concerning witchcraft—more about burials—the gentle art of making love—the rain-makers.

superstition and witchcraft are strongly in evidence in the new hebrideans, and the natives have more than their share of both. besides those things to which i have already alluded, there is a peculiar idea held in some of the islands that certain sacred men have the power of killing by witchcraft. the method adopted by them is similar in many respects to the usual custom, that of making an image of the man or woman whose death is required, and then doing to it what it is wished shall happen to the original. in the island of tanna the method differs slightly, for here, instead of an image being made, part of the person’s property is stolen and taken to the sacred man who works destruction to its late owner, but he must have this property in his possession, or his maledictions will fail. {164}

the sacred men who are supposed to possess these powers are called narak-burners, and they hold their position through being the possessors of certain stones known as narak stones, which they, or their fathers, have at some time found and buried in the vicinity of their house. some of these stones are in the british museum and show no signs of anything supernatural about them, but the natives hold them in great dread and reverence.

when a man desires the death of any one, he visits the narak—he may only desire to give him a disease, but it is usually death he is after when calling on the narak-burner—and brings with him some hair or food or some particle of clothing belonging to the man he wishes shall suffer. this he presents to the narak, who doctors it up and then wraps it in leaves and burns it over a sacred fire, lit, it is presumed, over or near the place where the narak stones are hidden. as the article begins to burn, so sickness falls upon the owner, who goes on getting worse until the article is completely turned to ashes; then death comes.

a sacred man, aoba, new hebrides

such is the superstition, but of its power i cannot speak. a large payment of shell-money {165} or pigs has to be made to the narak-burner before he starts his work, and if a man hears that his effigy is being thus dealt with, or fancies it is because he feels sick, he will hurry off to the “burner” and offer him a bigger price for his freedom than his enemy has paid for his death. the result of this may be guessed, and a keen bidding often results; if he be rich he is allowed to live, but a poor man has no chance.

it is through the fear of narak burning and evil wishing that the natives bury their hair when they cut it off, and also take care never to leave any half-finished food about. they throw all their refuse into a stream of water, which it is believed removes the power of the narak-burner.

there are so many quaint ceremonies connected with the lives of these natives that a whole volume might be devoted to them alone; and even then to deal with them all thoroughly the volume would have to be a big one. in this book i only intend touching on the outskirts of those which affect their lives most closely, and even then many of the details must be left out, partly because they can only be explained in a scientific work, and partly because they are so intricate. the whys and the wherefores would lead into endless paths. {166}

if a native is rich, the first way he shows it is by changing his name, and, as in england, money has to be spent for this privilege; in the new hebrides it means a feast, and a big one at that. on announcing his desire for a new name to the chief, and proving that he has the means of paying for it, the native goes away by himself for a few weeks, during which time he is considered “duli” and is not allowed to see a woman, and only permitted to eat certain things, as in the case of the new guinea natives when they become ibito.

after his seclusion he is known by his new name, and attends the big religious feast which he himself has provided.

other ways are found for changing names, and certain natives are rewarded for their bravery and good deeds by being given a new one, in much the same way as a man is knighted in england.

the marriage laws are similar to those in the other islands; and pigs are often given to the parents in exchange for their daughter. the girl being chosen more often for her working capabilities than for her beauty.

the burial ceremony and disposal of the corpse vary considerably in the different islands, but since the introduction of christianity they are changing {167} to the ordinary christian burial. in oceania the author says that in old days “in efaté the body was carefully prepared for burial and then dressed. the burial was accompanied with much solemnity, and great wailing, and animals were slain in sacrifice to the dead at the grave. it was supposed that the spirits or essence of the animals slain would accompany the souls of the deceased to the spirit-world, the entrance to which was the westermost point of efaté, at a place called takituki.”

“in malekula,” says lieutenant boyle t. somerville, “a sort of mummy is made, of which specimens were brought to his ship by a white trader, who had procured them in exchange for a rifle at the conclusion of a ‘sing-sing.’ they are said to be the effigies of the chief, whose skull (the only portion retained of all his remains) formed the head. this is plastered with mud to represent a living face, a body of bamboo twigs and mud, highly coloured in black, white and red and purple stripes, forms the figure. on each shoulder a highly conventional face is moulded, looking to right and left respectively, and in each hand is a pig’s lower jaw.”

during mr. hardy’s travels in these islands, he came across a kind of graveyard where chiefs were {168} supposed to be buried underground, and a heap of stones and rocks marked the spots where they lay.

the skull-huts, already alluded to, show that this is still another form of burial—they are innumerable.

rain-making is almost as universal as feeding, and every race has its rain-maker, who, for a consideration, will tap the cloudless sky and bring torrents of water down to quench the thirst of the dry earth. in the new hebrides the rain-maker goes into the forest and there collects the branches of a certain tree, which he cuts into lengths and lays a dozen or so of them parallel to each other. he then takes another dozen and threads them through the parallel ones, forming a kind of flat basket-work hurdle. over this contrivance he mutters prayers, and then buries it in a dried-up creek where the water should be running.

more incantations follow this proceeding, and then heavy stones and rocks are placed over the rain producer, and the inhabitants all wait for the rain, which, strange to say, generally comes.

the stone “demits,” or the souls, with their attendant wooden figures, malekula island, new hebrides.

there is no lack of faith in these natives, and when once they have applied to the rain-maker they set to work to make preparation for the rain, which reminds me of an amusing anecdote i heard in {169} america. in belmont there had been a tremendous drought, and the farmers were in such a fright that they unanimously decided to appoint a certain day on which rain should be prayed for. on the sunday chosen, the farmers, their wives, and families rose early and started off to church. just as one party were leaving home a little child of five or six years old suddenly sprang down from the buggy and cried out for them to wait a minute, as she disappeared into the house. every one wondered what was the matter, and presently, when the child appeared carrying a great big carriage umbrella, they all burst into roars of laughter. “why,” said the father, “you silly child, there’s not a cloud in the sky.”

for a moment the child looked perplexed. “but, daddy,” she said in a tone of wonder, “aren’t we going to pray for rain?”

the natives of the new hebrides are very much like this little girl, and perhaps their faith brings about the results they desire. who knows? sometimes, however, they get more than they desire.

one writer gives an amusing description of what happened in 1890, at ambrym, an island adjoining malekula, when rain was asked for.

“make us rain,” said the natives to the {170} rain-maker, “or our yams will not grow and we shall starve.”

the wise man consented, and after the machine, described above, was duly placed in a dry water-hole, the rain came down in torrents and did not cease for forty-eight hours. it was so severe that the entire surface of the harbour was fresh to the depth of three or four inches; and the water-hole, where the machine had been placed, had ten feet of water in it; whilst the yams in the plantation were being literally washed out of the ground. so great was the consternation of the natives that they were beside themselves with fear, and rushing to the rain-maker implored him to stop the rain. this, however, was no easy task, as the old man explained, because his machine was buried under ten feet of rushing water. being unable to dive he could not get it out, and until it was fished out the rain would continue. the scene can be better pictured than described. at last in desperation the aid of the shore natives, who are good divers and swimmers, was sought, and soon the machine was brought out of the creek, and the rain stopped immediately afterwards.

the most remarkable thing about these and like superstitions is that more often than not they come {171} off as the sages predict they will; and when once one does there is no longer any room for doubt, in the minds of those who wish to believe. that incident of rain-making in 1890 will be talked about for years, and the name of the rain-maker will be handed down to future generations.