Suriname folk-lore

13. The Spirits of the Dead

a) the yɔrka as an ancestor

The fourth element in the supernatural world as it is conceived by the Paramaribo Negro is the Yɔrka,¹ or ghost. The Yɔrka, it is said, never dies, and a person's Yɔrka is good or evil according to the character of the man when he was alive. The life the Yɔrka lead is not visualised as quiescent. The good Yɔrka, when appealed to, helps the members of his family, warding off evilly disposed ghosts, working with the gods of the Earth for a good harvest, interceding in behalf of the living members of his group with deities who may be angry, counseling the family in dreams, and bringing them well-being and good fortune. If evil, a Yɔrka harasses the living, bringing illness, bad luck and death. A Yɔrka may enter the body of a member of his own family, or of a family not his own, even when not acting under the instructions of a wisimąn. And a Yɔrka may turn into an animal and haunt a cabin, or a yard, or a road.

Even though the Yɔrka can appear in many guises, no trouble is spared when a corpse is prepared for burial to dress it in such a way so that later, when the Yɔrka walks abroad, it can be identified. This consists in stopping up the nose with cotton so that when it speaks, ‘A n'e taki krįŋ, - It does not talk clean’, that is, its speech is nasal. Cotton is put into the ears and a folded white kerchief is tied about the head to hold the jaw in place. Since ghosts are known to dislike gunpowder, firecrackers are an important element in all the tapu against Yɔrka, and when there is a death, though ceremonial shooting is not permitted in the city, firecrackers are placed before the bier and lighted, in this case performing not only the ritual of honoring the dead, but above all, serving to drive away the bad Yɔrka that might cluster about the corpse. Care is also taken that the Yɔrka does not come back to claim the living for whom the person who has just died has felt affection. Thus string is used to measure each of his children, and the pieces of string are put into the coffin as substitute companions, or several knots are made in one piece of string, each marking the size of a child, or the young children are passed across the coffin three times as a gesture of separation. The man's most ultimate friend also addresses the deceased as he lies in his coffin, telling the dead man that they had

1 Yoroka is a Carib Indian word (Encyc., p. 393).

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been friends, but now their friendship is at an end, for the dead must associate with the dead and the living with the living.¹

For the good Yorka the wake serves to entertain the recent dead, as well as the spirits of those other dead that may care to come. There is propitiation of these good Yɔrka, with offerings of food and dancing at the opening of wɩnti dances; there are offerings of food, and the lighting of a lamp for them when the year draws to a close, or at the anniversary of the death of those who have died not long before; and, finally, the Yɔrka eat of the first crops, especially of staples such as rice. ‘When you plant rice, the first rice you must not eat. Then you boil some. Then you throw (it) away on the ground. If you can afford it, you give a dance. I saw when this was not done. There was no second crop from that field.’ When rice offered the Yɔrka is cooked, neither salt nor pepper is put in, for the dead must not eat salt.

This offering is given for the Earth Mother as well as for the ancestors, for both of these must eat of first fruits if the fields are to prosper. Nor is this the only instance where Earth and Ancestors are associated in ritual. For example, one dance for the Earth² is called bąnya, and that for the Ancestors is termed baka-futu-bąnya = back-foot bąnya. For the baka-futu-bąnya, food is given the ancestors before the dance takes place. ‘Yu teki ɛn yu bɔri alei̯si nąŋga foru di no hab' sotu, no hab' pɛpre. Dą' yu trowe lɔntu 'a dyari.³ Dąn yu teki 'afu, pɔt na ɩni wą' baki. Ɛfi yu wani, yu pɔti wą pikinso sopi. Dą' yu saka a wą presi, pɛ suma n'e si. Dą' yu gi dąnsi. Ɛf' suma habi Yɔrka wɩnti, a wer' wei̯ti nąŋga kakumbɛ 'ąŋgisa. - You take and you cook rice and chicken, which has neither salt nor pepper. Then you throw some away about the yard. Then you put half in a basin. If you like, you add a little rum. Then you put it down somewhere, where no one sees it. Then you give a dance. If someone has Yɔrka wɩnti, he is dressed in white, and he wears the kerchief of the dead.’⁴

The Yɔrka are also given food when they are called upon to help a person, that is, when the lukumąn or the wisimąn goes to the cemetery and calls the Yɔrka to find out what food and other offerings it wishes for help on a special venture on which a member of

1 Among the Saramacca tribe of Bush-Negroes, at one funeral we witnessed, the dead man was separated from his family, from the Kromanti group, and from his village.

2 This is actually a social dance which Earth deities and ancestors are felt to enjoy. The Martinique cycle of dances in Haiti resembles the Suriname bᾳnya.

3 At this point the informant interpolated the explanation that if no people are about, the food is thrown down anywhere at all, but if it is a yard where other people live, then the food is thrown where no one sees it.

4 This means that the kerchief is tied so that it goes over the head and under the chin, in the manner in which a white kerchief is put about the head of the corpse to make it easy to identify a ghost as such.

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the family is embarking. The usual offerings in such a case are rum and white rice grown in the colony, and cooked without salt. ‘Mi no sabi sąn ɛde, ma noit' i bɛn pɔti sotu te i bɔru nąnyam gi Yɔrka. - I do not know why, but you never put salt in the food you cook to give a Yorka.’¹

1 This idea that the dead must not be ‘fed’ salt in offerings to them is prevalent in many Negro cultures of West Africa and the New World. To our knowledge, Haiti is one of the New World exceptions.

b) the yɔrka as an enemy ghost

The Yɔrka, then, as a friendly ancestor, is worshipped at harvest-time, at the close of the year, at wakes, at the opening of wɩnti-dances, and on special occasions when its services are sought in behalf of a particular enterprise, or for special intervention with the gods, as during childbirth, or in times of drought. At the same time, it should be made clear that in the daily life of the individual, such awareness of the existence and importance of the Yɔrka which a person may have is not of the good Yɔrka but of those who do evil. The association of the ghost with wisi, and the danger from those ghosts who, because not satisfied with the rites offered them, have become evilly intentioned, is sufficient to explain this attitude. Thus it is that so many of the Yɔrka stories, - and in these as a cycle, the bad Yɔrka is chiefly referred to - bring out the point of the danger of being abroad alone at night. When going home late from wɩnti-dances, we were led away from certain thoroughfares, and went a roundabout way to avoid a corner, or a tree, or a house, because these were known to be ‘bad’ places, - that is to say, they were haunted. At least two persons accompanied us home, so that, in returning to their own homes, they would not have to walk the streets alone. The hours that are dangerous are midday, from 5:30 to 6:30 in the evening, and from 12:30 to 1:30 at night.

Many tales of such encounters are current. A few months before our first stay in the colony, a taxi-driver, a friend of the teller of this tale, was in his cab at eleven o'clock at night near a motion-picture house, when two young women ‘dressed in pink, like for church’ asked him to drive them home. They made a price with him of one guilder fifty cents, and indicated a road leading past the cemetery as the one that led to their house. When he had passed the cemetery, he turned to them to get the exact directions, but there was no one in the car. The man was sick with fever for months after. ‘He went to the hospital, but they couldn't do anything for him. A wisimąn cured him. He had no “luck” with him, because, if he had a tapu, the Yɔrka couldn't come in his car.’ In another case, a hunter on his way to the bush before dawn met, on several mornings, a tall White man dressed in white with silver buttons on his coat.

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One morning this man stood on the road with arms outstretched blocking the hunter's way. The hunter turned back and loaded his gun with a special bullet, and though his wife pleaded with him not to go out that day, he went back. The man was still there, standing as before, arms outstretched. The hunter shot at the man, but took fright, and ran home. Later, when it grew light, he went once more to see what was there, and he found a large white cat lying in the road. ‘It was the bad spirit of a White man. Everybody went to look at the cat. It was big, like a dog. A policeman made a black man throw it in the river. The man didn't get sick because he had a good tapu, but he was afraid.’

The Yɔrka who enters the body of a living person does not kill outright. ‘Na Yɔrka, a no kąn kiri yu wąn-trɔ̨n. A kiri yu pikin a pikin, ma fɔs' a shwax yu. - The Yɔrka cannot kill you all at once. It kills little by little, but first it weakens you.’ One man told of an instance of a Yɔrka that had entered a man's body. When the Yɔrka was in him, he spoke like a woman, for the ghost was that of a woman. This same man told of having heard the voice of a Yɔrka in a girl. It was a male ghost, who kept saying, ‘I'm going to kill her. There's nothing you can do.’ This girl, however, did not die because a wɩntimąn exorcised the Yɔrka. This was done by beating the girl as she was given a cleansing bath at the cross-roads. One such attempt at a cure, however, ended disastrously, according to this man, for it was interrupted by a police officer who arrested the entire party, and the girl died.

When a Yɔrka has entered a person and must be exorcised, the person who is possessed is seated on a bench and a white sheet is put over him. A drum begins to play, - often in town it must be an improvisation of a real drum. The bonu, or wintimąn, who does the exorcising, sings

Sabana wer' wei̯ti,
Yu n'e sɑ sidǫ dɛ,
'A Yɔrka sidǫ dɛ,
'A Yɔrka sidǫ dɛ.

The cemetery is clothed in white,

You shall not sit down there,

The Yɔrka sits there,

The Yɔrka sits there.

This is repeated until the possessed person, hidden by the white sheet, begins to tremble. The man who does the exorcising addresses the spirit, and orders it to leave. The Yɔrka answers nasally, ‘No, mi n'e gowɛ! Mi basi pai̯ mi. Ɛf' yu wani mi gowɛ, dą' yu pai̯ mi baka. - No, I will not go away! My master has paid me. If you want me to go away, you must pay me again.’ The one who is in charge of

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the ceremony asks ‘Sąn yu bas' pai̯ yu? - What did your master pay you?’ ‘Fo kɔpro sɛ̨nsi, nąŋga sɛbi-ai̯ nɛ̨ŋgɛre-kɔndre pɛpre, nąŋga dri pis' krɛti. Dąn yu mu tyari go pɔti na sabana. Ɛfi yu no pɔti 'a sabana, mi n'e gowɛ. Mi broko yu nɛki. - Four copper cents, and seven grains of African pepper, with three pieces of krɛti(?). Then you must take them and put them in the cemetery. If you don't put them in the cemetery, I won't go away. I will break your neck.’ The one exorcising sings

A sabana den teki yu,
A sabana yu sɑ go baka,
Tide a kaba fō yu.

From the graveyard they took you,

To the graveyard you will return,

Today you are through.

He then comes forward with a cord of twisted white cotton, seizes by the hair the person who is being treated, and ties the cord around it. This symbolizes tying the Yɔrka. After several songs such as we have recorded¹ are sung, he loosens the hair, and puts the cord quickly into a bottle. ‘Na Yɔrka a-i kɔ̨ na ɩni na tɛtei̯. - The Yɔrka comes into the cord.’ He then corks up the bottle. ‘Na batra kɔ̨m hɛbi lei̯ki fa a bɛn dɛ libi suma na ɩni. - The bottle becomes heavy, as though there were a human being inside it.’ This bottle is carried to the river, and thrown in. If someone were to take up the bottle and open it, the Yɔrka would at once enter into that person, and possess him.

Not all possession by the Yɔrka is dangerous, for there are friendly ancestral Yɔrka who on occasion seek out a descendant and enter his body to demand offerings and dancing. This occurs at the baka-futu-bąnya dances at the end of the year, when those so possessed dress in white, tie a kerchief about their faces, and stop up their ears and nostrils with cotton, and dance. This dress is necessary because while the Yɔrka possess them, they cease to be themselves, and become the Yɔrka. Each family generally has some member to whom an important ancestor so manifests himself.

1 Songs No. 228-231.