards inquirers has caused them to
be somewhat neglected in the past. Boasting no great knowledge of
anthropology, I have avoided theories and confined myself to facts.
During some three years’ residence at Mokokchung as Assistant
Commissioner I have had considerable opportunity of becoming acquainted
with the habits and customs of this tribe, many individual members of
which are now my personal friends.
The generosity of the Assam Government has made the publication of this
monograph possible, and my thanks are due to my many friends who have
assisted me in the preparation of it. But for the encouragement and
advice of Mr. J. H. Hutton, Deputy Commissioner of the Naga Hills and
Director of Ethnography in Assam, it would probably never have been
written. He has helped me throughout in every possible way, and has
contributed a most valuable introduction and notes. I am further
indebted to Mr. Hutton for six photographs and a drawing, while for two
other photographs my thanks are due to Mr. S. G. Butler. I have further
to thank Miss A. M. Grace of Hove for the coloured frontispiece and
Miss E. M. Paterson for the drawing of the median bands of the two
types of rükhusü. Lt.-Col. J. Shakespear has been kind enough to do the
index for me.
It is through the hearty co-operation of my Lhota friends that I have
been able to make some record of their tribal customs and beliefs, and
my thanks are especially due to Etsisao and Chongsemo of Okotso, Asao
and Chamimo of Pangti, Santemo of Niroyo, Ranchamo of Seleku, Yanasao
of Akuk, and Shambemo of Tsingaki. Tsansao, of the staff of the
Sub-divisional Officer, Mokokchung, gave me invaluable assistance in
recording folk-tales and typing my manuscript.
The only previous account of Lhota customs which I have seen is that
given by Mr. Hutton on pp. 362–370 of The Angami Nagas (Macmillan,
1921). Other investigators of Naga customs have, as a rule, dismissed
them with a few words. Dr. W. E. Wither’s Outline Grammar of the Lhota
Naga Language (Calcutta, 1888) I found most useful.
J. P. Mills.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction xi
PART I
General 1
Introductory—Origin and Migrations—Appearance—Dress—
Ornaments—Weapons—Character.
PART II
Domestic Life 21
The Village—The “Morung”—The Head-Tree—The House—The
Contents—Manufactures—Trade—Loans—Agriculture and the
Ceremonies connected with it—Live-stock—Hunting—Fishing
—Food—Drink—Medicine—Drugs—Games—Music—Daily Life.
PART III
Laws and Customs 87
Exogamy—Polity and Village Organization—Property—
Inheritance—Adoption—Settlement of Disputes—Oaths—
Friendships—War and Head-hunting—Slavery—Position of
Women.
PART IV
Religion 113
Religion—Deities and Spirits—The Soul and Life after
Death—Magic—Religious Officials—Public Ceremonies—
Individual Ceremonies—Ceremonies for Illness—Social
“gennas”—Birth—Marriage—Divorce—Death—Miscellaneous
Beliefs.
PART V
Folk-tales and Songs 174
PART VI
Language 207
PART VII
Appendix A—The Lhota Calendar 226
Appendix B—Mensuration 228
Appendix C—Human Sacrifice 230
Naga-Assamese Glossary 232
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
TO FACE PAGE
AN ELDERLY MAN OF LUNGITANG WEARING LUNGPENSÜ AND
BIG EAR-PADS 7
YOUNG MARRIED WOMAN (OF OKOTSO) 7
ORNAMENTATION OF MEDIAN BAND OF RÜKHUSÜ 10
SOUTHERN LHOTAS IN FULL DRESS 13
CHAMIMO OF PANGTI 13
A LHOTA WARRIOR IN FULL DRESS 14
TYPES OF OBSOLETE DAOS (YANTHANG) 16
A LHOTA VILLAGE—HUMTSO 23
THE DOYANG RIVER FROM BELOW CHANGSÜ 23
A LHOTA MORUNG 25
A LHOTA HOUSE 31
SPINNING 39
WEAVING 39
FISHING 71
MINGETUNG 108
VILLAGE OHA AT THE FOOT OF MINGETUNG 108
AN OPYA BRISTLING WITH BAMBOO SPEARS THROWN AT IT AT
THE OYANTSOA “GENNA” 123
MORUNG (CHAMPO) AT PANGTI 123
“GENNA” STONE TIED ON TO A BAMBOO FRAME-WORK READY TO
BE CARRIED UP TO THE VILLAGE FOR THE STONE-DRAGGING
CEREMONY 142
GRAVE OF A WARRIOR DECORATED WITH HIS ORNAMENTS AND A
TALLY OF THE HEADS HE HAS TAKEN (NORTHERN LHOTAS) 142
FORKED POST (TSONGZÜ) AT YEKHUM, PUT UP INSTEAD OF A
“GENNA” STONE 144
THE TWO PUTHIS OF AKUK COLLECTING RICE FOR THE TUKU
CEREMONY 144
ENO 160
NRITANGPENG OF A MAN WHO HAS KILLED AN ELEPHANT 160
A MEDICINE MAN (RATSEN) IN A FIT 164
A DANCER AT THE REBUILDING OF A MORUNG 164
MAPS
SKETCH MAP TO SHOW TRIBES AND PLACES MENTIONED IN THE
INTRODUCTION xl
MAP SHOWING LHOTAS AND NEIGHBOURING TRIBES at end
MAP OF THE LHOTA COUNTRY
INTRODUCTION
When I made over charge of the Mokokchung Subdivision of the Naga Hills
to Mr. Mills in November 1917, I urged him to study in particular the
Lhota tribe with a view to writing a monograph on them. The reason why
I selected the Lhotas was that it appeared to me that they, more than
any other tribe in the Naga Hills District, were beginning to lose
their distinctive features and were in danger of early
denationalization between the upper and the nether mill-stones of
Christianity, as taught by the American Baptist Mission, and Hinduism,
as practised by the Nepali settler or by the Assamese who are the
neighbours of the Lhota on the plains side. It was already a very rare
thing to see a Lhota in ceremonial dress, and it was a, to me,
unpleasantly common thing to have Lhota ceremonies and the officials of
the Lhota hierarchy spoken of in spurious terms of Hinduism. The
Baptist Mission, with its headquarters at “Impur” in the Ao country,
was at work in the north, and one of the first disputes I had to deal
with when I went to Mokokchung in 1913 was a complaint from the village
of Pangti that a missionary had been initiating his converts by
immersing them in the village spring, to which the village elders
objected both on sanitary and religious (or, if you will,
superstitious) grounds on the lines of Tennyson’s Churchwarden when he
complained of the Baptists—
“They wesh’d their sins i’ my pond,
an’ I doubts they poison’d the cow.”
The Hindu tendency was most noticeable in the south, and it was at
Kohima that one of my Lhota interpreters, by his office the natural
guardian and exponent of tribal customs, came to me to ask for leave,
as his village was about to perform the “Lakshmi puja,” by which he
meant the Rangsikam.
I am happy in thinking that not only have Mr. Mills’ efforts in
investigating the customs and beliefs of the Lhota tribe succeeded in
putting them on record while there was yet time, but they have also
incidentally contributed not a little to revivify their observance. For
there is no question but that they had begun to lose their hold. The
prohibition of head-hunting alone was bound to act in that direction.
In one small and decaying village (Lisio) Mr. Mills found that there
had been no Puthi, and therefore presumably no communal ceremonies, for
twenty years. There is now a Puthi and the ceremonial life of the
village has acquired fresh vigour, and I have some hopes that the decay
that had set in may be thereby staved off, for it cannot contribute to
healthy life to be deprived entirely of all public and communal
ceremonies, and to revive them may do good. Again, at Okotso, when I
first knew it, about a third of the village had turned Christian: the
remainder, having observed that no immediate disaster seemed to follow
the forsaking of ancestral customs, but being in no wise desirous to
take up the burden of the angel of the Church of Impur, who looks with
disapproval on tobacco and the national dress and insists on total
prohibition as regards fermented liquor, had lapsed into a spiritual
limbo in which they observed no religious customs at all. The “morungs”
had fallen into decay and the young men would not take the trouble to
renew them; the village ceremonies, if observed at all, were observed
in the most perfunctory manner, and the community as a whole took
neither part nor interest, giving at best an apathetic conformity not
perhaps entirely unparalleled in modern Britain. How far it is due to
Mr. Mills’ interest in Lhota custom I do not know, but the
non-Christian population of Okotso has certainly reformed, rebuilt its
“morungs,” and re-instituted the Oyantsoa in its fullness.
The hill country in which the Lhota lives is a very beautiful one
indeed. I am sitting on the banks of the Dayang as I write, and if the
Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, are one whit as lovely as
the Dayang and the Chebi, then verily had Naaman the right of it. But
the Lhota himself has not been fortunate in his critics. From Lieut.
Bigge, the first to make his acquaintance, in 1841, down to even Col.
Woods, whose acquaintance with the Lhota ended in 1912, he has been
stigmatized as surly, sullen, or sulky. Yet it is most undeserved.
Absurdly sensitive to ridicule, and, partly no doubt for that reason,
extremely reticent, he is not near so readily moved to hilarity as his
neighbour the Sema, or even the Angami. Dour he is, and very canny;
hardly could even Mr. Punch’s Aberdonian better him in the virtue (or
is it “vice”?) of thrift. If the Sema among Naga tribes be likened to
the Irishman (I think the comparison is Mr. Mills’ originally), then
the Lhota is the Scot among them. He is far from inhospitable and I
think he has been misjudged, because his critics, while having more
than the casual acquaintance which is predisposed to be attracted by
the manly hill man, and having discovered that he is not so delightful
a person as one would like to believe, have never penetrated to the
real intimacy which would have ended in a very mutual esteem. Possibly
too they may have judged him in some cases from the point of view from
which La Fontaine writes of his cat,
“Cet animal est très méchant;
Quand on l’attaque il se défend!”
and it must be admitted that the Naga, suspicious of strangers as he
is, is a little apt to defend himself before he has been attacked at
all. However that may be, I can state without reserve that Mr. Mills,
during the three and a half years in which he has had to decide their
disputes and deal with the Lhotas in various ways, has fully gained
their confidence—without it this book could not have been written—and
has doubtless found them, as I have myself, very pleasant companions,
particularly on the river or in the jungle or after dangerous game.
The Lhota occupies to some extent a midway position among Naga tribes
between the cultures typical of the north and of the south, and is
particularly interesting as retaining very clear indications of the
composite origin of the tribe. The main body are perhaps of the same
origin as the Sangtams, and hence from the south, perhaps from the
Chindwin valley in Burma to which the Southern Sangtams trace their
origin. Thence there are traditions of Lhota sojourners at Kezakenoma
(Keshur) and at Kohima in the present Angami country, and at Themoketsa
and the extinct village of the hero Pembvo in the Rengma country.
Indeed it is now no longer quite clear whether this chief was a Lhota
or a Rengma, and whether he protected against the pursuing Angamis the
rearguard of the Lhotas crossing the Dayang northwards, or that of the
Rengmas migrating westwards to the Mikir Hills, but the Lhotas of the
neighbouring villages jealously preserve his memory and all that
touches him, while Chankerhomo, who is associated with him in legend
and who slew in one day thirty Angami warriors of Phekekrima, only to
be eventually captured and tortured to death by them, was undoubtedly a
Lhota and the site of his execution is still shown. Indubitably the
Lhotas have been subject to the influence of the same cultures as the
Angamis, and it may be seen in their practice of the erection of
monoliths on the performance of certain ceremonies, in the practice of
burial and in the manner of taking omens, which both Angami and Lhota
do by dropping chips cut from a reed instead of by the fire-stick like
other Naga tribes. Like that of the Angamis too is the Lhota social
organization into three phratries, though it is conceivable that in
both tribes the use of the word apfu for mother, as in one phratry, is
of southern or eastern origin and the use of azo or oyo by the others
is of the western immigration from the plains of Assam, where ayo is
still the Assamese word for ‘mother.’ The Rengmas, however, very like
the Lhotas in many respects, and having a similar dual system, seem to
have migrated generally from east to west, the bulk of the Rengma tribe
having moved from the Naga Hills westward across the Dhansiri valley to
the Mikir Hills only a hundred years ago.
Alongside the traces of immigration from the south we have the clear
tradition among the Lhotas of an origin from the Himalayas and the
plains of Assam, and the use of the cross-bow, the tradition of the
tsonak and the strictly preserved yanthang “daos” alike connect the
Lhota with the north bank of the Brahmaputra, or with the Singphos.
Thirdly, we have stories of fighting stones and of girls that came out
of oranges or bamboo shoots [1] almost identical in form with stories
told by the Khasis, [2] and traceable perhaps to Bodo or Mon-Khmêr
survivals. The Lhotas too are prolific in families descended from
“jungle men” caught and kept as slaves.
In the remaining pages of the Introduction I have endeavoured to give a
general idea of the composition of the Naga tribes with a view to a
better appreciation of the position among them of the Lhota tribe
itself, and of the significance of many points in Mr. Mills’ account of
that tribe.
It is generally assumed in a vague sort of way that those tribes which
are spoken of as Nagas have something in common with each other which
distinguishes them from the many other tribes found in Assam and
entitles them to be regarded as a racial unit in themselves. It has
been asserted that the Naga tribes are marked by a very strong
affection for their village sites in contradistinction to the Kukis and
perhaps other tribes like the Garos and Hill Kacharis. [3] But this
love of old sites, even if true of most Naga tribes, is certainly not
true of all and really exists in a very marked degree rather among the
Angamis than among Nagas as such, while even the Angamis can recount
their genealogies back to a time when their tribe was still in that
migratory stage still characteristic, more or less, of Kukis, Garos and
the Sema Nagas, and probably not far distant in the past of the Kacha
Naga tribes. The truth is that if not impossible it is exceedingly
difficult to propound any test by which a Naga tribe can be
distinguished from other Assam and Burma tribes which are not Nagas.
[4]
The expression “Naga” [5] is, however, useful as an arbitrary term to
denote the tribes living in certain parts of the Assam hills, which may
be roughly defined as bounded by the Hukong valley in the north-east,
the plains of the Brahmaputra valley to the north-west, of Cachar to
the south-west and of the Chindwin to the east. In the south the
Manipur valley roughly marks the point of contact between the “Naga”
tribes and the very much more closely interrelated group of Kuki
tribes—Thado, Lushei, Chin, etc.
This area now occupied by the Naga tribes is known to have been subject
to at least three great immigrations of races from different
directions. Thus there is known to have been (1) immigration from the
direction of Tibet and Nepal; [6] the Singphos are known to have come
from this direction, and it is probable that the Akas, Mishmis [7] and
other tribes of the north bank of the Brahmaputra did also, while the
Bodo tribes—Garos, Mikirs and Kacharis—certainly came from the same
direction. There has also been (2) immigration from the direction of
Southern China across the valley of the Irawadi, [8] of which movement
the Tai races—Shans, Ahoms, Tamans, etc.—formed part. And at the same
time there has been (3) immigration from the south which has barely
stopped now, for the Lushei-Kuki migration was still progressing
northwards until 1918, when it was only just prevented from spreading
into the unexplored area north of the Ti-Ho (Nantaleik) river by
driving the newly-formed colonies on the north bank back across the
river at the end of the rains in 1918 before the operations against the
Kukis opened in the following cold weather. By that time the Kukis in
their attempt to migrate north had already attacked Makware.
The Lushei, Thado and other Kuki tribes are perhaps themselves another
branch of the northern immigration, [9] but if so they must have turned
north again, for they drove up from the south in front of them both the
old Kukis—possibly non-Kuki tribes [10] already subjected to Kuki
influence—and that very different race which became the predominating
factor in the Angami Naga tribe, and which has probably entered to a
lesser degree into the composition of a number of its neighbours. The
Angamis or the ancestors of a section of what is now the Angami tribe
were undoubtedly located far to the south of the present Naga Hills.
In addition to these immigrants we have (4) still another element in
the Kol-Mon-Annam occupation which almost certainly extended over part
of the area now inhabited by Naga tribes. [11]
There is evidence to support a contention that traces of all these race
movements are to be found in the culture and composition of the tribes
now occupying the Naga Hills and known collectively as “Nagas.”
First of all we have the Naga traditions of origin themselves,
indicating, as one would expect to find, almost all the points of the
compass. From Tamlu northwards there are the various Konyak tribes,
whose traditions of origin at least include an ascription of their
origin to the hills to the north and to migration from the plains in
the west or north-west as well, though others, perhaps with Singpho
affinities, reached their present country from the north-east, while
one or two Konyak villages, indistinguishable from the Konyaks
generally in culture, claim an origin from the country to the south of
them at present occupied by Aos. Like the Konyaks, the Aos claim a part
origin from the plains to the north-west, though the bulk of the tribe
claims an autochthonous source at Chongliemdi. [12] The Khoirao again,
or some of them, for the Khoirao Naga villages are hardly uniform
enough to be described as forming a tribe, claim a western origin from
the plains of Assam, and this in particular is the case with Ngari and
perhaps one or two neighbouring villages, who have been less affected
by Memi Angami culture than the others, and of whose connection with
the Semas there can be no doubt. The Semas trace their origin to the
south, and may certainly be connected through the two villages called
“Swemi” (one of which is still Sema though surrounded by Angamis) with
the Khoiraos of Ngari and so with a western origin; [13] while a
connection is to be traced between the Sema with this western origin,
and the Kacharis, Garos, Lynngams and Bhois. The same probably applies
to the Kezami-Angamis, though the infusion of Angami blood and culture
has swamped the Sema characteristics. It is to be noted that Grierson
classes the Khoirao language as Naga-Bodo, and Kacharis, while allowing
Nagas, or at any rate Kacha Nagas, to eat and sleep in the porches of
their houses, refuse to allow Kukis inside them at all, giving as their
reason for this that the Kacharis and the Nagas were originally
descended from two brothers, whereas the Kuki is an alien entirely.
Possibly there may also be some connection between certain elements of
these Bodo tribes and the Manö and Southern Brè tribes of the Karens in
Burma. At the same time the Semas have absorbed numerous villages of
Sangtams who trace their origin to the south or south-east, the
Southern Sangtams putting it ultimately in Burma.
From the north-east or east, as has been mentioned, some of the Konyaks
derive their origin. The Kalyo-Kengyu tribe, with perhaps Singpho
affinities, trace their origin to the north in so far as can be
ascertained from the two or three villages on the Ti-Ho river with
which we are at present in contact. The Sangtam claim to a
south-eastern origin has been mentioned. The Northern Sangtams merely
point to the south, but the Southern Sangtams derive their origin from
the Chindwin valley to the south-east of them, and have a vague
tradition that their tribe has become separated into two parts of which
one went apparently west, while remnants are believed to exist in the
Chindwin valley still. It seems likely that the part of the tribe that
went westwards may be represented to-day in the Lhota tribe, who have a
similar if more definite tradition about the splitting of their tribe
into two parts, of which one stayed behind at the time of migration.
The Tamans, again, located round Tamanthi in the Chindwin valley were
at one time located in the hills to the east of them and returned to
the valley, leaving some of their fellow-tribesmen behind in the hills,
and might possibly be connected with those same Southern Sangtams. In
any case they trace their origin to China across the Irawadi valley,
and the descendants of part of their tribe are presumably still
somewhere represented among the Naga tribes.
Of tribes with a southern origin, the Angami is the principal if not
the only representative, though here again we find strong indications
of a mixed origin. To their present site they came from the south-east,
having come into their present country from the Tangkhul country to the
south of them, but unmistakable traces of terraced cultivation have
been found far to the south in the Lushai Hills, and it is possible
that the immigrants, who brought in this method of agriculture so
peculiarly the attribute of the Angami and, though in a less perfect
form, of their Tangkhul neighbours, came from further south still.
While a spirit in the sky is regarded by Angamis as the ancestress of
them all, one legend of their origin, a legend apparently of the
Kepepfüma division of the tribe, derives the Memi Angamis from the
daughter of a local god at Mekrima (Maikel) impregnated by a cloud that
came out of the south, and while a common Angami tradition points to a
village, in the Tangkhul country, known to them as Piwhema, as the
remotest place known to have been a fount of the Angami tribe, a
commoner legend still traces the two divisions of the Angami tribe, the
Kepezoma and the Kepepfüma, to two brothers who emerged from the bowels
of the earth at Mekrima just as the ancestors of the Ao tribe emerged
at “Six-Stones” on Chongliemdi Hill. In Kohima itself, however, the
biggest Angami village, one important clan, the Puchatsuma, came from
the west like the Khoiraos, while another clan claims to have come from
the south-west where the present country of the Kacha Nagas is. Part of
the Chang tribe again claims an origin from the south, though part
admits to a common origin with the Aos from Chongliemdi, perhaps due to
the Ao blood incorporated with the Changs in the course of their
extension westwards. They would seem also to have Konyak, Kachin, or
Singpho affinities in some respects. But the Changs have a very clear
and definite tradition of a complete change in their language, habits,
dress and everything else having taken place a few generations ago.
Their immediate origin several tribes place in the south. The Rengmas
thus migrated from the Kezami-Angami country, throwing out the Naked
Rengmas eastwards to Melomi, and ultimately sending the bigger portion
of the tribe westwards to the Mikir Hills. Tangkhuls point to the south
or to the east, Lhotas to the south with Rengmas and Angamis, though
there is one element in the Lhota country that points very definitely
to the snows of the Himalayas seen far to the north-west as the home of
their ancestors. All Naga tribes also have legends of clans descended
from indigenous women out of caves or wild men caught in the jungle and
tamed, whose descendants are now no longer distinguishable except by
this tradition from the rest of the tribe. Thus there are many Lhota
clans usually described as descended from jungle “spirits” [14]
captured by men of their tribe; the Phoms have a clan descended from a
woman with a child who emerged from a cave when they occupied the
country; the Angamis of Kohima have a clan descended from a far-distant
ancestor “of the wood-cutting generation” who was caught in the forest
and tamed by one of the earliest Angami occupants of Kohima village.
Again, just as each tribe, almost, contains traditions which cannot be
reconciled with a homogeneous origin, so marked differences of type and
physique are everywhere traceable, not only as between different
tribes, where they are in some cases most pronounced, but as between
individuals in the same tribe. Of course within the tribe each village
tends to form its own type, and after some experience of any tribe it
is possible to locate with some accuracy the villages of persons met by
the shape and appearance of their faces, but beyond this the physical
types are different. The Angami is tall and well proportioned, the
Tengima and Memi sub-tribes in particular having straight eyes and a
nose sometimes even aquiline, [15] but in any case features that are
far more regular than the very Mongolian-looking Sema, whose tendency
is most decidedly towards a flat nose and oblique eyes, combined with a
figure shorter and squatter than the Angamis. Another distinguishing
mark of the Angami among Naga tribes is the huge calves he has on his
legs. This is so marked that it finds a place in Sema folk-lore and is
a proverbial characteristic of the Angami. Yet one can see no reason in
external circumstances for the development of the calf of the Angami
leg any more than that of any other Naga leg. The Angami’s mountains
are no steeper than any other Naga’s, nor does he descend and ascend
them any oftener. The Kukis have a similar calf development, but it is
not combined as a rule with the tall stature of the Angami. The Chang
has the stature but not the breadth nor the calf, being rather
curiously built on very marked lines of his own—tall, lean and narrow,
though muscular enough.
In colour again there is much variation, and though the height at which
a village is situated seems most definitely to affect the complexion of
its occupants, it will by no means entirely account for the variation
in colour to be found both between different tribes and again between
different individuals within the tribes. Generally speaking three
distinct colour types may be traced, corresponding more or less to the
“straight-haired light brown race,” the “wavy-haired brown race” and
the “crisp-haired dark-brown race” into which Ratzel divides the races
of Indonesia. [16] Generally speaking the predominating colour among
the Naga tribes is red. A really dark skin, such as that of the Central
Indian or Santali coolies who work on tea gardens, is spoken of with
contempt and aversion, and the Changs go so far as to say that the only
decent colour for a man is red, disliking white less than black, it is
true, but nevertheless regarding it as decidedly unpleasing and
classifying Nagas only as Mat-mei, “real men,” of whom a red skin is an
attribute. With this red or light brown skin wavy hair is usual. In
villages at a high altitude the skin is often so fair that the pink of
the blood can be seen in the cheeks and a blush is easily detected. On
the other hand, a fair and sallow complexion and straight hair are
often to be seen in all tribes and at all altitudes, being apparently
independent of climate and little affected by it, but much more
prevalent among Manipuris and Kukis, in Ao Nagas and in the Konyak
tribes, than among other tribes. It is less common in Lhotas and hardly
to be seen at all among the Angamis, who are a very pronounced red,
while among the Semas, who are a darker brown than the Angamis though
in some high villages very fair (when washed), the sallow type is rarer
than among Lhotas. Everywhere and in all these tribes alike the
children are apt to have rusty-coloured reddish hair, which usually
turns black [17] as they get older.
Much rarer than the sallow type is that associated with a decidedly
dark brown skin and fuzzy hair suggesting the Negrito type. [18]
Individuals of this type may be met with occasionally in all tribes,
but they are nowhere very common, though perhaps least rare among
Phoms, Konyaks and Aos. The fuzzy hair is always a subject for
derision, being regarded as most unsightly (straight hair is by all
looked on as the most becoming), and more so perhaps even than a dark
skin.
Cephalic indices, as far as data are available, suggest a connection
between Aos, Manipuris and the Ahoms and perhaps some other
sub-Himalayan tribes of Assam, which might be due to a common infusion
of Tai blood.
One very marked line of cleavage between Naga tribes and their
neighbours is to be found in the methods of disposal of the dead.
Burning is practised in this hill area only by the Hinduized Manipuris
to the south and by the Singphos (or some of them) [19] to the
north-east, but the other methods practised in disposing of the dead
may be roughly classified as burial, exposure and, for want of a better
term, desiccation.
Burial is practised by the Angami, Sema, Rengma, Lhota, Sangtam,
Yachungr, Tangkhul and Kacha Nagas and by the Kukis, but the burial is
not in all cases absolute. Thus the Kukis, in the case of rich or
famous men, sometimes detach the head after decomposition and place it
in a cleft or hole in the side of a cliff where it could be got at only
with great difficulty. This practice is very rare, but certainly exists
or existed among some or all clans of Thado Kukis. Again, the Yachungr
and some of the Southern Sangtams bury their dead inside the house
under the bed, and do not hesitate to disturb the grave and dig out the
bones of its last occupant to make room for a new one. The Tangkhuls
and some, at any rate, of the Naked Rengmas build small houses over
their graves with little ladders up to them for the ghost to inhabit,
while the Lhotas, Sangtams and Semas build thatched roofs over their
graves, which perhaps suggests that they formerly exposed the bodies in
the miniature houses, since Aos who have turned Christian, though they
bury the body, build a thatched roof over the grave like that which
would be put over a body exposed on a platform if they followed the
custom of their unconverted fellow-tribesmen. North of the tribes
mentioned exposure on a platform is the rule, the body being in some
cases smoked first. Among Aos rich men are smoke-dried in their houses
for two months. The platform usually consists of a bamboo shelf
thatched over like a house and covered in at the ends, though some
Konyaks use a wooden dug-out like a boat to contain the body, reminding
one of the Lhota practice of using a dug-out boat-shaped coffin. In the
case, however, of the tribes that practise exposure, the practice here
again may be described as not absolute. The Phoms and some Konyaks
separate the head from the body, wrenching it off after decomposition,
the latter in some cases collecting the skulls in pots in a separate
place, and in others putting them out on stone platforms, while the
Phoms put them in niches in the cliffs. Both Phoms and some Konyaks
bring the heads of deceased men into their houses for a time (the Phoms
for a year) and treat them while there with some ceremony. [20]
The Chang tribe occupies a midway position both geographically and
culturally between the burying tribes and the exposing tribes, and
practises both customs indiscriminately and in accordance with the
fancy of the individual, though exposure is believed to be the newer
form of treating the dead. [21]
To the north-east or east of the tribes already mentioned in this
connection the Kalyo-Kengyu tribe, or part of that tribe, practises
what I can only describe as “desiccation” of the dead. This custom of
theirs has probably not before been placed on record. The dead are
smoked in their houses for two months over a fire and then the
smoke-dried body is retained as it is in a wooden coffin like a lidless
box with a mat or bit of thatch to cover it, either inside the house or
just outside the mat-work walling and immediately under the eaves at
the point nearest to the hearth. Here it is kept until the next sowing,
when on an appointed day all those who have died since last year’s
sowing are brought out, their withered bodies broken up, and their
bones picked out and counted by a number of persons of both sexes, not
fewer than a fixed minimum, slightly less for a woman than a man. The
bones of each corpse are placed in an earthen pot and put at the back
of the family granary, where they remain untouched till they dissolve
into dust or till the granary rots and falls on them, while the broken
bits of body together with the coffin and its appurtenances are thrown
away into the jungle, preferably over a steep place near the edge of
the village.
When the implements and weapons of the tribes in the Naga Hills area
are examined, it appears that while some are of marked northern form,
others are clearly connected with Indonesian forms such as those in use
among the Igorot of the Philippines, while other patterns seem to show
a very clear connection with the Kol-Mon-Annam types. One type of
northern origin is represented by the Kabui dancing dao and by a
similar dao intended for real use. The latter is very rare, but I have
one specimen picked up in a remote Kacha Naga village. It is precisely
similar to a dao figured on page 190 of Major Butler’s Sketch of Assam
(Smith, Elder & Co., 1847) as a Bhutanese weapon. One kind of obsolete
Lhota yanthang is also a northern type. [22] Both these kinds of Naga
daos are remarkable for the way in which the iron of the tang, which
fastens the blade to the wooden handle, projects beyond the hilt into a
sharp point, the object of which seems to be to facilitate sticking the
dao in the ground by one’s side when sitting. The Garos use a similar
type (and seem to be a tribe of northern origin), but so do the Khasis,
and it is possible that the type may have some other source. In any
case it is very marked and distinct from any kind of dao in general use
among Naga tribes. Of weapons suggesting relationship with Philippine
Island tribes there is a type of spear with ornamental barbs curving
outwards from the shaft, of which some Angami patterns closely resemble
the Igorot spear, while I have an old Kacha Naga spear with a head
identical in shape with Igorot spear-heads. This barbed type seems not
to occur north of the Angami country, though the Aos may at one time
have used miniature imitations of such spears for money, and I have an
obsolete Konyak spear-head with straight barbs closely resembling the
straight-barbed Igorot type. Again, there is a rare Tangkhul dao with a
long projection behind resembling a common type of Igorot dao, while
the stone hammer used by all Naga smiths could scarcely be
distinguished from a similar hammer from the Philippines. [23]
With the Kol-Mon-Annam family the shouldered hoe (see Gurdon, The
Khasis, p. 12) has been intimately associated. The Yachungr Naga hoe
(thoù), obtained from a tribe hitherto almost entirely isolated from
regular intercourse with its neighbours, is almost identical with the
miniature Khasi hoe used for hoeing sweet potatoes, and is very similar
to the Mikir hoe of the same type, while Mr. Peal found shouldered hoes
of a squarer type among some of the Konyak Nagas. Both these types
closely resemble some Battak hoes from Sumatra in the Leipzig Museum of
Ethnology (Ratzel, op. cit. I. p. 429) and are much the same shape as
the Easter Island obsidian tanged blades. [24]
The question of the use of the bow is also to be considered. While the
cross-bow is the weapon of Singphos, and has been adopted from them
apparently by the Naga tribes of the north-east in direct or indirect
communication with them, it is not in general use among the Naga
tribes. [25] The simple bow is also not the natural weapon of a Naga.
While the Kukis, before they acquired guns, relied, like the Khasis,
principally on the bow, the Naga rarely uses it. The weapon was known
to the Semas and is still employed by children as a toy, and the
Angamis have learnt the use of the pellet-bow, possibly from the Kukis,
and use it for killing small birds, but as a serious weapon the bow is
not used by either tribe; and though the Semas believe that their
ancestors used it, the Angamis appear never to have done so, a fact
which is interesting in view of the apparent absence or scarcity of the
bow in Borneo, Sumatra, and the Celebes (vide Ratzel’s Map, op. cit.,
Vol. I. p. 145).
Another point to be noticed is the use of the war drum. Sangtams, or
rather Northern Sangtams, Aos and the Konyak tribes, and probably the
Yachungr and Chang tribes in some degree, make enormous drums out of a
whole tree hollowed through a narrow slit in the top, and the ends
carved usually with a mithan head and hornbill tail respectively. This
drum, when beaten by the young men who can line up to twenty or thirty
or more on each side with drumsticks like dumb-bells, will send a
challenge, a pæan of victory, or a dirge for the dead, for miles. But
the Southern Nagas—Lhotas, Semas, South Sangtams, Rengmas, Angamis
etc.—do not make these drums at all. [26]
Diversity of origin on the part of the Naga tribes is suggested again
by a number of miscellaneous considerations. Most Nagas for instance
reap with a reaping-hook, but the Sema, like the Manö and Southern Brè
(Karens) of Burma, [27] and like the Garos, [28] use their hand only,
stripping the grain from the stalk straight into the basket, a most
painful method if it does save threshing.
The use of terraced cultivation forms a very marked point of
distinction between Naga tribes. The various branches of the Angami
tribe practise it in its most elaborate form, followed closely by some
Khoirao and Kacha Naga (Nzemi) villages very strongly dominated by
Angami culture, and followed in a quite appreciably less elaborate way
by Naked Rengmas, Tangkhuls and Maram Nagas. Other tribes do not use
irrigated terraces at all, if we except the Semas, among whom it has
been deliberately introduced by Government, and who still only practise
this form of cultivation in a very small degree, save in a few villages
who have adopted Angami culture in general. At the same time, even
among the Angamis, the Chakroma villages have no terraces. It may be
noted that the Angami system of terraces produces physical features
exactly like the system of the Bontoc Igorot in the Philippines.
Among the tribes that jhum there is a marked difference in the method
of sowing rice. The more southern tribes—Angami, Lhota, Rengma,
Sema—sow carefully, digging a little hollow and dropping in the grain.
The Aos and Changs, on the other hand, sow anyhow, just chucking the
seed down broadcast, and so do the Konyaks, in so far as they sow rice
at all. The amazing fact about the latter is that taro, not rice, is
the staple crop, and in spite of excellent land for rice cultivation,
they only sow very little. They prefer taro (Colocasia antiquorum).
[29]
Closely associated with terraced cultivation is the custom of erecting
megalithic monuments. The erectors of the most numerous monoliths are
the tribes practising terraced cultivation, though Kacha Nagas
(Lyengmei) and Kabuis put up little dolmens and occasional monoliths,
while the Lhotas and Rengmas proper, also having no terraced
cultivation, yet erect monoliths and alignments of monoliths in all
their villages. North and east of the two latter tribes, however, few
Nagas seem to put up either, and the place of stones in ceremonial is
apparently taken by wooden and Y-shaped posts, used by Semas, Sangtams,
Kalyo-Kengyu, Chang and possibly other tribes, while the Ao uses
round-topped posts or posts with a divided top. [30] The Garos, it may
be noticed, also use the Y-shaped post, while the similarity of both
the Y-shaped Sema post and the round-topped Ao post respectively to the
bifurcated and round-topped stones left by the old Kachari kings at
Dimapur is too close for mere coincidence. It should be added that Mr.
Mills tells us that Lhotas occasionally substitute a Y-shaped post for
a stone in their ceremonials where no stones suitable for erection can
be found, while there is a kindred of a clan in Yekhum village which
migrated from further east and which habitually erects posts, as it is
not allowed to erect stones. [31] In building, again, while the
Angamis, Tangkhuls, Semas and other tribes south of them build on the
ground, the Aos and other tribes to the north build on a bamboo
platform or “machan.” The Lhota method is a sort of compromise, as when
he builds on a “machan” he covers the floor with earth.
Even more than their customs the social constitution of several Naga
tribes suggests a diversity of origin. In more than one tribe we find
traces of a dual division crossed by a triple one, and indicating a
division into three elements, either as three separate groups or as two
primary groups, one of which is again split making three. In addition
to these there are odd clans descended from “men caught in the jungle”
and others, as already mentioned. Thus among the Aos are found two
linguistic groups, Chongli and Mongsen, existing side by side in the
same villages though retaining frequently their different languages,
and always, among the women, their differences of tattoo and of
hairdressing. The word for “mother” in the one of these two Ao
languages is ocha (Chongli), in the other avu (Mongsen). Across this
dual division of the Aos we get a triple division into three clans,
Pongen, Langkam and Chami, which are nominally at any rate exogamous
and which run through both the linguistic groups, though the
nomenclature varies, and though the whole exogamous system is somewhat
complicated by subdivision and by adoption from one group to another.
Of the three groups mentioned Pongen is generally recognized as doyen,
while the social position of Chami is usually regarded as decidedly
inferior to the other two. Again, among the Southern Konyak villages at
any rate there seem to be two linguistic and tattoo groups (one of
which tattoos the face of the warrior and the other the chest only)
called Thendu and Thenkoh, while there are said to be also three social
divisions running through both groups, of which the first, called Ang,
[32] corresponds to the Ao “Pongen” and provides hereditary chiefs in
those villages which possess them, though in the case of the Konyak
chief the heir to the chieftainship has to be of Ang blood by both
parents, contrary to the prevailing exogamous system. In the Rengma
tribe we have again two linguistic groups, as among the Aos, existing
side by side sometimes in the same village, and called Inseni-Kotsenu
and Tseminyu respectively. Of these two groups the latter apparently
are again divided into two parts distinguished by the use of different
terms for “mother” (avyo and apfsü). [33] The Angamis are again divided
into two groups commonly known as Thevoma and Thekronoma (or Cheroma)
or Solhima, using the words azo and apfu respectively for “mother,”
although the former term only is in use among the numerous Chakrima
sub-tribe of Angamis, though the distinction between the Thekronoma,
called by them Solhima, and the Thevoma is recognized. These two
divisions of the Angamis may be spoken of as Pezoma and Pepfüma
respectively according to the terms they use for “mother.” The Pezoma
group appears to be also subdivided into Sachema and Thevoma, two
divisions of more or less equal status, though the former is actually
the senior. Nowadays, however, the Sachema group, which is very small
indeed numerically as compared with Thevoma, has been virtually lost
sight of, and “Thevoma” includes the whole of the Pezoma. It should be
added that according to tradition the Thekrono division was originally
the elder, but was cheated of its birthright by the first ancestor of
the Thevo division. The word Solhima, used ordinarily by a large part
of the Angami tribe for the Thekronoma division, means “alien” or
“stranger.” [34] In the Memi group of the Angamis we have again a third
division, called Cherhechima in some villages, which is regarded as
socially inferior to such an extent that the other Memi will not
intermarry with it. This division seems also to be regarded as the
source of some unlucky emanation which has an evil influence on any who
fall under it, though the neighbouring Tengima, Dzunokehena and Kezami
Angamis have no objection at all to intermarrying with the Cherhechima.
The Lhotas seem to be divided like the Angami into two phratries using
oyo for “mother,” with a third using opfu, and, as in the case of the
Angamis, the use of the distinct terms does not extend throughout the
whole tribe, but seems to be dying out. [35]
Turning to the polity of the village, different tribes have very
different customs. Among the Semas a system of hereditary chiefs
exists, each chief having an almost feudal position as lord of the
manor of his village, a system which seems to have obtained among the
Kacharis, as the remnants of it are still perceptible among the remote
Kachari villages of the south-west of the Naga Hills. The Changs have a
system of chiefs very like that of the Semas, and both may be compared
in this respect to the Thado Kukis, though among the latter the system
is more elaborately developed. The Konyaks too have hereditary chiefs
in the Thendu section of the tribe, though not in the Thenkoh division,
but among the Konyaks the priestly side of the chieftainship seems more
prominent than among the other Naga tribes with chiefs. [36] On the
other hand, the Ao and Tangkhul villages are governed by bodies of
elders representing the principal kindreds in the village, while the
Angami, Rengma and Lhota and apparently Sangtam villages are run on
lines of democracy, a democracy so extreme in the case of the Angami
that, in view of his peculiar independence of character, it is
difficult to comprehend how his villages held together at all before
they were subject to the British Government. The Angami has, however,
hereditary priests, office descending in the line of the first founder
of the village in question.
In the eschatology of the different tribes there is, on the one hand, a
belief apparently universally accepted which regards the souls of the
dead as inhabiting butterflies or other insects after death.
Concurrently with this we find a belief in an existence in a future
world in which the shades of the dead go on living just as they did in
this world. Most tribes place this world underground and indicate some
mountain [37]—usually one formed as it were in a succession of rises
vaguely suggesting steps from a distance—as the path by which this
under-world is approached. The Angamis, however, believe that the souls
of the dead who have conformed to the best (Angami) standard of life
spend their future existence in the sky in the company of the
ancestress or creatrix of all life. Other tribes, though believing in
the existence of a sky world, or at any rate of sky spirits, do not
locate the home of the dead there. Along with these a third belief is
also to be found, as among the Semas, according to which the spirits of
the good dead go to the East and those of the unsatisfactory dead to
the West.
Among other points worth notice are the fact that lycanthropy practised
by the Semas and other tribes to the north of the Angami country is
never resorted to by Angamis, though they know of the existence in the
belief and even believe in the common origin of the tiger and man. [38]
Similarly the Khasis seem to have heard the theory from the Garos, but
do not claim ever to practise it themselves.
In folk-lore some stories seem common to nearly all tribes and to the
Kacharis too, while the story of the girl who comes out of an orange
and the stories of fighting stones and the belief that the human race
is becoming gradually smaller and will so continue till it is small
enough to climb up a chili plant, are common both to Nagas and to the
Khasis. [39] On the other hand, there seem to be certain groups of
stories which are not common to the Angamis in the south and to the
Changs and their neighbours in the north.
Linguistic considerations are notoriously dangerous in their
application to ethnography, but even here it is impossible to pass over
without remark the very decided cleavage between the vocabularies and
numerals of the languages classified by Sir George Grierson as Western
and Central Naga, and the vocabularies and numerals of the Konyaks and
Changs to the north-east, though the Aos have words characteristic of
both groups. This north-eastern group seems in fact to approach quite
appreciably nearer to the Kuki and Bodo languages of the southern
tribes than to the languages of the Central Naga tribes in between the
two.
Emphasis has sometimes been laid upon an affection for old sites, or an
aversion to migration, as characteristic of Nagas, distinguishing them
from the migratory Kuki, who, like the Hill Kachari, moves his village
by preference, whereas the Naga only moves his under compulsion. This,
however, as has already been pointed out, cannot by any means be
applied to all tribes at present designated Naga.
A perhaps trivial point is the belief that neglect of washing causes
illness, and the concomitant habit of personal cleanliness which is so
much more marked in the Angami tribe than among its neighbours to the
north, though the Lhota seems to have it in a greater degree than the
Rengma, Sema, or Ao; the Angami dwelling, on the other hand, is
frequently filthy as compared to those of the other tribes mentioned,
principally owing to his habit of keeping his cattle in the front room.
Such are the more outstanding facts of the case, and it is almost
superfluous to state the more obvious conclusions to be drawn from
them, that no Naga tribe is of pure blood, but the area which they
inhabit has been the scene of a series of immigrations from north-east,
north-west and south, and that the different stocks introduced in this
way have entered into their composition. [40] Indeed, in view of the
struggles that have taken place for the fertile plains of Burma to the
east and India to the west, it is inevitable that some elements of the
races worsted in these struggles should have been pushed up into the
hills. In particular the line of the Dikhu and the Ti-Ho rivers would
seem to mark more or less the point of contact between movements
southward from the north and northward from the south, roughly marking
as it does, except indeed for the Ao tribe, the line south of which
dead are always buried, [41] and also the marked cleavage between the
languages of the Western Nagas and of the North-eastern Nagas, the
latter bearing more resemblance perhaps to those of the Kukis in the
south than to those of their immediate neighbours. The immigration of
Singpho elements from the north and Tai elements from the east are
absolutely clear.
The other conclusions I would suggest are some of them frankly
speculative, but are perhaps not at variance with current views on the
history of Indonesia in general. I should deduce a stage at which some
race of Kol-Mon-Annam or Mon-Khmêr affinities was in occupation,
leaving traces of that occupation in certain implements, weapons and
perhaps in some folk-tales. I should describe the immigration from the
north-west or west as definitely Bodo in character, and ascribe to this
origin the erection of Y-shaped posts [42] and the practice of reaping
by hand, and the indications of the more recent existence of a
matrilineal system. Beyond this, whatever the Singphos and Kacharis may
be, an admixture of Tai blood from the east is beyond dispute. It is
the nature of the immigration from the south which is most intriguing.
No one who has had much to do with the Angamis could fail to perceive
the difference of disposition and character between them and the other
Naga tribes, though it is very difficult to state in what it actually
consists, and it is certainly not so great as to constitute an entire
distinction between the Angamis and the rest of their fellow-Nagas. My
own view is that the Angamis contain a very much greater proportion of
blood bequeathed by a mixed body of immigrants from the south (some of
them at any rate nearly related either in blood or culture or both to
the Igorot of the Philippine Islands), who already consisted perhaps of
two races of which the weaker and less numerous was a race of settled
habits and developed civilization, while the stronger was of more
barbarous but warlike type. [43] The inhabitants they found already in
occupation would be either absorbed into one of the two divisions of
this mixed tribe or make a third class where they survived in
sufficient numbers, and to this source I would ascribe the social
institutions of the Western Naga tribes. I would ascribe the elaborate
system of terracing to the more civilized of the southern immigrants,
and to these southern immigrants in general the use of elaborate
stone-work in building and the erection of stone monoliths and perhaps
the practice of burying their dead—the Angamis even bury the heads of
their enemies—and also perhaps the use of ultra-democratic
institutions. If these deductions be correct I should regard the Semas
as having received chiefs from the more barbarous of the southerners,
and in the Lhotas I should see the result of a more intimate contact of
both southern elements with the tribe at present represented by the
Sangtams, who seem to have at one time occupied much more of the Naga
Hills than they do now that a large and still increasing proportion of
their tribe has been absorbed by the more virile Sema. The Khoiraos,
Kacha Nagas, Tangkhuls and Marami have all been much more strongly
influenced by the culture of these southern immigrants, than have the
other tribes north of the Angami country, and have accepted their
culture to varying degrees.
To return to the Lhotas, this tribe is divided into three phratries—the
Tompyaktserre, the Izumontserre and the Mipongsandre, meaning
respectively “Forehead-clearing men,” [44] “Scattered men” and
“Fire-smoke-conquering men.” The expression “Forehead-clearing men” I
do not attempt to explain, [45] but the phratry corresponds to the
Angami Kepepfüma, which I have taken to represent the weaker but more
civilized section of the southern immigrants. Among the Lhotas it is to
be noticed that this phratry is the superior. Among the Angamis it is
the inferior, with the tradition, however, that it was once the elder.
Its women are addressed by their children as Apfü (Angami) or Apfu
(Lhota). The Lhotas, however, have no terraced cultivation. The clans
of the “Scattered-men” phratry use oyo for mother in some cases, opfu
in others, but oyo predominating on the whole; but the name suggests a
tribe of very different habits to the community-loving Naga, and would
better suit a people like the Kacharis or Garos, living in small moving
settlements and perpetually shifting from one place to another, a few
houses at a time. In the “Fire-smoke-conquering-men,” so called from
the villages they burnt in warfare, one may see the influence of the
more barbarous element of the (? southern) invaders, and the bulk of
this phratry uses ayo for “mother” like the Kepezoma of the Angamis.
[46]
I therefore conclude that in most if not all Naga tribes traces are to
be found of the Mon-Khmêr and Bodo races, the Tai race, and a fourth
race of southern origin akin to some of the inhabitants of the
Philippines and Borneo and other parts of Indonesia.
For the history of this corner of the earth is yet to be written, and,
if ever it is done, it is to studies such as Mr. Mills has given us
that future investigators will turn, for the tribes themselves will
have vanished past all recognition. Has not the very mingetung of Phiro
hidden its grim fruit in the folds of its own bark, lest the village
forget that the days of the head-hunter are gone? Education and
Litigation, doubtful apparitions, are usurping his place; the old
beliefs wither under the shrivelling touch of Civilization, and the
voice of the Missionary is heard in the land. The axe is laid to the
root of Igdrasil; the Jötunn are climbing into Asgerd.
J. H. H.
Khoro,
April, 1921.
THE LHOTA NAGAS
PART I
GENERAL
Introductory—Origin and Migrations—Appearance—Dress—Ornaments
—Weapons—Character.
The Lhota Nagas are a tribe numbering some twenty thousand souls which
occupies a piece of territory that may be roughly described as the
drainage area of the Middle and Lower Doyang and its tributaries, down
to the point where it emerges into the plains. Their land can show
extremes of climate, from the high spurs of Wokha Hill, where frost is
not unknown, to the malarious foot-hills bordering on the plains, where
the heat radiated from the sandstone makes life almost unbearable in
the hot weather. They call themselves Kyŏn, meaning simply “man,” the
name Lhota, of which I have been unable to discover any derivation,
being that by which they are known to Government. They have long been
in contact with the Assamese. Many villages even possess grants of land
in the plains given by the Ahom Rajas, on the understanding apparently
that the Lhotas in return for the land would refrain from taking
Assamese heads. This agreement was loyally kept, and villages such as
Khoro, who had no hostile Naga neighbours whom they could raid, used to
content themselves with waylaying and killing an occasional Mikir on
his way to or from market in the plains. There is no record of any
fighting between Lhotas and Assamese, save a raid in 1685 on some
villages of the plains near the Doyang by Nagas, [47] who were probably
Lhotas: Akuk and Lakhuti claim to have met and defeated a force of
Burmese at the time of the Burmese invasion of Assam. [48] The first
recorded meeting between a European and Lhotas is that of Lieut. H.
Bigge in 1841, who apparently did not like what little he saw of them.
He calls them “a sullen race,” and says that they “are alike filthy in
their persons and habits, and have a pompous mode of addressing one
which might in some cases be interpreted as insolent.” [49] Evidently
the gallant officer found the contrast between the suave, sleek
plainsman and the easy-going, unwashen hillman rather startling.
Captain Brodie, however, the first Englishman to visit the Lhota at
home, was more fortunate. He marched along part of the Lakhuti range in
1844 and was given a most friendly reception. [50] In 1875 Captain
Butler when in charge of a survey party was ambushed by the village of
Pangti and mortally wounded. The truth of this disaster is as follows:
Captain Butler arranged to march from Lakhuti to Pangti, and ordered
the former village to supply men to carry his baggage. Lakhuti, which
had old scores to wipe off against Pangti, decided to lay a trap for
them, and sent a message asking them to attack the head of the column,
while promising that they themselves would throw down their loads and
attack the rear. Pangti fell into the snare and ambushed and speared
Captain Butler. Lakhuti did nothing, and of course got off scot free,
while Pangti was burnt. Naturally Pangti has never forgiven Lakhuti for
this piece of treachery. In 1878 a stockade was established at Wokha
and all the Ndrung villages, [51] i.e. those on the left bank of the
Doyang, were annexed. The rest of the tribe was annexed in 1889.
Origin and Migration.
The problem of the ultimate origin and composition of the Naga tribes
still awaits solution. It will be sufficient if I give here the main
Lhota traditions of their origin and early migrations. These are
various and mutually inconsistent. One, but not the commonest, states
that the Lhotas and plainsmen were once one people who migrated from a
place called Lengka somewhere north or north-west of the Naga Hills,
the exact site being unknown. They soon split up into two bodies, one
of which became the plainsmen of the Brahmaputra valley and the other
the Nagas of the hills. The curious long-hafted daos called yanthang, a
few of which are still kept as highly-prized heirlooms, are specially
connected with this tradition, and are said to have been given to the
Nagas by their “brothers” of the plains. Some at any rate are not of
Naga manufacture. One which was shown me at Okotso, for instance, was
ornamented with brass bands. The usual tradition, however, gives the
Lhotas an autochthonous origin, and is almost identical with that told
by the Angamis of themselves. The story goes that three brothers,
Limhachan, Izumontse and Rankhanda, the ancestors of the three
phratries of the tribe, came out of a hole in the earth near the
miraculous stone at Kezakenoma. If one load of rice were dried on this
stone it became two loads. Owing, however, to the indecent behaviour of
a man of the tribe the virtue went out of the stone, [52] and the
Lhotas set out on their migrations, taking with them a little piece of
the stone, which is still preserved at Pangti. Yet another tradition
says that the common ancestors of the Lhotas, Southern Sangtams, Semas
and Rengmas, came from somewhere near Mao. The first to split off were
the Southern Sangtams, with whom the Lhotas claim close affinities.
[53] It is said, for instance, that many generations ago a Lhota from
Lungitang, knowing that his forefather had left “brothers” south of the
Tizu, somehow made his way through the Sema country and brought back
with him a Southern Sangtam, whose last descendant, by name Ezanyimo,
died at Wokha about ten years ago. Old men say that specimens of the
round brass ornaments (pyabi) which Southern Sangtams wear on their
“lengtas,” and of axe-shaped Sangtam daos, were preserved as heirlooms
in some Lhota houses to within living memory. From Mao the tribe
migrated slowly to Kohima, and from there, with the Angamis pressing
them in the rear, reached the neighbourhood of Lozema, where the Semas
are said to have split off. Thence they moved slowly on till they
reached Themoketsa Hill, known to the Lhotas as Honohoyanto
(fowl-throat-cutting-village). Here the mist begins to clear a little
and most Lhotas claim to trace their descent back through nine or ten
generations to some ancestor who lived at Honohoyanto. At this point
the Rengmas split off and occupied their present country, while the
Lhotas pressed on, one body through Phiro and Saki to the Lower Doyang,
fighting the Angamis as they went, and another body to Wokha Hill,
where a huge village called Lungcham is said to have been founded a
little to the north of the present site of Niroyo. So vast was the
crowd of warriors that at feasts and “gennas” there was never enough
“madhu” to go round, though each man was only given one cock’s spurful
as his share. It was clear that they must split up or starve, so they
began to move off and found villages, sometimes ousting the Aos, who
were once in possession of almost the whole of the present Lhota
country, and sometimes occupying vacant sites to which they were led by
various omens. A common story, told to account for the founding of
Lungsachung, Lotsü and several villages, runs as follows: A man had a
sow which wandered off one day and could not be found. He tracked it
for miles, till he found it lying under a big tree, where it had
littered. He at once decided to found a new village on the spot, and
the tree where the sow had littered became the head-tree.
[Ceremonies connected with the founding of a new village.] But the days
of expansion are over now, and in many a village abandoned house sites
and “genna” stones all overgrown with jungle show how the tribe is
shrinking. Yet attempts are still made from time to time to reoccupy
the sites of old villages wiped out by malaria, and the ceremonies
connected with the founding of a new village deserve to be described.
Having selected a site with a good water supply and a tree suitable for
a head-tree (mingetung), the would-be founder [54] cuts a branch from a
bush on the site. If the cut is a clean one and no leaves fall the omen
is good. If the branch is not cut through with one blow or leaves fall
the omen is bad. The omens being good he and his fellow-colonists
select a man to be priest (Puthi) of the new village, and while still
retaining the old village as their headquarters, set to work to clear
the jungle on the new site. Before doing so, however, the Puthi throws
a cornelian bead into the spring which is to supply the new village
with water, and prays that the young men and maidens of the village may
be strong. After the jungle has been cut the founder makes new fire
with a fire-stick [55] (mi-hm). The Puthi then spears a small boar,
which must not be singed in the fire, and cuts the throat of a cock,
from the entrails of which he takes the omens. The pig is cut up, and
the Puthi makes a little square of sticks on the ground. In the middle
he puts an egg and on each side thirty tiny pieces of pork. All eat the
rest of the pig, the pot in which the meat was boiled being turned
upside down on the ground and left behind. The jungle having been burnt
and a small “morung” constructed, houses are built. When the village is
ready for occupation the colonists go to it from the old village in
ceremonial dress and fully armed, taking with them a branch stolen from
the mingetung of the old village. This they stick in the ground under
the head-tree of the new village. To ensure a good water supply in
their new home they must bring water in a freshly-cut section of bamboo
from the spring of the old village and pour it into that of the new. If
they are lucky enough to be able to steal them they also put under
their mingetung and in their “morung” luck-stones (oha) from the old
village, thereby ensuring good fortune for their new home. About a
month later the ceremony of oyantsoa (village-making) is performed.
This will be described later in connection with the institution of a
new Puthi. [56]
Appearance.
In colour the Lhota varies from light to medium brown, the inhabitants
of the low ranges tending to be darker than those of high villages. The
complexion even of the fairest girls is sallow, and the almost rosy
cheeks one sometimes sees among the Angamis, and more rarely among the
Semas, are unknown in the Lhota country. The hair is as a rule
straight, though wavy and curly hair is often seen in the villages near
the Ao border, in which there is almost certainly a considerable
admixture of Ao blood. [57] The hair of a Lhota child is brown, with a
distinct rusty tinge, becoming black in the adult. Young men usually
pluck out the hairs of the chin with the nails of the thumb and
forefinger, but middle-aged and elderly men sometimes have considerable
beards, particularly near the plains, where types may occasionally be
seen hardly distinguishable in outward appearance from Sylhet
Mahommedans. The eyes are brown and slightly oblique in many
individuals, the scantiness of the outer half of the eyebrows
accentuating the Mongolian appearance of the face. Men average about
five feet eight in height and women some three inches less. In build
the Lhota is slight, but strong and wiry, though he has not the
enormous calf development of the Angami. The hands and feet are small
and well formed. The big toe is set rather far apart from the others,
and a Lhota talking will often pick up a stone in his toes and tap the
ground with it, just as a European might pick up a pencil in his
fingers and fidget with it.
The style of hair-cutting resembles that of the Semas, Aos and other
tribes. The back and sides of the head are shaved all round up to a
point level with the top of the ears, the hair on the crown of the head
being left long enough to reach to the top of the shaven portion. [58]
When asked why they have adopted this style of hair-cutting they say
that their forefathers used to wear their hair long, but took to
cutting it in the present fashion because it kept getting into their
eyes and catching in the jungle. The custom obtaining in the Southern
Sangtam village of Phulangrr perhaps gives the clue to the real origin
of the fashion. There no man is allowed to shave the back and sides of
his head till he has killed an enemy in war. Till then he wears his
hair cut more or less like a European. Little Lhota girls have their
heads completely shaved till they are about seven years old, when the
hair is allowed to grow. Women wear their hair in an untidy bun on the
nape of the neck, tied round with a bunch of strings of their own hair.
Baldness and grey hair are both uncommon and disliked, and old men
sometimes hide their scanty locks under a wig of black goat’s hair on a
bamboo frame. All children have the lobe of the ear pierced at the
conclusion of the birth “genna.” At the first Ramo [59] “genna” he
attends a boy has a hole pierced in the upper part of the helix. This
is done with a pointed piece of bamboo, and no special ceremonies are
attached to the operation. Among the Southern Lhotas, and occasionally
among the Northern, another hole is pierced in the middle of the concha
at the next Ramo. The holes in the helix and concha are for the cotton
wool with which the ear is adorned and often become much distended in
the case of elderly men.
Circumcision is not practised and neither sex is tattooed.
Dress.
[Clothes.] The one garment never discarded by a man in public is the
rive, commonly spoken of in Naga-Assamese as “lengta.” This consists of
a long narrow piece of stout cloth ending in a broad flap. In putting
it on the narrow piece is wound once round the waist so that it joins
at the back and forms a belt. It is then brought through between the
legs from the back, and up through the belt, the broad flap being
allowed to hang down in front. The result is a garment which is both
serviceable and entirely decent. The flap is either white or dark blue,
with horizontal red stripes, broad among the Northern Lhotas and narrow
among the Southern. In the old days a dark blue rive could only be worn
by a man who had done the head-taking “genna,” but this distinction is
being rapidly dropped. A boy’s first garment, assumed without any
ceremonies when about seven or eight years old, is the flap of one of
his father’s discarded “lengtas” hung from a bit of string tied round
his waist. The skirt (sürham) worn by the women is about twenty-two
inches deep. It is bound tightly round the waist and the overlapping
top corner tucked in in front of the left hip. The edge which shows is
often ornamented with iridescent beetle wings or bits of yellow orchid
stalk. Among the Northern Lhotas the sürham is of dark blue cloth with
narrow horizontal red stripes in threes, and a band of paler blue
embroidered with red three inches broad running round the middle of the
cloth. The skirts worn by Southern women have no red stripes, and the
pale blue band is broader and nearer the top of the cloth. When about
five or six years old a little girl puts on her first skirt
(khondrosü). This is about ten inches deep, white with a dark blue
border and a little red embroidery in the middle.
When working in the fields, or in the hot weather even when lounging
about at home, a man usually wears nothing but his “lengta.” When
visiting his friends, however, or to sit about in the shade, or for a
journey he always wears a body-cloth measuring about four feet by five
feet. Usually such a cloth is simply wrapped round the body under the
right armpit and over the left shoulder. But for any occupation such as
hunting, where both arms must be left free, and whenever a cloth is
worn at any “genna,” it is tied on to the body as follows: The cloth is
flung over the back, and the two top corners are brought round, one
under the left arm and the other over the right shoulder, and tied
across the chest. The two bottom corners are then brought up outside
the cloth which is hanging over the back, and crossed and tied on the
chest, one passing over the left shoulder and the other under the right
arm.
The body-cloths are of various patterns and indicate the number of
social “gennas” [60] performed by the wearer. The first is sütam, a
white cloth with broad dark blue horizontal stripes. This is worn by
boys [61] and men who have performed no social “gennas.” A man who has
performed the first social “genna” may wear the phangdhrap. Among the
Northern Lhotas this is a dark blue cloth, edged with broad stripes of
red with a broad strip of white cloth running across the middle of the
cloth parallel with the red stripes. Among the Southern Lhotas the red
stripes are narrower and a pale blue band near the top of the cloth
takes the place of the white band. A Northern Lhota who has performed
both the first social “genna” and the head-taking “genna” wears a cloth
called chamthe, which is exactly like the phangdhrap of his section of
the tribe, save that the median band is pale blue instead of white. For
the performance of the second social “genna” no cloth is awarded, but
the Southern Lhotas put on the ethasü after performing the third social
“genna.” This is a dark blue cloth edged top and bottom with four red
bands, the body of the cloth being ornamented with little squares of
red embroidery. Finally, a man who has completed the series of social
“gennas” by dragging a stone wears a handsome cloth called lungpensü,
which is dark blue with five bands of light blue about one inch broad,
and three very narrow lines of light blue at top and bottom. A man who
has dragged a stone more than once has four or rarely even five narrow
lines at the top and bottom of his cloth, which is called eshamsü. The
rükhusü (“enemy-frightening-cloth”) of the Southern Lhotas is rarely
worn nowadays, and can only be assumed by old warriors of note. It
consists of a lungpensü or eshamsü with a broad median band of white
cloth ornamented with highly conventionalized representations of men
drawn on cloth with black gum. These bands are made by Rengmas, never
by Lhotas. The rükhusü of the Northern Lhotas is exactly similar to the
cloth ordinarily worn by rich Aos, and is dark blue with six very broad
red stripes, set closely together at top and bottom. The median band,
which is always bought from the Aos, is about two and a half inches
broad, and ornamented with a conventional design representing human
heads, mithan horns and tigers.
Like the men, the women usually leave the upper part of the body bare,
though filthy waistcoats are nowadays commonly worn by both men and
women in villages near the plains. When body-cloths are worn by women
they are either flung loosely round the body so that the top outer
corner lies over the left shoulder, or bound tightly under the armpits.
Among the Northern Lhotas an unmarried girl usually wears a plain dark
blue cloth (muksü). On the night of her marriage, however, when she
goes to her husband’s house, she puts on a very pretty cloth called
loroesü, dark blue, with big squares of narrow white and red lines,
giving a sort of tartan effect. When her husband has dragged a stone
she may exchange her loroesü either for a lungpensü, which is almost
exactly similar to his, or for a charaksü, a cloth closely resembling
loroesü, but with the tartan squares outlined with much broader red
lines. Among the Southern Lhotas unmarried women and wives of men who
have not yet dragged a stone wear a cloth called süpang, dark blue,
with a broad light blue horizontal band near the top. When her husband
has dragged a stone a woman wears a lungpensü.
In wet weather men and women wear slung on their backs light
rain-shields (phuchyo) made of broad leaves carefully arranged between
two layers of basket work, and strengthened by an edging of thin split
bamboo.
Ornaments.
Apart from the finery in which he decks himself on ceremonial
occasions, the well-to-do Lhota usually wears certain ornaments on any
occasion when he wishes to be well dressed. In the holes in the helix
and concha of his ear are tufts of cotton wool. Usually these are quite
small, but old men in villages near the Sema border often wear big
wing-shaped pads of cotton wool like those worn by their Sema
neighbours. Some small ornament, such as a little brass wire spiral, is
worn in the lobe of the ear, or in some villages an ornament formed of
two or three porcupine quills, bound with yellow orchid stalk on to a
bit of cane boiled ebony black in pig’s fat. Like Semas and Aos, Lhotas
wear above the elbow armlets (koro) consisting of sections sawn from an
elephant’s tusk. Formerly the sole supply came from elephants killed
locally. Now Angami traders buy ivory in Calcutta and Benares and sell
armlets ready sawn. Only old men may saw up a tusk. For a young man to
do so would be very unlucky. A man who cannot afford real ivory will
sometimes wear an armlet made of white wood smoothed and rounded to
resemble the real article. Wristlets (khekap) of cowries sewn on cloth
may be worn by anyone who has done the head-taking “genna.” [62] A man
who has got first, second or third spear in at the killing of an enemy
has a little cross of cowries at the top of his wristlets. Those worn
by the Northern Lhotas are identical with the Sema type. They are
bought from the Aos and are composed of cowries filed down till they
are very narrow and sewn close together on to a cloth foundation. A red
hair fringe (khezi) is worn, on the wristlets, ordinarily short, but of
long hair in the case of a warrior of note. A man who has been in at
the death of a tiger has little bunches of black hair in his red
fringe. The wristlets of the Southern Lhotas are of unfiled cowries and
the red hair fringe is rarely worn.
The commonest form of necklace is one composed of four or five strings
of black beads made from the seeds of the wild plantain (eshe).
Sometimes they are worn loosely round the neck, and sometimes are in
the form of a tight necklet, the rows being kept in place by narrow
pierced conch-shell supports. These supports are sometimes bought from
Angamis and sometimes prepared by the Lhotas themselves, with the aid
of a primitive but effective pump-drill, with a point made from a piece
of an old umbrella stay. To do the head-taking “genna” entitles a man
to wear a neck ornament of one or two pairs of wild boar’s tushes
(soho), with their bases bound with red cane, and fastened with a
square conch-shell button with a cornelian bead in the middle.
The women’s ornaments are few and simple, and the magnificent strings
of cornelian beads worn by Ao and Sema women are rarely seen among the
Lhotas. In the lobe of the ear is some simple little ornament such as a
bunch of the crest feathers of the kalij pheasant bound round with red
wool or yellow orchid stalk. Round the neck the usual plantain seed
necklace is worn, sometimes with a big conch-shell pendant (lakup) in
front. Above each elbow is a thick round pewter armlet (tiwo), and on
each wrist four or five small flat brass bracelets (rambam). The
armlets and bracelets are bought ready-made from the plains.
The full dress of the Lhota warrior closely resembles that of the Sema
and Ao. Besides the ornaments already mentioned, he wears on his head a
wig (thongko) either of the long hair from the neck and shoulders of
the Himalayan black bear, or of the fur of the arms of the male gibbon.
In his wig he may wear three king-crow feathers (yizememhi) if he has
done the head-taking “genna” once, or if he has done it more than once,
one hornbill tail feather (reching’mhi) for each occasion. On his ears
he hangs big pads of cotton wool, and sticks in the lobe of his ear an
ornament (tera) of drongo and scarlet minivet feathers. If he has ever
in his life raided enemies working in the fields and carried off their
property, he adds to the tera little brass chains of Assamese, or very
rarely Lhota, manufacture, which he loops over his ears. Across his
chest he wears one, or, if he has dragged a stone, two baldricks
(ritsen), which are really glorified strings for supporting the “tail,”
which in turn is an elaboration of the “panji” basket. The Northern
Lhotas wear baldricks bought from the Semas, made of blue cloth
embroidered in scarlet with dog’s hair, and edged with a deep fringe of
scarlet goat’s hair, with a line of yellow orchid stalk at the base of
the fringe. Those worn by the Southern Lhotas lack the fringe and are
usually embroidered with wool bought from the plains. The human hair
“tails” are of two types, one (tsichap) in which the hair falls
straight from the little basket, and the other (tsongotsichap) in which
the hair forms a deep fringe hanging from a piece of wood sticking out
behind with a slight upward curve. In the old days the hair for tails
was obtained from women killed in raids, but this source of supply
being now closed, it is bought from any woman who is willing to sell
her tresses. I am told that one lady can produce two good crops, but
that the third crop is apt to be coarse. A warrior of note may wear
either on his chest or between his shoulders at the back an ornament
called rüho (enemy’s teeth). This consists of a flat piece of wood,
about ten inches long and five inches deep, covered with fine plaited
work of red cane, with a border of cowries and a fringe of scarlet
goat’s hair at the ends and bottom. It is supposed to represent the
head of an enemy, the red cane being the tongue and palate, the cowries
the teeth, and the fringe of red hair the blood pouring out of the
mouth. A man who has dragged a stone may wear between his shoulders at
the back the head of a Great Indian Hornbill, a bird regarded by the
Lhotas as symbolical of wealth. The true Lhota cowrie apron
(phuhorive), which is now being rapidly ousted by the bigger one worn
by Semas and Aos, is about fourteen inches deep and twelve inches
broad, the bottom two-thirds being covered with closely set rows of
cowries. A man who has been first, second, or third spear at the
killing of an enemy may have the plain cloth above the sheet of cowries
ornamented with little crosses of cowries. An old ceremonial apron
preserved as an heirloom by Ovungtheng of the Chorothui clan in
Nungying village is possibly a specimen of the original type of this
garment. The tradition is that the apron in question, which is a square
of red cloth measuring ten inches long by eight inches broad,
ornamented with two little circles flanked by little stars of cowries,
is an exact copy made two generations ago of the original apron worn by
the ancestor of the clan when he came down from the sky. [63] The
original was preserved till the time of Ovungtheng’s grandfather, when
it was destroyed in a fire. To within living memory small round brass
plates (pyabi) with a perforated boss in the centre were worn with
cowrie aprons. Exactly similar plates are worn by Changs and Southern
Sangtams at the present day. These plates were worn not only at dances
and on ceremonial occasions, but also at the ceremony of calling a sick
man’s soul. For dances the Southern Lhotas wear huge, bulging Angami
leggings (chori) of plaited red cane, with a pattern in yellow orchid
stalk worked in them. The Northern Lhotas wear a different type, which
fits much more closely to the leg. These they buy from the Aos, who in
turn get them from the Changs, to whom they are sold by the makers, the
Northern Kalyo-Kengyu.
Weapons.
Easily first in importance is the dao (lepok), which is used for every
variety of purpose. With it a Lhota can slay his enemy or cut up a
chicken, fell a forest tree or pare down the finest strip of cane, dig
a hole for a post or cut a thorn out of his foot. Villages near the
plains usually buy their daos from Assamese smiths. These weapons
consist of a straight-edged blade about twelve inches long, and four
inches broad at the top, narrowing down to an inch or less at the haft,
which is fitted into a bamboo handle tightly bound round with cane.
Like all Naga daos the blade is ground on one side only, so that a
perpendicular stake can only be cut by a downward blow from the right
or upward blow from the left. The daos made by the Northern Lhotas are
practically identical with those bought from the Assamese. Those made
by the Southern Lhotas are far heavier weapons. The blade is about
twelve inches long. At the top it is five inches broad, narrowing down
to one and a half inches at the haft. Both edge and back are slightly
curved and the junction of the edge and top is prolonged into a small
beak.
Two obsolete types of dao require mention. One is the axe-shaped dao
called by the Lhotas tsonak, the use of which is now confined to the
Southern Sangtams and other Trans-Tizu tribes. Lhotas, however, state
quite definitely that they formerly used these daos, and old men say
that when they were young they talked to old men who could remember the
days when a few were still preserved. [64] The other obsolete type is
that known as yanthang. These are supposed to have been brought from
the north-west in the olden days, and a number of them are still kept
as heirlooms. They vary much in shape, but usually have very long,
narrow blades and always terminate in a long haft which must have
passed right through the wooden grip, as it does in the case of the
Kabui dancing dao. These daos are much treasured and are only produced
at “gennas,” when they are stuck upright, haft down, into the ground.
The most famous is that of the hero Ramphan which is preserved at Akuk.
[65]
Daos are carried in a wooden holder (lechap). This, like that of the
Aos and Semas, consists of a solid block of wood some eight inches long
by two and a half inches broad, pierced from top to bottom by a slit
about six inches long and broad enough to admit the blade, but too
narrow to let the handle slip through. The holder is carried at the
back attached to a loose belt (lechapsü), which may be either dark blue
or white, and in the case of a man who has done the head-taking “genna”
is embroidered with red. [66] The dao, of course, hangs blade down, but
whereas all other tribes carry their daos with edge to the left, the
Lhota carries his with the edge to the right.
Next in importance is the spear (otso), which is always thrown, and
never used for thrusting, the extreme effective range being about
thirty yards. The length of the whole weapon is usually about six feet
or rather more. The favourite wood for the shaft is “nahor” (mesna
ferrea), but palm and other woods are also used. The shaft is tightly
fitted into a socket in the head without binding of any kind, and
terminates in a sharp, socketed butt. No counterpoise is used.
Occasionally spears are made of one piece of iron—head, shaft and butt.
These are especially useful in tiger hunting, where the animal is
liable to bite off the shaft of any spear that wounds him. Among the
Northern Lhotas the blades are usually of the elongated lozenge type.
They are both bought from the Aos and made locally. The Southern Lhotas
usually buy Rengma-made blades of the Angami type, which are
leaf-shaped with two short flanges at right-angles to the mid-rib. The
average length of the blade is about ten inches, but on some ceremonial
spears they may be seen up to two feet in length. A big blade with long
barbs such as Angamis sometimes carry (noringtso) is occasionally used
in Moilang and the neighbouring villages. There are several kinds of
decorated shaft. That of the ceremonial spear (phui) carried by
religious officials, such as the Puthi and Wokchungs, is covered
throughout almost the whole of its length with long black goat’s hair.
The doing of the head-taking “genna” entitles a man to carry a spear
the shaft of which is ornamented with scarlet goat’s hair, bound on
with string and then clipped short till it resembles very coarse
velvet. If he has also been in at the death of a tiger there will be
one or two narrow bands of black hair inserted in the scarlet. None of
these red shafts are of Lhota manufacture. The northern section of the
tribe buy theirs from the Aos, who in turn get them from the Changs.
One type, called kamang, is only covered with red pile for about a foot
of its length from the top. In the other type (chovemo) a space for the
hand separates two long pieces of pile, the bottom one of which
terminates in a deep fringe of red hair. The Rengmas supply the
Southern Lhotas with their red shafts. One type, called tandhro,
resembles kamang; another type is very like chovemo, but has no fringe
and is called rophutung.
The cross-bow (olo) is still used for shooting birds and monkeys. The
stock, made of hard wood, is about twenty-seven inches long, with a
groove to keep the arrow in place. When strung the string, which is of
twisted tchhütsang bark, catches in a piece of notched bone inserted in
the stock near the butt. Underneath is a trigger, which on being pulled
tips the string forward and releases it. The bow itself, which is about
five feet long and tapered off at the ends, is usually made of bamboo.
To be strung the bow has to be held on the ground with the foot with
the stock pointing upwards, and the string pulled up to the notch with
both hands. An arrow (lotsi) is then placed in the groove. The arrows
are merely pointed slips of bamboo about a foot and a half long, with a
little bit of “hair-brush palm” (shawo) or bamboo leaf-sheath fixed in
a slit at the end as a feather. They are carried in a small bamboo
quiver (lotsiphu). The weapon is amazingly effective up to about eighty
yards. Poison is never used.
In the old days shields (otsung) were always carried in war and are
still used at tiger and leopard hunts. Usually they are of strong
bamboo twilled pattern matting, but hide shields (tsungkuk) are also
used. Sometimes a piece of buffalo skin is simply cut to the right
shape and dried in the sun, and sometimes a piece of bear skin is
stretched over a bamboo matting foundation. Shields are of two types.
Those of the Northern Lhotas are about four and a half feet long and
twenty inches broad, with a rounded top and parallel sides. Those of
the Southern Lhotas are of about the same length, but have a square top
and are only some fourteen inches across at the bottom, broadening out
to twenty inches at the top. In battle shields were always carried held
well away from the body, for though they were not tough enough to turn
a spear thrown directly at them, they would check any spear which
pierced them sufficiently to prevent it reaching the body.
Stout cane war-helmets (kiven), about six inches high in the crown, are
still worn by the Southern Lhotas as a protection for the head at tiger
hunts, and also at dances, when they are often ornamented with serow
horns. Among the Northern Lhotas only a very few now exist, and these,
gorgeously ornamented, are only worn by Puthis and very senior warriors
at the dance connected with the building of a new “morung.” They are
covered with a coarse cloth made of scarlet dog’s hair, with long
strings of the same material hanging down behind. On the covering are
sown pairs of boar’s tushes, each pair forming a circle, while two long
flat pieces of wild mithan horn, shaved down to the thickness of
cardboard, fixed one on each side complete the effect.
Character.
Writers in the past have, as a rule, either ignored or maligned the
Lhota. Captain Butler speaks of “the surly Lhota,” and Colonel
Shakespear dismisses them as “uninteresting people with dirty persons
and villages.” [67] They are reserved and do not readily open their
hearts to a stranger, but they are not surly. Their sense of humour is
well developed and they are always ready with a laugh, but, like all
Nagas, they hate being laughed at and believe that misfortune or
sickness is likely to fall upon anyone who is the object of derision.
Though the tribe contains a few habitual criminals they are, on the
whole, very honest. Petty theft is rare, and a man can leave his spear
and cloth by the side of a village path knowing that he will find his
property untouched when he comes to pick it up on his way home. In
warfare they were probably no more cowardly than their neighbours, and
when hunting tigers and other dangerous game they show extraordinary
pluck. For an expedition they will supply carriers unequalled for
steadiness and discipline by any other tribe. The standard of morals
varies in a curious way from village to village, but the Lhota husband
does not imitate the habitual unfaithfulness of the Ao, nor does he,
like the Sema, boast of his immoralities and decorate the grave of a
deceased Don Juan with a tally of his liaisons.
Children as they grow up and marry leave their old parents to fend for
themselves in what seems to us rather a heartless way, but at a pinch
they are usually ready to help to support them. In this the Lhota
stands midway between the Konyak, who regards it as one of his chief
duties in life to live with and help his aged parents, and the Ao, who
usually never thinks of supporting his old father or mother, and even
if he does so turns him out at last to end his days in a miserable
little hut, “lest he should defile the house by dying in it.” Towards
animals the Lhota, like all Nagas, adopts a curiously inconsistent
attitude. At times he will punish them cruelly as if expecting them to
understand the difference between right and wrong. For instance, I
heard of a Lhota who climbed a tree after a badly wounded monkey. The
monkey clutched his hair, so he tore it loose and cut its hands off
while it was still alive—“as a punishment,” he said. At other times
animals are treated as if they were incapable of feeling pain. Frogs
are often kept overnight with their legs broken to prevent their
getting away, and old men look back with regret to the good old days
when mithan at a sacrifice were beaten to death with sticks and the
valuable hair of goats and dogs was plucked from the living animals. A
remarkable trait in the Lhota character, wherein they differ from all
other Nagas with whom I am acquainted, is the extraordinary readiness
with which they commit suicide. Often the reason is trivial in the
extreme. I have known a man hang himself because the elders of his
village fined him fifteen rupees—a sum he could well afford to pay.
Usually, however, a love affair is the cause, and cases of lovers, who
for some reason cannot marry, taking poison together are common. Little
though he knows or cares of the details of the life hereafter, the
Lhota never doubts that there is such a life, and lovers die professing
their sure faith that they will be united beyond the grave.
PART II
DOMESTIC LIFE
The Village—The “Morung”—The Head-Tree—The House—The Contents
—Manufactures—Trade—Loans—Agriculture and the Ceremonies
connected with it—Live-stock—Hunting—Fishing—Food—Drink—
Medicine—Drugs—Games—Music.
[Position and defences.] With the exception of those situated on spurs
running down from the great mass of Wokha Hill, a Lhota village is
invariably built on the very top of a ridge. The two essentials of a
site are that it must be easily defensible from a Naga point of view,
and near a spring. Unlike the Sema, the Lhota rarely calls a village
after its founder. An almost unique example is Mangya, which is said to
have been founded by Mangyasang. More usually some peculiarity of the
site, or incident connected with the village, gives it its name. Seleku
is so called because many flying squirrels (selek) were found when the
site was cleared. Niroyo is the place of a plant with red berries
called niro. Lungsa (olung = stone, osa = platform) is so called from a
flat-topped rock near the eastern entrance of the village. Okotso is
said to mean the place where the pigs of Pangti were eaten by tigers
(woko = pig, tso = eat). Villages captured by the Lhotas from the Aos,
such as Yimbang, Akuk, Mekula, still retain their Ao names only
slightly corrupted. Often a village retains the name of its parent
village, with Yanthamo (“new village”) added, e.g. Are Yanthamo. To
defend his village the Lhota used neither masonry walls like the
Angami, nor hedges of living cane like the Konyak. The outer defence
was a ditch cut across the ridge in a conveniently narrow place. The
bottom and edge of this were studded with “panjis,” and it was crossed
by a rough-hewn plank which was taken up at night, or in case of
attack. The inner defence was a stout fence of sticks and bamboos, also
bristling with “panjis.” This was carried right round the village
except in places where the steepness of the ground gave adequate
protection of itself. The door was of bamboo, studded with “panjis.” A
few sticks are still stuck up along the line of the old fence every
year at the Pikuchak “genna,” and whenever the village performs the
Oyantsoa “genna.” Huge trees stand at the entrance to most Lhota
villages. These were preserved to form a wind-screen for the village
and to provide convenient look-out posts for sentries. War between
Lhota villages was rare, and a powerful village surrounded by friends
would regard defences as unnecessary. Similarly nowadays Tuensang, the
most powerful village of the Changs, has no village fence. It is
situated in the middle of a circle of friendly Chang villages. The
warriors of Tuensang emerge from the circle to smite their foes, and
then retire behind their friends again. Woe betide the friend who is so
remiss as to let a party of avenging enemies into the circle.
A Lhota village is as a rule built along a ridge and has a main
entrance at either end, with smaller paths running down to the fields
from the sides of the village, and may contain anything from a dozen to
350 houses. The entrance to the World of the Dead being on Wokha Hill,
the spirits of the dead must leave the village in that direction. The
path leading towards Wokha Hill is accordingly known as etchhilan
(“dead man’s road”). It is a curious sight, flanked with offerings to
the dead (sochipen) and bamboo erections (nritangpeng) showing the
prowess in war and hunting of those recently deceased.
[Communication.] From village to village there are narrow permanent
paths along which men can only go in single file. As far as possible
they keep along the very top of the ranges, for in the old days to use
a path running under the shoulder of a hill would have been to risk
having a spear thrown at you from above. Where the rock is soft
sandstone, as it is near Tsori, toe-holes are cut in very steep
ascents. Where the rock is hard a notched pole helps the traveller up
the bad places. Small streams and ditches are bridged either by a
single big tree or half a dozen stout poles laid side by side. Across
broader streams, such as the Chebi, cane bridges are constructed. Long
pieces of cane are stretched across from convenient trees on either
bank. Between these a V-shaped cradle of cane is constructed, on which
are laid long bamboos to form a foot-way. Long cane tie-ropes up and
down stream prevent the bridge from swinging. The far-seeing Lhota
often plants young trees of a suitable kind near the bridge-head trees
to provide substitutes in case the old trees are washed away or die.
[The village.] A village usually consists of one long street with a
line of houses on each side facing inwards. In the middle of the street
are the “genna” stones standing opposite the houses of their owners.
The somewhat limited space is further crowded with old fallen “genna”
stones, graves and stacks of firewood. The villages are swarming with
pigs, dogs and cattle, and the state of the street in wet weather can
be better imagined than described, though some attempt is made to keep
the actual doorways of the houses clean by scraping away the filth with
shovels (mirothenga) made of the shoulder-blades of cattle or mithan.
Sanitary arrangements are non-existent. Pigs and dogs do the necessary
scavenging in the jungle surrounding the village. In every village one
piece of jungle is strictly reserved for men and another for women. Not
all villages consist of one long street. At places such as Yekhum,
where the ground slopes awkwardly, the houses are built according to
the lie of the land and are in broken lines. Similarly at Pangti, which
is on a fairly broad, level site, there are several rather badly
defined streets and the houses face in all directions.
Unlike the Angamis, the Lhotas do not keep their rice in their houses
but in little thatched granaries (osung) of bamboo which are raised on
posts above the ground and stand in neat little groups just outside the
village. By this arrangement the food supply is generally saved even if
the village be burnt. It is absolutely forbidden to spread clothes to
dry on the roof of a granary. To do so would cause all the rice to go
bad.
[The “Morung.”] Every village, except the very small ones, is divided
into two or more “khels” (yankho). Sometimes, but by no means always, a
little strip of open ground marks the division between “khel” and
“khel.” In some villages these “khels” mark the divisions of clans. For
instance, at Tsingaki there are two Kikung “khels” and one Nguli
“khel.” But this is not common. Usually a “khel” appears to be nothing
more than a convenient division of a village in which men of various
clans live. Sometimes some feature of the site gives the “khel” its
name, e.g. Hayili (“level”) khel in Akuk. Sometimes, as in the
Wokhayankho (“Wokha men’s khel”) in Pangti, the first inhabitants have
given a name to the “khel.” Usually a man lives and dies in the “khel”
in which his forefathers lived and died before him. But he is perfectly
free to go to another “khel” if he wants to. In every “khel” there is a
common bachelors’ house or “morung” (champo), [68] a building which
plays an important part in Lhota life. In it no woman must set her
foot. At the champo raids were planned and discussed, and to it all
heads taken were first brought. It is the sleeping-place of every Lhota
boy from the time he first puts on his dao-holder till he marries, this
rule being only relaxed in the case of boys who are allowed to remain
at home and nurse an ailing and widowed mother, or when the champo
falls into such a state of disrepair that it is no longer habitable. In
the latter case boys are allowed to sleep in a separate room in their
parents’ house. The champo usually stands at the end of, and facing
down, the village street. Though not to be compared with the huge
“morungs” of the Aos and Konyaks, it is the best architectural effort
of which the Lhota is capable. In length a typical champo extends to
forty feet, with a breadth of fifteen feet at the front and twelve feet
at the back. The roof-tree is low in the middle, and curves up to
gables at the front and back, that at the front being about sixteen
feet high and that at the back a foot or so lower. Two specially fine
bamboos are selected for the roof-tree. Part of the root is left on
them and forms a horn-like projection at each end of the roof-tree. To
each horn is fixed a little cross-piece, from which are hung
tassel-like ornaments of reed-stem. The house is thatched with either
thatching grass or the leaf of a small palm called oko (Levistonia
assamica). The eaves reach almost to the ground and are brought forward
in a half-circle in front to form a sort of verandah roof. In the
middle of the space covered by this verandah roof stands the front post
(humtse), which is elaborately carved with conventional representations
of mithan heads and hornbills, and is carried through the roof up to
the high gable. Behind it is another carved post (humtse tachungo). At
the base of this post are the oha stones on which the good fortune of
the champo depends, and to it used to be fastened a piece of skin from
the first head taken after a new champo was built. This piece of skin
is called humtse lama (“post warmer”). It was believed that it brought
strength to the post and luck to the village. So strong was and is this
belief, that as late as 1913 Tsingaki was punished for buying a piece
of a head to be used as humtse lama from the independent Sema village
of Satami. [69] At the back of the champo is another carved post.
The interior of a champo is not attractive. It is dark, dirty, smoky,
stuffy and full of fleas. Yet a Lhota talks of his happy champo-days
much as an Englishman talks of his schooldays. The floor is sometimes
levelled earth and sometimes a bamboo platform raised about two feet
above the ground on posts. The walls are of bamboo. There is a door at
each end and a passage about two feet wide down the middle, in which
fires are lit on cold nights, the smoke finding its way out as best it
can in the absence of chimneys or windows. Where the floor is of bamboo
four logs are laid down to form a square, the interior of which is
filled in with earth rammed firmly down. On this the fire is made. On
either side of the passage are cubicles with bamboo partitions, along
the sides of which are sleeping benches of rough-hewn planks, or bamboo
“machans.”
The time varies in different villages, but a champo is generally
rebuilt every nine years. Almost invariably it falls in ruins before
the time is up, but on no account must it be rebuilt till the due
period has elapsed. The ceremonies connected with the rebuilding are
interesting. The Puthi having announced that the rebuilding will take
place in so many days, the boys of the champo collect bamboos,
thatching grass, posts, tying-bark and whatever is needed. If a new
carved post is required the best carver in the village gets to work on
it. Every champo has land belonging to it. With the rice from this land
a pig and a big cow are bought. These are killed on the day before the
work of rebuilding is begun, and the carcases kept in a little hut
specially built by the side of the champo. Next day is the first of
five days’ emung, [70] which must be kept by the whole village. During
these days no one may work in the fields, or weave cloth or make pots
or bring into the village meat from a tiger’s kill. If a stranger
enters the village he will probably be ill, and he cannot leave it till
the five days’ emung are over. On this day the ceremonies begin. The
Puthi formally begins the breaking down of the old champo, by pulling a
piece of thatch off the roof and throwing it onto the ground. The
Puthi’s attendant (Yenga) then removes the oha stones from in front of
the humtse tachungo and lays them down a little distance from the
champo. The roof is next carefully cut in two lengthways and laid on
the ground in such a way that the two halves lean up against one
another and form a shelter. Under this the boys of the champo must
sleep that night. The posts are pulled out and laid on the ground, the
whole building is dismantled and the site cleaned and re-levelled. The
work of rebuilding is then begun. This again the Puthi initiates by a
formal act. Beginning with the humtse tachungo he digs a little hole
with the butt of his spear at the places where the three carved posts
are to be set up, and pours or spits a little “rohi madhu” into each
hole. The posts are then put up, new ones being substituted for any
which may have decayed, and the champo is rebuilt as quickly as
possible. Before leaving the work for the night the Puthi places a
little ginger sprinkled with “madhu” on two crossed leaves at the foot
of the humtse tachungo in order to keep away evil spirits, to whom
ginger is particularly obnoxious. Thatching alone is left till next
day, which is a day of less work and more play. Everyone feasts and
puts on his best clothes, the men wearing full dancing dress. The first
bunch of thatch having been put in place by the Puthi, the braves of
the village dance, some on the ground and some on the roof of the
“morung,” all singing the pangashari, a slow chant in which the
war-like deeds of the village in the past are recounted. This song goes
on all the time the thatch is being put on. A similar dance on the roof
is performed by the Konyaks of Namsang and Tamlu when a “morung” is
rebuilt. The thatching being finished the oha stones are replaced by
the Yenga at the foot of the humtse tachungo. All the men, led by the
Puthi, then slowly dance in a rough column of fours formation round the
village, ho-hoing as they go. The chant is called yanungshari. The
carcases of the pig and cow are taken out of the little hut in which
they have been kept and cut up and distributed to all males, the Puthi
receiving as his share half the head of the cow split longitudinally. A
feature of this, the second day of the ceremonies, is the dog-killing
which takes place. Every champo in the village kills a small dog. That
belonging to the champo which is being rebuilt is carefully fattened up
beforehand and tied up in front of the Puthi’s house. When the time
comes to kill this dog an admiring throng gathers round while the
oldest man of the “khel” sits by the dog and gives it a bone to keep it
quiet. He then covers it with his cloth. Opposite to him stands the man
reputed to be the finest warrior in the “khel,” and the following
dialogue takes place. Warrior: “Move away.” Old man: “Will you take
care?” Warrior: “I will take care.” Old man: “Do not hurt the dog.”
Warrior: “I will kill it quickly.” At these words the old man uncovers
the dog and moves aside. The warrior then attempts to split its skull
exactly in two with one blow of his dao. When the dog falls about a
dozen bucks and boys dance round and round it chanting, “He has killed
it, he has killed it.” The head is cut off and brought to the champo,
where it is carefully examined to see if it has been well and truly
split. If the blow is found to have been a crooked one, the man who
killed it is laughed at, told he is no warrior, but a boaster and a
wind-bag. The head is then thrown away by the old man who attended at
the killing. [71] In the evening a mock fight takes place between the
young men and women of the village, both married and unmarried. The
women pretend to try to push their way into the champo, while the young
men keep them out. This mock fight is believed to increase the
fertility of the women who take part in it. On the third day the slow
dance round the village is repeated while the yanungshari is again
sung. Most of the day is spent in feasting and drinking. On the fourth
day the dance and chant are again repeated, but very few men put in an
appearance, presumably because most of them have bad headaches after
two days’ heavy drinking. The chief performers are a few hard-headed
bucks and irrepressible small boys. On the fifth day, the last emung
day, everyone rests.
[The Head-tree.] Perhaps the most conspicuous object in a Lhota village
is the head-tree, mingetung, generally a magnificent specimen of
ningetung (a tree of the Ficus family). It is usually situated on a
mound well in the middle of the village. Against its branches were
leant the long bamboos from which were hung the heads of enemies taken
in war, and at its roots are kept the mysterious oha stones. These are
counted and a fence is put round the tree whenever the oyantsoa “genna”
is performed. The fortune of the village is regarded as in a way
dependent on the mingetung. So sacred is it that in some villages it
cannot be photographed. To break a twig off it would entail the
performance of the oyantsoa “genna” (village renewing “genna”), which
must also be performed if the mingetung dies or a branch falls. The
place of the mingetung can never be changed. That at Lungla has been
blown down. A small tree close by is being used instead till a new
mingetung can be induced to grow on the old site, a vain hope, as the
old site is a mound of shale without so much as a blade of grass on it.
When a new village is founded a site is always selected on which there
is a tree suitable for use as a mingetung. Under the new tree must be
put a twig stolen from the mingetung of the parent village, though the
parent village makes every effort to prevent this theft, as it entails
the performance of the oyantsoa “genna” and is very likely to bring bad
luck to the parent village. A curious belief is prevalent in Phiro.
Skulls which had fallen from their strings were often picked up and
jammed into interstices in the bole of the head-tree. At Phiro the
mingetung is growing round and gradually covering these old skulls.
This is regarded as a sign that the days of head-hunting are gone,
never to return. [72]
[Water supply.] Springs issuing from the side of the hill below the
village supply Lhotas with their water. Sometimes it is drawn from a
muddy pool of unappetizing greenish water, but often there is a good
flow into a basin dammed up with rough masonry. Small fish have been
put into the Niroyo basin, and are carefully preserved in order that
they may keep the water clear of scum. At almost all springs there is a
small dam, and over it a low fence so that women who draw water stand
below and not in the supply from which they draw. Unlike the Ao, the
Lhota does not fancy water after the village have washed their feet in
it. When the path from the fields does not happen to pass near a
stream, water is often led to it in bamboo pipes from a long distance
in order that men coming up after the day’s work may have a drink and a
wash.
The Lhota House.
[Description.] A Lhota house varies in size from the wretched hovel of
some old widow to the house of a rich man which may measure thirty feet
long by eighteen feet broad—a limit far exceeded, however, by Aos,
Semas and Angamis. To build a fine house as a show of wealth a Lhota
would regard as great waste of money, and a Lhota likes to waste
nothing. The walls are of bamboo and the roof of thatch (lishu) or
palm-leaf (oko, Levistonia assamica). The front of all but the poorest
houses is semicircular, with a door in the middle of the semicircle.
The roof of the front semicircular room (mpongki) slopes up to the roof
of the main building like the roof of the semicircular apse of a
church. The upper roof-tree of the main building is carried forward
over the roof of the mpongki with a slight upward slope, and is
decorated with a little mock roof of thatch forming a sort of flying
gable. In the middle of the mpongki is a bamboo post, which is carried
through the roof of the apse to meet the projecting roof-tree of the
main building. The interior of a Lhota house strikes a stranger as very
cramped and uncomfortable. Unless one is very careful one bumps one’s
head at every step. There is none of the spaciousness which one notices
in the house of a rich Sema or Ao. Where the ground is suitable and
bamboos are plentiful there is a machan (khantsung) for sitting out at
the back. Sometimes the whole floor of the house is simply levelled
earth, as in a Sema or Angami house. More usually, however, a step made
of a short, thick log leads up from the mpongki to the doorway of the
main building, the floor of which is raised above the ground on short
posts and made of stout bamboo matting on a framework of whole bamboos,
the matting in turn being covered with a layer of beaten earth to keep
the draught from coming up from below. The floor of the sitting-out
platform at the back is of bamboo without any covering of earth. The
pattern of the floor of this platform varies according to whether the
owner of the house has or has not dragged a stone. In the former case a
mat of split bamboos interlaced in a simple chequer pattern is laid
over a foundation of whole bamboos laid at right angles to the back
wall of the house. In the latter case the place of the mat is taken by
split bamboos laid at right angles to the bamboo foundation.
In a Lhota household each wife has a separate sleeping cubicle with a
fireplace (nchü) in the middle. A well-to-do Lhota usually possesses
three wives. The main building of his house therefore contains three
sleeping cubicles and a little store-room (bhuritheng) at the back. The
cubicle nearest the mpongki is called lhuhrui and is occupied by the
third wife. The middle one is called olungo and is the abode of the
chief wife. The back cubicle is called tachungo and is used by the
second wife. Daughters sleep with their mother or, if she is dead, with
the step-mother they like best. Servants, if there be any, or a
bridegroom working for his bride in his father-in-law’s house sleep in
the mpongki, either on mats on the floor or on the pounding bench.
Guests sleep on mats on the floor of the store-room or in one of the
cubicles.
A step up from the mpongki and a door close to the wall (usually the
right-hand wall) lead into a narrow passage running the whole length of
the house onto the platform at the back. On the left, assuming the
passage to be on the right of the house, are the cubicles, the
partitions of which stretch about two-thirds across the house, and up
to the beams (khokang), the partitions between the mpongki and the
first cubicle, and between the store-room and the sitting-out platform,
going right up to the roof. The roof is supported on centre-posts
(tirhupu), a bamboo one being placed in the middle of the mpongki, and
a roughly-squared wooden one at each partition, and corner-posts
(okinge) at the corners of the main building. Small posts in the walls
help to support rafters (khirong). There is no chimney and the smoke
finds its way out as best it can. The cubicles are lighted only by
their fires.
[Construction.] When a Lhota builds a house he sets about it as
follows. After the harvest is in he chooses a site and touches the
ground with his hand. Then he goes off to a dreamer (hahang), of whom
there are two or three in every village, with a small present of food,
and asks him to dream that night and tell him in the morning if the
site will be a lucky one. Dreams of springs, gourds, cucumbers, leaves,
daos and spears, among other things, are good. To dream of digging,
hair dyed scarlet and black thread forebodes death. If the dreamer has
a vision of frogs, crabs, or tortoises the man who builds a house on
the site which is being tested will be ill. If the dreamer reports
visions of good omen (and he generally does, for a seer of evil dreams
does not keep his clients long) the builder of the house calls his
friends and relations together and work is begun. The positions of the
corner-posts are first marked out, the length and breadth and diagonals
being carefully measured. These posts are then put in, and after them
the centre-posts and side-posts of the walls. If the house is to have a
raised bamboo floor this is now made. Long bamboos or poles are then
laid along the top of the side-posts of the walls, which are notched to
receive them, and tied in position with yhandra bark. This bark is
taken from the tree in long strips and dried in the sun for some days.
The strips are twisted and wetted when required for use. On the top of
the skeleton wall thus made are laid and tied bamboo cross-beams in
pairs, each pair enclosing one of the wooden centre-posts, to which it
is firmly tied. There is no cross-beam across the mpongki. The tops of
the wooden centre-posts are then notched and a bamboo roof-tree
(mhongki) is put in place. This stretches out far in front of the main
building. At its junction with the centre-post standing between the
mpongki and the first cubicle it is broken half through and carefully
bent down, for the projecting end of it will eventually form the centre
rafter of the semicircular roof of the mpongki. The rafters (khirong)
are then put on. To enable them to be tied they must necessarily
project and form a series of forks along the top of the roof-tree. On
these forks is laid another roof-tree, which is not bent down like the
first, but projects right out above the mpongki and is supported by the
bamboo centre-post. Further to strengthen the rafters and prevent them
lifting in a high wind, two other roof-trees are placed in position in
the side forks on either side of the main roof-trees. These side
roof-trees project beyond the main building and are bent down like the
under one to form rafters for the mpongki. Partitions inside the house
are now built and purlins (sütesüyo) are put on, all being so bent as
to form purlins for the mpongki. The bottom pair of purlins are so made
that the projecting ends can be bent to meet and be tied. This gives
the outline of the semicircular apse of the mpongki. Posts are put in
to which the bottom pair of purlins are tied in position. The
projecting ends of roof-trees and other purlins are then brought down
and tied to it, and the framework of the house is complete. Chequer
pattern bamboo walls are quickly put up and the thatching is begun.
Sections of thatching about six feet long are prepared as follows by
men on the ground, and handed up to men on the roof, who put them in
position. Thatch is carefully bent double over a thin bamboo about six
feet long, care being taken to see that it forms a fringe without gaps.
Then to keep the thatch in place two more bamboos of the same size and
length are placed on either side of it about five inches below the
first bamboo. These are firmly tied together through the thatch with
strips of bamboo. With palm leaves the top bamboo is omitted, a fringe
of overlapping palm leaves being held in place by the two thin bamboos,
one on either side. These fringes are then tied on to the rafters and
purlins, beginning at the eaves and working upwards so that each fringe
overlaps the one below it. Finally, thatch is doubled over the upper
roof-tree and fastened down with two long bamboo wind-ties. This last
layer of thatch extends to the end of the upper roof-tree, forming a
sort of flying gable where it projects over the mpongki. Light bamboo
doors are then made. These are not attached to the door-posts in any
way and can be lifted and laid aside. Two crossed bamboos are attached
to the door by a loop of bark string and jammed behind the door-posts
to keep it in place. A man who has dragged a stone more than once can
decorate his roof with crossed bamboos representing mithan horns, but
this is considered rather a snobbish display of wealth and the
privilege is rarely taken advantage of. In some Southern Lhota villages
the Puthis’ houses have the roof decorated with crossed bamboos of
which the ends are split and splayed apart. This is a conventional
representation of human hands, and the right to have the roofs of their
houses ornamented in this way was formerly confined to men who had
succeeded in bringing the fingers or toes of an enemy home from a raid.
Rich Aos decorate their roofs in a similar way.
Before such a house can be occupied lurking evil spirits must of course
be dealt with. For this the oldest of the men who helped to build the
house is called in to act as tsandhramo epang (“driver away of evil
spirits”). Having mixed ginger and “rohi madhu” in a new “chunga,” he
sprinkles the inside of the house with the concoction and says, “We are
going to stay here. You go away.” He then throws away the “chunga,”
which must never be used for anything else. The old man then marks out
the places for the hearth-stones, which the owner places in position.
The owner then either lights a fire with a fire-stick or fetches fire
from another house—any house will do. Matches are never used by Lhotas
for ceremonial fire-making. A meal is now cooked and partaken of by the
owner and his household and friends and the old man, who then takes the
omens. He holds in his hands a small chicken called kichakro, which
each member of the household touches with his or her left hand. This he
strangles and disembowels, taking the omens from the entrails. After
which he cuts it up and, holding eight pieces of meat in each hand,
takes his seat with the male members of the household on his right and
the female members on his left, and swings his hands backwards and
forwards four times with an underhand bowling action, counting the
number of swings aloud. The chicken is the old man’s fee, and he takes
it away, returning in the morning to report whether he has had dreams
of good or evil omen. A man may not act as tsandhramo epang for more
than one household on the same day. The only restriction placed on
occupants of a new house is one forbidding them to allow men from
another village to enter the house till the earth which has been put on
the bamboo floor is dry. A house of which the floor is mother earth may
be entered by strangers as soon as the above ceremony has been
performed.
[The contents of the house.] In the front room of the Lhota house are
kept heavy articles, such as the pounding table (tsampo), liquor vat
(ochen), and pigs’ feeding trough (wokochakpfu), the last being merely
a log split in two and roughly hollowed. The pounding table is hewn
from one piece of wood. In the top, which is slightly concave, one, two
or three holes about six inches in diameter are burnt. In these the
rice is pounded with heavy poles—an arduous occupation at which the
daughters of the house spend a good deal of their time. The liquor vat
consists of a log hollowed out from one end. Trees for this are
carefully chosen, but a very large proportion of vats split or spring a
leak before they are finished. On the wall of the front room are hung
the feet of game which the owner of the house has killed. Spears are
always kept stuck in the ground in front of the big wooden post. Along
the sides of the inner cubicles are the small plank beds of the
household. According to Lhota ideas a single thickness of cloth spread
on the bed makes quite a soft enough mattress. Round the fire are
little wooden stools about six inches high cut from one piece of wood.
Floor space being limited in a Lhota house, most things are kept on
rough bamboo shelves (theka) fixed to the beams of the house. Here are
kept bundles of salt wrapped in leaves, cooking pots, baskets of yeast,
traps, carrying baskets, and a thousand and one things. For cooking
rice and meat Naga-made earthen pots are generally used, but for
heating “madhu” shallow iron pots from the plains are popular. In them
the brew can be stirred easily and without risk of an upset. Lhota
houses contain very few drinking cups. Villages on the Sema border
obtain bamboo cups from their neighbours, and nowadays cheap German
enamel and aluminium ware are often used. But the true Lhota cup is a
folded plantain leaf. It is really an astonishing sight to watch one’s
hostess fold a piece of plantain leaf into a cup with one hand, while
she talks hard to one guest and pours out “madhu” for another, either
from a gourd or, more commonly, an old beer bottle. The usual type of
dish is a shallow wooden one, with no legs, called opyi, many of which
are made in Lungsa. Some households also use a wooden dish on a raised
stand, rather like a dessert dish, called pyikhyu. In the bamboo
matting of the walls are stuck daos, bamboo spoons and many odds and
ends. The hollow bamboos in which water is carried up from the spring
are kept leaning against the walls. Over the fire is suspended a bamboo
platform about five feet square. This prevents sparks flying up to the
roof and also serves as a convenient place on which to dry meat, and
keep such pots and spoons and things as are in continual use. The
little store-room at the back is comparatively free from smoke and in
it ceremonial ornaments and spare cloths are hung.
Manufactures.
[Spinning.] Spinning, like dyeing and weaving, is performed entirely by
women, and every Lhota woman is expected to weave the cloths of her
husband and family. The thread is spun as follows. Home-grown
cotton—the Lhotas are great cotton-growers—is cleaned of its seeds by
being rolled on a flat stone with a small stick, used like a
rolling-pin. This cleaning is a tedious process which generally falls
to the lot of the old widows of the village, who eke out a scanty
livelihood thereby. The cleaned cotton after being fluffed out by being
flicked with the string of an instrument (loko) like a miniature bow is
then gently rolled between the hands into “sausages” about nine inches
long, after which it is ready to be spun into thread. The Lhota spindle
(humtsi) is a very primitive affair and is similar to that of the Aos,
Semas and Angamis. It consists of a thin penholder-shaped stick of hard
wood about eight inches long, tapering to a fine point at the top, and
about the thickness of a pencil at the thickest point near the bottom.
Just above the thickest point is fixed a whorl made of soft black
stone. This is made by rubbing on other stones till it is flat and
round a piece of the soft stone used for the purpose. To make the hole
in the middle a man holds it between his toes and twiddles a spear on
it between his hands till the iron butt of the spear goes through. For
spinning the tip of the spindle is wetted with the tongue. The spindle
is then spun clock-wise with the right hand against the outside of the
right thigh, the base of the spindle being kept in bounds by a
conveniently cup-shaped piece of broken pottery covered with a bit of
rag. The “sausage” of cotton is held in the left hand, and the end of
it laid against the wetted tip of the spindle till it catches and the
thread (oying) begins to form. When about a yard has been spun it is
unwound from the tip of the spindle and rewound just above the stone
whorl. The spindle is then worked as before, the cotton being held in
the left hand, and thread accumulates above the whorl till the spindle
becomes full, when it is wound off onto a wooden frame (kukung), shaped
like a double T, and another spindleful is begun, and so on till the
kukung is full. The thread is next hardened by being steeped for about
five minutes in hot rice-water, after which the skeins (yingsak) are
strung on a stick (phutsi) to dry. It is forbidden for a man to eat the
boiled rice from which this rice-water has been taken. When the thread
is required for weaving it is wound into a ball (yingtso), the woman
who is sitting winding keeping the skein stretched round her knees.
[Dyeing.] Three colours, red, dark blue and light blue, are used by the
Lhotas. Red thread is generally bought either from a shop or from an Ao
village, for red dyeing is considered a risky occupation likely to
bring on dysentery, and therefore only suitable for old women, who are
of no value to the community. The industry, however, is carried on in a
few Lhota villages, such as Changsü and Okotso. To make red dye the
root of Rubia sikkimensis (karung) is pounded up, and another leaf
(’ntawo) is pounded and added. The mixture is then boiled with water,
and the thread put in while the water is boiling. The pot is then
lifted off the fire and allowed to stand for three days, when the
thread is taken out and dried.
Dark blue dye is made from the leaves of Strobilanthes flaccidi-folius
(tchemo), pounded up and boiled with water. The thread is steeped in
the mixture for half an hour and is then dried. This gives a colour
like navy blue. To make light blue the leaves which have been already
boiled and used for making dark blue dye are drained and dried and kept
for a year. They are then broken up fine and mixed with cold water and
the white ash of burnt bark, and put to stand till next day, when the
thread is put in and left there for a day, or for two days if the dye
is weak. It is then taken out and dried.
Dyeing is exclusively performed by women, who when they are so occupied
must refrain from sexual intercourse and must not eat beef, goat’s
flesh, dog’s flesh, dried fish, or that horrible vegetable known in
Naga-Assamese as “stinking dal” (nyingtyingtsing), in fact any food
with a strong smell. If any man were to dye a piece of thread he would
never again have any luck in fishing or hunting. No one but the dyer
must look on while thread is being dyed or the colour will be patchy
and bad.
[Weaving.] Like the Semas and Aos, the Lhotas use a simple
single-heddle tension loom (tsirochunglung) which is set up and
operated as follows. A beam (tsikam) of bamboo about three feet long is
securely fastened to the wall of the house or any other suitable firm
support in a horizontal position and at a height of about two feet from
the ground. On this are slipped two loops (tsisü) of bark string, in
which is put the other bar (ncho) of the loom. The loops are set at a
distance apart equal to the breadth of the piece of cloth to be woven.
The lower bar (ncho) is notched at either end, to enable the weaving
belt (ephi) to be attached to it. This belt is of woven cane or bamboo
and is worn by the operator in the small of her back. By it, as she
sits in front of the loom, she can keep the necessary tension on the
warp. Both the beams being in position and a strain having been taken
on the tsisü, each tsisü is crossed by the lower string being pulled up
and the upper down and a thin stick of bamboo (yingyi) is put in
position. This is naturally held firmly in place by the downward
pressure of the lower strings and the upward pressure of the upper.
Then, working towards the weaver, the lease-rod (chunglung) is put in
close to the yingyi without crossing the strings. Below the lease-rod
the sword (tsitam) is inserted, the strings being crossed as in the
case of the yingyi. The twine which is to form the heddle-loops (ena)
is now tied loosely onto the left end of the sword and laid along it.
This twine is sometimes thick cotton thread and is sometimes made from
the twisted bark of a creeper called enazü (Pineraria Thungbergiana).
Two balls of thread are then taken and their loose ends twisted
together and joined. One ball is held in the lap of the weaver while
the other is passed over the ncho, under the tsitam and the ena which
is lying along it, over the chunglung and under and then round over and
under the yingyi and then over the tsikam, from whence it is brought
straight back to the weaver under the loom. The second ball is then
passed under the ncho and over the ena and under the tsitam and
chunglung, and under and back over and under the yingyi and over the
tsikam, and is brought back to the weaver under the loom. The process
is repeated till all the warp (elomo) has been set. The result is that
the ena forms a series of heddle-loops and the yingyi (the object of
which is to shorten the upper side of the shed made by the lease-rod)
is entirely encircled by each warp. Unless the loom be a very small one
the weaver cannot reach the tsikam. She therefore generally has an
assistant, who can be a man, to pass the warp thread over and under the
tsikam. The two ends of the warp thread, when all has been set are
turned back across the warp and woven into the material. The shuttle
(yingshü), which is simply a thin piece of bamboo, is filled from the
ball by being spun against the right thigh. This process and that of
setting the warp are the only two in which a man may take part. Before
weaving can begin the tsitam, a flat piece of hard wood, is turned on
edge and the heddle (natyung) is slipped in alongside it so as to take
up the heddle-loops formed by the ena. The tsitam is then removed. The
object of substituting the sword for the heddle while the warp is being
set is to ensure big enough heddle-loops. The tsisü are then removed,
and the lease-rod is moved down close to the heddle thus giving the
warp enough strain to keep the latter in place. In weaving the shuttle
is shot backwards and forwards by hand, the heddle being raised every
alternate pick. To increase the shed the sword is put in for each pick
and turned edgeways. For the check pattern so common in women’s
body-cloths both warp and weft (mpyo) are changed. For ornamentation
little bits of red wool or yellow thread bought from a shop are worked
in by hand as the weaving progresses, the warp being manipulated with a
porcupine quill. Ordinarily the first weft-element passes alternately
over and under a single warp-element, the second passing over those
under which the first passed. A variety of pattern is that in which a
single weft element passes alternately under and over pairs of warp
elements. Another variety is that in which a single weft element passes
under and over alternate pairs of warp elements and is returned under
those under which it passed before, giving a pattern of interwoven
pairs of warp and weft elements. Four pieces of cloth about one foot
broad by five feet long go to make an ordinary man’s cloth. These
strips are sewn together along their long sides. The Lhota needle
(otyam) is simply a piece of bamboo sharpened at one end. To the head
is attached by wax a piece of thread about two inches long known as
otyam emhi (“needle-tail”) onto which the thread used for sewing is
twisted. The broad stripes of light blue seen in so many Lhota cloths
are invariably separate strips, sewn between two of the main strips of
the cloth. A woman in the old days was forbidden to weave while her
husband was absent on a raid, as it might cause him to trip over
creepers in the jungle and fall into the hands of the enemy.
[Pottery.] Though foreign articles are being used more and more Lhotas
still make most of their own pots. They are round, and slightly
contracted at the top, with a curved rim by which they can be lifted
off the fire. The only ornamentation used is a string pattern which is
applied by patting the pot while still wet with a flat piece of wood
covered with coarse string binding (khuzü). The clay is obtained from
the banks of small streams. Two kinds are used, grey (linyikcho), which
is the best, and red (linyocho), which is not so good. Only women can
make pots, but the industry is not restricted to old women. The clay is
broken up and kneaded on a stone with a little water. After being left
over-night it is again moistened and kneaded. A round base is first
made by hand. A wall of clay is built onto this and kneaded well onto
the base with the left hand, the wall being supported on the outside by
a small stick (phutamphen) held in the right hand. The pot is then
shaped with the left hand and stick, and put to dry in the sun while
other pots are being made.
After the pots have been dried in the house for three or four days a
rough platform of wood is built on the ground outside the village. On
this the pots are laid upside down and twigs and rubbish and rice straw
piled on them and fired. In this kiln the pots are left till next
morning, when they must be taken away before dawn. Certain precautions
have to be observed. The woman making the pots must refrain from sexual
intercourse, and must not eat any strong-smelling food, such as beef,
goat’s flesh, dog’s flesh, dried fish or “stinking dal,” while she is
so engaged, for to eat these things would cause the pots to “ring”
badly. Anyone may watch the clay being kneaded, but no one must look on
while the pot is being shaped, and only those helping the woman by
carrying the pots or collecting fuel may be present at the burning.
Were a man to see the pots being fired they would all crack. Nor must
any dog come near, for should so much as a single hair of a dog touch a
pot before it is finished the pot would have a hole at that very place.
[Iron-work.] The trade of a blacksmith is regarded by the Lhotas as a
very unlucky one, and is restricted to the families members of which
have been blacksmiths in the past. It is believed that no blacksmith
lives long after he stops work. It is therefore not surprising that
Lhota blacksmiths are few and far between. Nor is there much need for
them. Villages near the plains buy all they require from Assamese
smiths. The Rengmas are great blacksmiths and make all the weapons and
implements required by the Southern Lhotas of the inner ranges, while
the Northern Lhotas are supplied in a similar way by the Aos. The few
Lhota blacksmiths there are use foreign tools bought from the plains,
though an indigenous type of bellows (yongphophen) is still in use in
places. This consists of two sections of bamboo set up perpendicularly
side by side in a clay base. Into each of these is fitted a piston
bound all over with hen’s feathers with their thin ends down. The
downward stroke of the piston being against the “grain” of the feathers
and the upward stroke with the “grain,” quite an efficient valvular
action results. These pistons are worked alternately by an assistant
who holds one in each hand. At the bottom of each piston-case is a
hole, to which is attached a bamboo tube (zendro). These tubes emerge
together at the fire. Only soft iron is used. This is obtained from the
plains in the form of old tea-garden hoes. Formerly iron is said to
have been found and worked at Khoro Ghat on the edge of the plains, by
a village of the Thangwe clan according to one tradition, or by Shans
or Burmese according to another. [73] The finished article is tempered
by being dipped in water. This tempering is not meant to be final. The
purchaser after using the dao, or whatever the article may be, for a
time, heats it in a fire of the slow-burning bark of a certain tree
(lepokriphu) and tempers it in salt and water, or bamboo-pickle and
water to his taste.
So impregnated with misfortune is the whole trade of the blacksmith
that no house is ever built on the site of an old forge, though the
forge is allowed to be built inside the village. To bring a piece of
dross from a forge into a house would cause all the inmates to fall
ill. With this in mind a woman in Yemkha in 1919 left a piece of dross
as a parting present when she ran away from her husband.
[Basket-work.] Living in a land where cane and bamboo are plentiful
Lhotas are naturally expert basket-makers. Every man can make his own
household baskets, but the manufacture of difficult things such as cane
helmets (kiven) is generally left to experts. No woman is allowed to do
any basket-work of any kind. For rough baskets strips of fresh bamboo
are used. Cane is far more valuable and is reserved for articles which
are meant to last a long time. It is left to season before being used.
For rough work a chequer pattern is generally used, but for shields
(otsung), cane helmets, and grain baskets a twill pattern is used. A
pretty cross-warped pattern with wefts parallel to each other and
passing over and under the same alternate warps is used for the outside
of rain-shields (phuchyo), giving an open-work effect rather like the
cane seat of a bedroom chair.
[Wood-work.] Rough planks are hacked out with a dao, a most wasteful
method, as the whole thickness of a tree has to go to make each plank.
Wooden dishes are cut out of single pieces of wood with an adze (ophü).
They are then dried in the rough and rubbed smooth with stones and a
curious rough-surfaced leaf called phukirongti (Clerodendrum serratum).
Small “madhu” vats and very occasionally wooden shields are made in the
same way. The posts of “morungs” (champo) are carved in relief with
conventional representations of hornbills and mithan heads. The work is
done with the dao and is as a rule very rough—far inferior to the
carvings of Semas and Angamis, who in turn are much behind the Konyaks.
[Nets.] Nets like big landing-nets are made out of twisted strips of
bark from the erhingya tree. They are fitted onto a circular frame to
which a long handle is attached, and are used to land the stupefied
fish which come to the top when a river is “poisoned.” They are made by
men, never by women. The maker must remain chaste the previous night.
[Beads.] Among the few indigenous beads of the Naga Hills are the
little black beads (eshe) made from the seeds of a species of wild
plantain (sheyu) by the Lhotas. The industry is confined to women and
exists chiefly among the Southern Lhotas. The seeds are tough, and both
ends of each seed have to be laboriously chewed off. They are
astringent, and “bead chewing” becomes a perfect habit with some women.
The seeds are then pierced with a bamboo needle and strung, and the
strings rolled on a flat stone till the beads become cylindrical and a
good polish has been obtained. They are used for necklaces and look
exceedingly well against a brown skin.
[Hides.] No process of tanning is known. Skins which are required for
shields or any other purpose are merely cleaned and dried in the sun.
[Trade.] There is no tradition of any old form of currency, such as
beads, or gongs, though thin key-shaped pieces of iron (chabli) such as
the Aos used to use as currency are occasionally owned as heirlooms.
Trade was apparently always carried on by barter in the days before the
British coinage came into use. Even nowadays cotton which is taken down
to the plains is almost invariably bartered for salt. A peculiar custom
obtains when mithan, ivory armlets and boar’s tushes are bought and
sold. These articles are particularly liable to be infected with evil
fortune, certain marks being regarded as unlucky, and so on. An old man
is therefore always employed as an intermediary (lantse or thantsowe)
between the parties, and he finally settles the price when the
bargaining has gone on long enough. Any ill luck is believed to attach
itself to him as nominal buyer, rather than to the real buyer, who pays
him a commission of Re. 1 for a mithan, eight annas for an ivory armlet
and four annas for a pair of boar’s tushes. If anything intimately
connected with the person, such as a cloth or a dao, be sold the seller
retains a thread from the cloth or scrapes a tiny shaving off the
handle of the dao, for were he to sell the whole of something which was
almost part of himself the buyer might be able to exercise some magical
influence over him. [74]
Loans.
The rate of interest on loans varies according to the nature of the
thing lent. That on money is usually 50 per cent. simple interest,
running for two years only. The interest on rice is four baskets a year
for every six baskets borrowed. The interest has to be paid year by
year till the principal has been returned. A debt of seed paddy must be
paid before all other debts. The highest rate of interest is demanded
for salt, for which 100 per cent. per annum compound interest has to be
paid. The result is that loans of salt are promptly repaid.
Agriculture.
[Method of cultivation.] The Lhota is above all an agriculturist.
Rarely does his ambition extend beyond a bumper crop. Service under
Government has few attractions for him. Even if he takes a post he
often throws it up after a year or two and says he would rather go back
and live in his village and cultivate his land. Rice is the staple food
of the tribe and is far and away the most important crop grown. The
method of cultivation is that known as “jhuming.” A piece of jungle is
cut and burnt, and the land cultivated for two years and then allowed
to go back to jungle, under which it remains for a period varying from
four to fifteen years. If a man is short of land he obviously has to
cultivate each piece at shorter intervals. If he is the lord of wide
acres the intervals are longer. The bigger the jungle is allowed to
grow the more will mould accumulate and the thicker will be the deposit
of ash when it is burnt. On an average among the Lhotas a piece of land
is cultivated once in ten years. The whole village cultivates in one
block, each man having his own piece of land. Isolated patches of
cultivation would merely provide food for wild pig, monkeys and other
pests. The jungle is cut about December. [75] (The times of
agricultural operations vary a good deal according to the height and
climate of the village concerned.) When the time comes to begin
operations each man goes to his land and clears a little piece of
jungle. Should he see a snake while so occupied he probably runs home
as fast as his legs will carry him, for he would die were he to
cultivate that piece of land. If no such evil omen occurs he cuts a
stake, sets it up, cuts a notch in the side, puts a little earth from a
worm-cast in the notch and goes home. This is regarded as a sort of
oath that the owner proposes to clear that piece of jungle. He
carefully notes what dreams he has that night. Sometimes he puts a twig
from the jungle in question under his head. A bad dream would be enough
to make him select another piece of land for that year. On the day when
he puts up the stake he must not eat meat from a tiger’s kill or the
flesh of dog, goat or cattle. His wife may cook his food for him, but
he must eat separately from her in the morning, having remained chaste
the night before. In clearing the jungle everyone takes part—men, women
and children. A man helps his friends and they help him. The jungle is
cleared from the bottom of the slope upwards. Bushes and saplings are
cut close to the ground. Big trees are left standing, but thin branches
are trimmed so that they shall not shade the crop. Usually a bunch of
leaves is left growing at the top of big trees of which the other
branches are pruned away. Lhotas attach no particular significance to
this practice; but among the Aos it appears to be followed only by rich
men. [76]
The jungle is left till March to dry, when it is all burnt on the same
day. The man who is to start the fire is selected by cutting little
chips from a piece of stick and watching how they fall—the ordinary
Lhota way of taking omens. The man chosen first makes fire with a
fire-stick and sets the dry jungle alight. Then everyone joins in and
lights a long line of fire which sweeps uphill till it dies out in the
green, uncut jungle at the top. Next day is emung. After that work
begins in earnest. Stones and half-burnt logs are collected and little
barriers (oliecho) are built along the hillsides to prevent the earth
being washed away. Sometimes, as at Mangya, rough stone terrace walls
are built. The fields are then dug over with a single-handed digger
(chukchü), a small triangular iron blade fitted like an adze onto a
bamboo handle. This preliminary hoeing is omitted by most Northern
Lhota villages, who merely clear the land of rubbish before sowing. The
fields which have already carried a crop the year before are now
weeded, and the weeds gathered into heaps with a small bamboo rake
(keya) and burnt.
[Sowing and the ceremonies connected with it.] Before anyone can sow
his land certain ceremonies have to be performed. The first of these is
Thruven, which is performed first by the Puthi, and after him in the
course of the next few days by anyone who has dragged a stone or done
the Etha ceremony. The procedure is as follows. The Puthi goes with his
wife to the spot (Thruvenphen) just outside the village where tradition
says this ceremony must be performed, generally near the opya—the post
set up and speared at the Oyantsoa ceremony. He takes with him a twig
of bamboo (a shoot growing up directly from the ground will not do),
some chicken meat, boiled rice, “pita madhu,” ginger, a little
seed-rice, and some seeds of a plant with a variegated leaf called
orho. After pouring a little “madhu” on the ground, he arranges four
pieces of the bamboo twig in the form of a square and puts a large leaf
on the ground to his right and another on his left. On the right-hand
leaf he puts ten little pieces, and on the left-hand leaf nine little
pieces each of thatching grass, ginger, and chicken meat, and sprinkles
a little seed-rice over each heap. The heaps are then tied up in the
leaves and put in the square of bamboo twigs. Then close by he sows the
orho seeds, making a miniature fence round them, the sticks of which
are tied together at the top. This is a purely formal act, and it does
not seem to matter in the least whether the orho seeds ever come up or
not. Next morning the Puthi sows six seeds of rice in his garden plot.
This formal sowing of rice is omitted by the other men who do the
Thruven ceremony. Sexual intercourse is forbidden the night after this
ceremony. When the last man has finished the village keeps one day’s
emung. Anyone who has been married the previous winter, and everyone
who has done all social “gennas” and dragged a stone performs a further
ceremony before sowing his fields. Among the Northern Lhotas it is done
as follows. In the morning one of the old women who acted as
Ponyiratsen [77] at his wedding, or failing her any old man of his clan
who has done no social “gennas,” comes to his house, and there ties
eight nungyung leaves into two bundles of four. She then goes alone
down the path leading to his fields, taking with her the nungyung
leaves, two bamboo “chungas,” some rice, and a smouldering brand—for
fire is a great protection against evil spirits. She faces towards the
fields and lays a bundle of nungyung leaves on each side of the path,
with a “chunga” on each bundle, and a little bit of smoking brand
behind it. She then goes straight to her own home, taking with her the
rice, which is her fee. Next day the owner goes down to the field with
his friends and sows a little patch first, praying that his crop may be
as close as elephant grass, as spreading as a rubber tree and free from
weeds. He must refrain from sexual intercourse the night before he does
this, and must neither take food nor speak to anyone in the morning
till he has sown the first patch. Among the Southern Lhotas the old man
or woman who does the ceremony on the first day puts on each side of
the path a little heap of rice husks, a smouldering stick and two
crossed yutso leaves, on which are put six pieces of burnt wood, six
pieces of pork, a little boiled rice and a sprinkling of “madhu.” The
owner of the field must not eat any of the pig which provides the pork
used here. The formal act of sowing takes place next day as among the
Northern Lhotas. Both on the night preceding and the night after the
formal sowing sexual intercourse is forbidden among the Southern
Lhotas, and in the morning before going to his fields the man must eat
separately from his wife, though she may cook his food. Unlike his
neighbours the Aos, the Lhota does not sow broadcast. With the digger
(chukchü) held in his right hand he scratches a little hole. His left
hand is full of seed-rice, of which he allows four or five grains to
drop between the middle and index finger into the hole, which is filled
in with a stroke of the digger. Both men and women sow. The day’s
supply of seed-rice is carried in a basket on the left hip, the sowers
working their way in a line from the bottom of the hill upwards. From
the time the crop is sown till it ripens everyone is busy keeping his
fields as free from weeds as possible. The weeder (ehe) is a strip of
iron about nine inches long and one inch broad, bent into a semicircle
and fixed to a short bamboo handle. [78] Every field is weeded at least
twice, and often as many as six times—the oftener the better. The weeds
are collected into heaps along the edges of the fields, or on stony
patches where nothing will grow.
[The Motharatsen ceremony.] Among the Southern Lhotas a yearly ceremony
called Motharatsen is performed by the Puthi and Yenga only when the
crop is about half grown to prevent it being damaged by a small white
grub (ora). On a certain day of which he has given previous notice the
Puthi collects unhusked rice from the whole village and with some of it
buys a pig. This he kills on the day of the ceremony, and going outside
the village lays ten pieces of meat and ten pieces of ginger (osing) on
crossed yutso leaves to his right, and nine pieces of meat and ginger
on crossed yutso leaves to his left. The next day is emung. Though the
Northern Lhotas still keep the emung the ceremony has fallen into
abeyance among them. But the Southern Lhotas firmly believe in its
efficacy. In 1918 the people of Yanthămo attributed the failure of
their crops to the fact that a stranger from another village had
entered the house of their Puthi after he had collected the
subscription of rice and before he had performed the ceremony.
[The Amungkam ceremony.] When the rice comes into the ear ceremonies
are again performed to ensure a good crop. The first ceremony is called
Amungkam, and is performed by the Puthi and Yenga at the spot
(amungkampen) a little way outside the village at which it was
performed when the village was founded. The Puthi kills and cooks a
little boar at his own house and goes with his Yenga to the
amungkampen, taking with him a new cooking-pot, some of the boar’s
meat, a small live pig, a hen, an egg, a fire-stick and some yutso
leaves. The Puthi’s wife may accompany him, but the Yenga’s wife must
stay behind. The Puthi makes a fire with the fire-stick, and near it
lays out four bamboo twigs in the form of a square, in the middle of
which he sets up the egg on end, flanked on either side with forty-two
small pieces of meat on crossed yutso leaves. He then spears the live
pig, praying to Rangsi, the deity of the crops, that they may be good.
The pig is singed over the fire and cut up, the stomach and entrails
being cooked in the new pot and eaten by the Puthi. The rest of the
meat is divided up, one piece for every man in the village who has
dragged a stone. The Puthi then strangles the chicken between the
finger and thumb of his right hand and watches how the excreta fall as
it struggles. If they are dry there will not be much rain and the crops
will ripen well. If they are watery, storms will cause the crops to
rot. The entrails are next taken out and examined. If they are full the
crop will be good; if they are empty it will be poor. These are pushed
back into the chicken, which is placed on the ground by the egg. The
Puthi builds a little fence round the offering and hangs up the
fire-stick on it, the pot being turned upside down and left on the
ground. He then goes home and calls his friends to his house to drink
“madhu” and partake of the pig he killed before leaving home. To each
guest he offers a piece of pork and asks if he intends to do the
Rangsikam ceremony, which is voluntary. To accept the pork means that
the answer is in the affirmative. To refuse it means that the answer is
in the negative. Early on the morning of the next day, which is emung,
the villagers go and see if a wild cat or other animal has taken away
the chicken which had been left at amungkampen. For it to be taken away
forbodes ill for the village.
[The Rangsikam ceremony.] In Akuk no one may do the Rangsikam ceremony
till after the Lanvung “genna,” but in other villages it may be done
either before or after. The ceremony, which is also known as Likam, is
performed as follows. The master of the house having slept apart from
his wife the night before and eaten apart from her in the morning,
though she may cook his food, kills a pig, and taking the cooked meat,
“madhu,” boiled rice, a live hen and a new pot, goes down to his
field-house—a shed built by each man in his fields where he can shelter
from the rain or eat his mid-day meal with his wife and family. Having
made a fire with a fire-stick inside the house he holds the hen by the
wings with his right hand and walks round the outside of the house,
swinging the hen and calling out the names of all the different
varieties of rice he knows, whether he has sown them or not, and asking
Rangsi to give him a good crop of them. He then strangles the chicken
and takes the omens exactly as the Puthi does in the Amungkam ceremony.
It is worth noting that this is the only occasion on which anything is
killed in the field-house. Otherwise it is forbidden to bring raw meat
of any kind into a field-house, or kill anything or have sexual
intercourse in it. This is why the approaches to field-houses near
paths are often “panjied” as a gentle reminder to passers-by that they
must not run in to shelter from the rain if they are carrying raw meat.
To resume, the hen is plucked, and cooked in the new pot. It is not
eaten by the sacrificer, but is taken back to the village and given to
an old man of his clan. The entrails are put in the pot, which is
covered with a leaf and buried up to the rim behind the field-house.
The little bamboo basket in which the hen was brought is stuck all over
with its feathers and put, together with the fire-stick, beside the
pot. All then wash their hands and the proceedings end with a meal from
the provisions brought down. From the time when the preparation of the
“madhu” for this ceremony is begun till the ceremony is over, sexual
intercourse is forbidden and no member of the household must touch a
corpse, meat from a tiger’s kill or the flesh of cattle, dogs or goats.
On the day of the ceremony no man from another village may enter the
house before the family go down to the field-house.
[The Lanvung ceremony.] In the damp climate of Assam jungle grows with
extraordinary speed. The seventh day after the Amungkam emung is set
aside for a united path-clearing (Lanvung) [79] by the whole village.
During the six days preceding the Lanvung day nothing may be sold or
killed in the village, and no one may touch a tiger’s kill, or perform
any “genna” such as Potsokam or Etchhienya. On the seventh day the
working companies each kill a big pig, every man subscribing his share
of the price. The next day is a general picnic and the whole village
turns out to clear the jungle from the paths. There is much feasting
and drinking, and the bucks have jumping competitions and perform feats
of strength. Among the Northern Lhotas as each branch path is cleared
roof-shaped bamboo erections (vangkoseng), like double pen racks with
bamboos laid on them in the place of pens, are set up at each fork, to
the accompaniment of much ho-hoing. [80] The next day is emung.
[Protection of crops.] While the crop is ripening the owner is kept
busy protecting it from the ravages of beasts and birds. Little
look-outs (zengki) are built in the trees, well out of the reach of an
elephant’s trunk. Wild animals are driven away by shouting or clapping
two pieces of bamboo together, or blowing a bamboo trumpet (phupphu),
or by building a big fire and feeding it with bamboos, which go off
with a loud bang as each section is burst by the expanding hot air
inside it. There is no hedge between field and field, but a rough fence
is built round the whole block of village cultivation in order to keep
out deer and cattle. In the old days low gaps were left in the fence
here and there. Any deer which gave way to temptation and jumped
through one of these gaps found itself impaled on “panjis.” Monkeys are
most destructive and difficult to get rid of. One plan is to catch a
small monkey, pierce its ears and ornament them with large lumps of
cotton-wool. It is then let go and tries to rejoin the troop, who
promptly turn tail at the sight of this strange apparition. The more
the troop runs away the harder the little monkey tries to catch them,
and the harder it tries to catch them, the faster they go. To drive
away birds pieces of bamboo leaf-sheaf, sometimes cut into the rough
outline of a hovering hawk, are tied from the end of a string to a pole
and put to flutter in the breeze.
[The eating of first-fruits.] Just before the crop begins to ripen the
ceremony of eating the first-fruits (Mshe etak) is performed, by the
Puthi first, and after him by the other households in the village. From
the day on which the Puthi announces that he is preparing his “madhu”
to that on which the last man does the ceremony, no stranger may enter
the Puthi’s house, and selling and killing of fowls and animals and the
bringing of meat into the village are prohibited as they are before the
Lanvung ceremony. On the day of the ceremony the Puthi kills a little
boar outside his house. He does not eat this meat but distributes it to
all the houses in the village in which there has been a death during
the year. These portions are offered to the dead in the Etchhienya
ceremony. After killing the pig he goes into his house accompanied by
his Yenga and the second Puthi if there be one, and in the presence of
his family strangles a hen, with a prayer to the Rangsi that there may
be good crops, no accidents, no raids by enemies, and no prowling
tigers. He then takes the omens from the excreta and entrails in the
ordinary way. The Puthi’s wife, [81] or the Puthi himself if he be a
widower, now goes and cuts the rice sown in the garden plot at the
Thruven ceremony, no matter how unripe it may be. This the Puthi husks
in silence. He may be helped by the assistant Puthi but by no one else.
He puts a little of the grain on the sickle, on both his feet, against
his forehead and finally on the hearth-stones. What is left he wraps up
in a leaf and half boils. This he pretends, to eat, praying that
squirrels, rats and birds may find the rice of the village crops
bitter. It is then thrown away, but the hen is eaten. During the next
day or two everyone goes down to his fields and brings up a little
rice, with which he performs the same ceremony, except that no hen or
pig is killed. A little of this rice is preserved and kept wrapped in a
leaf at the bottom of the “chunga” or other receptacle in which the
day’s supply of grain is put every morning. Such is the custom among
the Northern Lhotas. Among the Southern Lhotas no rice is put on the
sickle, feet, hearth, etc., but the rice is eaten by the whole family
with crabs as a relish.
[Reaping ceremonies.] The crops ripen about August, those in the old
fields being ready first, and as soon as Mshe etak is over everyone may
cut his rice as soon as it is ready. On the day when he first goes down
to cut his crop each man performs at his field-house a ceremony called
Liritang in honour of the Rangsi. [82] He takes down with him “Rangsi’s
load” (Rangsi’ha) containing a cooked pig’s head, a gourd of “madhu,”
an egg, a little salt, some cooked rice and the leaves of sangsu (a
long thin leaf), lhetyak (a hairy leaf), and orungu (a small leaf,
white on the underside). Having arrived at his field-house and seen
that all who are to help him that day have come, for no one may come
once he has begun the ceremony—he lights a fire with a fire-stick,
takes four blades of thatching grass from the roof and bends them
double, and places six grains of rice on the threshold (likingko) of
the field-house. He then cracks the egg over the six grains of rice and
pours the contents into the leaf in which he wrapped it when he left
his house. This leaf he ties to the post of the field-house, taking it
home when he goes in the evening and either giving the contents to his
children or eating them himself. He then lights the thatching grass at
the fire, and holding the orungu, sangsu and lhetyak leaves with the
thatching grass in his right hand, goes outside the house and waves
them with a sweeping motion from left to right, the smoke from the
thatching grass thus driving evil spirits away. He then says the
following [83] traditional words:—
Orung-na ranga ranga phang (orungu, asking, asking remain). Lhetyak-na
tyaka tyaka phang (lhetyak, sweeping, sweeping remain). Sangsu-na
sangsu lithana, sangsu lithana oro tamtam chudechia (sangsu, sangsu,
changing, changing with sangsu, coming in a stream pour out).
This is said to mean—for the words are not clearly understood by the
Lhotas themselves: “Orungu leaves pray the Rangsi continually to give
me a good crop; lhetyak leaves sweep the grain into my field-house, and
sangsu leaves come one after the other and pour rice in a stream from
your loads into my field-house.” The man then re-enters the house and
sprinkles the floor with “madhu” from his gourd while he repeats the
following words:—
“Satung rampeng Rangsi tchhüchi rhempi Rangsi, lipphu
“Fish-trap hunter’s deity, water-side wanderer’s deity, hillside
liteng Rangsi, tsatso rüku mpito Rangsi
company’s deity, hurt wounded men’s all deities
rencheli”
come out of hiding.”
In other words he prays to all Rangsis belonging to men who are busy
fishing or snaring birds by the pools or are hurt (i.e. all men who do
no cultivation and so have no need of Rangsis), together will all the
Rangsis of the hillside to come and help him. The “madhu” is then
sprinkled along the threshold from end to end and the ceremony is at an
end and reaping begins. At midday the owner and his helpers come back
to the field house for a meal. The owner first undoes the pig’s head
and puts salt on it. This can be eaten only by him and old people. If
he happens to have an oha (luck-stone) in his house, no one but he can
eat the pig’s head, or they will have a bad cough.
The crop is reaped with a small iron sickle (vekhuo) with a saw edge.
Several stalks are grasped together with the left hand and cut a few
inches below the ears. The unthreshed rice is stored in the field-house
till everyone in the village has reaped his crop. Each man on the day
when he first goes down to thresh again performs the Liritang ceremony
as before, except that a fowl—either cock or hen—takes the place of the
pig’s head. To thresh the grain the ears are heaped on mats outside the
field-house, and after being well trampled are flicked against the
right shin. [84] To winnow the grain one man pours it slowly from a
basket held with both hands above his head while another fans it
vigorously with a winnowing fan (saveng)—a bamboo mat with the two
corners of one end drawn together, resulting in a thing rather like a
sugar scoop in shape.
All that remains now is to carry up the grain as fast as possible. If
the fields are a long way from the village, small temporary granaries
(echengrangki) are built half-way in which the crop can be stored till
the field-house, where wild pig and elephants are likely to do most
damage, has been emptied. The grain is carried up in baskets (otyak),
and every man, woman and child in the village helps, going down to the
fields with torches in their hands long before dawn and coming up with
the last load long after sunset. When the harvest is safely in each man
goes down and rolls up the mats in his field-house, and takes them
home, uttering as he does so a prayer to Phuri Rangsi (Mister Rangsi)
to be favourable to him next year. Ahead of him lie a few weeks of
well-earned rest till the time comes to cut the jungle for the next
year’s crop.
[Varieties of rice.] Many varieties of rice, both white and
red-grained, are sown by the Lhotas. For example, the principal kinds
in Okotso are as follows:—White, amorü (very coarse), otsi emhuho
(coarse), laza (medium), motiro (fine), wochio (with black husk),
tambaktsok (with red husk): Red, oriepyo (coarse), kamtiya (fine),
santungo (fine), moyo (fine), changkiu (fine), and mhumyandhro (very
fine). No variety is used exclusively either for eating or for “madhu,”
but the best kinds for “madhu” are santungo, otsi emhuho, oriepyo,
kamtiya and moyo.
[Other crops.] Besides rice there are a number of subsidiary crops,
generally sown along the edges of the fields or in patches among the
rice. Maize (tsunghundhro) is sown along the boundaries of the fields,
or among the chilies, never in large patches, which would only attract
bears. Millet (Setaria italica, Lhota teni) is not an important crop as
it is among the Semas and Changs, though a good deal is grown by some
of the villages high up on the slopes of Wokha Hill. It is sown about
February and cut about July. Giant millet (Sorghum vulgare, Lhota
lichophuk) is sown mostly along the boundaries of fields, the time
being about the same as that of millet. Job’s tears (omung) is also
sown along the edges of fields at the same time as the rice and ripens
about ten days or a fortnight later. Of taro (Colocasia antiquorum,
Lhota mani) there are several varieties, the principal being tsampang
(large, reddish root), vakhundro (small root) and loro (a very large
root). This is generally planted along the little soil-barriers
(oliecho) and scattered among the rice, but sometimes a patch of ground
is devoted exclusively to it. Chilies (machi) are sown both in the
garden patches and on low rich land at the bottom of the fields. The
sowing takes place in March, and the plants begin to bear in July. It
is a biennial, and in the second year begins to produce pods in May. If
left for a third year there will be a few pods, but they are small and
shrivelled. Cotton (khungko), after rice, is the most important Lhota
crop. Sufficient is grown for home consumption and for a considerable
export trade. It is sown in March on sunny slopes from which light
jungle has been cleared, preferably with a rather gritty soil, and is
ready for plucking in October. Whole fields are devoted exclusively to
it, but it is an annual and is never sown twice running on the same
ground. Several varieties of lentil (orho) are grown, all climbers. It
is sown in March at the base of the trees left standing about the
fields and plucked in October. “Stinking dal” (limcham or
nyingtyingsing) only grows to the height of French beans. Whole fields
are often given up to it, and it is often sown in rotation after cotton
in February or March, and is ready about November. When the rice is
sown, lufas (longchungo) are sown at the foot of trees in the field.
The green gourd-like fruit is eaten in October, and in January the dry
fruit is plucked, the stiff fibrous interior being used to clean pots,
etc. Big and small gourds (shammo and zükhe) are grown for their hard
shells, which are used as bottles. They are sown along the edges of
fields in March and are ripe in October. A very insipid variety of
water-melon (hmeliti) is sown scattered about among the rice and is
ready from July on. Several varieties of thick, short cucumber
(lishakti) are sown at the same time as the rice and ripen from July to
November. Black sesame (Sesamum indicum, Lhota penching) and white oil
seed (Perilla ocimoides, Lhota pentsü) are sown in March along the
boundaries of the fields, the crop being ready in October or November.
In cold villages whole fields of pentsü are grown. Tobacco (mukuyo) is
extensively grown both in garden plots and in corners of fields set
apart for it, as well as along the boundaries and scattered about among
the rice. It is sown in March, and gives a continual crop of leaves
from August on. Indigo (Strobilanthes flaccidifolius, Lhota tchemo) is
grown to a certain extent in garden plots, but chiefly in damp, shady
places in the jungle. Cuttings are put in in May and June, and are full
grown by August of the next year. It is forbidden for men to touch this
plant. The only garden vegetable grown is mustard (hangi), the leaves
of which are eaten. A kind of giant taro (taktsü) is grown in gardens
occasionally for its leaves, which are used to line the baskets in
which “madhu” rice is set to stand. No part of the plant is ever eaten.
[Flowers.] The Lhota likes to have flowers handy to put in his ears,
and grows a few varieties in his little garden. The chief kinds are
wild canna (lentala), wild cock’s-comb (thropentera), marigold
(yantantera), a small purple flower (kambentera), a pale yellow flower
(narisen), and a red flower (echamtera).
[Fruit, etc.] A large number of oranges [85] (tsampen or khongkeng) and
bitter oranges (tsampenyimo—“foolish orange”) are grown in the hot
villages, a considerable trade in the former being carried on with the
plains. The trees are grown from pips and are never manured or pruned
or looked after in any way. Other fruit trees are the pomegranate
(tsaramtiven), which is propagated by cuttings, and a huge plantain
(echamyuti), which is horribly wooden and astringent and has to be
cooked before it can be eaten even by a Lhota. The Christians of Okotso
now grow a few tea bushes (cha). A very small number of betel nut palms
(mma) are to be found in villages on the range nearest the plains.
These villages do a big trade in “pan” leaves (lamo) with the plains,
where hill “pan” fetches a good price. The “pan” vines are grown up
trees in the jungle wherever the soil is suitable. They are not
cultivated in any way, but every vine belongs to some individual though
it is growing in unreclaimed jungle. The vines are propagated by means
of cuttings.
Live-stock.
Mithan (Bos frontalis, Lhota tsiro) are regarded as a sign of wealth,
but are no longer kept in large numbers by the Lhotas. They do a lot of
damage to the crops, and as an investment are too risky to suit the
taste of the careful Lhota, being very liable to rinderpest, an
outbreak of which may kill off a whole herd. Further, they are
practically only used for sacrificial purposes, for which cattle will
do almost as well. Bulls which are marked in such a way that it would
be unlucky to sacrifice them are sometimes killed for food, but cows
are only eaten when they die of old age or disease. A pure-bred mithan
is black, with white stockings and grey forehead, but many individuals
are found marked with white or brown on the body. This appears to be
due to the fact that the strain of mithan in the Naga Hills has become
hopelessly contaminated by allowing them to interbreed with cattle.
[86] An ordinary cow mated with a mithan bull produces a hybrid, which
in turn is fertile when mated with a mithan. The result of this cross
when again mated with a mithan produces an animal which in size and
shape resembles a mithan, but which often shows its humble origin in
its colouring. Animals of this unpure strain have contaminated the
whole breed and any pair of mithan is liable to produce a throw-back.
Though mithan calves are sometimes tied up outside the owner’s house
till their legs get strong, the animals are generally allowed to run
more or less wild in the jungle, the owner merely calling them and
giving them salt occasionally. Beasts are occasionally marked by having
their ears split. No bells are worn and no herdsman is kept to look
after mithan or any kind of cattle. When a mithan calf is born the
owner observes six days’ “genna” if it is a bull and five days’ if it
is a cow. During those days no stranger from another village can enter
his house and he must not eat meat from a tiger’s kill. This “genna” is
observed for the calves of all cattle. In the case of mithan a necklace
of six seeds of the sword-bean (khuro) is put on the neck of a bull
calf, and one of five seeds on the neck of a cow calf, and after being
worn for a few hours is taken off and hung up in the owner’s house.
[87] A curious custom which appears to be common to all Nagas and
applies to cattle of all kinds and often to pigs, is that by which a
man will own half or one leg of an animal. Often a man prefers to
distribute his risk by investing in a share in a number of mithan
rather than own the whole of two or three beasts. The hybrid (tyangtso)
of a mithan bull and ordinary cow is a black or very dark brown animal
midway between its parents in size. They are allowed to run wild, but
generally come and sleep in the village. Large numbers of ordinary
cattle (mangsü) are bought in the plains. They are of the common
Assamese breed, and miserable creatures as a rule. Some are kept for
food and breeding, but usually they are taken straight through into the
Ao and Sema country and sold. The Lhota never milks his cattle, simply
because it is not the custom to do so, but he will drink milk if it is
offered to him. There is a black and black-and-white breed of cattle
known as süpi which the Lhotas regard as indigenous to their country.
These carry a good deal more meat than the Assamese cattle. All cattle
are allowed to run loose in the jungle, the owner only going to have a
look at them every two or three days. Buffalo (juzü) which are past
work are sometimes bought in the plains and brought up for food, but
they are never bred by Lhotas and are useless for sacrificial purpose,
as they are regarded as “stupid” beasts. Pigs (woko) swarm in Lhota
villages and a man must be very poor indeed not to keep one or two.
They are closely akin to the wild pig, with which they occasionally
interbreed. When a sow farrows the owner observes five days’ “genna.”
Every boar is castrated when it is only about two months old. This
operation is generally performed with a sharp piece of bamboo by a man
who is known to be skilled at it. Ashes having been put on the wound it
is sewn up, and the little pig runs off apparently none the worse. The
ears of all boars are clipped at the time when they are castrated.
Little pigs are generally shut up in the mpongki at night, but when
they get big they are allowed to roam about the village at will, only
coming home for a meal of rice husks, “madhu” waste and taro once a
day. A pig which is a bad wanderer and does not come home as it should
is punished by having its ears pierced and a piece of string run
through them and tied to the wall of the house. [88] Ordinarily dogs
are the only animals to which names are given, but in some villages
pigs are called after the person from whom they are bought, a custom
which is generally viewed with no great favour by the seller if he gets
to hear of it. Sometimes little pigs become household pets. I knew one
in Seleku which spent most of its time playing with the children. It
had its own special cloth spread for it by the fire and would sleep
nowhere else. It was sold by its callous owner when it began to get
big, and no doubt became pork shortly afterwards. Goats (nyanya) are
kept in large numbers, white goats with long hair being particularly
valuable. This hair is sold to be dyed red and used for all kinds of
ornaments. The wretched animals used to be plucked alive, one goat
giving several crops. But this has now been stopped and the hair is cut
off. Goats being particularly attractive to leopards, they are kept at
night in little houses (nyanyarangki) placed high up on poles in the
village, a couple of notched posts forming a ladder up which they can
scramble.
Except in the villages near the plains, where they are supplanted by
Assamese curs, Lhota dogs are of the ordinary Naga type, black, with
white chest and often one or more white paws. There are often brown and
white markings on the body, and one type is entirely white with long
hair. [89] The latter used to be plucked alive as white goats were and
their hair used for ornaments. All dogs have names. Examples are Keri
(“white paws,” lit. gauntlets), Pangri (“piebald”), Humthe
(“soft-haired”), Phunyung (“red dog”), Taphuno (“stay-at-home,” lit.
“hearth dog”), Mhakuk (“ditch-on-face,” i.e. with a depression over the
nose), Kimung (“stay-in-the-house”), Yimo (“fool”), Okharo (“little
one,” a pet name for the last-born child). The tails of all dogs are
cut short, and the ears of male dogs are also clipped. The severed bits
of tail are put in a cleft stick and stuck up in the house out of the
way of rats, for were a rat to eat a tail the puppy to which it lately
belonged would die. A Lhota feeds and treats all his dogs well, but is
especially careful of his hunting dogs. They are never punished as
other dogs are, the result being that they are hopelessly disobedient.
It is quite common for the dogs to spoil a whole day’s hunting by going
off on the wrong line and remaining deaf to their masters’ shouts.
Hunting dogs are never eaten, and when one dies it is wrapped in a
cloth and given decent burial outside the village. A Lhota strokes but
never pats his dog. When he wants to make much of it he holds its head
between his hands and allows it to lick his face, returning the
compliment by dribbling onto its nose. When a bitch has puppies her
owner observes five days’ “genna,” with the same restrictions as in the
case of cattle and pigs. Cats (onyiro) are never kept, though they are
occasionally bought in the plains and eaten.
The Lhota fowl (hono) much resembles the red jungle fowl (Gallus
ferrugineus), with which it often interbreeds. Crosses with the kalij
pheasant (Gennæus horsfieldi) too are by no means unknown. Fowls live
on what they can pick up, but never seem to wander far from home. Old
baskets are put up on shelves in the mpongki for hens to lay in and
hatch their chickens out of the reach of rats. The owner must take the
chickens down from the basket either after sunset or before sunrise.
Before doing so he puts a piece of burnt wood (or in some villages five
pieces of burnt wood) into the basket and says: “When you wander may
you not be lost or fall a prey to wild cat or hawk.” The egg-shells are
strung on a bit of bamboo and hung up in the house, it is said in order
to keep a reckoning of the number of eggs hatched in the year. [90]
Nowadays pigeons (vephu) are kept by a few people. Ducks are never
kept, though large numbers are brought up from the plains for food.
Hunting.
Guns being comparatively scarce, the Lhota still hunts deer with dogs
and spear as his forefathers did before him. Sambhur (sepu) are chiefly
found in the flat river valleys, and when hunted invariably make for
the water, which they cross and recross repeatedly. Tracks having shown
that a sambhur is in a certain piece of jungle, the dogs are worked
through it by their owner, who encourages them with a shout like a loud
laugh. With him goes a thin line of spearmen to guard against a break
back, while other spears wait at places where the quarry is likely to
cross the stream. The dogs give tongue lustily enough as soon as they
pick up the scent, so that the waiting spearmen can change their
position according to the line which the deer seems to be taking. This
goes on till the deer is either killed or gets clean away. The method
of hunting serow (tsiyo) and barking deer (sanu) is the same, except
that these animals are found in the little valleys running down the
hills and are ambushed at the points where they try to get through into
the next valley. The Lhota is a wonderful judge of the line a deer is
going to take and can generally be relied upon to get his spear into a
running target at twenty yards, so that these hunts are more often
successful than unsuccessful. No hunting takes place on the day on
which anyone has died in the village, not apparently from any idea of
showing respect to the dead, but because it is regarded as a foregone
conclusion that luck will be bad that day. If an animal killed is found
to have died with its tongue hanging out of the left side of its mouth,
hunting is probably stopped for the day, as it is believed that no more
game will be killed; but to find the tongue hanging out of the right
side of the mouth means that if the hunters go on they will rouse and
kill another deer. Sityingo [91] is the jungle deity who owns all wild
animals as a man owns domestic animals. If a hunting party kills a deer
with a torn ear they will hunt no more that day, for have they not
killed a deer whose ear Sityingo has snicked as a sign of ownership.
The deer, however, can be eaten. Furthermore, the dogs must be purified
before they can hunt again. Their owner orders his wife to prepare a
little “madhu.” This she must do in silence. Next day no stranger from
another village may enter his house, nor anyone who is doing a “genna”
of any kind. The following day water is added to the “madhu” and the
“madhu” rice given to the dogs to eat. The owner, taking them with him,
goes with an old man to a spot outside the village, where the latter
makes a fire with a fire-stick, and lifting the dogs in his hands
passes them through the smoke, uttering as he does so the following
prayer to Sityingo: “We have made new ‘madhu’ and new fire, and have
purified the dogs. May all the deer wherever they be come to our
village and be hunted by these dogs.” He then watches to see what
insects come near the fire. If big insects come the dogs will get
sambhur. If small insects come they will get barking deer.
Much though he enjoys the sport, the Lhota hunts primarily to get meat.
The division of the spoil is therefore carefully regulated by custom,
which is strictly adhered to. In the case of deer the first spear gets
a hind-leg, second spear a fore-leg, and the owner of the dogs a
hind-leg, the head, liver and heart, [92] the remaining fore-leg going
to the oldest man of the hunting party. The rest of the meat is divided
among the remaining spearmen, the older men getting slightly bigger
shares than the younger. A spear which only hits the animal in the face
or on the hock does not count. Were the thrower to claim a share of the
meat on the strength of such a hit it is believed that either he or one
of his family would die. From every deer killed Sityingo is given his
share. This consists of six little bits of liver wrapped in one leaf
and five little bits in another. These are eaten by the oldest man in
the village of the clan of the owner of the dogs. Wild pig (oni or
lipung) are occasionally hunted with dogs, but generally are only
speared if a man happens to meet one. The same applies to bears
(sivan). A wounded bear is not generally followed up till next day. It
is then relentlessly tracked, alike over soft ground where every
footprint is plain and over rocky slopes where nothing but a few bent
leaves show which way it has gone, for a Lhota will pick up what, to
European eyes, is a hardly perceptible trail as easily and quickly as
he will follow an ordinary path. In the case of animals such as pig and
bear killed without the aid of dogs, the first spear gets the head,
hind-leg, fore-leg, liver and heart, and the second spear the other
fore-leg and hind-leg. Remaining members of the party take the rest of
the meat. There are no chiefs as there are among the Semas and Changs
to get a share of the meat whether they join in the hunt or not. Dogs
are also used to hunt porcupines (liso), an animal much sought after
for its flesh, the skin of the back being especially esteemed. For a
tiger (mharr) or leopard (mharrtero) hunt the whole male population of
the village turns out with daos and shields and spears, and, in Moilang
and its neighbours, wearing cane helmets. A rough circle is cleared
round the piece of jungle in which the beast has been marked down, and
a V-shaped palisade is built at the bottom. Outside this the old men
wait with their spears ready poised, while the young men drive the
animal downhill, cutting the jungle as they go. Any man who is charged
falls with his shield over him, while a shower of spears distracts the
tiger’s attention. Eventually if all goes well the tiger is driven into
the palisading and speared by the old men waiting there. If a tiger
happens to break a spear the shaft must either be left in the jungle or
stuck in the ground under the head of the quarry when it is hung up
after a successful hunt. If this is not done the owner will some day be
killed by a tiger. The tiger’s head is cut off by a man who has done
all social “gennas” and is a warrior of repute, and the paws by a man
who belongs to a family a member of which has been killed by a tiger.
This in a sense removes the curse from the family. [93] The head and
paws are hung on a tree by the side of the path up to the village, and
tsombhondhro leaves are stuffed in its mouth, some say to prevent it
eating people in the Land of the Dead, and some say so that it may not
be able to tell the dead what clan killed it. Under the head the
hunters jab the ground with their spear butts till it is thickly
covered with little marks. If the spirit (omon) of the tiger comes
wandering round it will see these marks and refrain from troubling a
village which possesses such a mighty army of warriors. The man who cut
off the tiger’s head must not eat beef, pork, goat’s flesh, jungle
birds, taro or any boiled relish, or have intercourse with his wife for
twelve days. A similar prohibition for one day applies to the other men
of the village.
Monkeys such as Pithecus brahma (otham) and Macacus assamensis
(kirango) are shot with the crossbow (olo) and arrows, but a tailless
ground-monkey (Macacus arctoides, Lhota mitham) is driven with great
success, the day’s bag sometimes totalling thirty or forty. A troop
which takes up its abode in a jungly gully flanked by cultivated fields
is doomed. All the men of the village surround the jungle, and a tunnel
(vaksap) is built of interlaced jungle and brushwood at the lower end,
like a duck-decoy tunnel on a small scale. The monkeys are driven from
the upper end, and keeping to the ground enter the tunnel. Finding no
exit at the lower end they completely lose their heads and cling to one
another and whimper till they are killed.
Before the making of pitfalls (soku) was forbidden by Government large
numbers of elephants, deer and wild pig were killed by means of them.
Elephant-pits were huge affairs, but the ordinary pitfall was about ten
feet deep, with the bottom covered with big jagged rocks and “panjis,”
so that any animal which fell in was likely both to have its legs
broken and to be impaled. Many kinds of snares are used, mostly for
small animals and birds, though a running noose (putha or ozo) used to
be used by the Southern Lhotas for deer. The commonest trap is the
triangular trap (tsiri), which is also used by Aos, Changs, Semas and
Angamis. It is set in runs or at holes in fences and is most effective.
It consists of a triangle of bamboo, the base of which is extended to
form a bow. The side nearest the bow is double. Through this is passed
a noose which is set in such a way that any animal or bird trying to
get through the triangle releases the bow and is caught by the noose
against the double side. Birds and small animals are also caught by
running nooses (khükcha), platforms which release nooses when trodden
on (chambo), and fall-traps (otyo). Are Yanthamo appears to be the only
village which possesses a box-trap for leopards, though these
contrivances are common among the Aos, from whom Are Yanthamo probably
copied the one in question. It consists of a small low shed made of
stout saplings securely tied in place and is divided into two
compartments, in the hinder of which is put the bait, a live goat. The
leopard enters, and in making for the goat treads on a little platform
which releases a catch and drops a heavy wooden door behind it. Only
once did a leopard enter the Are Yanthamo trap, and then it raged and
roared in such an alarming way that the local Nimrods sat in the
village and quaked, till it eventually managed to break its way out. A
monkey is not an easy beast to snare, but a genius in Changbang
invented a booby trap for monkeys which is said to have been very
successful. He watched the line which monkeys took when chased off his
fields. In their path he dug a pitfall, and over it at some height
arranged a dry branch in such a way that monkeys would be sure to run
along it in their flight. He cut this branch nearly through, so that
the first monkey which used it snapped it off and came to an untimely
end in the pitfall. Kabuis use a similar trap for monkeys. [94]
Bird-lime (onyi) made of a mixture of the sap of the rubber tree
(nitsütung) and Ficus religiosa (nitsotung) is extensively used. The
two kinds of sap are boiled down in separate “chungas,” which are then
split and the resulting rubber-like cakes extracted and cut into small
pieces. The bits of thickened nitso sap are chewed to soften them and
put in a broken potsherd. Then the pieces of nitsü juice are toasted
over the fire on the end of an old umbrella stay and mixed with the
nitso sap in the potsherd while they are hot. The resulting bird-lime
is sometimes put on twigs stuck up by the side of pools at which birds
come to drink, and sometimes put on twigs fixed on bushes and baited
with a live cockroach impaled on a thorn. The use of decoy birds is
unknown. An accurate knowledge of its habits enables a snarer to catch
even the Great Indian Hornbill (rücheng) with bird-lime. This bird
never flies straight to the berries on which it is going to feed, but
always first perches on the thick part of the branch and then hops out
towards the end, raising its wings slightly at each hop. Limed twigs
are therefore put along the side of the branch at such an angle that
they will touch the bird’s body as it raises its wings. At such a touch
it shuts its wing down on the limed twig and is helpless.
A word on the taking of bees’ and hornets’ nests may find a place under
this section. There are men who for some curious reason appear to be
immune from stings, but the ordinary Lhota either smokes out the nest
he wishes to take, or else kills all the occupants by taking a handful
of the pounded skin of the chalmăgra fruit (hmhmti) and blowing the
fumes into the hole. [95] Honey or the juice of the pounded leaves and
bark of a certain tree (tsungnung) is often rubbed on the body as a
protection against bee stings. A man who intends to take a bees’ or
hornets’ nest must remain chaste the night before. Both the honey and
grubs are eaten, and a species of large bee (tsakmen) which builds
under overhanging rocks and branches makes good wax. The other
principal species are a medium-sized bee (takrhi), a small bee with a
negligible sting (ndhrontso) and a very small bee with a severe sting
(lungtsak). Hornets’ nests, which are sought for for the fat, juicy
grubs they contain, are not so easily taken. The nest of one species
(tsaktsü) is underground and the tiny hole by which it is entered is
hard to find. Anyone, therefore, who has a craving for tsaktsü grubs
puts out a bit of bad meat as a bait and catches the first hornet which
settles on it. He carefully extracts its sting and ties a bit of
cotton-wool or a white feather to its legs and lets it go. Hampered by
the feather, which can be seen from a good distance, it flies slowly
towards home and can generally be followed if the jungle is not too
thick. The nest once found a big fire is lighted over it at night when
all the hornets have gone in and it is dug out. Another kind of hornet
(chengkuku) with a red head and a fearful sting builds huge nests in
the branches of trees. At night a fire is lighted underneath and
burning straw held to the nest at the end of a bamboo. Any hornets
which escape the burning straw drop into the fire and the nest can be
safely taken.
Though Lhotas possess a wonderful sense of direction, it sometimes
happens that a man out hunting loses his way in the jungle. Should this
happen he cuts a stick and makes a few cuts in the bark to represent
the pattern on a python’s skin. This stick he leaves on the ground and
is then sure to be able to find his way without difficulty. The custom
is connected with the belief that the python has a habit of leaving its
saliva on leaves, and that anyone who touches one of these leaves by
accident will go mad and lose his way. [96]
Fishing.
Lhotas are keen fishermen and expert swimmers. Fishing rights over any
particular stretch of water are governed by custom, being held by the
village or villages who exercised them in the past. The rights to
“poison” in any particular pool are generally held jointly by two or
more villages, while each village has the right to erect weirs in
particular stretches of water. “Poisoning” is by far the most important
method of fishing. Formerly the root of a small plant called notsü was
much used. The juice of this kills every fish with which it comes in
contact and its use has been prohibited by Government. The other
so-called “poisons” only stupefy the fish. The commonest is the juice
of a creeper (niro), which for some reason affects cat-fish (zyümo)
even when it is too weak to stupefy other fish. On one occasion when
the writer watched the fishing of a pool insufficient poison was used.
Yet thirty-six huge cat-fish were caught, while the rest of the bag
consisted of only about a dozen small fish. [97] Other “poisons” used
are cheti (the berries of a tree with leaves rather like mahogany
leaves: this poison is much used by the Aos, who call it arr), pitsü (a
creeper with small leaves), opyak and achak (the bark of two species of
trees), mwemti (little berries, chiefly used in small streams), and
mozi (a creeper, weak and not much used). All the villages who have the
right to “poison” in a certain pool agree to combine to do so on a
certain day. On the night before the fishing is to take place sexual
intercourse is forbidden, nor may anything be killed in the morning
before going down to the water. The presence of women is absolutely
forbidden when fishing is going on. Every man brings with him a bundle
of creeper (assuming niro is being used). This is first thoroughly
pounded on the bank to ensure that all the cells are broken. Trees are
felled and placed on rough stone supports across the stream to serve as
pounding benches for the final pounding, each village making its own
line or lines of benches one above the other. As each bench is finished
the men lay their half-pounded bundles of creeper on it. The braves
then line up on the shore facing up stream, and all ho-ho together and
brandish their daos. Then a rush is made for the benches and everyone
pounds his bunch of creeper, dipping it in the water at intervals. All
chant as they work, and the men on each line of benches pound more or
less in time. Meanwhile old men are watching the pool below and a shout
goes up when the first fish is seen to come floundering to the top.
This is the signal for all to throw their bundles of creeper into the
water and rush down to the pool. Some wait round the edge with
long-handled landing nets, while others put a heavy stone into their
“lengta” band and chase the fish at the bottom of the pool, slipping
the stone out when they want to come to the top. The young bucks are
like otters, and it is a common sight to see a man come up with a fish
in his teeth and one in each hand. Cat-fish are great prizes. They are
often heavier than a man and require all a man’s strength to drag to
the top. Indeed it is by no means uncommon for a Lhota to struggle with
one of these enormous fish at the bottom till he is exhausted and
drowned. When anyone has landed a cat-fish he cuts it with his dao in
such a way that he will be able to recognize it and claim his share
when the catch is divided up. Small fish he strings on a slip of bamboo
at his waist. Every man who lands a cat-fish gets a specially big cut
from it, but the fish found in their stomachs are only eaten by old
people. Otherwise the whole catch of a village is divided up among the
members who came down to fish according to their age and importance.
Whether they came down or not a share is given to the Puthi and anyone
whose house has ever been “apotia.” [98]
Fish-traps are of various kinds. The most elaborate is that called osa,
which is used on the Doyang and consists of a V-shaped bamboo weir
pointing down-stream, with a long spout-like outlet, closed with stakes
set closely together, and roofed at the end so that fish cannot jump
out. The floor of the outlet is covered with bamboos laid lengthways,
so that a fish once caught in the rush of water can get no grip to work
up-stream, but is held by the current against the stakes at the bottom.
Another type, also called osa, is used on smaller streams and consists
of a semicircular weir of bamboo or piled-up stones, with gaps at
intervals, each gap being blocked with a strong bamboo basket from
which, if a fish is once swept in, it cannot escape against the stream.
This kind of trap is particularly successful if otters fishing in the
pool above drive the fish down, a curious parallel to the way in which
Biscayan sardine fishers used to depend on porpoises to drive the
shoals of sardines into their nets. A third type used on moderate-sized
streams is called eyinga. This consists of a bamboo weir right across
the river and another weir with a big opening in the middle about
twenty yards lower down. Fish feeding their way up-stream in the
evening pass through the gap, which is closed at night, shutting the
fish in. A rough inner fence of bamboo is built along the lower weir,
and the fish trying to jump over on their return down-stream are caught
between the two fences. Fish weirs are in operation throughout the cold
weather, till they are swept away by the first big flood. The task of
building a weir is not one which can be entered upon without due
precautions. For three days beforehand the builder must not speak to
strangers and must refrain from sexual intercourse. On the last morning
neither he nor any of the men who are to help him may kill anything,
and the working party while engaged on their task may speak to each
other but to no one else at all, whether of their own village or not. A
man begins by helping his father, or one of his father’s friends, when
he is a boy, and gradually grows up to be the owner or joint owner of a
weir himself. Were a man who had never done so before to take it into
his head to go down and build a fish-trap he would surely die. When he
was sleeping near his trap at night the deity of the stream, the Water
Master (Tchhüpfuo), would come along and look at the soles of his feet
and see that they were not white like the soles of men who spend much
time in the water. Then he would cause illness to come upon him so that
he would die. In a few villages a small hand-trap (naching) is set in
swampy pools for mud-fish. It consists of a small bamboo basket entered
by an inverted funnel, so that a fish once in cannot find the way out.
When the rivers are high fishing-rods (ngoko) made of bamboo are used,
with a line made of twisted chütsung bark, the bark used for
bow-strings. Hooks (mukhu) are either bought at a shop or made out of
umbrella wire. It is unlucky to catch a kind of fish called süwo with
the rod and line. Anyone who does so splits the fish in half lengthways
and lays the two halves on the ground. He then goes home by a road
other than the road by which he came. Were he to go home by the road he
came he would meet and be killed by a tiger or leopard. This fish can
be eaten without any precautions if it is caught in any other way.
Where a stream is divided into two channels with an island in the
middle, one channel is often blocked with a temporary weir and all the
water diverted down the other. The fish in the blocked channel can then
be caught by hand. When a stream is both cold and highly coloured the
fish appear to lose their vitality and large numbers are caught by hand
in holes and cracks. [99]
Food.
Rice is the staple food, but some relish, even if it be only jungle
leaves boiled with chilies and salt, is always eaten with it. Meat is
preferred if obtainable, but the Lhota will eat most things at a pinch.
His diet includes the meat of all domestic animals and most wild
animals and birds, fish, both fresh and dried, bee and hornet grubs,
large spiders, a kind of beetle, white ants, cultivated plants and
innumerable jungle leaves and berries. Certain things are forbidden,
but villages near the plains are much less particular in this respect
than those on the inner ranges. The general reason why certain animals
and birds are not eaten is either that they are obviously unclean or
because they are thought likely to impart their properties to the eater
or to his children. Generally speaking old people can eat things which
young people cannot, because it does not much matter what happens to
them and in any case they will have no more children. Tigers and
leopards are absolutely forbidden to all because they eat men. Leopard
cats can be eaten by old people who no longer cultivate. Were a young
man to eat it he would get poor crops. Wild dog if eaten causes a
raging thirst. Phiyosao of Akuk ate only a little of the skin of one,
but he had to leave the village school because he could never sit
through a lesson without going out for a drink. Whoever eats or even
kills an otter will never be able to get his fields to burn properly.
[100] None but very old people may touch, much less eat, either the big
or little flying squirrel (Petaurista yunnanensis and Pteromys
aboniger). Anyone who does so will frequently be guilty of indecent
behaviour with the opposite sex of his own clan. Several kinds of birds
are forbidden. The Large Streaked Spiderhunter (Arachnothera magna) is
only eaten by very old people “because it is such a very funny-looking
bird, and has such a very long beak.” The local species of minivet
(Pericrocotus brevirostris) is forbidden to all because the cocks are
supposed to have got their scarlet markings from being splashed with
human blood. The Velvet-fronted Blue Nuthatch (Sitta frontalis) goes
about in little flocks and is such a confiding little bird that if one
is killed the rest of the flock will wait near till they are killed
too. Therefore if a man were to eat one, one death in his household
would be followed by a series of deaths. A solitary old man or woman
can, of course, eat this bird with impunity. The Whitecapped Redstart
(Chimarrhornis leucocephalus) and Whiteheaded Babbler (Gampsorhynchus
rufulus) are not eaten because they would cause the eater to become
grey-headed. Parrots and crow-tits (Parodoxornis) are not eaten because
of the shape of their beaks. The eater’s children would be
everlastingly pinching their friends. Scimitar babblers (Pomatorhinus)
if eaten would make the eater unable to remember his dreams and so
deprive him of an important guide in life. The clan of anyone who ate a
sun-bird (Æthopyga) would dwindle in numbers, for sun-birds used to be
as big as fowls, but are now the smallest of all birds. Swiftlets and
swallows are never still. The children of anyone who ate the flesh of
these birds would be idle and always wanting to run about and play. The
flesh of the Tree or House Sparrow is said to cause the itch. The
Red-headed Trogon (Harpactes erythrocephalus) is not eaten because it
is supposed to have got its brilliant colouring from human blood.
Owlets (Scops) are not eaten owing to the extraordinary belief that
they hatch their eggs by lying on their backs on them. The nightjar
when disturbed only flies a short way and then settles on the ground
again as if inviting one to follow. In this way it used to lead men on
and on like a will-o’-the-wisp till they found themselves in an ambush
and were killed. Therefore nightjars are not eaten. The Green Magpie
(Cissa chinensis) is not eaten owing to a supposed habit of sitting on
the bamboo erections built over graves. The loud laughing cry of the
Himalayan White-crested Laughing Thrush (Garrulax leucolophas) is
particularly sudden and startling. Were a man to eat its flesh he would
become nervous in the jungle and would jump whenever a twig or a leaf
dropped near him. The cry of the Long-tailed Broadbill (Psarisomus
dalhousiæ) is a sign of rain, and whoever eats its flesh will always
have bad weather when he goes to work in his fields. The hoopoe is such
a curious bird that to eat it might mean disaster to the clan. Hawks
are continually dropping excreta. Whoever ate one would spit
continually. [101] The Rufous-bellied Hawk Eagle (Lophotriorchis
kieneri) is forbidden to all but old people who expect to have no more
children, for sores appear on the heads of the eater’s children. The
two species of Racket-tailed Drongo (Dissemurus paradiseus and Bhringa
remifer) are only eaten by old people, for as they have two very long
conspicuous tail-feathers, so whoever ate their flesh would only have
two children. The Indian Roller, commonly called the Blue Jay, is only
eaten by old people, for the children of the eater would be as noisy as
the bird itself. Ashy Swallow-Shrikes (Artamus fuscus) have a habit of
sitting on branches in rows, each bird touching its neighbour. It is
therefore eaten by none but very old people, for were any young man or
woman to eat it he or she would never be able to sit alone, but would
always want to go and sit cuddled up against one of the other sex, a
habit full of possibilities of trouble. The flesh of the Great Indian
Hornbill (Dichoceros bicornis) is absolutely forbidden to members of
the Tompyaktserre phratry, and is very rarely eaten by members of other
phratries. The bird has a croaking note, and were a man to whom its
flesh is forbidden to eat it he would die of violent hiccoughs. Of
reptiles the python is eaten by all in the villages near the plains,
but elsewhere it is only eaten by old people. (Even villages near the
plains never speak of it as “python” (ongam) when talking of it as an
article of diet, but always call it by the politer name of sosiyo,
“long meat.”) It is believed that black marks are liable to appear on
the back of the eater, who will be semi-paralysed and only able to move
his body slowly like a python. A Rephyim man called Lobenthang is
supposed to have been affected in this way. Snakes other than the
python are forbidden to all. Old women may eat the same things as old
men, but there are a few kinds of meat which men may eat, but young and
middle-aged women may not. These include serow, wild mithan, buffalo,
bear, elephant, monkey, white-browed gibbon (“huluk”) and pangolin.
Most of these are forbidden for no reason which is known now, [102] but
gibbon is prohibited because these animals are supposed to have no more
than a single young one once in nine years, and this peculiarity would
assuredly pass to the eater. In some villages these prohibitions are
only observed at the time of pregnancy.
Rice is invariably cooked separately from the meat or whatever is to be
eaten with it. Meat and vegetables are boiled together with a lavish
allowance of chilies and salt. Practically all food is boiled, though
maize is roasted and eaten cold and plantains are roasted in their
skins. A very favourite relish is bamboo pickle (dhrüchong) made of the
hearts of young bamboo shoots pounded up with water and then dried, and
boiled again when required. Though the Lhota prefers his food fresh he
will eat both meat and fish which is pretty far gone. The flesh,
entrails, blood and skin of an animal are eaten—in fact, practically
everything except the hair. The men who went to France with the Naga
Labour Corps thought our method of cleaning an animal and throwing away
the offal most wasteful. Meat is stored by cutting it into small pieces
and smoking it over the fire. In this way it will keep for a year.
Drink.
To deprive a Lhota of his “madhu” (soko) would be like depriving a
British workman of both his beer and tea. The Lhota only drinks water
if he can get nothing else. He drinks “madhu” both at meals and between
meals. It is made as follows. Rice is boiled in the ordinary way and
spread on a mat to cool. A cake of yeast (vamhe) is then broken up and
well mixed with it, and the rice put to ferment in a basket lined with
leaves. Next day the liquor begins to run off and is collected in a
bamboo “chunga.” This is zutsü (Assamese “rohi”), the most potent form
of “madhu.” When new it is the colour of rather greenish water. If kept
it will remain good for five or six months, gradually increasing in
strength and turning a pale sherry colour. It is this form of “madhu”
which is always offered to guests of importance. In some villages of
the Northern Lhotas the rice is not put into a basket to ferment, but
into a vat, a hollow section of bamboo being placed upright in it to
collect the zutsü, which is allowed to drain off for three days. The
fermented rice from which the zutsü has been drained off is put into a
“madhu-sieve” (cham) and hot or sometimes cold water is poured on to
it. It is well kneaded, and the resulting brew is chemcho (Assamese
“saka madhu”), the usual Lhota drink, and is of about the potency of
light beer. Sometimes, especially among the Southern Lhotas, millet,
giant millet or Job’s tears, or a mixture of maize and rice, is used
instead of rice for making “madhu.” The yeast is made as follows. Rice
is ground into flour and wetted and kneaded into dough. To this a
little old yeast is added, and either the water from crushed phyushako
bark, or from the crushed leaves of yimerhe or shingwo. The dough with
this added is again well kneaded and divided into cakes about the size
of penny buns. These dry of themselves and remain good for six or seven
months.
The mild form of rice beer called in Assamese “pita madhu,” which is so
popular among the Angamis, is hardly made by the Lhotas except at
harvest. A little unhusked rice is kept damp until it sprouts, and is
then dried. Husked rice is ground into flour and put into a vat with
hot water. Next day when it has become cold the dried sprouted rice is
ground up and mixed with a little yeast and added to the water. This
ferments and is ready for drinking next day. It is drunk diluted with
water and is called etha soko.
Medicine.
Illness is generally ascribed to evil spirits (tsandhramo) or the
wandering of the patient’s soul (omon), who accordingly calls in a
medicine man (ratsen) to extract from his body the bit of earth or wood
or hair which the evil spirit put there, or causes a ceremony to be
performed to call back his soul. A few medicines are, however, known.
Fat pork is eaten as an aperient. For an emetic, chicken dung and rat
dung are whipped up with water and the mixture is drunk—probably as
effective an emetic as any known to science. For diarrhœa the remedies
are roasted goat’s hoof or the gall of either cow or pig. For
stomach-ache and intestinal worms an infusion of the bark of nshitong
(Stereospernum chelonoides) is drunk. For indigestion and stomach
troubles in general a little of the dried upper stomach of the
porcupine is ground up and taken mixed with water, or a poultice of
wild lemon leaves (tsoshü) or the crushed leaves of Maesa indica
(tsandhrammozü, lit. “devil’s medicine”) is put over the affected part.
For a cough the green pentagonal-shaped berries of the yenkuti tree are
chewed, or a berry called riko is ground up and taken with “rohi
madhu.” The yenkuti berry is also used as a tonic for weak children.
Bat’s flesh is another tonic for children whose mothers cannot suckle
them properly. For headache the leaf of the kizu tree (Bischoffia
javanica) is laid on the forehead. For wounds the commonest remedy is a
poultice of the ground-up bark of young shoots of the nungnung tree
(Callicarpa arborea roxb., fam. Verbenaceæ). This has the effect of
stopping bleeding. The mashed-up leaves of the pontengcho tree have the
same effect. A bush called temphak (Rhus semialata) provides two
medicines. The juice of the berries is a cure for stomach-ache, and a
cooling lotion for use in cases of chicken pox and smallpox is prepared
from the pounded leaves. The gall of the python is said to cure fever
and intestinal troubles. A lotion made from Taraktogenos kurzii
(hmhmti) bark is used to disinfect wounds. If maggots get into a wound
in an animal a mash of pounded giant woodlouse (sharhi) is applied.
Soot (live) is applied for skin diseases. For burns the ash of the
leaves of the woropentung tree is applied. For dog-bite a whisker of
the dog which bit the man is singed and put on the wound. Another
example of the “hair of the dog” is the practice of drinking very hot
“rohi madhu” as a remedy for drunkenness. To bring a boil to a head a
little yeast (vamhe) is damped and rubbed over it. When ready it is
lanced with a sharp splinter of bamboo. To get rid of warts a
black-and-yellow beetle called potso tsiro (“god’s mithan”) is crushed
on them. This causes them to fester and disappear. Goître is not common
except in Are. When it occurs it is regarded as being due to drinking
water from a spring near which plants with bulbous roots grow. The only
known remedy is to run a red-hot umbrella wire through the goître, but
this heroic measure is rarely employed. Most sufferers prefer the
disease to the cure. For soreness of the eyes the leaves of the
mongsentung are crushed up and held to the face so that the fumes reach
the eye. For a sprain of any kind the great remedy is to draw blood. In
the case of slight sprains the affected place is scratched and made to
bleed and a leech put on to suck. For more serious sprains or
contusions the swelling is cupped. The instrument used is a serow horn.
The base is smoothed down so that it will lie closely against the skin,
and a small hole is bored near the tip of the horn, round which a thin,
slightly withered leaf is wrapped. The skin is pricked with a splinter
of bamboo and the horn being placed in position the blood is sucked up
into it by the hole near the top. The thin leaf allows the air to be
sucked from the interior of the horn, but acts as an efficient valve
when the operator stops to take breath. This method of cupping is used
for sprains, bruises and dropsy, in fact in any case where it is
desired to reduce a swelling. In cases of snake-bite the limb affected
is first tightly bound above the bite. An infusion of the bark of a
tree called nungatsung is rubbed on the legs as a protection against
leech-bites.
Drugs.
Home-grown tobacco is cured by drying the leaves in the sun for three
or four days. They are then stamped and rolled with the feet and again
dried. The result is a coarse-smoking tobacco, very hot to the tongue
and difficult to keep alight. Hence the popularity of cheap cigarettes
among boys nowadays. The short pipe (tsintsanmukukhu) is simply a short
section of bamboo with a small bamboo tube stuck in the side of it, a
few lines being sometimes scratched on the bowl by way of
ornamentation. The big pipe (murimukukhu) is a more elaborate affair,
with a bowl cut out of soft black stone and set in a wooden base
forming one piece with the stem, which is bored with a hot iron and
ends in a small bamboo mouth-piece. From the bowl a small bamboo tube
some four inches long runs down through the wooden base into a section
of bamboo about five inches long. This is detachable and is kept full
of water when the pipe is in action. All the smoke is drawn through the
water, which becomes nothing but very dirty diluted nicotine. This foul
liquid is carefully kept and sipped now and again as a pick-me-up. If
he does not take his big pipe with him when he goes down to his fields
a man will often take a little gourd of this stuff. Though they are in
such close touch with the plains, opium eating is unknown in Lhota
villages, a great contrast with the Aos and Konyaks. Betel nut is
chewed with “pan” and lime in the villages near the plains. Lime used
to be made locally from the ground-up shells of freshwater snails, but
is now bought in the plains.
A remarkable number of suicides by poisoning take place among the
Lhotas. For this the root of a common flowering plant called rhisa is
used. This poison has a very strong taste and cannot be given to
another man without his knowledge. Mixed with boiled rice it is used as
rat poison. Tradition has it that men of standing used to be poisoned
by their enemies through the agency of old women and children, and a
man once told the writer that he was nearly poisoned in that way. But
no authentic case of murder by poisoning appears ever to have been
known. [103]
Games.
Wrestling and running are not much indulged in, but both high jump
(untsongeyen) and long jump (eyenda) are popular. For the former the
competitors run straight at the jump and clear it with their feet
together, the “scissor” style of jumping being unknown. A good jumper
can clear a reed the height of his own chin. For the long jump a flat
stone is put in position to take off from, and the mark which counts is
that made by the jumper’s feet in landing, whether he falls backwards
or not. For the “jump-and-kick” (nshü) the jumper makes a standing jump
and while in the air kicks with both feet together at some mark such as
a leaf stuck on the end of an upright spear. It is quite common for a
man to be able to kick a mark as high above his head as he can reach
with his hand. A variety of this (choanshü) is one in which the jumper
takes a standing jump from one leg and kicks the mark with the foot
from which he jumped—a most difficult feat. Putting the weight
(olungeyen) is done either with one hand in the English manner or with
both hands from above the head.
A game called khurocho in which sides are taken is played with seeds
like big flat chestnuts obtained from the large bean-like pods of the
sword bean (khuro). These seeds are also the Lhota substitute for soap.
The game is played at sowing time on coming back to the village in the
evening. There are generally three or four players a side, though there
may be as many as seven or eight. A number of seeds equal to the number
of players on each side are set up on edge in a row with their edges
touching. About three yards from them and parallel to them a line
called epfu [104] is scratched on the ground. A yard behind epfu
another line called esi is marked, and behind that at intervals of a
yard two more lines called sichemo and sikao. Each side has an innings
in turn, while the other side puts back the seeds which are knocked out
of place. Each member of the side which is in throws at the line in
turn with another seed and tries to knock away every seed in the line.
The first throws from epfu, and if some member succeeds in knocking
away all the seeds in the line, the side moves back to esi and throws
from there, and so on to sikao, from which it works back to sichemo,
esi and epfu and begins again, till it happens that no one in the side
succeeds in knocking away all the seeds, when the side is out and the
other side comes in. A seed is not counted as knocked out unless it is
knocked at least a cubit from the line of seeds. The thrower may stride
forward as far as he likes provided his back foot is on the line from
which his side is throwing. This game appears to resemble that known
among the Manipuris as kang. [105]
A game also called khurocho, but entirely different though the same
seeds are used, is played in Yimpang and seems to be peculiar to that
village. [106] The players are usually two a side. The seeds are laid
in pairs one on the top of another in two converging lines meeting in
an apex about two yards from the mark at which the spinner squats. The
player holds a seed in the palm of his left hand and with a flick of
his right forefinger spins it at the lines of seeds. The object is to
knock as many of the top seeds off as possible. If a bottom seed of a
pair is knocked out of place it counts as a miss. One side uses one
line and the other the other for scoring their points, which is done
with a bit of wood laid between the pairs to mark the number of top
seeds knocked off by that side. It does not matter from which line they
are knocked off, though the spinner must hit one or both of the two
pairs nearest him, and not break the line in the middle. Whichever side
is able to move its mark up from the bottom to the top of a line first
wins.
Tops (phiro) shaped like double cones are made of hard wood. The string
is wound round one cone and the end held in the fingers. The top is
then thrown either underhand or overhand and the string jerked back
while it is still in the air. The object is to knock over someone
else’s top which is already spinning. Tops are spun at and just after
sowing time. The Changs attach some special significance to
top-spinning. All indulge in the sport at and just after sowing, but a
man who spins a top at any other time is fined by his fellow-villagers.
Lhotas inflict no fine, but the custom is that tops should be spun only
at the time mentioned. Another game, if game it can be called, is a
competition to see who can eat most fat pork and salt. Toys are
unknown, though little boys carry miniature bamboo spears in imitation
of their fathers, and little girls carry sticks or stones wrapped in a
cloth on their backs as mother carries the baby. Notches are often cut
on the edges of the beds in the champo, and little boys play a game
(ekhirandhapen) in which they say, “bom, bom,” as they touch each
notch, beginning at the end of the line, the object being to see how
far you can get without taking a fresh breath.
Music.
Besides songs, of which some account has been given in the section on
language, the operations of reaping, threshing and carrying up the crop
are accompanied by simple wordless chants. Only the proper chant which
tradition sanctions may be sung. Were a man to use the wrong one, the
reaping chant while threshing, for instance, the listening spirits of
the fields (Rangsi) would be displeased and refuse him their blessings.
Three varieties of musical instrument are used. Of these the simplest
is the trumpet (phupphu), consisting merely of a bamboo tube about
sixteen inches long, from which a bellowing noise can be produced. A
more elaborate type of phupphu has a tube about four and a half feet
long of light wood from which the pith has been removed, terminating in
a trumpet-shaped piece of gourd. The Lhota has an accurate ear for
music, and with this he can give wonderful imitations of bugle calls.
But the instrument upon which he is most expert is the flute (philili
or phiphili). This consists of a thin bamboo tube about forty inches
long, open at both ends, with a small square mouthpiece cut about two
inches from the thick end. [107] The player either sits down or lies on
his back, with his right wrist resting on the ground. With the palm or
one of the fingers of his left hand he stops up the broad end, and
using the mouthpiece like that of a flute, produces a rather pleasing
tootling tune by opening or closing the small end with the middle
finger of his right hand. This instrument is a favourite one with young
bucks, who lie on their backs in the “morung” and tootle the names of
their lady-loves in simple tunes. In every village a particular
combination of notes represents the name of each fair one, and strange
though it may seem, no one listening ever seems to have any doubt as to
what lady’s fame is being celebrated.
Daily Life.
The family get up before dawn, the wife being the first to blow up the
fire, set the pot on to boil and open the door. After a meal all go
down to the fields, taking with them “madhu,” cold rice and some cooked
meat or vegetables. This the family eat while they take a short rest in
the middle of the day in the field-house. The evening meal is eaten
when they come back from the fields. After that it is soon time for
bed. When the harvest is in there is less work, and men go away on
short trading tours, or make up hunting parties, while the women stay
at home and weave and gossip.
PART III
LAWS AND CUSTOMS
Exogamy—Polity and Village Organization—Property—Inheritance—
Adoption—Settlement of Disputes—Oaths—Friendships—War and
Head-hunting—Slavery—Position of Women.
The Lhota tribe may fairly be said to have an exogamous system which is
in the process of breaking down. There are three phratries divided into
clans (chibo) which are in some cases further split up into kindreds
(mhitso, lit. “tail”). Strictly speaking a man ought to take his wife
from a phratry other than his own. On this Lhota opinion is quite
clear. On the other hand, marriage between members of different clans
is allowed everywhere and is especially common among the Southern
Lhotas, though it is viewed with a certain amount of disapproval by the
conservative members of the tribe. In some villages, again, chiefly
among the Southern Lhotas, marriage between members of different
kindreds of the same clan is permitted. The reason for these
innovations—for innovations of the last three or four generations they
are believed to be—is that a man’s choice of a wife is limited, for he
is almost forced by circumstances to take one from his own village, or
at any rate from a neighbouring village. A man in search of a bride
naturally thinks first of marriageable girls whom he knows of near
home. The parents of a girl, too, usually much prefer that she should
marry a man in their own village, sometimes because they are fond of
her, but more often because they want her to come in and give a helping
hand in the house or look after them when they are ill. The Lhota
marriage-price system is another potent factor in reducing a man’s
field of choice. The bridegroom naturally does not want to go and work
for a father-in-law in a distant village where he will have to live
among strangers, with no chance of keeping an eye on his own fields and
those of his parents. The money part of the marriage price too is
always paid in instalments and never in a lump sum, for a father fears
that were he to take a lump sum he would be regarded as selling his
daughter, as indeed he is to all intents and purposes. It is therefore
convenient to have a son-in-law close at hand, where his memory can be
conveniently jogged when instalments get overdue.
The following are the phratries and clans of the tribe, the clans which
are regarded by Lhotas as having an extraneous origin being marked with
an asterisk:—
PHRATRY. CLAN.
Tompyaktserre. Kikung.
Ovung.*
Tsangsükikung.*
Pathong.
Chami.
Worore.*
Chongyichami.*
Tsoboi.
Kuwang.
Izumontserre. Nguli.
Sempinguli.*
Sityingonguli.*
Mozoi.*
Rangpang.*
Shetri.
Humtsoi.
Kithang.
Mipongsandre. Muri.
Othui.
Eni.*
Thangwe Eni.*
Lapung.
Chorothui.*
Ezong.
Tsangle.
Yanthang.*
Moyoyanthang.*
The three phratries, Tompyaktserre, Izumontserre and Mipongsandre, are
said to be descended from three brothers, Limhachan, Izumontse, and
Rhankhantang, or Rankhanda, [108] who were the first men to come out of
the earth. The origins of the different clans, so far as tradition
relates, are as follows. In the Tompyaktserre phratry, Pathong, Chami
and Tsoboi are said to have been the three sons of Kikung. Pathong is
said to have taken his father’s head at the instigation of a friend
whose name is not recorded. The Kikung clan claim a vague headship over
the phratry, and say that in the good old days they alone had the right
to wear ivory armlets and keep mithan. The Ovung and Tsangsükikung
clans, the latter of which is found chiefly at Yimbang, are said to be
descended from “jungle men” caught by members of the Kikung clan long,
long ago. Chongyichami and Worore are regarded as closely related to
the Chami clan, the former being descended from Aos absorbed when the
Lhotas invaded the Ao country. The Worore or “bird clan” are
particularly interesting. They are found only in Pangti, the last Ao
village taken over by the Lhotas, where tradition says that the two
tribes lived together for some time. The story of the origin of the
clan is identical with that told about the Ao “bird clan,” Wozakumrr,
and there can be little doubt that the Worore are really Aos who have
been absorbed into the Lhota tribe. The story is that a Chami woman was
sitting weaving outside her house one day when a hornbill flew over her
head and dropped one of its tail feathers in her lap. She tucked the
feather into her waist, and by it became pregnant and bore a son who
was the ancestor of the Worore clan. Among the Aos no member of the
Wozakumrr clan may kill a hornbill or even see the dead body of one
that has been killed. Nor may he eat its flesh or wear its feathers
till they are thoroughly dry. In common with the rest of the
Tompyaktserre phratry the Worore clan do not eat the flesh of the
hornbill, but otherwise they are under no special prohibition with
regard to it. There appears to be no tradition relating to the Kuwang
clan, which is regarded as closely related to the Tsoboi clan, and is
often called Tsoboi-kuwang. The names of the two kindreds of the Ovung
clan—Worosaeromo and Worosanromo—mean respectively “those who make bird
platforms” and “those who do not make bird platforms.” One kindred
makes a little platform on which the cooking-pot and remains of the
chicken are left behind after a “genna” in the fields, and one does
not. No reason is known for this divergence of custom.
The original clans of the Izumontserre phratry are Nguli, Shetri and
Humtsoi, descended from and named after three brothers. The Sempinguli
clan is only found in a few villages such as Pangti, Lungla, Yemkha and
Lungithang, and is said to be descended from Sema fugitives who
attached themselves to the Nguli clan. The Sityingongnuli form another
small clan reputed to be descended from a “jungle man” caught in a
snare. They have the reputation of being expert snarers. The Mozoi clan
is said to be descended from another “jungle man” caught by some
members of the Nguli clan who were “poisoning” a river for fish. The
Rangpang clan in turn is believed to be descended from a slave or
orphan brought up by one of the Mozoi clan, and is often called
Mozoirangpang. The origin of the Kithang clan is obscure. One tradition
classes them as Izumontserre and another as Tompyaktserre. They take
wives from all clans but their own nowadays, and have no tradition that
any phratry was ever forbidden to them.
In the Mipongsandre phratry the Muri and Othui clans are regarded as
descendants of two cousins named Muri and Othui who lived when the
Lhotas were settled near Lazemi, [109] and were the
great-great-great-great-grandsons of Longchethang, the first man to dig
himself out of the earth according to one tradition. The Eni clan is
believed to be descended from a slave or “jungle man” brought up by
Othui. Thangwe in turn are descended from a “jungle man” caught by Eni
when he was in the jungle cutting a species of bamboo called ticho. It
is believed that in the year when these bamboos seed and die a large
number of the Thangwe clan die. Members of the Thangwe clan are not
prohibited from using these bamboos in any way. The Lapung clan, which
is practically confined to Lotsü village, is regarded as closely akin
to the Thangwe clan. The small Chorothui clan originated as follows. An
old man of the Othui clan [110] was in the act of sacrificing a pig,
when on drawing back his spear for the thrust the butt came in contact
with someone behind. The old man looked round and found a stranger
standing watching. He took the stranger to his house and fed him, but
the only reply he could get to his questions as to whence he had come
was the one word “Chorocho”—“I came down,” i.e. from the sky. From this
the name of the clan is derived. Ezong and Tsangle are regarded as
original clans, sprung from cousins or brothers of Muri and Othui.
Yanthang means “Rengma,” and the clan is descended from Rengmas who
rejoined the Lhotas after the two tribes had split up. The Moyoyanthang
clan is only found in Lakhuti. Their ancestors are said to have been a
wandering band of Rengmas who were only allowed to settle there on
condition they never claimed any rights in the village. To this day
they can never provide a Puthi and may not take any part in the dance
at the building of a new “morung.” This is a unique example among the
Lhotas of a particular clan being regarded as of inferior status. With
this exception all clans have equal rights, whether they spring from a
supposed extraneous origin or not.
The number of clans which tradition says sprang from “jungle men”
(orakyon) is remarkable. These “jungle men,” as the Lhota word
literally means, are said to have been like Nagas to look at. They are
generally heard of in stories as being found hiding in trees or
stealing from traps. Possibly they represent aboriginal inhabitants
encountered by Nagas at some period of their migrations.
Some clans are still undivided. Others have split up into two kindreds
which intermarry and call themselves “big” and “little,” e.g.
Ezongterowe and Ezongtsopowe. Others, again, are divided into many
kindreds, each called after some ancestor. The following are among the
kindreds of the Nguli clan—Yemkhashandre, Yemphuhore, Ritsenshandre,
Monglema, Pyakore, Yemtsore, Shungentsore, Yamphentangre. Besides this
arrangement of phratries, clans and kindreds within the tribe there is
a system of inter-tribal corresponding clans existing in all the Naga
tribes with which the writer is acquainted. A Lhota will say, for
instance, that his clan is “the same” as some particular Ao clan. That
Ao clan in turn will say that they are “one clan” with some particular
Konyak clan, which in turn has a corresponding Phom clan, and so on.
For instance, Lhota Chami corresponds to Ao Chamirr and Sema Yepothomi;
Lhota Kikung corresponds to Ao Longchacharr, Sema Shohemi and Rengma
Apungza; Lhota Muri corresponds to Ao Pongrr and Sema Chishilimi; Lhoti
Nguli corresponds to Ao Alangcharr, Sema Wotsami [111] and Rengma
Ketenini, and so on. A Sema who comes and settles in Are becomes a
Lhota and incorporates himself into the clan corresponding to his old
clan. If he or his children go back they slip into their old clan
again. In cases where a Lhota marries a woman of another tribe he may,
however, take a wife from a corresponding clan. For the clans being of
different tribes they are regarded as being so widely separated, though
corresponding, that there is no harm in intermarriage. But it is quite
possible that intermarriage was once forbidden, for Changs who keep old
customs very strictly will not intermarry with a corresponding Ao clan.
The Lhota table of relationships is given herewith in the form
suggested by Professor Rivers.
RELATIONSHIPS.
Father. opo. | Son. otsotyungo.
Mother. oyo. | Daughter. otsolovo.
Elder brother (M.S.) } ota. | Younger brother (M.S.). onyuro.
(W.S.). } |
Elder sister (M.S.) } ota. | Younger sister (M.S.). oyilo.
(W.S.). } | (W.S.). onyiro.
Father’s elder brother. oporamo. | Younger brother (W.S.). opye.
Father’s younger brother. oporo (all Lhotas) or | Brother’s son (M.S.). otsotyungo.
oponunghowo (Northern |
Lhotas). |
Father’s elder brother’s oyo or oyoramo. | Brother’s daughter otsolovo.
wife. | (M.S.).
Father’s younger brother’s oyo or oyonunghowo, or | Husband’s brother’s son. otsotyungo.
wife. oyoramo (if she be |
older than speaker’s |
mother). |
Father’s brother’s son. ota (if older | Husband’s brother’s otsolovo.
than speaker). | daughter.
onyuro (if younger | Brother’s son (W.S.). ongo.
than speaker). |
Father’s brother’s ota (if older than | Brother’s daughter oka.
daughter. speaker). | (W.S.).
oyilo (if younger than |
speaker). |
Father’s elder sister. onnoramo (Northern |
Lhotas). |
onno (Southern Lhotas). |
Father’s younger sister. onnoro or onnonunghowo |
(Northern Lhotas). |
onno (Southern Lhotas). |
Father’s elder sister’s omoramo (if of clan of | Wife’s brother’s son. orrho (if brother’s
husband. speaker’s mother). | wife of same clan
| as speaker).
onung (if not of clan | onung (if brother’s
of speaker’s mother). | wife not of
| speaker’s clan).
Father’s younger sister’s omonunghowo (if of clan | Wife’s brother’s orrhovo (if brother’s
husband. of speaker’s mother). | daughter. wife of same clan
| as speaker).
onung (if not of clan | orrham (if brother’s
of speaker’s mother). | wife not of speaker’s
| clan).
Father’s sister’s son. orrho. |
Father’s sister’s daughter. orrhovo. | Sister’s son (M.S.). orrho.
Mother’s brother. omo. | Sister’s daughter (M.S.). orrhovo.
Mother’s brother’s wife. ongi (unless of same | Husband’s sister’s child. ongo (m.) and oka (f.).
clan as speaker, when |
whatever term blood |
relationship required |
would be used. |
Northern Lhotas). |
onno (Southern Lhotas). |
Mother’s brother’s son. omo. |
Mother’s brother’s oyonunghowo. |
daughter. |
Mother’s elder sister. oyoramo. | Sister’s son (W.S.). otsotyungo.
Mother’s younger sister. oyonunghowo. | Sister’s daughter (W.S.). otsolovo.
Mother’s sister’s husband. oporamo (if older than | Wife’s sister’s son. otsotyungo.
speaker’s father). |
oporo (if younger than | Wife’s sister’s daughter. otsolovo.
speaker’s father). |
Mother’s sister’s son. ota (if older than |
speaker). |
ongo (if younger than |
speaker). |
Mother’s sister’s daughter. ota (if older than |
speaker). |
oka (if younger than |
speaker). |
Father’s father. omotsü. | Son’s son (M.S.). } orrhe.
| (W.S.). }
Father’s mother. otyo (Northern Lhotas). | Son’s daughter (M.S.). } orrhevo
otsü (Southern Lhotas). | (W.S.). }
Mother’s father. omotsü. | Daughter’s son (M.S.). } orrhe.
| (W.S.). }
Mother’s mother. otyo (Northern Lhotas). | Daughter’s daughter
otsü (Southern Lhotas). | (M.S.). } orrhevo.
| (W.S.). }
Husband. orapfu. | Wife.
Wife’s father. omo. | Daughter’s husband.
| (M.S.). } eng.
| (W.S.). } omyako.
Wife’s mother. ongi (Northern Lhotas). |
onno (Southern Lhotas). |
Husband’s father. omo. | Son’s wife (M.S.). omi (Northern Lhotas).
| orrhovo (Southern
| Lhotas).
Husband’s mother. ongi (Northern Lhotas). | Son’s wife (W.S.). oka.
onno (Southern Lhotas). |
Wife’s elder brother. onung. | Sister’s husband (M.S.). onung.
Wife’s younger brother. onung nunghowo. | Sister’s husband (W.S.). orrhang.
Wife’s elder sister. orrhamm eramo. |
Wife’s younger sister. orrhamm nunghowo. |
Husband’s brother. orrhang. | Brother’s wife (M.S.). omi.
Husband’s sister. onung. | Brother’s wife (W.S.). onung.
Wife’s sister’s husband. ozi (if not of |
speaker’s clan). |
oporo or ota (if of |
speaker’s clan). |
Husband’s brother’s wife. ota (if older than |
speaker). |
oka (if younger than |
speaker). |
oyeni (if of same age |
as speaker). |
Son’s wife’s parents omo (m.) and ota or |
(M.S.). oka (f.). |
(W.S.). oporo, oporamo, ota or |
ongo (m.) according |
to age, and onung |
(f.). |
Sister’s daughter’s ota or ongo according
husband (M.S.). to age.
(W.S.). omyako.
Note.—For the sake of clearness only one word for mother (oyo) has been
given in the above list. But in speaking of women born in certain clans
the terms opfu, opfuramo, and opfununghowo are invariably used instead
of oyo, oyoramo, and oyonunghowo, irrespective of what clan their
husbands may belong to. These clans are all the clans of the
Tompyaktserre phratry, and the Ezong clan of the Mipongsandre phratry.
In speaking of women of the Nguli, Kithang, Sempinguli, Sityingonguli,
Shetri and Humtsoi clans the Northern Lhotas use oyo and its
derivatives, while the Southern Lhotas use opfu and its derivatives.
The custom with regard to women of the Yanthang, Moyoyanthang and
Tsangle clans varies in different villages. The Lhotas cannot account
for the existence of two terms for ‘mother,’ nor can they say why a
particular term is used in speaking of women born in a particular clan.
[112]
In ordinary conversation the general ongo, boy, and oka, lass, are used
instead of the formal terms otsotyungo and otsolovo. In the case of a
woman speaking of her brother’s child ongo and oka are invariably used
instead of otsotyungo and otsolovo in order to avoid any suggestion of
marital relations with her brother. The terms orapfu and eng are rarely
used in address, or when a man or woman is speaking of his or her own
wife or husband. Instead, okikhamo (m.) and okikhamm (f.), meaning
“house-mate,” are substituted.
Though they may be of a different phratry there are certain women whom
a man may not marry. (1) His mother’s sister’s daughter, even if his
mother’s sister has married into another clan, for he calls his
mother’s sister oyoramo (“big mother”) or oyonunghowo (“little
mother”); (2) his own sister’s daughter (orrhovo); (3) his father’s
sister’s daughter (orrhovo); but he can marry his mother’s brother’s
daughter (oyonunghowo). A man is rather expected to take his wife from
his mother’s clan. There is no fine for not doing so, but his mother’s
clan are likely to take offence. He is fined if, having taken one wife
from his mother’s clan, he takes a new one from another clan. The fine
amounts to about Rs. 5, and is called lolang ’ntyakma (the price of not
taking from the mother’s clan). A man is not bound to marry his
deceased brother’s wife, but he may do so if he wishes without paying
any marriage price. He may also marry his father’s widow provided that
she is not his own mother, but such marriages, though pretty common,
are viewed with a certain amount of disfavour. [113]
Polity and Village Organization.
Every village is an independent unit in the tribe. Leagues of villages
were formed for purposes of war, and in these cases the advice of the
most powerful village would naturally carry most weight. Thus Pangti
and Tsingaki respectively were the informal heads of leagues against
the Aos and Semas. But except for war no village ever acknowledged the
authority of any other village. There are very rarely definite
boundaries between the lands of different villages. In the case of
villages situated close to one another the lands of individuals of
either village are inextricably mixed up. The writer once asked a Lhota
why they had no village boundary disputes like Semas and Angamis, to
which he replied, “It would be a shameful thing. Every man knows where
his own land is, so how could there be a quarrel?” The fact that the
Lhotas do not suffer from shortage of land as the Semas and Angamis do
also helps to produce this peaceful state of affairs. In the days when
villages were constantly at war each village was ruled by a chief
(ekyung) assisted by an informal council of elders. The chieftainship
was hereditary in the family of the man who originally founded the
village, but did not at all necessarily pass from father to son. The
most suitable man became chief by force of character. His main function
was that of a leader in war, and his perquisite all the spoils brought
home from raids. In some villages he is said to have had the privilege
of the free labour of the village for his field two or three times a
year, but this right has not been exercised anywhere within living
memory and apparently lapsed before the Hills were taken over, if
indeed it ever existed. The Pax Britannica having put an end to his
raison d’être and its sole concomitant privilege, the post of ekyung
has virtually ceased to exist and the word even is rarely heard.
Villages are now managed by an informal council of old men and men of
influence, with headmen selected by Government through whom the village
is dealt with. The old men are appropriately called sotsoi
(meat-eaters), for they inflict fines of pork in petty cases and eat
the fine. Sotsoi are divided into two classes called tongti, the upper
division, and chochang, [114] the lower division. Under them is a
council of vague dimensions called pangi. Usually the village is run as
an undivided whole, but where the “khels” are big the tendency is for
the leading men of each “khel” to manage their affairs independently.
Among the Aos every village is divided up by an ancient and elaborate
system into working companies. The Lhota system is far simpler. Working
companies (yengaten) are composed of the children of neighbours. Boys
and girls work together and help in the fields of the parents of the
various members of the company when there is a pressure of work. Anyone
who is short of labour may hire a company for the day, giving them
their midday meal and a small wage.
Property.
Cattle, houses and so on are the property of the individual, but land
can be held either by the village, a “morung,” a clan, or an
individual. The land close to a village is usually waste land and
common property, as are the rights of “poisoning” in certain pools.
Every “morung” owns land which is the property of the “morung” as a
whole and not of any individuals in it. It is worked by the boys of the
“morung” and the produce used to buy meat for ceremonies such as the
rebuilding of the “morung.” Boys when they get married and leave the
“morung” have to pay a small fine of meat to their late companions as
compensation for the loss of labour. A very large proportion of the
land in the Lhota country is clan land, which is held in common by all
members of that particular clan in the village. A man who leaves a
village loses all right to clan land in the village, a far better
system than the Sema system by which a man claims, though usually in
vain, ancestral rights in clan land in a village in which his
great-great-grandfather was the last member of the family to live.
Every year the members of the clan in a Lhota village meet and
apportion out the land which each is to cut that year, the senior men
getting the bigger share. Strangely enough this delicate operation
never seems to result in a quarrel. Strictly speaking a man may not
sell land which he has inherited. When direct heirs fail the land
becomes clan land. Were this to go on indefinitely the whole of the
land in a village would in time become clan land, and no one would ever
be able to buy or sell land. To prevent this from time to time, when
the amount of common land becomes unwieldy, the clan meets and divides
it up among the members, who thus each become private owners of a
portion of it. The process then begins again. Heirlooms such as the
ancient daos and spears which the Lhota so prizes are held in trust by
the senior member of the clan in the village, provided he has done all
the social “gennas.” To alienate them would bring disaster on the whole
clan.
Inheritance.
Property is inherited exclusively by the male heirs. Failing sons or
grandsons, brothers, brother’s sons, first cousins in the male line,
and so on, inherit in that order. The need of the heirs is the primary
consideration, a system which in theory is almost ideal and in practice
works excellently. An actual example taken at random will make the
details more easily understood. A died, leaving a widow and three sons
B, C and D, of whom B was the oldest and D the youngest. Of the rice,
which was by far the most valuable part of the property, B got half a
granary, C one granary and D three granaries. What cash there was was
divided in the same proportions. D also got the house. In this case B
got least because he was married and independent and had done all his
social “gennas.” C got rather more than B because, though he was
married and independent, he had not finished his “gennas.” D got most
of all because he still had his marriage price to pay and all his
“gennas” to do, and had to live with and support his mother in his
father’s old house. The widow inherited nothing in her own right. Had
there been a married daughter she would have got nothing. An unmarried
daughter, however, would have lived with her mother and been supported
by D, who would have had his share increased accordingly. Had all the
sons been married either the widow would have been given enough to live
on and the rest shared by the sons, B getting slightly the largest
share, or supposing the widow were too old and feeble to work for
herself, she would either have been supported by all the brothers
jointly, or by one of them who would have been given a proportionately
larger share. In short, where one or more brothers have had their
marriage prices paid and have been launched into the world by their
father, they get less than a younger brother who has not had so much
spent on him. Had there been no widow the younger brother would have
gone to live with one of his elder brothers, who would have taken both
his share and his younger brother’s share of the property, and paid his
younger brother’s marriage price and launched him into the world as his
father would have done had he lived. [115] All land inherited from the
father would have been held in common, as described above. Debts are
inherited just as property is, and many a man inherits nothing else.
Where the assets exceed the debts the heirs pay the debts in proportion
to their shares of the assets.
Adoption.
Though so common among Changs and Semas, adoption is practically
unknown among the Lhotas. One reason is that there are very few people
poor enough to be willing to be adopted, and another that while among
the Semas and Changs an adopted man and his descendants become
practically the serfs of their adopter, among the Lhotas the chances of
material gain for the adopter are few. Adoption of a girl seems to be
unknown. There are generally relations of some kind ready to bring her
up and get her marriage price. But boys are very occasionally adopted.
Supposing A adopts B, he becomes to all intents and purposes A’s son,
and enters A’s clan, though he can never marry a woman from the clan
out of which he was adopted. A has to find a wife for B and pay his
marriage price, yet if B has a son, the son inherits B’s property, A
only inheriting if B has no sons. There is no ceremony of adoption.
Settlement of Disputes.
When a quarrel arises between two villages, messengers are sent to fix
a day, and if both sides so agree the elders of the respective villages
meet on the path half-way between the two villages and settle the
matter, exchanging drinks of “madhu” and eating together. If the
responsibility for the quarrel can be fixed on any individual he is
fined, and the fine either divided among the elders of both villages,
or given to the village against which the wrong was done. In the old
days villages such as Okotso and the Ao village of Nankam were in a
chronic state of war. It would occasionally happen that Okotso decided
to cut their fields which lay towards Nankam in the same year as Nankam
decided to cut their fields towards Okotso. Obviously cultivation would
be impossible for either side unless a peace of some kind were patched
up. The elders of both villages would feast together on the boundary,
and an armistice would be agreed upon to remain in force till those
fields were finally reaped, when the game of war would go on as before.
All preliminary negotiations between villages actually at war were
carried on by ambassadors (lantsalanpeng), of which there were two in
each village. These had a permanent safe-conduct, and it was believed
that to kill one would bring dire misfortune on the slayer and his
village. The same custom exists among Aos, Changs and Phoms.
In the case of disputes within the village both sides are summoned
before the elders, and what sounds like the prelude to a free fight
takes place. Both the parties, all the witnesses, and most of the
spectators talk at once at the top of their voices. However, after much
shaking of fists and stamping, and solemn affirmations from the one
side that they will never pay such a big fine, and from the other that
they will never accept such a small one, a settlement is arrived at.
Each side goes in company with the elders to the other’s house and
drinks “madhu” and promises not to quarrel again. This is regarded as
binding. In the old days if one party would not pay the fine agreed on,
the other party simply went and looted his property and took it.
Nowadays cases which cannot be settled in the village are dealt with in
court. Before the Hills were administered, murder was punished either
by turning the murderer out of the village or by taking the whole of
his property and dividing it among the rest of the village other than
the clan of the murdered man, who could not touch any of it. In no case
could any relations of the murdered man ever eat with the murderer. If
they did their teeth would fall out. Nor would the descendants of
either side eat together. This breach can never be healed, and there
are still families who cannot eat together. [116] For adultery the
guilty man had to hand over to the husband’s and woman’s families all
his clothes and personal ornaments and a cow or a large pig. The
husband could not himself take any of this fine, for it was the price
of his wife’s immorality. A clear distinction is drawn between adultery
by a man of the husband’s clan and adultery by a man of another clan.
The former offence is often condoned on the guilty party promising not
to repeat it, but a fine is invariably demanded for the latter offence.
A thief had to return the goods in full, or their equivalent, to the
owner, and pay a large pig or a cow to his clan. If he could not pay up
he was sold as a slave. No punishments other than fining or selling
into slavery or expulsion from the village were inflicted on
fellow-villagers. But a man of another village who broke a village
emung was put in the stocks and had to be ransomed by his friends. Naga
justice was decidedly crude. The elders accepted “presents” freely from
both sides and then favoured the most influential party. There once
lived a famous judge in the Ao village of Ungma who openly amassed a
considerable fortune from “presents.” Yet people came to him from all
over the Ao country, and he died universally respected and is still
regarded by the Aos as a model judge. His reputation chiefly rests on
the fact that none of his decisions were ever questioned! Hardly
believing that this could be due to their justice, the writer inquired
the reason, and found that Ungma had sworn that whosoever questioned
the decisions of their beloved judge, his village should be raided.
Ungma being the biggest Ao village, this threat effectively stifled
criticism. Troublesome children are sometimes punished by being whipped
across the stomach with nettles, or by having a nettle put in their
ears instead of a flower.
Oaths.
The oath is held in high regard among the Lhotas as it is among the
Angamis. A man who is accused of an offence on suspicion may clear
himself by taking an oath. The commonest form is for a man to bite a
tiger or leopard’s tooth and to swear that if he did such and such a
thing may a tiger or leopard kill him. The formula used is the same in
all cases, excepting, of course, that whatever offence the man is
accused of is inserted. For instance a man accused of adultery would
swear—
Ana itsongi nsopi: osi ana itsongi
I your wife with have not committed adultery; but I your wife with
sopi lina mharrki
committing adultery if am in the habit of, by a tiger
a-rhamtoksi yantaroki sena mi-hm
me allowing to be bitten all the village men bamboo shavings fire-stick
penphia a-mungitokle.
using for me let them keep emung.
In other words, may he be killed “apotia” by a tiger and the whole
village purify themselves with fire and keep emung for him. A few hairs
from the swearer’s head, with a little earth, are often bitten instead
of the tooth. In cases where the accusation is of stealing thread or
some such thing, a skein of thread being said by one side to be stolen,
and by the other side to be his own, a little of the thread is put with
the hair and the earth. A very solemn oath which entails a day’s emung
for the village is that on a leaf of the mingetung. The heaviest of all
is on a bonne bouche consisting of a little earth from the place used
by the boys of the “morung” as a latrine, a piece of wood from the
house of a man who has died “apotia,” a little earth from a grave and a
few hairs from the swearer’s head. This oath is very rarely taken, and
is thought to involve certain death for the swearer if taken falsely.
Land disputes are occasionally decided on oath, which is invariably
sworn on a little soil from the land in dispute. Whichever side will
take the oath gets the land. It is probably never knowingly taken
falsely, as all Lhotas firmly believe that whoever swears this oath
falsely will die before he can reap a harvest from the land he has
dishonestly gained. An ancient oath, which is only remembered by old
men, was taken on the huge boulder known as Deolung. Each side in turn
held an egg and swore by Deolung that their story was true. Whoever
went mad first lost! The custom was abandoned, it is said, “because it
was such a terrible oath.” The idea of making both sides swear and then
awaiting results resembles the Ao custom, by which both sides take the
same oath, and the decision goes to the party which suffers no loss of
any kind within thirty days, a system by which the party who is in all
probability guilty does, curiously enough, generally lose. A curious
instance came to my notice. The oath was taken in Ungma on the spot
specially associated with the deity of the wind. When the ceremony
began a gale blew up, so suddenly as to attract my attention in my
garden three miles away. Out of a village of six hundred houses thatch
was only blown from the roof of the houses of two men, and those were
the two principals on one side in the case. The blowing of thatch from
a man’s roof if he has taken an oath is looked upon by Aos as a sure
sign of false swearing. This story is true and other equally remarkable
instances are known to the writer.
Friendships.
Formal friendships are of great importance. Two men become friends
(okam) by exchanging gifts, consisting of half a pig, and a spear or
dao or some such present, a piece of iron invariably forming part of
the gift. It is usual for the sons of “friends” to become friends in
turn. A man will often possess friends of this kind belonging to
different villages, and frequently to a different tribe. When
travelling a man will stay in his okam’s house in each village he
reaches. He in turn will entertain any of his okams who come to his
village. A man may not kill his okam even if he belongs to a hostile
village. Should he happen to kill him in battle with a spear thrown at
a venture he will not take his head. Even if no gifts be exchanged, two
men of the same name regard one another as okams. I have known a man go
out of his way to entertain a stranger whom he had never met before
because he bore the same name as his dead son.
War and Head-hunting.
By putting a stop to head-hunting the British Government has profoundly
changed the mode of life of all the tribes in the administered area of
the Naga Hills. In the old days war was the normal and peace the
exceptional state of affairs. War between Lhota villages was rare, and
it was absolutely forbidden for one Lhota to take another Lhota’s head.
[117] But unless peace had been definitely arranged, any village of
another tribe was regarded as hostile and fair game. This never-ending
state of war affected every man, woman and child in their daily lives.
In the morning a band of young men fully armed scouted round the
village and had to report no enemy lying in wait near before any women
and children were allowed to leave the protection of the village fence.
All went down to the fields for the day’s work in a compact body, the
men fully armed, leaving behind the small children and old men and
women in the village with a guard. Careful watch, too, had to be kept
while work was going on in the fields, for a favourite method of attack
was to rush isolated family parties while they were weeding or cutting
the jungle. Like all Nagas the Lhota was very keen to take heads, but
preferred to do so with the minimum of risk to himself. A strong,
forewarned enemy was rarely attacked. Usually a party of raiders would
either lie in ambush by the village spring, and kill a woman as she
came down to take water, or rush an unsuspecting party working in their
fields, or cut off a straggler on some path. If a whole village turned
out to destroy another village a surprise attack at dawn was generally
attempted. Once the defenders had a few casualties or found the enemy
were through their fence they generally turned tail and fled in a wild
rout out at the other end of the village, leaving the wounded and aged
to the tender mercies of the raiders. Similarly, an attack was rarely
pressed home against a stout defence, and once the attackers began to
make for home the defenders followed them, cutting off stragglers.
Though heads were not taken, prisoners were captured in affrays between
Lhota villages, and were kept in the “morung” in a sort of stocks
consisting of a heavy log cut to receive a man’s ankle, with a bar of
“nahor” wood to keep the foot from being withdrawn. [118] These
prisoners had to be well fed and looked after till they were ransomed
by their friends. Akuk once, having captured a rich man from Pangti,
had to send a message to his relations asking that he might be ransomed
without further delay, as he drank so much that the village was
beginning to run short of “madhu.” Lhotas took the heads of men, women
and children indiscriminately, except those of infants who had not yet
cut their teeth. These were merely killed, for a head without teeth did
not count in a warrior’s toll of heads, and so was not worth cutting
off. A woman’s head, however, was regarded as a finer trophy than a
man’s, for women were likely to be carefully guarded. Ordinarily, from
each of the slain, the head, toes and fingers were taken. But if the
enemy were pressing close and there was no time to take the head, an
ear only would do as well. A Lhota [119] who died recently much desired
when he was young to marry a certain Phiro girl. The minx said she
would only accept him if he would take the head of a Rengma girl and
show it to her as a proof of his valour. This put the ardent lover in a
quandary, for, with the British established at Kohima and Wokha, it
appeared that he must either lose his well-beloved or take a head and
get into serious trouble. But a brilliant idea struck him. He caught an
unfortunate Rengma girl, cut off her ears without killing her, and
after giving this proof of his valour and devotion, triumphantly
married the Phiro girl.
When a raid had been decided upon, those who were to take part in it,
having slept apart from their wives the night before, assembled in the
morning at the ekyung’s house. There a cock and a pig were killed and a
meal eaten. If the cock squawked when its throat was being cut it was
regarded as a bad omen and the expedition was usually put off.
Similarly, anyone who hiccoughed when he was eating the pork stayed
behind, for if he went misfortune would befall him. The credit for
every head taken was shared equally by the men who got in first, second
and third spear, called respectively Lingta, Ethung and Kiwen. It did
not matter who actually cut off the head. The head, fingers and toes
were brought home wrapped in a cloth. When the party got within earshot
of their own village they began to chant “O Shamashari!” (“O we have
killed an enemy!”). The hearing of this in the distance was the signal
for wild excitement and uproar in the village. All streamed out to meet
the returning heroes and see the trophies, replying to each chant of “O
Shamashari!” with “O Imaiyali!” (“O we are glad [120]”). From each head
a few hairs were taken and put in a cleft stick which was set up
outside the village gate. The meaning of this is obscure. Lhotas call
it orrülama, deriving the word from orrü (“enemy”) and lama (“warm”),
and say that it means “warming the earth with an enemy’s head,” so that
the crops will grow and the village increase and multiply. The term may
be compared with humtselama (post-warmer), the piece of the scalp which
used to be nailed to the post of a new “morung.” [121] The writer has
made careful inquiries and can find no trace of any definite belief
that the spirits of dead enemies were in this way made to act as guards
of the village gate, though in some vague way they were believed to
help the village. When the heads were being brought in, anyone who
wished to do so and proposed to perform the proper ceremonies
afterwards could touch them with his spear and thereby share in the
credit of the raid. The procession of warriors went round the village,
and halting in front of the house of each man who had taken part in the
expedition sang for a few minutes. Then all the men went to the
“morung,” where the old men brought them food and “madhu,” and sat and
listened to their account of their exploits. Every man who had taken a
head or jabbed his spear into one had to pour a little “madhu” on the
ground and throw away a little rice before he could eat or drink
anything. This was an offering to the spirits of the slain enemies. It
was believed that if this was not done the “madhu chunga” and food
would be knocked out of his hand by a blow from an invisible spirit.
One man assured the writer that this did actually happen to him once
when he forgot to make the necessary small offering. If there was time
that day the heads were hung up at once on the mingetung. If not they
were left in the “morung” till morning. Preparatory to hanging them up
the man who had taken most heads in the village pushed a sharp piece of
wood through each head from one ear to the other, so that a piece of
wood about six inches long stuck out on each side of it. A man’s head
was ornamented with the big cotton wool ear pads which are worn with
full dancing dress. A long bamboo with a cane string ornamented with
cane leaves on the end was leant against the branches of mingetung, and
the head tied by the piece of wood running through it to the string, so
that it hung about six feet from the ground. Anyone could assist at
this. The fingers and toes were enclosed in bamboo basket balls and
hung up like heads. [122] Everyone who had jabbed the head or any part
of the corpse could have a basket ball hung up as if he had taken a
head. That day all who had taken heads or jabbed a corpse killed a
cock. They had to sleep apart from their wives for six nights, and were
forbidden to eat meat from a tiger’s kill. Further, a woman had to
remain chaste while her husband was away on a raid. [123] Any breach of
this rule, it was believed, would cause her husband to be killed by the
enemy. She was also forbidden to weave lest her husband’s foot should
become entangled in jungle creepers and he should be caught and killed.
The blood was not wiped off daos and spears till the day after the
warriors had returned.
On the sixth day after the heads had been hung up the Ramo “genna” took
place. On the fifth day everyone who had taken a head or jabbed a
corpse killed a small chicken and hung it up with some boiled rice and
“madhu” rice wrapped in a leaf from the roof of his house in the
mpongki on the left side as you go in. He then cleaned his dao and took
the omens by pouring the contents of a small “chunga” of “madhu” on the
ground and splitting the “chunga.” Then he wrapped the two halves in a
leaf, and opening the leaf suddenly let them fall to the ground. If one
side fell one way up and the other the other, it meant that the omen
was good and it would not be long before he did the head-taking
ceremony again. If both halves fell the same way up no successful raid
would be made in the near future. He then hid the pieces of split
“chunga” in the roof of his house. Next day all the men in the village
put on full dress and went round in procession singing from the Puthi’s
house to that of every man who had taken or jabbed a head six days
before. Vats of “madhu” and great wooden dishes of pork were standing
ready outside each house, and everyone ate and drank as much as they
could, which was doubtless a good deal. In the evening the little
chickens and the bundles of “madhu” and rice were taken down and left
in the Puthi’s house. He did not eat them himself, but gave them to old
people.
It was most important that every Lhota should either take a head or at
least touch an enemy’s corpse, for unless he had done so he could not
put on the ornaments of a warrior: hornbill tail feathers in his
bearskin wig, boar’s tush necklace, red-fringed gauntlets, red
dao-belt, and dark blue lengta with red lines. One hornbill tail
feather could be worn for each head-taking ceremony, but a man rarely
wore more than six or eight at the outside, however many times he had
performed the ceremony.
Whatever may have been the case in the past, at the time when
Government first took over the Lhota country the aspect of a head as a
trophy of war and proof of bravery had become subordinated to a view of
it as something which would bring fortune to the village and enable
those who took it or touched it to put on the ornaments of a warrior,
no matter how it had been obtained. The result was that Lhotas were
ready to descend to what was practically human sacrifice. The last head
taken by Akuk, some time in the ’seventies, is a case in point. No
heads having been taken for a long time, they arranged to buy a slave
from Nankam. On an agreed date a party of Nankam men set out towards
Akuk, taking with them the unsuspecting slave, who was carrying a load.
Half-way between Akuk and Nankam they were met by some men from the
former village. All sat down and drank and talked. The slave was given
a drink of “madhu,” and at a prearranged signal an Akuk man killed him
with a blow of his dao from behind. The head was cut off, and pieces of
the body sent as presents to various villages. Many men touched the
head and these blossomed out as “warriors.” This horrible practice of
buying and murdering slaves was, however, comparatively rare among the
Lhotas, who were no worse than many other Nagas in this respect. Among
the Phoms in unadministered territory it is by no means uncommon at the
present day to sell slaves, or in some cases even troublesome freemen
of a village. I have heard of a well-authenticated case in which a Phom
sold his own brother. [124]
An interesting relic of war was the practice of mock fights which
existed up to about fifteen years ago. A Lhota village such as Pangti
would challenge an Ao or Sema village to battle on a certain day. Both
sides used to turn up at the appointed place in full dress and feast
together. They then separated and fought for say half an hour. Sticks
and stones would fly, and then the two sides would close and attempt to
tear off each other’s ornaments. Daos and spears were barred, but
sticks and shields were carried. [125] At a signal the fight would
cease and the late enemies would settle down to quench their thirst in
amicable groups. Looted ornaments were not returned, however. Men were
pretty badly hurt and occasionally even killed, but I believe no report
was ever made to the officials of the district; to have done so would
have been considered unsporting. Men who took part in these battles
were allowed to put on the ornaments of a warrior, provided, of course,
they gave the necessary feast to the old men.
Slavery.
In common with their neighbours, Lhotas used to keep slaves (’ndri). A
thief could be sold by the man whose property he had stolen if he could
not return it, or a debtor could be sold by his creditors. The Aos were
great slave-holders and were always ready to trade in slaves with the
Lhotas. There is an old freed slave woman now in Nankam who was sold by
Okotso. The usual price was two or three cows. Masters had the power of
life and death, but slaves seem generally to have been treated more or
less as members of the family, and for the purposes of marriage were
regarded as members of their master’s clan. It was thus forbidden for a
man to have immoral relations with his female slave. He would find a
husband for her and take her marriage price. Her children were then
free and regarded as ordinary Lhotas. If, however, a Lhota girl was
arranged as a wife for a slave-man the children of the marriage were in
turn slaves and had no right of inheritance whatever.
The Position of Women.
Were it to be suggested to a Lhota that he should go and consult his
wife about something he would reply with a look of utter scorn: “What
does a woman know about such things?” Nevertheless he would very likely
not only ask his wife’s advice when he got home, but take it into the
bargain. A Lhota’s wife is by no means a slave or chattel, but a very
real companion. Her duties are nevertheless sharply defined. She must
cook for her husband, look after the children, make the clothes for the
family, and carry up firewood and water. Her husband will help her with
a load if need be, and in the fields they work side by side. You never
see, as you do in Konyak country, the young men idling all day in the
shade in the village while their wives are toiling and digging in the
sun. When guests are present it is the wife who sees that all have
enough “madhu,” but as a rule she takes little part in the
conversation. Girls are often married when young, and almost invariably
without being consulted in the matter. The result is that divorces, in
which it is the wife who refuses to stay with her husband, are pretty
frequent. Often for the slightest of causes, or even for no
ascertainable reason at all, a woman simply refuses to live with her
husband. She will shed floods of tears over her own supposed grievances
and pay not the slightest attention to his earnest entreaties. It is
comparatively rare for a man to divorce his wife without very good
cause, partly because he will not get his marriage price back if he
does. Among the Aos, on the other hand, where there is no marriage
price, a man will divorce his wife in the most heartless manner when he
gets tired of her. One much-respected Ao acquaintance of the writer’s
has up to date divorced nine successive wives because they presented
him either with no children at all or with daughters instead of sons.
Very rarely indeed does a case occur of a Lhota treating his wife
cruelly. Were a husband to beat her in the traditional Whitechapel
style she would leave him at once, and her relations would extract a
fine.
PART IV
RELIGION
Religion—Deities and Spirits—The Soul and Life after Death
—Magic—Religious Officials—Public Ceremonies—Individual
Ceremonies—Ceremonies for Illness—Social “gennas”—Birth—
Marriage—Divorce—Death—Miscellaneous Beliefs.
The religion of the Lhota is of that type which is vaguely termed
Animism. He believes in no Supreme Being who rewards the good and
punishes the evil. The deities to whom he sacrifices are some of them
neutral, if kept in a good temper with the proper offerings, and some
of them definitely malicious. Yet he is very far indeed from being
devil-ridden and haunted with ghostly fears. He cheerfully carries out
what he conceives to be his religious duties and meets his end like a
man when the time comes.
[Deities and Spirits.] The nearest equivalent to gods is an order of
beings called Potso, [126] who live in a world like ours, of the earthy
floor of which our sky is the underside. The world of the Potsos in
turn has a sky which supports yet another Potso world, and so on for an
unknown number of layers. The only Potsos who affect us are those in
the world immediately above our sky. They resemble men in appearance
and have hosts of attendants who are sometimes regarded as their
servants and sometimes as their relations. It is believed that just as
the Lhotas have their Potsos, so the Semas, Aos and other tribes have
theirs. The language of Potsos is different from that of men. Some
members of the Tsoboi clan are said to claim to know it. Potsos are
believed to visit earth from time to time and hold converse with the
village seer (ratsen), coming in pairs with a train of attendants and
bringing articles symbolical of the fortune the village is going to
enjoy during the year. They send a servant ahead who appears to the
ratsen in a dream and tells him that his masters will come on such and
such a day. From the time when the warning is received till the Potsos
come nothing must be killed in the ratsen’s house, and between these
dates he must not go outside the village land, or indulge in sexual
intercourse, or eat the flesh of anything killed after he received the
warning, though he may eat meat dried before. For their visit he makes
ready “pita madhu” (etha soko) and some small fish and rice, and has
plantain leaves brought up from the fields for use as cups. On the
night when the Potsos are expected all in the village must go to bed
early and shut their doors. The ratsen himself sleeps in a room
separate from the rest of his family. The Potsos then come and speak to
him in a voice which no one else can hear, and show him symbolical
articles from which the future can be foretold. In the morning the
marks of the spear butts of the Potsos and their servants can be seen
outside the ratsen’s door. They are easily distinguishable, it is said,
from the ordinary marks of spear butts, for they are much smaller and
deeper. This belief seems to show that the Potsos are regarded as
coming in material form. The objects brought by the Potsos are
generally believed to be taken back by them, but Niroyo village claim
that some of their rice is from seed rice given to a ratsen by a Potso.
A typical instance of this curious belief that these beings from
another world sometimes visit the earth is the supposed visit of Potsos
to the ratsen ’Nchemo of Illimyo in April 1919. ’Nchemo reported that
two Potsos came with fourteen attendants and brought with them reeds,
meaning sunny weather, part of a railway carriage (!), meaning
elephants would give trouble, two loads of dark blue thread, meaning
that someone would die “apotia,” and a broom, meaning that wind would
damage the crops. The day after a village is visited by Potsos is kept
as an emung both by the village to which they came and by its
neighbours. Formerly if any village was visited in this way all Lhota
villages, however distant, kept one day’s emung when they heard the
news. Apart from special ceremonies performed to appease or gain the
favour of the Rangsis, Sityingo and such-like godlings, it is to the
Potsos that prayers are offered in sacrifices. Just as in England huge
circular depressions in the hills are often called Devil’s Punchbowls,
so the Lhota tends to assign big or curious things to the Potsos. For
instance, the polished stone celts which are sometimes found in the
fields are regarded as thunderbolts and are called “Potso’s axes”
(Potsophü). The long flat seed-case, too, of a certain tree is called
“Potso’s weaving-sword” (Potsotsitam). [127]
Sityingo is regarded as the lord of wild animals, which he keeps just
as men keep pigs and cattle. Sometimes he can be heard calling the wild
pig, but to hear him is very unlucky. He lives in the jungle and is
like a small man, with his head twisted to one side. By his favour men
have luck in hunting. Okisityingo (“house-sityingo”) is the good genius
of the house. He is like a man, but has enormously long fingers and is
spotted all over. He is only seen by men in delirium. So long as he is
in a good temper his influence is good, but he can be harmful if due
respect is not shown him. It is very unlucky if he leaves the house.
Ngazo is another jungle spirit, practically identical with Sityingo. To
every village and every man is attached a Rangsi, by whose favour the
crops are good. No one has ever seen one or knows what one is like to
look at. Just as crops and wild game have their genii, so have the
rivers and streams in Tchhüpfu (“water-master” [128]), a being like a
man with hair of enormous length, who lives at the bottom of deep pools
and uses human skulls as hearth-stones. Small offerings are made to him
by some villages after doing the oyantsoa ceremony. One is believed to
inhabit a pool called Tchhüpfu izzü in the Doyang below Morakcho. In
the days when men first came out of the earth they were persecuted by a
fiend called Khyuham, who ate their children and carried the skulls of
his victims about in a basket on his back. Rankhanda, one of the
ancestors of the Lhota tribe, managed to shut him up in a hole in the
earth, the entrance of which he blocked, some say with a stone, others
with a mithan horn. Yet even now a yearly ceremony called Epuetha is
performed by every family in order to ward off the evil influence of
Khyuham. Almost every illness is put down to the unhallowed attentions
of Tsandhramo, invisible fiends who out of sheer malice make men sick
by detaining their souls or by introducing hair or bits of wood or
small stones into their bodies, making it necessary to call in a ratsen
to extract them. The bright rust-coloured mud which is often seen
oozing out of cliffs is regarded as the excreta of Tsandhramo. If these
patches are sprinkled with dogs’ teeth the fiends will abandon the
place. In Lakhuti the custom obtains of leaving a spear sticking
through the roof of a house from inside when an inmate is ill. This is
supposed to ward off further attacks of evil spirits. During the
influenza outbreak of 1918 the village simply bristled with spears. The
jungle is believed to be haunted by wailing fiends called Nangkamo. A
famous haunt is below the village of Akuk on the northern slope of the
range. Men are tempted to follow the wailing. If they do they will be
affected with such madness that they will think level ground is steep
ground, and steep ground level ground. [129] Ramphan, the great Lhota
hero, once speared one of these fiends with a red-hot spear, and buried
it. In the morning he dug it up and found that though when speared it
had the appearance of a man it was now a lizard. [130]
Respect rather than worship is paid to a huge boulder called Deolung on
the north-west side of the path between Lakhuti and Akuk. Everyone who
passes it lays a leaf on a stone in front of it. Lakhuti once
sacrificed a chicken to it, but the experiment was followed by many
deaths in the village and was not repeated. Formerly very solemn oaths
were taken on this stone. The story goes that long, long ago Deolung
was attacked by another huge boulder called Tarrlung, who cut his head
off. But Deolung’s friend Matishi, another boulder, was near, to whom
Deolung cried out, “Matishi, Matishi, Tarrlung has cut off my head. Go
and waylay him.” So Matishi took a sharpened bamboo as a spear and
waylaid Tarrlung and wounded him so seriously that he only had strength
to stagger away and toppled into the Doyang near Morakcho. Deolung’s
leg is supposed to be somewhere in the plains, but the wound where his
head was cut off, and his head itself, now a rough piece of stone, are
still pointed out. Close to Deolung and a little to the south is a flat
slab of stone known as the grave of Orhendhromo, Deolung’s son,
sometimes called Orhendhreni, his daughter. The little escarpment on
which Deolung stands is called “Deolung’s wall” (Deolung piku). Matishi
is now a big boulder a little distance below the Naga path and to the
south-east of it between Deolung and Akuk. It is regarded both as
Deolung’s friend still standing guard near him, and as his mithan. A
lowing sound heard coming from it forebodes some great disaster. A mark
in the sandstone in Akuk village is shown as the mithan’s track, and a
natural hole through a rock there as the place where the mithan was
tied up. Another rock called Napa is believed once to have been endowed
with life and to have walked up from the bed of the Doyang to the place
where it now stands on Pyopsü land. [131]
[Beliefs concerning the Soul and the Life after Death.] The Lhota
usually regards himself as having two distinct souls called
respectively omon and mongyi. The omon, which is visible in the form of
the man’s shadow and shows its good sense by disappearing into him when
the sky is cloudy and rain threatens, leaves the man some time before
death in cases of serious illness. It may just wander about, in which
case it can often be induced by the proper ceremonies to return, or it
may go straight along the Road of the Dead to the next world, in which
case the man dies.
As an example of this belief the following story, told to the writer by
a Rephyim man, may be related. The man said: “The Road of the Dead in
our village runs past the champo in which I used to sleep. One night
when I was lying awake I heard someone go stumbling past towards Wokha
Hill, groaning as he went. Then I heard him say, ‘Oh, oh, I cannot
walk,’ and recognized the voice of my brother-in-law, who was very ill.
I was frightened and shouted and woke all in the champo. My
brother-in-law died next day, for his soul (omon) had already gone
ahead.” The mongyi leaves a man at the moment of death and goes
straight to the World of the Dead, where it joins the omon which has
already gone on ahead except in cases of very sudden death. Some men do
not distinguish omon and mongyi (lit. “stupid soul”). The fact is that
the Lhota does not analyse the details of such an unpleasant certainty
as death. The Lhotas also believe in a sort of personal evil destiny
called nyok, and when looking at the corpse of a man who has died a
violent death will hold bunches of leaves before their faces to prevent
his nyok affecting them. It appears to correspond to the Angami temi or
rhopfü (cf. Hutton, The Angami Nagas, pp. 98 and 183). A curious
belief, apparently at variance with all their beliefs as to dead men
walking to the Land of the Dead, is held by Lhotas in common with Semas
and Aos. It is that if a man kills a flying squirrel during his life,
at his death his soul will fly to the Land of the Dead under the
shelter of the wings of the soul of the squirrel. Col. Shakespear
records that the Lushais hold a similar belief with regard to a bird
called vahluk. [132] There are also traces of a belief in the
reincarnation of the soul in some lower form of life. No member of a
household in which a death has occurred may take the life of any
creature, whether animal, bird, or insect, till the days of “genna” are
accomplished and the soul has finally left for the Land of the Dead, in
case the creature killed should be the dead man in another form. The
Aos have a similar belief. [133] The Land of the Dead (etchhili) lies
under our world and has the bottom of our world for a sky, just as our
world lies under the world of the Potsos. There the dead live exactly
as men live here, those who have done good deeds here being rich and
happy, and those who have done evil deeds being poor and miserable.
[134] As the sun passes under the earth every evening their day is our
night. The entrance to it is a cave (etchhiku) on the precipitous
eastern face of Wokha Hill. It is inaccessible and no living man has
ever been into the cave, though the story goes that once a man
desperate with grief at the death of his nine children from smallpox
managed to scramble down to it. There on the floor he found spittle and
on the side of the cave he found the smallpox scabs which had been
rubbed off against the rock as his children passed in. He could not
enter, for he was still alive, but he went away comforted, for he knew
that his wife and children had really gone to the Land of the Dead,
where he would meet them some day. The cave, which a telescope seems to
show does really exist, lies at one end of a narrow, conspicuous
stratum of white rock which looks exactly like a path and is known as
the Road of the Dead (etchhililan). [135] Below it is another similar
stratum, also apparently terminating in a cave, which is believed to be
the road used by the spirits of dead animals, for animals, too, go to
the Land of the Dead. In Yemkha, from whence the roads are clearly
seen, it is believed that sometimes at night lights can be observed
moving on the upper road when the dead come out with torches to meet
new-comers and light them on their way. Some say that the spirits of
those who die “apotia,” or at the hands of enemies or by witchcraft,
are earthbound and cannot go to the world of the dead. Others say that
they go, but by some different road. The dead have knowledge of what
goes on in this world and jealously watch the disposal of their
property! They can even at times punish the living with sickness. They
appear in dreams, sending their omon to the dreamer, for the dead man
himself cannot leave the place where he is. As a sign that he has
really been, the omon sometimes leaves a present of dead men’s rice
(etchhitsok). Zambomo of Pangti still uses rice descended from such a
present. It is occasionally necessary to appease the dead. A pig is
killed and a share given to a dreamer (hahang), who offers it to the
dead man in his dreams. This ceremony is called etchhienya, and is done
by anyone who is heir to the whole of a dead man’s property, and when
there have been many deaths in a family, or if children die one after
the other. Though the dead themselves cannot leave their habitation,
the deer they hunt, if hard pressed by dogs, sometimes come right
through the earth and appear on the surface of the ground in the form
of moles. That is why to find a mole above ground forebodes ill luck,
and perhaps even death. Hence the consternation when the writer’s
fox-terrier one day laid a dead mole at a Lhota’s feet. [136]
Similarly, the male of the Little Pied Flycatcher (Cyornis
melanoleucus) is regarded as the hornbill of the dead.
Life in the Land of the Dead is certainly not regarded as everlasting,
but the Lhota is very vague as to what the next stage is—the truth
being that he does not worry himself about the matter. One theory is
that men die again and become flies. Another theory is that every man
passes through nine successive lives [137] and then ceases to exist.
[Religion and Magic.] The religion of the Lhota teaches no moral code.
The blessings it offers him are material, not spiritual. Yet many, many
Lhotas lead clean, straight, honest lives and are ever ready to help a
lame dog over a stile. It is true that virtue in this world is vaguely
believed to be rewarded with happiness in the next, but this belief
weighs little with a Naga, who rarely turns his thoughts to what is in
store for him after he dies. Whatever it be which causes so many Lhotas
to lead virtuous lives it is not their religion. His religion presents
itself to a Lhota as a series of ceremonies and observances laid down
by custom, any one of which it would be dangerous to omit. Mingled with
this idea is the belief in the to the Lhota self-evident maxim that
like produces like. If children squirt water from their mouths rain
will fall. To pretend that you are carrying a heavy load of rice up to
the village will ensure good crops! And so on in every department of
life.
Religious Officials.
[The Puthi.] The priest of the village who takes the leading part in
all ceremonies concerned with the welfare of the whole community is
called by the Northern Lhotas Puthi and by the Southern Puki. Formerly
every village had two Puthis, the one first elected performing the
ceremonial acts, while his partner acted as his assistant and repeated
the prayers after him. Nowadays in many places there is only one Puthi,
the chief reason being that few men are eager to accept the post, which
is a risky one, for verbal mistakes in the ceremonies may call down
divine displeasure on the officiant. Where there are two Puthis the
junior automatically succeeds the senior one on the death of the
latter. An awkward interregnum is thus avoided, for in the absence of a
Puthi public ceremonies cannot be performed. [138]
Five days after the death of a Puthi the old men of the village meet at
the late priest’s house and discuss the question of his successor.
Ordinarily the man in the village who has done most social “gennas” is
chosen, provided he is otherwise qualified. That is to say, he must
belong to one of the clans who have provided Puthis for that village in
the past, and he must never have been wounded by an enemy or wild
animal, or have hurt himself by falling from a tree or rock, or have
burnt himself. In other words, a man who has only just escaped an
“apotia” death is not eligible. Nor must he be deformed or mutilated in
any way. Once installed he holds office for life. The sole charge on
which he can be dismissed is that of deliberately uttering curses
instead of blessings at ceremonies. But even in this case the village
must make good the expenses he has incurred during his time of office.
He is forbidden to go outside the boundaries of the village, lest he
should fall into the hands of enemies and be killed, for in some
mysterious way the life of the village is regarded as bound up with
that of its Puthi. On his death his successor must perform the ceremony
of “making the village” (oyantsoa). [139] The other occasions on which
this ceremony is performed are at the first founding of a village, when
a branch of the mingetung, or the mingetung itself, falls, and at
intervals of nine or ten years, when the Puthi thinks it is time it was
performed in order that the children, cattle and crops of the village
may increase. It may take place any time during the cold weather before
the rice is sown. The Puthi announces that the ceremony is to take
place and goes round with his spear (phui) in his hand and his Yenga
walking behind him, and collects a contribution of rice from every male
in the village. When all have prepared “madhu” the ceremony begins with
the killing of a dog outside the Puthi’s house. The formalities are the
same as at the building of a new “morung,” except that the man who
decapitates the dog at once cuts off its ears and places them on the
roof of the Puthi’s house, over the door. Next morning the unmarried
men and boys of the village, having remained chaste for three days, go
into the jungle and cut a log about six feet long and a foot and a half
in diameter. This is trimmed flat on one side. One end is left square
and the other end is sloped off from about two feet from the top. This
they drag up to the village and set up just outside the village fence
at the place (opyachama) which the tradition of the village ordains,
with the flat side facing the village. No woman must see it dragged in,
and for the three preceding days the village must keep strict emung,
even sewing and weaving being forbidden. In front of the post, which is
known as opya, all the males of the village in full dress assemble and
feast. The women may look on from a distance, but may not mix with the
men. Then the Puthi holds in his right hand a perfectly clean dao lent
by an unmarried man who has observed strict chastity during the
preceding three days, and in his left hand a cock. After the
traditional prayer (dranda) for the prosperity of the village he cuts
the cock’s throat with the dao and proceeds to take the omens from its
entrails. A sharp stick is then run into the base of the bird’s skull
at the back and it is set up at the foot of the opya. Then at a signal
from the Puthi all, shouting as if in battle, throw mock bamboo spears
at the opya. All then repair to the “morung” chanting shamashari, the
chant of warriors who are bringing home heads, and hoiki enyam, a
long-drawn high note followed by two short low notes. From the “morung”
they go to the Puthi’s house, and after chanting there disperse. All
men must refrain from sexual intercourse for this night. In some
villages (e.g. Rephyim) a straw collar is fastened round the opya at
the point where the flat side is sloped off towards the top. Only
warriors and men of importance, who fasten a little tuft of red goat’s
hair to the butt of their bamboo spears, may spear the opya above this
collar. [140] The opya may be compared with the figure put up by the
Quoireng and Kabui Nagas, who make a similar distinction between hits
on the head and on the body. [141] Whether the opya represents a human
sacrifice or the killing of an old Puthi whose failing powers would
involve disaster to the village is perhaps an open question. But it is
significant that the opya is believed occasionally to groan after being
speared. The next day the oha (lucky stones) under the mingetung are
counted. The whole village having assembled at the tree, while the
women look on from a respectful distance, the Puthi lifts up the oha
one by one, and on the place where they were lays the two ears of the
dog which were put on his roof. He then replaces the stones one by one,
counting them as he does so, and announces the total to the village. If
the stones have increased since the last counting it is a good omen. If
they have decreased it is an evil omen. All then stand round the tree
and flourish their spears and chant the shamashari. A light fence is
next built round the tree, with a door which is, however, carefully
kept shut. After much walking round the tree and chanting all go to
their own houses. Some days later—in some villages after five days, in
others after ten—the young men and the Puthi again repair to the
mingetung to open the door in the fence. Before this can be done the
Puthi squats in front of the gate in the fence holding a good dao with
the unsharpened face [142] of the blade upwards in his right hand and
an egg in his left. Addressing the Potsos, he says, “I have remained
chaste. I have eaten no unclean thing. Now help me and be favourable.”
He then rolls the egg very slowly down the blade of the dao. It is an
evil omen if it falls either over the edge or over the back. He sets
the egg on its end on the ground and puts thirty tiny pieces of dog’s
flesh on each side of it. The gate is then opened and after the usual
chanting the ceremony is at an end. A village which has done the
oyantsoa “genna” must not allow any uncooked rice to leave the village
till after the next Tuku “genna.”
After the oyantsoa “genna” and before the fields are cut for the next
year’s cultivation, some villages perform a ceremony called Pyotsoja in
honour of Tchhüpfu, the godling of rivers. On the appointed day the
Puthi sets out from the village early in the morning, accompanied by
all the grown-up men of the community. A bird-hunt is organized, and
when one has been caught alive all go down to the Doyang. On the bank
the Puthi kills a hen and lays out ten scraps of its flesh on his
up-stream hand for Tchhüpfu and nine scraps on his down-stream hand. A
miniature raft of bamboos is made, on which are put an egg, a little
cotton wool and the live bird tied by the leg. The raft is then allowed
to float down-stream. If it upsets it is a bad omen and it is believed
that someone will be drowned during the term of office of the Puthi. A
little poison is then pounded into the stream and the Puthi gets into
the water and flounders about like a stupefied fish. His Yenga plunges
in and seizes him and calls out, “I have caught such and such a fish!
No, it is such and such a fish! No it is not; it is such and such a
fish,” and so on, calling out the names of different kinds of fish. Of
the fish killed the first is offered to Tchhüpfu as the chicken was,
and the rest are divided up among those present.
Oyantsoa is followed by the ceremony of “calling the Rangsi”
(Rangsitsa), which takes place when the rice has begun to sprout,
before the season of thunderstorms sets in, for the thunder would
prevent the Rangsis from hearing the voices of those calling them. The
Puthi kills a big pig in his house, and taking a bamboo mat, some of
the boar’s meat, an egg, a fowl and a little rice goes with the whole
village a short way down the path up which the first Lhota settlers
came to found the village. The chicken is killed and the omens taken
and the egg and meat laid out on the ground exactly as in the Amungkam
and Rangsikam ceremonies. The Puthi then spreads the mat in the ground
and sprinkles a little unhusked rice over it. Then beginning with
Honohoyanto, Kisiyo and Dilungcham he calls out the name of every Lhota
village, both extinct and existing, and summons its Rangsi to come and
give rice to his village. Meanwhile the whole village, every man, woman
and child having brought a rice basket, sets the baskets on the ground
and beckons to the Rangsis who are supposed to be trooping up in
obedience to the summons. The baskets are held as if someone were
pouring rice into them and then covered quickly with a cloth. All go
home in single file with much grunting, as if they were carrying heavy
loads, the Puthi bringing up the rear. Arrived at the village everyone
carefully pours the imaginary rice out of his basket into his rice
house. Among the Northern Lhotas the young men of the village on the
day before this “genna” make a point of trying to steal water from some
other village’s supply to put into their own. If they are caught they
must submit to a good hiding.
[The Yenga.] The assistant of the Puthi, who accompanies him at all
ceremonies and carries his load, is called Yenga. He must be an old man
who has done no social “gennas” and is appointed for life. In villages
where there are two Puthis each has his Yenga. He receives a share of
the meat at all “gennas” and one small basket of rice from every house
in the village once a year. In cases where the only or both Puthis are
ill the Yenga may perform ceremonies as if he were Puthi.
[Minor Religious Officials.] The post next in importance to that of
Puthi is that of Wokchung (“pig-killer”), of which there are usually
two in a village, though in big villages such as Tsingaki there are two
for each clan. A Wokchung may carry a phui spear as the Puthi does. His
duty is to kill animals at private sacrifices. Below the Wokchungs are
two ’Nchuko (“hearth-bringers”), who bring the small stones with which
miniature hearths are made at social “gennas.” Next below are two
Sorhung (“meat-dividers”), who divide up the meat at all sacrifices and
settle all disputes as to the respective shares. No one may act as
Wokchung, ’Nchuko, or Sorhung unless he has performed all social
“gennas” and dragged a stone. There is nothing to prevent the offices
of Puthi, Wokchung, ’Nchuko and Sorhung being combined in the same
person.
Public Ceremonies.
Besides the ceremonies intimately connected with agriculture which have
already been described, there are certain other public ceremonies of a
more general character. The year officially opens with the Pikuchak
“genna,” but before that is performed the omens for the whole village
are taken at a ceremony called Sirosi.
[The Sirosi ceremony.] The procedure at Pangti, to take an instance, is
as follows. The men of the village all assemble in front of the senior
Puthi’s house, the boys of each champo bringing meat in new baskets and
“chungas” of “madhu.” The two Puthis in full dress lead the way a short
distance down the path to Okotso, each holding a “chunga” of “madhu” in
his right hand. A short distance beyond the village fence they sit down
and together say the dranda, praying that their enemies may make peace
and come and eat with them, that tigers may not kill their cattle nor
hawks their chickens, and that the village may flourish and grow big.
This prayer is offered facing away from the village, and at the end of
it each Puthi pours a little “madhu” on the ground. Some meat and
“madhu” are distributed, and all go up to the village again and a short
way down the path to Are, where the same ritual takes place. On the Are
path, just below the place where the prayers are said, is a small clump
of big trees growing close together. Between their stems is the
traditional spot at which omens are taken at Sirosi. The prayer ended
all the boys rush down the hill shouting, and hurl bamboo spears at the
trees. Then all go down and scrape the earth clean at the proper spot.
Here each Puthi sets up an egg on end, asking that the good or evil
fortune of the coming year may be revealed, and takes the omens by
cutting chips from a green twig and watching how they fall. The future
is really believed to be revealed by the kinds of insects which are
caught near the egg, and all sit and watch while the boys hunt
industriously in the grass. Locusts mean that sambhur hunting will be
good (for they have big legs). Stick insects are interpreted as showing
that many men will take new wives, but will have no children by them.
Small white insects show that the crops will be poor, and so on. When a
few insects have been caught, and their significance has been expounded
by the Puthis and old men, all go home.
[The Pikuchak ceremony.] The Pikuchak “genna” marks the beginning of
the agricultural year. The Northern Lhotas do it before clearing the
jungle on their fields, and the Southern Lhotas after. In any case it
must be done before the rice is sown. The Puthi announces the day on
which the ceremony is to be, and every champo buys meat, and each
champo in turn the cock which is to be sacrificed. On the night before
the “genna” sexual intercourse is forbidden. On the day all the men of
the village assemble at the place where the opya is set up. In front of
the opya the Puthi sets up a miniature opya, and in front of that again
puts an egg on the ground with a leaf on each side. On the leaf to his
right he puts ten little bits of pork and ten little bits of ginger,
and on that to his left nine little bits of each. He then recites the
dranda, holding the cock in his left hand, and a dao in his right. This
dao belongs to the youth who caught the cock the night before, the
champo whose turn it is to provide the cock having selected some days
before a youth whose duty it is to go to the house of the seller of the
cock and catch it on the evening before it is sacrificed. This youth
must abstain from all intercourse with the opposite sex from the time
he is chosen to the end of the ceremony. The dranda being ended the
Puthi cuts the cock’s throat, takes the omens from its entrails and
ties it on to the miniature opya. The old men sit down and eat some of
the meat which the boys from the champos have bought and all go back to
the village with much chanting. Parties of boys walk singing six times
round each champo. The rest of the day is given up to feasting. Next
day is kept as an emung and no one goes to the fields, but a party,
consisting of boys and one or two old men, go out on a mock head-taking
raid. First they go to the opya, where one of the old men sets up a
miniature opya and makes the same offerings of an egg, meat and ginger
as were made the day before. Then the party goes into the jungle and
throws spears at trees and shouts as if engaged with the enemy. Then
all return to their champos, in some villages openly, in other villages
by roundabout paths and in dead silence. Finally after sitting in the
champo for a little, as they would after a raid, all go to their
houses. It is believed that this mock raid ensures good crops and
hunting and a high birth-rate for the village.
[The Rangendri ceremony.] After Pikuchak, but before the crops are
sown, a “genna” called Rangendri is performed, at which imitation heads
are hung on the mingetung. The Puthi collects rice and with it buys a
pig which he kills outside his house. Going outside the village fence
he lays thirty tiny pieces of the flesh on each of two leaves and prays
that inasmuch as the warriors of the village are following the customs
of their forefathers, good fortune may come to all. Then a few men of
standing make globular bamboo baskets, such as are used for fingers,
ears, bits of scalp and other trophies of Naga warfare, and hang them
up on the mingetung. These are spoken of as “heads,” and each man who
hangs one up sacrifices a fowl and feasts the village as if he had
really taken and hung up an enemy’s head. The performance of this
“genna” does not permit a man to wear any of the ornaments of a
warrior, but entitles him to have one representation of a head put on
his grave for each time he does it.
[The Tuku ceremony.] The agricultural year closes with the Tuku
ceremony. Five days after he has given notice of the “genna” the Puthi
goes round with his Yenga and collects unhusked rice from every house.
Men married in the course of the year have to make an extra large
contribution, and receive in return a special blessing from the Puthi
when he visits them on his round. Two days later he collects husked
rice in the same manner. With some of the unhusked rice he makes “pita
madhu,” and with part of the rest buys a pig. The eighth day from that
on which the unhusked rice was collected is known as kichan. On it the
Puthi spears the pig at the opya, or among the Northern Lhotas just
outside the village fence. The stomach is eaten there by the Puthi and
the old men, and the rest of the meat divided up and distributed, those
who gave most rice naturally getting most pork. The pig must not be
singed to get the hair off or the crops will fail. From the day when
the unhusked rice is collected to kichan nothing must be killed or sold
in the village, and no meat from a tiger’s kill must be brought in. The
day after kichan is called remphi or tuku inshuk. On it animals and
fowls may be killed and the day is given up to feasting, the working
companies especially who have worked together during the year holding
little feasts to which they have all subscribed, or visiting the houses
of the different members. Next day emung is observed. On it the
ornaments and all erections on graves are thrown away. [143] No rice
may be cut after this “genna.” Tuku emung being intimately connected
with the dead, it is chosen as a time for taking omens which will show
who is to die in the course of the year. The night before the boys of
the champo sprinkle ashes carefully round the entrance to their
sleeping-rooms. These are examined for tracks very early in the morning
before anyone has gone out. Should a track be found fitting the foot of
any of the boys it is believed that that boy’s omon has gone to the
Land of the Dead, and that he will assuredly follow it before the next
Tuku emung comes round.
Ceremonies for Rain.
The rainfall in the Naga Hills is usually adequate. Nevertheless
various rain-compelling ceremonies are practised, most of them of a
very simple nature. The usual one resembles that in vogue among the
Semas. A gibbon’s head and a small dead tserü fish, with its mouth kept
open by a piece of stick, are pegged down to the bottom of the nearest
stream. When enough rain has fallen the gibbon’s head is taken out, the
fish being left in the water to rot. Another common method is to dig a
little tunnel and pour in water at one end and let it run out at the
other. In Akuk a stick is rattled about to imitate the sound of rain in
the hole to which Deolung tied up his mithan, water being poured in
meanwhile. Sometimes children go about with “chungas” of water and
spray it from their mouths over passers-by and each other. Niroyo,
Wokha and their neighbours fell a tree across the path leading from the
village to the Road of the Dead. All then go home holding leaves over
their heads and saying that it is raining. To increase the flow of the
village spring in times of drought someone goes down at night to the
Doyang, and leaving an offering of four little bundles of meat and an
egg on the bank, brings up a little water in a “chunga” and pours it
into the village supply.
Individual Ceremonies.
[The Potsokam ceremony.] Many of the ceremonies performed by
individuals, such as those connected with agriculture, have been
described under their respective headings. Three main classes may,
however, be considered here, namely, those performed regularly for the
general welfare of the household, those which are connected with
illness, and those social “gennas” on which the status of the
individual Lhota depends.
A “genna” called Potsokam (“present to the Potsos”) is performed every
year, or oftener in case of sickness. The regular time for it is just
before the new “jhums” are cut. The master of the house kills a small
pig of either sex inside the house. He then mixes “madhu” and a few
blades of rice which have sprung up in his granary among the damp
grain, and ties them in a leaf which he affixes to one of the
centre-posts of the house. Then of the pig which has been killed he
cooks sixty small pieces, which he wraps up in a yutso leaf and holds
up near the centre-post, with the prayer that there may be no sickness
or misfortune in the house. The bundle is then put in the basket or
“chunga” in which the day’s supply of rice is kept. Then two leaves
containing six pieces of meat each and two leaves containing four
pieces of meat each are prepared for the dreamer (hahang) whom the
performer of the rite patronizes. The dreamer must come and fetch them
himself in the evening. When he goes out the door is shut hurriedly
after him lest the good genius of the house (okisityingo) should
escape. None of the flesh of the pig may be eaten that night, during
which the husband must sleep apart from his wife. In the morning the
dreamer comes to report what visions he has had and counts the pieces
of meat in the rice bin. If the full number is found and the leaf is
wet with congealed moisture all is well. A reduction in the number of
pieces foretells evil. It is regarded as particularly fortunate if a
little rice is found mixed with the meat. This is regarded as a gift
from the dead and ensures good crops. Anyone may see the sacrifice of
the pig, but were anyone to steal and eat a piece of meat his mouth
would become deformed.
[The Epuetha ceremony.] The story goes that the evil spirit Khyuham,
when shut up in a hole in the earth by Rankhanda, exacted a promise
that he should be appeased by a yearly sacrifice. In fulfilment of this
the Lhota householder, year by year just before the Thruven “genna,”
kills a small boar in his house and puts into a carrying basket
twenty-three little pieces of the meat, a handful of rice husks, an
egg, a handful of boiled rice and a “chunga” of “pita madhu.” The
ceremony is performed in the lhurhui room, by an old man who has done
no “gennas,” called in for the purpose. Holding a “chunga” of “saka
madhu” in his hand he prays for the welfare of the household, and after
spilling a little on the ground drinks. He then pounds up some ginger,
the usual magical disinfectant, in a leaf and pours a little “pita
madhu” over it. While he is doing this members of the family scrape all
their daos and spears one against the other. Then the old man,
addressing Khyuham, says, “We have given you all the things in this
house. Do not harm anyone,” and as he speaks sprinkles a little of the
ginger and “pita madhu” about the room, laying what is left in a leaf
at the foot of the main post of the house, that is to say the post
between the lhurhui and the mpongki. This done he takes up a brand from
the hearth and the carrying basket containing the twenty-three pieces
of pork and other things, and goes out of the house, calling on all
evil spirits to follow him. As he goes the household throw after him
ashes and burning brands, another powerful type of magical
disinfectant, and shutting the door quickly keep it closed for a few
minutes. The old man goes into the jungle just outside the village
fence and there lights a small fire and spills a little “pita madhu” on
the ground. Setting the egg up on end he puts on each side of it a
little heap of rice husks on a leaf, six little sticks, six little
pieces of ginger, and six scraps of meat. The “chunga” which held the
“pita madhu” is by this time empty. This he splits with his dao and
watches how the two halves fall. If both fall inside up or outside up
the omen is good, but if one falls one way and one the other it is bad.
The two halves are then laid on either side of the egg, and the old man
having eaten the rest of the rice and meat goes straight to his house.
He must not enter the house where the ceremony was performed again that
evening. In the morning he goes back to return the carrying basket and
receives a small handful of rice as his fee.
Ceremonies for Illness.
A Lhota when sick usually attributes his illness to the malice of an
evil spirit (tsandhramo), who has either introduced some foreign
matter, such as hair or a little stone, into his body or has caused his
soul (omon) to desert him at a certain place. In any case a ratsen has
to be called in, who can see and “extract” any foreign body which may
be the cause of the trouble, or can say at what spot his soul left him
and is likely to be lurking. To enable the man to regain his soul a
soul-caller (montsai) is required, who must be an old man who has done
no social “gennas.” If it is on his own land that the man’s soul has
left him a dog must be sacrificed. The montsai and the sick man, if he
be well enough, go down to the spot indicated by the ratsen. If the
sick man be too ill, as is often the case, a near relation goes, who
may be either a man or a woman among the Southern Lhotas, but must be a
man among the Northern Lhotas. On arrival at the spot the montsai
lights a fire, and killing the dog by knocking it on the head, singes
it and cuts it up. On his right the montsai puts ten pieces of meat and
ten pieces of ginger on two leaves, and nine pieces of meat and nine
pieces of ginger on two leaves on his left. The paws, ears and nose are
cooked in a pot which has been specially brought for the purpose, and
left there in the pot. The rest of the meat is the montsai’s
perquisite. He goes back to the village, repeatedly calling the sick
man’s soul by the man’s name to follow him.
When the ratsen says that it was at some place in the jungle or on the
village path that the patient’s soul left him and is being kept away by
a tsandhramo, an interesting ceremony with a scapegoat chicken is
performed. The montsai and a relation of the patient go to the spot
where the soul is said to be, taking with them a carrying basket
containing two “chungas” of “madhu,” sixty pieces of plantain stem
blackened with soot, twelve pieces of burnt wood, sixty little bits of
pork, a small chicken, a cowrie, some ginger, some taro, some heads of
a species of wild mint called rarakham, which is believed to be an
infallible antidote against evil spirits, and a burning brand.
Throughout the ceremony the patient’s relation is a mere spectator.
Assuming that the “genna” is being performed on a path, as is usually
the case, for the patient was probably travelling along a path when the
tsandhramo took possession of his soul, the montsai places equal
portions of the ginger, rarakham, meat, plantain stalk, burnt wood and
taro on either side of the path. This he does sitting facing away from
the village to which the patient belongs. He pours the “madhu” from the
smaller of the two “chungas” onto the ground, and lays the empty
“chunga” down with its base towards the village. The carrying basket is
split in half, and half put on either side of the path. The montsai now
drinks the contents of the large “chunga,” and splitting it with his
dao lays his dao on the ground with the blade away from him. Then six
times if the patient is a man, or five times if she is a woman, he
drops the two halves of the split “chunga” together onto his dao,
asking each time, “Will he live or die?” If both halves come to rest on
the same side of the dao the illness will be a long one. If one falls
on one side and one on the other the patient will either die or get
well soon. Next having tied the chicken’s wings together over its back
and fastened a cowrie onto its leg, he tosses it up and catches it six
times for a man and five times for a woman, and undoing its wings lets
it go into the jungle. He then takes his spear and jabs the butt into
the ground a number of times, in order that the tsandhramo may think
that a large number of men have come to call back the sick man’s soul
and so be more ready to let it go. Finally, he calls out the name of
the patient eight times, and says, “O so and so. We have let a chicken
go for you. Come back, come back.” On his way back to the village he
must keep on calling the sick man by name, and on arrival at the
patient’s house he says, “I have called so and so. Has he come?” and
one of the inmates will answer, “He has come.” The montsai’s fee for
this ceremony is a small basket of rice. This account is of the
ceremony as performed by the Northern Lhotas. The only difference the
Southern Lhotas make is that instead of sixty pieces of pork they take
down either a crab or a jungle rat or squirrel, which they laboriously
divide up into sixty tiny pieces. The reason for this is that they
regard it as essential that a whole animal, however small, should be
offered. This employment of a scapegoat chicken is common to Lhotas,
Aos, Semas, Changs and probably most Naga tribes.
If a man be only slightly indisposed on his return from a journey the
ratsen will tell him that a tsandhramo is detaining his soul at such
and such a place on the path along which he came—always a spot
conveniently near the village—and that an offering of eggs is all that
is required. The sick man will then either go with a montsai or alone
to the place. There the montsai, or the patient if he goes alone, puts
on either side of the path a big leaf and an egg, and on the leaf taro,
ginger, boiled rice, burnt wood and cotton, chilies, or whatever he may
have been carrying when his soul was enticed away. He then goes home,
calling his soul in the ordinary way. The cheapness of this method of
regaining his soul appeals to the Lhota, who performs the ceremony on
the least provocation. In cases of long illness more persuasion is
required to induce the soul to return. A meal is prepared in the house,
great care being taken that no stranger touches it, and put wrapped up
in leaves in a carrying basket with a new cloth and the patient’s
ornaments. This is taken to the montsai’s house, who that night meets
the patient’s soul in his dreams and tries to persuade it to return by
pointing out that food and new clothes and ornaments are all ready for
it if only it will come back. If it cannot be persuaded to return by
these inducements the patient is doomed.
A person suffering from intermittent fever or some similar slight
ailment gets rid of it as follows. He gets up from his seat in his
house and puts any bits of rubbish, such as sticks or leaves, into an
old carrying-basket. Taking up this load he says aloud, “I am going out
to get some things.” Having reached the outskirts of the village he
hangs his load on a bush and says, “Watch this; I am coming back very
soon.” He then leaves the load with the illness watching it, as he
thinks, and returns to his house by another path. Semas practise a
similar custom for ophthalmia.
The Social “Gennas.”
There remain to be described the social “gennas,” which play such an
enormously important part in Lhota life. Beginning from the first small
“genna” they increase in costliness and importance till the ceremony at
which two stones are dragged is reached. Almost every one of them
entitles the doer to wear a distinctive cloth. The wealth and
consequently the importance of a man is gauged by the number of these
social “gennas” he has done, for the Lhota, like all Nagas and members
of not a few other races, is a great respecter of wealth. It is
therefore the ambition of every man to perform the full series if he
possibly can. At the first stone-dragging ceremony one stone is
dragged, and at the second, third and so on two stones are dragged.
There is a limit to the number of times the stone-dragging ceremony may
be done, which varies in different villages, but is so rarely reached
that it practically exists only in theory. The only man the writer has
ever come across who has reached the limit is Wonchă̤̱mo of Pangti, who
has dragged twenty-five stones. The only course open to him now if he
wishes to do any more social “gennas” is to “become a boy again” and
sleep in the champo and begin the whole series again from Wozütana, the
first small “genna.” This he does not propose to do. Though cases have
been known in the past of men reaching the limit, there is no tradition
of anyone who began the series again. [144] The “gennas” are public
feasts which the whole village attends, but the man who proposes to do
one must never announce his intention beforehand except in a whisper to
his nearest friend and the necessary religious officials. This custom
is strictly adhered to. Even a Lhota in Government employment who
wishes to go to his village to perform a social “genna” will never say
when he applies for leave what he wants it for. Were a man to announce
that he was going to do one of these ceremonies and then not be able to
do so it would, it is believed, entail a serious illness or some other
misfortune.
For the ceremonies where a mithan is sacrificed a black hybrid or black
bull may be substituted, but the substitute is invariably spoken of as
a mithan. The following defects [145] make an animal unfit for
sacrifice—a hole in the horn, one horn deformed or shorter than the
other, one horn missing, teeth missing or broken, white marks on the
body, white on the tail or forehead (though an animal with white both
on the tail and forehead may be sacrificed), deformed hoof and white on
the leg unless all four legs are white. It is believed that were a man
to sacrifice an animal with one of these defects he would almost
certainly die. Under no circumstances may the flesh of an animal which
has been sacrificed be eaten either by the sacrificer or any of his
household. It is believed that anyone who broke this rule would go mad.
There is a man in Pangti who is supposed to have become insane for this
reason. Whatever may be the real cause he is certainly afflicted with
madness, and of a kind particularly obnoxious to the writer, for it
takes the form of making interminable complaints about imaginary
wrongs. Again in Humtso the writer came across a case in which a woman
tried to poison her husband by scraping shavings off the horns of a
mithan he had sacrificed and mixing them with his “madhu.”
[The First Social “Genna.”] Like all social “gennas” the first one,
Wozütana, is usually performed in the cold weather when there is a
certain amount of leisure from work in the fields. It is a very simple
affair which is often performed by a man before marriage. He invites
all the men of his clan in the village who have done Wozütana, and
kills a bull of any colour behind the house. This is divided up among
the guests and much “madhu” handed round. Little presents of meat, too,
would ordinarily be sent to fellow-clansmen in neighbouring villages.
Next day the man who has done the “genna” must not give a drink of
“madhu” to a man of another village. The head of the bull sacrificed on
this occasion is not kept. The man who performs this “genna” is
entitled to wear the cloth called phangdrap.
[The Second Social “Genna.”] The second social “genna,” Shishang, or,
as the Southern Lhotas call it, Wozüyua, is a much more elaborate
business and is usually not performed till after marriage. A big pig
and a bull of any colour are bought and “madhu” is prepared and kept in
the middle room. From the time the “madhu” is made till the end of the
“genna” the man doing the “genna” must not eat meat from the kill of a
tiger or leopard or other animal. When all is ready he calls a Wokchung
to his house, gives him a “chunga” of “rohi madhu” and formally
announces to him that he proposes to do the Shishang “genna.” The
Wokchung thereupon offers a prayer for the performer’s welfare, and
after pouring a little of the “madhu” on to the floor drinks the rest
and departs. Then the husbands of women of the sacrificer’s clan go
into the jungle and fields and bring yutso leaves and plantain leaves
for cups for the next day’s ceremony. Next day the same men kill the
pig and the bull in front of the performer’s house, the bull by cutting
the skin over the heart and then pushing a sharpened stick home, and
the pig with a blow of a stick on the back of the head. In “the good
old days” before the Hills were administered the bull was beaten to
death as slowly as possible—“great fun,” as old men often say with a
sigh. The two Wokchungs and two ’Nchukos are in attendance, and the
latter lay out six small pebbles in the form of miniature hearths in
the mpongki, a piece of ceremonial for which the Lhotas can give no
reason. The meat is then all divided up, and the Wokchungs and ’Nchukos
first go into the house and cook and eat a little of the meat. Then the
guests go in and feast. For this day they are mostly the husbands of
women of the sacrificer’s clan, with a sprinkling of blood relations
and senior men. At night, after much singing of songs in which good
wishes for the sacrificer are expressed, the guests disperse and the
’Nchukos throw away the six small pebbles. Next day about midday two
small pigs provided by the sacrificer are speared by the Wokchungs
outside the house. The hindquarters of one are the perquisite of the
parents of the sacrificer’s wife. The rest of the meat is eaten in the
evening, when all men of the sacrificer’s clan in the village who have
done the Shishang “genna” collect round a fire outside his house and
sing and drink his “madhu.” The Wokchungs and ’Nchukos each hold a cock
and sing songs in which the good fortune of the sacrificer is desired.
The cocks are then killed and the meat divided among the guests. The
rest of the evening and most of the night is given up to singing and
drinking, the old men especially getting happier and happier and more
and more boastful of the deeds of their youth.
[The Third Social “Genna.”] The third social “genna” is called Etha.
Nowadays the tendency is to combine it with the fourth social “genna”
at which a mithan is killed, or even omit it altogether. The procedure
is much the same as that of the Shishang “genna,” except that Humtso,
Chami, Kikung, Pathong and Nguli clans claim that they alone have the
right to sacrifice a bull, other clans being content with pigs. The
performance of this “genna” confers the right of wearing the cloth
called ethasü.
After Etha and all subsequent social “gennas” a ceremony called
osoni-woala is performed at the granary of the man who has done the
sacrifice. The two Wokchungs sacrifice two pigs outside the granary,
and kill two fowls by knocking their heads against the door. The meat
is then divided up and the fowls’ feathers are tied to bamboos outside
the granary as a sign that the ceremony has been performed there.
[The Fourth Social “Genna.”] The fourth social “genna” is that at which
a mithan is killed (Tsirotsoala). The man who proposes to perform this
“genna” tells the two Wokchungs of his intention. The Wokchungs tell
the husbands of married women born in the sacrificer’s clan, and they
(the husbands) in turn give public notice in the village and are called
Wothang (“announcers”). Rice is pounded, with much singing, and “madhu”
prepared. On the day of the sacrifice the mithan, which must be a bull
without blemish, is tied up in front of the sacrificer’s house, with
its horns decked with rezüyo leaves. It is given a drink of water and
allowed to lick salt out of the hand of the sacrificer’s wife. The
Wokchung touches it on the head with a stick and recites dranda. It is
thrown, and a spear thrust into its heart by an old man, not
necessarily of the sacrificer’s clan, who at once runs away while all
present pelt him with lumps of earth. After the mithan is dead its nose
is pierced by the Wokchung and a string of kuro bark passed through and
tied to a post in front of the house. The man performing the “genna”
then takes his dao in his left hand and draws it across the flanks and
neck of the animal as if he were cutting up the meat. He then cuts the
string and walks widdershins round the mithan up to the door of his
house, which he enters after washing his hands and his dao. The meat is
divided up as follows: the chest to the clan of the performer of the
sacrifice, the hindquarters to his wife’s clan, the fore-legs to the
husbands of women of his clan (echantyoi), the meat of the head to the
Wothangs, the tongue to the man who helped to buy the mithan, and the
lower part of the stomach to the old man who killed it. The performer
must on no account eat any of this meat. Probably he will avoid mithan
meat altogether for a year, in case an enemy should give him some of
his own mithan to eat. The skull and horns must be kept in the “morung”
till the sacrificer has dragged a stone, when he is allowed to put them
up in his house.
[Stone-dragging.] Before the ceremonies [146] begin a man who proposes
to drag a stone must build a little shed at the back of his house
called emungrangki, in which he and the whole household must sleep till
the ceremonies are finished. All being prepared and a stone selected,
two Wothangs announce the date of the ceremony on behalf of the
performer, who must allow no strangers from other villages to enter his
house, and must remain chaste from the time the stone is dug out of the
ground till the completion of the ceremonies. On the appointed night
rice is pounded in front of his house with much singing and “madhu”
made after daybreak. (Here and throughout, most of the work is done by
the echantyoi, i.e. husbands of women whom the performer calls
“sister”). The “madhu” is put in baskets to ferment and a bunch of
green stuff called soko-mma (“madhu-forbidding”) is put over the door.
[147] On the fourth day after this the performer must feed the
Wokchungs and their assistants in his house, receiving their blessing
in return. The next day a path is cleared for the stone, the workers
being feasted on a large pig. On the following day an old man called
Lungchakdhro kills a little chicken in front of the house by cutting
its throat with a sharp piece of bamboo, and prays that the stone may
be carried up safely and unbroken. The chicken is thrown away. Then the
Wokchung kills a small pig which is cooked by the performer’s echantyoi
in his mpongki. Every man is given a piece. The older men eat their
portions, but the younger men only touch theirs and throw them down,
for it is believed that they would become weak and unable to lift the
stone were they to eat this meat. Then all the men of the village, both
those of the performer’s clan and his echantyoi, go down to the stone,
which may be as far as two miles away, and make a frame of bamboo, on
which it is put and bound with cane and creepers. When all is ready the
two Wothangs sprinkle a mixture of “rohi madhu,” “saka madhu” and
rarakham in all directions and make a pretence of lifting the stone.
These preliminaries over, all take up the frame and carry [148] the
stone with much ho-hoing and grunting up to a place on the path called
züchanpen (“stone-discussing-place”). There they are met by a
procession of men in full dancing dress, consisting of all men of the
dragger’s clan who have dragged stones before, the rear being brought
up by the performer himself, followed by two men called Eso and Yuso,
Eso being the last man of the same clan who dragged a stone before the
present puller, and Yuso the last dragger before Eso of the same clan.
The performer himself carries an axe wrapped in yutso leaves, an egg
and a chicken. After the inevitable interval for eating, drinking and
talking the senior Wokchung holds the chicken in his hand and utters
prayers for the prosperity of the village in general and especially for
that of the performer and his wife. He cuts the chicken’s throat with a
sharp piece of bamboo and places it with the egg in front of the stone.
The two Wokchungs and the performer then all hold the axe together and
make eight cuts to the right and eight to the left, as if clearing a
way in front of the stone. The stone is then carried up to the village
and laid in front of the performer’s house. The evening is spent in
feasting and singing. The performer supplies a bull, which is killed
and divided up. The entrails are cooked and eaten by the carriers on
the spot. The head goes to the performer and the meat is distributed to
all except the performer and his clan and household. The songs sung are
called orrüeya (“enemy-songs”), and detail the heads taken from every
hostile village in the neighbourhood. The next day the Wokchungs show
the exact place where the stone is to be set up and a hole is dug. All
chant a prayer for the good fortune of the performer, holding in their
hands curious cups of “madhu” made of folded plantain leaves ornamented
with long horns of rezüyo leaves, similar to the cups used by the Aos
at their big sacrifices. Two boars are then killed and cooked and
eaten. A procession now emerges from the performer’s house consisting
of two old women followed by the performer’s wife wearing her charaksü
cloth for the first time, and another old woman. All four must wear
their cloths bound round them under the armpits and not over the
shoulders. The four women walk round the hole, which they approach from
the side opposite to the Road of the Dead. Each one waves her foot over
the hole as she passes. They then wash their faces and hands and
re-enter the house. The stone is now tipped into the hole, set up and
covered with mats, and the rest of the day spent in feasting and
gaiety. In the morning the mats are removed and the ceremony is at an
end. Among the Southern Lhotas three days elapse between that on which
the stone is dragged into the village and that on which it is set up.
During these three days the dragger is “genna.” He must not speak to
strangers or eat any unclean meat. [149]
Occasionally big forked posts (tsongzü), ten or twelve feet high, [150]
are put up instead of stones to commemorate a mithan sacrifice. The
usual reason is that suitable stone is not available, but the Nyimshamo
kindred of the Othui clan in Yekhum are a unique example of a kindred
which is forbidden to set up stones and must always set up posts
instead. The reason given is simply that they have never been allowed
to have anything to do with the village oha. The kindred came from
Yemkha on the Sema border and may represent an immigration of Semas who
still retain their own customs, but there is no tradition to that
effect.
Birth.
In addition to the articles of food which women are forbidden to eat at
all times, there are certain other things which are prohibited during
pregnancy. Neither the woman nor her husband may eat tortoise or
pangolin, [151] indeed she must not even touch a tortoise, and her
husband, though he may touch one, may not bring one into the house or
allow anyone else to do so. The wife may not eat bear’s meat or the
kill of any wild animal, and if her husband eats any of these things he
must sleep apart from her the following night. It is most important
that neither the husband nor the wife should kill a snake during this
time. Were they to do so the expected child would have a tremulous
tongue. Some pregnant women even object to a snake being killed in
their presence. It is also forbidden to an expectant mother to cut her
hair. Any hairs which fall out are carefully collected and twisted into
the hair-band. At the time of delivery the woman lies on her side and
is attended to by an old midwife called Oshangessi (“thrower-away of
afterbirth”). The husband and female relations may remain present. The
household goods are only put outside when delivery is delayed. In cases
of very painful birth the father either makes fire with a fire-stick
and fumigates the woman, or exchanges drinks of hot “rohi madhu” with
her. Occasionally the father spits on his fingers and puts a little of
his saliva on the woman’s stomach. This is regarded as an infallible
remedy in cases of difficult delivery. [152] The Oshangessi, the moment
the child is born, calls it by some name other than that which is to be
its real name, in order that the evil spirits (tsandhramo) who are
listening at the door may be deceived and go away, thinking they are in
possession of the real name, which is not given till six days later in
the case of a boy and five days later in the case of a girl. The name
finally chosen is invariably one which has been borne by a member of
the clan before. The false name having been given, the Oshangessi
washes the child and puts a little boiled rice into its mouth. The
navel string is put into a “chunga” and carefully kept by the parents
in their house. If it were thrown away and eaten by a dog or pig or
otherwise destroyed the child would die. The Oshangessi wraps up the
afterbirth in bits of rag and tsampen (wild lemon) leaves in the case
of a boy and michem leaves in the case of a girl, and putting it in a
little basket hangs it up on a michem tree, a tree with white flowers,
well out of the way of dogs and pigs, who would cause the death or
serious illness of the child if they ate it. There is one such tree on
the outskirts of every “khel” which is used for afterbirths. [153]
For the next six days in the case of a boy, or five days in the case of
a girl, the parents must not speak to any strangers, nor may any
strangers come to the house. [154] Freshly killed meat too must not be
brought into the house. For these days the child is regarded as in a
sense still in the process of being born. The custom until recently was
to regard a mother who died during this time as having died in
childbirth, [155] and abandon the house and all its contents. At the
end of five or six days as the case may be the ceremony of first
carrying the child is performed. Into the hands of a son the father
puts a miniature “madhu chunga” and wooden dao and says, “If I go on
the warpath, if I go hunting, if I go fishing, I will take you with me.
Grow up a strong, famous man.” He then places the child for a moment in
a carrying cloth on the back of the first “carrier” (Ngaromuchung), who
must be a boy for a male child and a girl for a female child, but may
be of any clan. For a daughter the father puts into her hands a
miniature weaving sword and belt and says, “If I go to the fields, if I
go to pick leaves in the jungle, I will take you with me. Grow up
quickly and be strong.” She is then given to the Ngaromuchung to carry
for a minute. For the rest of that day the Ngaromuchung must avoid
going down the path by which the spirits of the dead leave the village,
in case he or she should unwittingly carry the child’s soul (omon) with
her. After the child has been carried by the Ngaromuchung the lobes of
the child’s ears are pierced with a sharp bamboo needle. The Oshangessi
usually does this, but if she is old and her hand unsteady the father
drives the needle through at the place indicated by her. A little plug
of cotton wool is put in to prevent the hole closing up.
Boys are suckled for three years as a rule and girls for two, but a
little “grown-ups’” food is given from a very early age. Bat’s-flesh
soup is considered to be a good tonic for a child whom its mother
cannot suckle properly for any reason. Within about a month of birth
the child is given its first taste of meat. If possible bulbul is
given, because this bird twitters so much that by eating it a child
will soon learn how to talk. Substitutes are a small fish called
ngolelop, or a species of cuckoo called liyosangsü, which is said to be
able to imitate the call of all birds and animals.
As soon as the mother is well enough to take the child out of the house
she cuts off a little of its hair and either throws it away or wraps it
in a leaf and keeps it. The heads of little boys are shaved except for
a little piece on the crown, which is gradually allowed to increase
until by the time he can run about his coiffure is like that of a grown
man. Little girls have the whole of their heads shaved till they begin
to wear a skirt, which is generally when they are five or six years
old. It is then allowed to grow, beginning in the spring, “so that it
grows with the jungle,” as one informant expressed it to the writer.
Marriage.
Girls usually marry between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, and boys
between seventeen and twenty-two. The ceremonies are intricate and
differ in the northern and southern sections of the tribe. Among the
Northern Lhotas the customary procedure is as follows. A man having
decided that he wishes to marry a certain girl, he tells his parents,
and either his mother or some elderly female relation goes and sounds
the girl’s parents. If they are agreeable she goes again with a
“chunga” of “rohi madhu,” which they drink, but by so doing do not bind
themselves to give their daughter in marriage. The marriage-price is
then discussed and settled by the two families, and the bridegroom
gives the girl a rain-shield (phūchyo), a small carrying-basket
(eyingkhangdro) and a dao handle.
These preliminaries being satisfactorily settled, at the next Pikuchak
the ceremony of tsoyuta (“eating and drinking”) takes place. The man
takes a cock, which he has killed and cooked himself, and some “madhu”
rice, and goes to the girl’s parents’ house accompanied by an old man
of his clan called Hantsen, and another male relative, a sort of best
man. The Hantsen enters the house first, then the bridegroom and then
the best man. They hand the “madhu” rice to the girl’s father, who in
turn produces some. The rice of the two families is mixed by the girl
and a brew prepared from it which may be drunk by all except the
engaged couple. The bride and bridegroom sit side by side on the bed in
the lhurhui, and the Hantsen squats opposite to them, holding in each
hand a leaf containing sixteen tiny scraps of the cock which the
bridegroom brought. He then swings his hands backwards and forwards
eight times, praying that the couple, who by this ceremony are made man
and wife, will live long and happily together. From this time the
bridegroom will work in his father-in-law’s house for about a year.
[156] It is forbidden for him to have connection with his wife before
tsoyuta. [157] To do so would, it is believed, cause the marriage to be
sterile. But he may sleep with her when working in her father’s house.
When the fields have all been cut the bridegroom’s relations stack a
quantity of wood in the jungle, and bring up one load each to the
bride’s father’s house, receiving a drink of “madhu” for their trouble.
Four or five days later the lantsoa (“road-making”) ceremony takes
place. The husbands of women born in the bridegroom’s clan and their
wives fetch up all the wood which was left stacked in the jungle and
heap it up in front of his father-in-law’s house. The bridegroom kills
a pig and gives about twelve pounds of meat to his father-in-law. That
night in the latter’s house the Hantsen strangles a chicken and watches
how the excreta fall. If any remains in the vent it is an evil omen
indicating that the woman will die in childbirth. The Hantsen examines
the entrails also, and from them claims to be able to say which will
die first, whether the first child will be a boy or a girl, and so on.
The chicken is then cooked by the Hantsen and taken away as his
perquisite. The married couple may watch, but must never say afterwards
what the omens revealed. Next day men of the bridegroom’s clan
distribute the wood heaped up in front of his father-in-law’s house
among all members of the father-in-law’s clan, being rewarded with
shares of the twelve pounds of pork.
The bridegroom still continues to work in his father-in-law’s house
till the next Tuku comes round and the halam ceremony puts an end to
his rather laborious honeymoon. For this the bridegroom builds a small
house called kithandro, and buys a big pig, which is speared through
the heart with a sharp bamboo in front of his parents’ house by the
husbands of women born in his clan. It is taken to his father-in-law’s
house and there singed and cut up. The head goes to the bride’s father,
who also shares with other members of his clan the left fore- and
hind-quarters. The chest and right fore- and hind-legs are laid aside.
The bride collects cotton from all married women of her clan, and gives
them shares of meat from the chest in exchange. In the afternoon all
women, married or unmarried, of her clan bring two bobbins of thread
each and are regaled with “madhu” in front of her father’s house,
returning to their houses at nightfall. At night men of the
bridegroom’s clan make preparations to escort the couple to their
kithandro, and collect and drink outside his father-in-law’s house, the
bride and bridegroom meanwhile remaining inside. The drinking over,
they put some meat wrapped in leaves and a “chunga” of “madhu” against
the house and call out, “Let them come. Any further talking can be done
to-morrow. Any further talking can be done the day after to-morrow. It
is forbidden to come after cockcrow. If you do not let them come now we
will burn your house.” After they have been summoned in this way three
or four times the procession emerges: first the wife of a man of the
bridegroom’s clan, then the bridegroom in full dress, followed by the
bride wearing her loroesü (marriage cloth) for the first time, with the
wife of another man of the bridegroom’s clan bringing up the rear. The
first and last woman must not be pregnant at the time. Before leaving
the house the couple each take in their hands a small piece of meat of
the pig which was killed earlier in the day and two pieces of thread.
The husband waves his spear widdershins round the hearth before leaving
the house, a ritual act of which the meaning is not known. They must
both maintain absolute silence from the time they take the meat and
thread in their hands to the time the Hantsen completes the ceremonies
at the kithandro, whither they are escorted by the bridegroom’s male
relations. Four of these relations stay behind, and after asking the
way to the kithandro—a mere pretence, of course—pick up the right fore-
and hind-legs of the pig and take them there, having let the bridal
procession get well on its way first. The couple find the Hantsen
waiting for them outside the kithandro. He takes the bridegroom’s spear
from him, jabs the butt into the ground and leaves it standing outside
the house. The meat and thread he takes into the house, and having
poured water over the couple’s hands leads them in. Standing in front
of him, the man to the right and the woman to the left, they genuflect
to him eight times. They may then speak and he leaves them. The couple
sleep in the kithandro that night, but sexual intercourse is forbidden,
and two small boys of the bridegroom’s clan sleep with them. In the
morning the boys go down to fetch water, talking loudly all the way,
for it would be a very bad omen were they to meet a squirrel or other
wild animal on the way. During the day neither of the couple may go to
the wife’s father’s house. On the third day they go with a present of
meat, and are feasted there in return. [158]
Three or four days later the ceremonies are completed by the
Ponyiratsen (“man-and-wife-magicians”). After a drink of “rohi madhu”
the couple go into the jungle alone and bring up a load of yutso leaves
and sixty-four small bamboo “chungas” in eight equal bundles. All are
cut on the slant except two in different bundles, which are cut with a
level rim and are called tsungta. In each “chunga” of the two bundles
containing tsungta are put eight pieces of shambuk pith and eight
pieces of shamburi pith. When this has been brought the two Ponyiratsen
are called to the house. They are two old women, wives or widows of men
whom the bridegroom calls aporamo, and who have dragged a stone. These
are given a full “chunga” of “rohi” to drink and proceed to tie up
little scraps of pork in yutso leaves. They make four parcels each
containing four scraps of meat, four each containing six, four each
containing eight, four each containing ten, and finally two each
containing thirty. These little parcels they put in a basket with a
“chunga” of “rohi.” Then each throttles a cock and watches the position
of its legs when it dies. If the right leg is down and the left up the
husband will die first. If the right is up and the left down the wife
will die first. If the legs are crossed the couple will quarrel. The
excreta and entrails are also examined in the usual way. The husband
then singes the cocks and cuts each in half slantwise, so that the head
is in one half and the vent in the other. He puts yutso leaves on the
ground on his right and left, and puts the halves of two different
cocks on each. These are wrapped in leaves and put in the load with the
pork and “madhu.” Then all wash their hands and the Ponyiratsen put
eight narrow strips of plantain leaf over each ear of the bride and
bridegroom, who sit down in front of them, the husband to the right and
the wife to the left. The elder of the Ponyiratsen next takes a small
basket and puts into it a pair of pewter bracelets and waves it in
front of the couple, while she mumbles a prayer that they may be happy
and have many children. Only women know the right prayer, which is
mumbled purposely in order to prevent the husband hearing it properly.
The prayer finishes with “hohoho” said eight times, the other
Ponyiratsen keeping count aloud. From the house the old women go to the
Ponyiratsentung (“Ponyiratsen tree”) belonging to the “khel,” taking
with them the basket containing the parcels of pork and chicken and the
“madhu,” and four bundles of bamboo “chungas,” eight yutso leaves
without blemish, an egg, and two garments which have been worn by the
husband and wife respectively. The old women are supposed to lead away
with them all evil spirits. It is therefore considered very unlucky to
meet them and their devilish train on their way. When they leave the
kithandro the wife shuts the door quickly behind them in order to keep
out evil spirits and keep in good. Arrived at the tree the elder
Ponyiratsen divides the “chungas” into two equal heaps and puts the egg
between them, with a parcel containing thirty pieces of meat on each
side. They then go to the younger Ponyiratsen’s house, and having
divided up the rest of the meat there the elder one goes home. That
night the couple for whom the ceremony is being done must sleep apart.
Next day the Ponyiratsen come again and take the omens in the same way,
except that two hens are used instead of two cocks. After swinging the
basket containing the bracelets and mumbling the charm, the elder
Ponyiratsen lays a bamboo mat on the ground outside the door on the
side farthest away from the Road of the Dead. By the mat she lays the
two worn garments which she took the day before, the husband’s to the
right and the wife’s to the left. She sits at the right end of the mat,
facing her assistant Ponyiratsen, who sits at the left end, and rolls
an egg along the mat. Omens are drawn from the direction in which the
pointed end lies when it comes to rest. If it points towards a hostile
village the husband will get heads, if towards the plains money, if
towards the house rice. It is a very bad omen if it points towards the
Road of the Dead. The assistant Ponyiratsen rolls the egg back and the
process is repeated eight times. A sickle is then slid along the mat
eight times and omens are taken from the direction of its point, just
as they were taken from the direction of the pointed end of the egg.
When this is finished the elder Ponyiratsen shakes the two cloths eight
times each to get rid of any evil there may be in them and returns them
to their owners, and as she picks up the mat, gives it a flick and
sends the egg, which is still lying on it, as far as possible in the
direction opposite to that of the Road of the Dead, saying as she does
so, “I am throwing away all evil fortune and poverty.” She then shakes
the mat eight times, and both the Ponyiratsen go to their own houses.
The wife rolls up the mat and stands it on end inside the door between
the mpongki and the lhurhui. The couple must sleep apart that night,
and the mat must not be removed before cockcrow next morning. This
ceremony of the Ponyiratsen is regarded by Lhotas as a sort of
initiation into married life. It is only performed for each individual
once in his life. For example, were a bachelor to marry a widow it
would be performed for him. Were a married man to take a spinster as a
second wife it would be performed for her. But were a married man to
take a widow it would not be performed at all.
Among the Southern Lhotas there are certain differences of detail. The
first ambassador is usually an old man of the bridegroom’s clan. If the
girl’s parents drink the offered “madhu” negotiations are considered to
have begun. Later the old man brings a present of meat and “madhu” and
says, “This is so-and-so’s meat and ‘madhu.’ Will you eat and drink
it?” If the girl’s parents say, “Yes,” the couple are regarded as
engaged, and the man will help in his future father-in-law’s fields and
make himself generally useful, though he sleeps with his parents till
after tsoyuta. For that ceremony the bridegroom prepares “madhu” and
kills and cuts up a pig, and goes to the girl’s father’s house
accompanied either by an old man of his clan and an old woman of the
girl’s clan or vice versa. The old woman enters the house first,
followed by the old man, the bridegroom bringing up the rear. The
girl’s parents offer “madhu” to the old man and woman, drinking in turn
some of the “madhu” which has been brought. It is not mixed as among
the Northern Lhotas. The engaged couple sit on the bed in the lhurhui,
the man to the right and the woman to the left. The old man and woman
sit opposite to them, each holding a leaf containing six pieces of the
pork they have brought, and all four swing their arms backwards and
forwards, while the old man and woman say, “Live long and have many
children.” The lantsoa ceremony is performed as among the Northern
Lhotas. For the halam ceremony a few details are different. The bride
and bridegroom are accompanied to the kithandro, not by two women, but
by an old man of the bridegroom’s clan and the wife of a man of his
clan. The bridegroom does not wave his spear round the hearth, but
carries six pieces of meat and six bobbins of thread, while his wife
carries five pieces of meat and five bobbins of thread, which the old
man takes from the bridegroom’s hand, and the old woman from the
bride’s hand. There is no Hantsen as among the Northern Lhotas.
A well-to-do Lhota usually has two or often three wives. Very
occasionally a man will have four or even five. All are of equal
status, though the oldest wife naturally occupies a position of some
authority in the household. The husband usually sleeps with her in the
middle room. It is forbidden for him to have connection with more than
one wife on the same night. Possibly a vestige of a former system of
group marriage is found in the custom of a Lhota who expects to be away
from home for some time giving his brother permission to have marital
relations with his wife during his absence. [159] On a man’s death his
widow or widows are expected to go to his brother, who will not,
however, receive them into his house till all the ornaments on the dead
man’s grave have been cleared away and he has finally gone to the Land
of the Dead. A man who thus takes his dead brother’s wife performs no
marriage ceremony and pays no marriage price. If the woman marries a
man of another clan, the late husband’s clan realize from the new
husband a marriage price equal to the original marriage price. If a
woman does not wish to marry again she may keep one of her husband’s
mithan heads instead of putting it on his grave. This is equivalent to
a vow of perpetual widowhood.
The money which is paid by the husband for his wife is known
collectively as oman (marriage-price), but is divided into a number of
items. The first payment of all is known as chüka, and is paid not to
the girl’s parents, but to her mother’s father or mother’s brother. The
amount is Re. 1. This is paid as soon as tsoyuta has taken place. The
second item is nzuiman (Rs. 8 to Rs. 10), paid to the girl’s parents as
the cost of bringing her up. Thirdly comes nvaman (Rs. 10), the price
of not working in his father-in-law’s house. The fourth payment is
kitsoman (Rs. 2), the price of not building his father-in-law’s house.
The third and fourth items are of course only paid in cases where the
bridegroom prefers to pay compensation rather than work in his
father-in-law’s house. The fifth item is halamman, the cost of the pork
given to the father-in-law at the halam ceremony. The sixth is
tsangchüman (Rs. 2), paid in cases where the bridegroom does not
distribute wood to members of his father-in-law’s clan. The seventh is
sontsoman (four annas), paid if the bridegroom does not build a granary
for his father-in-law. The eighth is tsoroman (Re. 1), the price of the
bride’s breasts, and the ninth lentamoman (Re. 1), price of intimacy
with the bride. Men with land usually let the girl’s parents cut one
field once. If not, a tenth payment of one rupee or two rupees is made
instead. The eleventh item is otyai-etsoman (the price of feeding the
bride’s brothers), the marriage-price proper. This is shared by the
girl’s father and brothers. It amounts to about two hundred and fifty
baskets of rice, or thirty rupees if paid in cash. The rice or money is
paid in instalments, often at long intervals. The result is that it is
by no means uncommon to find a son paying off the last instalment of
his old widowed mother’s marriage-price. Should a woman die without
children her husband makes a final payment varying from two rupees to
five rupees, called etchhiman (“price of death”). Once they have
received etchhiman the girl’s parents can claim no further instalments
of otyai-etsoman. If the woman dies leaving children a payment of one
or two rupees, called mingishi, is made to her parents or their heirs,
who can in this case claim any of the otyai-etsoman which may be
outstanding.
Divorce.
There is no ceremony connected with divorce as there is among the Aos,
and the proceedings are not protracted, the wife generally settling the
matter by running away to the house either of her parents or some
admirer. In that case all that remains to be done is to discuss the
return of the marriage-price. Sometimes the girl’s parents return the
full amount of the marriage-price which they have received up to date,
plus a fine of ten rupees, and sometimes, in cases where the
marriage-price has already been divided up and spent, it is arranged
that the aggrieved husband shall recover the marriage-price from
whoever marries his runaway wife. In cases where the woman runs off
with another man the co-respondent has to pay the husband the full
amount of the marriage-price, plus compensation amounting to fifty or a
hundred rupees. It is very rarely that a man simply turns his wife out.
If he does so he cannot recover his marriage-price and has to pay her
parents or their heirs a fine of ten rupees. He naturally, therefore,
puts up with a good deal from his wife, sooner than lose his
marriage-price. Among the Aos the divorced wife can claim a share of
the household store of grain. Among the Lhotas she can only claim the
thread and chickens she brought with her at her marriage or their
equivalent, together with the clothes she wears and all the thread
there may be in the house. Any ornaments given her by her husband must
be returned to him.
Death Ceremonies.
In cases where the death agony is prolonged the Changs cut a
carrying-string on the threshold of the house in order to release the
spirit, but there appears to be no such practice among the Lhotas. At
death the nearest relation present closes the eyes and washes the face
of the corpse. No hole is made in the roof to let the spirit out as
among the Konyaks. A very old man ties a cowrie to a chicken’s leg and
places it for a moment in the dead man’s hand. He then kills it in
order that it may go clucking along the Road of the Dead and give
warning that the deceased is coming. It is hung by the neck above the
head of the corpse, and after the burial the wings are cut off and
stuck up on the left wall of the house and the body either thrown away
or given to the buriers (mungpen) to eat. When the deceased is a man
who has taken heads, or killed a tiger, a dog is led into the house on
a string and the string put into the hand of the corpse for a minute.
After the body has been buried the dog is killed in order that it may
go barking down the Road of the Dead and frighten away the ghosts of
enemies and tigers slain by the dead man during his lifetime. The flesh
is eaten by the mungpen. The corpse is buried as soon after death as
possible. A grave about six feet deep is dug in front of the man’s
house. The body is buried fully dressed, and often decorated with all
the ornaments worn during life, if the deceased so desired. Nothing of
foreign manufacture may be worn by a corpse. A cornelian bead is tied
to the dead man’s wrist to give to a spirit called Etchhilivanthamo,
whom he will meet on the Road of the Dead, in exchange for a drink of
water. Among the Northern Lhotas a sharp piece of bamboo is also put
under the head of the corpse at the time of burial, in order that the
soul of the deceased may be able to cut any creepers which he may find
obstructing his way. The body is wrapped in two or three good cloths
and carried out of the house by the mungpen. Over it in the grave are
put short lengths of bamboo laid crosswise, and on them two planks from
the dead man’s bed, which are in turn covered with a piece of bamboo
matting. In certain villages of the Northern Lhotas rich men were till
recently buried in wooden coffins called “boats” (orhung), cut out of
one log of wood, with a rude representation of a hornbill’s head and
tail at the head and foot respectively. [160] It is noticeable that
they were made in villages which do not make dug-out canoes, [161] or
indeed anything more serviceable than a type of bamboo raft which
“floats” about six inches under water. These coffins took a
considerable time to make and were begun as soon as the illness took a
bad turn. If a man recovered after his coffin had been made he was
supposed to live a long time. [162]
Stones and thorns are heaped on the top of the grave to prevent pigs
and dogs scratching up the earth, and a low fence is built round it.
Two bamboo posts are then put up, one at the head and one at the foot,
with a cross-bar between them. In the case of a man’s grave a basket
containing a gourd of “madhu,” a little boiled rice and six pieces of
meat is hung on the post at the head. His wooden dao-holder, and
bear’s-hair wig, cloth, cowrie lengta, ivory armlets, etc., are hung on
the cross-bar, and his spears are stuck upright on the grave. In the
case of a woman’s grave only the basket is hung at the head, containing
five instead of six pieces of meat. A fire is lighted on the grave. For
six days after the death of a man and five days after the death of a
woman no member of the household must speak to a stranger or kill any
living thing. When this period of “genna” is over the man’s possessions
are removed from the grave, and imitation spears, or very old ones, put
in their place. On the cross-bar above the grave round bamboo basket
balls are put to represent the number of times the deceased has done
the head-taking “genna.” Sometimes roughly carved wooden heads are
used. Tigers made from a short length of bamboo, with short bamboo
“legs” and “tail,” commemorate his prowess in the chase. [163] On this
day the wings of the “death chicken” are taken down from the wall, and
cut with a dao on the step between mpongki and lhurhui, six times for a
man and five times for a woman, and a prayer is offered that the dead
person will not haunt the house, and in the case of a man who has taken
heads a mithan and a pig are sacrificed by his clan. For a woman, or a
man who has not taken heads, only a pig is sacrificed. The fire is kept
alight on the grave and the offerings of food are renewed until the
tuku emung, when the dead man is supposed finally to take his departure
to the Land of the Dead, and all ornaments being removed the grave
becomes part of the village street again.
Offerings to the dead are made not only on the grave, but also by the
side of the path from the village which leads to the Land of the Dead
under Wokha Hill. Immediately after death two relations, calling upon
the dead man to follow them, go down the path, taking with them a gourd
of “madhu” and a stick nicked to show the “gennas” the deceased has
performed and the heads he has taken. The stick is stuck up by the side
of the path and the gourd tied to it. These are to support and refresh
the deceased on his way. When the six days of “genna” are over, in the
case of a man, a bamboo erection (nritangpeng) is put up by the side of
the path, with tallies of heads taken and tigers slain such as are put
on the grave. On the memorial of one mighty hunter the writer saw two
elephants made of black cloth stuffed with straw. For a man who has
done no “gennas” a single bamboo pole is put up. On the tuku emung,
when all ornaments are removed from the grave, the final offerings are
made by the side of the path. [164] The relations go out before dawn,
and for a man erect a little bamboo platform or tiny altar composed of
a small flat stone supported on little bits of bamboo. On it are laid
six pieces of meat and some rice and scraps of any favourite fruit of
the deceased. A new dao-belt, with a miniature dao-holder, is stretched
between two sticks, and a little wooden dao and spear are put near it.
Sometimes a little bamboo platform (eno) with a little notched stick
for the ghost to use as a ladder [165] is put up, and on it are laid
ear ornaments and offerings of food and drink, and imitation beads made
from pith. This offering made, the living have performed their duty
towards the dead, and the village can begin a new year with little fear
of hauntings. [166]
Such are the usual funeral ceremonies, but under certain circumstances
the normal procedure is not followed. An infant is usually buried in
the mpongki, the reason given being the rather pathetic one that its
parents do not like to think of it lying out in the rain and the cold.
If a man was killed in war he was buried outside the village and no
ornaments were put on his grave. Like all Nagas, the Lhotas regard
certain forms of death with horror, as being manifestations of
supernatural displeasure. [167] Thus it is that when anyone dies by
drowning, or by falling from a tree, or by fire, or by accidentally
falling on his own spear, or in childbirth, or is killed by a wild
animal, very strict purificatory rites have to be performed, and great
care is taken to burn or cut down a tree from which a man has fallen
and been killed. Except in the case of a man killed by a tiger or
leopard the corpse is buried near the place of death, whether inside or
outside the village. An account of the rites following a death by
drowning will illustrate the procedure followed. The body is buried by
the nearest relations present, no bead being put on the wrist or
ornaments on the grave. Anyone who touches the corpse must at the first
opportunity throw away all ornaments and clothing he was wearing at the
time. Other people present need not do more than throw away a thread
from their clothes and the cotton wool from their ears, and scrape a
shaving off their spears and dao handles. Any fish caught before the
man was drowned, if the catastrophe took place while fishing, as is
often the case, may be cooked and eaten on the spot, but nothing must
be carried away. Each man as he leaves the river flicks the water with
his right hand and says, “Take away all evil, O river.” As soon as the
news of the disaster, for such it is, reaches the village an old man
comes out and makes a fire on the path, using a fire-stick to do so.
Every man before he can enter the village must step through the smoke
of the fire, and hold his ornaments and weapons in it for a moment.
[168] Someone is standing ready with a “chunga” of water, and each man
washes his hands before he passes on. Even a stranger from another
village must do this before he can enter his own village, lest he
should bring with him the evil with which he is contaminated. The house
and all the property of the dead man are abandoned. His money is simply
thrown on the ground and left there. His live-stock cannot be killed,
for that would defile the dao. The animals are just left to wander
about, or are driven over a cliff if they become a nuisance. [169] No
money or debts in kind due to the dead man can be claimed, and his
heirs in turn need not pay any of his debts. His house is left to fall
into ruins with all it contains. His crops are abandoned and any land
he was cutting that year must next be cut by a man of another clan,
though an old man of the dead man’s clan may take rent for it. For the
purification of the members of the household the following rites are
performed among the Northern Lhotas. Friends of the dead man build a
little shed and put some clothes and food in it. An old man of his
clan, on the day after the death, lights a fire in front of the house
and sacrifices a cock. The whole household must then come out of the
house stark naked and step over the fire. They then enter the shed,
where they put on clothes and remain for six days without speaking to
anyone. Friends bring them food, and build a new house for them. Among
the Southern Lhotas the usual custom is for the household to remain in
the old house for six days. A cock is then sacrificed, and they pass
through the fire and wash their hands and feet and go to a little house
built for them outside the village, where they remain for six days,
being fed by their friends. They then again are made to pass through
the fire and change their clothes and wash and have their hair cut,
after which they are ceremonially clean. The task of the man who
sacrifices the chicken is regarded as a particularly risky one. Lhotas
near the Sema border usually call in a Sema to perform this unpleasant
duty. The Sema is not over nice in these matters and willingly
sacrifices the chicken, receiving as his reward any of the live-stock
of the deceased which he likes to kill and carry away. He must not,
however, take away beads or money which might pass from hand to hand
and eventually reach some Lhota. The people of Yekhum were recently
very much distressed because some Semas carried off some money which
had been thrown away, and complained that they would not know whether
any rupee in circulation was from this tainted source or not. If a man
is killed by a tiger or leopard the body is not buried, but is put on a
platform in a tree and panjis are set underneath. This is the only
example of tree “burial” among the Lhotas, [170] though the Aos
invariably lay out their dead on machans, and the Konyaks beyond them
actually put their dead bodies in trees in certain villages. Such
horror have the Lhotas of being killed by wild beasts that if a man who
is being chased by an elephant throws down his load and the elephant
touches it he may never pick it up again, for it “belongs to the
elephant,” and were he to take it back some elephant would assuredly
take his life in exchange. Similarly the shaft of a spear broken by a
tiger may never be used again, or the owner will have to give his life
in exchange for the spear. No direct descendant of a man killed by a
tiger or leopard may eat meat from a tiger or leopard’s kill until he
has removed the curse by cutting off the head of a tiger. The wife of a
man under this prohibition must observe it, but the husband of a woman
under it may eat meat from a kill, but must not give it to his wife. No
one may eat the flesh of an animal which has been drowned, or has died
in giving birth to young. Were Lhotas strictly logical they would
prohibit the eating of meat from a tiger’s or leopard’s kill. As it is,
it is regarded as unclean and meat is prohibited for anyone who has to
remain ceremonially clean. Ordinarily, however, it may be eaten, for to
forbid it entirely would be a great hardship in a country where such
large numbers of live-stock come to this untimely end. Lightning, as is
only natural, is looked upon as an instrument of supernatural
vengeance. Even if no one be killed, a house struck by lightning is
abandoned with all it contains. A tree struck by lightning cannot be
cut up for firewood or used for any purpose whatever. Should a field be
struck, no crop is cut that year from the place where the lightning
fell. The rest of the crop may be eaten, but no seed is kept from that
field. The stone adzes which are sometimes found are regarded as
thunderbolts and are called Potsophü (“Potsos’ axes”), and no Lhota
cares to touch one.
Miscellaneous Beliefs.
[Medicine Men.] Some Lhotas say that the peculiar powers believed to be
possessed by medicine men (ratsen) are hereditary. [171] Most people
hold, however, that anyone, man or woman, is liable to develop the
symptoms which are associated with ratsen. The person affected falls
into a fit at the dark of the moon, and while in this state says that
friends are coming, though none of the bystanders can see anything.
These fits are liable to occur throughout life at the change of the
moon, and are certainly very violent. I myself saw Yimbomo of Rephyim,
a well-known ratsen, fall into a sudden fit down at the Doyang river
when a large number of men were “poisoning” the water for fish. He
laughed and shouted incoherently, and kept throwing himself onto the
ground with such violence, that two men had to be told off to restrain
him. In order to bring a man round from these fits powdered ginger is
blown into his nose and ears. When a man shows these symptoms for the
first time an experienced ratsen is called in to diagnose the case. If
he proclaim it to be genuine he strangles a cock, from the head of
which he is believed to extract a small stone called ratse’ha. This
stone he gives to the budding ratsen, who is supposed to keep it inside
his head, and occasionally even show it to very intimate friends. It is
said that a few years ago ’Ntengo of Lungsachung was foolish enough to
show his stone to a rival ratsen called Khumeshiyo of the same village,
who grabbed it and managed to retain possession of it. The result was
that ’Ntengo went mad and died soon afterwards.
Every ratsen possesses a “familiar” (sonyo), which is usually a
leopard, [172] but occasionally a snake. The Lhotas are perfectly
familiar with the “leopard men” who are found among the Semas, and
clearly distinguish them from their own ratsen. They say that the soul
of the Sema “leopard man” actually enters his leopard, while the ratsen
is merely very intimately connected with his sonyo, which is an
ordinary leopard indistinguishable in form from other leopards. If,
however, the sonyo of a ratsen is killed the ratsen will sicken and
perhaps die unless he can get another. As the powers of the ratsen grow
so his sonyo increases in size, until in time it may even become
unmanageable. This happened to a ratsen from Akuk called Mungchemo. His
leopard became so big and fierce that he begged the villagers to kill
it. They ringed it, but Mungchemo, who was helping, shouted in his
excitement and so gave the leopard sufficient warning for it to escape.
This failure to get rid of his sonyo so weighed on his mind that he
eventually committed suicide. Ordinarily, however, the sonyo is
believed to be under such excellent control that its owner can call it
up from the jungle at will. This he rarely does, however, for if
another man sees his sonyo the ratsen becomes ill. There are numerous
stories, however, of leopards having been seen actually in ratsens’
houses. Naturally a ratsen ordinarily objects strongly to his sonyo
being killed, for it may entail his own death. The result is that
several villages have told their ratsen that since he cannot stop his
leopard killing their pigs they cannot allow him to be present when
they ring the leopard, for at leopard hunts the ratsen is supposed to
warn the quarry either by shouting to it or spitting on bits of
worm-cast and throwing them towards it. In some places if a ratsen’s
leopard is hunted and killed he lays a cloth over the body as a mark of
respect. The fits from which a ratsen suffers are believed to be in
some way connected with his sonyo. They usually occur at the dark of
the moon, at which time he has most influence over his leopard, and
when he falls in a fit the soul of the leopard is believed to walk over
his body. The soul is of course invisible, but visible tracks are
supposed occasionally to be left on the ratsen’s chest.
In addition to the ordinary food taboos a ratsen is forbidden to eat
bamboo rats, frogs, or king-crows. They are supposed to be able to
foretell the future by gazing into “madhu,” or water held in a leaf,
but their chief occupation in life is to “extract” foreign bodies from
the persons of sick people. This is always done inside a house where
the bad light makes sleight of hand easy. The patient is rubbed with a
leaf, usually a wild lemon leaf, upon which the ratsen repeatedly
spits. Finally he will show the patient a small pebble or a bit of leaf
or hair, which he says was causing all the trouble by lodging in the
body. In cases of laboured breathing the ratsen says that there is a
hole in the lungs. He then by sleight of hand makes a leaf seem to
disappear into the patient’s chest, and after a few minutes extracts it
and announces that the hole is now stopped up. Coughs are usually cured
by pretending to extract a lump of hair from the throat. Usually the
foreign body which is extracted is simply thrown away anywhere, but in
cases of rheumatism, which is regarded as in some way especially
connected with lightning, the ratsen “extracts” bits of wood from the
patient’s joints and throws them away near a tree which has been struck
by lightning. Into the trunk of the tree he sticks a piece of iron,
which he leaves there, and throws down one or two eggs as an offering.
Often the ratsen will say that the illness is due not to the presence
of a foreign body, but to the capture of the patient’s soul by an evil
spirit. He will then announce the whereabouts of the evil spirit in
question, and the appropriate ceremonies must be performed. These have
been described under the section on private ceremonies.
[Luck-stones.] The Lhota believes that certain stones called oha bring
good fortune. They are smooth, water-worn stones, varying in size from
that of a man’s head to that of a walnut, and are kept either under the
mingetung, or at the foot of the carved post of the “morung,” or by
individuals in their houses or granaries. Ratsen, however, as has been
mentioned above, are believed to have the peculiar habit of keeping
their oha inside their heads. Those kept under the mingetung are
usually large, and on them the luck of the whole village depends. Those
kept in the “morung” affect the prosperity of the section of the
village to which they belong. Stones of these two classes have been
handed down from generation to generation and are never added to
nowadays, though they are believed occasionally to increase
spontaneously. But individuals still from time to time find small oha
in the jungle and bring them home to keep as private luck-stones. The
distinguishing mark of an oha is that it should be round and smooth,
and be found resting on the ground in a little nest it has made for
itself. [173] Anyone finding such a stone brings it home, and then
notices whether his family increases quickly, or he has good crops, or
is particularly successful in trade. He thus finds out what particular
form of good luck is attached to the stone in question. Bad oha are not
unknown. One kind called ekyulung (“coughing-stones”) causes the owner
to fall ill. Yet to throw them away would mean certain death. The
possessor of an oha which brings luck in trade keeps it with his money.
Similarly a rice oha is kept in the granary. A famous oha is the
Phi-tsong-lung (“drying-increasing-stone”), which is in the possession
of a member of the Othui clan at Pangti. It is said to be a portion of
the famous stone at Kezakenoma, [174] called by the Lhotas
Ketsarhontsü, which miraculously increased rice dried on it, and was
broken off by Rangti, grandson of Longchentang, who according to one
tradition came out of the earth and founded the Mipongsandri phratry.
This was before the Angamis, Semas, Rengmas and Lhotas split up and
became separate tribes. Formerly the Othui clan used to provide one of
the Puthis at Pangti, and the Puthi of the Othui clan always used the
Phi-tsong-lung as a pounder for husking the rice at the ceremony of
eating the first-fruits (mshe etak). There are only a few broken
fragments of the stone left now, which are kept with other oha in the
possessor’s granary. Oha are treated with great respect. The ceremony
connected with them at the Oyantsoa “genna” has already been described.
Before doing the Liritang ceremony at the beginning of harvest a man
must make a small offering of meat to his oha. [175] At the time of the
Pikuchak “genna,” too, all possessors of rice oha must inspect them,
taking care to wash their hands both before and after. It is curious
that the reason given why the Nyimshamo kindred of the Othui clan in
Yekhum cannot set up stones after doing the mithan sacrifice, is that
they have never been allowed to touch the village oha, when they had to
be carried on migration, or indeed to have had anything to do with oha.
What the connection is, however, between the two kinds of stone is not
precisely stated.
[Charms.] Love potions are commonest in the villages near the plains. I
remember a youthful widow of Sanis who was so indiscreet as to get
engaged to two men in two different villages at the same time. When the
tangle was brought to me to unravel she said she really had only meant
to get engaged to one, but the other one had rubbed a love charm on her
neck—at least she thought that was what he must have done, though she
had not actually noticed him do so.
Certain old women are supposed to possess the knowledge of these
charms, which is handed down from mother to daughter. One Amhono of
Pyangsa is said to retail a root called loha, which has to be ground up
and given to the shy loved one with cooked fish. [176] If the suit is
hopeless the recipient of the root removes all doubt by being sick on
the spot. My informant had never seen the root; he had only heard of
it. Another charm is a feather of a bird called tsentsü—probably
mythical, at least I could never find out what it was. If a man can
once touch a woman’s hand with this she is his for life.
Witchcraft, in the evil sense of the word, was probably never common
among the Lhotas, though the practice used to exist of making a straw
image of an enemy in another village, and after addressing it by name
spearing it. This, however, could never be done by one Lhota to
another. It is believed to be possible, too, to bewitch a man by
calling a stone or bit of wood by his name and cursing it. This belief
in the power given by knowledge of a man’s name is of course
world-wide, and among the Lhotas gives rise to the custom of giving a
false name at birth in order that the lurking evil spirits may go away
thinking they have the real name. Besides their ordinary name most, if
not all, Lhotas have a private name which is never revealed to any but
relations or intimate friends. If two men bear the same name they
regard themselves as bound together by a particularly close tie and
address each other as akam. Similarly Lhotas are particular that no
enemy should get hold of bits of their hair or clippings from their
finger or toe nails. While the Naga Labour Corps were on their way back
from France some Lhotas planned to offer to cut some Semas’ hair for
them, and do “genna” with the clippings when they got home. [177] The
plan was only just vetoed in time by one of their own headmen. The
commonest charm against evil spirits is a kind of wild mint called
rarakham (Ocimum basilicum). [178] At all “gennas,” or when going to a
place supposed to be haunted by evil spirits, a Lhota wears a sprig in
the lobe of his ear and rubs some in his hair. A small onion (sandhra)
or a cowrie carried on the person is also considered to be effective.
Apparently the only charm used to make crops grow is a piece of
rhinoceros (molung) bone hidden near the field. [179] It must be many,
many years since any Lhota has killed one of these animals, but I am
assured that pieces of bone are still carefully treasured, though they
are never shown to strangers.
[Ghosts.] Ghost stories abound. The following one, which was told me by
a man from Rephyim, is typical: “One day I was coming up from the
fields with others when I saw my elder brother’s wife coming down to
meet us. We called out to her, but she did not answer, only coughed and
spat and turned aside into the jungle. When I got up to the village I
found she had died in her husband’s house while we were down at the
fields.” Another one, also from Rephyim, runs as follows: “When my
brother and I were children we met our uncle on our way up from the
fields, but when he got near us he disappeared up into the sky and
threw down a big stick and a stone. The stick just missed us, but the
stone fell into my brother’s basket.” A very common story is that of
hearing someone cutting jungle near the path, and on going there
finding nothing. It is very unlucky to be touched by a ghost (omon). A
man called Mhomo is said to have been caught by the leg by a ghost and
died as a result. If the sound of cutting is heard from a bamboo clump,
and it is found that there is no one there, the owner of the bamboos
will die in the course of the year. To hear at night the sound of
someone stamping down the earth on a grave means that there will be a
death in the village shortly. The only ghostly animal I have heard of
is a serow said to exist near Okotso. One man’s gun is said to have
missed fire ten times while the animal stood and looked at him, while
another man threw his spear clean through it, and instead of killing
the serow was ill himself for a year. [180]
[Dreams.] Like all primitive people the Lhota attaches great importance
to dreams. [181] In them he believes that the souls of the dead visit
him, and his own soul leaves his body and wanders. [182] Thus, if a
sick man in his delirium dreams that he is in a certain place he knows
that his soul is under the influence of some evil spirit which is
drawing it to that place, and takes steps to appease the fiend with
sacrifice. Or if a man fights with another man in his dreams he
believes that the two souls really meet and fight. To dream of the
building of a new “morung” forebodes ill to the village, for the
dreamer’s soul has travelled to the land of the dead and seen a new
village being prepared there for those who are about to die. If a man
dreams that he is carrying a child along the Road of the Dead the child
will die, and the dreamer may die too. But to dream that he is driven
back by dead men means that he will have long life, for the souls of
those gone before are not yet ready to receive him. [183] If in his
dream a man go to another village he will not live long, for the other
village is really that in the Land of the Dead, to which his soul has
gone on ahead. Similarly, to kill a chicken in a dream is bad, for the
chicken seen is the soul of that which will be killed at the dreamer’s
death not long after. It is most unlucky to dream of dead men, for it
means that they have come to call the dreamer. The only way of averting
the disaster is to kill a big boar and give the meat to an old
professional dreamer (hahang), who offers it to the souls of the dead
in his dreams. The night before hunting too it is most unlucky to dream
of a successful hunt, for it means that the dreamer’s spirit has been
out hunting and driven all the game away. [184]
Many dreams are regarded as symbolical. For example, dream water = real
crops, so that a vision of a deep pool means a good harvest, but a dry
nullah means a lean year. Similarly, dream jungle roots = real meat, so
that to dream of digging and finding many roots means that large
presents of meat will be received, but unsuccessful digging means small
presents. Again, dream fire = real children. A fire which burns up well
when the dreamer lights it means a big family, but a fire that goes out
foretells deaths in the home. To see an earthquake or one’s own teeth
falling out is regarded as particularly unlucky and forebodes the
certain death either of the dreamer or of one of his family. Anything
red, such as a red spear or red goat’s-hair, represents man’s blood and
means that someone will get hurt.
[View of the Forces of Nature.] The earth is regarded as flat and
stretching to an unknown distance in all directions. In the west, where
the sky meets it, lives a big snake which sometimes causes earthquakes
by moving its body. [185] During an earthquake the meat rack over the
fire and the vat in which the daily supply of rice is kept are seized
and held by the inmates of a Lhota house. If this is not done it is
believed that supplies will fail the next year. [186] The sky is
regarded as being hard like a stone, and forming the floor of the world
of the Potsos, who in turn have another sky and Potso world above them,
and so on for an unknown number of worlds. It used to be nearer to the
earth than it is now, but for some reason not known it has gradually
got further and further away. The sun is a flaming plate of hard metal
as big as a piece of ground on which one basket of seed rice is sown.
It travels along its path in the sky during the day and at night
travels back under the earth and lights the Land of the Dead. The moon
is like it. In fact, it was once the brighter and hotter of the two,
till the present sun, seeing that the earth was being scorched and
burnt with the terrible heat, smeared the face of the moon with
cow-dung, so that it now gives a very feeble light. [187] An eclipse of
the sun or moon occurs when a giant dog which lives in the sky tries to
eat them. [188] An eclipse means that many great men will die, and the
day after one is kept as an emung. Stars are little points of fire, and
are vaguely regarded as being endowed with life. Shooting stars are the
falling dung of stars. The clouds have nothing to do with rain, which
is poured down by the Potsos from reservoirs in the sky. They are
simply the accumulated smoke of thousands of fires all over the earth.
The belief with regard to hail is a curious one. The Potsos who live in
the sky have above them yet another world of Potsos, who are evil and
try to injure the Potsos living nearest to us by throwing down huge
lumps of ice on them. But whenever a fusillade begins the lower Potsos
take care to walk about with the door of their houses held over their
backs like rain-shields. The lumps of ice are shattered on the doors
and only reach the earth as small fragments which men call hail.
PART V
FOLK-TALES AND SONGS
[Folk-tales.] Like all Nagas [189] the Lhotas possess a great store of
traditional tales. The old men tell them and teach them to the younger
generation, having themselves learnt them from their forefathers. Every
tale is supposed to be told word for word as it has been handed down,
but versions naturally vary from village to village. To a tale which
most of them must know by heart the audience listens as if none of them
had ever heard it before, greeting every joke with laughter and
appreciating every point. A very popular class of story is that which
explains the peculiarities of various animals. Some of these stories
closely resemble those current among the Semas and other tribes. The
following are typical examples.
The Sambhur and the Hanuman Monkey. [190]
This is a tale of the old days before deer and other animals became so
different one from the other. The sambhur and the hanuman monkey became
sworn friends. In those days the sambhur had a long tail, while the
hanuman monkey had no tail at all. One day the hanuman monkey asked the
sambhur for his tail and said, “Friend, I want to put on your tail and
see how it becomes me. Please lend it to me.” Then the sambhur said,
“Put on my tail, friend, and see how it becomes you,” and gave him his
tail. But the hanuman monkey, as soon as he had put on the sambhur’s
tail, climbed away up into a tree. Then the sambhur said, “Come down,
friend, and give me back my tail,” but the hanuman monkey would not.
Then the sambhur, wondering how he should make himself a tail, pulled
out his own liver and made a tail of it and put it on. Men say that
that is why even nowadays sambhur tail is so good and tastes like liver
to eat.
The Wild Boar and the Tiger.
The wild boar and the tiger were sworn friends. One day when they met
in the jungle the wild boar said to the tiger, “My friend, let us two
fight and see which will get the better of the other and which will
fear the other. What will you take to protect yourself?” Then the tiger
said to the boar, “I will take cane and wind it round my body,” but the
boar said, “I shall smear clay all over myself.” They arranged that the
fight should take place six days later. Then the boar for six days did
nothing but smear clay over himself, letting it dry after each coating,
and the tiger did nothing but cut lengths of cane and wind them round
his body. Then when the six days were up they fell to and fought. Now
whenever the tiger flew at the wild boar and bit him, all he got was a
mouthful of clay, but the boar, whenever he attacked and bit the tiger,
bit through a piece of cane, till he had bitten them all through one by
one and killed the tiger. But when the boar was going away after his
victory a thin piece of bamboo ran into him. Then he said, “I have
killed the tiger. What is this doing running into me?” and seized it in
his mouth. But the thin bamboo cut his tongue off so that he died on
the spot. [191] Then another tiger came along and saw the body and ate
it. That is why nowadays tigers eat wild boars. Yet it is said that
because the tiger could not beat the wild boar at first, a tiger cannot
catch one now unless he bides his time and stalks it for two or three
months.
Rivalling in popularity the stories of animals is a large group of
stories about a mythical individual whom the Northern Lhotas call
Apfuho and the Southern Lhotas Yampfuho. He is spoken of as having
lived in the old, old days when men and animals spoke the same
language. [192] In his day, it is believed, there was a terrible
earthquake and the whole world became dark. [193] Apfuho clung to a
rock, and when light came and the world as we know it had come into
being he had been turned into stone. Some Lhotas say that the rock,
with Apfuho’s petrified dao-holder, can still be seen near Lakhuti, but
most people hold that it is not known where he met his end. He
corresponds exactly to the Sema character Iki, [194] and many of the
stories told of the two are identical. He is always represented as
getting in and out of scrapes, and as tricking his fellow-villagers or
his friend the tiger, usually in the meanest possible way. The name of
his village is never mentioned and there is no tradition as to where he
lived. The following are typical stories of his exploits.
Apfuho and the Old Woman.
One day an old woman set her rice on the fire to boil and went into her
outer room to pound oil seed. Apfuho came along carrying another man’s
dog which he had killed, and called out to the old woman, “Your rice is
boiling over.” When the old woman went back into the inner room to look
at her rice, Apfuho put the dog which he was carrying on her pounding
table and called out, “A dog is eating your oil seed, old woman.” Then
the old woman came running out to see, and hit the dead dog which
Apfuho had put on the pounding table. At this Apfuho cried out, “Oh
dear, oh dear, you have killed another man’s dog. If you do not give me
your pig I will tell the owner.” So the old woman said, “I will give
you my pig. Do not tell the owner.” At dusk when Apfuho came to fetch
the pig he fixed lighted torches all along the path, and said to the
old woman, “Give me your pig. Look how many men are coming with the
owner of the dog, carrying lighted torches in their hands.” To this the
old woman replied, “I will give you my pig. Go and tell them not to
come.” So he went and put out the torches and threw them away, and came
back and took the pig. But as he was taking the pig away he murmured,
“What a fool of an old woman.” Her daughter heard this and said, “He
called you an old fool, mother.” But Apfuho heard her say this and
replied. “I only said ‘oo,’ girl,” [195] and the mother said, “Yes,
yes, Apfuho only said ‘oo’.” So Apfuho went off with the pig. [196]
Apfuho and the Tiger.
This is a tale of the olden days when men could understand the talk of
animals. Apfuho and the tiger went across a river to hollow out vats
from a log on the other side. When they had finished their vats and the
time came to return, the tiger asked Apfuho the best way to carry his
vat across the river. Apfuho told him to carry it rim upwards, [197]
and the tiger did as Apfuho told him. But Apfuho carried his own vat
upside down and was able to cross the river, while the tiger, try as he
would, could not cross the river with his vat rim upwards. Apfuho
called out, “I will pull you out,” but instead of doing so he threw
stones into the tiger’s vat and pushed him away from land with a forked
stick so that he was washed right downstream. Then Apfuho went along to
see if the tiger was drowned or not, and found him lower down by the
water’s edge. When the tiger saw Apfuho he cried, “Here is my enemy,”
and tried to devour him. But Apfuho espied a hornets’ nest by the water
and said, “The men of the ‘morung’ have set me to watch the ‘morung’
drum, father tiger, and see that no stranger beats it.” Then the tiger
said, “May I beat it and see what it is like?” and Apfuho replied, “I
will ask the men of the ‘morung.’ You stay here, and if they say you
may beat it, I will shout and tell you.” So he went a long way off and
shouted back, “They say you may beat it.” Then when the tiger hit the
hornets’ nest all the hornets attacked and stung him, [198] and he ran
and ran until he fell down a cliff and was killed.
How the Villagers tried in vain to put an end to Apfuho.
The villagers, meaning to put an end to Apfuho, took him with them down
to a big pond. Then when they got to the water they all began swinging
out over the pool on a creeper swing. They made Apfuho use the swing
last and went away and left him, thinking he would fall off into the
middle of the pond and be drowned. Apfuho kept swinging and swinging
and could hardly hold on any longer, when he espied a man and a woman
wearing fine ornaments and leading a mithan by a rope. He saw that they
were an eloping couple and called out to them, “Who are you? There is a
beautiful breeze here which makes swinging very pleasant. Take off your
ornaments and put them on the ground and tie up the mithan. Then pull
me in with a hooked stick and come and have a swing yourselves.” So
they did as Apfuho told them, and took their ornaments off and put them
down and pulled Apfuho in with a forked stick, and both began to swing.
But when they asked Apfuho to pull them in, instead of doing so he let
them fall into the water and drown. Then Apfuho put on their ornaments
and took their mithan and went up to the village. And the villagers
were astonished and said, “Where have you come from with those
ornaments and that mithan, Apfuho?” And he said to them, “In the middle
of the pond there are many ornaments and many mithan too. I only
brought away these. If you too want to get some you should go and dive
into the pond.” Then all the villagers said to him in chorus, “Take me,
Apfuho; take me, Apfuho.” So a few days later Apfuho led the villagers
in a body down to the water. There he picked them up one by one and
threw them in. Of the men who sank quietly he said, “The ornaments and
mithan he gets won’t be very good.” But when people struggled hard,
with the water pouring from their mouth and nose, he said, “The
ornaments and mithan he gets will be splendid.” So he let all the
people of the village whom he had thrown into the water drown. [199]
Now a blind old woman was stumbling along, feeling her way by the
water’s edge. Apfuho put an old worn dao in front of her, and when she
found it as she groped she said, “Well, if a person like me can find
this, people with no infirmities will get a lot.” Then Apfuho went up
to her and said, “Now, old woman, you go in too. What are you doing on
the edge?” and with these words he caught her and threw her into the
middle of the pond so that she was drowned.
The audience always appreciates a play upon words such as occurs in the
story of Apfuho and the Old Woman. All Nagas love a pun. A good one is
immortal. Ao women—a most pugnacious section of the human race—pun on
the names of their adversaries most elaborately. In some Lhota stories
practically the whole point depends on a pun. The following is an
example.
The Old Man and His Dogs.
Long, long ago, before the Great Darkness came, there lived a man who
kept wild dogs, as men now call them. With his dogs he killed and ate
many deer. But at last he got so old that he could no longer go into
the jungle with his dogs. So he called them all to him and brought them
to his house. There he cooked enough rice for each to have a share, but
when he divided it up it did not go round properly and the youngest dog
got none. Then the old man said, “My dogs, I am very old and can no
longer go out hunting with you. But do not forget how I looked after
you and cared for you. When you kill a deer, always leave a leg (ocho)
for me at the cross-roads.” When the dogs had gone away they quite
forgot what the old man had said to them. Now the youngest dog was
angry with the old man because he had given him no rice. So when the
other dogs asked him what the old man had said he replied, “The old man
said, ‘Whenever you kill a deer, leave dung (ochü) for me at the
cross-roads.’” That is why to this day wild dogs leave their droppings
at the cross-roads. [200]
The types of story described so far have all been more or
less humorous. Some tales, however, teach a definite
moral lesson; for example, the following.
The Story of the Two Brothers.
There were once two brothers. The elder was poor, but the younger was
very rich. The younger brother ignored the elder and kept all his care
and affection for his friend. One day the younger brother said to his
friend, “My friend, to-day we will go and pick and eat red berries.” So
saying they went. The younger brother climbed the tree, and while he
was picking and eating the berries smeared himself all over with the
red juice. Then he called out, “Friend, friend, I am falling,” and
tumbled out of the tree. His friend climbed down and looked at him as
he lay on the ground and said, “You are no relation of mine. I shall
not look after you. I will go and tell your brother and get him to
come.” With these words he went away without attending to him at all.
But his brother came and saw him, and looking at him said, “My brother,
forgetful one, when you were alive you scorned and neglected me and
kept all your love and affection for your friends.” With these words he
picked him up to carry him, but the younger brother said, “Brother,
there is nothing the matter with me,” and got up and himself carried
his elder brother home. Thereafter the friends were friends no more,
but the two brothers loved one another. That is why men say that there
is nothing in life equal to the love of one’s own relations.
The Widow and the Boys of the Morung.
Old men say that when the Lhotas settled at Nungkamchung [201] a widow
had a big pig. One day the boys of the “morung” took the pig, promising
to pay for it with rice. But they did not pay, though every day the
widow came and said, “Give me back my pig which you bought for rice.”
At last she took her iron staff and poured magic powder [202] into it
and walked round the “morung,” saying, “Give me back my pig which you
bought with rice. Give it back. Give it back,” tapping the ground with
her staff as she went. Suddenly the ground opened wherever she had
tapped it with her staff containing magic powder, and all the inmates
of the “morung” were swallowed up, only those in the front room having
time to jump to their feet and escape. The village all set to work to
dig them out, but could not dig out a single man, only a wisp of
thatch.
Stories of the Water Spirit (Tchhüpfu) are common, and usually describe
a visit paid by someone to his lair in a deep pool, as in the
following.
The Boy and the Water Spirit.
One day a boy went down to the Doyang to fish. When he did not return
home in the evening his parents became very anxious, and in the morning
his father took some men down to search for him; but he was nowhere to
be found. Then his father was sad at heart and went wandering alone
along the Doyang, determined to find at least the dead body of his son.
As he went he saw a hair on the ground, and picked it up, thinking it
belonged to his son. But it was so long that he only picked up one end
of it, and walked on winding it round and round his finger. He went on
and on until he had passed eight bends of the river, so long was the
hair. At last he came to a Water Spirit, for the hair was one of the
Water Spirit’s which he had forgotten to wind round his head. Then the
Water Spirit cried out, “Let me go,” but the man replied, “You have
seized my son and taken him to your home in the water. I will not let
you go till you bring him out and give him back to me.” Then the Water
Spirit said, “Let me go and I will bring your son and leave him here.
If you do not believe me you may make me swear the most solemn oath
known to men.” At this the man let him go, and the Spirit gave him a
gift of friendship, dried fish and fresh fish and fish paste, and said,
“In the morning I will bring your son out of the water and leave him
here. Come at the time when men go to their fields and you will find
him.”
Obedient to the words of the Spirit the man came in the morning at the
time when men go to their fields, and there sure enough was his son on
the bank. The tale he told his father was this: “I saw a big fish in
the water, and dived in and caught hold of it. It dragged me into a
hole under the rocks in the pool, where there was no water. There on
the dry sand was a hearth made of three human skulls. It was the lair
of the Water Spirit.” The Water Spirit had not hurt the boy, but had
brought him out and left him on the bank, as he had promised to his
father. So the father found his son safe by the side of the water and
they both went back home. The tale is remembered to this day.
Otherwise tales of supernatural beings are comparatively rare. The
story of Sityingo and Ngazo, two jungle godlings, will serve as a
sample.
The Story of Sityingo and Ngazo.
Sityingo and Ngazo went to dig for bamboo rats. [203] Sityingo caught
many, but Ngazo, though he dug all day, only got one. Then Ngazo said
to Sityingo, “I have only caught this and you have caught so many,” and
showed him the rat. Then Sityingo replied, “Even that you only got
because I gave it to you.” To which Ngazo replied, “What, I have dug
out this rat after digging all day and you say you gave it me!” “Then
let it go,” said Sityingo, “and see whether I gave it you or not.” So
Ngazo let it go as Sityingo said, but the rat burrowed into the ground,
and Ngazo, though he dug and dug after it, could not catch it again.
Then said Sityingo, “You say I did not give it you and yet you cannot
dig it out!” At these words Ngazo became angry and they fell to
wrestling, and Ngazo twisted Sityingo’s neck. That is why Sityingo can
only look one way. Men say to this day that a hunter towards whom
Sityingo looks is sure to get something, but that he from whom
Sityingo’s face is turned away will get nothing at all.
Stories of human beings being turned into birds or beasts are not
uncommon. The following are examples.
How Men became Catfish.
A man took a company of children down to his fields to work. When they
had worked all morning and it was time for the midday meal they asked
him to give them their rice. But the owner of the field and his family
said it was not yet time and would not give them any rice. Then the
children said they were going to bathe and all went off, and said,
“They would not give us our rice in time, so we will become catfish.”
With these words they turned into catfish, calling out, “We are
catfish, we are catfish.” The owner of the field called out, “Come
along, I will give you your rice,” but the children replied, “You would
not give it us before. Now we have forgotten about men’s food. We will
not come,” and swam away in the form of catfish. It is because these
children were wearing dao-holders when they were turned into fish that
catfish always have a mark on them like a dao-holder—so men say.
How Men were turned into Gibbons.
Once upon a time a man called Kimongthang called his sisters’ husbands’
relations together and gave them rice beer to drink and said to them,
“I have cut a chentung tree ready for a sacrificial post. [204] Go and
drag it in for me, but do not let a single leaf fall to the ground.” So
they went and began to drag the tree, but the leaves were half withered
and they kept letting them fall. Then, determined not to let the leaves
fall, they tied them onto the twigs and set to work to drag the tree
again. In spite of this all the leaves fell off. Then they were ashamed
to go back to the village and meet Kimongthang. So they fled away into
the jungle, and the men became mynas and called “Kyon, kyon.” [205] But
the women ground up rice flour to make rice beer and smeared it on
their foreheads and called out, “Woka, woka,” and became gibbons. That
is why the gibbon now has a white forehead. [206]
Another type of story is that which purports to give an account of some
historical episode. Many of them tell of the origin of some particular
clan. That relating to the Kithang clan will serve as an illustration.
The episode of the hair being swallowed by the fish occurs in Assamese
folk-lore, [207] and curiously enough this is the only Lhota story
known to the writer in which the Assamese are mentioned, though the
Lhotas must have been in contact with them for a long period.
The Story of the Kithang Clan.
One day a man of the Kikung clan named Yanzo took his nine dogs with
him and went to hunt deer. But they would do nothing but jump and give
tongue round a tree with a hole in it. Then Yanzo, knowing that his
dogs would not give tongue for nothing, cut down the tree to see what
was inside it, and found in it a jungle man. This man he took home and
brought up and called Kithamo. Kithamo had a son called Mering, for
whom Yanzo arranged a wife called Khamdrio. Now Khamdrio had wonderful
long hair—once and a half as long as a man could span with outstretched
arms. One day when she was washing her head at the river one of her
hairs fell in and was swallowed by a little fish, which went down the
stream and was caught by an Assamese. The fisherman was amazed when he
split open the fish and saw the hair, and took and showed it to the
king. Then the king gave orders that the woman to whom the hair
belonged was to be brought to him, [208] and sent one of his
councillors with his soldiers to Mering’s village. But Mering had
fenced his village with a hedge of stinging leaves, [209] which the
king’s soldiers could not penetrate. Then the councillor ordered his
soldiers to pick one of the leaves and take it back with them. And he
came to the king and said, “The village is fenced with a hedge of this,
so that we could by no means force it.” And the king took and put the
leaf on his stomach under his clothes to see how it would sting, and he
understood how terrible the pain was. Then he sent the councillor to
inquire of Mering whether there was anything of which he was afraid.
And Mering made answer, “There is nothing in the whole world of which I
am afraid. You can only make me afraid by sending up to my village nine
elephants with cotton piled on their backs. That will make me afraid.”
So the king sent up nine elephants to break down the nine hedges of
stinging leaves. Then Mering heated his spear red hot, and waiting till
the elephants had reached the fence, threw it at the first one. The
cotton on its back caught alight, and when the flames reached its body
it ran in among the other elephants and set them alight one after the
other. Then the elephants fled and trampled many of the men to death.
Then the king announced that he would cease to fight with Mering and
would trade with him instead. And he called an Assamese and said to
him, “Take a pot of cornelian beads with you and go up to Mering’s
village. If anyone wishes to buy from you, do not sell, but go on
hawking your wares right through the village, and as you go scatter
beads in the hedge of stinging leaves. Having done this come down to me
again.” And he went and did as he was bade, and the men of Mering’s
village cut down and destroyed all their hedge in their search for the
beads which had been scattered there. Then the king sent men into the
hills with dogs to hunt down Mering, and Mering fled to Yanzo’s village
to take refuge with him. It so happened that Yanzo was building his
house. He therefore made Mering hide under a heap of thatching grass
which was lying ready to hand, and then went and eased himself on the
top of the pile. When the Assamese came up with their dogs they began
to toss the thatching grass to this side and that in their search for
Mering. Then Yanzo said to them, “Your dogs are very clever. Perhaps
they are looking for this filth here.” At these words all the Assamese
were filled with shame and whipped off their dogs and departed. [210]
Because of this Mering and Yanzo broke an iron staff and swore [211] on
it that they would become one clan and would never intermarry.
Afterwards a son was born to Mering whose name was Rapvu. He lived at
Nungkamchung, where a bastard son was born to him of a woman of the
Kikung clan. This son’s name was Lobemo and his descendants still live
at Tsingaki. But the legitimate children of Rapvu are the ancestors of
the Kithang clan.
Tales valued for their intrinsic merit as good stories of adventure are
very numerous, some of them being of considerable length. Examples are
the following.
The Story of Lichao and His Daughter.
Once upon a time wild pigs damaged a man’s crops very badly, so he went
down to hunt them, and wounded one with his spear. This he tracked and
tracked till he came to the house of Lichao, the old man guardian of
wild pigs. There he found two maidens feeding the pig he had wounded.
They asked him what he had come for, but he was afraid to tell the
truth and say that he was tracking a wild pig that he had wounded, so
he replied, “Hearing that there were two beautiful maidens at your
house I came to see, hoping that I might take one as my wife.” Then
they told him to come another day, so he departed.
When the man came a little later Lichao made his slave-girl put on
beautiful ornaments and fine clothes, but his real daughter he made to
sit all in rags and dirty in the outside room. But the man was not to
be deceived. He loved Lichao’s daughter and would only take her. [212]
Now Lichao used to turn into a tiger and eat human flesh. Therefore he
set his son-in-law hard tasks, meaning to devour him if he did not
fulfil them. But when she knew this the maiden said to him, “Whatever
task my father gives you to perform, tell me and I will reveal to you
his purpose.” So one day Lichao said to the man, “Go and pick the
leaves of kotyoh thorns and koremyoi thorns, and bring them without a
single leaf being torn and without a single scratch on your body. If
you do this I will let you depart with my daughter.” Then the girl said
to her husband, [213] “If you come home with the slightest scratch on
your body, or with a single leaf torn, my father will devour you.” So
her husband went and picked the leaves without a single one being torn
and without scratching his body in the least, and rolled them into a
very tight bundle and brought and gave them to Lichao. Then Lichao
said, “Only that amount will not be enough for us,” but when he opened
the bundle to look, the leaves covered all the ground in front of his
house.
A few days later Lichao said, “If you can catch and tie up one of my
pigs alone I will let you take my daughter and go,” and with these
words gave him a length of unsplit cane. Then the man fell to thinking
how he could catch one of the pigs, for they were wild pigs; and his
wife said to him, “If you cannot catch a pig my father will devour
you.” At last he caught a pig, and his wife beat the cane on the ground
to fray it and gave it to him. Thus holding the pig with one hand he
pulled off strips of cane with the other and bound the pig fast. Then
Lichao let him take his daughter and go.
So the girl came to her husband’s house. But there she could get no
human flesh to eat, and soon became so weak and thin that she could not
work. One day her husband said to her, “Why are you so weak and thin?”
To which his wife replied, “I am thin and weak because I cannot get the
food which my parents used to give me.” Then when her husband asked
what her parents used to give her to eat she replied, “I will send you
to fetch a parcel of meat wrapped in leaves from my parents’ house. But
bring it straight here. Do not open it and look to see what is inside.”
So he went, and his wife’s parents gave him some pieces of human flesh
wrapped up in leaves. This he brought straight home to his wife without
opening the leaves to look to see what was inside, and when she ate it
it made her as plump and strong as ever. But in a day or two, because
she could get no more human flesh to eat, she again became so thin and
weak that she could not work. Then she spoke to her husband again and
told him to go and fetch some more meat from her parents’ house. Now
her husband was determined to open the bundle and see what kind of meat
it was that made his wife get well again when she was so thin and weak
that she could not work. But Lichao sent a little bird to go back with
him so that he should not open the parcel of human flesh on the way.
When the man fingered the parcel which Lichao had given him, having it
in his heart to open it, the little bird said to him, “If you open it I
shall tell my father; if you open it I shall tell my father.” So he did
not open it and look inside. But when he had given the parcel of meat
to his wife he went and hid and watched quietly to see what kind of
meat her father had given him to bring. Now it was nothing but human
fingers tied up in leaves that her father had given him to bring. And
his wife undid the leaves and roasted the fingers lightly in the fire
and ate them one after another. Now when he saw this her husband was
much troubled and said, “What meat have your parents sent you? What
meat is that you are eating?” But she said, “Nay, I will not tell you.
You will only be troubled at heart and filled with fear.” But he said,
“I shall not be afraid. Tell me.” Then his wife said, “I shall turn
into a tiger. When I go about the house showing my fangs and roaring
you must slip a basket over me. If you cannot slip a basket over me I
shall devour even you.” With these words she turned into a tiger, and
her husband tried to cover her with a basket but could not, so she
caught and ate him. That is the end of the story.
The Girl who Married a Tiger.
A woman one day went down to her field to fetch some vegetables. She
saw a fine gourd there and was just going to pick it, when a tiger saw
her and said, “That is my gourd. Why were you going to pick it? I shall
kill you.” With these words he caught her, but the woman, who was about
to become a mother, said, “Do not kill me, and I will give you my baby
when it is born,” so the tiger let her go. In due time a daughter was
born to the woman. When the tiger heard of this he kept asking the
woman if her child was born yet, till at last she told the tiger that
it had been born. Soon the tiger asked her if her daughter was strong
enough to fetch firewood and water yet, and whether she was old enough
to be married. But the woman kept putting him off by saying that her
daughter was not yet old enough to carry wood and water and was too
young to marry; till at last she saw that she must keep the bargain she
had made, and told the tiger that the girl was old enough to work as
his wife. But as she sat weaving a cloth for her daughter to wear on
her wedding-day she was overcome with grief when she thought how her
child would surely be killed and eaten by the tiger, and her tears fell
fast on the cloth she was making. Her husband, too, was sad as he
worked at a basket he was making for his daughter to carry when she
went to her husband’s house, and his tears fell fast on the basket.
When the girl saw this she said, “Why are you crying, mother?” and her
mother answered, “I poked myself in the eye with my bobbin.” To her
father, too, the girl said, “Why are you crying, father?” And her
father replied, “I poked myself in the eye with a slip of bamboo.” Then
when the day came her parents gave her in marriage to the tiger.
About a year later a little daughter was born to the tiger and his
wife. When her mother carried her she never cried, but when her father
carried her she cried all the time. So the woman said to the tiger,
“Why do you make our daughter cry so much?” The tiger replied, “It is
because my beard pricks her.” But one day the woman hid herself and
watched, and saw the tiger knock his little daughter’s head “tap, tap”
against a hearthstone and lick up the blood which dripped down. When
she saw this the woman resolved to run away from the tiger, and said to
him, “I am going to fetch some wood. Hold the baby till I come back.”
But the tiger said, “I am coming too.” And whenever she asked him to
look after the baby while she went to get water, or went to the fields
or into the jungle, the tiger always replied, “I am coming too,” and
never let her out of his sight. At last one day she asked him to look
after the child while she went down to the spring to wash its carrying
cloth. [214] So he took the child and she went down to the spring and
set a louse and a flea to wash the cloth, “chuck-chuck, chuck-chuck,”
while she ran off and made for her parents’ house. The tiger, thinking
the noise made by the louse and the flea was his wife washing the
cloth, kept calling out, “The baby is crying. Come up and nurse it.”
But when she did not come up he went down to look for himself, and
found his wife gone and the louse and the flea there instead. Then he
said, “You would play tricks on me, would you?” and crushed the louse
with his thumb-nail, but the flea jumped and got away.
Then the tiger set out to search for his wife and asked everyone he met
whether they had seen her pass. All replied that they had not seen her,
till at last he came to the sangalia creeper, who said she had just
gone by that way. Then he chased and chased her till he came up with
her at dusk at the door of her parents’ house. The woman cried out,
“Mother, come out of the inner room and open the door for me.” But her
mother replied, “Who is that? I have no daughter. My daughter
disappeared long ago,” and would not come out and open the door. Then
the woman said again, “I am your own daughter, mother, whom years ago,
when I was little, you hit on the head with the pigs’ food ladle. Do
you not know me now?” With these words she began to squeeze through the
little opening by the door left for the dogs, but the tiger seized her
legs while her mother seized her head and shoulders. And they pulled
and pulled till she was torn in two and the tiger was left with her
lower half and her mother with the upper half. Then the tiger took his
half to his house and kept watch over it with a whisk so that not a
single fly should settle on it, and buried it. And he wept, saying, “O
my wife, when you were alive I loved you so much that I was careful
always to give you good meat to eat as relish with your rice. You never
had to eat leaves and such-like poor fare.” But her mother said, “Why
do you weep so? We have torn her in half. Now we will cook and eat
her.” And she cooked a little of the flesh from the upper half of the
girl and offered it to the tiger, who refused it, saying, “How can I
eat the flesh of the mother of my daughter?” But at last he ate it.
Then he said, “Human flesh is good,” and went and dug up the portion he
had buried and ate that too. That is how the tiger came to eat human
flesh, and that is why to this day tigers sometimes kill and devour
men.
The ordinary Lhota believes the founders of the tribe came out of the
earth, and does not worry his head as to how they originated in the
world below. The following story, however, is an example of the widely
spread myth that the world was populated by the offspring of a brother
and sister. [215]
Lankongrhoni and the Villagers.
In the days of our ancestors there lived a woman called Lankongrhoni.
She had a son who was very handsome. His name was Arilao. All the girls
admired him only and wished to marry him. They cared nothing for the
other men. So all the men of the village planned to kill him
treacherously. They agreed that on any day when they should all go down
to the river to poison fish, whoever failed to come was to be fined a
big pig. Two or three days later they went down. Then Arilao’s mother
said to him, “Son, do not go.” But he said, “Do you want us to lose our
big pig, mother?” and went. And the men felled a tree on the river bank
and hewed a trough out of it and said, “Let every man lie in the trough
in turn and see if he looks a fine man.” So they each lay down in turn,
but as each man lay in the trough the others kept repeating, “You don’t
look nice, you don’t look nice.” At last they said, “Let Arilao lie
down,” and made him get into the trough, and calling out, “Arilao looks
nice; we are pounding up Arilao, we are pounding up Arilao,” they
pounded him up with the fish poison. Now Arilao had a friend, and he
was very sad because Arilao had been killed that day, and waited
weeping further down stream. Soon the finger-nail of his friend Arilao
came floating down and lodged against him. Then he said, “Is this all
there is left of my friend?” and with these words lifted the nail off
the water, and wrapping it in a leaf slipped it into his belt. The
villagers made a fine haul of fish, but Arilao’s friend was so sad that
he did not trouble to catch a single one. When the villagers trooped
off up towards the village he hung back to the last.
Now Lankongrhoni came to meet her son on the way and asked each of her
fellow-villagers, “Where is your companion?” or “Where is your friend?”
or “Where is your younger brother?” or “Where is your elder brother?”
And each man replied, “He is coming behind, laughing and talking with
the girls. He is just coming.” At last came Arilao’s friend, weeping
and very sad. When Lankongrhoni asked him where his friend was he said,
“The news would make you sad, mother. I will not tell you.” But she
replied, “Do not give way to grief, my son. Tell me.” Then he said,
“Mother, this is all that is left of my friend,” and gave her his
friend’s nail which he had carried up in his belt. Then Lankongrhoni
was very sad, but she hid her grief, and a few days later gave notice
to the village saying, “To-morrow bring all the children to my house. I
am going to kill my big pig and give them a feast there.” So the next
day the villagers brought all their children to Lankongrhoni’s house
and left them there and went down to their fields. Then Lankongrhoni
killed her big pig and feasted the village children on it. Afterwards
she made the children remain shut up in her house while she went
outside and said, “Children, tell me where there are holes in my
house,” and they replied, “There is a hole here, granny,” or “There is
a hole there, granny,” and she stopped up the holes as the children
told her of them. At last she called from outside and said, “Are there
any more holes, children?” And they replied, “There are no more holes,
granny.” Then she said, “I want to light my pipe now. Give me a brand.”
So they gave her a brand and she set fire to the house and burnt all
the children to ashes. But she herself climbed away up a thread thrown
down from the sky and disappeared. [216]
Now the villagers knew nothing of what had happened. But a crow went
from field to field and hopped about in front of the workers dressed in
a skirt like a little girl, and said, “Arilao’s mother has utterly
destroyed the children of the village.” Then the villagers said, “What
does it mean to-day, a crow behaving like that? Surely something has
happened,” and so saying they all went off home. And when they saw that
all their children had been burnt up, each said to his neighbour, “This
is your fault, this is your fault,” and they fell upon each other and
killed each other so that they all died. But two orphans, a brother and
sister, were frightened when they saw this and climbed up into a
fowl-house and hid. Afterwards, all the villagers being dead, there
were none for them to marry, so they became husband and wife, and from
these two, even from their fingers and toes, were born all the men
there are in the world. This is one of the stories which men tell.
A few stories like the following are found which purport to give the
origin of some common saying.
The Woman with a Caterpillar for a Husband.
A man and his wife lived together. Now at night the husband was a man,
but in the day he turned into a hairy caterpillar. His wife did not
know this. One night before she went to sleep she said, “To-morrow I am
going to gather some leaves to eat.” Early in the morning her husband
left the house first and turned into a caterpillar and nipped off the
leaves and waited at the place. Then the woman came and at the sight of
the leaves exclaimed, “Strange, a caterpillar has nipped off the
leaves. I will take them and go.” So saying she took the leaves and
went. But that night when they were in bed she said to her husband,
“To-day I found that a caterpillar had nipped off the leaves I went to
gather.” Then her husband said, “It was I.” At these words she was
greatly troubled, and when he was asleep she gently pushed and pushed
her husband till he fell off the bed into the fire and was burnt. After
that the woman swallowed caterpillar hairs with her food, whenever she
ate, and coughed and coughed till she died. Therefore nowadays if
anyone coughs much people say, “You should not burn a caterpillar.”
The forces of Nature form the subjects of several folk-tales, as the
two following stories show.
The Sun and the Moon.
At the beginning of time what is now the sun was the moon, and what is
now the moon was the sun. In those days when what is now the moon was
the sun it was very hot, so that all the leaves and the trees in the
jungle shrivelled up and died, and men suffered torments from the heat.
Then what is now the sun said to the moon (which was the sun in those
days), “Why do you shine so fiercely that you make all the leaves and
trees in the jungle shrivel up and die, and cause men to suffer
torments from the heat? You by being the sun are making men and leaves
to die from heat and the world will be destroyed. Therefore from to-day
I will not let you be the sun.” With these words he smeared the face of
what is now the moon with cow-dung, and what is now the sun become the
sun. Therefore men say that the dark marks on the moon are where the
sun smeared cow-dung on its face. [217]
The Wagtail and the Owlet.
Long, long ago, about the time that the Great Darkness came upon the
earth, all the birds—for in those days the kinds were not as different
as they are now—met in council to decide how night should follow day.
With one voice they called on the owlet to give his opinion. Then the
owlet said, “Let there be nine days’ darkness and nine days’ light.”
“No, no,” said all the birds, and smacked him on this side of his head
and on that. That is why nowadays the owlet has a flat head. Then all
the birds said, “Who will speak now?” And the wagtail said, “Listen to
me, then; I will speak. Let us make darkness and light alternately, day
by day.” “Yes, yes,” said all the birds, and stroked the wagtail [218]
all over. He used to be as big as a village cock, but because all the
birds stroked him so much he is now very small.
Finally, there is the story of the hero Ramphan and his dao. According
to one tradition Ramphan is supposed to have lived when the Lhotas and
Rengmas were still one tribe, and some Rengmas from Themokedima once
even came to Akuk and claimed the dao, which is still preserved there
as an heirloom. It is a long, thin piece of iron about two feet long
and three inches broad. The spike of the haft is long and evidently
protruded through the wooden haft, which probably existed once. It is
rarely shown to strangers, and never to Southern Lhotas, on the ground
that they approach Akuk from the direction of the Land of the Dead. The
story given below is that told by the present possessors of the dao,
and places the scene of the exploit at Longcham, an abandoned site on
Wokha Hill, whence the Lhotas are supposed to have spread into the
country now occupied by them.
The Story of Ramphan.
When the Lhotas were living at Longcham a tiger caused them grievous
loss. One day it killed all of a party of nine women. Among them was
Ramphan’s wife, who was about to become a mother. At this disaster all
clamoured to abandon the village, but Ramphan said he would go and face
the tiger. First he put on each of his fingers a section of thin
bamboo. Then he took his long dao and lay down among the corpses of the
nine women and waited for the tiger. Soon the tiger came and went to
each corpse and ate a little of the flesh and laid it on one side,
saying as he did so, “This one I killed on her way to the fields,” or
“This one I killed when she went to cut wood,” or “This one I killed on
her way to fetch water,” or “This one I killed when she went to pick
jungle leaves,” or “This one I killed when she went to get vegetables,”
or “This one I killed when she was going down to fish.” At last he came
to Ramphan and said, “This one I do not remember,” and picked him up
and laid him aside, and then settled himself down to sleep. Then one by
one Ramphan began to snap the pieces of bamboo on his fingers to see if
the tiger was asleep or not. But at each snap the tiger pricked up his
ears. At last when he had snapped nine of the pieces of bamboo and
there was only one left, Ramphan thought to himself, “If the tiger is
not asleep when I snap this I am done for.” But when he snapped the
last remaining piece of bamboo the tiger did not prick up its ears, for
it was fast asleep. Then Ramphan rose up and cut off the tiger’s head
with his long dao, and climbed with it up to the top of a high spur and
shouted the shout of a warrior who has taken a head. But he was sad
when he thought of his wife lying dead in the valley below. And he
called to his village men and said, “I have slain our enemy. Do not
desert your village. Wait for me.” But when he reached home he found
that the villagers had already abandoned the place. From far away they
shouted back to him, “We have sprinkled the back of one of our sows
with rice husks, which fall as she walks. Follow the track of that and
come.” Now as Ramphan followed the trail of rice husks he caught up on
the path a woman who was a leper. And the woman, whose name was
Mangtsilo, said to Ramphan, “What does this mean, father? A poisonous
snake here said, ‘Snake-plant, snake-plant, Mangtsilo,’ and glided over
my leg. What does it mean?” Then Ramphan told her to crush up some
leaves of the snake-plant and lay them on her leg. And she did as he
told her and her leprosy was cured. [219] Then Ramphan took her as his
wife.
One day when Mangtsilo was weaving outside her house, Ramphan’s slaves
began to spin their tops near by. They made Mangtsilo’s brothers join
in, and drew them on and on till they came close to her house. Then one
of the brothers recognized his sister Mangtsilo, and went and told his
parents that he had seen a woman exactly like his sister. But his
parents said, “Your sister was lost long ago. Her very bones have
rotted away by now. How could you have seen her?” But he said again and
again that he had seen a woman exactly like his sister, so that at last
his parents went to see and found that it was indeed Mangtsilo. Then
they demanded her marriage price from Ramphan, but Ramphan said, “First
give me the marriage feast and then I will give you the marriage
price.” So her father said, “What can I do? Make and give me only a
bamboo spoon and a bamboo rice-stirrer.” So Ramphan made and gave him
only a bamboo spoon and a rice-stirrer. That is why Ramphan and
Mangtsilo only had one son and one daughter born to them.
SONGS
Not only have the Lhotas a number of traditional songs, but they are
also experts at making up topical songs about any events of local
interest. The singing is unaccompanied either by instrumental music or
dancing. The following is given as an example of a traditional song. It
is sung by men lopping the branches off trees when clearing jungle for
new jhums. The Lhota version with a free prose translation is given, as
no verse translation would give any idea of the swing of the song. It
runs as follows:—
Ana echangcho locho
Sena hambong eshonile.
Ana echangcho locho
Reching hambong eshonile.
Ana echangcho locho
Yizem hambong eshonile.
Ana echangcho locho
Süng chomani yingkale.
Zükitacho yakpowo echilato,
Zükitacho yakwoina elhyu.
The interpretation of this song is as follows:—
On the tree that I am cutting
May a cock minivet perch.
On the tree that I am cutting
May a cock hornbill perch.
On the tree that I am cutting
May a cock king-crow perch.
On the tree that I am cutting
May taro and vegetables grow.
The “madhu” is his who climbs to the top,
The “madhu” grows at the top of the tree.
The music of this song will serve as a specimen of Lhota harmony. I am
indebted to Mrs. Hutton for the notation.
The introductory and final chants precede and follow each verse and are
sung on the syllable a.
Another traditional song is the following lullaby sung by a widow to
her child:—
Ole iyi le he-e,
O iyi e he-e,
O kakao ntitscona chitata chonchiato?
O iyi e he-e,
O zükitacho niyuhungcho chonchiato?
O iyi e he-e,
O zükitacho khencheng soko niyutokoka.
Chitata tichonchia,
O kakao.
Ole iyi le he-e,
O iyi e he-e,
O ango o-o,
O ntitscona chitata chonchiato o?
O iyi e he-e,
O ntena chitata chonchiaka a.
O iyi e he-e,
O kiyonipo etchhi tyengro ekamochina.
O iyi e he-e,
O elaniki shiato nichamkao maka.
O chitata tichonchia a,
O iyi e he-e.
This may be translated as follows, omitting the meaningless chant of
Ole iyi le he-e, etc.:—
“My little one, why are you crying so much?
Is it because you want a drink of ‘madhu’ that you are crying?
I will give you well-kept ‘madhu’ to drink.
Do not cry so much.
O my little one,
O my child,
Why are you crying so much?
Even if you cry like this
Your father, who has become a young brave among the dead,
Cannot come back and call you and take you in his arms.
O do not cry so much.”
Songs composed to celebrate some particular event are meaningless to
anyone who does not know the full details of the circumstances to which
they relate. An interlined and much expanded translation will help to
explain the following specimen. It tells of the various people who were
concerned in the founding of the new village of Japfu from Mekula, a
migration which greatly annoyed those who remained in the old village.
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho yanthan yanra Pithango.
(Ho for Pithango plotting to found the new village of Japfu.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho yangen yanra Renowo.
(Ho for Renowo of the old village plotting to stop them going.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho chapha Tsirenthang.
(Ho for Tsirenthang as fat as a carrying basket.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho oyam phanka Zaremo.
(Ho for Zaremo, who went because he could never say No.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho maorale Konchiyo ho esonlanicho.
(Ho for Konchiyo, the old man, burrowing into the scheme like a
beetle in straw.)
Ho hati lishomo kamiki.
(He has become as fond of heavy jungle as a giant tortoise. [220])
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho Japfu lantyulo ho epyu kalamo?
(Will you creep on all-fours up to Japfu on the height?)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho nthang tera Rishamo.
(Ho for Rishamo as handsome in the eyes of Rensali as a red flower
for the ear.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho panka tera ’Nseno.
(Ho for ’Nseno, no longer young, like a withered flower for the ear
that looks best at a distance.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho okap echü Rensali.
(Ho for Rensali who keeps her love for Rishamo so carefully
hidden.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho woro kurri Yanchano.
(Ho for Yanchano as bald as a chicken.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho juzü kurri ’Nrio, penching chenpen ’Nrio.
(Ho for ’Nrio with ugly curled hair like a buffalo’s forehead,
’Nrio as black as pounded oil-seed.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho Kikung loroe Tsensolo.
(Ho for Tsensolo, fair woman of the Kikung clan.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho Kithang tyengro Mangsamo.
(Ho for Mangsamo, buck of the Kithang clan, who stole Tsensolo from
her husband.)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho yantsowotsenle ho woro nungratoksi.
(What did it matter if you paid a fine? The money, not Tsensolo,
had the pain of parting from you.)
Ho senka tehrru nikhioalo, sithesiyu nikhioato?
(You are barren and useless as a wife. Did he take you to make of
you a post for his house or rafters perhaps?)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho ntithana nirhanchoato ho yanaloio?
(Why did he marry you, woman?)
Ho holo iye hele,
Ho holo iye hele.
The recruiting of the Lhotas for the Naga Labour Corps, and their
service in France and return have been celebrated in song at Pangti. A
free translation of the song runs as follows.
O Hutton Sahib, young man of a foreign race,
What is that letter which has come for you from abroad?
O Hutton Sahib, young man of a foreign race,
The letter you got so quickly
Is it to call us to go to the German War?
Look how in every village
The bucks plan each with his friend to go.
Oh, we will go to the German War.
Let not a word of the letter fall fruitless.
We men of the Mountains, we the bucks
Have routed the enemies of the Sahib.
Let us return quickly, us the braves of the Mountains.
Let our women-folk at home hear the news,
Let them hear that we have routed the enemies of the Sahib.
We braves of the Mountains are coming back.
Let our women-folk at home hear the news.
Let them meet us with drinks of “madhu.”
Bid them come and meet us on the road.
Tell our two [221] Sahibs to send word to them.
They have given us money as countless as the grains of ash on the
[hearth
But he who gives thought to it,
Only he will keep his money.
PART VI
LANGUAGE
Sir George Grierson, in his Linguistic Survey of India, places [222]
the Lhota language in the central sub-group of Naga languages, together
with Ao, Tangsa, [223] Thukumi [224] and Yachumi. The Lhotas have no
script of their own, though they have a tradition that they once
possessed skins with writing on them. Being hungry they ate the skins
and have been illiterate savages ever since. [225]
The grammar of the language has been described by Dr. W. G. Witter of
the American Baptist Foreign Mission Society in his Outline Grammar of
the Lhota Naga Language. I propose to confine myself, therefore, to a
brief note founded on that work.
There are two dialects, the Liye and Ndrung, spoken north and south of
the Doyang respectively, which differ but little save in the
pronunciation of certain consonants. For example, Liye tiing (seven)
becomes kiing in Ndrung; similarly otyak (basket) becomes okyak; otyam
(needle) becomes opyam, and so on.
Vowels.
[Alphabet.]
A long as in “father.”
A short as u in “but.”
E long as a in “pay.”
E short as e in “then.”
I long as in “machine.”
I short, a little longer than the i in “sin.”
O long as in “bone.”
O short as in French “dot.”
U long as in oo in “fool.”
U short as in “pull.”
Ü as in “turn.”
Only syllables which are strongly long or short have been so marked.
Diphthongs.
There are no true diphthongs. The separate sounds of vowels which occur
together can just be distinguished, though often very faintly.
Consonants.
B as in English.
C never used alone.
Ch as in “church.”
Chh as ch, but with more aspiration. Sometimes approaching
“ts” in sound.
D as in English.
F as in English.
G never used alone. When it follows n it is pronounced as
the g in “singer,” not as the g in “finger.”
H as in English “hen.” Aspirates the consonant with which
it is combined.
J not used.
K as in English.
Kh as in “funk-hole.”
L usually as in English, but sometimes pronounced almost
like n.
M as in English.
Mm like m, but with the sound held longer.
N as in English. A final n often only gives a nasal sound
to the vowel it follows.
Nn like n, but with the sound held longer.
P as in English.
Ph as in “tap-house,” not as f.
Q not used.
R as in English, but rather more rolled.
Rr as r, but much rolled.
T as in English.
Th as in “hot-house.”
V as in English.
W as in English.
X not used.
Y as in “year.”
Z as in “zebra.”
Grammar.
[Article.] For the indefinite article mătsanga is used both with
persons and things, and nchyua with persons only. The article is,
however, usually omitted unless there is some special emphasis on the
singleness of the person or thing spoken of. The place of the definite
article is taken by demonstrative pronouns.
[Gender.] There is no distinction of gender except in the case of
animate objects. For human beings epue, “male,” and elue, “female,” are
added when the sex is not otherwise indicated; e.g. ngāro, “infant,”
ngaro epue, “little boy,” ngaro elue, “little girl.” In the case of
animals, ōpong, “male,” and ōkhu, “female,” are used; e.g. wōkō, “pig,”
wokopong, “boar,” wokokhu, “sow.”
[Number.] The plural termination is “ang,” affixed to the demonstrative
pronoun chi or shi. “The men have gone”: “Kyonchiang yichaka.” The word
“ōni” is used as a form of dual. “We two,” eni (i.e. e-oni). “My father
and your brother came yesterday”: “Āpo nā nīta oni nchü roa.”
[Case.] The subject of a transitive verb takes the suffix nā, which is
also that of the instrument. In the case of two or more subjects the
suffix is attached to the one nearest the verb. When the subject is
followed by an adjective qualifying it, the suffix is attached to the
adjective.
Etsi-na sōko yūchaka.
The Sahib “madhu” has drunk.
The object immediately precedes the transitive verb governing it and is
not inflected.
E-na soko yuka.
We “madhu” will drink.
The direct object precedes the indirect.
Ōtsi Chongsĕmo pia.
Rice to Chongsemo give.
The noun is not inflected for the genitive. The possessor precedes the
thing possessed.
Yănăsao ’tsi Chongsemo pia.
Yanasao’s rice to Chongsemo give.
Place and time are rendered by postpositions such as i, “to,” “in”; na,
“from,” “with”; lo, “to”; theni, “with,” “from,” and many others.
Shi-na ora-i wo. Ā-ki-lo woa. Eng-iya-thang-na.
He the jungle-to will go. My-house-to go. Sun-coming-time-from
(i.e. “from dawn”).
[Adjectives.] Adjectives follow the nouns they qualify and take the
suffixes instead of the noun.
Ōtūng săpo-lo.
Tree tall-on.
When a noun is used as an adjective it precedes the noun it qualifies.
Ora kyon.
Jungle-man.
To form the comparative an adjective takes the suffix “wo” or sometimes
for euphony “mo.”
Yanasao Asao sapowo.
Yanasao (than) Asao (is) taller.
In interrogative sentences the adjective plus the comparative suffix wo
is repeated first with the interrogative suffix alo, and then with the
interrogative suffix ela.
Yanasao sapow’alo Asao sapow’ela?
Yanasao taller Asao taller?
(i.e. Which is taller, Yanasao or Asao?)
The superlative is formed by adding the suffix “wo” to the adjective as
in the comparative, and putting some word meaning “all” before the noun
representing the things among which comparison is being made.
Lănga ’tung shi sapowo. (i.e. This is the tallest tree).
All trees this taller
[Numerals.] The cardinals are as follows:—
1. Ēkha (only used in counting, otherwise matsanga or
nchyua is used).
2. Ēni.
3. Ēthăm.
4. Mēzü.
5. Mungo.
6. Tĭrok.
7. Tiing.
8. Tīza.
9. Tŏkū.
10. Tāro.
11. Tarosi ekha (lit. “ten-with one”).
12. Tarosi eni.
13. Tarosi etham.
14. Tarosi mezü.
15. Tarosi mungo.
16. Tarosi tirok or mezüna mekwi mpen (lit. “by four
twenty not making”).
17. Tarosi tiing or ethamna mekwi mpen.
18. Tarosi tiza or enina mekwi mpen.
19. Tarosi toku or ekhana mekwi mpen.
20. Mekwi.
21. Mekwisi ekha.
30. Thămdro (i.e. etham taro).
40. Zūro (i.e. mezu taro).
50. Tiingya.
60. Rokro (i.e. tirok taro).
70. Ekha tiing (i.e. “seven times once the sum of
fingers”).
80. Ekha tiza (Liye), Zaro (Ndrung).
90. Ekha toku.
100. Ekha taro.
1000. Thanga.
Fractions:—
½ = poko.
1½ = matsanga-si poko.
⅓ = Echu etham chuche matsanga (i.e. “One part of three parts”).
Counting is done on the fingers, and reckoning is kept by little
bundles of sticks. It is a common sight to see, say, five little bits
of bamboo stuck up in a prominent place in a wayside granary, or five
notches cut in a log. This means that the owner will claim Rs. 5 from
whoever damages the granary or misappropriates the log.
There are no true ordinals.
First = ōvūngōchī (the one in front).
Second = ovungochi sīlāmo (the one behind the one in front).
Third = ovungochi chito oni silamo (the one behind both that one
and the one in front).
Ordinal adverbs are formed by the prefix echo or echung.
Once = echoa or echunga.
Twice = echoni or echungeni, etc.
[Pronouns.] The personal pronouns are as follows:—
First person Singular A, ai, aiyo, akha.
Plural E, eten, eyo.
Second person Singular Nna, nno, ni, yi, i.
Plural Ni, nino, nte, yi.
Third person Singular Mbo, and the demonstrative pronouns hi,
shi, chi.
Plural Oten, and the demonstrative pronouns
hiang, shiang, chiang.
Personal pronouns take the same suffix as nouns.
A mokthata.
I am tired.
A-na pīka.
I will give.
As in nouns, the possessive is formed by placing the possessor before
the thing possessed.
My house = Āki (= A-oki).
The demonstrative pronouns are as follow:—Hi or shi, “this,” chi,
“that,” hiang or shiang, “these,” oten or chiang, “those.” They follow
the noun they qualify and take suffixes as do adjectives.
A-na oki-shi-lo otsi tsōka.
I house-this-in rice will eat.
The interrogative pronouns are as follow:—
Who? = ochi, ocho.
Which? = ocho, kuwe, ko.
What? = ochi or ocho (referring to persons); ntio, nyu,
nyuwo (referring to things).
Nno ntio chonala?
You what are wanting?
A relative clause in English is usually rendered in Lhota by the verb
followed by wochi (lit. “go that”), often pronounced mochi for euphony.
A-na echo-mō-chi a-pia
I wanted-one-the me-give
(i.e. give me the one I wanted).
The interrogative pronouns are, however, sometimes used as relatives.
A-na kuwe chonana chi a-pia.
I what wanted that me-give.
[The Verb.] The verb is not conjugated for person and number. Certain
suffixes are used to express tense. They are as follow:—
-a = perfect or future, the context giving the sense. It is also the
termination of the imperative. Thus, from the verbal root tso = eat—
Ana tsoa = { I will eat.
{ I have eaten.
Tsoa = eat.
-ka is the ordinary termination of the future—
Ana tsoka = I will eat.
-cho is the ordinary termination of the preterite—
Ana tsocho = I ate, I have eaten.
-ala is the ordinary termination used to express continual action, and
is apparently a form of the verb lia, “is”—
Ana tsoala = { I am eating.
{ I was eating.
To express habitual action the verbal root without any termination is
used.
Ana otsi tso = I eat rice.
The verbal root followed by a faint v sound expresses future action.
Ana tsov = I will eat.
Further shades of meaning are expressed by a large number of verbal
modifiers which are added sometimes to the verbal root, and sometimes
to the verbal root plus the termination -a. These modifiers are
followed by the suffixes already mentioned. The commonest are as
follow:—
(1) vān indicates continuance. Alone it means “stay,” “remain,” “live.”
Ana tsoavancho = I continued eating.
Ana ochi vana = I live there.
(2) kam also indicates continuance.
Ana otsi tsoakāma = I am eating rice.
(3) chak implies completion.
Ana atsi tsochaka = I have eaten up my rice.
A reduplicated form of chak is also sometimes used to express the
English pluperfect.
Ana atsi tsochakchaka = I had eaten up my rice.
(4) sāla implies immediate future.
Ana tsosala = I am just about to eat.
(5) tok has a causative, or permissive sense.
Ana shi tsotokala = I am making him eat.
Shi tsotoka = Let him eat.
(6) hng is a verbal root meaning “wish.”
Ana tsohnga = I wish to eat.
(7) pvu is added to the reduplicated verbal root to express frequency.
Shina tsopvu tsopvu vanala = He is always eating.
(8) lan or lam expresses repetition.
Shina rolancho = He came back again.
(9) ten or tem indicates the first doing of an act.
Ana tsotencho = I ate first.
(10) ta indicates that several people are acting together.
Otena tsotala = They are eating together.
(11) khān signifies absolute completeness.
Ana atsi tsokhancho = I have eaten up all my rice.
(12) nhyu indicates incompleteness.
Ana otsi tsonhyua = I have eaten part of the rice.
(13) s = “more.”
Otsi apisa = Give me more rice (pi = “give”).
(14) hrak = “got.”
Ana otsi tsohraka = I got some rice to eat.
(15) kok = ability.
Ana oso tsokoka = I can eat meat.
(16) che or cheyu also = ability.
Ana otsi ntsoche = I cannot eat rice.
[Imperative Mood.] The following examples show the shades of meaning of
the terminations in use.
tsoa = eat.
tsosa = eat more.
tsoalo = go on eating.
[Participial Clauses.] The sense of English participles and participial
clauses is given by postpositions and adverbs added to the verbal stem
or the verbal stem plus a. Examples are as follow:—
(1) -na “from,” “by,” the instrumental postposition.
Ana otsi tsona... = { I, if I eat rice.
{ I, by eating rice.
(2) -i = “at.”
Shina amhungi atapcho = { He at seeing me struck me.
{ He struck me as soon as he saw me.
(3) thang = “at the time of.”
Ana tsoathang shina atapcho = He struck me when I was eating.
(4) -le = “at the time of”—usually added to verbal modifier van.
Ana tsoavanle shina atapcho = He struck me when I was eating.
(5) sanati = “immediately after.”
tsosanati woa = Go as soon as you have eaten.
(6) si or sa = “after.”
tsosi woa = Go when you have eaten.
(7) leha or chakla denote concession.
Ana otsi ntsoleha woka = Though I have not eaten I will go.
[Directional Prefixes.] Certain prefixes are added to verbs of motion
to indicate direction.
(1) chung = “up”; chungwoka = I will go up.
(2) cho = “down”; chowoka = I will go down.
(3) thre or thro = “in”; threyia = come in. throwoa = go in.
(4) chi = “out”; chiyia = go out.
[Conditional Clauses.] A conditional clause is usually expressed
participially by means of the postposition -na added to the verbal
stem. Another method is to add -wo to the verbal root of the protasis
and -katola to the verbal root of the apodosis.
Otsi hello liwo ana tsokatola [226]
= If rice were here I would eat.
[Purpose.] Purpose is usually expressed by adding the postposition -lo,
“to,” to the verbal root. It may also be expressed by the prefix e-,
either with or without the postposition -lo, or by the suffix kiatto.
Ana tsolo rōcho. }
Ana etsolo rocho. } I came to eat.
Ana etso rocho. }
Ana tsokiatto rocho. }
[Negative.] With the imperative the prohibitive prefix tī- is used.
Titsoa = Do not eat.
In the other tenses n (or sometimes for euphony m) is prefixed to the
verb.
Ana ntso = I do not eat.
[Interrogatives.] The following suffixes are added to the verbal root
plus the termination -a.
(1) -ke.
Nno tsoake = Do you eat?
(2) -nūng.
Nno tsoanung = Do you eat?
(3) -la, with a reduplicated verbal root.
Nna tsotsoala = Do you eat?
(4) -ela, with a reduplicated verbal root. This form is only used when
speaking of past time. The termination -a of the verbal root is elided
and disappears.
Nno tsotsoela = Did you eat?
(5) For double questions -lo is suffixed to the affirmative verb and
-la (or -ela) to the negative verb.
Nno tsoalo ntsoala = Do you eat or not?
(6) -ne is used in asking permission.
Ana tsoane = May I eat?
[Voice.] There is no passive form of the verb.
I have eaten up my rice = ana atsi tsochaka.
My rice has been eaten up = atsi tsochaka.
The latter appears to be really a case in which the subject is
understood.
[Verbal Synonyms.] As in other Naga languages, different verbs are used
for variations of the same act. Dr. Witter gives the following list as
an example.
Ephyopala = to wash in general.
Etsiala = ,, ,, clothes.
Süala = ,, ,, dishes.
Myuala = ,, ,, face.
Phiala = ,, ,, feet.
Ntsakala = ,, ,, hands.
[Adverbs.] The following are typical examples. Many are composite words
formed from a noun or pronoun and a postposition.
Always = echung. Perhaps = kanyu.
Formerly = nkolo. Probably = kache.
By day = engilo. In this way = heto.
Last night = nsamo. In that way = chito.
To-night = osamo. On the right = amymwe.
To-day = nching. On the left = aiyiwe.
To-morrow = ochü. Ahead = ovungwe.
Yesterday = nchü. Behind = silamwe.
Now = nthanga. There = ochi.
Suddenly = ekhiapa. Here = hello.
[Postpositions.] Several have been noted in connection with the verb.
Examples of others are as follow:—
Among = onungo. Towards = we.
Below = okapi. With = pana.
Between = yite. Near = nthango.
From, with = theni. In front of = mhatungi.
Syntax.
In a simple sentence the subject comes first and the verb last, with
the object between them.
Ana otsi tsoka.
I rice will eat.
Adverbs usually come first.
Ochü ana otsi tsoka.
To-morrow I rice will eat.
Interrogative adverbs, however, often follow the subject.
Chongsemo kothang rov?
Chongsemo when will come?
Possessive nouns and pronouns precede the thing possessed, but
adjectives follow the noun they qualify.
Ana Chongsemo ’tsi mhōna tsoka.
I Chongsemo’s rice good will eat.
In compound sentences the principal clause stands last.
Ochi nyanya vāna ana ntsiala.
There a goat is I know.
In reporting the words of a third person the actual words spoken are
placed with the particle to immediately in front of the principal verb.
Thus “Chongsemo said he would go” would be in Lhota—
Chongsemona ana wov to ezocho.
Chongsemo I will go thus said.
If the actual words of the speaker are not used the indirect discourse
is placed after the principal clause and its verb takes the affix
-lato.
Chongsemona ezocho omona wolato.
Chongsemo said he would go.
[Specimens.] The following specimens of the language with
literal translations will serve to illustrate the grammar and syntax.
I.—The Story of the Cuckoo and the Crow.
Păngpăng-to nā kāshāk-to ōni ōkămo tscōtācho. Ole
cuckoo and crow they-two friends became. Then
pangpang-chi-na kashak-chi ēzōchō “Ā-kăm, nnā-hā ōnyu-shi-ki
cuckoo-that (to) crow-that said “my-friend, you-too gum-this-with
mhōna ā-rānīke ana-ha onyu-shi-ki mhona i-ranika.” to
well me-ornamenting I-too gum-this-with well you-will ornament.”
thus
ezoa mhona eranitokcho. Chi-silōcho kashak-chi-na
having said well made him ornament. That-after crow-that
pangpang-chi ezocho “A-kam, nna-ha mhona a-ranike ana-ha
(to) cuckoo-that said my-friend, you-too well me-ornamenting I-too
mhona i-ranichoka.” to ezoa onyu-chi picho. Ole
well you-will ornament.” thus having said gum-that gave. Then
pangpang-chi-na “A-kam, a-pfu-na a-tsāla, a-pfu-na
cuckoo-that “my-friend my-mother me-is calling, my-mother
a-tsala,” to ezoa onyu-chi-na kashak-chi kŭrri-lo
me-is calling,” thus having said gum-that-with cuckoo-that head-on
tyankaisi tsancho. Chī-tsōkō-nā nhūnga-cha kashak-cho
having poured out ran away. That-reason-from now-till crow-the
nyĭkā-lā. Hochi-na pangpang-cho kashak khȳua engo n-sāmphina
black-is. That-from cuckoo-the crow fearing (by) day not-wandering
zāmo-thăng-tai “pangpang pangpang.” to khua samphiala.
darkness-time-only “cuckoo cuckoo.” thus crying wanders.
Translated into ordinary English the story runs as follows:—
The cuckoo and the crow became sworn friends. One day the cuckoo said
to the crow, “My friend, you ornament me prettily with this gum and I
will do the same to you,” and got the crow to do as he was asked. The
crow then made the same request to the cuckoo and gave him the gum. But
the cuckoo cried, “My mother is calling me, my mother is calling me,”
and poured the gum all over the crow’s head and ran away. That is why
the crow is black and the cuckoo is so frightened of the crow that he
only wanders about at night, calling, “Cuckoo, cuckoo.” [227]
II.—How Children were turned into Monkeys.
Onpoi-na otsoi epue ’ts ekha elue ’ts ekha to pōki
man and wife children male child one female child one too having got
vāsi elue-chi tchhīcho. Tole epue-chi-na elue-chi tchhicho silo
having been wife-the died. Then husband-the wife-the died after
elue ethăn soa vāncho. Ole elue ethan-chi-na elue etchhio-chi
wife new took remained. Then wife new-the wife dead-the
’tsoi t’-oni-chi n-nzām elăm kangshi ntsonshicho. Osi nchōkāchō
children two-the not-pitying much trouble gave. But one day
mbo-na nūngri-t’-oni “li-nhyako wota, otsi-cho a-na
she (to the) children-two “field-to watch go food I
eng-aku ni-’ni hāntokmūngka; oki ti-yitake.” to
day-every (for) you two will have taken down; home do not come.” Thus
ezoa wotokcho. Chi-silo mbo-na otsi kīlāto zīro-chü
having said made to go. That-after she food calling-it rat-dung
hōno-chü māku-to tai nkapnkapi
chicken-dung husks-too only having tied up in leaves
nungri-t-’oni hantokmungcho. Tole nungri-t-’oni-na eng-aku
(to) the children-two had carried down. Then children-two day-every
mbo-na otsi kilato ziro-chü hono-chü na maku-to
she food calling it rat-dung chicken-dung and husks-too
nkapnkapi hantokmung-chi lānphelānphei
having tied up in leaves having had taken down-that which having opened
zesi sicho. Chi-silo-cho nungri-t-’oni-na kyon etsoyu
saw. That-after children-the two man’s food and drink
n-chămcheo ora-i tsangti-longpen-tai
not-remembering jungle-in nuts berries-only
hlotso-hloyuta vancho. Ole nchokacho opo-na
picking eating-picking drinking stayed. Then one day (their) father
otsi hānsi wo “oyi, otsi tsota.” to ezoa tsale
food carrying going “come, food eat.” Thus having said calling
nungri-t-’oni-na “A-po, eyo nhungo kyon etsoyu
children-the two “my-father, we now man’s food and drink
n-chamche kama yākso kamayiala.” to ezoa
“wu-wu”
not-remembering having become monkeys are becoming.” Thus saying
“wu-wu”
to khuta yakso kamayicho. Chi-silo-cho opo-na “Toka
ni-ni-na
thus calling monkeys became. That-after (the) father “Then you-two
yakso kama yi-na oyan mung-thang-mungri eli chepya
monkeys having become being-from village emung-time-keeping is seeing
’yam-li penchü-muchü shotso shoiya yitake,” to
village-fields seeds-roots scratching up digging up will go,” thus
ezoa yitokcho. Hochi-na nhunga-liya yakso-na oyan
having spoken let (them) go. This-from now-till monkeys village
mung-thang-mungri eli chepya ’yam-li penchü-muchü shotso
emung-time-keeping is seeing village-fields seeds-roots scratching up
shoiyala to rutala.
digging up are thus (men) say.
The interpretation of the tale is as follows:—
A man and his wife had one son and one daughter. The wife died and the
man married again. But the new wife did not love her step-children and
ill-used them. One day she said to them, “Go down and watch the fields.
I will send food down for you every day. Do not come back to the
house.” But instead of food she only sent down rat-dung and
chicken-dung and rice husks tied up in leaves. When the children opened
the leaves they saw that their step-mother had sent them down filth
instead of food. Then they forgot what human food was like and took to
picking and eating berries in the jungle. One day their father brought
down some food and called them to come and eat it, but they said, “We
have forgotten what human food is like, father. We are turning into
monkeys.” With these words they called out “wu-wu” and turned into
monkeys. Then their father said, “You have turned into monkeys, and now
you will watch for the days when the villagers are keeping emung and
cannot go to the fields, and will scratch up the roots and seeds they
have sown.” That is why to this day monkeys scratch up the roots and
seeds in the fields when they see that the village is keeping emung.
Abuse and Nicknames.
The figurative expressions used by Lhotas in jest or for purposes of
abuse are so apt and to the point that they deserve brief notice. A
dwarfish person is called either hampochütang (fowl’s-dung) or
zitsenaro (mouse). A woman of loose morals is called nyanyavu
(she-goat) or ntsingo (a small fish with the reputation of taking any
bait thrown to it). The expression wokomhi (pig’s tail) is applied to a
fussy man who is always running backwards and forwards. Nangkinangka
(chrysalis) denotes a sulky man. Shamakok (wasp) is a man with a very
small waist. Potak (duck) is a man who waggles his posterior as he
walks. In a quarrel a man will sometimes address his opponent as
sakaptso (“born under the verandah of the house,” i.e. bastard), and
will be called songkoptso (“born under the granary”) in return. A man
with no teeth is nicknamed okingkham (open door), and so on.
Baby Language.
An English mother who says to her baby, “Didums wantum’s bottleums
denums?” uses language sufficiently like that in ordinary use to be
intelligible to a mere bachelor, but the Lhotas have a curious custom,
when addressing small children, of using words which are in no way
connected with the speech of every-day life. For instance, “boiled
rice” is called mama, “madhu” is koko, “rain” is tsetse, “eat” is
hamto, “go to sleep” is shoboto, “get up” is hoksi, “sit down” is
phato, “go along” is tsatsato, “I will smack you” is khakto, and so on.
The origin of this baby dialect is unknown, but it is noticeable that
the Aos use almost identical words in addressing their children.
PART VII
APPENDICES
APPENDIX A
THE LHOTA CALENDAR
The Lhota divides the year into twelve lunar months, [228] which are
named as follows:—
Ndri (February). “The month of the ndri flower.”
Emhu (March). “The blowing month.”
Ephi (April). “The dry month.”
Cheshi (May). “The watching month,” i.e. all watch to see if the
crops will sprout well.
Oten (June). “The month of millet” (teni).
Nnung (July). Derivation unknown.
Chikanika (August). “The month of quarrels,” because poor men have
come to the end of their resources and try to borrow from rich men,
who refuse to lend.
Ndrangtso (September). “The bursting month,” because the pots are
bursting with new rice.
Rongorongyi (October). “The going backwards and forwards month,”
i.e. carrying the crop up to the village.
Chopuk (November). “The month of ease.”
Shotokuk (December). “The month of ceremonies.”
Echon (January). “The spreading month,” i.e. the rats scatter the
straw about the abandoned fields.
In order to correct the calendar an extra month or part of a month
called Chotantsu is put in after Echon whenever necessary. The months
being periods of the agricultural year the whole Lhota country is not
in the same month at the same time. The inhabitants of a cold village
where the crops are late may be struggling through Chikanika while
those of a warm village are enjoying the peace and plenty of Ndrangtso.
APPENDIX B
MENSURATION
There is no standard of weight in use throughout the tribe, but in
every village there is kept a stone (ephwa) which is used in
apportioning the shares of meat at feasts. The weight is generally nine
to ten pounds. For trade a balance of the bismar type is used, notched
to weigh in Indian seers and fractions of seers.
The standard measure for rice is chukoluk, which is regarded as one
man’s wage for a day and usually weighs about six pounds. The table
would be as follows:—
2 chukolukruso = 1 chukoluk.
3 chukoluk = 1 sitsi.
1½ sitsi = 1 enokyak.
Two baskets (etek) are regarded as going to one enokyak. The size of
the baskets varies from village to village, and the buyer must accept
the standard of the village from which he buys.
Though nowadays Lhotas occasionally try to state distance in English
miles, the real measure is by echen, the distance between one temporary
granary and that at the next stage on the path up from the fields. It
varies from village to village. On an easy slope it may be a mile and a
half, on a steep slope it will be a mile or even less.
The depth of water is either measured in echam (the height of a man) or
eshi (kicks). That is to say, if a man having dived to the bottom of a
pool has to kick his legs three times before he reaches the top, the
pool is reckoned as three “kicks” deep. A tree is spoken of as so many
phunchap (ladder-steps) high.
Just as fingers and toes are the usual counting apparatus, so the Lhota
uses the distance between the various parts of his body as standards of
measurement. The distance between the tips of the fingers of the
outstretched arms is called ntiya, and that from the middle of the
chest to outstretched finger-tips monyak. A cubit is kecha. The spans
of the thumb and first finger and thumb and middle finger are ekohundro
and ekosüpo respectively. The breadth of a finger is yingro. These
measurements are used for all conceivable purposes. The size of a
mithan, for instance, is not stated in terms of its height at the
withers, but in terms of the length of its horn in ekosüpo and yingro.
Similarly, to measure a pig you pass a long slip of bamboo round its
chest and measure the bamboo. Thread is never measured by length or
weight. If it is in a skein, the thickness round the skein is taken,
the circles formed by thumb and first finger and thumb and middle
finger being called etsokhundro and etsoksüpo respectively. If it is in
a ball, the ball is reckoned as a keraksüpo (big handful) or keraktero
(little handful).
APPENDIX C
HUMAN SACRIFICE
Major Butler gives the following account [229] of a human sacrifice:
“About the 27th July, 1850, Lieutenant Vincent succeeded in effecting,
for thirty-seven rupees, the ransom of Tooleram, a Cacharee boy, who
had been carried off from the village of Loongee-jair on the 18th
February by a marauding party of Angahmee Nagahs. Two other children
were at the same time carried off, but had been sold to other villages;
a little girl was sold to some Nagahs at Beereh-mah, but could not be
traced. The fate of the third boy was horrible; he was purchased by the
adjoining tribe of Lotah Nagahs, and a man of the village having died
immediately after the purchase, it was considered a bad omen, and that
ill luck had befallen them on account of this captive child. They
therefore flayed the poor boy alive, cutting off his flesh bit by bit
until he died. These cruel and superstitious savages then divided the
body, giving a piece of the flesh to each man in the village to put
into his dolu, a large corn-basket. By this they suppose all evil will
be averted, their good fortune will return, and plentiful crops of
grain will be ensured.”
Nagas are always ready to give garbled, not to say scandalous, accounts
of the customs of their neighbours, and there can be little doubt that
Major Butler was misled by his Angami informants. Lhotas, in common
with other tribes, believe in a vague sort of way that the taking of a
head brings prosperity to the taker’s village, and the boy was probably
killed and his body cut up and distributed, as was done more recently
in the case of the Nankam slave bought by Akuk. But there is no
tradition that it was ever the custom to torture victims before death,
and I think the Lhotas must be acquitted of this charge. It would,
further, be clean contrary to their customs to put pieces of human
flesh in their rice, which would thereby become polluted rather than
blessed. [230]
The story goes that long, long ago a rich Lhota was very ill. In vain
pigs, cattle and mithan were slaughtered. Finally he had one of his
slaves sacrificed in cold blood, in the hope that the slave’s life
would be accepted in place of his own. The man died, however, in spite
of this last sacrifice, and Lhotas, seeing that it was unavailing, have
never imitated his example. This tradition and the practice of spearing
the opya at the oyantsoa “genna” point to a time when human sacrifice
was practised to avert evil fortune, but it would be safe to say that
within historical times no such custom has been followed by them.
NAGA-ASSAMESE GLOSSARY
As far as possible Naga-Assamese words have been avoided. For the
following, however, no convenient English equivalents exist.
apodia. From the Assamese āpăd (“misfortune”). Certain forms of death
by misadventure are spoken of as “apotia” deaths (see p. 160).
chunga. A section of bamboo with a node left intact at one end. Used as
a drinking vessel or for carrying water.
dal. Lentils.
dao. A heavy bill used by Nagas both as a weapon and for agriculture.
deo-bih. Literally “spirit-poison.” The juice of a certain root
formerly used by Nagas for poisoning fish. The practice is now
prohibited.
genna. A very common Naga-Assamese word and one used in various senses.
(1) A Naga ceremony; (2) = “forbidden” (e.g. “It is genna to take the
head of a man of your own village”); (3) = “tabued,” as Angami kenna,
of which the word is a corruption (e.g. “my house is genna to-day”).
jhum. Naga cultivation (see description on p. 45). Also used = a field
which has been cultivated in this way.
khel. A division of a village (see description on p. 24).
lengta. The small apron worn by the men of most Naga tribes.
machan. A bamboo platform.
madhu. Rice beer.
mithan. Bos frontalis (domestic) and bos gaurus (wild).
morung. The “bachelors’ hall” in which the boys and unmarried men of a
khel sleep.
pan. A leaf which is chewed with betel nut and lime.
panji. A bamboo spike stuck in the ground to impale enemies or game.
NOTES
[1] See The Angami Nagas, Pt. V., “The Story of Hunchibili.”
[2] See Gurdon, The Khasis, p. 168, “The Story of U Loh Ryndi.” The
version of this story with which I met in the Khasi Hills in 1911
substituted an orange for the fish. Another Khasi story derives the
origin of the Jyrwa Nongsiet clan from a girl who came out of a bamboo
shoot, but I cannot find it mentioned by Col. Gurdon, and it may be a
Lynngam or Synteng clan.
[3] So, too, in the Khasi Hills the Khasis live in permanent villages,
while Bhois and Lynngams are more or less migratory (Gurdon, op. cit.,
p. 34).
[4] In prescribing rewards for the learning of languages the Local
Government has assumed a similarity of language between the tribes
classed as “Naga” by giving a reduced reward for passing a test in a
second Naga language after one has already been learnt, but in point of
fact the linguistic test breaks down as badly as the migration test,
for Sir George Grierson, in classifying the languages of the area,
groups some Nagas with Kacharis, Mikirs and others in the Naga-Bodo
group, some with Thado and other Kuki languages in the Naga-Kuki group,
and others in different groups, and it would really be far more logical
to base the examinations on these groups than on the false supposition
based on the present use of the term “Naga,” which is really as
inaccurate as the reputed divisions of the Hill tribes of Burma into
“Tame Chins, Wild Chins and Ka-chins.”
[5] Nāga is a corruption of the Assamese Năga (pronounced “Nŏga”),
probably meaning “a mountaineer” from Sanskrit Năg, a “mountain” or
“inaccessible place.”
[6] Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, I. i. ch. vii. (N.B.,
pp. 331 and 387).
[7] Mr. T. P. M. O’Callaghan tells me that the Linghi sept of Mishmis
came from the south; so, too, the Sotia clan of the Miri tribe is
reported by Mr. R. C. R. Cumming as claiming a southern origin, though
in both cases the rest of the tribe came from the north. The Apar
Tanengs are also believed to have come from the south, and they, unlike
their neighbours, practise the cultivation of irrigated rice with a
certain amount of terracing.
[8] Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, I. i. p. 191 and ch.
vi. passim.
[9] The origin of the Kuki-Lushai-Chin family is a matter of some doubt
(see Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, I. i. p. 451 sq.),
but apparently they came originally from the north and are probably
related to the Burmese and to the Singpho-Kachin group.
[10] Probably Bodo.
[11] Census of India, 1911. Part I. ch. ix. The Bodo race seems to have
been widely intermingled with the Munda and Mon-Khmêr families, and
though the latter is spoken of as an Austric race, it seems clear
enough that the Bodos came into Assam from the north, and it may
perhaps be questioned whether the Munda Mon-Khmêr races are not equally
Turanian in origin, an origin which has also been claimed for the
Polynesians and Melanesians in the Pacific. Vide Dr. George Brown,
Melanesians and Polynesians, pp. 16, 17, 369, 370 (Macmillan, 1910).
[12] There are in Yacham and also in some Konyak villages to the east
apparently definite traditions of an immigration from a place called
Maibang of a clan which still preserves as heirlooms certain peculiar
types of spiked armlets of bronze. “Maibang” is a Kachari place name =
“Much paddy.” Besides the Kachari capital of that name in the North
Cachar Hills, there is said to have been a Maibang village on the outer
Lhota range.
[13] But even the Semas themselves contain traces of a mixed origin;
there are clans in Vekohomi who admittedly came from the country to the
south-east across the Tizu. These it is true claim that they were an
offshoot originally of the genuine Sema, but there is little, not even
probability, to support their claim. All the northern and eastern Semas
contain large and demonstrable admixtures of Ao and Sangtam blood, and
it is likely that the original blood of the Sema invaders is
excessively diluted and that not even all the chiefly families are of
true Sema descent.
[14] In Assamese the Lhotas speak of them as “spirits,” deo, but in
their own language as “jungle-men,” orakyon.
[15] So has the Kacha Naga, and the Phom to some extent.
[16] See Ratzel, History of Mankind, Vol. I. Book II., Map of the Races
of Oceania.
[17] The black of a Naga’s or Kuki’s hair is normally a dull brownish-
or reddish-black rather than the blue-black of some races. Children
with reddish, or even yellowish, hair are particularly common in Phom
villages.
[18] In the Konyak villages of Shiong and Tang there appears to be a
whole clan whose hair is of this type. The member of the clan whom I
saw had very curly hair which stuck out fuzzily in all directions.
[19] The Maru. Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, I. i. p.
386. The Lolos also burn their dead (ibid. p. 615) and put their ashes
in clefts in the rock. In the Assam hills north of the Brahmaputra the
Taroan and Miju Mishmis first bury, then exhume and burn their dead.
The Khasi and Garo tribes also burn.
[20] In Yacham, a composite Ao-Phom village, each family has its own
place of exposure where the bodies of its dead are exposed on a
platform under thatch in the Ao manner, but smoked out of doors in
situ, after which the heads are ultimately wrenched off and the bodies
in their wrappings added to the heap in the clan burial tree.
[21] It possibly dates only from the comparatively recent absorption by
the Chang tribe of certain Ao villages east of the Dikhu. Colonel A. E.
Woods, touring among the Changs in 1900, states definitely that they
bury their dead.
[22] Mr. Mills tells me that all these obsolete Lhota yanthang seem to
be connected with the partial migration from the north as opposed to
the general immigration from the south.
[23] The story of people created with their noses upside-down so that
they could not go out in the rain, because it ran off their foreheads
down their nostrils, is not the sort of story that one would expect to
occur spontaneously to different peoples in different parts of the
world. It is reported from the Bila-an in the Philippines (Frazer,
Folk-lore in the Old Testament, Vol. I. p. 16) and is found in the Naga
Hills among both Changs and Semas. The Angamis have the story in which
the Semas and Changs introduce the incident, but do not, apparently,
relate this particular tradition.
[24] Stone hoes (or axes), both roughly shouldered and with very
carefully squared shoulders, are to be found in various parts of the
Naga Hills, and are regarded as thunderbolts.
[25] The Lhotas are to some extent an exception. They know and use the
cross-bow, though their Ao, Rengma, Angami and even Sema neighbours do
not. North of the Brahmaputra both the long-bow and cross-bow are in
use, and one tribe uses the former for shooting fish, special long
arrows being used for that purpose.
[26] The Wa of Burma make drums of this sort (U. B. and S. S.
Gazetteer, I. i. p. 502).
[27] Upper Burma and Shan States Gazetteer, I. i. p. 535.
[28] Playfair, The Garos, p. 34. So too the Lynngam and Bhois (Gurdon,
The Khasis, p. 40).
[29] The Konyaks also have the custom of blackening their teeth like
the Brè Karens of Burma (U. B. and S. S. Gazetteer, I. i. p. 534).
[30] Phoms and some Konyaks put up a single erect stone with flat
stones round it as a place for the exposure of enemy heads in front of
the clan “morung.”
[31] The reason given is that this kindred has never been allowed to
carry the village oha (sacred stones) at the time of migration, or
indeed to touch them at any time.
The Khawlthang sept of the Haokip clan of Thado Kukis also uses
Y-shaped posts (vide Col. Shakespear’s Lushei-Kuki Clans, p. 65).
The Angami uses them only in the case of the Lisü “genna” performed in
Kohima villages only. At this “genna” the spirit of fertility is caused
to perambulate the village, symbolized by a Y-shaped and by a phallic
post, the former pulled by chaste boys, the latter carried by a man,
and representing respectively the female and male organs of generation.
It has been already pointed out that the Puchatsuma clan in Kohima has
a western origin.
[32] In some cases the Ang has really no political influence at all,
and seems to be kept as a sort of “fetish” rather than anything else.
Thus Kamahu in 1920, having never had an Ang, obtained one from
Wanching, “because it was good to have one.”
[33] They also have different words for “father,” aphu and apyu, like
the Tengima Angamis apo and apvu. The present census shows a practical
equality of those Rengmas using apfsü for “mother” with the total of
the Tseminyu using avyo and the Inseni-Kotsenu using azao.
[34] The word is distinct in meaning from Teprima, a foreigner from the
plains, including Assamese, Bengalis, Europeans, etc. The proportion,
as worked out, during the 1921 census, of Kepezoma to Kepepfüma in the
Angami tribe shows a nearly three to one majority of the former among
the Tengima and Dzunokehena groups, and a nearly two to one majority in
the Chakrima group of the “Thevoma” over “Solhima.” This excludes the
Kezami and Mĕmi sub-tribes, of which the former seems to be wholly
Pezoma and the latter wholly Pepfüma, at any rate as far as the terms
used are concerned, though the division may exist in fact but have
disappeared from the terms of address as in the case of the Chakrima.
The bulk of the Memi group are in the Manipur state and were therefore
outside the scope of the inquiry. The total figures actually returned
from those groups in which the inquiry was made were—
Kepezoma. Kepepfüma.
Tengima 13,516 4,748
Chakrima 11,051 5,771
Kezami 4,670 —
Memi — 1,099
====== ======
Total for those Angamis in the Naga Hills
District 29,237 11,618
The census for the Ao tribe showed the Chongli Aos 16,276 souls against
5,809 Mongsen Aos.
[35] The Sema clan of Chishilimi was perhaps originally organized on a
dual basis, the clan being descended from two brothers, Chesha and
Chishi, and the descendants of one brother being regarded as superior.
Here again there was a dispute as to which was the superior division,
the descendants of Chishi eventually establishing their claim by
chicanery, though Chesha was the elder brother.
[36] Mr. Mills has pointed out to me that the Ung clan among the Changs
is priestly, and that there must be one of this clan in every Chang
village. As the Ung clan is usually spoken of with contempt it
doubtless represents a conquered population acquainted with the gods of
the soil, at any rate in the Chang country. Chang Ung probably = Konyak
Ang in any case, and the Changs seem to be largely invaders in Phom, Ao
or Konyak territory.
[37] So, too, the Garo dead point to the peak Chikmang (Playfair, The
Garos, p. 103). North of the river Brahmaputra the hill tribes are said
to have no beliefs as to transmigration into insects.
[38] Mr. Mills has pointed out to me that the Lhota word for a familiar
spirit is Sonyo, and the familiar usually takes a leopard form, while
the Ao word Chonyu means “leopard” pure and simple. The Chang word
Saonyu = “tiger.”
The Thado Kukis, while not practising lycanthropy, believe very
strongly in vampires and are extremely afraid of offending persons with
the reputation of being such. The vampire sends his soul to suck the
vitality of other men’s souls during sleep. The Meitheis also believe
in vampires, but I have not met the belief in any Naga tribe.
[39] The Semas have a story of a stone at Champimi which fought with
Tukahu (Japvo) mountain. The Aos have several stones that fight or
fought, and the Lhota stories are given by Mr. Mills. It may be noticed
that the Aos, like the Khasis, have the practice of divining by
breaking eggs and observing the fall of the fragments of shell.
[40] McCulloch, quoted by Hodson (The Meitheis, pp. 68, 73), records a
Manipuri tradition of the composition of the Manipuri people from
different clans that came from the south, the east and the north-west.
Mr. Hodson also suggests that the existing population was already
located as at present in A.D. 1431 (op. cit. p. 74 note).
[41] But north of the Brahmaputra again burial is the rule.
[42] These Y-shaped posts are also used by the Wa of Burma to
commemorate the slaughter of buffaloes (Gazetteer of Upper Burma and
the Shan States, I. i. p. 505), whose village defences (ibid. p. 504)
must closely resemble those of the Angamis and Kacha Nagas.
[43] It might, of course, be possible to contend that this fusion took
place as a result of two consecutive occupations of the Naga Hills
themselves, but in my opinion all the evidence points to the fusion
having taken place at any rate before the Angamis occupied their
present sites. The barbarian element may have been Tai in origin.
[44] I am indebted to Mr. J. P. Mills for this explanation of the names
of the Lhota phratries, which reached me long after I had formed the
conclusions which they appear in some degree to strengthen.
[45] The meaning of the Lhota word is, I am told, very doubtful. If
correctly interpreted it might perhaps refer to some habit of
hairdressing. The Angami, in contradistinction to tribes to the north,
brushes his hair up off his forehead; so does the Tangkhul.
[46] I take azo and ayo, Angami and Lhota respectively for “my mother,”
to be the same word.
[47] Gait’s History of Assam, p. 162.
[48] The Lhota villagers on the outer range relate that the Burmese
visited them in a horde which moved on from village to village, looting
everything they could find and eating all the food supplies and
defiling the houses in a very Prussian way before leaving, the Lhota
inhabitants having fled to the jungle on the approach of the Burmese.
One Lhota, who related this to me, said that the Burmese (mān) must, in
his opinion, have been some sort of spirit or godling, but another
contradicted him, saying that he knew well that the mān were men like
themselves.—J. H. H.
[49] Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, No. 110, 1841, p. 162.
[50] Selection of Papers regarding Hill Tracts between Assam and Burmah
and on the Upper Brahmaputra. Bengal Secretariat Press, 1873, pp. 295
sqq.
[51] Lhotas living left of the Doyang are known as Ndrung, and those on
the right bank as Liye. The division of the tribe into two sections by
a river which is unfordable for a great part of the year has led to
slight diversity of dialect and custom.
[52] The following is the Lhota version of how the miraculous
properties of the Kezakenoma stone were destroyed: In order to put an
end to the quarrels of the brothers as to whose turn it was to dry, and
double, his paddy, an old woman, who had no husband, and an old man who
had no wife, were selected and these two had connection lying on the
stone. This destroyed its miraculous properties. Possibly the idea was
that the sexual act between these old people was bound to be sterile
and that this sterility should be communicated to the highly prolific
stone. The Rengmas have this story as well as the Lhotas. In The Angami
Nagas (pp. 19 and 362) I have recorded other accounts, both Rengma and
Angami, of the manner in which the stone was rendered unfruitful, and
suggested that the methods aimed rather at offending or hurting the
spirit in the stone, an explanation perhaps equally applicable to the
Lhota version.—J. H. H.
[53] The languages of the Lhotas and Southern Sangtams are very closely
akin.
[54] A village was not always founded by one man. It was quite common
for two men of different clans to join at founding a new village, each
bringing his quota of families. Each clan would supply wives for the
other, and the inconveniences of marriage outside the village were thus
avoided.
[55] The fire-stick of the Lhotas is precisely similar to that of the
Semas and other Naga tribes. A small piece of dry wood is split and a
little stone put in as a wedge. The fork so formed is laid over some
cotton wool or whatever is used as tinder, the operator holding it in
place with his foot. A strip of dry bamboo is put under the fork, which
is notched to keep it in place, and pulled backwards and forwards till
the friction causes the tinder to smoulder.
[56] See pp. 122 sqq.
[57] Wavy hair is common among the Aos and Konyaks, and curly hair far
from rare.
[58] In villages near the Rengma border individuals are often to be
seen who have adopted the Rengma custom and shaved their heads so high
up all round that practically nothing but a small cap of hair is left.
[59] Vide p. 108.
[60] For description of social “gennas” see Part IV.
[61] As is the case among the Semas, a boy may if he likes wear any
cloth to which his father is entitled while he lives with him. When he
marries, however, and sets up house on his own, he may only wear those
cloths to which he is entitled in his own right.
[62] What appears to be the original form of this ornament is still
worn in some Eastern Chang villages. It consists of a long string of
white wild Job’s tear seeds, which is made for and given to a man by a
girl with whom he is carrying on a flirtation. Further to the west the
seeds are sewn in rows on to a cloth wristlet, and among the Aos
cowries take the place of the seeds.
[63] See p. 91.
[64] The Changs say they gave up the use of these daos three
generations ago. The Aos probably did so about the same time, but they
still keep a few as heirlooms, and the leader of the dance at a big
feast holds one in his hand.
[65] Some villages seem to regard this particular dao only as yanthang
and either do not know, or refuse to admit, the existence of a whole
class of daos called by that name.—J. H. H.
[66] I was told in Yimbang that though the red embroidered lechapsü was
worn originally for taking part in a raid, it may now be worn by
“anyone who has ever carried a load for Government,” i.e. by all
able-bodied Lhotas.—J. H. H.
[67] Col. L. W. Shakespear, History of Upper Assam, Upper Burma and
North-Eastern Frontier, p. 202.
[68] It may be noticed that while the Lhota word for “morung,” champo,
seems allied to the vocabulary of the north-east (e.g. in Chang chăm =
house, and some Konyaks use the same word), the word for “house,” oki,
is that of the western Naga vocabulary (Sema aki, Angami ki).
The Bachelors’ House is an institution common to most of the tribes in
Assam, and is also found among the Oraons of Chota Nagpur, a Kolarian
(or Mon-Khmêr) tribe. Cf. S. C. Roy, The Oraons of Nagpur (Ranchi,
1915), p. 211.—J. H. H.
[69] Konyaks, after rebuilding a “morung,” immediately go into the
jungle and try to kill a monkey, the hand of which is tied to the main
post. Failing a monkey, anything, even a little bird, will do, but
something must be killed, and the hunting party returns home singing as
if they had taken a head.
[70] The word emung, which corresponds exactly to the Ao term amung,
means literally “gathered together.” On an emung day no one may go down
to the fields to work, or go farther from the village than is necessary
to get water and firewood.
[71] In some villages the head and trunk of the dog are tied up on the
main post (humtse tachungo) of the “morung” and left there to rot.
[72] Lt.-Col. R. G. Woodthorpe’s sketch on Pl. XVIII., Vol. xi., of the
Journal of the Anthropological Institute, 1888, shows what the
mingetung of Phiro looked like in the old days.
[73] The spot where this was done is called Rāmākātī or mān yōnchopfĕ́
the latter meaning the “Burmese iron-foundry.” It is a small outcrop of
very shaly coal. Possibly the ancestor of the Thangwe Eni clan caught
in the jungle by the Eni who adopted him was a Burman, like the
ancestor of the Tephri-Methama sept of the Methama clan in the Angami
village of Chichama.—J. H. H.
[74] It is with the same idea, perhaps, that an Angami selling an
ancestral field retains as his own a sod or two which remain nominally
his.—J. H. H.
[75] The process described below is that employed in the case of
ordinary land. On the very poor soil the jungle is often cut in July
and burnt at the beginning of December. The soil then gets a longer
exposure to the air.
[76] The Kayans of Borneo, who have several cultural affinities with
Nagas, follow the same practice. They give as their reason the
necessity of providing abiding places for the spirits (toh) of the
locality. (Hose and McDougall, The Pagan Tribes of Borneo, II. 23,
quoted Sir J. G. Frazer, Folk-lore in the Old Testament, III. 70.) The
value of the practice is obvious, as it gives the trees a chance of
seeding and so of restocking the cleared ground and making it fit for
jhuming again.—J. H. H.
[77] Cf. pp. 151 sqq.
[78] See Man, July 1917, “Some Types of Native Hoes, Naga Hills,” by H.
Balfour, M.A.—J. H. H.
[79] Corresponds to the Angami Chadangi, which is performed about the
same time of year.—J. H. H.
[80] Most Naga tribes erect some white sign by a path when clearing it.
Aos, for instance, set up rows of saplings cut obliquely at the top to
show the white heart. Some tribes put up peeled stakes, or stakes split
down the middle.—J. H. H.
[81] In many Angami villages the First Reaper must be a woman.—J. H. H.
[82] See p. 115.
[83] The charms recorded for this ceremony are those used in Akuk. The
formulæ used in ceremonies vary considerably in different villages.
[84] Persons of another village are on no account allowed to help in
threshing.—J. H. H.
[85] The wild orange is found in the forests along the foot of the Naga
Hills on the Assam side, while the culture of limes and pomelos, though
apparently not of oranges themselves, was brought up from the Chindwin
valley by the Southern Sangtams, who carried the seeds with them on
their wanderings. Cf. also Gurdon, The Khasis, p. 41.—J. H. H.
[86] I have heard of one case of a mithan interbreeding with a gaur
(Bos gaurus), a few of which are still to be found in the foot-hills of
the Lhota country. The calf died, however. Such crosses are said to be
not uncommon in the North Cachar Hills.
[87] The Semas have a similar custom. The intention apparently is to
keep a certain amount of control over this semi-feral animal by
retaining something which has been in close contact with it.—J. H. H.
[88] Lhotas give to newly acquired pigs the bulbous root of a small
ground orchid which they call wokoloha (pigs’ luck-stone). This is
believed to have the effect of inducing them to take to their new
surroundings without running away (as we put butter on a cat’s paws)
and prevents their fighting with the other pigs in the house. It also
seems to promote the prosperity of the pig generally.—J. H. H.
[89] There are two distinct types of Naga dog—one with a short and hard
coat, sometimes red, but usually black with white chest and often with
white paws and collar or a white splash on the back of the neck; the
other long-haired and either black or red, though sometimes all white
or white with a few black blotches. The long-haired type, like the
other, has a good nose, but its coat is too thick for it to be able to
hunt game for long.—J. H. H.
[90] It is probably also thought that the preservation of the shell
aids the preservation of the chicken during its infancy.—J. H. H.
[91] Corresponds to the Angami Tsikeo.—J. H. H.
[92] By the Semas, at any rate, something, if only a scrap, must be
given by the owner of the dogs to the dogs themselves. Cf. S. C. Roy,
The Oraons of Nagpur, p. 157.—J. H. H.
[93] In some villages of the Northern Lhotas the curse is removed by
cutting off the head, not the paws.
[94] Cf. T. C. Hodson, Naga Tribes of Manipur, p. 57.
[95] This fruit, thrice cooked, is used as food by the Konyaks and
pronounced very good—“like ghi.” Cooked once only, it is used by them
as a rat poison.—J. H. H.
[96] A Chang who loses his way cuts off a bit of his hair and sticks it
in a cleft stick or the fork of a tree, no doubt as a substitute for
his own person. After which the python lets him go and he finds his way
home. A Sema under similar circumstances offers a bit of the fringe of
his cloth.—J. H. H.
[97] My experience of fish “poisoning” by Lhotas is that the discipline
of the leaders over the younger men beating the “poison” into the river
is so poor that the invariable result is that almost the only fish
taken are a few labeo, a bottom-feeding fish more susceptible to poison
than mahseer, and any cat-fish (Bagarius yarrellii or Silundia
gangetica or some similar Siluroid) that there may be in the river.
Ultimately I came to the conclusion that, as far as game-fish at any
rate were concerned, poisoning by niro did more good than harm, as it
cleared out the predatory fish while scarcely affecting the mahseer and
its kin. I found later that Mr. Soppitt’s experiences among the
Kacharis in the North Cachar Hills had led him to precisely the same
conclusion (see C. A. Soppitt, Historical and Descriptive Account of
the Kachari Tribes in the North Cachar Hills, Shillong, 1885. Reprinted
with an introduction by E. C. Stuart Baker, 1901, pp. 51, 52).—J. H. H.
[98] See p. 160.
[99] I have known Lhotas diving in the Doyang in the rains, when that
river was muddy and in spate, catch fish by hand without any sort of
aid, apparently picking them up stupid from the river bed.—J. H. H.
[100] On the other hand, the Aos and Changs place a high value on otter
flesh. They believe that fish-bones will never stick in the throat of
anyone who has eaten it. If a particularly large fish-bone does by any
chance stick in the throat of a Chang who has ever eaten otter meat he
has only to murmur “I am an otter,” and down it goes.
[101] Most Nagas, including Lhotas, eat hawks with avidity. Possibly
this accounts for it.—J. H. H.
[102] Probably the reason, in some cases at any rate, is the fear that
the propensity of the animal for destroying and wasting paddy will pass
to the woman, who is responsible for regulating the household
consumption, and thereby cause the household store of grain to be
unduly depleted. This is almost certainly the reason in the case of the
monkey and might apply equally to the wild mithan and buffalo, to the
bear and to the elephant. It could hardly be applied to the serow or to
the pangolin. The former of these two is a roaming animal and rarely
sleeps long in the same spot, which offers an obvious reason for the
prohibition. The pangolin is such a curious beast that anyone might shy
at eating him. The Sema forbids gibbon meat lest the children inherit
the cry.—J. H. H.
[103] A Lhota woman was accused in my court of having poisoned her
husband under circumstances which left little doubt as to her guilt in
my mind, though the charge could not be proved in court. It is
generally believed that women have knowledge of poisons which are
unknown to men, and I am inclined to think that the belief is not
without foundation.—J. H. H.
[104] The names of the lines given here are those current in Akuk. The
names vary considerably in different villages.
[105] Cf. T. C. Hodson, Naga Tribes of Manipur, p. 62. Cf. also
Lt.-Col. J. Shakespear, Kuki-Lushei Clans, for its prevalence
throughout the hills.
[106] This variety is, I think, identical with the Bean game as played
by the Angamis, while the other variety probably bears more resemblance
to the Sema game.—J. H. H.
[107] The Sema, like the Angami, flute has two round holes, burnt.—J.
H. H.
[108] The order given is that in which the first ancestors are said to
have emerged from the earth. The three phratries are regarded as being
of equal status. Tom-pyak-tserre is said to mean
“forehead-scraping-clean-men,” Izumon-tserre “scattered-men,” and
Mi-pong-san-dre “with fire-smoke-conquering-men.”
[109] A big Sema village of the Asimi clan in the Doyang valley,
south-east of the present Lhota country.
[110] Another tradition says that the old man was of the Nguli clan.
The Chorothui clan only numbers nine households all told. They do not
know to what phratry they belong.
[111] I have always heard the relationship stated as between the Sema
Wotsami and the Lhota Shetri. In any case I am inclined to think the
relationship between respective clans of different tribes an artificial
growth no doubt derived from the considerable diffusion of common blood
among the Naga tribes. If it were genuine the Wotsami clan of Semas
should be associated with the Othui rather than the Nguli or Shetri
clans. Vide infra, Part V.: Story of “How men were turned into
Gibbons.” Up to a certain point there is no doubt a real connection, as
the Ao Pongen or Pongrr, like the Sema Chishilimi, claim a patrician
descent distinct from that of other clans, while the corresponding Ang
clan among the Konyaks still retains its distinct patrician position. I
believe the Changs’ refusal to intermarry with a corresponding Ao clan
is probably no older than the absorption by the Changs of a number of
Ao villages at a comparatively recent date, when they also adopted the
practice of exposure of the dead. At the present time they expose or
bury as they feel inclined, but Colonel Woods, who toured in their
country in 1900, states specifically that they bury their dead and
makes no mention at all of exposure, though this was certainly
practised at that time by the neighbouring Ao, Phom and Konyak villages
also visited by Colonel Woods.—J. H. H.
[112] Cf. The Angami Nagas, Part III., “The Exogamous System,” and
Appendix III. under “Lhota.”—J. H. H.
[113] The Semas, who do the same, regard such marriages with favour
rather than disfavour, I think.—J. H. H.
[114] Cf. Sema chochomi.—J. H. H.
[115] This is what is normally done by the Semas.—J. H. H.
[116] A serious quarrel between villages resulting in bloodshed entails
a similar prohibition. For instance, Pungkitung once killed a number of
Lungsa men, and Lungsa retaliated in kind. To this day members of the
two villages cannot eat together, and a Lhota of another village who
has accepted hospitality in either Lungsa or Pungkitung cannot on the
same day take food from the hands of a man of the other village. This
bar does not, however, prevent the inhabitants of the two villages from
intermarrying freely.
[117] One “khel” of Rephyim is supposed to have died out because the
head-taking ceremony was once performed there with a Lhota head.
[118] So too the Kachins (Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States,
I. i. p. 432) and the Northern Brè (ibid. p. 533).—J. H. H.
[119] Yampongo of Phiro, a man of great note in his time. He died of a
burst blood-vessel when leading home a mithan captured in the
operations against the Kukis in 1918, and he was over sixty at the
time.—J. H. H.
[120] Compare the Sema song sung by returning warriors, “O Yemusali, O
Yemali,” the meaning of which is not known to the Semas. The words are
obviously the same as those in the Lhota song; and if, as seems
possible, there has been a more intimate connection between the Lhotas
and the Southern Sangtams than now appears, then the Semas may have
acquired the phrase from the numerous Sangtams whom they have absorbed
during the comparatively recent growth and extension of their (the
Sema) tribe.—J. H. H.
[121] See p. 25. One Lhota from Pangti told me that orrülama were left
by the returning warriors at each cross-roads they came to on their way
home, the object being to guide the spirit of the slain enemy as it
followed the head. The Changs believe that the spirits of dead enemies
follow their heads some hours later, whimpering as they go.
[122] The Southern Sangtams put them into gourds and place them on the
top of bamboo poles outside the “morung,” the head or gourd being
transfixed vertically with a bit of wood like a spear.—J. H. H.
[123] So too the Sea Dyaks of Sarawak and some African tribes.—J. H. H.
[124] The practice of buying slaves or orphans for this purpose is
perhaps worst among the unadministered Konyak villages, where it is a
matter of common occurrence, and is probably normal when a chief’s son
wishes to put on warrior’s dress and marry. His father buys a slave,
who is tied up in the village, where the boy kills him in public.
—J. H. H.
[125] In some Lhota villages—e.g. Lungithang—specially made wooden
clubs were kept for use in village rows, and no doubt also fights of
this sort, to avoid recourse to edged tools. The Yachungrr tribe does
the same, clubs being made for women as well as men in this tribe, and
I have known Kacha Nagas (Maruongmai) also to use made clubs, long and
flat, for village riots.—J. H. H.
[126] = Sema Kungumi, and Chang Müghka.—J. H. H.
[127] Potso is commonly used as a form of address to highly respected
persons such as sahibs, like the Assamese Deota, which is, or at one
time was, employed in the same way, and means a godling of some
kind.—J. H. H.
[128] This is the translation given me by Lhotas. The word may really
mean “water-mother,” opfu being one of the Lhota words for mother.
[129] The Sema belief as to Muzamuza, the corresponding Sema deity, is
stated in the same terms, but Muzamuza is Echo.—J. H. H.
[130] The lizard, in particular the sand-lizard with a very shiny skin,
is the subject of some superstitious belief among most Nagas. Thus it
is engraved by Tobu (a ? Konyak village east of the Chang country) on
the long daos they make, tattooed by Chang warriors on their breasts,
painted in black gum on the central white band of the Rengma
head-taking cloth, and sometimes, I think, painted or carved in Konyak
“morungs.” The Semas seem to associate it somehow with the distinction
between the sexes (v. The Sema Nagas), like some Australian tribes.
—J. H. H.
[131] Cf. The Angami Nagas, Appendix VII., The Meitheis (Hodson), p.
99; The Khasis (Gurdon), p. 170. Mr. W. S. Furness (Journal of the
Anthropological Institute, XXXII., 1902, “Ethnography of the Nagas of
Eastern Assam”) states that a stone called Puzzi, near the Sema village
of Champhimi, which used to be erect but is now laid flat, was killed
by the Angami god Tukko, who knocked him down and cut off his head.
This god “Tukko” is clearly Tŭkăhū, which is the Sema name for Japvo
mountain.—J. H. H.
[132] Shakespear, The Lushai Kuki Clans, p. 64.
[133] All Naga tribes that I know hold these two conflicting beliefs as
to the life after death, regarding the soul as inhabiting a butterfly
or other insect, and also as continuing an anthropomorphic existence.
The discrepancy does not seem to occur to them till pointed out, and
not to worry them much then. “Who knows?” is all they say.—J. H. H.
[134] The Angami differs in sending the souls of the “good” to the sky
and the rest only to the underworld.—J. H. H.
[135] On this road the spirit, Etchhilivanthamo, lies in wait for
passers-by to catch and destroy them if he can. To appease him every
dead Lhota has a bead tied to his wrist when buried, so that he can
give it to this spirit and get by.—J. H. H.
[136] The Angamis regard the shrew mouse as the wild boar of the
dead.—J. H. H.
[137] Probably in the under-world or as insects; cf. the Angami belief
(The Angami Nagas, Part IV.).
[138] In Phiro and Saki the term Puki is used to denote not only the
religious officials of the village, but anyone who has performed all
the social “gennas,” a use closely resembling that of the title Kemovo
among the Angamis (of the Kohima group only, where Pitsü is used =
Puthi in its usual sense, other Angamis using Kemovo = Puthi, and Pitsü
for the oldest male in the village).—J. H. H.
[139] Cf. The Oraons of Nagpur, p. 111, note.—J. H. H.
[140] In Morakcho I was told that anyone who speared the opya in the
“head” would die within the year.—J. H. H.
[141] See Hodson, Naga Tribes of Manipur, p. 119.
[142] The blade of a dao is ground on one side of its edge only, giving
a plano-convex cutting edge, so that blows can be made to cut only by a
downward stroke from the right, or an upward stroke from the left, or,
in the case of a dao made on purpose for a left-handed man, vice
versa.—J. H. H.
[143] The Kalyo-Kengyu preserve the bodies of the dead in coffins in
their houses during the year, and on a fixed day at the “genna” for
sowing throw away all the bodies collected during the year, together
with their coffins, belongings, etc. The bodies, however, are broken up
first and the bones collected out of them and put in an earthen pot and
kept at the back of the granary, where they are left to decompose of
themselves.—J. H. H.
[144] Formerly it was the custom for a man who had performed the whole
series to give a final feast, to which even birds and beasts were
invited. Rice and food were scattered on the ground for the village
pigs and chickens, and a special share of meat and rice was taken down
to the performer’s fields and left there for the crows. There is no one
alive now who has dispensed hospitality on this lavish scale.
[145] Among the defects which disqualify a mithan in the view of Ao
Nagas is any defect in the position, etc., of the whorls of hair on the
animal’s throat and muzzle, about which the Aos are very particular.
—J. H. H.
[146] The ceremonies described below are those performed in Pangti. The
details vary considerably from village to village.
[147] All Nagas put up green stuff over their doors when observing
household “gennas,” apparently as a signal to strangers not to
interfere. There may be some other idea beneath it. A Lhota who passes
the corpse of a man who has met with a violent end waves a bit of green
stuff to and fro across his face. Mr. Mills tells me that this is to
ward off the evil fate (nyok) which has attached to the dead man and
may infect the passerby. Nyok possibly = Angami ropfü (v. The Angami
Nagas, Part IV.).—J. H. H.
[148] The Northern Lhotas carry the stone, but the Southern Lhotas drag
it up on a rough sledge made of a forked branch, small branches being
repeatedly laid in front of it to act as rollers.
[149] Mr. C. R. Pawsey tells me that the stone set up at Pembvo’s grave
(on the same ridge as Changsung and Ralung but to the south of them, a
long-deserted village site) bears a rough incision believed by the
local Lhotas, who greatly cherish Pembvo’s memory, to represent the
hornbill feathers he used to wear. The incision is in the form of an
arc, the convex side upmost, with six lines proceeding from it like
rays. I have once seen a stone ornamented with designs in pig’s fat;
the village was, as far as I remember, Changsung.—J. H. H.
[150] These Y-shaped posts are used as an emblem of prosperity by the
Garos, Naked Rengmas, Sangtams, Semas, and by the Hankip clan of Thado
Kukis, and were clearly used by the Kachari kings of Dimapur, who have
left them in stone instead of wood at Dimapur. Originally they
doubtless represent the female organ of generation, in which capacity
they are still made and carried in Kohima village at the Lisü “genna,”
and, preceded by an emblem of the male organ, are dragged through the
village by chaste boys. Kohima, however, seems to be the only genuine
Angami village which either uses the Y-shaped post or performs the Lisü
“genna” in this way. Possibly the Y-shaped post is to be definitely
connected with the Bodo immigration into Assam.—J. H. H.
[151] Lhotas believe that a man who kills a pangolin will die if a
scale falls from the skin of the animal. The Phoms of Hukpang have the
same belief.—J. H. H.
[152] Lhota women wishing for an easy delivery in childbirth catch the
little sand lizard called shamdram, probably belonging to the skink
family, having a very smooth and glossy surface to its scales, and of
active habits, and rub it round their navel and abdomen, saying, “Let
my child be slippery like you, and come without difficulty.” Then they
let it go again.—J. H. H. The Hopi Indians of Arizona use a weasel skin
for the same purpose (cf. Man, July 1921, p. 99).
[153] Angamis and Semas bury the afterbirth. The Khasis hang it up in
trees.—J. H. H.
[154] A similar taboo exists among the Garos; cf. Major A. Playfair,
The Garos, p. 23.
[155] The Semas and Angamis still do, I think, but they do not abandon
the house.—J. H. H.
[156] The same custom obtains among the Kacharis and other tribes of
the Assam valley.—J. H. H.
[157] Among the Aos and Konyaks, on the other hand, the usual practice
is for a youth to choose as his wife one of the girls whose favours he
has been in the habit of enjoying.
[158] A somewhat different account of a Lhota wedding is given on p. 74
of Part I. of the Assam Census Report, 1911. In spite of careful
inquiries I have been unable to find any Lhota who has ever heard of
the marriage song and mock fight there described.
[159] In the case of the Rengmas a younger brother who has a fancy for
his elder brother’s wife by no means necessarily waits for his
brother’s absence, nor does the elder brother necessarily object to his
younger brother’s having intercourse with his (the elder’s) wife. I
have known the elder brother acquiesce in this even when the younger
was married to a wife of his own. This last it was who objected.—J. H.
H.
[160] Some of the Konyaks use coffins of this type, and the
Kalyo-Kengyu also seem to use a dug-out receptacle for the bodies of
the dead while they are kept in the house during the desiccation
process.—J. H. H.
[161] One or two villages situated near the lower reaches of the Doyang
where it emerges into the plains make dug-out canoes hewn from a single
log. These are admittedly copies of those made by the Assamese, with
whom these villages have been in long and close contact.
[162] So the Assamese of the plains believe that if a false report of a
man’s death is circulated he will live long. The Semas on the other
hand believe that it will cause his death untimely.—J. H. H.
[163] The Northern Lhotas build a miniature roof over the grave.
[164] The Kalyo-Kengyu make periodic offerings by the path until the
sowing following the death, when the body is broken up. A mat is spread
and every sort of grain poured out, and some of all the fruits and
vegetables available, together with wooden daos, spears and cross-bows,
are put out for the dead, whole baskets of valuable grain being emptied
by the roadside for this purpose.—J. H. H.
[165] The Tangkhuls build a miniature house on a very high machan (for
the size of the house) with a tiny notched bamboo for the spirit to use
as a ladder.—J. H. H.
[166] For a similar belief among the Garos, cf. Major A. Playfair, The
Garos, p. 23.
[167] According to Sir J. Frazer the reason is fear of the ghost, vide
Psyche’s Task, pp. 134, 135 (2nd ed.), where the customs of the Shans
and Kachins are mentioned and prove to be remarkably similar to those
of the Lhotas.—J. H. H. These deaths are known in Naga-Assamese as
“apotia.”
[168] In a case that came to my notice at Lotsü, when the Puthi’s son
got drowned when fishing, all the men with the lad threw away all their
cloths, weapons, ornaments and everything they had taken with them on
their outing. Even the dogs they had with them were killed and their
bodies thrown into the jungle. The fact that it was the Puthi’s son
that was drowned probably made the matter much more serious. The
misfortune was put down to the anger of Tchhüpfu at the village having
failed to “poison” the river with deo-bih, but it is possible that this
was done in the hope that I would allow that forbidden practice to be
renewed.—J. H. H.
[169] Semas sometimes come and ask for them, also for the paddy left to
rot in the grain-house. I have known both taken without objection, and
I have known Lhotas also object to both on the grounds that in the act
of taking them away it would be necessary to move them across the
village lands, and that this alone might be enough to bring about some
terrible calamity. I think, however, that jealousy had something to do
with this attitude.—J. H. H.
[170] Unless the disposal of enemy heads on the mingetung is so
reckoned, or the disposal of the afterbirth in trees. Both are buried
by the Angami and the latter by the Sema also.—J. H. H.
[171] The Changs believe that “tiger-men” are confined to the Haki-Ung
clan, where the peculiarity is hereditary. They say that at the time of
the Universal Deluge, when only the highest peaks remained above the
flood, the Haki-Ung clan was the only one from which tigers claimed no
victims. They therefore became the adopted sons of tigers, and to this
day have tiger “familiars.” No member of the clan may kill or touch the
corpse of a tiger. When a tiger is killed it is believed a member of
the Haki-Ung clan will die six days later in a distant village.
[172] In this connection the Journal of the Royal Anthropological
Institute (“Leopard Men in the Naga Hills”) for Jan.–June 1920 may be
referred to.—J. H. H.
[173] Among other Naga tribes these stones must be black and heavy for
their size, and show a wet smear when rubbed with the thumb. They are
nodules of some stone which is not a normal geological feature of the
country, and are regarded as distinct from the larger water-worn stones
kept to bring fortune to the community, which are definitely of the
locality. Cf. The Sema Nagas, Part IV. (Anagha).—J. H. H.
[174] See The Angami Nagas, Part I.—J. H. H.
[175] The Semas and some other tribes rub them with pig’s fat.—J. H. H.
[176] It may be noticed that the presentation of fish by a man to his
betrothed is the formal sign of the completion of an Ao marriage.—J. H.
H.
[177] Cf. Apuleius, The Golden Ass, Chap. XV.—J. H. H.
[178] Rarakham appears to be the same as the Sema pulakhu, which,
however, was identified for me as Mosla dianthera. It is quite likely
that both plants are used by Nagas under the same name.—J. H. H.
[179] The Aos erect a stout and tall rice plant on a piece of bamboo
and put it by the field to make the rice grow, by its good example, as
high from the ground as the top of the uplifted rice plant.—J. H. H.
[180] There is a white serow of supernatural qualities at Seromi in the
Sema country, and the Assamese, indeed, call the species deo-chaguli,
“the spirit-goat,” no doubt owing to its exceeding shyness and
elusiveness.—J. H. H.
[181] Lobeni, a dream-woman of Phiro, who was an acquaintance of mine
and whose dreams of hunting prospects were famous for their accuracy,
used to ask for a cloth or handkerchief of her client on which she used
to sleep. The same practice is recorded of the Moscoc, dream diviners
of Peru. (Memorias Antiguas Historiales del Peru, Hakluyt Soc. 1920, p.
60, note.)—J. H. H.
[182] So, too, the Samoans; George Brown, Melanesians and Polynesians
(Macmillan, 1910), p. 219.—J. H. H.
[183] Cf. the New Britain belief; George Brown, Melanesians and
Polynesians, p. 193.—J. H. H.
[184] The interpretation of dreams by opposites (cf. Apuleius, The
Golden Ass, Chap. XXI.) is frequent among Nagas generally, and may no
doubt be usually based on this principle.—J. H. H.
[185] I have found the same belief among the Thado Kukis.—J. H. H.
[186] This belief might be connected with that by which some Nagas
explain earthquakes as the spirit under the earth shaking the earth as
in a winnowing fan to find out what the crops are like and weigh their
quantity and quality.—J. H. H.
[187] Cf. the somewhat similar Garo story; Major A. Playfair, The
Garos, p. 85.—J. P. M.
Cf. also Col. Gurdon, The Khasis, p. 172, where it is to be noticed
that the Khasis, like the Semas, make the moon masculine and the sun
feminine. The Sema version (The Sema Nagas, p. 250) is still nearer to
the Lhota, and a similar story (with a “rabbit” instead of dung) comes
from Mexico. A geographical link between the two stories is perhaps
provided by Japan, where the hare is associated with the moon (vide
Lord Redesdale, Tales of Japan, “The Crackling Mountain,” note 1). The
Malays also say that the sun and moon were once of equal brightness
(Ratzel, History of Mankind, I. p. 478). The Nicobarese have the same
beliefs as the Lhota both as to the former proximity of the sky and as
to the interchange of functions between the sun and the moon (vide The
Indian Antiquary), August 1921, Part DCXXXV. p. 235.—J. H. H.
[188] This view of the cause of eclipses is in accordance with the
common Tibetan account current generally also over at any rate the
north of India. It is the form which explanations of eclipses usually
take among Nagas, but in contrast to the Angami story, which represents
the orb eclipsed as repaying a loan of borrowed light.—J. H. H.
[189] Naga folk-lore in general has much in common with that of other
races of Mongolian affinities. Thus the Naga (Angami) and Kachari story
of the origin of the domestication of certain animals as opposed to the
rest is akin to the Lapp story given by Mr. Andrew Lang under the title
of “The Elf Maiden,” in his Brown Fairy Book. The Angami story is to be
found in The Angami Nagas, Part IV., the Terhengi Genna, and the
Kachari version in Soppitt, Historical and Descriptive Account of the
Kachari Tribes of the North Cachar Hills, p. 56. Much closer, however,
is the resemblance between an incident in the story of “The Fox and the
Lapp” (same volume of Mr. Lang’s Fairy Tales), and the almost verbally
identical incident in the Sema story of Iki and the Tiger (The Sema
Nagas, p. 319). In the latter Iki escapes from the tiger by pointing to
a hornbill flying over and saying, “I made that.” The tiger asks if Iki
can make him like it, and on Iki’s consenting agrees to let himself be
tied up, and to undergo an operation entailing his destruction. In the
Lapp story the fox escapes from the bear by precisely the same ruse, a
woodpecker taking the place of the hornbill. In the same volume of Mr.
Lang’s is a story called “The Husband of the Rat’s Daughter,” quoted as
from Contes Populaires, but apparently coming from Japan, which is
identical with the Angami story of “The Rat Maiden” (The Angami Nagas,
Part V.).—J. H. H.
[190] This and all other stories given are literal translations from
the Lhota. My method has been to have the stories dictated and written
down in Lhota, and then tested for verbal accuracy before translating
them.
[191] All Nagas believe that a severe wound in the tongue causes
instant death.
[192] Certain families of the Shetri clan in Pangti claim to be his
direct descendants.
[193] The “Thimzing” of the Thados and other Kukis; vide Col. J.
Shakespear, The Lushai-Kuki Clans.—J. H. H.
[194] And to the Angami Matseo, the orphan, pretty closely.—J. H. H.
[195] The play upon the words cannot be reproduced in English. Apfuho
really said “emitacholam” (“What a fool of an old woman!”), and then
got out of his difficulty by pretending he had only uttered the middle
syllable “acho,” which is an exclamation like the English “Oh!”
[196] This incident in a very similar form occurs in the Sema story of
Iki and the Tiger (The Sema Nagas, Part VI.).—J. H. H.
[197] The vat was very heavy, being hollowed out of a solid log of
wood, and would soon be swamped if put rim upwards in the water.
[198] This incident in a slightly different setting is found in the
Assamese story of the Monkey and the Jackal, the Kachari story of the
Monkey and the Hare, in an Angami story and also in an Ao story. In the
latter version it is the bear who is thus victimized. For the Kachari
story see J. D. Anderson, Kachari Folk-tales and Rhymes, p. 27
(Shillong, 1895); for the Assamese story see J. Borooah, Folk-tales of
Assam, p. 8 [shial = “jackal” not “fox”] (Howrah, 1915), and for the
Angami story, The Angami Nagas, Part IV.—J. H. H.
The Shans, too, relate a similar story in which the Hare induces the
Tiger to believe that a swarm of bees is a gong. Milne and Cochrane,
The Shans at Home, p. 244. An almost verbally identical episode occurs
in the Sea Dyak story of the Mouse-deer and the Deer. Gomes, Seventeen
Years among the Sea Dyaks of Borneo, p. 260.
[199] Cf. the old fairy tale of Big and Little Klaus.—J. H. H.
[200] In the Angami version the man sends a messenger to the wild dog
who had run away. The messenger, instead of asking for a leg of every
head of game the dog ran down, asked for the whole body. At this the
wild dog, quite prepared to give a leg, lost his temper and said, “Bah!
I’ll give him the hair and leave it on the path for him to find.” Hence
the dung of wild dogs containing large quantities of hair is found
everywhere on paths.—J. H. H.
[201] A very old village, once big, but now shrunk to eight houses.
[202] Such is said to be the meaning of the obsolete Lhota word
tiloran.
[203] Rhizomys prunosus, the flesh of which Nagas regard as a great
delicacy.
[204] Stones are ordinarily put up by Lhotas to commemorate a
sacrifice, but forked wooden posts are occasionally substituted if a
suitable stone is not available. One kindred in Yekhum always puts up
posts instead of stones.
[205] I.e. “Man, man!”
[206] One version of this story states definitely that Kimongthang was
of the Othui clan, and formerly men of that clan were forbidden to eat
gibbon. The Changs tell the same story to account for the origin of the
Kudā́mji clan, which is regarded as a gibbon clan.
The Semas have a story of men of the Wotsami clan having been turned
into gibbons, and despise that clan as the Changs do the Kudā́mji, which
suggests that it is the Othui clan of Lhotas which ought really to be
associated with the Semi Wotsami instead of the Shetri (or, according
to Mr. Mills, the Nguli) as is the case.—J. H. H.
[207] “Tale of the Tiger and the Crab” in Folk-tales of Assam, by J.
Borooah (Howrah, 1915), pp. 54, 55.—J. H. H.
[208] The incident of the long hair of a girl that caused a king to
send men to find her occurs in an ancient Egyptian tale “written down
in the reign of Rameses II, about 1300 B.C.” Vide Sir J. G. Frazer, The
Golden Bough, vol. xi. pp. 135, 136.—J. H. H.
[209] Broad, shiny leaves, only too common in the jungles of the Naga
Hills. The writer has suffered from them more than once. The slightest
touch causes intense irritation, which often does not totally subside
for ten days.
[210] In an Ao folk-tale a man is chased with dogs and escapes in a
similar way.
[211] Nagas regard an oath sworn on broken iron as binding.
[212] Up to this point the story opens in the same terms as the Sema
version of the story of Hunchibili, the maiden who is transformed into
an orange, a bamboo shoot, etc. (vide The Angami Nagas, Part V., and
The Sema Nagas, Part VI). The motif of the transformation of the
heroine to and from some form of fruit or vegetable is a favourite one
in Assamese folk-lore. Vide J. Borooah, Folk-tales of Assam. There are
also Khasi stories of the same kind.—J. H. H.
[213] Probably the hero must be regarded by now as working off the
marriage price by service in his father-in-law’s house according to
Lhota custom.—J. H. H.
[214] As the woman would probably take the opportunity of bathing and
washing her own clothes, it would have been contrary to Lhota etiquette
for her husband to have gone with her.
[215] Cf. Perry, Megalithic Culture of Indonesia, chap. xii. The Vuite
clan of Kukis are also sprung from Dongel and his sister, and the
Kukis, like the Lhotas, have a legend of a period of great darkness and
floods over the earth and fires (The Thimzing), during which the
greater part of mankind was drowned.—J. H. H.
[216] The version of the story given here is that current among the
Northern Lhotas. In the Southern Lhota account Lankongrhoni escapes
into a porcupine’s hole, from which she is afterwards dug out and
killed.
[217] In the Sema version a man throws cow-dung at the sun and turns it
into the moon. In another Assam version ashes are thrown. In a Mexican
version a hare or rabbit is thrown. In all the effect is the same. The
hotter orb is turned into the cooler one. I have not met the story
among Angamis, who describe the marks on the moon’s face as a tree or
as nettles.—J. H. H.
[218] In one version the sun-bird is substituted for the wagtail.
[219] The Kabuis have a similar story of a cure for leprosy being
revealed by a snake; cf. T. C. Hodson, Naga Tribes of Manipur, p. 129.
[220] One is reminded of the reported use of “tortoise” by the Chinese
as a term of mild opprobrium.—J. H. H.
[221] I.e. the Deputy Commissioner of the Naga Hills and the
Subdivisional Officer of Mokokchung.
[222] Linguistic Survey of India, Vol. III., Part II., pp. 284 sqq.
[223] The name of an Ao-Konyak village.
[224] A Sema name for the Sangtams.
[225] A similar tradition is to be found in many Naga tribes as well as
among the Padam Abors and possibly other tribes on the north bank of
the Brahmaputra.—J. H. H.
[226] Dr. Witter gives -katola as the suffix of the apodosis. I am
myself inclined to think that the word tsokatola is the ordinary future
form tsoka, plus a suffix -tola.
[227] The Kayans of Borneo tell a similar story in which the argus
pheasant and the coucal take the place of the cuckoo and crow (The
Pagan Tribes of Borneo, Hose and McDougal, Vol. I., p. 247). The
Greenland Eskimo give a similar account of how the raven became black.
Cf. “The Raven and the Goose,” in Eskimo Folk-tales, by Knud Rasmussen
and W. Worster, p. 66 (Gyldendale, 1921).
[228] Opposite each month I have given the traditional derivation of
the name. The correspondence with the English months is only
approximate, of course.
[229] Travels and Adventures in the Province of Assam, by Major John
Butler, p. 189.
[230] As the keeping of paddy in large corn-baskets is an Angami
custom, and not followed by the Lhotas, the account given to Major
Butler is clearly inaccurate, and I agree with Mr. Mills that it is
probably a sheer invention of the same nature as the Semas and Aos are
in the habit of making with regard to the hostile tribes to the east of
them.—J. H. H.
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