Laura Watson Benedict

Part One Continued:

Signs of death. The beating of the pulse at the wrist and the pulsations that are to be felt "on top of the head" are signs of  the presence of the gimokud takawanan in the living body. When a Bagobo is mortally sick and death is imminent, an attendant  holds the wrist of the patient, with the index and the middle fingers at the dorsal side, and the thumb on the pulse, in order to note whether the gimokud is still there. When the pulse ceases to throb, the gimokud is ready to take leave of the body, but, since it cannot find an exit through the wrist or the finger-tips, it passes up to the head of the dying man and goes out through that point  in the crown where a pulsation is apparent (probably the anterior fontanelle). Somebody lays fingers or palm of the hand on top of the head to ascertain the exact moment when gimokud takes its flight. ^^^ The cessation of heart-beat, laginaiva^ is often noted also.
The signs of death are therefore three : {a) The stilling of the pulse; (6) The cessation of throbbing on the skullcap; (c) The stopping of heartbeat.

Sometimes they make efforts to detain the takawanan in the body: they seize and shake the arms of the dying man; they grasp his head and make it wag to and fro, in the hope of checking the spirit's departure; but as the sure signs of death become apparent they cease all efforts to hold the gimokud.

Summons to the living. Between the time of death and

105 The Moro say that the soul enters the body through the top of the skull, and makes its exit by the same hole at death. Cf. C. H, Forbes-Lindsays The Philippines under Spanish and American rules, pp. 502 — 505. 1906. Perhaps the Bagobo have borbowed the idea.


burial it is still possible for the right-hand soul to communicate with the living, and this it does on a vast scale. Immediately after leaving the body, it is customary for the spirit to give notice of its last journey, and at the same time try to secure a companion, by visiting in the form of an insect every house in the world. The entire series of visits is supposed to be made during the short period — say, from twenty-four to thirty-six hours — that elapses between death and burial. ^^^ The insect enters a house and sings in a small voice that is like the chirp of a cricket, or the soft tinkling of a little bell called korimg-korung. Nobody can see the gimokud, but at night when "the bug with the sweet voice chirps on the wall" one knows that somebody is dead.
Then the person listening must say: "Who are you? my brother? my sister?" If the singing stops immediately, it is a sign that a near relative is dead, ^but if the sound keeps on it indicates that some other family has been bereaved.

Sometimes the chirping is interpreted as a summons to some friend or relative to follow the dead one, who asks for a fellow traveler to the lower world. Fearful of sickness and death coming upon him, the listener quickly replies: "You can come here no more because you are now going to the Great City. You have still a little love {diluk ginmva) for me; do not bring me sickness." This formula is usually potent to banish the importunate spirit. It is said that when a gimokud is very insistent for a companion, a friend may die within a day or two, an example quoted being that of Adela, the Bagobo wife of a Yisayan. Of her, they narrate that she caused a woman friend to die one or two days after herself, because she feared to journey alone to the lower world.

This form of spiritual manipulation is considered quite proper for a timid person or for a youth, but there is a feeling among the Bagobo that a gimokud who is strong and brave will not wait around for a friend to die, but will start alone for the Great City. A boy of fourteen, nephew of Adela, confided to me his fears of the gruesome journey.
'*If a gimokud is not brave, he waits for a companion to die. I am afraid to go alone to the Great City. When I am dead, my spirit will wait near

^"^ The body of a datu may be kept muck longer, but I failed to ascertain the process
of embalming that would be used.


my friend, Karlos, and will say to his spirit: 'I want you to go with me to the One City.' Then my friend will get a sickness and die, and I shall have a companion; but if he does not want to go with me, I do not force him, but I ask other friends — many."

After the burial, the ghost-bug can sing no more, for the spirit has started for Gimokudan, and can never again disturb the living by chirping at night. The gimokud is now known also as Kayung.

A rain lasting several days, or even a week, is a phenomenon very significant when it occurs immediately after the death of a Bagobo, for it is caused by the tears of the dead gimokud, who is lingering about, waiting for a friend to accompany him. A magical rite must then be performed to still the lamentations of the spirit.
Suppose that showers fall incessantly after the death of a boy.
Forthwith, his father places a few areca-nuts and betel-leaves, with perhaps a little tobacco, on the ground as an offering to the gimokud, and cajoles him with words like these: "Do not cry any more, for you know you do not love your father; you would rather go to the Great City." The spell is efficacious; the rain ceases; the gimokud stops its weeping and starts alone on the last journey.
This case does not appear to be reconcilable with the belief that the soul leaves the earth for Gimokudan immediately after the funeral, for in the tropics a body cannot be kept for several days unless embalmed, while the metaphorical showers may last for a week. A Malay, however, does not think in exact dialectic, and perhaps would not be conscious of the contradiction.

Onong or travel outfit for the soul. The time required for the journey from earth down to the land of the dead, called Kilut, is variously estimated at from two days to one week. A traveling outfit, technically known as onong^ is prepared by the friends of the deceased so that he may lack for nothing on the road. The onong includes those articles which are in constant use by the living — betel-box and lime-case, areca-nuts, buyo-leaf, tobacco (for a man), boiled rice, and other necessaries — all of which are placed in carrying-bag or basket and buried with the body.

In common with the animistic conceptions of many another primitive tribe, the belief is held by the Bagobo that it is the spiritual substratum or essence of the rice, the buyo or the tobacco, that the gimokud abstracts and enjoys, while the material element is left in the grave with the corpse. This spiritual substance is


regarded as the gimokud of the object, for, as stated in a later section, every manufactured thing has its own soul : there is a gimokud of the betel-box, a gimokud of the lime-case, a gimokud of the carrying bag, and all these go down to Kilut with the human gimokud. Only what is buried with a person can go with him to the home of the dead, although it is thought that other of his possessions may later reach him, after the material parts have been worn out and thus have lost their gimokud.

The one country of the dead. The place of the dead is variously called Kilut, Gimokudan, ^^' the Great Country {to Dakul Banud ^^^), the One Country {to Sehad Banuci), It lies directly below the earth, which, in the form of a flat disc or circle, rests upon it. The soul is conceived to go from the grave straight down through the earth to reach the lower world. In talking of such matters, a Bagobo will say that his kayung, or his gimokud "goes into the ground" when he dies.

On reaching Gimokudan, it is necessary to pass, first, through the City of the Black River {Banuci ha Metum Waig ^^^), which has also the name of Alamiawan. Here, under the direction of Mebuyan, *^^ chief priestess of the place, the soul undergoes a ceremonial lustration in the dark waters of the river, a bathing of head and joints. This process stands for naturalization in the world of spirits, and serves also to infuse a feeling of restfulness and content into the newly arrived gimokud and to dispel any lingering desire that it may have to return to earth. Tailing this rite, the spirit might slip away, go back to the world and reanimate the body. The name given to this ceremonial bathing is pamalugu — the same term that is applied to that important function at the Ginum festival when water, applied with a bunch of plant charms, is poured over the head of the candidate. While it would be

^*" Gimokud^ "souls or spirits**; -an, "place of, place where." The particle -^w, used as a Dominal suffix, has several meanings; sometimes it is a plural ending, sebad pamarang; dua <pamarangan\ "one ear-plug, two ear-plugs;" sehad kalati^ dua kalatidn \ "one pearl disc, two pearl discs." Again, in many cases, this particle is locative, as in Gimokudan; and I wish to correct the footnote made by me, in the story of "Lumabat and Mebuyan," Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, p. 20, which gives to this particle a plural force in the word gimokuda7i.

108 rjy^^ "the;" dakul f "big, great;" hanudy a term variously applied to a town, a country, or the world itself, as well as to the place of the dead.

**** Ka, particle, "of;" metum, "black or dark-colored;" waig, "water."

^**>For the story of Mebuyan, see Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 2&, pp. 20—21. 1913.


going too far to assume that the Ginum rite is in any way typical of the final bathing in the Black River, it is fair to say that the two rites are closely analogous.

The country through which the dark river runs is said to be a good place to stay in, for the cocoanut trees grow in abundance and the areca palms are loaded with nuts; yet after the close of the lustration, the spirits pass on ^^^ to join the rest of the dead in Gimokudan proper, except the little children, who during their period of helplessness remain under the care of Mebuyan.

Manner of existence in Gimokudan, No radical change in manner of life is conceived to be incident upon the shift of the soul to a new country. The spirit goes on with the same occupations that fill the time of the Bagobo during life, and everything that is used on the earth may be obtained down there. Whatever a spirit lacks in his traveling outfit (onong) that he brought with him, he can buy down there from the supplies laid in abundance before him. He may buy a jacket or a spear or a cock; since any manufactured article that wears out, or any animal that dies, forthwith gives up its immaterial gimokud, which then passes down to supply the needs of the spirits in the Great City — a mythical situation quite in accordance with the common primitive concepts touching the souls of animals and of inanimate objects.

The same sun that shines on us by day travels around under the earth, and illuminates the world of the dead while we are in darkness, so that our day is synchronous with night in Kilut, and our night, with their day. It is during their period of darkness that all the dead are in action: the gimokud — weak, attenuated, shadowy, as they are conceived to be — work and dance and play and eat in the customary Bagobo manner; they sow and harvest rice; they dig camotes and cut sugar cane. The rice of Kilut is of immaculate whiteness, and each grain as big as a kernel of corn; the camotes are the size of a great round pot, and every stick of sugar cane is as large as the trunk of a cocoanut-palm. All night long, even until dawn, this glad existence continues.

At the rising of the sun, or just before sunrise, all of these

^ ^ ^ I have not yet found mention among the Bagobo of the belief held by many pagan peninsular Malays, that there is a bridge leading into heaven, and that all souls must cross this bridge, the good alone succeeding in maknig the passage. Martin derives this tradition from an Iranian source. Cf. op. cit., pp. 951 — 952.


activities come to a halt. Every gimokud plucks one of the broad leaves of a plant called haguidn^ and twists it into a vessel suggesting the form of a boat, of a like pattern to the ceremonial dishes of hemp-leaf in use at Bagobo festivals, and called by the same name, Mnudok. Each one of the gimokud seats himself upon his individual leaf-vessel, and there sits, waiting, until the hot rays of the sun cause him to dissolve, leaving the leaf-vessel full of water. Not until our day begins, and darkness spreads over the land of the dead, does the life of the ghosts swing back into action; but as soon as the sun has passed up above the earth every gimokud resumes his personality, and takes up his work or his dance or
his feasting, apparently as if no break had occurred. Then, again, the next morning, he makes a new leaf-vessel for himself from a fresh leaf (the old one having withered dry), sits down on it, and once more melts away under the sun's heat. This conception of a periodically interrupted existence would seem to imply that during twelve hours out of the twenty-four Kilut is empty of inhabitants, but it is questionable whether the Bagobo has ever made that generalization.

Fresh accretions are being added by individuals, from time to time, to the myths concerning the legendary home of the dead, though always along those lines that accepted tradition has drawn out. Dreams of the One Country, as well as phantasies incident to sickness and delirium, reveal fresh features that are deftly incorporated with the old. "My uncle," said a young girl, Igula, "was very sick, and he went down to Gimokudan. A man there asked him to stay, but he did not like to stay; he wanted to come back to earth. They have cinnamon down there — much cinnamon — and the streets are made of good boards; there is plenty of white stone too. My uncle told us about it when he came back.''

Topography of the one country. The subdivisions of Gimokudan are correlated, first, with age, and second, with the manner of death. The primary grouping consists in a segregation of young children from adults. A part of the country through which the Black River runs is set apart specially for nursing infants. As narrated in an ancient tale, one of Lumabat's sisters descended into the lower world, took the name of Mebuyan, and became chief of a special section of Gimokudan, which is named for her, Banud Mebuyan, Little children who die when they are still being nourished at their mothers' breasts (a long period with


Bagobo children '^^) go at once to Mebuyan/^^ who welcomes them and gives milk to all; for not merely her breasts, but her arms and her whole body, are plentifully supplied with milk glands.
Under her protection, the babies remain until they cease to be parasites and can shift for themselves, when they are sent to join their own families in the main banua of Grimokudan.

A special region, called Kag-hunoan^^^^ is reserved for those who are slain by sword or spear, and it is said to be situated at some distance from the other divisions of the country of the dead.
In Kag-bunoan there are everywhere suggestions of blood, or of death by violence; for example, all the plants are of a blood-red color, and the spiritual bodies of the inhabitants retain the scars of their wounds. All occupations, however, go on just as in the other parts of Gimokudan.

The Great Country, that is to say, Dakul Banua proper, forms the most extensive section of Grimokudan, since it is intended for all people, good and bad, who die from disease, or from sickness in any form. Hither, too, come trooping all the children who are old enough to leave the fostering care of Mebuyan. Pale in color, or pure white, are all the plants and trees here.

^ ^ * A Bagobo mother does not wean her child, but suckles it as long as it wants to come to her, even when it grows old enough to run about. There comes a day when the child, intent on play, forgets to run to the mother's breast for food. In such case, she does not call her child, but by and by gives it a little rice, and thus the change is gently accomplished.

^^^ Mebuyan's position ia the spirit world suggests the worship of the "Great Mothers" in northern India. See W. Crooke: The popular religion and folk-lore of northern India, vol. 1, pp. Ill-— 117. 1896. Cf, "Bagobo myths." Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, pp. 20—21. 1913.

^ ^ * From buno, "to thrust, to spear."

The concept that different colors characterize different localities in the land of the dead appears in the north of the Philippines, and it is found among the pagan tribes of Malaysia. In the "Relation of the Filipinas Islands," 1640, supposed to have been written by Fr. Diego de Bobadilla, occurs the following passage, referring, apparently, to both Tagal and Visayan groups: "They believed that when the soul left the body, it went to an island, where the trees, birds, waters, and all other things were black; that it passed thence to another island, where all things were of different colors; and that finally it arrived at one where everything was white." Blair and Robertson, vol. 29, p. 283. 1905.
Of the Mintera, Professor Martin writes as follows, quoting from Logan: "Als Gegensatz zum Himmel treffen wir bei den Mintera auf die Vorstellung einer *Roten Erde' (Tanah Merah), d.h. auf ein verlassenes und elend^s Land, in das die Seelen derjenigen Menschen eingehen, die eines blutigen Todes gestorben sind." Op. cit., p. 953 (taken from J. R. Logan: "The Superstitions of the Miutira." Journal of the Indian Archipelago and Eastern Asia, voL 1, p. 326. 1847).


Idea of retribution. As a factor in the manner of life after death, the concept of retribution for behavior on earth is practically non-existent. ^^^ Only one myth has come under my observation that hints at the possibility of a painful aftermath being the punishment for an evil life. This was an episode in the story of Lumabat and Wari where the foreign flavor was distinctly apparent. * ^^
My question as to whether a bad Bagobo would be punished in Oimokudan brought the prompt answer, "No;" but when I asked whether a certain boy who had a reputation for small thievery would be allowed to live with the other Bagobo, they told me that there were many different towns in Gimokudan. Perhaps we may infer that the spirits may group themselves according to inclination.

Left-hand Soul or Gimohud Tebang

Diametrically opposed to the takawanan, as regards its character and its final fate, is that other soul of man, the Gimokud Tebang, which shows itself as a shadow on the left side of one's path, and appears also as the reflection in the water. This left-hand soul is hurtful to the body it inhabits, and is the direct cause of many a pain and sickness.

When a Bagobo catches sight of his reflection*'^ in a clear stream, he must look at it soberly; he must not betray any feeling of pleasure or of amusement. If he laughs at his image in the water, he will die (presumably because he has mocked his left-hand soul).

Dream exploits. It is the left-hand soul which leaves the body at night and goes flying about the world, where it encounters

^^^ According to Mr. Cole, there is among the Bagobo of Sibulaa a belief in retribution. He says: "The gimokod of evil men are punished by being crowded into poor houses." Ojo. cit. p. 105.

^^^ Cf. Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 36, p. 22. 1913.

^ ^ ' Reflections in the water are held by certain other tribes in the Philippines to be of great import, being sometimes used as means of divination. The Recollect Fathers wrote, in 1624, of the inhabitants of the Calamianes and Cuyo groups: "Their priests were highly revered . . . The devil showed them what they asked from him, in water, with certain shadows or figures." Blaik and Robertson, vol. 21, p. 228. 1905. As yet, I have not seen that anybody has recorded, of other tribes, a tabu against laughing at one's reflection, or has stated that this image is, specifically, the evil soul of man.
Specialized observances, however, and local variations in belief might easily develop from the suggestion of mystery and of wonder associated with a reflection in the water.


various dangers. All these adventures, with their accompanying sensations, are experienced by the Bagobo in his dreams. As a Bagobo youth explained to me: "When I dream at night, my gimokud tebang is flying and the buso is catching me, or I am falling from a cliff. I dream that I am riding on a boat and fishing in the sea. Many ships I see there that the buso are riding. They look like men with ugly faces and coarse black hair all over their bodies, and some have wings. Then I try to run away."

There is an element of real danger in these dream exploits of the left-hand soul, for it is stated that if the tebang should be caught and eaten by a buso, the human body to which it belongs must die, for the buso, having swallowed the soul, instantly goes in search of the body itself.

One startling exploit of the left-hand soul, that has become known to the Bagobo in dreams, is an attempt to reach the Great City and there join the good spirits in their pleasant home. The tebang gets as far as the City of the Black River, but there is stopped by Mebuyan, who asks, "Are you alive?" The tebang replies, "Yes, Lady," and then Mebuyan dismisses him with the words: "Go back to where you came from." ISTow, if the left-hand soul still persists in forcing an entrance, and tries to bathe his joints in the dark river, like the more fortunate right-hand soul, he gets wet feet and becomes very sick, and is obliged to return to earth.

Closely connected with dreams, are the delusions experienced in trance by diseased or neurotic individuals, who, on waking, describe frightful visions in graphic detail. I quote from a story given by the boy, Islao.

"There are two kinds of dreams: the tagenup and the orup. In the orup, you see nothing; you hear nothing. You will die. The Buso will kill you, if you have no companion to waken you. The orup is making noise without words. A man who wakens from orup tells about it: he says his body is heavy; all the time he hears a sound like the leaves moving in the wind, or like the noise in your ears when you swim. He sees a big man with one eye holding him; the eye looks like a great bowl in the middle of his forehead. Many men who wake up from orup say this. The big man is a buso who wants to carry him off and eat him."

Thus we have the ordinary adventure dream, called tagenup; and the trance or the delirium accompanying a pathological condition, called oruj:). In both cases, the left-hand soul is supposed to ab-


sent itself from the body, and to become an actor in situations that imperil the body, and that are remembered on waking.

Yet not alone in nightmare and in delusions, is a malign influence exerted over the body when this evil soul escapes from it; for other forms of suffering are connected, sympathetically, with the varied exploits of Gimokud Tebang. He swims in :the deep sea and sends shivers through the person to whom he belongs; he strikes his foot on a sharp stone and drives pains through the material foot; he drinks poison, thus causing agony in the stomach; and, by various other sorts of behavior, he brings about a corresponding condition in the body which he dominates.

Fate at death. At the moment of death, the tebang leaves the body for the last time, now to become a buso-ghost, and to join the innumerable company of buso that haunt graves and tall trees and lonely places. Now he is lonely, they say, and wants a companion to prowl around with him at night, everywhere. Like the right-hand soul, he lingers about until the body is buried, in a gruesome attempt to give a summons to some living friend. Folk-lore tells us that the tebang wanders alone through the forests until he finds an old rotten tree, to which he puts the question:
"Can you kill me?" and to this the dead tree answers, "No."
Then the tebang bunts his head against the weak and hollow trunk, and instantly the old tree comes crashing to the ground. This means that somebody is going to die soon. Therefore, when one hears at night the sound of a tree cracking and breaking down, when there is no man near to fell it, one knows, straightway, that the left-head soul is thrusting his head against the trunk, for a signal to some companion. It is a sign of death.

Up to the time that the body is buried, the left-hand soul still bears his old name of tebang, but after the funeral^^ he is called

^^" The conception of a ghost haunting the places connected with its life activities is, of course, very widespread. In Malaysia, certain inland tribes carry this idea so far that, according to Dr. Martin, they have a regular custom of forsaking their houses after a death has occurred in them.

"Dagegen scheint es moglich, die Hantu je nach ihrer Beziehuug entweder zur mensch- lichen Psyche oder zu Erscheinungen in der Natur in zwei Gruppen einzuteilen. Die ersteren kniipfen an die Seele des Verstorbenen an, die den Hinterbliebenen in irgend einer Porm Schaden tun kann. Darum verlassen ja Senoi (und Semang) nach jedem Todes- fall ihre Wohnstatte, auch weun das Grab sich entfernt von der Hiitte im Jungle befindet* oder wenn sie selbst eine Anpflanzung damit aufgeben miissen." Op cit., p. 945. A like custom has found some following among the Bagobo.


hurkan^ or kamatoyan. We may speak of him as a buso-ghost, for convenience in designation, but there is now little distinction, if any, between himself and the rest of the demons. Like other buso, he digs up dead bodies, tears the flesh from the skeleton, and devours the flesh; like other buso, he stands under the house of the dying, or hovers over it, ready to drink the watery blood of the corpse, and to catch every falling drop upon a chin two spans in length. In short, it is those mental images most abhorrent to Bagobo fancy that are pressed into service for picturing the future of that spirit that throws a shadow on the left side of the path, and that looks at one strangely from the water. If this flesh- eating kamatoyan could be seen, the old people say, he would look just like a shadow.

"There is no way by which a kamatoyan can talk with us," the Bagobo assert, "because he is bad;" but he manages to make his presence felt, not only by such signs as the falling of old trees, but by other peculiar noises that are heard in darkness only.
When one hears a sound of weird laughter at night, it is the kamatoyan calling for blood to drink. If the laughter sounds faint and far away, — tihi! — it is actually close at hand; but if it is loud and seems near by it is really far distant, because this evil spirit deceives us. One need not be too much alarmed, however, for, like the other buso, the kamatoyan is seeking only the dead for food, though he may hurt the living by making them sick.

General considerations

Restoration of the dead to life. A few allusions in folklore, and one or two particular episodes in myth, give us the impression that the conception of raising a dead body to life contains no element of impossibility, but may come to pass under certain conditions, of which the following are examples.

If anyone should die in consequence of having laughed at his image in the stream, the corpse must be buried directly under the eaves of the house. By and by, life will return to the body. No doubt some little ritual would accompany the performance, but my informant gave me only the bare fact.

A magical restoration to life, brought about by a combination of circumstances, forms one episode in a story of the S'iring, ^^^ the

^^« 6/*. Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, pp. 51—52. 1913.


forest demon who bewilders men and carries them away. A boy is lured into the woods, and brought to his death by a fall into a ravine. A dream messenger appears to his mother and tells her what offerings to make for the life of her son. The S'iring listens to the woman's prayers, and brings the boy to life by applying chewed betel to the crushed bones of body and skull. When the devotions of the mother are satisfactorily completed, her son is restored to her. Here is involved, the cooperation of a friendly god, of a dream messenger, of the lad's mother and of the demon himself who caused the death.

A peculiar form of sickness that terminates fatally is caused by the pig-like buso called Ahuy^ but "a good medicine" is said to bring to life those struck down by this demon.

There is a hypothetical type of resurrection that involves no outside agency, but supposes a spontaneous return to the body of a soul that fails to perform the required ceremonial bathing at entrance to the lower world. The story entitled "Lumabat and Mebuyan" ^^^ says that, "This bathing {pamalugu) is for the purpose of making the spirits feel at home, so that they will not run away and go back to their own bodies. If the spirit could return to its body, the body would get up and be alive again."

Cult of the dead. Prayers and gifts to the dead are made at set points during the celebration of Ginum, notably at the function called awas^ ^"^^ when areca-nuts on betel-leaves are offered in dishes of hemp-leaf to all the spirits in Kilut, both "the old gimokud and the new gimokud," with an intention of including those who have been long dead, as well as those recently deceased. In the same devotion, the gimokud are urged not to think at all about the festival, for there is clearly a lurking fear that the dead spirits may return and draw the living after them.

Propitiatory rites at this same great festival are addressed to all the buso who were once left-hand souls, so that they may be persuaded to do no harm to the Bagobo. As old Chief Oleng explained: "All the tigbanua of the wood, and all the dead buso — we prepare betel for them, to keep us from being sick." ^"^^

i*« Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, p. 21. 1913.
1 » 1 See Part II.

^2»The fathers of the KecoUect missions in the group of islands called Visayas recorded,
in 1624, an account of the memorial rites there celebrated for the dead.

"Each year every relative punctually celebrated the obsequies, and that was a very


Ideas of death. Young people among the Bagobo tend to confuse mental images of the dead body that they have seen put into the grave with those of the gimokud which, they are told, ^'goes into the earth" in order to reach the underworld. The people in the graves are blind, the children say, but they get along because they have plenty of rice and chickens and banana and camotes to eat. Yet an intelligent adult differentiates perfectly the tri-partite nature which tradition has assigned to man, — there is a physical body that the buso will dig up and eat after it has been put under the soil; there is a good takawanan that goes to the One Country to continue its existence in a less substantial and more highly idealized manner than on earth, although moved by like interests and like emotions to those that motivate him here, and, finally, there is an evil tebang that turns into a horrible, man-eating burkan, perpetually roaming over the earth like a prey animal, and preserving not a single tie or a single interest to bind him to the friends and activities of his mortal life.

The point of psychological interest is, that when a Bagobo talks of his own personal future existence, either as demon or as happy spirit, his attention is wholly drawn off in the direction of the special gimokud which at the moment appeals to him, to an extent that the two conceptions may be said to be mutually exclusive.
Remarks like the following illustrate the point: "I shall be a buso when I die." "Everybody turns into a buso when he dies."

festive day. They gathered a great quantity of food and beverages ; they commenced many joyful dances; they stuffed themselves with what was prepared, taking some to their houses, and reserving the greater portion to offer to the divata, and to the deceased, in the following manner. A small bamboo boat was prepared, with much care, and they filled it with fowls, flesh, eggs, fish, and rice, together with the necessary dishes.
The haylan gave a talk or a prolix prayer, and finished by saying: *May the dead* receive that obsequy, by giving good fortune to the living'. Those present answered witb great shouting and happiness. Then they loosed the little boat (sacred, as they thought), which no one touched, and whose contents they did not eat, even though they were perishing: for that they considered a great sin." Blair and Robertson: o'p. cit., vol. 21, p. 209. 1905.

In another Recollect document, 1624, a custom of the Calamianes is recorded which appears to show a unique attitude toward the dead; "They believed in the kumalagar soul of an ancestor whom they summoned in their sicknesses by means of their priestesses. The priestess placed a leaf of a certain kind of palm upon the head of the sick man, and prayed that the soul would come to sit there, and grant him health . . .
They celebrated the obsequies of the dead during the full moon.*' Ibid.^ vol. 21, p.. 228. 1905.


^When I am dead I go to the Great City." "I shall go down into the earth some day." "Suppose I am dead^ and the shower lasts a week; it is because I am crying." Apparently this tendency is due to an emotional reaction, stimulated by the discussion of his own fate, so that he is unable to view the subject from all sides, as he would do in a case of general application.

Souls of animals and of manufactured objects. Not only man, but all of the larger animals, ^'^^ the domestic fowls and big birds, have each two souls called, like those of people, taka- wanan and tebang. Similarly, the right-hand soul of every horse, of every carabao, of every cat and so forth, goes down at death into the earth and thence to Grimokudan; and when a cock is killed in fight at the pit, its spirit passes down to the Great Country.
As for the smaller birds, and the bees, and the centipedes, and insects in general, — to each of these there is assigned with certainty one gimokud, but only doubtfully, two. Manufactured objects, like articles of wearing apparel and weapons and tools, as well as different kinds of food, have each but a single soul, which goes down below with its owner, or after him.

The associations formed with the left-hand shadow extend to those animals which are believed to have two souls. If a native falls from his horse toward the right side, he will not be injured, because the takawanan of the animal will not hurt him. On the contrary, if the accident occurs so that he falls from the left side of his horse, he is likely to get killed, not from the force of the fall, but through the instrumentality of the horse's tebang, which will try to kill him. ^^*

^ ^ ^ Modigliani says of the natives of Nias that their helief in life after death for the souls of animals causes them to feed and care for aged beasts, and to pay great respect to all animals. Among the five classes of demons recognized at Nias, the Becku nar'b dano are the subterranean souls, or the souls of animals. ''Presso molti popoli riscontrasi la credenza che gli animali abbiano un'anima che gira errante dopo la morte. Da tutti e conosciuto che i Baniani delfindia spingono il rispetto per ogni animale fino ad avere degli stabilimente ove curarli e nutrirli quando siano malati o vecchi, Nel Cambogia quando ne uccidono uno, temendo che la sua anima possa tormentarli, gli domandano perdono per il male che gli hanno fatto ed ofiFrono sacrifizi proporzionati alia forza ed alia mole dell' animale..." Un viaggio a Nias, p. 625. 1890,

All through the Malay country, we find the same attitude toward animals, but varying, from place to place, in its particular expression.

^*'* For a discussion of the belief in animal, vegetable, and mineral souls among peninsular tribes, cf. W. W. Skeat: Malay magic, pp. 52 — 53. 1900. Of the Senoi and Semang, Martin says: „Selbstverstandlich hat... jedes Tier seinen Hautu, der sich unter


A Bagobo always mounts at the right side of his horse, but to what extent this motor habit is associated with the above tradition concerning the double personality of the animal, cannot be definitely stated.


Bagobo tradition records that before time began to be reckoned, before man was made, the universe was peopled by creatures that are now called monkeys *^^ {luhmg)'^ but at that primeval period monkeys had the form of man and were in all respects human.
After man appeared on the earth, the apes took on their present form. Although the line of separation between monkeys and human beings was then pretty well established, there still lingered a tendency toward metamorphosis, by which the simian groups gained an occasional recruit from the ranks of man.

At the dawn of more authentic oral tradition, there were living in the world very aged people called mona^ ^^^ whose home, some say, was at the center of the earth, but others think that the ancestors of the Bagobo, even back to the mona, have always occupied the mountainous sites in Mindanao where their descendants live to-day. The old men were called tuglay^ and the old women, tiiglihtmg^ names originally given to the first pair of ancestors, and afterward applied to all the mona. The god, Pamulak Manobo, who created the earth and the mona, was assisted by the first tuglibung and tuglay in making the plants and stones and other objects that appeared on the earth.

Umstanden fiir das Tier an dem Menschen radien kann." Die Inlandstamme der malay- ischen Halbinsel, p. 946. 1905. Mental associations not very different from these are set up with the Bagobo when a person falls from the left-hand side of his horse.

^ 2 ^ Everywhere in Malay folklore, there are traditions associating men with monkeys, particularly with the gibbon of Borneo, because of its erect position in walking. For several references to traditional accounts, see W. W. Skeat: op. cit., p. 189.

The Moro say that people who neglected the opportunity of going with Noah "into a box were overtaken by the flood and providentially changed to forms that had some chance to survive. Those who took to the hills became monkeys." C. H. Forbes-Lind- say: The Philippines under Spanish and American rules, p. 504. 1906.

The same thought is expressed in a Mantra creation myth, which derives their people from two white monkeys that descended to the plains, in company with their descendants, where they gradually took on human form. The others, who stayed behind in the mountains, remained monkeys. Cf, R. Martin: op. cit., p. 979.

^** Tales of the Mona will be found in Jour. Am. Folk-lore vol. 26, pp. 16, 21, 24—43. 1913.


There were no young people in those days, and no babies were born for a very long time. All the mona were extremely poor, for this was before the days of cultural inventions. They knew^ not the art of weaving hemp into garments, and were accustomed to clothe themselves in bunut, the soft, dry sheath that envelops the trunks of cocoanut palms and can be torn off in pieces of considerable size. ^^"^

^^'This tradition answers, unmistakably, to actnal pre-caltural conditions. Pigafetta, 1519 — 32, makes mention of bark garments among the Visayans of Cebu. "Those girls . . . were naked except for tree cloth hanging from the waist and reaching to the knees." "First voyage around the world." Blatr and Robertson: op. cii., vol. 33, p. 151. 1906.
The same chronicler speaks of the Cebu men as "wearing but one piece of palm tree cloth." Ibid., p. 171. The dress of the Jolo men, according to Pigafetta, was the same as that in use at Cebu. Ibid., p. 109. Of the other sex, he says: "Their women are clad in tree cloth from their waist down." Ibid., p. 131. Cf. Morga's mention of the use of bark cloth among the Visayans. Op. ciL, vol. 16, p. 11. 1904.

I quote from Blair and Robertson the graphic description given by Father Navarrete, a Dominican, of bark clothing as used in the middle of the 17th century at Kaili, in western Celebes, where he stopped on his way to Macasar. "That is the kingdom where the men and women dress only in paper; and, since it is a material which does not last long, the women are continually working at it with great industry. The material consists of the bark of a small tree, which we saw there. They beat it out with a stone into curious patterns, and make it as they desire, coarse, fine, and most fine^ and they dye it in all colors. Twenty paces away, these appear like fine camelets. Much of it is taken to Manila and Macao, where I saw excellent bed-curtains made of it; in cold weather they are as good as one can desire. In the rainy season, which is the great enemy of paper, the remedy applied by those people is to undress and put one's clothes under one's arm." The Philippine Islands, vol. 38, p. 67. 1906.

The editor's footnote suggests the paper mulberry, Brouesnn etia papyrifera, as the "small tree" referred to. Both the size of the tree, and the susceptibility of the clothing to moisture would suggest that it was not the sheath of the cocoanut palm that was put to use in Kaili. Still, it is possible that after long-continued beating the cocoanut bast might easily become so thin as not to resist the force of rain. According to the Sara-sins, many different kinds of barks are used in central Celebes, according to [the texture of cloth it is desired to produce.

"Zur Herstellung dienen die Rinden einer ganzen Reihe verschiedener Baume, je nach- dem man feinere oder grobere Stoffe herzustellen wiinscht. Die grobsten und rohsten sind so dick wie die Stoffe unserer Winterkleider, die feinsten so diinn und transparent wie Schweinsblase." Reisen in Celebes, vol. 1, p. 259. 1905. In central Celebes, where, according to these distinguished writers, the art of weaving is unknown, the clothing of the native Toradja consisted entirely of bark, until within the last half century, when foreign stuffs have been brought in by trade. The bark is put through an extended process of beating and coloring, as described in detail in the above-mentioned work, vol. 1, pp. 259—261.

In the northeast, the ancient dress of the natives of Minabassa was also of the outer bark or of the inner sheath of trees (Baumbast- oder Rindenstoffen) but now, the Sara-


The old people had rice and fruit to eat, but they lived under miserable conditions, for the low-hanging sky brooded so near the earth that nobody was able to stand upright; all were forced to keep continually a stooping posture. Worst of all, the sun blazed in the sky, and so close to the earth that the mona had to seek refuge in a deep hole from the terrible heat. ^^^ During the hot- test part of the day, they crawled into a great pit in the ground, just as those fabulous black men^^^ that live at the door of the sun are said to do this very day. Stung to exasperation at last, an old woman, while stooping to pound her rice, chid the sky for impeding her work, and straightway the sky rushed up to a great height from the earth.

After the sky went up, things were better. The people could then stand upright and walk at ease. They built houses of bamboo thatched with nipa palm, or with cogon grass. The air was cooler; plants grew in abundance, and the mountains were covered with cocoanut palms and banana plants and sugar cane. The mona had plenty to eat, except in seasons of drought, when the sun wilted the rice-plants and spoiled the bananas. Yet they were still called poor, since they had no material wealth in fine textiles, or in ornaments, and they still continued to wrap themselves in pieces of bunut as clothing.

By and by, the old people began to give birth to children. The first boy was called Malaki, and the first girl, Bia: famous names, retained in myth for brave heroes and for ladies of distinction.
All the country came to be full of people, for nobody died in those days. The buso who now function as disease-bringers and death-carriers were then kindly spirits, on intimate terms with the people.
It was at some later period that a quarrel is alleged to have broken out that resulted in the buso assuming a hostile attitude toward man. ^^^

One of the most renowned individuals of this early period was sins state, this primitive material is rarely seen, except occasionally for work in field or forest. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 49,

A map showing the distribution of the bark girdle in Melanesia will be found in F. Geaebner: ''Kulturkreise in Ozeania." Zeitschrift fur Ethnologic, vol. 37, p. 30. 1905.
A map of the distribution of bark clothing in Africa is given by B. Ankermann, in the same volume, 1, p. 62.

^^^ Cf. Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, pp. 16—17. 1913.

^^^ Cf. ibid., pp. 18—19.

^3» (9/ ibid., pp. 42—43.


Lumabat, and several important episodes turn upon the achievements of himself, and of his brothers and sisters. It was at this time that several people, following the lead of a brother of Lumabat's, turned into monkeys, ^^' just as their mythical predecessors had done. A quarrel between Lumabat and a famous sister of his fixed the destiny of man, consigning him at death, not to heaven, but to the country below the earth. It appears that Lumabat insisted upon his sister's accompanying him in an attempt that he was about to make to reach heaven ; but the girl refused to go, and, after a fight with Lumabat, she sat down on the rice mortar ^^"- and caused it to sink into the earth. As she disappeared, while sitting on the mortar, she dropped handfuls of rice upon the ground, for a sign that many should go down below the earth, but that none should go up into heaven. This woman came to be known as Mebuyan, a notable character in myth, for it is she who guards the entrance to the One Country of the dead, and it is she who determines the age at which each individual shall die. Down there in Gimokudon, she shakes a lemon-tree, and the random fall of green or ripe fruit, like the blind-snipping shears of the Greek fate, Atropos, calls youth or age to the lower world. This element seems very suggestive of Aryan influence, since the tendency of pure Malay myth is to make demons and ghosts responsible for all sickness and death. Shortly after the disappearance of Mebuyan, Lumabat conducted an expedition ^^^ having for its object the gaining of an entrance to the country above the sky. A great number of his relatives went with him^ but all save Lumabat himself perished in one way or another on the road. He alone succeeded in jumping between the sharp edges of the horizon, as they flew apart and locked together in rapid succession, and he alone reached heaven and became a great diwata.

The exact arrangement of the mythical chronology is somewhat hazy, and it is not clear whether it was before or after Lumabat's apotheosis that the Bagobo began to become acquainted with the cultural arts. The Tuglibung learned to weave hemp into textiles, after she had laced the warp into patterns and colored it with dyes obtained from the root of the sikarig tree, and from the leaves

^'1(7/. ibid., p. 24.

^^^ Cf, ibid., p. 20.

'^^ Cf. ibid., pp. 21—22.


and buds of the kinarum. She dyed thread in many colors and stitched rich embroideries, piercing the holes with a point of brass wire. The Tuglay began to cast small bells from moulds of bees-wax and to stamp fine patterns in brass and to make kamagi neck-bands from the most delicate of gold scales. The knowledge of these arts seems to have spread slowly, for Bagobo romances indicate that, while on one mountain-top the tuglay wore bark garments and knew nothing of hemp-culture, on another neighboring mountain there were mona who had the finest of textiles and the richest of ornaments. ^^*

Be that as it may, a golden age was dawning for those prehistoric Bagobo. The tuglay and the tuglibung, the malaki and the bia, lived in houses of gold with pillars of ivory and doors of mirrored glass. On the eaves hung linked brass chains; ^-^^ the rattan bindings of the floor sent out flashes of forked lightning that played perpetually throughout the house. Beside their homes, were mountain lakes whose waves were pure white. All around, grew fragrant plants with flowers of gold, and the leaves on the trees were hung with little bells. Textiles of gold covered the meadows like layers of dry leaves, and the blades of grass were points of rare embroidery (tambayang). ^^^ Cocoanuts and areca-nuts grew in clusters at the height of a man's waist, so that one had not the labor of climbing for them. In those days, many individuals had magic power, and of many a malaki it is sung that he was matolus, ^^^ When the tuglay lacked anything, he had only to wish for it, and at once the wish was accomplished. ^ ^^
If he wanted a tall behuka ^^^ to grow in a certain place, it was there. At the summons of the bia, there came, on the instant, a wealth of ivory and gold and fine garments. ^'^^ The invincible

^^'* Of. ibid., pp. 35—36.

^^^ Cf. ibid., p. 27.

^ « « See p. 74.

^ =" See p. 26, footnote.

^ ^ ^ In the sagas of India, there are countless episodes where individuals or things appear magically, as soon as wished for. "He when thought of readily came to the minister.'* Somadeva : Katha Sarit Sagara; tr. hy C. H. Tawney, vol. 1, p. 282. 1880.
"And when called to mind they came." Ibid., vol. 1, p. 421. "The hermit came when thought of." Ibid., vol. 1, p. 436. For similar Bagobo episodes, see Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, pp. 32—33, 35, 36. 1913.

^*^ The Visayan word for several species of rattan.

^"^ C/". Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, p. 36. 1913.


iiialaki . could slay buso in countless numbers, simply by holding the sword first in his right hand, then in his left ; *^^ he was invulnerable to attack, since all the weapons of his foes dissolved at the first thrust ; ^*'- he held up his spear and caused daylight to turn to darkness. **^ He flew through the air, riding on his shield or on the swift wind. ^^^ There were malaki and there were bia from whose bodies beamed rays of light so brilliant that the houses which they entered needed no torch on the dark nights. ^^'^

In song and in romantic tale, even in the current talk of to-day, there is assumed to be a vital relation between beauty in personal adornment and a virtuous character. There is an ideal Bagobo, a true malaki, who is young and perfectly chaste, and who is clad in the finest of garments. In one literary passage, the high virtues of a malaki are stressed; in another, his lustrous clothing, but, throughout, there is ever a return to the one idea: that the typical malaki is pure of heart and brave of spirit, and that he is radiantly beautiful to look upon. One young Bagobo girl defined a malaki thus: ^'Very good man who wears very good clothes, — kerchief, jacket, trousers, all very good, — young man who has no wife." There is a word, kataluan^ which is explained as meaning, "to do something bad and to cease to be malaki." While the characters in romantic tales {idit) do not always live up to the ideal meaning of their name, malaki, yet the primary content of the word is everywhere recognized.

Corresponding to the malaki, there is an ideal woman, sometimes called bia, and sometimes daraga^ ^^^' the latter word being

^^^ Cf. ibid., p. 28.

^'*-' Cf. ibid., p. 34.

^-•^ C?/*. ibid., p. 36.

^'^'^ Cf. ibid., pp. 29, 32, 33.

^"♦^The association of radiant light with the bodies of distinguished individuals is very common in ancient Indian tales. Cf, the following passages, from Katha Sarit Sagara, ed. cit. 1880 — 1884. "The hermit Narada is said to diffuse a halo with the radiance of his body." Cf. vol. 1, p. 162. Again, "he illuminates the whole horizon with brightness." vol. 1, p. 415. "There appeared a light inseparable from his head.'* Vol. 1, p. 418.
"There, on a altar-platform illuminated by the great hermit Vijitasu ... as by a second fire in human form." Vol. 2, p. 146. "And he saw that maiden near him, illuminating the wood, though it was night." Vol. 2, p. 133. "Her beauty illuminated the lower world which has not the light of the sun or of the stars." Vol. 2, p. 199.

^'*^ Bcira is a Sanscrit word, meaning "a girl." The peninsular Malay for "virgin" is dnak ddra, "child girl." See F. A. Swettenham: Vocabulary of the English and Malay languages, vol. 2, p. 27. 1896.

The Tagal word for girls of marriageable age, Morga wrote in 1609, was dalaga. It


employed when it is desired to emphasize the youth and the chastity of a girl. It is true that, in a broad sense, any unmarried woman is daraga, but in poetical use daraga has the connotation of a pure maid, a virgin. In the text of the songs, she is almost invariably referred to by some metaphorical word or phrase suggested by natural phenomena. She is called a point of very high land that the birds cannot fly up to, that even the winds may not reach, though they are crying for her; again, she is figured as the trunk of a sturdy tree that the north wind is not able to break; or she is a waterfall, dropping over steep terraces, around which the snakes make futile attempts to curl themselves. The bird, the wind, the snake — each of these represents the lover, foiled in every attempt at approach to the girl. Here is a part of the Ogan Daraga, or '^Song of a Virtuous Woman." One young girl says to another: "Friend, friend, listen to the song of the kalisawa bird as it flies over the sea and is calling fifty drops of rain. It is well, my friend; we take shelter; the bulla leaf spread over our heads protects us from rain from the north and rain from the south." In the same manner, practically all of the little poems that at first sight seem to be nature songs are purely allegorical in character.

In those ancient days, metamorphosis ^^^ was an ordinary event.
Many persons were turned into trees and stones and rocks, sometimes as a swift judgment upon them for presumptuous undertakings. Wari, a brother of Lumabat's, was transformed into a screech-owl for his disregard of the commands of a god. ^^^ That the tree-hornbill used to be a man, is a well-known fact; and the proof is, that if you look at the body of a hornbill, under the feathers, at some point between the neck and the wing, you will see that its skin is like the skin of man. On the other hand, the kingfisher, ^^^ as we learn from a myth, once turned into a beautiful woman. Transformations of monkeys to buso, ^^^ of a squirrel has been noted that I and r are constantly interchangeable. Cf. Blair and Hobertson: vp. cit., vol. 16, p. 129. 1904.

^'^'^For the episodes describing these transformations, see Jour. Am. Eolk-lore, vol. 26, pp. 21, 51. 1913. Cf. H. 0. Beyer: oj). cit. The Philippine Jour. Sci., vol. 8, pp. S9— 90. 1913.

^^« C/. Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, p. 23. 1913.

"'^ Cf. ibid., p. 54.

^^« (7/. ibid., p. 47.


to a malaki, ^^' even the metamorphosis of a cat's head into a cocoanut ^^- — all these changes are recorded by oral tradition.
Over and over again, does the poor tuglay of the ulit become a great malaki ; while the ill-dressed man called hasolo turns into a splendidly-dressed malaki, and again returns to the state of a basolo, and passes through his final metamorphosis into a malaki: a series of transformations that is achieved inside of one day. '^^ In the last-named cases, it is always by a change of clothes that the metamorphosis is effected ; ^^^ while the squirrel, too, takes off his little coat, and the kingfisher, her feather dress, when the time is ripe for them each to take on human form. Finally, there are stories of babies that become tall in a few days by some magical acceleration of growth. ^^'^

In the recitation of romantic epics and legendary songs, from which the above citations are mere gleanings, the emotional life of Bagobo men and women finds glad expression. In the picturesque phraseology of their richly-endowed dialect, they elaborate these scenes of fabulous oriental splendor with a play of fancy '^'^ that is the more extraordinary in view of the conditions under which even the better class of Bagobo actually lives. In mean little huts, unfurnished, except for the presence of a loom, three fire-stones on a box of earth, and perhaps a stationary bench of bamboo, they sleep on the floor and eat with their fingers, making no attempt to add decorative touches to their homes, although they amply pos-

^^^ Cf. ibid., p. 55.

^'"- Cf. ibid., p. 56.

^ = 3 C/*. ibid., pp. 28, 86.

'''^ Cf. ibid., p. 40.

^^^ Cf. ibid., pp. 34, 54. There are parallel Filipino legends of miraculous gro\;\-th, e.g. "The new-born child ran to the church." F. Gardner,^ vol. 20, p. 111. 1907. \ io>A'

Corresponding cases of magical development immediately after birth are recorded in Indian myth. "That girl the moment she was born . . . spoke distinctly and got up and sat down." Somadeva: op. cit., vol. 1, p. 119. 1880.

isej^Qj. illustrations of this point, see "Bagobo Myths/' Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, pp 24 — 40. 1913. While the descriptive terms in these stories, referring to the beautiful objects possessed in those ancient days, are exact renderings of the Bagobo words, it is hard to do justice to the charm of the original. Even when a boy tells a story in broken English, he pours out a wealth of descriptive words and phrases in the Bagobo tongue^ for which he, of course, knows no English equivalents. In making a large collection, however, one soon becomes very familiar with the vocabulary that represents objects of wealth, for the names and the explanations of hundreds of articles, that are constantly coming for purchase, are given by Bagobo who know not a word of English.


sess the artistic skill to produce such ornamentation. Only in the decoration of objects that are worn on the person — garments^ ornaments, weapons — and of tools used in the industries, does their aesthetic taste find a channel for discharge. Yet as for such a luxurious form of living as would suggest a basis for the mythical romance, it is certain that no Bagobo, at least for many generations, has come into contact with anything of the sort. It should be observed, too, that the ulit, which embodies all of the episodes in the legendary existence of Bagobo ancestors, is essentially different from other stories in the range of native fiction, and it points, both in character and in literary form, to an origin other than Malay. ISTo more interesting problem could arise in connection with Bagobo culture than an attempt to trace the manner of dissemination of the peculiar elements that make up this mythical romance which has now become so intimately associated with the social life of the Bagobo, as well as with their artistic and poetic interests. In the formation of the ulit complex, it is not unlikely that, originally, Hindu sources were rather heavily drawn upon, though we do not yet know the precise manner of contact by means of which this borrowing took place. The Moorish increments must form a very recent, and perhaps a negligible, contri- bution. There is little doubt but that the component parts of the stories came to the Bagobo as a literary possession a very long time [ago, and have been gradually modified by Malay tradition, and enriched by elements associated with recent tribal and with individual experiences.

An ulit ^^^ told me in Bagobo, by Tungkaling, son of Kaba, pictures the mythical surroundings of those old mona people at the dawn of Bagobo tradition, and I will give a part of the story here in a translation as close to the original as is consistent with clearness.

Tuglay, the very wise one, lived by a white lake. He had one hundred carabao, and horses, and seven thousand cows, and goats — all on one mountain. He made kamagi;!'^^ he patterned brass by stamping; he made brass finger rings. He had kept silver hidden under the ground since long

^ ^ '' The 7ilit is the Bagobo mythical romance, the scene of which is laid in prehistoric times; and the characters that figure in the action are the ancient mona, the malaki^ the bia and several other well-marked personages.

^^^A type of necklace highly treasured by the Bagobo. It is a fine, flexible cord formed of small and extremely thin discs of gold that overlap slightly, after the manner of fish-scales. It is said to be of Moro make.


ago. All gold were his plants, his flowers, his sweet-smelling weeds . . .
Textiles of gold covered the sharp blades of the fresh-growing meadow-grass, like a covering of dry leaves The Tuglibung decorated rattan neck-bands with red dye, and she used black kinarum for coloring hemp. The posts of the house were all of ivory; the raised walk to the kitchen was made of eight guns;^^^ all the doors were mirrors; ^^'^ the wood was gold; the burden baskets were gold ; the rattan bindings of the floor were flashes of lightning.

At the rim of the sky there is a bird i^i with feathers all downy, with claws all of steel, with a beak that is a mirror, with a million scales over- lapping one another. This bird looked at the town of Tuglay, and went back home no more [i. e. because the town was so beautiful].

When Tuglay wished textile to grow on the mountains, it was there..
When he wanted rattan to grow, or when he washed to cut for boats the large kind of rattan, it was all ready . . . He was very rich.

^ ^ ^ A Moro gun called shiapang.

^^^la another story, the walls are all mirrors. Cf. Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, p. 27. Where the Bagobo got the visual image of a ''mirrored wall" is a question. To what extent this mythical conception exists among other Malay people, T do not know, but it is to be found in Indian tales, e.g. "Its walls of precious stone were adorned all round with living pictures, on account of the reflections in them of the lovely waiting women." Somadeva : op. cit., vol. 2, p. 199. 1884.

'«^ Perhaps this is the JMinokawa bird. Of. Jour. Am. Folk-lore, vol. 26, p. 19. 1913. See also p. 47 supra.

Bagobo Ceremonial Magic and Myth

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