Deities of the Ami and Beliefs of this Tribe regarding Heaven and Hell—Beliefs and Ceremonials of the other Tribes of the South—Descent from Bamboo; Carved Representations of Glorified Ancestors and of Serpents; Moon Worship; Sacred Tree, Orchid, and Grass—The Kindling of the Sacred Fire by the Bunun and Taiyal Tribes—Beliefs and Ceremonials of the Taiyal—Rain Dances; Bird Omens; Ottofu; Princess and Dog Ancestors—Yami Celebrations in Honour of the Sea-god.
All those who have come personally into contact with a primitive Malay people will, I think, agree that belief in the “All Father” idea (such as certain anthropologists suggest is “natural to the child-mind of primitive man”) does not hold true of this particular branch of primitive man. Certainly as far as the Formosan aborigines are concerned, there seems no trace of anything of the sort, except possibly among the Ami, of the east coast; and such hazy idea of a Supreme Being as they may perhaps be considered to hold seems probably derived from teachings of the Dutch missionaries given to their ancestors. When questioned at all closely as to their religious belief, they speak of several deities. These are usually in pairs—male and female—as for example Kakring and Kalapiat. These deities seem concerned[131] with the thunderstorms which are frequent on the east coast; these storms being due, according to Ami belief, to the quarrels between the god, Kakring, and his wife, Kalapiat; Kakring causing the thunder by stamping and by throwing about the pots (the latter being the most prized possession of every Ami house-wife), and Kalapiat bringing about lightning by completely disrobing herself in her anger—this being a method of showing displeasure frequently adopted by Ami women. Earthquakes—frequent in Formosa—are supposed to be caused by a spirit in the shape of a great pig scratching himself against a pole, which extends from earth to heaven. Sun, moon, and stars were created by Dgagha and Bartsing—god and goddess, respectively. The earth the Ami believe to be flat; the sun goes under it at night, the moon and stars under it during the day.
The Ami seem more democratic in religion, as well as in politics, than the mountain tribes; that is, the theocracy of the priestesses seems less strong. Priestesses, however, exist among them, and in time of illness or danger they are asked to intercede with the various deities. Intercession takes the form of a sort of chanting prayer, growing louder and wilder as it continues, accompanied by the throwing into the air of small coloured pebbles (now sometimes glass beads bartered from Chinese and Japanese), together with small pieces of the flesh of wild pig—this apparently as an offering to the deities.
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When a tribal group among the Ami is in serious distress or danger, or faced by the necessity of a decision of importance, the elders of the group[64]—or village, if only one village is affected—usually repair to a cave, or to a place near a high cliff—wherever an echo may be heard—accompanied by several priestesses. The latter dance and chant themselves into a state of frenzy, until they fall exhausted in a swoon, real or simulated. When they return to consciousness, which is sometimes not until next day, they say that the spirits which “sang back” at them from cliff or cave during the chanting have told them what measures the people must take in order to meet the emergency in question. This can be communicated only to the elders; and only the elders are allowed to watch this especially sacred dance. For any of the younger people to do so would be considered a heinous sin.
The red stones, or beads, used by the priestesses in their incantations are also sometimes used by the older warriors and huntsmen. An old hunter, just before starting into the mountains in search of game, will put a red pebble into a freshly opened betel-nut, lay this in the palm of his hand and wave it before his face, palm upward, toward the sky. This is supposed to bring him good luck in the chase. The same ceremony is said to have[133] been performed in the olden days, just before starting on a head-hunting expedition.
The ideas of the Ami regarding heaven and hell also suggest that these may be the vestiges of missionary teachings once given by the Dutch (the present-day missionaries in Formosa confine their attention to the Chinese-Formosans as before explained). Good men and women, the Ami believe, go to “heaven,” and bad ones to “hell.” Heaven they believe to be situated “somewhere in the north”; hell “somewhere in the south.” One wonders if this belief as regards direction represents a tribal recollection of their former home—perhaps of a massacre, which caused the emigration of those remaining; perhaps of hunger, thirst, and terror on the voyage between the “land to the south” and Formosa. At any rate, their tradition is that their ancestors drifted to the coast, which is now their home, in a “long boat.” The very spot of their debarkation is pointed out—a place near Pinan.[65] Once a year a commemoration festival is held at this spot, when food and drink are offered to the spirits of their ancestors. Their own ancestors of course have gone to heaven, where they themselves will go after death; equally of course the people of the other tribes, especially those with whom they happen to be at enmity, will go to hell (savage and civilized psychology being on some points strangely alike). The Ami say, however, that hell[134] cannot be any worse than the earth; otherwise spirits would not remain there.
With the Piyuma—the small east coast tribe living just south of the Ami—the most sacred spot is a bamboo-grove a few miles inland called by themselves “Arapani.” Here, according to Piyuma tradition, was planted the staff of a god, which grew into a bamboo. From different joints of this bamboo sprang the first man and the first woman, ancestors of the Piyuma people. Markings on a stone near Arapani are said to be footprints of this first couple. Hence this stone is considered most sacred.
The tradition of being descended from ancestors sprung from a bamboo is held by other tribes than the Piyuma; in fact, it is held by practically all the Formosan tribes; also by the Tagalog tribe of the Philippines. A similar tradition is referred to in the Japanese tale of Taketori-Monogatari—now, I believe, translated into English.[66]
FAMILY OF THE AMI TRIBE.
GLORIFIED ANCESTOR OF THE PAIWAN TRIBE CARVED ON A SLATE MONUMENT.
The Paiwan—the tribe south of the Piyuma—and indeed the southernmost of the main island—is the only aboriginal tribe that has anything approaching what missionaries would call “idols”—that is, carved representations of deity. Before the house of the chief of every tribal group among the Paiwan stands an upright block of slate on which is carved a figure supposed to be human, this figure often being surrounded by markings [135]representing serpents.[67] Both human and serpentine figures are carved in the slate by means of sharpened flint, or other stone harder than slate. As the Paiwan also build their houses of slate (by a method to be spoken of more in detail under the head of Arts and Crafts), representations of human heads and snakes are carved always on the lintel over the doorway of the chief; and often on that over the doorways of successful warriors and huntsmen.[68]
Some anthropologists might see in this frequent representation of the snake evidence of snake totemism on the part of the Paiwan. I do not, however, think this is the case. The Paiwan venerate the snake as being the most dangerous of living creatures (in the tropical jungles of Formosa there are naturally many deadly species); but this veneration is more in the nature of theriolatry than totemism. They seem to think that by having constantly before their eyes representations of this the most dreaded of all the creatures of the jungle, they will, through a sort of sympathetic magic, be inspired with the bravery, as they regard it—if not the wisdom—of the serpent.
As for the figure in human semblance carved on the slate tablet, or monument, in front of the chief’s house, I am inclined to think this represents rather a glorified ancestor—in the sense in which the Japanese often use the word “Kami[136]” (Chinese character)—rather than “god” in the Western sense of that word. Certainly the Paiwan—like the other aboriginal tribes—pay greater reverence to the spirits of ancestors than to any deity. Besides the ancestral spirits believed to inhabit the ancient swords or knives, previously referred to,[69] there are other spirits whose dwelling-place they believe to be the forest or jungle. All these are worshipped twice a year, at millet planting time and at harvest, when food and drink are offered to the spirits of the dead, at the same time that feasting and drinking are going on among the living; and once every five years at the time of the harvest festival occurs the great celebration, when there is played the game of Mavay aiya,[70] already described.
Adjoining the territory of the Paiwan, on the north-west,[71] is that of the Tsarisen. Among the latter there is a tradition that their ancestors came down from the moon, bringing with them twelve jars of baked clay, or earthenware. At the home of the chief of the principal tribal group of this now small people are kept two or three old baked-clay pots, or jars, believed by the tribes-people to be of lunar origin—a remnant of the original twelve brought down by their ancestors. These of course are never used, but are regarded by them as being most sacred, only the chief and the priestesses being allowed to touch, or even to go near, them. By the side of the old jars is kept[137] a large, circular white stone, also carefully cherished, believed to be in some way connected with the moon; but whether it was brought from the moon, or whether its appearance suggests the full moon, is not clear.
It is before these treasures that the priestesses dance, and also before them that at the semi-annual festivals they place offerings of millet and millet wine, also sometimes of fruit and other food, chanting as they do so. This chanting is supposed to invoke the spirits of the moon-ancestors, who come down during the ceremony and bestow blessings upon the tribe. In other groups within the Tsarisen tribe, where there are no sacred jars or stones, the priestesses arrange the food-offerings in little piles close together, forming a circle: this to simulate the full moon. To step within the charmed circle would be sacrilege unspeakable; an offence so serious that only the death of the offender, the tribes-people say, would remove from the tribe the blight that otherwise would fall upon it. It is not on record that any member of the tribe has ever had the temerity to attempt this; and no member of any other tribe is allowed to come near the sacred spot.
North of the Tsarisen are the Tsuou and Bunun tribes; the former a very small tribe, numbering now less than two thousand, the latter numbering about fifteen thousand, roughly speaking.
The religious belief—or rather religious ceremonial, for with primitive people ritual apparently[138] counts for more than dogma—of the Tsuou is closely bound up with what is sometimes called “tree-worship.” That is, within, or very near, each village there is a certain tree which is regarded as holy; and once a year—at harvest-time—millet wine is sprinkled near the roots of the tree, and singing, dancing, and feasting carried on under its branches. I do not consider, however, that this constitutes true tree-worship, nor do I think that the Tsuou have a “tree-cult.” Rather, their ceremonial is connected with ancestor-worship, for they seem to think that the spirits of their ancestors dwell in the sacred trees, and it is to these spirits that wine is offered at harvest time, and invocations made.
The Tsuou also regard a certain orchid which grows in that part of the island as being of peculiar sanctity. They transplant it from the forest where it grows to the ground at the root of the sacred tree of each village. During the dry season the priestesses water it, and always they tend it with scrupulous care. This custom also is obviously connected with the reverence in which the tribes-people hold their ancestors, for the latter, they believe, wore this orchid when they went to battle with neighbouring tribes, and through its magic efficacy achieved victory. The Tsuou seem to think that in some way this orchid will eventually restore—or be instrumental in restoring—the former dominance and prosperity of their tribe.
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The Bunun, unlike their neighbours, the Tsuou, regard a certain kind of tall grass, which grows in the mountainous region in which they live, as being of even greater sanctity than trees. Twice a year—at seed-time and at harvest-time—great bundles of this green grass are brought into the houses, millet wine is sprinkled before the doorway of each house, and invocations to ancestors are sung and danced in the open, between the houses of each village.
Among the Bunun, as also among all the tribal groups of the great Taiyal “nation,”[72] there exists the peculiar custom of starting a “new fire” at the time of the sowing and harvest festivals. This “new fire” is ceremonially kindled. At other times, should the fire go out (though this is considered a thing of evil omen), or should hunters, away from home, wish to start a fire, flint-and-steel percussion is used—this method apparently having been learned from the Dutch of the seventeenth century, or possibly from the Chinese. On the ceremonial days of the year, however—the days when offerings are made to ancestors—fire must be kindled by a method in use in the “days of the fathers.”
Among the Bunun this takes the form of the “fire-drill”—the twirling of a pointed stick of hard wood of some sort in a depression made in[140] a stick of softer wood, until the friction heats the flakes of soft wood, thus “eaten away,” to a point where flame can be produced by placing against this hot wood-dust bits of very dry grass or leaves, and blowing upon it. In order thus to produce fire, the chief of the tribal group—among the Bunun usually a man—shuts himself up alone in his hut, which for the time being it is tabu for his subjects to approach, twirling the fire-drill and blowing upon the wood-dust and tinder, until the sacred fire is “born.” From the flame thus kindled is lighted first his own domestic fire; then those of all the other members of the village or group, who, after the actual kindling of the flame, are invited into the hut of the chief.
The Taiyal method of lighting the sacred fire is a little different from that employed by the Bunun. Among the Taiyal the d............