Suriname folk-lore

10. Divination

The references we have made to divining must already have suggested that divination plays an important part in the life of the Suriname town Negroes. Indeed, so impressed are the Paramaribo Negroes themselves with this, that those who have knowledge of the life of the Saramacca tribe of Bush-Negroes make the point that there is greater recourse to divination in the city than in the bush. It was claimed that among the Saramacca people there are only a few important diviners to be found, - one at the village of

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Lɔmbe, a short distance south of the rail-head, and several others in the distant village of Dahome, on the far upper river - whereas in Paramaribo alone, there are several times as many, and they are the more skilled. While to our own knowledge of life in the Suriname bush this statement is not borne out by actual fact, the significance of such an assertion as demonstrating the place the Suriname town Negroes give their own diviners, - despite the superiority ordinarily acceded the Bush-Negroes in dealing with the supernatural, - is of the first order.

Diviners are called lukumąn, ‘those who look’. Loosely, however, all those who deal with the supernatural, whether as diviners or as workers of evil magic, or as providers of magic which protects, as well as those who exorcise evil spirits such as ghosts, and those who pacify personal spirits which have been aroused, are called Djuka. Another name, with the same general implication, is bonu¹, a third obiamąn. Conversationally, a practitioner of any one of the above categories is also referred to as a wɩntimąn, or a wisimąn. When, however, an individual informant is questioned closely, he carefully differentiates these categories. A lukumąn, he explans, is a diviner who also cures souls. A wɩntimąn is one who deals with the spirits called wɩnti, the gods, and cures all illnesses sent by these spirits. A wisimąn is a practitioner of black magic, and as such can if he chooses also cure black magic. The maker of protective charms, if yet finer differentiation is sought, is the obiamąn, one who deals in obia², and the obiamąn will also at times be designated as the one who cures wisi, evil magic. It must be indicated, nevertheless, that in reality this separation of function is most frequently only theoretical, for it is seldom that a man in any one of the categories named is not competent as well in at least one other, and some are skilled in all.

While discussing divination and those who divine, it is also necessary to name the Indian piai̯mąn, and the kartamąn, - literally ‘card-man,’ - the latter of whom may be White or Javanese or Hindu as well as Negro. In order to understand why the Negro values the Indian diviner, we must glance at his attitude toward the ranking of Indian, Negro, and White supernatural powers. The logic with which he approaches this problem is that for himself his

1 Bonu has, as its derivation, the Fɔ̨ term gbo, a Dahomean word applied to magical charms.

2 According to the suggestion of Professor D. Westermann, the word obia may be derived from the Bia river, a mythologically important river of the Gold Coast, conceived by the Twi-speaking peoples as a brother of Tano, the god of all rivers (cf. Cardinall, I, pp. 48-50). The prefix ‘o’ denotes the singular in Twi. Another possible derivation may be from the Efik word 'Mbiam (cf. Talbot, I, pp. 46ff.), while Sir H.H. Johnstone states ‘Obia seems to be a variant or a corruption of an Efik or Ibo word from the northeast or east of the Niger delta, which simply means “Doctor”.’ Recently Williams (II) has advanced the theory that the word is to be derived from the Twi obayifo.

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own magic, - Negro magic - is the strongest, but that, in certain situations, the magic of the Indian takes precedence over his own, because the Indians, as the autochthonous inhabitants of the land, have the greatest control over the spirits of earth and water. Of White man's magic, the reading of the future by means of cards has some vogue, and anyone, whether White, Hindu, or Javanese, who can tell fortunes with cards, is said to use the White man's method of divining.

We have already described two variants of one method of divination as practised by the lukumąn. In one of these, when questioning the soul, the answers are given by the tilting of a cup containing water and an egg which rests on the head of the person whose soul is being called, and in the other the tilting of a cup or bowl, also containing water and an egg, held in the right hand. In both these instances, the diviner uses a folded mat, but sometimes the mat alone is employed. A lukumąn may also look into a mirror when he reads the future, or he may watch the surface of a basin of water which stands before him, and when the water becomes troubled the spirit is said to have entered it, and the questioning proceeds as it does when the cup placed on the head or held in the hand begins to shake. In all those instances where a mat or its equivalent, a fan, or water in a basin, is used, the answers can only be ‘yes’, or ‘no’. Divining, however, may be done by means of calling upon a wɩnti to enter into the body of either the diviner or of the person who came to consult him, and causing this wɩnti to speak. Albinos, and those exhibiting strains of albinism, who are called bɔnkɔru,¹ are particularly gifted diviners for they are all said to have strong wɩnti, and consequently important remedies.² If the wɩnti is one of African or Indian origin, it is said to ‘speak tongues’, and only the wɩntimąn, - the priest or priestess - is able to interpret what is said by the spirit. Certain generalised methods of divination may be mentioned here in passing, which, though they do not need a specialist to perform, may also be employed by a specialist. Thus, a fowl which is being sacrificed either to an individual's akra or to a wɩnti, is opened and its intestines or testicles are examined to see whether they are white or discolored. If they are white, the omen is one of good luck, while if they are not, the prediction is bad luck. This same test is also used as an ordeal to establish the innocence of a woman who disclaims guilt in adultery. Again, those who are

1 Among the Saramacca people albinos are called Tonɛ people, that is, they belong to the river gods. In Dahomey such people are said to be sacred to Lisa, god of the sun. According to Proyart, p. 197, albinos were sacred in Loango.

2 An informant told of one such remedy that had restored his own health, which consisted of herbs gathered by his mother in the bush, while her moves to pluck now one, now another, were directed by the wɩnti of the diviner who, in his own home in the city, sat in a state of possession, shaking a rattle and chanting.

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possessed of Ɩ̨ngi wɩnti (Indian spirits), especially the water-Indian spirits, are thought to have the gift of divination, even when they are not specialists in the sense that the lukumąn is a specialist. Certain individuals, as well, at whose birth abnormal phenomena were manifest, such as a caul, or a navel cord entwined about the neck, are thought to have special aptitudes for divination and magical practice. Such persons are encouraged to go through specialized training with an established diviner to fit themselves for this profession.

Divination as practised by the specialist, then, is a matter of training. The knowledge of the technique passes, in the main, from a man to his brother until, the generation exhausted, it is given to one of their sisters' sons. The one chosen is either selected because he is specially intelligent, or because by divination, or in a dream, he is discovered to have special aptitude for the profession. If a father cares, however, he may teach his own son his craft. In the case of women, the knowledge is passed on to sisters, or one of a woman's own daughters or sons; or if a woman has no children, then to the children of a sister. The rule is that the technique of a man is taught to a man, and that of a woman to a woman. It must be made clear that we found no sex division in the types of divination employed by diviners of the two sexes. General practice is to choose a male lukumąn for illnesses of the soul, but for ills caused by the wɩnti, a man or woman practitioner may be selected. There is a way of becoming a lukumąn other than by inheriting the knowledge and this occurs when an African kɔmfo¹ decides to take possession of a man or a woman who has been chosen by him as his fitting medium. It is not necessary that this kɔmfo-spirit should have manifested itself actively to the family before. In our ensuing discussion of wɩnti, we shall see how certain important spirits are sent to reside in trees and stones by those who die without successors, or whose successors are unwilling to continue the worship of the African gods. It may be that one such spirit who, while remaining quiescent, had yet continued to identify himself with the family, might cause a man or woman to go into a state of possession, and reveal the answers to questions sought of the supernatural. Such a kɔmfo needs, to be sure, to prove himself, but once his reputation for curing and prophesying² is established, he is then said to ‘wroko furu mɔni, - earn much money’ for his possessor.

Let us illustrate one method of divination by describing the visit paid by a woman to a lukumąn.

1 Kɔmfo is the Ashanti-Fanti word for priest.

2 An especially valued instrument is called ‘the kɔmfo telephone,’ whose ‘strong name’ is Kausi. It is a stick, magically treated, which if concealed in a room, records all that is spoken, and if it is but sprayed with rum and made to hear the proper formula, need only to have one end of it placed against the ear to repeat what it had recorded.

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She was ill of a fever that ‘no White doctor could cure,’ since it was a fever sent by a spirit. She went to a lukumąn who had helped the family before, who lived on the outskirts of the city in a house which more nearly resembled those of the Bush-Negroes than the ordinary town houses, in keeping with his title of ‘Djuka’. She said to him, ‘Masra, mi kɔ̨ a yu fō wą fąnodu. - Master, I come to you because of my need.’ He asked what was the matter, and she answered that she was not well. The lukumąn sat down on a carved stool, the traceries on which were painted over with white chalk. On the table before him was a mirror. In one hand he held a rattle, and in the other a folded mat. He drank some liquor, and to the accompaniment of the rattle, spoke an invocation ‘in Djuka’. This was pronounced sometimes very fast, sometimes slowly, ‘but you don't understand’. Then he took up the mat, and sat looking in the mirror, shaking the rattle constantly. After a while, his eyes fixed on the mirror, he began to talk, this time in taki-taki, ‘because it's my spirit he talk to.’
He inquired if the spirit troubling her was bad, or if it was good. He asked if she had many friends? Many enemies? Were they men? Women? Was she going to get money? Was she going to get well soon? When the mat opened, the answer was ‘yes’, and when it remained closed the answer was ‘no’. Then the spirit was questioned about what it wanted. Was it beer? Was it money? Was it a chain? Was it a ring? If so, was this to be gold? Or silver? Sometimes a spirit wishes food. Whatever it is, the lukumąn tells the day on which the patient is to bring the article or series of articles; and at what particular time of the day the special food the spirit has asked for is to be eaten. After the inquirer had heard the requests of the spirit which was troubling her, she came back the next day with a prapi (a basin) in which perfume had been poured, - it might have been beer if the spirit had asked for this instead - and left it with the lukumąn, who added rainwater and some herbs from the bush. That night the woman called for the prapi. It was important that no one who met her should know what she was carrying. The spirit troubling her proved to be a good one, but if it had been a bad spirit, everything in that basin would have had a foul odor. ‘The stink-water washes the bad spirit away.’ She washed with the contents of the prapi once a day, - the washing time for curing is either at dawn, at noon, or at night. The time was given her by the lukumąn. In her own case, because her akra was weak, she washed for eight days, but in some instances only three days of washing are required. The same water was used during the entire period, and, as is ordinarily done, was kept hidden under a bed or in some corner of the house. During this time no other water was used by the patient for washing, nor was anyone outside the immediate family circle allowed to know what was in the basin. If done during the day, the washing ceremony was performed in the house, to insure privacy. There was, of course, but little water, so that a cupful or even less was all that was available for a day's washing. If, while going through these ceremonial ablutions, the patient had been surprised by a stranger, and there had been no time to hide the basin, then the stranger would have been told that she was doing it for the ‘spirit’, but she would neither have named the spirit, nor specified whether it was a good or a bad one. Had evil-smelling water been provided for the patient to wash in, and had some stranger coming in remarked about a bad odor in the house, such a remark would have been dismissed with a joke. ‘You smell something, true, true? I don't know what it can be.’

An illness may be caused by violating a trefu. Perhaps it is an unconscions violation, arising out of the fact that a man's mother had never told him the name of his true father, and consequently he had been observing food taboos which were not his own and had been neglecting to observe those which were his,

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since, as we have seen, these personal food taboos are inherited from the father. The lukumąn, is consulted, and he both diagnoses the cause of the illness, and names the foods to be avoided. A person's illnesses or difficulties which bring him to the diviner may arise out of a violation of the injunctions of some deity. He may have urinated in that portion of the yard that is identified as the habitat of the Grɔ̨ Mama, - Earth Mother - of that particular yard. Or a person may come to the lukumąn because he has found a bundle containing porcupine-quills under his door-step, or one of red and blue cotton, or a broken calabash with evil-smelling weeds, soiled cloth and thorny bits of wood in it, and these, he knows, bode him no good. A man consults the lukumąn to discover why his rice-crop does not prosper, or he comes to find out who is responsible for a recent accidental death in his family that is suspected to have been brought about by other than natural causes. In the last instance, he waits until after the eighth-day wake has been celebrated, and then goes to the lukumąn to have him divine the person who had invoked black magic to cause the death of his relative. Or it may be such an incident as was related to us, where a Yɔrka, - a ghost - has manifested itself, and, through this manifestation, presages trouble.

This incident concerns a man who was sitting one night (about a week before he told us of the occurrence), drinking beer with some friends.

He left the table for a few moments, and when he returned, his friends said they had seen a white hand reach out for his glass. When he looked, the glass was not there. He had laughed about it, but had told his mother.¹ His mother insisted that he go with her to the lukumąn, but he refused. She, therefore, took a piece of his underwear, and went herself. ‘The lukumąn, who never saw her before, or me, told her everything which was true. He said I had two good friends. One of them is not home now, - that's A... - (and he named a man whom we knew to be away at the time). He told her I had an enemy who came to the house sometimes. But he could not give his name. Last time when he looked for someone else, and gave the name of the enemy, he got a jail-sentence, because the family made too much trouble.’ The man was given a bath of perfume, with liquor and sweet-smelling weeds in it, in which there were also four s'rɩŋ (thirty-two cents, Dutch). He was also given a liquid in a bottle to take internally as a prophylaxis against this ghost that his enemy had had sent to him through a practitioner of black magic. The potency of the liquid lies in the fact that it is a tapu, a preventive, against such black magic. Should the hand manifest itself again, unseen while he is drinking, the glass will break or fall from his hands so that none of the liquid might touch his lips.

1 The informant's comment at this point carries some significance in terms of acculturation: ‘All my mother does is go to church. She don't want me to go to wɩnti-dances, even to look. But if anything happens, she runs to a lukumąn.’