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Suriname folk-lore (1936)

Suriname folk-lore

(1936)–Melville J. Herskovits, Frances S. Herskovits–rechtenstatus Auteursrecht onbekend

Vorige Volgende

8. The Soul

In our discussion thus far we have described those customs and sanctions which may be loosely grouped under the heading of social beliefs and practices. We may now turn to the consideration of certain spiritual forces which, from the point of view of the people themselves, are judged to be the concern of the individual. It must not be inferred, however, that these manifestations are the less based on popular sanction. In fact, we have already had occasion to refer to a number of the spiritual forces which we are now to discuss in more detail, for so integrated are the religious sanctions with all phases of life that whatever the approach, or whatever phase of life is touched upon, these must be introduced.

Of all the supernatural forces which govern the destiny of the individual, none surpasses the role of the akra, - the soul - in determining that destiny.1 The akra is a man's ruling spirit, and when it is well disposed toward him guards him against the sinister forces that are set in motion by human enemies, or unfriendly gods. It comes to a man at birth, and dies with him when he dies; and except for its wanderings during a man's sleep, it is with him always, and is faithfully on guard for him, if its dictates are obeyed.

Associated with the akra is the djodjo,2 but so little uniformity of opinion exists about the nature of these two forces that we shall give both of the two views most frequently met with. One view holds that the two terms are the names for the two separate souls with which every man is endowed at birth, and while the akra remains with the individual, the djodjo, which is also the man's shadow, is the wanderer, the soul which goes abroad to see strange things.

When a man is about to die, it returns from whatever distant place it had strayed, and dies with him, to become, however, the man's yɔrka, - his ghost. But having been a restless soul during the life of the man, it remains restless after death, and when a man is given improper burial, or when he has led an evil life, this djodjo, because of anger toward the world of the living, or because of its inherent evil nature, haunts human dwellings and thoroughfares, and carries with it misfortune and death for the living. It is also said that a man's djodjo, in the course of its wanderings, may be trapped or imprisoned or shot by a sorcerer; thus is brought on the slow death of the man to whom it belongs, and the djodjo becomes the tool of the sorcerer for his death-dealing errands. In the course of these wanderings, however, the djodjo has opportunities to learn secrets, and it is this knowledge that is revealed to man in dreams, though the revelations are made in symbolic form, and require to be interpreted by those who know the lore of dreams and the meaning of the symbols.1

Yet another name heard for akra and djodjo is ye or yeye, and this is said by those who hold the second view of the matter to be both the soul and the shadow of the man. This, too, is claimed for the akra by those who hold that akra and djodjo and yeye are synonyms. The akra, they argue, has all the powers ascribed to the djodjo and all its attributes, for it goes forth in sleep to visit strange places, and what it sees, man experiences as dreams; it can be trapped, imprisoned or shot by a sorcerer, and after death can come to haunt the living as a yɔrka; when offended it may decide to leave the individual and set out on a journey, coming back before the death of the individual to die with him.

Whether there are two souls or one for each individual, the term which has greatest currency is akra or 'kra.2 What does a man know about his soul? To begin with, there are, apparently, as many categories of souls as there are days of the week.3 Every individual has one name which he does not disclose, unless he is consulting a diviner, and this name is his ‘day name’, of which mention has already been made. It derives from the day of the week on which

a man is born, and is called his 'kra name. In discussing causes for divorce, reference was made to the fact that the soul of a man and a woman may not agree, and that is because some souls are not compatible. Today, only those versed in the ancient mythology can trace back how the gods had fared in their matings in order to understand the cause of these maladjustments, but of these, few survive. An informant, whose name is that given to a male child born on Thursday, - Yao - indicated that a Saturday girl would be a congenial mate for him, but not one born on a Friday. In writing of marriage, we also mentioned that it is held that a man and a woman born on the same day are rarely successful in marriage, or any other undertaking involving a partnership. This is because the two derive their knowledge from the same supernatural forces, and are equally aware of situations, so that if one uses bad judgment on occasion, or attempts some deception, the other recognises this instantly, and this makes for friction.

Not alone, however, are souls to be classified according to the days of the week and the resulting powers which inhere in these days, but also according to whether they are weak souls, or strong.1 Several persons told us that because their souls are not strong, if bad magic is planted during the night for some neighbor in the yard, they awake the next morning feeling ‘like licks all over the body’, - as though they had been flogged. Indeed, a soul lacking in strength is the prey of any force that wishes to control it, and since strength of soul is inherited, the only recourse an individual has to seek to strengthen his 'kra is to resort to a diviner for magic to keep the evil forces away. A strong soul, however desirable it may be, brings difficulties to its possessor. In defining the term akra and its role in the life of the individual, we qualified the fulfilment of that role as conditional upon its being well disposed toward the individual, and upon its having its dictates followed. A promise made to a strong soul, if not carried out, angers the soul, and causes it to seek vengeance, which in extreme form leads its possessor to behave in such anti-social ways as to steal, to destroy property and even to kill. A strong 'kra, if it chooses, may dispute the right of a wɩnti to become a familiar of the individual, so that the wɩnti harasses him and brings him illness.

In order to understand what these promises to the soul are, we must turn to a consideration of the forms which worship of the akra takes. One of the duties which every individual owes his akra is to give it a timely feast.2 This should be done annually, if a person

has the means with which to do it, for the akra refuses to be taken for granted. It must not be thought, however, that debts to the soul are acquitted in as regular a manner as this statement would imply. As a matter of fact, a person delays doing homage to his soul until such a time as he has unmistakable evidence, through some overt manifestation on the part of his soul, that it is displeased and must be placated. So much has this become a truism that when one invites friends to a meal of any kind, gossip at once takes for granted that this is not a casual invitation, but is in effect a ‘feast’ for the person's soul, and at once someone recalls some mishap, actual or imagined, that has occurred to the person giving the ‘feast’, as confirmation of the fact that the 'kra has made its demands on its possessor.

When misadventures come to a person, though his first thought is that his soul is asking for its due, he goes to a diviner to call his soul to discover its specific wishes. A person's 'kra may ask for a feast. It may ask for a gold chain, if the possessor is a woman. It may ask for any item of apparel that has taken its fancy. It may want a bicycle, and we know of a case where a man's 'kra desired an automobile! The usual request, however, is either for a gold chain, in the instances of young women, or a 'kra tafra, a feast for the 'kra, for others. Though the soul refuses to be ignored, it can be reasoned with, and a promise can be made that payment will be given it at some future date. Another device is to give a to, a sort of partial payment towards a deferred fulfilment of its demands. All such negotiations are carried on through the diviner, for though all mature individuals know how to serve their souls, it is only the diviner who can call the soul to come into the head of an individual so that it can be questioned. If any but a specialist undertook this, he might not know how to saka na 'kra, ‘dismiss the soul’, (especially if in the process of questioning, a cup were placed on the head instead of in the hand, when insanity would ensue). This necessity for a specialist's aid is a general pattern of belief, which is even more in evidence when the manner in which a person works with his wɩnti is considered.

To call the akra, the person who comes to consult the diviner wears something of which he is extremely fond. He is seated on a 'kra bąŋgi, - a stool for the soul.1 The diviner is also seated on a stool. An egg is put into a bowl of rainwater, and someone who is assisting at the ceremony takes a new calabash and throws water all about the person whose akra is being called. If a black pot, one of the kind made by Bush-Negro women, is available, this replaces the new calabash, and such a pot may be used many times. The

diviner addresses the soul: ‘Akra Kwasi,’ he says, if the subject, for example, is a man born on Sunday, ‘Mi taki, mi dɛ bɛgi fō yɛre sąn yu dɛ habi fanodu. Tąŋgi, tąŋgi, mi dɛ bɛgi yu nąŋga saka fasi, pɔti pikin,1 a wani sabi są na bǫn yeye2 habi fanodu. - Sunday soul, I speak to you, I beg (pray) you, to hear what your desire is. Thank you, thank you, (please, please), I pray you, prostrating myself, this poor child wishes to know what the good soul has need of.’ As each word is spoken, water is sprayed from the calabash by the diviner. This is said over and over, until the akra comes into the head of its possessor. This is easily recognised by those who are watching, because when this happens, the body begins to tremble, the eyelids grow heavy, and the bowl which is held by the person in his right hand, or on his head, begins to shake from side to side. The diviner, if one is in charge,3 then begins to question the soul, and the water in the bowl, as it moves from side to side, spills if the answer is ‘yes’ to the question put to it, and does not move if the answer is ‘no’.

Let us suppose that the akra has demanded a feast. The diviner then asks it what kind of a feast it desires. It may request that the individual dine alone with it. If that is the case, the table is set for two, one place for the 'kra and one for its owner. The usual feast consists of a meal of rice, eggs, and chicken. When there is chicken or pigeon, the bones must not be eaten, and when the chicken is divided, care must be taken that the pieces are severed at the joints, so that no bone is broken. If this happens, the whole 'kra tafra is spoiled. These bones are saved and are put away, serving as ‘a kind of stop for bad’. The food served at such meal must be eaten with the hands, for no fork or spoon may touch it.4 Before the person concerned sits down to this meal, the diviner causes him to remove his clothes, and washes him with the contents of a pot containing healing herbs. For the akra, these are fragrant leaves, and perfume constitutes an important ingredient that is always added. The diviner uses a hen for the washing which he takes up by the legs and bends back the head until he can hold the animal by its head and legs,5 in this way making a sponge of the body. This is called washing away the hɛbi, that is to say, the ‘heaviness’ that oppresses a person. Should a hen that has been so used live,



illustratie
Plate XII. A compound yard.




illustratie
Plate XIII. Another view inside the same compound yard shown in Plate XII.


it is considered lucky for purposes of breeding, but if it dies, it is never eaten. After this washing, a bottle of beer is poured over the head of the person who has been bathed. This is followed by emptying the contents of a small bottle of sweet liquor and some perfume over him. If the 'kra asks for a large feast, friends are invited to come at an appointed time, but they are not told why they had been invited, or that the akra is in any way concerned. Sometimes, in addition to the meal for the akra, a trinket, such as a chain or a ring or a bracelet, may be prescribed. After such a trinket is bought, it must be immersed in a bowl containing weeds and perfume, for purification. This is called kaser, or kasiri,1 and is done secretly by the person who has called the akra.

Those who are provident, and do not wait until the soul is angered to give it recognition, may perform the ceremony called pai̯ akra, a phrase that signifies ‘to pay the soul’, but has the idiomatic meaning of making an offering for the soul. For this a black pot of the type mentioned before is employed for the ceremonial bath, and a new calabash is used to hold the offering. This consists of seven grains of nɛŋgɛre kɔndre pɛpre, seven half-cent pieces (the smallest Dutch coins); one ell of blue cotton, and sometimes red cotton as well; one bottle of sweet liquor; a few abongra (sesame) seeds, and akąnsa.2 The calabash or pot containing these ingredients is left at a cross-roads, the customary place of sacrifice for all but river and snake gods. If the akra is satisfied with what has been given it, ‘you don't find it when the akra take it.’ Therefore, if the offerings at the cross-roads are undisturbed the next day, it is a sign that what has been given is insufficient and has not met with the akra's approval. When this occurs, the person who made the sacrifice at once goes to a diviner, and the ceremony described above takes place.

The 'kra is also called in cases of illness. The person whose 'kra is to be summoned is seated. A porcelain cup of which this man or woman is fond, and the kerchief he or she likes best are brought out. The kerchief is rolled into a carrying-pad. The cup is filled with water, and an egg and a Dutch silver 10-cent piece are placed inside it. When the 'kra enters the head, and the diviner questions the soul, the answer is ‘yes’ when the water is spilled toward the questioner, and ‘no’ when it is spilled away from him. The cup and the coin must be retained and the former will be known as mi 'kra komki, ‘my soul's cup.’

We have spoken of the particular importance of inviting the souls of children to accompany their possessors to the new home when moving from one place to another. In order to do this it is necessary to go to the place where the child was born, and summon the akra from there, for the soul has a strong attachment for the place where its bearer came into the world. The invocation pro-

nounced, is, ‘Akra Amba (for a girl born on Saturday), mi dɛ kari yu fō yu no tą' na baka. - Saturday soul, I call you that you do not remain behind.’ While this is said, rainwater from a new calabash is sprinkled in front of the child's mother, who speaks the invocation, and behind her. A woman performs this ceremony for herself and for her children, but not for her husband, who must do it himself. Belief holds that this is necessary, not alone to show deference to what might be a temperamental soul, but to safeguard the akra from being detained by any ‘bad’ wɩnti that might live in the yard from which the soul's possessor is moving. When the term ‘bad wɩnti’ was spoken in this connection, reference was made to an evil spirit that possessed some tenant in the yard out of which the owners of the souls in question were moving.

Let us give a concrete instance of what happens when a soul is neglected, and an account of the experience of recovering a soul.

When C... was ten years old, her mother moved from the house in Nickerie1 where C... was born, and herself went to Paramaribo, leaving her with a maternal aunt. Shortly after her mother went away, C... went to bed with fever, and became so weak that she could hot leave her mat. The doctor diagnosed the disease as malaria, and advised that she be taken to Paramaribo, where the climate is better than at Nickerie. In Paramaribo, however, she did not recover, and had hallucinations that there were crowds of people near her bed. After a few weeks in Paramaribo, her mother, at the advice of an old woman, consulted a ‘Djuka’. The old woman brought him to their house that evening, as C... was unable to walk. He asked the mother what was wrong, but her mother did not describe her illness to him, because the test of a good healer is that he himself, when he becomes possessed, repeats the history of the case and the circumstance that brought the illness about. The mother gave this ‘Djuka’ some rum, which he drank, and he then took a large red kerchief and waved it about his head, while he spoke an invocation in the ‘Djuka’ tongue, which none of the townspeople present understood. He put the handkerchief back, and taking C... 's wrist in his hand, held it until he began to tremble. The chair under him began to rattle, ‘It went r-r-r-r-r.’ When these tremors subsided, he sat still for a long time, - the whole consultation took more than an hour. Then he told her mother that C... was very sick, for she had been brought away from her place of birth without her akra. Having diagnosed the case, he left, saying that if the mother wished to find out more, she should bring C... to his house. For this diagnosis he was given no money.
At four o'clock the next morning, ‘so we could go with the wind’, they went to see the ‘Djuka’. They brought with them half a bottle of rum, a cigar, and one guilder fifty cents. His house on the outskirts of the town was the usual ‘Djuka’ hut, with a thatched roof. He sat on a carved stool, which was covered with white clay. He drank some of the rum, and put the same red kerchief about his neck, ‘like a scarf.’ He took up a rattle in one hand, and a mat, about eight inches wide and twenty-four inches long, which he folded in half, in the other. A mirror lay before him, and he sat smoking his cigar. Then he said to C... 's mother, ‘Mɩsi, na yu pikin 'ɛ sɩki. Ɛ̨ŋ akra a bɛn dɛ libi na baka. Ma yu luku fō feti fō kɩsi hɛm baka, bikasi a weri kaba. - Missi, your child is sick. Her soul was left behind. But you must see to it quickly in order to get it back, because she is already weary.’ He
began to question the mirror. ‘Na bǫn akra? Ɛfi na ɔgri wą, hɔri hɛm baka. - Is it a good soul? (For) if it is a bad one, hold it back.’ ‘Na bǭn? - Is it a good one?’ The folded mat in his hand opened. Her soul was a good one. ‘Fō sąn ɛde yu hɔri hɛm na baka? - Why are you keeping it back?’ Then he said, ‘Lusu hɛm gi mi, bikasi na wą pɔti pikin. - Free it for me, because she is a poor child.’ He stopped the rattle and said to the mother, ‘It went away because you did not call it.’ Then he said the spirit wanted many things to appease it. The mother must get a prapi (a basin) and put into it a half-bottle of drink, - table-wine, not rum - a small bottle of molasses, (an old bottle was needed as a container for this), one ell of red cotton, one ell of blue cotton, some abongra (sesame) seeds, and a piece of white chalk. The following night the ‘Djuka’, the mother, and C... were taken to the Suriname river where it widens, a short way downstream below Paramaribo. The boatmen were her mother's friends, for in a ceremony of this kind, there must be no strangers about. The ‘Djuka’ uttered an incantation, as they rowed slowly; then the boat stopped. He scooped up some water in his hands, and threw it over the sick girl's head three times. Taking the basin, he rested it on the palm of his hands, and, holding it thus, slowly lowered his hands into the water, continuing the incantation in his own tongue. As he chanted, the basin floated softly out of his hands. ‘Don't see nobody, but don't see the prapi no more. The water take it.’
The akra of this girl also wanted a gold chain. After purchasing it, the chain was taken to the ‘Djuka’ a few days later, and left with him with another prapi which held a small bottle of perfume. When the ‘Djuka’ came again in a few days, he carried the prapi, which still contained the perfume, and, in addition, some herbs and flowers, and the chain. He took the chain from the basin, and, first with the right hand and then with the left, he circled it several times over C... 's head, finally putting it around her neck. In eight days, her fever left her, and though for another month she was still weak, she recovered and has been well since.

The mother paid ninety guilders for this cure. Had the payment not been made, the cure would not have remained effective, but if C... had not recovered, the ‘Djuka’ would have received no payment for his efforts. Indeed, this matter of payment is, to the townspeople, an indication of the good faith and ability of a diviner. We were told by a man who had had many dealings with diviners that the manner in which a good practitioner can be told from a bad one is this: ‘The bad one asks you plenty money when he begin. He make no promise but he talk big. When a man is good, he don't ask nothing, but he make man come better, and don't charge too much when he finish.’

We have observed several times that the soul makes demands on its possessor. It must be recognised, in this connection, that a person uses or wears the belongings of his soul, or consumes what food the soul is given. The distinction between what belongs to the person as an individual, and what he keeps as custodian for his akra, is nevertheless sharply made. In the first category are those things which a person may dispose of whenever he wishes, and in any way he chooses. With those things in the second category, the property of his soul, he may take no liberties; and if he does dispose of his 'kra's possessions, punishment is inflicted upon him by the real owner, his akra. We witnessed one such instance in the case

of a woman who had taken the liberty of pawning a gold chain that belonged to her akra. It was in a compound where we were collecting songs, and the season was that of the wɩnti-dances, several of which were taking place that same week. As our phonograph was recording songs sacred to the water-gods, we suddenly heard the sound of violent retching outside the cabin where we were at work, and soon a woman entered who was possessed by a wɩnti. She was obviously in great pain, and was in ugly temper, swaggering about between her spasms of retching, frowning, glaring at everyone in a hostile fashion, and threatening all who were present. As is customary, we offered her spirit a drink of beer, and she said, ‘I don't want any gifts from you. I am a strong Ɩ̨ngi wɩnti and I can have all the champagne I want from the White man's boats by capsizing your steamers.’ We were told that this retching was soon expected to bring up blood, because this woman's soul was tormenting her, and turning her friendly wɩnti-spirit into an ugly one, in punishment of the pawning of the gold chain belonging to it. She came out of her possession for a few moments, explained that she had lived in British Guiana, and added in perfect English, ‘I am not insulting you, sir. It is my 'kra troubling me.’

When situations of this kind arise, it is believed that the offended soul may force its possessor to steal in order to procure the means for redeeming the pawned article. It is, therefore, the duty of the family to help the individual, and if the family is unwilling or unable to do this, the soul causes the person to break and destroy things. When this happens, and the demands of the soul are such that the family either considers them exorbitant, or beyond any possible means at their diposal, they call a diviner to try to appease the soul, in the manner we have described. Should the soul, however, refuse to be appeased by a partial gift, an attempt is then made to discipline it by having the diviner ‘tie’ it, - that is, they will have him try to subjugate it. In order to do this, a powerful wɩnti belonging to the diviner, who in this case, is a priest of that wɩnti, is called upon to take the recalcitrant soul in hand. The ‘tying’ is generally done in the following way: The akra which is thought greedy is lured to manifest itself by setting before it all kinds of food, - rice, abongra, liquor, chicken. White thread is put about this offering of food, and when the soul is called and it goes to take the food which is there before it, the diviner quickly takes up the ends of the thread and ties them into a knot, as he pronounces the words, ‘Monday soul, I have now tied you.’ But if the soul is strong and very wrought up, it will beat the wɩntimąn, powerful as is his god, and will not allow itself to be ‘tied.’ As mentioned when discussing the means men and women have recourse to in order to insure fidelity, this process of ‘tying’ of the soul is employed for other than disciplinary action against an unruly soul, and it can also be utilised to subjugate an orderly soul to the will and machinations of another.


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