Oral Traditions, Continuities and Transformations in Northeast India and Beyond 9780815396161, 9781003142430

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Oral Traditions, Continuities and Transformations in Northeast India and Beyond

Northeast India is home to many distinct communities and is an area of incredible ethnic, religious, and linguistic diversity. This book explores the shared cultural heritage among the highland and river valley communities of Northeast India and mainland South East Asia, including South China, through oral traditions. It looks at these shared cultural traditions and suggests new ways of understanding and interpreting the heritage of Northeast India. Oral traditions often bring forward an unexpected twist in understanding historical and cultural links, and this volume explores this using local knowledge and innovative engagements with oral traditions in multiple ways, from folklore and language to performative traditions. The essays in this volume examine how communities build new meanings from old traditions, often as a recognition of the tension between conservation and creation, between individual interpretation and social consensus. They offer interesting parallels on how oral traditions behave in different socio-economic contexts, and also examine how oral traditions and memory interact with the digital world’s penetration in the remote areas. This volume will be useful for scholars and researchers of Northeast India, sociology, sociology of culture, cultural studies, ethnic studies, anthropology, folkloristics, and political sociology. Surajit Sarkar  is Associate Professor and coordinator of the Centre for Community Knowledge at Ambedkar University, Delhi, India. He has been a fellow at the Institute of Advanced Study at University of Durham (UK), the International Institute for Asian Studies at Leiden (Netherlands). Surajit is also an award-winning documentary film maker and video artist for theatre and dance productions. He has created multimedia installations in museums and galleries in India and abroad. Nerupama Y. Modwel is Principal Director, Intangible Cultural Heritage Division, INTACH. She has led a number of research and documentation projects on performing traditions, folklore and oral narratives, studies on tribal communities across the country, and cultural resource mapping of heritage cities like Varanasi, Prayagraj, Patna and Gaya. She has worked on a number of publications on the intangible heritage of India, and guided the development of a Virtual Experiential Museum at Varanasi. Previously, she taught at Delhi University, India and Rajasthan University, India.

Oral Traditions, Continuities and Transformations in Northeast India and Beyond Edited by Surajit Sarkar and Nerupama Y. Modwel

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 The Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage (INTACH) The right of Surajit Sarkar and Nerupama Y. Modwel to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-0-8153-9616-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-14243-0 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by codeMantra

Contents

Notes on Contributors Preface Acknowledgements Introduction: Oral traditions in Highland Asia: a view from Northeast India

vii ix xiii

1

S U R AJ I T S A R K A R

1 From marginal zone to borderland? Ethnographies, histories and politics in Northeast India

13

ER I K DE M A A K ER

2 “Buluotuo Culture”: the Zhuang oral traditions as performance

25

SOM R A K C H A ISI NGK A NA NON T

3 Northeast India and Southeast Asia: rediscovering a cultural lineage through folklores

35

S AJ I VA RG H E S E

4 The uniqueness of storytelling on Malay folk tales

52

RO S L I N A B I N T I A B U B A K A R

5 The Khasi oral traditional forms of communication

68

N ATA L I E J O - A N N E D I E N G D O H

6 Integrating oral narratives in linguistic study of speech communities: a case study of Angami Naga (Kohima village) KELHOU V I N UO SUOK HR IE

80

vi Contents 7 Pottery technology in Garo Hills: an ethnoarchaeological interpretation

91

QU EEN BALA M AR A K

8 Constancy and change: a study on the traditional and colonial built forms of the Khasis

109

A I B A N S . M AW K H RO H

9 Health, spirits and modern medicine in Northeast India

124

N. W ILLI A M SI NGH

10 Role of women in the making of Boro culture: from knowledge production to empowerment

136

D H A R I T R I N A R Z A RY

11 Elwin as the presenter of the Tales of the Tribes films

148

TA R A D O U G L A S

12 Old links: new content: reconnecting Northeast India and Southeast Asia

156

FA L G U N I R AJ K U M A R

Index

167

Notes on Contributors

Roslina Binti Abu Bakar is a Senior Lecturer Faculty of Modern Languages and Communication, University Putra Malaysia, Selangor (Malay Language Department), Malaysia. Somrak Chaisingkananont  is a researcher at the Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn Anthropology Centre, Taling Chan, Bangkok, Thailand. Erik de Maaker works at the Institute for Cultural Anthropology and Development Sociology, Leiden University. Dr. Maaker is a member of the Asian Borderlands Research Network. (http://www.asianborderlands. net) Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh teaches at the Department of Cultural and Creative Studies in the North-Eastern Hill University (NEHU), Shillong. Tara Douglas  has completed her Professional Doctorate from Bournemouth University (UK). She is a co-founder and secretary of the Adivasi Arts Trust. Queenbala Marak  is a faculty in the Department of Anthropology, North-Eastern Hill University (NEHU), Shillong. She has published over 40 research papers in different Indian and international journals. Aiban S. Mawkhroh is a practicing architect. Aiban has done extensive research on ‘Meaning in Khasi house-form’. He was the General Secretary, Meghalaya Tourism Development Forum from 2005 to 2010. Dharitri Narzary teaches history at Ambedkar University Delhi (AUD) and is designated with the University’s Centre for Community Knowledge (CCK). Falguni Rajkumar is presently the Chairman, Board of Governors, Rajiv Gandhi Indian Institute of Management, Shillong, and former Secretary, NEC, Government of India, Shillong. N. William Singh teaches at the Pachhunga University College, Mizoram. He is a UGC JRF fellow and DAAD (Deutscher Akademisher Austauschdienst German Academic Exchange Service) fellow.

viii  Notes on Contributors Kelhouvinuo Suokhrie  is pursuing a PhD from the Centre for Advanced Studies of Linguistics, University of Delhi. Saji Varghese is an associate professor at the Department of Philosophy in Lady Keane College, Shillong.

Preface

The collected papers in this volume are drawn from a conference held from 1 to 4 February, 2016, in Shillong, Meghalaya, and developed by their authors as contributions for this volume. The conference – Oral Traditions: Continuity and Transformations, Northeast India and Southeast Asia – was co-organised by the Intangible Cultural Heritage Division of the Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage (INTACH) and the Centre for Community Knowledge, Ambedkar University Delhi. The 4-day conference brought together 50 scholars from five countries namely, India, Thailand, Malaysia, the UK and the Netherlands, along with heritage activists and museum curators belonging to local communities from the region. Apart from acquainting the audience with new knowledge on ­communities that has emerged after the introduction of multi-disciplinary studies in the field of cultural heritage, the presentations described innovative ­approaches to working with communities, and studying intangible and tangible c­ ultural heritage through oral traditions. The sessions were designed to include various themes which helped the participants to engage with oral traditions in multiple ways, from f­ olklore to language, and performative traditions; from gendered tales found in ­material cultures to ecological traditions and stories of origin. The presentations made by researchers from Southeast Asia revealed insights into how oral traditions are transforming under different socio-economic contexts. Northeast India is a region that falls outside the classical Indian c­ ultural framework. Set between China and India, the region is called a “shatter zone” by political and cultural geographers, denoting a cultural area dominated by two or more neighbouring regions. The indigenous tradition of the region is a result of many processes of cultural flows, migrations and movements of communities, and their local histories. Its isolation from South Asia, colonial geo-political influences in the 19th and 20th ­centuries, the advent of Christianity, and the introduction of education and c­ ommunity-led reforms have all served to give the region a special identity.

x Preface The connections between many aspects of life in the Northeast and the larger Asian cultural landscape can be substantiated from a transnational perspective. In order to contextualise the cultural, social and historical dynamics of the region, it is important to look beyond political boundaries, highlight the cultural continuities in the larger region, and reconsider the manifestation of identities in terms of geographical continuity and cultural dynamics. At a time when the study of multidimensional cultural aspects have been attracting contemporary scholars and policy makers across the world, the shift of focus towards the northeast Indian and southeast Asian region becomes indispensable. The transmission of oral literature and knowledge from a generation to the next is the heart of tradition and memory in oral cultures. It becomes a valuable source of information about people’s history, and provides an insight into the meanings that people attach to their past. Oral traditions become threatened when elders die, or when livelihoods are disrupted and become increasingly endangered in the wake of rapid globalisation and ­socio-economic transitions which exert complex pressures on small communities. The consequent alteration in social order may challenge and at times overthrow the traditional knowledge practices. Keeping this in mind, the conference explored themes like: 1 Transformations seen in material and intangible cultures in ritual, ­tradition and history, or in studies of archaeology, linguistics, and ­genetics, reflect movements and interactions of peoples. Together they help to map a terrain of human cultural diversity in the region. 2 Observation of oral cultures at the sites of transmission and exchange draws attention to the continuities and transformations, and the consequent adaptation or dislocation of tradition in tangible and intangible cultural heritage. 3 Reimagining the museum as a space for civic engagement, and its ­cultural and psychosocial role in building a holistic cultural life, and establishing an identity of communities in times of dislocation and change. The discussions scoped present and past cultural connections among communities of northeast India and Southeast Asia, by examining cultural practices for similarities and inter-linkages. The conference engaged the expertise of multidisciplinary participants to explore how in the presence of transformative social, political and ecological change, the communities of the region strive and succeed in retaining cultural continuity through transmission of knowledge and practice. The participants looked at l­iving cultures – tangible and intangible – as transformations in the sphere of exchanges and social value. Other areas included examination of cultural continuities in materials, crafts, social organisation and technological ­innovations in oral traditions.

Preface  xi Finally, the need for a cultural mapping of the region was indicated by members of participating academic and professional institutions. They emphasised the importance of collating diverse information, establishing linkages between researchers and scholars, and promoting communication between various communities. Nerupama Y. Modwel Surajit Sarkar

Acknowledgements

We would like to acknowledge with gratitude a number of organisations and individuals who contributed to the success of the Oral Traditions Conference from which this publication has been drawn: The Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage (INTACH) for financial support that enabled this conference; Additional support was provided by Ambedkar University Delhi and The North Eastern Council, the Ministry of Development of North Eastern ­Region, GoI; Special thanks to: Maj. Gen. (Retd.) L.K. Gupta, Chairman INTACH, and Dr. C. T ­ shering Misra, IAS (Retd.), Member Secretary INTACH, for their unstinting support; Mr Scott Lyngdoh of the INTACH Meghalaya Chapter; Ms Ilika K. Jimo for coordinating the conference; Dr. Amareswar Galla, Dr. Dharitri Narzary, Mr Ashok Elwin, Dr. Tara Douglas, Ms Tripta Singh, Mr Harish Benjwal, Ms Gunjan Joshi, Ms ­Nishtha Gorke, Ms Neetu Sharma, and Ms Priyanka Nirmala Seshadri; The Don Bosco Centre for Indigenous Cultures, Shillong; Lady Keane College, Shillong; The Intangible Cultural Heritage Division, INTACH; Centre for Community Knowledge and Northeast Forum, Ambedkar ­University, Delhi; Our thanks also go out to all the contributing authors for their insightful papers and their patience through the whole process of publication.

Introduction Oral traditions in Highland Asia: a view from Northeast India Surajit Sarkar

The King Worm went down to the bottom of the water, and made worm casts until he had made all the earth, and the crow patted it flat and smooth. But by the time he came to do the hills, he was too tired to flaten them ­properly, and that is why the plains are smooth and the hills are steep and full of cliffs.1

In the mythology of the Zemi, as of other hill people of Highland Asia, the hill and the plain are recognised as opposed but complementary. This imagination of the landscape was rudely broken in popular imagination, when Jawaharlal Nehru and U Nu, the prime ministers of India and Burma (now Myanmar), respectively, flew over the area to determine the international boundary. Thus, they unwittingly divided villages perched on the mountaintops between the two nations.2 The ease with which such lines could be drawn over terrain in not-yet-incorporated regions, called ‘frontier’ or ‘unadministered’ territories, indicate the perceived statuses of those residing there. These ‘out-of-the-way’ people continued to remain so till the latter half of the 20th century, when technological innovations of the ‘distance-demolishing’ variety changed the strategic balance of power between self-governing peoples of these mountain zones and the adjacent nation-states.3 Scene 1 – Shillong, Khasi Hills, India Sit down in any food stall and listen to the people around you. I­ magine you are a language expert. Enjoy the flow of Mon-Khmer from the tables around you. Listen to the children in the street shouting in 1 Bower, Ursula Graham. 1990. “Papers, ‘the birth of the spirits’.” In The Nagas: Society Culture and the Colonial Encounter, eds. Julian Jacobs et al. Germany: Edition Hansjorg Mayer. 2 Joshi, Vibha, Borderland Lives in Northern South Asia, ed. David N. Gellner. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, p. 171. 3 Scott, James C. 2010, Art of Not Being Governed, Singapore, NUS Press. Preface, pp. x–xii.

2  Surajit Sarkar ­ ibeto-Burman and to the song in Indo-European floating from the T radio. Observe newspapers in five different scripts lying on the counter. Order your bamboo-shoot lunch in any of a handful of languages and guess where you are. Welcome to...Southeast Asia?4 Scene 2 – Muse, China-Myanmar border crossing I was approached by three beggar children at the border of the old Meung Mao (Ruili) – Muse crossing in China’s Yunnan province... The Chinese sentry guard (a woman) stood to attention at the entrance to the crossing point, ignoring them. A girl of perhaps 16 was in charge of what seemed to be a litlle sister of about 10 and an even smaller brother of 5. It was he who approached me, tugged at my trouser legs in the way I suddenly remembered beggars in India had behaved... The girl had some cheap silver rings and copper bracelets around her arms and neck. Could they have been Bengalis, or even Rohingya from Arakan? They had seemed to me Indian, rather than Burmese, and certainly were an unusual sight in China.5 The earlier descriptions are complicated, reflections of ambiguous societies where one might be in several places at once, or even be several different persons. This collection of chapters looks at peoples, lives and objects and structures at the marginal geographies of Highland Asia. A re-imagining of the region known variously as Extended Eastern Himalayas, Upland Monsoon Asia, or Zomia, allows new learnings to emerge as we pay attention to the lived experience of populations kept apart by the boundaries created by ‘Area Studies’. This post-World War II trope used conceptual borders and essentially homogenous regions and largely ignored social realities of the borderlands. As a result, the geographies of ‘knowing’ created geographies of ‘ignorance’, leaving the margins or borderlands as spaces where social and human construction is more complex and obscure than it appears. The study of borderlands ‘assigns an active historical role to borderlands and their population’ and redresses “the imbalance of ‘state-centered’ studies”.6 The cracks in the intellectual framing of the geographies of the world have drawn attention to the experiences of those people who live in the spaces between geographies. Narratives of memory, practice and experience emerging from these societies allow a reconstruction of people’s self-images and perceptions, and so explore how these influence political, social and economic behaviours. 4 Schendel, Willem van. 2002. “Geographies of knowing, geographies of ignorance: jumping scale in Southeast Asia.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 20: 647–668. 5 Tapp, Nicholas. 2015. Introduction to Uncertain Lives: Changing Borders and Mobility in the Borderlands of the Upper Mekong. Thailand: RCSD, Chiang Mai University, p. 5. 6 Baud, Michiel, and Willem van Schendel. 1997. “Toward a comparative history of ­borderlands.” Journal of World History, 8(2): 211–242.

Introduction  3 Oral traditions bring forward an unexpected twist in understanding historical and cultural links, as substantial parallels are seen in stories from a culture area of over a 1,000 kilometres along the eastern Himalayas and its extensions to the south and east. This cultural region, with its megaliths, mithuns and feasts of merit, also has parallel narratives in stories that explain orality, as a consequence of a culture’s loss of writing by accident. The geographical distribution of such a story extends from tribal communities in Northeast India and on the India–Myanmar (Burma)–Bangladesh border, and further east to no fewer than 21 different groups, often in more than one version, across northern Myanmar (Burma) and Southwest China.7 Using linguistic data, connections can be discerned along two quite ­distinct routes, the sea routes between Southeast Asia to the east coast of mainland South Asia, and the overland trade routes passing through Yunnan into the valley of the Brahmaputra. Besides the cultural connections mentioned earlier, it has been recently discovered that the rice domesticated in India (Oryza sativa var. indica) was subject to early introgression with the japonica varieties domesticated in East Asia.8 Although details are uncertain, it is estimated that the communities of the region are the result of the coming together of populations from Sinkiang (China), moving towards the South-East as far as the Brahmaputra valley, and of peoples who moved North from peninsular Southeast Asia. These movements were joined by a third from Yunnan (South China) which moved in a Southwest direction following the Irrawady valley. Each community in the region has its own myths and traditional tales, which indicates vaguely the course and chronology of its movements. Cultural indications of such population movements can be seen in various communities. From Northeast India to Taiwan and the Philippines, to Indonesia, northern Vietnam and areas around the China Sea, communities share a number of cultural practices. These include the practice of erecting megaliths and forked wooden posts; the use of a similar type of tension loom used in Northeast India, Myanmar and Indonesia; the boat race in landlocked (Manipur) valley (1762 Bhagyachandra), the practice of headhunting; practicing terraced agriculture similar to Taiwan and amongst the Igorots in the Philippine Cordilleras, besides a system of alliances, relationships and marriage practices indicate shared cultural pasts with many Southeast Asian communities.

7 Blackburn, Stuart. 2007. “Oral stories and culture areas: from Northeast India to Southwest China, South Asia.” Journal of South Asian Studies, 30(3): 427. 8 Castillo, Cristina Cobo, et al. 2015. “Archaeogenetic study of prehistoric rice remains from Thailand and India: evidence of early Japonica in South and Southeast Asia.” ­Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences, 8(3): 523–543.

4  Surajit Sarkar

Highlands as lived spaces Sometime in 139 B.C. a Chinese official, Zhang Qian, mentions that in the markets of Bactria, he saw cloth made in the Chinese province of Shu (or modern Sichuan) located far to the south. Inquiring if other Chinese travellers had gone before him, he learnt that the cloth and the bamboo had come through India, along a profitable mercantile route from China down through the Irrawaddy Valley across to India and beyond.9 He learnt from the people he spoke to that the journey to the southwest borders of Szechuan took about two months but that the mountains and rivers were hard to pass.10 While we know that Assam had extensive trade links with Tibet through Bhutan and with Southwest China, there is scanty evidence of trade taking place among the hill tribes of the Northeast, though their cultural and ­social linkages with other hill tribes of Southwest China and Southeast Asia are documented. By and large, hill tribes limited their economic relations with valley markets (in this case Assam) and were not part of any known mercantile communities. Even today, trading or merchant communities or classes, of the kind that dot many parts of South Asia and Southeast Asia, are difficult to identify and conspicuously absent in Northeast India. This absence can be understood if the residents of this region chose their locations, subsistence practices, social organisation, physical dispersal and many other elements of their culture, both to thwart incorporation into nearby states and to minimise the likelihood that state-like concentrations of power will arise among them. State evasion and state prevention permeate their practices and, often, their ideology as well.11 These “barbarians by design” continue a brisk and mutually advantageous trade with lowland centres while actively maintaining their autonomy, especially if they lay along a key node in the overland trade routes. Most of what the hills share as physical and social spaces marks them off fairly sharply from the more populous lowland centres. The population of the hills is far more dispersed and culturally diverse than that of the valleys. It is as if the difficulties of terrain and relative isolation have, over many centuries, encouraged a kind of “speciation” of languages, dialects, dress and cultural practices. And yet long-distance travel, marriage alliances, similar subsistence patterns and cultural continuity help foster coherent identities across considerable distances. The relative availability of forest resources and open, if steep, land also allowed far more diverse subsistence

9 Myint-U, Thant. 2010. The River of Lost Footsteps. London: Faber and Faber Ltd. p. 61. 10 Pommaret, Francoise. 1999. “Ancient trade partners: Bhutan, Cooch Bihar and Assam (18th–19th centuries).” Journal Asiatique, 287: 285–303. (English translation is available on https://himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/jbs/pdf/JBS_02_01_02. pdf. .accessed on 19 October 2020The citations are from the English version). 11 Scott, James C. 2010, Art of Not Being Governed, Singapore, NUS Press. p. 8.

Introduction  5 practices than in the valleys, where wet-rice monocropping often prevails. Swiddening (or slash-and-burn agriculture), which requires more land and requires clearing new fields and occasionally shifting settlement sites, is far more common in the hills. This highland region is thus knitted together by comparable patterns of diverse hill agriculture, dispersal and mobility, and rough egalitarianism. As a whole, a cultural universe developed on the hills of the Northeast India like rest of upland Asia maintained its identity substantially unchanged until the second half of the 19th century and in part is still extant today, despite the enormous changes which have taken place in this century. This region, like many other places, is rapidly changing, facing a transformation without precedence. Easier communication, access to markets and contacts with other populations have led to the import of many commercial products of the civilised world, which has had a negative effect on care and development of the indigenous craft. Enamelled plates and cups, and plastic jugs have substituted bamboo trays and jugs which were often delicately carved. Clay cooking pots have been substituted by aluminium ones. Hymns have taken the place of the old songs and dances, and the necessity to weave a particular cloth for a rite of passage of eminence is no longer felt, and consequently many old textile designs have fallen into oblivion. Also the complicated preparation of indigenous dyes has been substituted by cheap and readily available commercial colours. This transformation has required and continues to require lengthy and difficult adaptation, even as it weighs heavily on the rules which control tribal life, social discipline, the integrity of family and community, culture and spiritual values, love of the arts and the concept of aesthetic pleasure. Culturally, this standardisation of relatively autonomous, self-­governing communities is a long process of internal colonialism. It involves the ­absorption, displacement, and/or extermination of the previous inhabitants. It involved a botanical colonisation in which the landscape was transformed – by deforestation, drainage, irrigation and levees – to ­accommodate crops, settlement patterns and systems of administration familiar to the state and to the colonists. One way of appreciating the effect of this c­ olonisation is to view it as a massive reduction of vernaculars of all kinds: of vernacular languages, minority peoples, vernacular cultivation techniques, ­vernacular land tenure systems, vernacular hunting, gathering, and forestry t­ echniques, vernacular religion and so on. The attempt to bring the periphery into line is read as providing civilisation and progress – where progress is, in turn, read as the intrusive propagation of the linguistic, agricultural and religious practices of the dominant ethnic group.12 This collection of writings is an outcome of an international Conference on ‘Oral Traditions: Continuity and Transformations’, held in February

12 Scott, James C. 2010, Art of Not Being Governed, Singapore, NUS Press. pp. 12–13.

6  Surajit Sarkar 2016 at Shillong, India. The four day conference brought together 50 ­scholars, heritage activists and museum professionals from four ­countries: India, Thailand, Malaysia and the Netherlands. Between them, p ­ articipants explored different aspects of the oral traditions of this region, and suggested new ways of understanding and interpreting intangible and tangible ­cultural heritage. Using local knowledge and insider articulations, the ­chapters in this publication range from folklore and language to ­performative traditions, from gendered stories of artefacts and materials to ecological traditions and oral rituals, besides looking at innovative engagements with orality. The chapters here also reveal how communities build new meanings from old, often as recognition of the tension between conservation and creation, between individual interpretation and social consensus. The chapters consider these traditions to result from interactions between people and ambient contexts, as well as the changes in power relations between the individual, community and larger hegemonies of geo-politics and capitalist development over time. Some chapters present a comparative look at the process and outcomes as oral traditions are transformed across national boundaries.

Transformation and oral cultures By the last few decades of the 20th century, many scholars, activists and journalists from the northeastern region of India were uncomfortable with the continuing use of colonial administrative records to describe people, locality and history. As colonial and post-colonial transformations created many dislocations in these largely oral societies, it also erased others, inviting reassessment of identities. Since then, explorations and documentation of oral community knowledge and traditions are being undertaken in a variety of ways. Seeing Highland Asia (also called Zomia, or Mountainous Mainland South East Asia (MMSEA), or extended eastern Himalayas) as a culture area, newly configured ways are being applied in understanding the region, its peoples, history and culture. The idea that built form and social structures are mutually constituted has been addressed by several studies, and humanistic readings of geography in the last quarter of the 20th century paved the way for a distinct form of architectural understanding. These modified the quantitatively constructed architectural landscape readings, by infusing it with textual readings of architectural contexts, informed by the humanities’ ability to articulate meanings in “both imaginative and material terrains” and ­enabled ­architectural geographers to discuss ways in which “architecture can be a form of code-making, or control”.13 The chapter on House Forms of the

13 Person, Angela M. 2011. “Toward participatory interpretation: cultural geographies of architecture.” Presented at the Annual Meeting of the Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture, Montreal, March 2–6, 2011. pp. 397–404

Introduction  7 Khasis of Meghalaya examines and compares the Traditional and Colonial built form, and is a concretisation of a particular set of existential meanings defined by their physical, social and cultural system. It analyses how this particular form relates to the production and perpetuation of the identities of people, their place-making strategies, including sensitivity to issues of sustainability, and the power structures articulated within the community. Consequently, the use of concepts, such as mobility, identity construction, place and space help describe specific aspects of the built environment in new and meaningful ways. Considering the architecture of the built form in terms of a practice, rather than in the semiotic, or symbolic, sense, makes it possible to see how these elements – people, technology, transportation, space and time – have an affect at various scales, that of the individual, family and community. As the chapter suggests, even though the two forms described are placed in uniquely typical environmental situation, yet they are a reaction to their social and belief systems. Furthermore, the chapter describes how the same community adapts to a new belief system with certain constancies to their traditional forms. Across the larger region described as Highland Asia, cultural traditions and ‘life worlds’ of the ‘folk’ highlight the interconnectedness between nature, animal and man. Social coordination and systemic regulation occur by means of shared practices, beliefs, values and structures of communicative interaction, much of which is based on ‘local’ or ‘folk’ institutions. With this in mind, the chapter on ‘Rediscovering a cultural lineage through folklores’ uses informal, culturally grounded folk narratives to describe an ‘environmental ethic’ of cultural similarities between communities of Southeast Asia and Northeast India. Here in this region, the transformations wrought by the imperial, post-colonial and global introduces an instrumental rationality, which has systemically distorted communication and opened the door for a social norm that enjoys legitimacy, even though it may not be local or emerging from shared understandings. Social consensus emerging in this way is not native to the ‘lifeworld’ – and encroaches on it in a way that is ‘colonising’, and similar parallels can be seen across the geographies. Insights of the worldview of communities have, since the earliest times, generated much interest among scholars, and have, to some extent, provided scholars with vital information about the community. Study conducted by Saji Varghese reminds us how across the Uplands of Zomia, in tribal communities similar to India’s Northeast, human-nature relation or respect for nature forms part of the cultural practices and belief which is very much connected with their tradition and custom. Here it is believed that humans, animals, the earth, nature, the sun and the moon belong to a continuum of a moral community. This complementarity of mutual dependence that connects the individual, the community and the wider natural world can also be seen in tribal societies elsewhere, as a Sotho proverb from Africa indicates.

8  Surajit Sarkar However, cultural transformation is not always a result of a directly ‘­colonising’ influence. In Mizo society, most gatherings like weddings, ­funerals, celebration and ceremonies and the commemoration of the dead all call for a community or group singing. The singing is automatically ­connected with a lot of dancing. However, the Mizo are not blind to the many changes that have come in the larger churning of the 20th century. The chapter on the victory chant or Hlado Chham of the Mizo describes how it is no longer associated with hunting or battle, but is performed for any big, collectively recognised, achievement by a person. This kind of highly powerful and expressive act of grand success has been more and more popular in the society today. This process of adaptation was not without its detractors, and some of these feelings were expressed in verse (here in translation) when the drum, initially banned by the missionaries for its non-Christian influence, was accepted by the church in order to embed itself within the musically inclined Mizo community. Zawl venbuk hnam tin zaleng rem se / Kristianin duh tawkin lal a rawn e... / Kan lam khuang leng awi a khai nawl nawl.14 (The Christians are doing as they please and/ now the drum which is very much ours and/ used by us to dance and make merry is now in their hands.)

Transformation and cultural practice Mutuality can be seen in the adaptation from below by numerically smaller communities, attempting to understand and work with the transformations across this region. Accommodating to change and recognising opportunity, individuals and collectives in identified ‘minority’ communities are seen to renegotiate their position in mainstream society. This can be a creative intervention for financial stability, as widely seen in the ‘folk’ arts and crafts of street markets in tourist towns of upland Asia. This is examined by the chapter on the Zhuang Oral Traditions as Performance in Guangxi, China, where the Buluotuo Cultural Tourism Festival provides a platform for a new voice in the construction and reconstruction of Zhuang identity in the larger public sphere. On one hand here, the appropriation of practices and performances in the activities of ancestor worship, a song fair and cultural shows into the state-sponsored festivals give state authorities the power of cultural control. On the other hand, using the trope of reclaiming “lost” traditions due to leftist mistakes during the Cultural Revolution, many levels in Zhuang society play a role in representing their own identities in national and international level. Performers and devotees continually re-negotiate power relations, either by cooperation or contestation over state intervention. This is done by capitalising on the common historical imaginary that

14 Thanmawia, R. L. 2010. “The Mizo Value (as reflected in oral tradition).” In INTACH Silver Jubilee Souvenir. Aizawl: Mizoram Government Press, p. 2.

Introduction  9 encompasses these ethnic groups, while using the state agenda of promoting cultural and economic ties between China and Southeast Asia. An aspect of a prescriptive role occupied by tradition in the modern age can be seen in the chapter on the uniqueness of the storytelling of the Malay folk tales or ‘Pantun’. Using poetry and hyperbole, the paper describes how these performances bring the audience in traditional Malay society to an imaginary world, even if only briefly, to forget their everyday concerns and limits of existence. The paper goes on to suggest how such folk tales function as vehicles to maintain social and cultural integrity of the Malay society. The paper also describes how the digitisation of the folk, through animation in this case, brings it into the world of broadcast entertainment. In this way, the values of a folk culture reach out to a wider audience, and remind them of the way things were and can be. Meanwhile, the mandate that is delivered through social communication extends the lifespan of a tradition, and promotes an awareness of the values and ethics that can be applied in living society and maintains the values of Malay culture. The convergence of the folk with the digital is also a theme explored in the paper on Conserving and Popularising Khasi culture. However, here the emphasis is on media coverage and widespread communication of folk religious practices, from the perspective of the practitioners. Coming at a time when media saturation and the primacy of visual-storytelling is recognised as a powerful method of educating, the paper also describes how the appearance of the accoutrements of visual storytelling – tripod, camera and microphone – lends a certain seriousness and gravitas even amongst traditional practitioners. This return of storytelling around folk religion and practice does not indicate a religious revival, but instead shows how religious discourse is moving out of the private into the public space. Creative efforts are emerging, with the aim of reconnecting young people with their traditions, as described in the paper on ‘Verrier Elwin as the Presenter of the Tales of the Tribes films’ on the making and screening of animated films drawn on oral traditions from Central and Northeast India. This collaborative experiment with oral storytellers and artists from different communities uses the figure of Verrier Elwin, anthropologist, historian and documenter of the oral, as a ‘master of ceremonies’. Seen across many cultures, the spread of communication and digital technologies has made it easier for collectively shared personal acts and beliefs to now move into popular discourse. Once in the public domain, repeated tellings in today’s media saturated world contribute to the power of a discourse, making the tools of mass communication important in reiterating that the community traditions are as relevant as other mainstream traditions. Ethnographic studies offer unexpected insights into ways different communities in this upland region may have interacted in the past. The chapters ‘Pottery Technology in Garo Hills: An Ethnoarchaeological Interpretation’, and ‘Integrating Oral Narratives in Linguistic Study of Speech Communities’ describe a chronology of practice of oral knowledge systems.

10  Surajit Sarkar Here, from language to pottery, from Meghalaya to Guizhou in South China by way of Nagaland, the chapters show how boundary distinctions in both material and linguistic cultures go back in time and are expressed as variants in complexity, practice and usage. These distinctions can also be seen in the ‘boundary-maintaining’ conditions held among Garos by which the living knowledge of pottery held by women is transferred across ­generations. In much the same way, clan identity is maintained by a woman entering her in-laws family, and by adopting the husband’s clan name, though in some communities, they do retain the father’s clan name. What emerges from these is an understanding that the epistemology of knowledge in extended upland Southeast Asia has followed similar lines, even though the communities concerned exist across different locations.

Ethnographies of oral cultures Since the late 19th century, the nation-state, in its multiple variants in East, Southeast and South Asia, has aimed at making its sovereignty reach its physical borders, so as to make the peoples at its peripheries settle down to allow the norms of state. The paper Health, Spirits and Modern ­Medicine in Northeast India presents an analysis of the way in which modern ­patterns of curative care has emerged with its shifting emphasis to a curative practice that comes with packages of cure and care – incomplete without each other, and both located within the understandings of modern health care. Acknowledging that health care is of major importance, the chapter describes how modern medical practice owns the space for treatment through hospitals and clinics, completely ignoring the fact that care-giving for the sick and ill is also part of dedication and attachment that traditional medicine with its close ties to family and the home space fulfils with equal devotion. Seen this way, it is possible to see the welfare programmes of nation-states in terms of their capability to provide social-security to people as a modern form of “enclosure”, for which national plans and policies are designed and implemented to overcome the distance between state and peripheral society. Such transformative times do not leave gender dynamics alone. The chapter on Women in the making of Bodo Culture describes their changing position in contemporary Bodo community life, where their position is recognised as being producer, consumer and carrier of community tradition in a market-oriented, consumption-based society. The accommodation of tradition, and an acknowledgement of the transformation of community processes, has placed community knowledge at the core of negotiations around identity. Today, the broader symbolic and material repercussions of stylistic choices, as well as tracking the interaction between intentionality and positionality shaping the effects of material use, requires critical scrutiny. In this connection, the chapter describes how this has enabled renegotiation of the dynamics of the socio-cultural processes at play, and allowed

Introduction  11 women, like other once taboo subjects like pork and brewing, to return to centre stage in discussions on community identity. The chapters in this publication have one common characteristic, and that is their engagement with the oral. From practice to memory, from experience to story, these papers contain understandings that emerge from a kind of non-written social memory embedded in orality, in acts and expressions, ritual and speech, and grounded in meanings lived in the social landscape. For statist imaginations, embedded in the authority of Empire, State and Written Word, they could at best attend to only the oral narrative. Such imaginations were not able to understand readily the significance of histories recorded in three dimensions, for example in the warp and weft of textile design, or in the records replayed in the polysensual experience of singing, dancing, drinking and feasting. For the Highland cultures, as the chapter ‘From Marginal Zone to Borderland? Ethnographies, Histories and Politics in North East India’ describes, ethnography offers a way of looking at living experience and transformation it has undergone – both for people and communities. As this collection suggests, cultural transformation is underway all across the region, and an intertwined interculture is seen to emerge that is continuously negotiating between the unique oral dimensions, some of which is shared by other communities, with the dominant mainstream. By practicing a reflexive ethnography, it is possible to transform the obstacles to investigation into the investigation itself. As the chapters indicate, a more pertinent way of understanding the cultural continuities across Highland Asia may be in trying to understand in which way communities as social entities connect to others, and how do these connections shape their form and content? This implies two considerations: first, multiple identity markers – like myths, rituals, festivals, but also political and territorial claims – correspond with the variety of external relations by which communities define themselves. This explains why there are seemingly contradictory forms of relating to the outside or making up ethnicities. The other point is to note that existing representations provide material that can be read in terms of modern indigeneity as a form of identity emerging from a relationship with the nation-state and a global public. It is therefore doubtful if a boundary can be drawn between a current age of globalisation and the nation-state and an earlier period of premodern relationships.

Conclusion Reflecting on the state of tradition among the ethnic groups of Northeast India, Ao Naga poet Temsula Ao writes: The cultures of North East India are already facing tremendous c­ hallenges from education and modernization. In the evolution of such cultures and the identities that they embody, the loss of distinctive

12  Surajit Sarkar identity markers does not bode well for the tribes of the region. If the trend is allowed to continue in an indiscriminate and mindless manner, globalization will create a market in which Naga, Khasi or Mizo communities will become mere brand names and commodity markers stripped of all human significance and which will definitely mutate the ethnic and symbolic identities of a proud people. Globalization in this sense will eventually reduce identity to anonymity.15 Similar concerns are also expressed by ethnic poets in Southwest China, where situations of rapid cultural shifting as local folk cultures are impacted by influences from urban, consumer-based cultures, various political and religious agendas, and the forces of that nebulous term “globalization”. Themes and imagery utilising “local knowledge”, folk traditions, nature, and contemporary social issues are characteristic of many poems produced in the respective regions. However, for reasons of history, geography and language there is little mutual awareness between the poets and readerships of these respective areas due to factors related to the emergence of modern India and the People’s Republic of China. Though the cultural and linguistic links between these poets may be ancient and modern divisions complex, many of their poems resonate in ways that seem to dissolve borders and create poetic homes for their respective voices within the terrain of this upland region.16 As this publication suggests, peoples in this transnational region speak languages in the same families, share elements of material culture and ­follow similar lifestyles and traditional practices. Though physically close in terms of actual distance, daunting cultural, political and geographical barriers have made interaction difficult for these cultures for centuries. Though writing in different languages, the content of many of these poems has surprising parallels, especially the use of folklore and images of the ­human-inhabited natural environment. While possibilities of ancient links via migration may be a factor in parallel folk ideas and ways, similarities in the ethnographic poetry may also be due to a process of convergence.

15 Ao, Temsula. 2006. “Identity and globalization: a Naga perspective.” in Kailash C. Baral, (ed.) Globalisation and Tribes of Northeast India, in Indian Folklife No. 22, ­Chennai, July 2006, p 6–7. 16 Bender, Mark. 2012. “Ethnographic poetry in North-East India and Southwest China.” Rocky Mountain Review, 66(Special Issue: Border Crossing): 106–129.

1 From marginal zone to borderland? Ethnographies, histories and politics in Northeast India Erik de Maaker Introduction Northeast India is predominantly perceived as a borderland, due to the near enclosure of the vast land area by international borders. And yet, increasingly, the marginality that being ‘borderland’ implies is being questioned. The current political borders are of a relatively recent nature. What impact do these have on cultures and societies who were earlier not confronted with their existence? This chapter has grown out of a keynote lecture that explored what approaching Northeast India as a ‘shatter zone’ in between South Asia, Southeast Asia and East Asia might yield with respect to oral traditions and heritage, as manifestations of culture.1 I am proceeding along three distinct angles. First, focusing on Northeast India as a ‘shatter zone’ in between South Asia, Southeast Asia and East Asia allows for comparison across a larger geographical area, in which cultural overlaps, connections and transformative zones exist between people who belong to distinct communities. These comparisons can encompass domains such as language, material culture, natural resource management and so on. But it also allows for the identification of shared trends in terms of cultural transformation, economic development and social change as these take place within the larger region. Second, the ‘shatter zone’ between South Asia, Southeast Asia and East Asia is divided across a large number of distinct states. Dependent on how one defines the region, the area which Northeast India is central to at least involves India, Bangladesh, Burma/Myanmar and China. Taken an even bit more broadly, it includes Bhutan, Nepal, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam as well. Each of these states has its own history, resulting in ­specific political environments and administrative and legal regimes that shape perspectives and debates on citizenship, ethnicity and culture.

1 ‘Oral Traditions: Continuity and Transformations: North East India and South East Asia’, organized by the ‘Intangible Cultural Heritage Division’ of the Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage (INTACH) and the ‘Centre for Community Knowledge of Ambedkar University Delhi (AUD).

14  Erik de Maaker Where the Indian state has invested in the community-wise attribution of rights and privileges, the state of Bangladesh has been much less forthcoming (to say the least), as is evident from the long drawn out conflict in the Chittagong Hill Tracts. In neighbouring Burma, the state has not only been frugal in granting ethnicity-based rights, but overall continues to have much less of a presence in the uplands as compared to India and Bangladesh. In Thailand, many members of what are locally known as the hill tribes have not been recognized as Thai citizens, but are seen as migrants that hail from Burma, and are consequently stateless (Rajaram and Grundy-Warr 2007). In Vietnam, the people of the uplands, referred to as ‘mountain people (montagnards), are politically and culturally marginalized by lowland people (Pearson 2009). Comparison across borders, and thus across state contexts, allows for differences in such constellations to be highlighted. Last, but certainly not least, locating Northeast India as a shatter zone in between South Asia, Southeast Asia and East Asia creates an awareness of how the borderlands that states create, the locations at which borders are ‘placed’, or (dependent on one’s perspective) have been ‘imposed’, are ‘zones’ where states manifest themselves even more emphatically than they do in areas further removed from these borders.2 The three angles outlined above can be approached from distinct disciplinary perspectives: from archaeology to ecology, and from linguistics to ­creative expressions. I will explore these from the perspective of ethnography, not only since that is the discipline, I am most familiar with, but also since ethnography is central to discussions on orality, culture and heritage, certainly in Northeast India and the areas surrounding it. Ethnography, with its emphasis on empiricism and experience, demands a continuous rethinking of the conceptual models that it draws upon. This reflexivity forces us to also rethink the historical and political contexts that colour our observations, and influence our analysis, broaden our conceptual ­canvas, and consistently and critically scrutinize the concepts that we use to ­describe and analyse the social and cultural words that we study. In this chapter, I focus primarily on the contiguous upland areas of India and Burma. An area included in the contiguous upland zone that stretches from Nepal to Vietnam, nowadays often referred to as zomia (a term coined by historian Willem van Schendel (2002) and further popularized by James Scott (2009)). My own long-term ethnographic involvement in the region is with the Garo of Meghalaya, to whom I will refer at some more length. I will consider perspectives on ‘culture’, both outside and inside academia. I will argue that extending academic perspectives across borders is required, to transcend debates on culture that are encapsulated by the political c­ ontexts created by ‘national’ states. 2 Scholars are increasingly aware of the importance of borders in Asia, as is also evident from the strong and growing interest in platforms such as the Asian Borderlands ­Research Network. Weblink: http://www.asianborderlands.net/, accessed 1 July 2016.

Ethnographies in Northeast India  15

Imagining Garo traditions Receiving tourists has become a regular affair for the people of a reasonably large village in the West Garo Hills of Meghalaya. These tourist, some Indian, more often American, European, Japanese or Australian come to “experience the ancient animist culture”, as trans-Asia hitch-hiker David Hagan states on his weblog (Hagan 2013). Indeed, visiting a Garo village, preferably one that has many practitioners of the local ‘community religion’ (to avoid the term animism, given its evolutionist bias), is an important ­experience for tourists who come to this part of India. Local tour guides, usually young Garo men from town who speak good English, who know which villages still “have animists”, take the tourists there. One of the ­villages that regularly receives tourists these days is the one in which I lived for nearly two years, now about 15 years ago. Even I went there, initially, since I was attracted by the persistence of the community religion in a cultural environment that is otherwise overwhelmingly defined by Christianity. The vast majority of the approximately one million Garo are Christians. This begs the questions: Why do people continue community religion-based practices that have almost everywhere else within the same Garo cultural realm been abandoned? And what is lost if they would decide to do so as well? At the time, the likely answer to the latter question (the loss of an ‘entire cosmology’) seemed particularly disturbing. But over the years I have learned that ‘cultures’ do not necessarily centre on what are deemed religious practices. In other words, even as the Garo community religion gradually ceases to be practiced, many of its ideas and values, and their social, political and economic resonances will continue to provide continuity to what people experience as ‘Garo culture’. Moreover, many practices are not so much abandoned, but transform to resurface in a sometimes surprisingly similar guise in a Christian context. The village did, and does, include both practitioners of the community religion as well as Christians (belonging to distinct denominations). It has been my attempt to contribute to a scholarly understanding of the co-­existence and fluidity of these traditions, rather than going along with the popular, but in my understanding incorrect juxtaposing of the community religion as ‘traditional’, as against Christianity as ‘modern’ (de Maaker 2013a, 2013b). This matters not only because it is important to gain an (academic) understanding of the sustenance and adaptability of cultural traditions, and to explain how traditions can be modern, and modernity can be traditional. It is also of relevance, in the given context, because of the sustained and distortive romanticizing of the practitioners of the community religion as the ‘real’ Garo. After all, that suggests that Christians are somehow not ‘real’ Garo and thus that Garo culture has not truly made it into the Christian realm. A few examples can clarify this point. The village from which I did much of my fieldwork is not only liked by researchers, but also by photographers and filmmakers (perhaps encouraged by my earlier presence there, ‘real’

16  Erik de Maaker culture validated by the presence of an anthropologist…). Yet a French journalist, working on a reportage for the glossy Geo travel magazine, was really disappointed once he found out that quite a few houses in the village had roofs made with corrugated iron sheets. He wanted, he told me, ‘real’ houses that had roofs of thatch. The photographer who travelled with him framed his pictures with a lot of care. His hard work paid off, and the beautiful full colour photo of the article that was eventually published showed not one house that had an iron roof. The title of the article read ‘Journey to the Harmonious Land of the Garo’ (Castel 2002), with a subheader that explained the reasons for this harmony, namely: “The people of the northeast pass their time happily. Their secret: they maintain ancestral traditions”.3 In other words, according to the article in Geo Magazine, the ‘traditional’ Garo live in a ‘time out of time’. They live close to the past, perhaps even in the past. This positions them as ‘past contemporaries’. Likewise, an Indian feature filmmaker, who had a big budget at her ­disposal to produce a film that highlighted the efforts of the International Fund for Agricultural Development in the region, understood village life primarily as “traditional”, where people lead “a treasured life” and not a “modern” one that is “developed, insecure and unnatural”.4 Even television crews have found a useful décor in the village for the depiction of tribal traditions, and in its people willing and skilful actors. Their shooting usually followed a script, loosely premised on popular interpretations of the available ethnography. Typically, men would be asked to take their pants off and wear loincloth. Young men would act as if living in the communal bachelor’s dormitory (nokpante), which was in fact no longer in use. And customary village court hearings would be enacted, followed by punishments no villager had ever witnessed in her or his lifetime. Villagers were familiar enough with what seemed to be ‘ethnographic conventions’, to enact what was expected of them. In fact, they always enjoyed such acting out, also where it included practices that had never been part of their own everyday lives. They felt appreciated and important as ‘carriers’ of culture, for being experts and custodians of ‘ancient’ practices and ideas that apparently mattered greatly to the filmmakers. This made acting fun, and, also not irrelevant, with a few hours of acting they could easily earn the equivalent of several days work. To my understanding, the rather stereotypical portrayals of Garo culture mentioned above fulfil a demand in a national and global market, where audiences want to locate ‘tribal’ or ‘indigenous’ people in nature, and in

3 Ce peuple du nord-est du pays coule des jours heureux. Son secret: le maintein de traditions ancestrales (Castel 2002, 48–49). 4 “This story would touch upon the issues of their changing worlds (…), something about their reality so that for 80 minutes an audience can relate to what it is to be a Garo, so that after the film is over, perhaps they will for a minute question their own reality, the modern developed world and how the Garos will be giving up a treasured life for a life that is developed, insecure and unnatural” (email conversation, 26 November 2002).

Ethnographies in Northeast India  17 a timeless past. In fact, this kind of portrayal is common for ‘indigenous’ communities worldwide, with the US-based National Geographic Channel as one of its main purveyors. Notwithstanding villagers own sense of self respect, it was and is not uncommon for people belonging to what might broadly be termed the Indian middle classes to regard them as ‘primitives’. This qualification even surfaces in official documents, and reveals a hierarchical perspective on culture, in which Garo villagers are ‘primitive’ and part of a ‘past’, supposedly in comparison to people who are educated, live in town, and consider themselves more generally included in global modernity. How are such takes on culture, tradition and modernity rooted in, but also confined by, the historical and political contexts in which people find themselves?

Ethnography as history? Perhaps the continuing localization of the Garo in an ‘ethnographic p ­ resent’ is due, partly, to the long afterlife of ethnography in Northeast India. Cheap reprints of colonial era texts, written by administrators and missionaries, are easily available, and serve as accounts of local history. Major Playfair’s The Garos (1909) has been reprinted frequently. The same holds for The Garo Jungle Book (1919), William Carey’s history of the Baptist mission in the Garo Hills, and a number of other titles. And even though The Garo Jungle Book does not qualify as ethnography in a strict sense, it does include strongly descriptive passages, and continues to be read in schools and colleges. Ethnography, in writing, but also increasingly in photography and films, provides the Garo with a past. In the pre-colonial era, Garo was not a written language, and if it were not for these ethnographic sources, there would be no historical record of Garo life. Playfair and Carey play a vital role in informing people about the Garo past, but also contribute to the identification and constitution of community in the now. Texts such as these validate the existence of the community, and it is not an exaggeration to say that in Northeast India, at least as far as the upland communities are concerned, the production and publication of ethnographic knowledge is instrumental to any process of ethno-genesis. Ethnographic writing is based on interviews, observations and oral histories. It implies that ideas, practices and memories are transformed into writing. Due to the authority vested with published books in general, and those deemed scholarly in particular, ethnographic ‘output’, much beyond representing cultural phenomena, solidifies these. In the process of charting and defining, sociological ‘objects’ are not so much identified, but produced. It is unavoidable that in the bargain oral histories that are fluid, and ideas and practices that are open-ended and situational become ‘hardened’ (hence solidified) into ‘real facts’. These ethnographic ‘facts’ provide the building blocks for a framing of ethnicity and community.

18  Erik de Maaker

Ethnicity and locality In Northeast India early ethnographic knowledge production has contributed to the territorialization of ethnicity. That is, the linking of upland communities, ‘tribes’, to specific geographical realms. Garo live in the Garo Hills, Khasi in the Khasi Hills and so forth. Moreover, it has contributed to understanding ethnicity as something that one is ‘born into’, that is innate. Such a take on ethnicity as primordial has driven the development of an administrative model that attributes ‘rights’ based on community. Preferential treatment of ‘tribal’ communities, meant to counter economic and political exclusion, as well as other historical disadvantages, has been instrumental to the development of what Sanjib Baruah calls ‘ethnic homelands’ (Baruah 2003, 58). Such ‘homelands’ can take various forms, either an ‘Autonomous District Council’, or an entire ‘tribal’ state. The significant advantages that such homelands offer to their advocates in terms of political power, legislation, government jobs, and budget allocation continues to motivate ethnic activists to advance political claims based on an exclusive link between ethnicity and land (Vandekerckhove 2009). An ‘ethnic homeland’ provides ethnic actors with the legal means to resist deprivation by the forces of global capitalism. Yet, it is also problematic, in that it labels people who do not belong to the ‘homeland’ community as ‘denizens’ (ibid., 45), who are in certain respects discriminated against as compared to the former. Moreover, successfully advancing ‘ethnic’ claims to resources, administrative privileges and political power, requires ethnicity to be substantiated in terms of cultural distinctiveness. Also among Garo ethnic activists, there is a long-standing demand for an ‘ethnic homeland’ (a separate Garo state). Garo ethnicity, the claim to be culturally distinct from others, rests significantly on ‘having an own community religion’. Consequently, the (last) practitioners of the community religion have become an important political asset. Certain politicians advocating for a Garo ‘separate state’ make it a point to regularly publicly present themselves as ardent promoters of the community religion. Cultural markers that are from an all-India perspective regarded as ‘lower’ in the cultural hierarchy, are reinforced in the context of ethnic, notably ‘tribal’, claim making. Primordial perspectives on culture and ethnicity thus continue to be in demand both for political reasons, tourism, and to validate the work of international NGOs for a global audience. For the broader Garo middle class, educated and Christian, the identification of ‘Garoness’ with the community religion is as a consequence not entirely unproblematic. After all, if in the eyes of national and even international audiences ‘the Garo’ are followers of the community religion, who live a village-based life, perhaps primitive and non-modern, doesn’t that (in those eyes) pertain to them as well?

Ethnographies in Northeast India  19

Uplands and lowlands: hierarchies and connections Obviously, understanding communities as geographically confined, ­culturally consolidated, and otherwise ‘closed’ does not do justice to the complex realities that the people of the region find themselves in. In my own fieldwork, I noted how a marriage between a Nepali woman and a Garo man resulted in the seemingly unproblematic absorption of the Nepali into Garo social networks. This certainly held for the children born from that relationship. Marriages apart, the fieldwork village has quite a few children born out of ‘mixed’ ethnic relationships, and this never posed any issues at all. Rather, it seems to be regular practice that ‘outsiders’ marry ‘in’, and ‘insiders’ marry ‘out’. What counts most of all is a person’s cultural and linguistic aptness, and customary principles that she or he adheres to. Mechanisms by which people shift communal belonging are also identified in a recent essay by Philippe Ramirez (2013), who has done extensive research in the – in ethnic terms – ‘marginal zone’ that separates Khasi Hills from Assam. He shows that in addition to individuals being adopted into other communities, entire households can engage in what he calls ‘ethnic conversion’. For example, Ramirez has documented how people who previously identified as Garo became Karbi. In the given context, people spoke more than one language, so language did not pose a hindrance. In his historical treatment of state formation (and evasion) in Burma, Scott (2009) suggests that one reason for people to shift ethnicity, is that ethnicity is in part defined, and assumed, dependent on how people utilize the resources at their disposal. More concretely, practicing shifting cultivation makes specific demands on social organization, which differ from those imposed by wet rice cultivation. Uplanders and lowlanders are culturally distinct, he argues, but that distinction is – at least in part – functionally inspired. To perceive of the hills and the plains as distinct cultural realms finds its origin, at least in part, in 19th-century colonial policy. It aimed at the integration of the plains with the colonial state, while defining the upland areas as marginal zones that remained ‘largely unadministered’. While the plains became valuable in terms of agricultural surplus production, the upland areas had apparently little economic value (apart from timber). Contrary to the inhabitants of the plains, who were often wet rice cultivators, uplanders provided in their livelihood through shifting cultivation. As the term indicates, this involves fields the location of which is not fixed. Given that the usage of land varied between cultivation cycles, there was no permanent occupation of land, and as a rule its management rested with localized clusters of kin and affines. Such groups demanded a leadership that was based on, but could also be challenged, through competitive feasting (a practice that in certain respects continues even today, e.g. the celebration

20  Erik de Maaker of funerals, marriages and so on). Consequently, for large parts of the uplands, political authority was scattered. Given that there was no ­centralized ­political structure, upland societies became labelled as ‘pre-state’ formations. If centralized states are the ‘cradles’ of civilization, as is the popular assumption, such a label relegates upland societies to being ‘left behind’. This also sounds through in the qualification voiced by some authors that swidden cultivation, as an agricultural technique, is ‘unscientific’, ‘inefficient’ and ‘degrading the environment’ (Ranjan and Upadhyay 1999). This strengthens the point that its protagonists are conservative and not in pace with the times. Such a perspective, again, and certainly in the public mind, positions uplanders as ‘traditional’ and thus ‘non-modern’. Dichotomous perspectives on upland–lowland relationships in South and Southeast Asia were challenged already in the 1950s by Leach’s (1977) seminal work on Kachin–Shan relationships, which revealed intricate connections, reciprocities and frictions. Likewise, Lehman (1963) showed in the 1960s that relationships between upland Chin and lowland Burmese were characterized by interdependence rather than dichotomy. More recently, for Northeast India, Sanghamitra Misra (2011) analysed historical transformations of political authority in Goalpara, a riverine area squeezed in between mountainous Bhutan in the north and the Garo Hills in the south. Focusing on the complexity of upland–lowland relationships, she shows that pre-colonial state formations in lower Assam should be understood in nodal, rather than in territorial terms. The people of Goalpara, she argues, maintained relationships with several polities. These exerted their authority primarily though the taxation of trade goods that were transferred at markets. Similar to the mandala states of South East Asia, tribute and political allegiance could be owed to several political centres at the same time. In South and South East Asia, and certainly also in the uplands of Northeast India, pre-colonial state formation related to people, rather than to the land surfaces, or territories on which these resided. In other words, upland and lowland people did not exist next to one another, but maintained complex political and economic relationships. In the more recent past, the networks in which Northeast Indian upland societies are included have been extended through missionary contacts that reach within India to states such as Kerala and Tamil Nadu, and outside this country towards South Korea, Australia, the United States and Europe. In addition, more recently, ‘indigenous people’ have emerged as a global social and cultural category. It has become generally accepted to refer to Northeast India’s upland ‘tribal’ communities as indigenous people, which has been important to both nationally and internationally formulate claims to land and resources. This has brought Northeast Indian upland communities into the same bracket as the Dongria Kondh of central India, Australian Aborigines, Canadian Inuit, and other relatively successful claimants of indigenous rights.

Ethnographies in Northeast India  21

Territorializing states From the 19th century onwards, upland–lowland relations in South and Southeast Asia have transformed, as lowland-based polities increasingly developed the inclination to control the uplands. Initially, geographical borders, drawn on maps, in practice hardly existed, and did not pose a hindrance to the movement of people and goods. Even so, state incorporation of the uplands implied codification and also adaptation of customary laws, and redefinition of notions of authority, inheritance and ownership. Regulation, registration and mapping, however ‘light’, did have a major impact on political structures, and economic and social relationships. More recently, the administrative structures that were initiated in the colonial era have expanded, and state control been consolidated. The uplands, once of little economic value, are increasingly gaining appreciation in terms of mining, hydropower as well as hotspots for biodiversity. ‘States’ consequently have an increasing desire to forge access to the uplands. Their rugged terrain initially hindered the extension of territorial control to the uplands significantly, and it has been (and continues to be) a prime objective to reduce what James Scott calls ‘the friction of terrain’. Road building, and more recently, the construction of airports, continues to be central in any upland directed policies. In addition, the state has a sustained desire (at least in India) to refine and extend its administrative structures, as well as increase the degree to which upland farmers are integrated with markets. Northeast India is surrounded by international borders. Consolidation of the modern state in Asia has resulted in a growing emphasis on the imposition and control of (geographical) borders, and Northeast India is no exception. There are at least three transformative processes, relating to borders, that urgently require our attention for the study of culture and heritage in Northeast India as an area sandwiched in between South Asia, Southeast Asia and East Asia. These are: (1) the increasing penetration of ‘states’ in the borderlands, (2) the transformation of borderlands in terms of the resources these harbour and the ways in which these are utilized and accessed, and (3) the development of a comparative perspective on culture and society in a larger contiguous zone that exceeds the boundaries imposed by states. 1 The borders of Northeast India are of relatively recent origin. Even more recently, the Indian state has begun to make them into real, physical, on the ground borders. These borders more often than not divide communities, and their imposition has, certainly initially, been experienced as rather arbitrary if not erroneous. After all, these borders divide communities such as Mizo/Chin, Naga and Garo. How does the hardening of borders, and the increasing presence of states, transform the uplands? 2 Borders divide people, and restrict them, but can also offer advantages in terms of trade, e.g. the Bangladesh trade goods sold in India. Borders

22  Erik de Maaker can also offer protection, as in case of the ethnic insurgents which for decades have found refuge for state security forces across the border of a neighbouring state (van Schendel and de Maaker 2014). The uplands of Northeast India/Southeast Asia, once marginal in terms of the economic resources these represented, are currently increasingly taken ‘into’ markets. Market penetration is not new, but lately market dependency increases, and upland economies are rapidly monetizing. Neo-liberal access to resources has long been hindered by militancy (bandhs, extortion, kidnapping), which kept investors at bay. Lately, counter insurgency operations, and the exclusionary regimes these create, serve to facilitate large-scale development (which Kevin Woods (2011) has called for Burma so poignantly ‘ceasefire capitalism’). In what respects does resource utilization transform, and what are its consequences? 3 A perspective on trans-regional borderlands that encompasses political borders, and exceeds these, broadens the view. In exceeding any given state, it creates a larger geographical field, within which migrations, transfers and transformations of people, ideas, goods and techniques can be studied. These movements and migrations are of relevance historically but also contemporary. It involves for instance labour migrants, but also the transnational religious spaces created by Christian movements. What are similarities and differences with regard to such processes throughout the continuous uplands of zomia? Borderland studies draw attention to the state, as an important level of enquiry. At the same time, in creating a comparative perspective, it encourages scholars to exceed the confines of given states.

Conclusion: towards a trans-regional perspective Let me return to the examples that I started with, which is the persistent emphasis on essentialist representations of upland culture, that cannot do justice to the extent to which upland traditions transform, and are relevant to the current moment in time. Likewise, essentialist representations of upland culture obscure our perspective on the extent to which that what might be perceived as upland modernity is a continuation of traditional practices. In my opinion, the point is not just to challenge and debunk primordial approaches to culture and ethnicity, and instead emphasize their processual nature. Rather, it is important to acknowledge that primordialist thinking about ethnicity, culture, tribe, is part of the societies or cultural realms that we are looking at. Can we develop conceptual frameworks that allow appreciation for cultural difference, perhaps in terms of confluences, rather than approaching ethnicities as ‘bounded’ entities? Can we acknowledge and take into account that cultural profiling is part of political discourses

Ethnographies in Northeast India  23 in Northeast India, and consequently influences representations of culture and heritage? Broadening of the canvas in the study of culture and heritage, to encompass a larger geographical zone, and a range of states, creates space for the inclusion of discourses about culture, ethnicity and tribe. In other words, it is not good enough to show that ethnicity is dynamic, situational and fluid. We need to take discourses about culture and heritage into account as well, and explore how these are shaped by given historical and political contexts.

References Baruah, Sanjib. 2003. “Citizens and Denizens: Ethnicity, Homelands, and the Crisis of Displacement in Northeast India.” Journal of Refugee Studies 16(1): 44–66. doi:10.1093/jrs/16.1.44. Carey, William. 1919. A Garo Jungle Book; Or, the Mission to the Garos of ­A ssam. [With illustrations.]. Philadelphia, PA: Judson Press. Castel, Frederic (text), Franco Zecchin (Photography). 2002. “Inde: Voyage au pays de l’harmonie garo.” Geo 276: 48–60. de Maaker, Erik. 2013a. “Have the Mitdes Gone Silent? Conversion, Rhetoric, and the Continuing Importance of the Lower Deities in Northeast India.” In Asia in the Making of Christianity: Conversion, Agency, and Indigeneity, 1600s to the Present, edited by R. F. Young and J. A. Seitz, 135–162. Leiden: Brill. de Maaker, Erik. 2013b. “Performing the Garo Nation? Garo Wangala Dancing between Faith and Folklore.” Asian Ethnology 72(2): 221–239. Hagan, David. 2013. “Experiencing ancient animist culture in the Garo Hills (Meghalaya).” https://travellinfool.wordpress.com/the-travellin-fool-guide-tooff-the-beaten-track-india-the-best-places-and-experiences-on-a-low-budget/ experiencing-ancient-animist-culture-in-the-garo-hills-meghalaya/. Leach, Edmund R. 1977. Political Systems of Highland Burma: A Study of Kachin Social Structure, London School of Economics Monographs on Social Anthropology, No. 44. London: Athlone Press. Lehman, F. Kris. 1963. The Structure of Chin Society: A Tribal People of Burma Adapted to a Non-Western Civilization, Illinois Studies in Anthropology. ­Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Misra, Sanghamitra. 2011. Becoming a Borderland: The Politics of Space and Identity in Colonial Northeastern India. New Delhi: Taylor & Francis. Pearson, Thomas. 2009. Missions and Conversions: Creating the Montagnard-Dega Refugee Community. New York and Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Playfair, Alan. 1909. The Garos. London: David Nutt. Rajaram, Prem Kumar, and Carl Grundy-Warr. 2007. Borderscapes: Hidden ­Geographies and Politics at Territory’s Edge. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press; [Bristol: University Presses Marketing, distributor]. Ramirez, Philippe. 2013. “Ethnic Conversions and Transethnic Descent Groups in the Assam-Meghalaya Borderlands.” Asian Ethnology 72(2): 279–297. Ranjan, Rajiv, and V. P. Upadhyay. 1999. “Ecological Problems due to Shifting Cultivation.” Current Science 77(10): 1246–1250. Scott, James. 2009. The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of ­Upland Southeast Asia. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press.

24  Erik de Maaker Van Schendel, Willem. 2002. “Geographies of Knowing, Geographies of Ignorance: Jumping Scale in Southeast Asia.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 20: 647–668. doi:10.1068/d16s. Van Schendel, Willem, and Erik de Maaker. 2014. “Asian Borderlands: Introducing Their Permeability, Strategic Uses and Meanings.” Journal of Borderlands Studies 29(1): 3–9. Vandekerckhove, Nel. 2009. “We Are Sons of This Soil: The Dangers of Homeland Politics in India’s Northeast.” Critical Asian Studies 41(4): 523–548. Woods, Kevin. 2011. “Ceasefire Capitalism: Military–Private Partnerships, ­Resource Concessions and Military–State Building in the Burma–China Borderlands.” The Journal of Peasant Studies 38(4): 747–770. doi:10.1080/03066150. 2011.607699.

2 “Buluotuo Culture” The Zhuang oral traditions as performance Somrak Chaisingkananont

The Zhuang (the Tai-speaking people) is recognized as the largest of the 55 ethnic minority groups of the People Republic of China (PRC). This chapter focuses on the role of Zhuang minority scholars and elites as cultural producers. They have appropriated Zhuang oral traditions, such as religious chanting in rituals and ceremonies, ancient songs, farming songs, pose tales and folk songs about Buluotuo, and turned them into the state-sponsored “Buluotuo Cultural Tourism Festival” in Tianyang County, Guangxi – the southwestern province of China. The first part provides a brief review of the revival of Zhuang scholarship and the discovery of Buluotuo myths and scriptures. The next section delineates the way in which Zhuang elites select, reorganize and reinterpret myths of Buluotuo, ancestor worship rituals and festivals to create a new term “Buluotuo Culture” in the perspective of an intangible cultural heritage that can be developed into the local tourist economy with Zhuang cultural characteristics and the alternative narrative as the old siblings of Tai-speaking peoples in Southeast Asia. A common origin and shared ancestor are highlighted as meaningful ethnic markers that legitimize the group and reaffirm its sacred links to the past. The last part illustrates the individual agency of Zhuang ritual specialists and how they have negotiated and presented their marginalized cultural practices in the festival.

The discovery of Buluotuo myths and scriptures In the post-Mao era the Chinese Communist Party has promoted ethnic diversity as an emblem of Chinese national unity. “Traditional culture” has been endorsed as an alternative to “politics” to promote stability and dispel the ruptures and repressed memories of the Cultural Revolution. Nonetheless, shifting policy to a market economy, ethnic tourism has come to China in a big way and it is often promoted in minority regions as a way to create income for development. Minority artifacts and costumes were collected, displayed, and acquired economic value. The identities of minority groups came to be associated with very specific cultural markers approved by the state, according to the policy of “selective cultural preservation”.

26  Somrak Chaisingkananont Traumatized by the Cultural Revolution, the ethnic minority scholars in China no longer speak through the rhetoric of class struggle but instead have turned to gather the indigenous knowledge and tradition cultural practices that were destroyed during the Mao era. Minority scholars have actively created their fields of study and played a prominent role in speaking on behalf of their ethnic groups. In this context Zhuang studies had grown up, and scholars tend to construct a “long and glorious” history of the Zhuang to bolster the Zhuang’s own sense of pride and self-worth. In 1984, a huge publication project was launched throughout China. Folk songs, folk stories, folk proverbs, folk ballads, local opera music, folk dance and folk instrumental music of all nationalities were collected and compiled into the “10 Collections and Annals of Chinese/Folk Literature and Arts”. Collecting ancient texts and documenting oral traditions became a major task in Guangxi. Scholars and cultural workers in Guangxi were assigned to collect the orally transmitted folklores and folksongs as well as the poetry and stories that had been written down and preserved by Taoists, ritual masters and vernacular priests. The Guangxi Folk Literature and Art Association collected folk songs “Calling Valley Soul”, “Calling cattle soul”, etc. from libretto and the ritual scripture of vernacular priests. But because of the limits on public discussion of religion, the materials transmitted by vernacular priests that related to Buluotuo were represented indirectly as folk songs and popular literature. On fieldwork cultural workers began hearing plenty of folk stories, prose tales and ‘ancient songs’ (gu ge) about Buluotuo in the Hongshui River region and the Youjiang River region in the western part of Guangxi. Among these stories, the most famous one is of how Buluotuo outwitted his three brothers – the King of Thunder, the Serpent, the Tiger – became the king of the human realm. He was regarded as an apical ancestor of the Zhuang and a well-known trickster figure. There is still no academic consensus about exact meaning of ‘Buluotuo’ because his name is pronounced differently ­according to Zhuang sub-dialects, such as Bouq Luagh daeuz, Baeuq Loegdoh, Baeuq Roxdoh in Tianyang, and Bouslaoxdauz in Dejing dialect. In addition, a large-scale survey and extensive collection of materials in Guangxi was launched from 1986 until 1988. A total of 22 ritual scriptures were collected from the western highlands of Guangxi. In general, these scriptures are written in the ‘old Zhuang script’, cast in an archaic form of five-syllable verse, and “The Three Realms were established by the Three Kings, The Four Realms were created by the Four Kings”,1 appear in the opening formula of each scripture. According to folkloric evidence, Zhuang scholars interpreted that ‘the Four Kings’ refer to the King of Thunder,

1 Holm, David, 2004. Recalling Lost Souls: The Baeu Rodo Scriptures, Tai Cosmogonic Texts from Guangxi in Southern China. Bangkok: White Lotus.

“Buluotuo Culture”  27 the Serpent, the Tiger and Buluotuo. The content of texts appeared to be connected with Buluotuo and Muliujia, the apical ancestors of the Zhuang. In the realm of academia, the discoveries of librettos and the ritual scriptures about Buluotuo, written in old Zhuang script, 2 were very exciting because the content of the texts seemed to be very ancient and connected with the Zhuang indigenous religion. For this reason, these scriptures were translated by a group of specialists in the Guangxi Minority Ancient Manuscripts Editing Office. ‘The ­Buluotuo Scriptures – an Annotated Translation’ was published in 1991 as the textual heritage of the Zhuang. In brief, Buluotuo myth in the scriptures is a cosmogonic myth that ­describes the origins of the world, how the earth and sky were separated at the beginning of the world, how human beings found water, how fire was tamed, how rice was domesticated, etc. Nonetheless, the myths recounted how the earliest ancestors of the Zhuang, acting on the advice of Buluotuo, had established human institutions such as writing, chieftaincy, and family relations, and religious practices. Hence, scholars considered and interpreted Buluotuo as a progenitor of the Zhuang Nationality, who established the order of Zhuang Society. Zhuang studies scholars were arguing that Buluotuo scriptures contained moralities and modes of behavior consistent with the ideological demands of socialist modernization. Scholars highlighted the taboos and morality in the scriptures and emphasized harmony in the relationship between humans and nature, man and society, and among family members, while discarding some supernatural aspects. The publication of the ­Buluotuo scriptures was thus regarded as a source of great pride for Zhuang scholars and officials. Buluotuo was scholarly represented as the origin of Zhuang ethnic roots in order to enhance the Zhuang’s self-pride, without any purpose to commercialize it.

The development of “Buluotuo Culture” After the 1991 publication, there were a large number of articles analyzing the cultural implications and philosophical values of the Buluotuo ­scriptures and the mass media began to discuss about the Buluotuo site. Anyway, where the Buluotuo site is exactly located remains unknown and a mystery. Curiosity about the Buluotuo site was in the minds of urban-based Zhuang intellectual elites. In June 2002 Gudi, a famous Guangxi artist, went to Tianyang and heard about a folk tradition of paying homage to ancestors at the Zugong and Muniang shrines on the mountain and the local

2 This old Zhuang script was based on Chinese characters and borrowed semantic and phonetic components of Chinese characters to represent Zhuang words.

28  Somrak Chaisingkananont legends of Buluotuo from the director of Tianyang Museum. Regarding one Buluotuo epic that Gudi heard since he was young, it said that Buluotuo had his home in Andong. In history, Tianzhou Town, where Tianyang is now located, was called Anxu. Then, he came up with the idea that this mountain was the former home of Buluotuo. Gudi went back to Nanning and discussed with Dean of the Nanning International Folk Song Arts Institute and reporters of the Nanning Daily and Youjiang daily newspaper about his supposition of Buluotuo’s ancient home. They then sent newspaper reporters to go to Tianyang and interviewed the elders living near the mountain referred to in Buluotuo legends, Song Fair activities and ritual activities. After doing more documentary research about archaeological evidence that Youjiang Basin was the center of ancient human and rice cultivation, Mr. Xie, a news reporter, wrote the editorial message “The primogenitor of Zhuang nationality site found in Tianyang. Experts say could reveal the source of the eternal mystery of Zhuang Nationality” in Nanning daily newspaper. He also sent the news to the mainstream national media and websites, and unexpectedly attracted a strong response from others major news websites in China and abroad such as Hong Kong, Macao, Taiwan and many overseas Chinese newspapers and websites. Widespread acknowledgment of this news successfully aroused strong repercussions at home. The Tianyang Party Committee, county government and the Nanning International Folk Song Arts Institute invited famous ­experts and scholars to discuss and investigate the site. The mountain has been regarded by the local people as their sacred mountain. It is said that during the nineteenth day of the second lunar month till the ninth day of the third lunar month, there were many people from nearby counties who came to this mountain to offer sacrifices to ancestor spirits and chant worship songs in Zhuang’s unique style. After holding a series of seminars and on-site investigations, there still were many controversial opinions. The general feedback from scholars was that it was impossible to accurately determine the birthplace of Buluotuo because he is a legendary figure, not a real person who once lived somewhere. Buluotuo is only a personified concept. But all scholars agreed that Mt. Ganzhuang in Tianyang County was an important memorial place of Buluotuo and Muliujia, the Zhuang’s ancestors. Some main reasons are that ­ oreover, 14 epics of the Buluotuo Scripture were discovered in Tianyang. M the song fair here was recorded as the largest song fair in Guangxi. The cult to venerate Buluotuo and Muliujia by singing and burning incense is widespread. Enthusiasm for promoting the Buluotuo site initiated by artists and journalists seems to be compatible with the Tianyang government’s attempt to develop new cultural products for tourism. In 2003, a group of experts from the Guangxi Zhuang Studies Association went to do ethnological field research on Buluotuo and its relationship with Mt. Ganzhuang. They

“Buluotuo Culture”  29 ­ bserved the actual ceremony of ancestor worship and the song festival o at Mt. Ganzhuang and witnessed that more than a 100,000 local people actively participated in these activities. Hence, some Zhuang scholar proposed the term “Buluotuo cultural system” and defined as a system which includes Buluotuo mythology, Buluotuo epics, religious culture, ancestor worship culture, and the folk song fair culture of the Zhuang people. It has a rich connotation, important historical value, cultural and academic value. Ritual revival then became a key attraction for tourism promotion. Folk ritual practices must be repackaged by selecting some elements suited for display onstage, and then combined with artistic elements designed by an arts institution. Scholars agree that Buluotuo culture can be developed into the local tourist economy with Zhuang cultural characteristics. The site should be positioned as a sacred mountain and the spiritual homeland of the Zhuang people in order to show that the Zhuang have a long history, significant characteristics of rice culture, the culture of the song fair, pilgrimages, and a mysterious culture. Moreover, some have suggested that it can also be promoted as a famous brand via the China-ASEAN exposition to bridge international cultural exchange and cooperation, because Guangxi is being pushed by the Central Government to become a base and port for connecting southwest China with Southeast Asia countries. The decision of the Baise and Tianyang governments to develop Mt. Ganzhuang as a Buluotuo cultural tourism project was authenticated by a series of academic seminars and ethnological field research. The Guangxi Zhuang Studies Association has stepped in and take this opportunity to request financial support for conducting research on Buluotuo. Zhuang studies scholars have devotedly researched Zhuang language, folklore, history and traditional culture with the main aim to render the Zhuang to know themselves and have pride to be classified as the “Zhuang Nationality”. It has led to a new annual state-sponsored Buluotuo Cultural Festival on the 7th to 9th days of the third lunar month at Mt. Ganzhuang, held by the local government of Tianyang County since 2004. Elderly memories and unrecorded histories became the new source of narratives and identity at the song fair. In spite of different versions of folktales on Buluotuo and Muliujia, one version was selected to represent the origin of the mountain, worship tradition and song fair. Moreover, it came to an agreement that an academic conference on Buluotuo Culture will be held annually, paralleling the Buluotuo Cultural Festival. What the scholars of Zhuang studies agreed on was that Buluotuo is an important component of Zhuang culture which would vanish unless protected. The representation of the past through myths about Buluotuo and Muliujia which had been circulating and handed down from generation to generation in a number of different forms such as folklore, ancient song, and chanting in worship activities, should be defined as ‘cultural’

30  Somrak Chaisingkananont rather than ‘religious’, and so they proposed the term “Buluotuo Culture”. 3 These scholars believed that to treat Buluotuo beliefs in the perspective of an intangible cultural heritage could not only trace the inherent relationship between the Zhuang people and the national spirit of the Chinese, but would also be of great significance in carrying on the Zhuang spirit of harmonious relationships, enhancing national unity and fitting in with the new narrative of a “socialist spiritual civilization”. The discourse of preserving Intangible Cultural Heritage fundamentally altered its position from one of folk religious beliefs opposed to socialist atheist ideology, to one defined as a “traditional culture” of Zhuang ancestor worship. In 2006, Buluotuo culture was listed as the Zhuang’s intangible cultural heritage (ICH) at the national level4 and became unique tourist resource of Tianyang. Regarding the Chinese guiding principles for an intangible ­cultural heritage “protection as priority, rescue as primacy, rational utilization, and inheritance for development”, the authorities and enterprises can utilize and add initiatives for this festival. Therefore, Buluotuo myth, ­ancestor worship rituals and folksong festivals were repackaged as ­‘Buluotuo Culture’ and represented in the state-sponsored Buluotuo ­Cultural festival – a means to serve its politics and economic development.

The Buluotuo Cultural Festival: performances vs. traditions State intervention directly impacts the local festival in terms of regulation and representation. The Buluotuo Cultural Festival is redefined as new ­destination for leisure and tourism in Tianyang. At Mt. Ganzhuang, the worshipping activities became an integral part of the Festival. Every year in the opening ceremony, the representatives from several villages will be invited to be in the parade. We will see a scene that each group of villagers, primarily women wearing colorful costumes and carrying several kinds of offerings, follow the ritual specialists to offer their sacrifice in front of the statue of Buluotuo with a chanting worship song. The cadence of the worship songs was similar, but the lyrics seemed to be varied from group to group. After that, announcers invited honorable guests to venerate ­Buluotuo by burning incense and bowing three times.

3 Chinese state authorities still retain a negative attitude toward folk religious practices in local villages, which were labeled as “feudal-superstition”. In order to get support from the government, Zhuang religiosity has to be intertwined with the notion of Buluotuo Culture, which is safer than the problematic term of religion. 4 Zhang, Hong & Zhang, Ling. 2010. Protection and Innovation of Intangible Cultural Heritage – Buluotuo Festival. Paper Presented at the Fourth Annual Meeting of the UK Centre for Events Management, July 14–16. The protection of Intangible Cultural ­Heritages of ethnic minorities was officially launched in 2003 and will last until 2020. As for those listed as an intangible cultural heritage at the national level, the government provides a protection fund and specialized guidance.

“Buluotuo Culture”  31 What occurred at the pavilion seemed to encompass ancestral worship and antiphonal singing in an entirely new context according to the format of the officially modernized fair. This worship activity was put on display as an ethnic identity expression for media attention and the onlookers, which included scholars, guests and other villagers wearing normal shirts and slacks who were standing or sitting outside the police tape fencing. After the opening ceremonies, thousands of pilgrims climbed up the mountain to pay homage to deities. Throughout the way uphill, devotees put unburned incense and paper money along both sides of the stairs ­because the area would be under surveillance by policemen. Local businesses also arranged many booths to sell food, drink and things. The atmosphere around the precincts of Mt. Ganzhuang was full of vigor and quite noisy during the three-day festival. Many villagers took their families to cheer the sport of motorcycle racing while some enjoyed greeting their friends as well as playing the games. In my opinion, the ­festival has been a kind of seasonal festival which is determined by the lunar calendar and related to the agricultural seasons. Apart from the festival site, there was a stage performance at night at Tianyang’s city square where the performances of professional groups from Nanning were shown. The music, songs and dances were designed by the Nanning Folk Song Research Institute and a photo of the arch at Mt. G ­ anzhuang was used as the stage backdrop. The Buluotuo Festival at Mt. Ganzhuang has become well-known as a cultural brand of Tianyang through the development of tourism-related ­industries. It receives mass media acknowledgment, and the number of participants has increased over the years. For their part, the local communities are not passive either, and often seize upon tourism in order to display their existence and obtain benefits. Villagers living near the site flattened their sugar cane field into a parking lot for motorcycles and they earned a lot of money during the festival, more than their yearly income from the ­plantation. From the years of 2007 to 2011 that I observed, the festival has changed over the years in terms of actors, activities and regulations. The authorities have taken overt steps to apply some control over the festival. For example, in 2007 worshippers were able to put their sticks of burnt incense along the bridge, beside the pond area, and at the middle of the stairs along the path all the way up the mountain. In 2009 I recognized landscape changes and prominent billboards of safety regulations such as “please pay attention not to causing fires. Burning joss sticks, smoking and littering cigarette ends are strictly prohibited except designated places where tourists can”. In order to monitor safety, local police have been assigned to guard the site during the daytime so that the tourists and worshippers follow the regulations. But during the late evening until early morning, the enterprise hired a group of villagers from nearby hamlets to guard and clean the site. Confronted with the state’s superiority, villagers have adopted a number of pragmatic strategies to cope with the new rules and regulations.

32  Somrak Chaisingkananont From the commoners’ perspective, the burning of incense is very crucial as a sacrificial offering to a god or deity. The prohibition against burning incense undermined the sacredness of the ritual as defined in local terms. So, instead of attending the Festival during the day, a huge number of ­worshippers would come in the late evening because they wanted to burn incense. The villagers who guarded the site would take the leftover incense and wet them. They believe that the incense smoke provides a link between the living and the deities in order to procure their blessings. Many villagers themselves earned money from selling joss sticks and other things to the worshippers during the night. Another interesting strategy that local villagers negotiate with local authorities is the appropriation of the Buluotuo narrative for local uses, as can be seen from the case of Moma hamlet. Moma hamlet is a part of Fengma village in Tianzhou. It is located along the Youjiang River, the main transportation route in the past. There is a ­legend related with Buluotuo and Muliujia circulating in this village also. But in this legend, Buluotuo seems to be a man who had supernatural powers but was not a god. There was no ritual space to worship Buluotuo in the village. Instead, there was an over 200-year-old archaic temple which was a sacred space of the village. Villagers have kept up strong faith for their temple; they rebuilt the simple temple in a normal home style from 1958. During religious suppression, villagers would silently venerate “mother goddess” at their homes by turning to the direction that the temple was located. In Fengma village, the memory of those rituals and local traditions was strong enough to re-establish the temple in its archaic style when it became possible. The state-sponsored Buluotuo Festival ushered in a renewal of community celebrations in Tianyang. By having some Buluotuo and Muliujia legends, the representatives of Fengma village were also invited to participate in the Buluotuo Festival. Fengma village has wisely appropriated the Buluotuo Festival as their cultural space in order to unify their villagers. In order to attend the parade at Mt. Ganzhuang, a school teacher of Moma composed a Buluotuo worship song and taught a group of female devotees to chant the song at night after they finished their farm work and housework. They prepared their costumes for the parade and rehearsed the dragon dance in unison. The youth also formed a team to join the Lion Dance Competition at Mt. Ganzhuang. Participating at the Festival for several years in a way ensured the villagers that the state authorities would permit their “traditional religious ceremonies”. In 2007 local people voluntarily contributed money to reconstruct a big new temple in an elaborately archaic style. The temple is a collective village property and run by a temple committee which consists of ordinary villagers. After the temple renovation, Fengma villagers have experienced a miraculous result of rapid economic growth and success. In the 2011 Buluotuo Festival, the representatives of Moma hamlet not only participated in the parade and opening ceremony but also performed

“Buluotuo Culture”  33 the traditional “hua lou” ritual at Mt. Ganzhuang. The bumo recited the scripture while the people were walking across the flower bridge and passed through under a horse. The villagers lined up at both sides of the bridge and played musical instruments. The ritual aims to dispel disasters and give blessings for well-being, safety and prosperity. At the exit, ritual participants may donate small amounts of money. The donation money is to be used for temple activities. According to my interviews, it was the second year that a troupe of Moma representatives performed this traditional Zhuang ritual. The bumo Huang who performed the ritual was 32 years old. He was famous among the outsider/merchants who came to buy agricultural products in Tianyang because of the miraculous nature of his rituals. He was requested to serve the village by performing the ritual at Mt. Ganzhuang free of charge (interviewed on May 2011). Not only bumo, a young female ritual specialist in the community is also requested to lead the chanting at Mt. Ganzhuang. A Moma spokesman told me that there are several female ritual specialists in the village but the cadres selected this one to pair with the bumo Huang in order to produce the image of young and energetic representatives of the villages. One positive shift in the value of Zhuang Buluotuo culture and tradition for tourism development in Tianyang is that it has actually become part of the essential cultural expression of the local culture. The Moma spokesman told me that the main purpose for performing the ritual at Mt. Ganzhuang is to promote the cultural place of the community. When tourists come to Mt. Ganzhuang, they can also visit the temple at Moma, and/or enjoy swimming in the Youjiang River in front of the temple. In short, the case of Fengma village is an excellent example of appropriation of the official place-making discourse for local uses. A modernizing China has appeared to have affected the interpretation of the Buluotuo festival. Participants from Fengma Village interpret the festival through their myths and their political units.

Conclusion The project of Buluotuo Cultural Tourism development is a state-sponsored project. While scrutinizing the strategies of Zhuang intellectuals and local state agencies in promoting Buluotuo culture as a Zhuang intangible ­cultural heritage, we must focus on the power relations and conditions that allow some groups to claim positions to speak. The central government of the CCP is the highest position. Although scholars and local governments have their own different agenda, they have to communicate with the CCP by using acceptable rhetoric. They hence proclaimed the agenda of the strategy is to accelerate the economic and social development of Tianyang and to promote cultural and economic ties between China and ASEAN. To conclude, Buluotuo myth “debates” are culturally organized and structured

34  Somrak Chaisingkananont to reclaim their “lost” traditions due to leftist mistakes during the Cultural Revolution. It is a new quest and endeavor in the modernization process of traditional Zhuang culture. These contemporary interactions, mixed with new situations and evolving ethnic identities, offer a terrain that the Zhuang intellectuals are able to negotiate with the Chinese state and play role in representing their own identities in national and international level. Moreover, the development of the Buluotuo Cultural Tourism Festival at Mt. Ganzhuang of Tianyang County demonstrates that some Zhuang individuals today are achieving a new public voice and are actively participating in the construction and reconstruction of Zhuang identity in the larger public sphere. Ethnographic research reveals that although the authorities have control over how the ritual practices of ritual specialists and commoners should be performed during state-sponsored festivals, female ritual specialists and devotees have continued to re-negotiate power relations, either by cooperation with the state or contestation over state intervention, and create their own spaces in which they are able to perform ritual practices in their own way. The worship place at Mt. Ganzhuang has become a site of struggle between the local authorities and the folk religious worshippers who battle over the right to worship their deities. Culture produced by tourism has actually become part of the essential cultural expression of local cultures as well as local identities and rights. More interestingly, many people have interpreted the state’s appropriation of their sacred space and local pilgrimage as a legitimization of their ritual practices. The presence of elder women, female worshippers and the representatives of villages in the parade should not be undervalued as a colorful element of the Festival, but it is evidence of their persistence to ­religious faith in a changing China. I agree with Schein that they actively engage in producing representations of themselves and they are “not only the objects of representation, but are themselves cultural producers” (Schein, 2000 )5. Singing and chanting in the traditional Zhuang style is a means to recall their memories and experiences of enduring the state suppression of folk religious practices. They regard the Buluotuo festival as a platform to express their ethnic-religious identities and cultural memories. They also create their own strategies for dealing with innovations, as well as maintaining a continuity with their past cultural ideas.

5 Schein, Louisa. 2000. Minority Rules: The Miao and the Feminine in China’s Cultural Politics. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, p. 31.

3 Northeast India and Southeast Asia Rediscovering a cultural lineage through folklores Saji Varghese The hills of northeast India are inhabited by about 200 Tibeto-Burman language speaking tribal communities, with the single exception of an Austro-­ Asiatic (Mon-Khmer) language speaking tribe (the Khasis of Meghalaya state). According to James Scott’s explosive 2009 proposition, these highlanders and the hilly landmass ‘stretching from Vietnam in the east to India’s northeast in the west’ are called Zomia (roughly ‘highlanders/highlands’). This region of Southeast Asia “comprises about one hundred million minority people, spanning over nine nation-states, or rather the peripheries of these states, as Zomia, indicates hill areas above the altitude of three hundred meters.”1 The region is a large site of migration, historically. Different studies, however, have substantiative, divergent claims to this phenomenon of migration. Northeast India represents an ethnological transition zone between India and neighbouring China, Myanmar, Bhutan and Bangladesh. There had been waves of migration of various ethnic groups to the region. The original home of these groups was in western China near the Yang-tse Kiang and the Huang Ho rivers from which they came down the courses of the Brahmaputra, the Chindwin and the Irrawaddy and entered Northeast India and Burma.2 There were four historically recognized routes through which India was connected with China.3 (i) the Central Asian Route or the Silk Route, (ii) the route of Assam [Assam-Upper Burma] or the famous Southern Silk Route, (iii) the route 1 Bengt G. Karlsson, “Evading the State: Ethnicity in Northeast India through the Lens of James Scott.” Asian Ethnology 72:2 (2013, pp. 321–331), p. 322. The name ‘Mizo’ (Mi=highland; Zo=people), one of the northeast Indian groups of tribes, also means ‘Zo-mi’ as Scott recognizes (James C. Scott, The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2009, p. 16). Scott’s use of the term ‘Zomia’ is borrowed from: Willem van Schendel, “Geographies of Knowing, Geographies of Ignorance: Jumping Scale in Southeast Asia.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 20:6 (2002, pp. 647–668). 2 Birinchi Kumar Barua, Cultural History of Assam (Early period), vol. 1. Guwahati: Lawyer’s Book Stall, 1969, p. 8, Ethnic and Cultural Ties between Northeast India and China: Insights from the Past. 3 Nag Kalidas, Greater India. Calcutta: Institute of Asian-African Relations, 1960, pp. 196–197.

36  Saji Varghese of Tibet-Nepal, and (iv) the sea routes or the so-called Maritime Silk Routes. Ethnic and Cultural Ties between Northeast India and China: ­I nsights from the Past. Migration in the trans-Himalayan regions is, in fact, quiet complex. The ‘Thai Kadai’ ethnic group migrated from the Nanzhou region of South China. It forms today the most significant ethnological grouping all of Southeast Asia extending from the Brahmaputra to the Gulf of Tonkin, and then to Yunnan and Guangxi, and southward as far as the Kedah state of Malaysia and Myanmar.4 Another systematic study points to Northeast India as a corridor for the migration to the Southeast Asia. The results of this research suggest that the Austro-Asiatic Khasi tribes of Northeast India represent a genetic continuity between the populations of South and Southeast Asia, thereby advocating that northeast India could have been a major corridor for the movement of populations from India to East/Southeast Asia.5 However, my interest in this chapter lies in pointing out a cultural lineage between some communities of Southeast Asia with the Northeast in particular. The lineage possibly is already an established fact too. I wish to cite here some of the popular folklores among Khmer community and the tribal communities of Northeast India. Myths and folktales are integral part of tribal society and provide valuable sources of knowledge about them. They act as vehicles for expressing the ideas and the ethos of the culture of that society. All or majority of these folktales have characters or components which are directly linked to nature, i.e. animals, birds, trees, rivers, mountains which points to the implicit belief that man, animals and nature are all interconnected is found embedded in many of the mythologies and folktales. The folktales in a way suggest a kind of environmental ethics, though they don’t belong to a scientifically established ethical or philosophical methods/doctrines.

Folklores from Zeliangrong Naga community According to their myth, they believed that the Supreme Father God (“Ragwang” the king of gods) created the heavens including the universe and then man as special creation more so by his divine creative powers and partly by his authorizing heavenly or supernatural agents. The heavenly God willed to create the gods, universe, nature and mankind. He first created two 4 Ray Haraprasad, “Trade Routes from Northeast India and Bangladesh to South and Southwest China: Some Suggestions for an Integrated Economic Development of the Region.” Asian Studies XVIII:1&2 (2000, p. 113). 5 Bishav Mohan Reddy, Banrida T. Langstieh, Vikrant Kumar, Nagaraja Theeya, A. N. S. Reddy, et al. “Austro-Asiatic Tribes of Northeast India Provide Hitherto Missing Genetic Link between South and Southeast Asia.” PLoS ONE 2:11 (2007, e1141). doi:10.1371/ journal.pone.0001141.

Cultural lineage through folklores  37 primeval god and goddess, didimpu and didimpui. They created the sun, the moon, the stars, the water, the wind, fire, earth and seven layers of the earth, the seven layers of water and seven layers of the sky according to the will of God. For the Zeliangrong, the earth and everything in it was created by God. The earth was created by the creative agents by the order of the Supreme God. The earth was created for man, animals and living beings to live. The Supreme God also ordered the creative agents (dampopui and dampopu) to make man/“mansei” (mansei; this is a common noun for both man and woman). The two heavenly deities prayed to the Supreme God for advice, so, God revealed to them that His image be adopted as a model for creating man. Male and female were moulded in shape from the dust/clay (clay of an anthill) of the earth. But they reported the Supreme God that there was no life in them. So the Supreme God himself breathed his life-soul on them through the nostril (head) that they began to have life.6

Folklores from Ao Naga community A popular myth exists among the Aos regarding the creation of the earth. Lizaba, who is regarded as the supreme god, is credited to be the creator of the earth and everything in it. The myth goes on to say that he worked steadily to make the plains smooth and neatly. But as he was about to start making the area where the Naga Hills are now, a water-beetle shouted out the alarm that enemies were approaching. Upon hearing this, Lizaba had to work in a terrible hurry and had time only to make the hills roughly. That is why it is believed that the Naga Hills are mountainous and rough while the Assam area is plain and smooth. This myth brings to the fore the belief of the Ao Nagas that the earth and everything in it has its origin in a supreme being and must be therefore treated with respect and consideration. A folktale that brings out the interconnectedness believed to exist between plants and man is the story of the girl and her tree lover. In a village there was a man who had a beautiful daughter; she had many suitors but she refused their proposal. She had given her heart to a young man, who visited her every night in her dormitory and left before dawn. During daytime she looked in vain for her lover but could not find him anywhere. At last, she told her parents about this. Her father determined to find out, kept watch at night outside the dormitory. In the morning, when the young man left,

6 Ramkhun Pamei, The Zeliangrongs. New Delhi: Uppal Publications, 1996, pp. 20–50. Gangmumei Kamei, Tingkao Ragwang Chapriak: The Zeliangrong Primordial Religion. Imphal, 2005, p. 7. Gangmumei Kamei, A History of the Zeliangrong Nagas (From Makhel to Rani Gaidinliu). Guwahati/Delhi: Spectrum Publications, 2004, p. 25. Source: Grace Darling, “Environmental Ethics of Zeliangrong Naga Tribe.” In Nature, Culture and Philosophy: Indigenous Ecologies of North East India, ed. Saji Varghese (New Delhi: Lakshi Publishers, 2014, pp. 158–185).

38  Saji Varghese he followed him. The young man instead of going to the men’s dormitory went outside the village gate, down to the village spring, where he turned into a big tree. When it was fully light, the father along with relatives and friends, decided to cut down the tree. They cut and cut but the tree would not fall. At last it came down with a crash. As they cut a wood chip flew far towards the house where the daughter was peeping through the wall. The chip struck her brain through her eye and she died there. The tree was a süngwar tree (botanical tree). The tree is believed to be the being of the Pongen clan of the Aos and thus till today the belief exist that no member of this clan should sleep on a bed made of this wood. The traditional Ao Nagas believed that animals and plants have souls. This belief led them to first offer sacrifices and apologies to the soul of a tree, before it was cut down. This kind of folktale exemplifies the inherent belief the Aos had regarding the relation man had with nature; that it is not only human beings, but plants, trees have also life of their own and possess intrinsic value; therefore respect, consideration should be shown to these elements of nature accordingly. Another folktale which brings out the interrelatedness believed to exist between man and animals is the story of why rats eat the rice. There was a time when man did not know rice. One day the rat told man that it will give him a present if man promises to give a decent burial to the rat when it dies. The man agreed to this; so the rat showed man how good the rice was to eat. After sometime, the rat decided to test the man and it lay down near the bank of a stream, pretending to be dead. The man came along with his son, and when the son pointed out the ‘dead’ rat, the man instead of keeping his promise told his son to poke a stick and push the dead rat into the stream. Upon hearing this, the rat jumped up in anger and told the man that in return for his ‘faithfulness’ it will always eat his rice first and leave his droppings in it. The obvious moral of this story is the importance of keeping ones promise. However, behind this obviousness is the deeper thought about the interconnectedness between man and animals, how the harmonious relationship was broken by man’s selfishness and greed.7

A Cambodian folktale Many Cambodian folktales concern animals who are very clever and show great ingenuity. Judge Rabbit is a character which often appears in Cambodian folktales. A long time ago in the kingdom of Cambodia, a young man fell in love with a young woman and so he set off to ask her parents

7 Source: Bendanginla, “Environmental Ethics of Ao Nagas.” In Nature, Culture and Philosophy: Indigenous Ecologies of North East India, ed. Saji Varghese (New Delhi: Lakshi Publishers, 2014).

Cultural lineage through folklores  39 for permission to marry her. “If you want the hand of our daughter in marriage,” said the parents, then you must first undergo an ordeal. Your legs must be bound and you must be submerged up to your neck in the water of a lake for three days and three nights. However cold you may be, you must not move to warm yourself. If you survive this trial of your courage then you may have the hand of our daughter in marriage. The young man agreed to the ordeal and so he was tied up and submerged in the water. After he had been standing in the lake for two days and two nights, he looked up and saw a fire burning on top of a hill some way off. By now he was tired and cold. He lifted his hands out of the water and held them up towards the distant flames. At that moment the girl’s parents came down to the water and saw what he was doing. They decided that he was trying to warm himself with the flames from the distant hill and so he had not fulfilled their conditions. They refused to give him their daughter in marriage. The young man was very angry about this and went off to lay a complaint before a Magistrate. The official invited the girl’s parents to come and be judged. The parents agreed and because they were rich, they were able to give the Magistrate several presents. However, the young man was poor and gave nothing to the Magistrate, who then pronounced the judgement. “The young man broke the conditions of the ordeal by warming himself. He has lost his case. He cannot marry this girl. In addition, he must repay the defendants by preparing a banquet for us all.” When the young man heard this judgement he was very angry and upset and went off complaining bitterly. On the way home he ran into Judge Rabbit. “Why are you so miserable, Brother?” asked Judge Rabbit. The young man told him the whole story as it had happened. “Where are you off to now, Brother?” asked Judge Rabbit. “I have to go and prepare the banquet,” replied the young man. “Ah” said Judge Rabbit, Go ahead and prepare the feast; then come and fetch me and take me along to the meal as well. I will win the case for you for sure if you do what I say. When you prepare the meal, make the soup without any salt in it. Put the salt by itself in a separate dish. The young man was very happy when he knew that Judge Rabbit would help him. He went off to prepare the banquet, making sure the soup had no salt as he had been told. Then he went along with Judge Rabbit, to offer food to the Magistrate and the parents. The Magistrate saw Judge Rabbit coming and asked him: “Brother Rabbit, what have you come here for?” “I have come to help you with this trial” said Judge Rabbit. “Ahh,” said the Magistrate, “Then why not stop and have a meal with us?”

40  Saji Varghese When the banquet was served, the Magistrate was the first to start the meal. He took two mouthfuls of the soup and then called out, “Well, why is it that this soup is not salted?” Judge Rabbit quickly answered him, The fire burning on top of the hill, far away from the young man was supposed to warm him up. How is it that the salt for the soup, which is placed far from the soup does not flavor the soup? The Magistrate was embarrassed and was silent. The case was reversed and the young man was declared to have won his action and married the couple’s daughter immediately.

Vietnamese folktale: the peasant, the buffalo and the tiger Once upon a time, a peasant was working in his rice field with his water buffalo, at a time when buffalo had sharp teeth like all the other beasts of the world. A tiger crept up to the water buffalo and said: I don’t come as an enemy. I just want to ask you something. I have seen you every day without your seeing me. Hidden in the bushes, I have watched the curious spectacle of your toil. How does it come about that Man, this little and upright being without great strength, with no piercing sight and no sense of smell, manages to lead you and make you work for him, you who are ten times bigger and much more powerful than he? The water buffalo replied: “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. Yet I can never free myself from his mastery. I know only that he is in possession of a talisman called intelligence.” So the tiger resolved to ask the peasant for some of his intelligence. But when the tiger asked, the peasant told him: “Excuse me, sir. I’ve left it at home. Nobody ever brings it along with him when working in the field. Besides, I have so little of it for myself that I cannot impart any of it to you.” When the tiger insisted, the peasant relented and said he would get his intelligence from the village, but that he would have to tie up the tiger as insurance against him eating his water buffalo. The tiger agreed to this, and the peasant bound the tiger to a tree. The peasant went to the village and returned with bundles of straw, which he piled around the tiger and set ablaze. “There it is, my intelligence,” shouted the peasant as the tiger roared in pain and rage. The water buffalo laughed so hard at the sight of this spectacle that he whacked his head against a rock and broke out all of his teeth. Water buffalo have never had upper teeth since that day. Eventually the ropes holding the tiger burned up, and the cat leapt free and dashed into the jungle. Bits of burning straw stuck to his skin and left long black

Cultural lineage through folklores  41 scorch marks. This is how the tiger got his stripes. (The tiger regains his dignity in a subsequent story titled “The Toad and the Rain,” in which the cat takes part in a toad-led expedition to convince the Emperor of Heaven to end a punishing drought.)8

Folktale of Japan Momotarō is one of the most loved folktales in Japan as well as one of the most well-known. The name “Momotaro” literally means “Peach Taro,” which is a name suffix often seen in Japan. You may have heard the story translated as “Peach Boy.” According to the present form of the tale (dating to the Edo period), Momotarō came to Earth inside a giant peach, which was found floating down a river by an old, childless woman who was washing clothes there. The woman and her husband discovered the child when they tried to open the peach to eat it. The child explained that he had been sent by Heaven to be their son. The couple named him Momotarō, from momo (peach) and tarō (eldest son in the family). Years later, Momotarō left his parents to fight a band of marauding oni (demons or ogres) on a distant island. En route, Momotarō met and befriended a talking dog, monkey and pheasant, who agreed to help him in his quest. At the island, Momotarō and his animal friends penetrated the demons’ fort and beat the band of demons into surrendering. Momotarō and his new friends returned home with the demons’ plundered treasure and the demon chief as a captive. Momotarō and his family lived comfortably from then on. “Bunbuku Chagama” means “happiness bubbling over like a teapot” (something like “my cup runneth over”). It is about a tanuki, a raccoon dog, who is rescued by a poor man and thus decides to reward him. Tanuki are said to have shape-shifting powers, which are used in this story. The story tells of a poor man who finds a tanuki caught in a trap. Feeling sorry for the animal, he sets it free. That night, the tanuki comes to the poor man’s house to thank him for his kindness. The tanuki transforms itself into a chagama (tea kettle) and tells the man to sell him for money. The man sells the tanuki-teapot to a monk, who takes it home and, after scrubbing it harshly, sets it over the fire to boil water. Unable to stand the heat, the tanuki teapot sprouts legs and, in its half-transformed state, makes a run for it.9 8 The first book, The Peasant, the Buffalo, and the Tiger: Vietnamese Legends and Tales. Edited by Huu Ngoc and Hoa Mai, (1997) http://thingsasian.com/story/ vietnamese-fold-tales-peasant-buffalo-and-tiger. 9 Source: wikipedia.org.

42  Saji Varghese

A folktale from Myanmar The magic powder Once upon a time, in a little village on the banks of the Irrawaddy River, there lived a young woman called Thuza. She was very happily married to handsome young Theingi. But there was one problem that nagged Thuza – her husband believed he was an alchemist and would spend all his time dreaming about ways to turn dirt into gold. All day, and for days on end, Theingi spent his time in experiments, searching for a breakthrough. Soon, all their money was over, and young Thuza had to struggle to buy food for the two of them. She became very worried. “You should find a job soon,” she pleaded with her husband. “We cannot continue like this!” But Theingi wouldn’t listen. “I’m on the verge of a breakthrough! Why do I have to work when we will be rich beyond our wildest dreams? We will soon be able to turn all the dirt we find into gold!” Disheartened, Thuza approached her father, wise old Thet, for a solution. Thet was surprised when he heard that his son-in-law was an alchemist. He thought for a while and asked to see Theingi. Thuza returned home happily that day, for she knew her wise father would have a solution. The next day, Theingi arrived at his father-in-law’s house, fully prepared for a scolding. He was taken by surprise when Thet took him aside and whispered, “When I was young like you, I was an alchemist too!” The two of them spent the whole afternoon discussing Theingi’s work. Finally, the old man stood up and said, Why Theingi, you’ve done everything exactly like I did when I was your age! You are definitely on the verge of a breakthrough! Congratulations! But you seem to be lacking one very important ingredient in your experiments. You will need this when you finally turn dirt to gold. Only recently did I discover this. But I am too old for this task. It requires enormous effort… “Then let me do it for you, Father!” cried Theingi. He was really excited. All his efforts would pay off at last. “Tell me what the ingredient is!” “Good, you are excited!” said Thet. He leaned closer and whispered, Son, the secret ingredient is a silver powder that is found only on banana leaves. You will have to plant the bananas yourself and cast certain spells on them. Then, as the plants grow, the powder on the leaves will gain magical powers. “How much of this powder will we need, Father?” asked Theingi excitedly. “A kilo,” replied Thet.

Cultural lineage through folklores  43 “A kilo!” cried Theingi. “That would require hundreds of banana plants!” “I’m afraid so, Son,” said the old man. “That is why I can’t complete the task myself…” “Don’t lose heart, Father!” said Theingi. “I shall!” Later that evening, the old man taught his son-in-law the magic spells and loaned him the money to start the work. The very next day, Theingi bought a small field near his home and cleared it. Just as he had been instructed, he dug the ground himself and planted the saplings after carefully chanting the magic spells. Every day he went to the field and examined the saplings. He kept the weeds and pests away diligently. When the plants grew and bore fruit, he carefully collected the silver powder from the leaves and kept it safely in a box. There was hardly any powder on each leaf, so Theingi had to buy more land and grow more bananas. But he was determined to do what was needed. It took him several years, but at the end of it all, he had managed to collect enough of the magic powder. He rushed to his father-in-law, excited as never before. He would soon be able to make gold from mere dirt! “Father, finally… here is the kilo of magic powder!” he cried. The old man was filled with joy. “Wonderful!” he said. “Wonderful! You’ve done well, Theingi. I’m proud of you. Now I will show you how to turn dirt into gold. But first, let’s get Thuza. We need her help.” Theingi was a little puzzled, but without losing any time, he ran to his wife and was soon back with her. “Thuza,” asked the old man, “what did you do with the bananas when your husband was collecting the powder?” “Why, I sold them, Father,” replied Thuza. “That’s how we earned a living.” “Then you must have been able to save some money too. Theingi grew more than enough bananas…” the old man continued. “Yes, I did,” replied Thuza. “Can we see it?” asked Thet. “Of course, I have kept it safely at home,” beamed Thuza. The three of them went to Theingi’s house where Thuza produced several bags from the loft where she had kept them safely. Thet opened one of the bags, peered inside, and smiled. He then emptied one of the bags on the table. Gold coins tinkled as they fell in a huge, shiny heap. Then he went to the field and came back with a handful of dirt, which he placed next to the heap of gold. “You see, Theingi,” he said, turning to his son-in-law, “you have changed dirt into gold!” Never after that day did Theingi collect any more magic powder from the leaves. But he continued to grow bananas. His “alchemist” father-in-law had taught him the best way to turn dirt into gold, after all. He didn’t need the magic powder any more.10

10 Folktales from Myanmar Published By Pratham Books.

44  Saji Varghese

A Thai folktale There was a deer being hunted by a hunter. The deer hid inside a thick bush so the hunter could not see it. The hunter then walked away. The deer having hid inside the bush found that the leaves inside were very tasty so he ate and ate the leaves, so much that the leaves were almost gone. The deer was then exposed because there were so few leaves. The hunter returned to the bush and found the deer. He then shot the deer to death.11

A Khmer folk tale Once upon the time, there were two brothers. The elder brother was rich and the younger brother was very poor. The younger brother earned his living as a woodcutter. One day, the woodcutter went into a deep forest to cut wood. After getting enough wood, the man felt exhausted and climbed up a shrine built to the forest spirit to sleep. The forest spirit took very pity on that woodcutter because he saw him come to sleep in the shrine every day. On the other hand, the woodcutter was honest, gentle and respectful. He always swept clean the area around the shrine every day. When the woodcutter was sleeping the forest spirit made him dream of him (the forest spirit), saying: “You must climb the high mountain near my shrine. When you arrive at the top, you’ll see a piece of rock. Then, you must say to that rock: “The door! Open, the door! Open.” You must enter that door when the door opens. Don’t be afraid when you see a lot of evil spirits with horrible appearances approaching you. Remember! When you go up the mountain you have to bring along a bundle of food and cakes to give out to those evil spirits to eat. Once they eat their fill they will bring you gold and diamonds, but you must not take them. Instead, you must ask them for a magic millstone because the magic millstone will be able to produce whatever you want. When the magic millstone sufficiently produces what you want from it and you want it to stop, you must tell the millstone: “It’s enough! It’s enough!” because it will not stop if you use other words besides these.” “There is another thing that you must remember,” the forest spirit said adding, “When you have taken that magic millstone, you have to say to the rock: “The door! Close, the door! Close” so as not to enrage those evil spirits.” The woodcutter woke up and looked here and there for a moment before realizing that he had had a dream. He thought: “Perhaps, Lok Ta (He referred to the forest spirit) told me the truth exactly like in the dream.” 11 https://www.gotoknow.org/posts/471085. (Translated to English by Prof. Soraj Hongladoram, Centre for Ethics of Science and Technology, Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok, Thailand).

Cultural lineage through folklores  45 Then, he carried firewood to his home and told his wife to sell the firewood and buy food and cakes with the money as he had to get up early tomorrow morning to go up the mountain. His wife was a good woman. She did not ask him any questions as she thought it was so secret that her husband did not tell her anything. In the early morning, she bundled up food and cakes and gave the bundle to her husband. The woodcutter received the bundle from his wife and said: “Don’t go anywhere, today. I’ll probably come back in the afternoon, my dear.” The woodcutter exactly followed the forest spirit’s instructions given to him in his dream. When he got to the top of the mountain, he saw a big rock and said to the rock: “The door! open, the door! Open.” The big rock then opened. While he was walking into the cave, the woodcutter saw a lot of evil spirits with horrible appearances running toward him. The woodcutter kept fishing food and cakes out of his bundle and gave them to those evil spirits until he ran out of the food and cakes. After having eaten their fill, the evil spirits were very happy and they brought gold and diamonds for the woodcutter, but the woodcutter refused to take them. Then, the evil spirits said: “You do not take gold and diamonds, so what do you want?” The woodcutter said: “I want the magic millstone. Could you give it to me?” Those evil spirits went to bring the magic millstone for him. The woodcutter got the magic millstone and walked out of the cave, but he did not forget to say to the rock: “The door! Close, the door! Close.” The rock door then closed as before. In the afternoon, the woodcutter carried the magic millstone home. His wife came out to take it from him to keep in the home. She said: “Where have you brought this millstone? I first thought it would be a valuable thing. We have already had one and why did you buy one more?” The woodcutter told his wife not to tell other people about the millstone because it was not an ordinary millstone and that it was the magic millstone which the forest spirit had given him. The wife said: “Have you eaten anything? There has been nothing left for us to eat today. I ate only vegetables because the money earned from selling firewood yesterday was used to buy food and cakes for you.” The husband said: “Don’t be worried, my dear. From today on, we will not be starving anymore. Now, our millstone will produce what we want.” Hearing that, the wife told her husband to tell the millstone to produce food as they had not had lunch yet. The husband said to the millstone as instructed in his dream: “Oh! The magic millstone! We need cooked rice.” The millstone started turning round and round, producing magic hot cooked rice. Seeing that, the wife went to get plates for putting the rice. When they had got enough cooked rice, the husband told the magic millstone to produce food to eat with rice. Then, the millstone turned round and round, producing magic food. Having had

46  Saji Varghese enough food to eat, the husband said to the millstone: “It’s enough! It’s enough!” Then, the magic millstone stopped. From then on, the husband and the wife had a good house to live in and all kinds of household utensils like other people, but not beyond their ­ability because they were not too greedy. As for the rich man who was the woodcutter’s elder brother, after he had seen his younger brother get better-off, he sent people to spy for him to know where his younger brother had got the wealth from. When he knew that his younger brother had the magic millstone, he became greedier and greedier and wanted to get richer and richer. In the silence of the night, he secretly came to his younger brother’s house to steal the magic millstone. He was then afraid that his younger brother might have known about it, so he had put the magic millstone in a sailing ship and sailed to the middle of the sea where the ship was later anchored. He thought: “I’ll order this magic millstone to produce what the people need to use more than anything else everyday to sell for money so that I will become the only millionaire in the world.” He then thought that there was only salt because at that time, there was not much salt in the world. The sea water was all fresh and people took salt from under the ground. Struck by that thought, the rich man ordered the magic millstone to produce salt. The magic millstone kept producing salt till the salt filled the ship. The rich man did not know the words to stop the magic millstone. The magic millstone kept producing more and more salt until it sank the ship, killing all the people on board. The magic millstone sank to the bottom of the sea and kept producing salt till the present time. That’s why the sea water becomes salty and it is different from the waters in other rivers and lakes.12 The folktales of different communities of Southeast Asia in general and of North-East India are windows to their culture and way of life of the then society. Certainly, many stories are talking about hunting, fishing, trapping animals for a meal which hints perhaps of times during pre-­agricultural settlements. These folktales places us at close quarters with the natural environment in its most ‘pure’ form and with ‘simple’ characters mostly animals, at times appearance of strange spirits, must be of prehistoric times since animist beliefs preceded the arrival in Southeast Asia in the early ­centuries of the era of Buddhism and Brahmanism. Many of the tales of Southeast Asian communities have influence of Indian beliefs of Hindu ­Deities both male and female. Animal stories, some are concerned with only animals others involving human too, in the corpus. Animals are humanized as they are able to think and talk. In some, the dangerous animals like tiger and crocodile are pictured in a false light; they run away at the sight of a hare. Crocodile is sometimes shown as a pet of human and

12 https://mcnnews.wordpress.com/2007/09/29/the-magic-millstone/#more-52. The Magic Millstone Translated from Khmer by Chhim Chan Bora.

Cultural lineage through folklores  47 live with him in the house. Whatever be the situation or picturization they all are within a moral site which has eroded in a fast phase. The sensibilities with which tribals lived have only become stories in the books. ­Maybury-Lewis suggests, we need an ecosophy of our own, imbued with moral commitment and emotional power, if we are to protect the resources on which we depend and ensure not only our own survival but also that of our fellow creatures on this earth. (David Maybury-Lewis, ‘On the importance of being tribal: Tribal wisdom’) Thus there is a need to revive these moral sites. The inspiration for this search is Ricoeur’s argument that every myth hides within itself a possibility of authentic life for others, who are outside the world of that myth. Ricoeur told in an interview: The important point here is that the original potential of any genuine myth will always exceed the limits of a particular community or nation. The myths of any community is the bearer of something which exceeds its own frontiers; it is the bearer of other possible worlds.13 Ricoeur looks to language for recapturing and reviving the lost tribal world. Linguistic forms can ‘open up possible worlds.’ More than merely being the articulation of the lost, the nostalgia for what might have been, powerful linguistic forms can formulate the new in authentic conversation with the possibilities hidden in the mythical world. “Poetry and myth,” argues Ricoeur, “are not just nostalgia for some forgotten world. They constitute a disclosure of new and unprecedented worlds, an opening onto other possible worlds. This is what I mean by the re-creation of language.”14 The fact that the origin of language remains, and in all likelihood will remain, a mystery, as well as the fact of our experience of words that can either hurt or uplift us, in a way that a tool cannot do, shows the insufficiency of the merely anthropological and instrumental interpretation of language.15 Language is neither simply a tool nor instrument, nor does it simply belong to the realm of human activities it shapes the ideas, culture and politics of a people. Indeed humans can only make use of language to the extent that language stands and has a power of its own. Heidegger’s famous claim, 13 Paul Ricoeur and Richard Kearney, “Myth as the Bearer of Possible Worlds.” The Crane Bag 2:1/2 (1978, p. 117). 14 ibid.: 118. 15 Noam Chomsky, “Problems and Mysteries in the Study of Human Language.” In Language in Focus: Foundations, Methods and Systems. Essays in Memory of Yehoshua Bar-Hillel, ed. Asa Kasher (Dordrecht: D. Riedel, 1976, pp. 281–358), p. 82.

48  Saji Varghese that it is not humans, who speak, but it is language that speaks, may strike one as whimsical and inordinately mysterious in its formulation, but it is founded on a truth whose bearing on our very human existence has yet to be understood and realized more fully, and upon which everything is at stake. The complementarity (mutual dependence) among humans is expressed in a beautiful way in some of the African languages. Motho ke motho ka batho is a Sotho proverb found in almost all the indigenous languages of Africa. It means that to be human is to affirm one’s humanity by recognizing the humanity of others and, on that basis, establish humane relations with them. Accordingly, it is botho understood as being human (humanness/ humanity) and a humane (respectful and polite) attitude towards other human beings which constitute the core or central meaning of the aphorism – motho ke motho ka batho. Neither the single individual nor the community can define and pursue their respective purposes without recognizing their mutual foundedness – their complementarity. Wholeness is the ­regulative principle here since what is asserted is that the single individual is ­incomplete without the other. It is botho understood as being humane, respectful and polite towards other human beings which constitutes the core or ­central meaning of the aphorism – motho ke motho ka batho.16 It is language that tells us about the nature of a thing, provided that we respect language’s own nature. In the meantime, to be sure, there rages round the earth an unbridled yet clever talking, writing and broadcasting of spoken words. Man acts as though he were the shaper and master of language, while in fact language remains to be the master of man. That we retain a concern for care in speaking is all to the good, but it is of no help to us as long as language still serves us even then only as a means of expression. Among all the appeals that we human beings, on our part, can help to be voiced, language is the highest and everywhere the first.17 Linguistic abilities characterize human beings into a unique realm. One of the fundamental ontological features of the selfhood is language. Taylor comments that: “Man is above all, the language animal.”18 Self-­ interpretation is possible only within a linguistic framework. In Taylor’s oeuvre, the primacy of language is considered with reference to its cultural and communitarian framework. He argues that the language that I use is never something of my own creation, rather it is provided by my society and ­culture. Taylor put it this way: …language as the locus of disclosure is not an activity of the individual primarily, but of the language community. Being a person cannot be 16 Eddison J. M. Zvobgo, “A Third World View.” In Human Rights and American Foreign Policy, ed. Donald P. Kommers and Gilburt D. Loescher (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1979, pp. 93–94). 17 Martin Heidegger, “Building Dwelling Thinking.” In Poetry, Language, Thought, trans. Albert Hofstadter (New York: Harper and Row, 1971, p. 146). 18 Taylor, 1985: 216.

Cultural lineage through folklores  49 understood simply as exercising a set of capacities I have as an individual, on all fours with my capacity to breathe, walk, and the like. On the contrary, I only acquire this capacity in conversation, to use this as a term of art for human linguistic interchange in general; I acquire it in a certain form within this conversation, that of my culture; and I only maintain it through continued interchange. We could put it this way: I become a person and remain one only as an interlocutor.19 Our linguistic ability makes us dialogical which always highlights the primacy of the other. “…my discovering of my own identity doesn’t mean that I work it out in isolation, but that I negotiate it through dialogue, partly overt, partly internal, with others…. My own identity crucially depends on my dialogical relation with others.”20 Language throws us into a realm of being with others. Language helps for self-understanding and self-interpretation, but most primordial factor of language is that it makes us a dialogical self. Taylor’s argument of the “fusion of horizons”21 is well comprehended within the framework of language. It goes well with what Wittgenstein argues: “To imagine a language means to imagine a form of life.”22 A form of life that which shares all within a community, i.e. custom, traditions, the entire way of life which also includes the communication the myths, tales that are handed down from generation to generation. The environmental values that they focus on are also meaningful as they form or belong to the same ‘form of life’. We have seen how our relationship with fellow human beings can be radically and fundamentally reoriented. Such a relationship is characterized not only by the assumption of equality, but also by the will to be near one another – that is to say, to be neighbour (whose original meaning speaks of dwelling near) – in a mutual dependence, reliance and support. (The insight into our being human, namely, as a “dwelling near . . .,” or as “being familiar with . . .,” is something that Heidegger23 already points to in his earliest major work, Being and Time, which came out in the original German in 1927.) ‘Ich bin’ (I am) means I dwell, I stay near… the world as something familiar in such and such a way. Being as the infinitive of ‘I am’: that is, understood as an existential, means to dwell near…, to be familiar with…. being-in is thus the formal existential expression of the being of Da-sein which has the essential constitution of “being-in the world.” In some communities like that of the tribals of India’s Northeast, ­human-nature relation or respect for nature forms part of the cultural practices and belief which is very much connected with their tradition, custom, 19 Taylor, 1999: 276. 20 Taylor, 1995b: 231. 21 Taylor, 1985a: 281. 22 Wittgenstein, 2009: argument 19. 23 See Martin Heidegger, Being and Time: A Translation of Sein und Zeit, trans. Joan ­Stambaugh. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1996.

50  Saji Varghese etc. As one looks into the worldview of most of tribal communities one is aware that human, nature and the rest of creatures form a kind of unity and therefore are not separated from each other. Rather it is believed that humans, animals, the earth, nature, the sun and the moon belong to a continuum of a moral community, as Sujata Miri has pointed out. 24 This argument tries to substantiate that even before nature is ­evaluated by human, nature has already some intrinsic value. By virtue of being life-process itself each organism or other object can be taken to have intrinsic value. As Rolston argues: “the life that the organistic individual has is something passing through the individual as much as something it intrinsically possesses.”25 According to H. O. Mawrie, A Khasi lives with nature and nature lives with him. When he thinks all the objects around him... he sees that they have each their peculiar and different lives, and they symbolize for him the tremendously variegated character of man himself. 26 Thus for the Khasis, natural objects, the earth and other creatures are animated and thereby being alive. In this way not only individual objects which are animated or teleological centre of life but also holistic entities like the earth are centre of life. Hence if life or being alive is a criterion for moral standing, then we can say that Khasis too subscribes to that view. Ethically speaking, therefore, nature or natural objects by virtue of having life can demand respect from us though the rationale for imparting such respect may have to be articulated or explored. From a religious and ethical perspective, nature is seen as a sacred place that should be respected and protected. In metaphysics, the Buddha thinks that man should be counted equally as a member of the universe, just as other members, such as animals, plants and other kinds of natural resources. In having this idea, certainly the Buddha has his unique reason. Let me give a simple metaphor. There is a house we do not know by whom it was built. The owner of the house is invisible. A man comes and lives in the house. Some days later, a mouse comes and lives with the man. One day after that, a tree appears, growing at a corner of the ground inside the area of the house. As nothing among these things is the owner of the house, the man has no moral authority to claim that he only has the right to live in the house. Even though it could be possible that the man, after coming and living in the house, is the person who is most responsible for taking 24 Sujata Miri, Ethics and Environment. Guwahati: Spectrum Publication, 2001, p. ix. 25 Holmes Rolston III, “Value in Nature and the Nature of Value.” In Philosophy and Natural Environment, ed. Robin Attfield and Andrew Belsey (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994, p. 21). 26 H. Onderson Mawrie, The Khasi Milieu. New Delhi: Concept Publishing House, p. 97.

Cultural lineage through folklores  51 care of the house, this can never be the moral ground to claim that the man has more right to the house than the mouse or the tree. From a Darwinian perspective, man does not have a higher role than other living organisms in the protection of the world. But, if the world would be completely destroyed some day in the future, Darwinists would still have to admit that it is man who did it. “Nature cannot but be ultimately unsatisfactory, for it too is marked by pain and death, or at least by impermanence…. Therefore, the only goal worth striving for is Nirvāṇa, which [is] entirely beyond mundane existence.”27 This also means that though ethics should be formulated in a normative format, the moral sensibility itself is not a ‘rule.’ Rather morality is a sensibility that arises from the limits posed on the self’s freedom in its confrontation with otherness as such, human and non-human. The moral sensibility is groomed and reinforced by cultural developments that happen in close affinity with the natural as well as human environment. In other words, our moral development does have a context and history, and so, moral norms are neither universal nor absolute, even though we should never cease dialoguing with moralities of all contexts and histories to broaden and further radicalize our moral horizon. This view, therefore, has an unsettling bearing on the universalistic, all-conquering, absolutist strain of thought in modern moral theory (of which the contemporary attempts in environmental ethics to produce arguments for the intrinsic value of nature is a reflection) that attempts to formulate a single, universal moral norm under the assumption that there is a single moral reasoning.

27 Buddhism.

4 The uniqueness of storytelling on Malay folk tales Roslina binti Abu Bakar

Introduction Folk literature is a treasure and an early form of literature. It existed before the man knew how to write. Folk literature is a tradition of a culture that is interconnected with verbal language. Malay folk tales will not perish if they are assumed as interesting channel, are well-preserved and are also adapted to suit the modern world. Moreover, the new generation needs to instil their interest in recording, writing down, and review the Malay folk tales. According to Bascom (1965: 25–33), oral tradition exists in all level of culture development. All cultures and societies have folklores even though they are modernized and technologically savvy. This phenomenon portrays that folk tales are the reflection of the society as it has all the culture elements, arts, customs, philosophy, economy, politics and social beliefs. These elements are the history of the society development and contain norms that need to be followed by a society. Every folk tale that exists is related to the history of the supporting society. The delivery of folk tales has elements of values, ethics and aesthetics and also world views besides the culture supported by the society. The creativity of storytelling delivery style by the storyteller can be seen through verbal and non-verbal communication. Thus, such is its sphere of beauty that can indirectly foster intellectual, emotional and spiritual development among individuals of all ages. Folklore is an oral literature that is divided into two categories which are narrative folklores and non-narrative folklores. Narrative folklore is divided into a few parts which are myth stories, legendary stories, and folk tales which consist of soap stories, joke stories, ghost stories and stories with moral values. Non-narrative folklore is the old poetry that consists of “pantun” (poetry), couplets, witty poetry, riddles, folk songs, proverbs and sayings, expressions, et cetera. According to Halimah Hassan (1989: 47–48), folklore is one of the wider and varied literature genres. In brief, folklore is defined as literature that is brought to life through verbalization by using the medium of speech. This means that it is a result of the creativity passed down from one generation

Storytelling on Malay folk tales  53 to another generation orally. So, this traditional form of folklore is free to be adapted, to be changed by the speaker and there is no copyright in folklore. Folklore is also a collective product of a society. Therefore, its people are the image of a society. Specifically, folklore is the reflection of the society that portrays the politics, economy, social, culture and everything about the society. Malay folklore is the product of the traditional society and pictures the lifestyle of the society which consists of social systems that are collective in nature. Malay folklore is a unique legacy of the traditional society. The existence of Malay folklore in the society is still traditional in characteristics, which can be a source of entertainment. The listeners can feel enjoyment and the satisfaction from the intellectual and creative elements which exist within the creators of the folklore. For example, choosing the right words, words that are easy to comprehend and laced with rhythmic language such as “pantun”, lyrical poems and much more, will help the successful delivery of the folklore. In fact, interesting storytelling from the storyteller will capture the audience’s attention. This statement is in line with Mohd. Taib Osman’s view (1976a: 19–31) that folklore is to be delivered verbally. In today’s world, folklore is literature that is printed or written after going through a recording process through verbal literature. At first, folklore is verbalized or is sung by a member of the society and the others listen. While they are listening, they can also watch the speaker or the storyteller moves about their body, arms, legs and head to intensify the storytelling. Because of this, the original creator or speaker of this verbalized literature cannot be identified. As the literature that is spread verbally, every story that is inherited by later generation is always changed and adapted. Any changes or adaptation made is to suit the time and situations. Thus, the storyteller has to be smart and creative in order to take control of his performance. It is clear that verbal literature or also known as folk literature is a product of the old Malay literature. This folk literature is among the earliest to be developed in Malay society together with the birth of the Malay society in the world. Based on the variety of definitions by many researchers, the writer believes that folklore consists of cultural aspects and world view of the traditional society. Meanwhile, a folk tale is the folklore in the narrative form. Folklore is developed in a society who owns it together. The spread of the folk tales is verbalized from the old generation to today’s generation. Folk tales are spread verbally by the professional speakers or amateurs. As a result, a folk tale is also known as verbal literature, which is spread verbally and is owned by inheritance from one generation to the next generation. According to Aripin Said (1996: 15), a folk tale is universal. The story exists in primitive Malay society. Members of the society farm, hunt and catch fish for their daily needs. This society is closed from outside influence and there is no clash of cultures. Folk tales are shown as a strong structure.

54  Roslina binti Abu Bakar According to Ismail Hamid (1987: 4), folk tales are not only a product of literary speech for a society but also portray their way of living or the ­culture of the society. Mohd Taib Osman (1991: 1) stated that apart from material culture and patterns of behaviours such as customs, dances or games, a folk tale is the physical characteristic of the culture. The story itself may be the information that is stored in the minds of the speaker but remains existent and almost corporeal because it is being told numerous times and becomes a tradition that is owned together by the society. In fact, it is not only a creation (probably a creation when it emerged) but also a heritage that is inherited from one generation to another. Based on the definition stated by the researchers, overall, writer defines folk tale as a story that is told verbally among the traditional society. The spread of folk tale is through inheritance of one generation to another and is owned by the society collectively. Malay folk tales are an oral lore narrated a number of times by the storyteller. Thus, the form of the expressions is not fixed and always changes to suit audience’s taste and the changing times. Besides that, the delivery of folk tales can attract the attention of many if the storyteller has his own ability in terms of knowledge, experience, skills and creativity. Malay folk tale is owned by the Malay society who populates the Peninsular Malaysia. To Malays, the concept of being Malay is related closely to Islam; therefore, all Malay people are Muslims. Thus, the concept of Malay is determined by three main characteristics: the Malay descendants are Muslims, Malay is their mother tongue, and that they practice Malay traditions. Ibrahim Yaacub (1951: 10) defined Malay as the original aborigines in Malay states (Malaya) and among other Malay islands (Indonesia) and around it. According to Wan Kadir (1993: 28–29), the Malays have a strong and steady history of culture. Since thousands of years ago, Malays have high civilization. Based on the history of culture, Malays should be proud of their own tradition that they have inherited. The tradition that they owned and inherited has helped to foster strength in developing their identity and personality. If we look through the history of Malay culture, it can be seen through a wider area that covers the area of Alam Melayu (Malay World). The Malay society in Malaysia during the early history cannot be distinguished in terms of regions. They are the descendants who have the same culture and tradition. Likewise their appearance and physical attributes do not show much of a difference from the Malays from one region to another. According to Mohamed Mansor Abdullah (1993: 247), every ethnic who speaks in Malay from Java, Sulawesi Island, Sumatran Land to Bali Island fall into the Malay group. This is because the Malays in Java, Bali Island, Sulawesi Island and Sumatran Land are merged into one nation and have the same culture with the Malays in “Tanah Melayu”.

Storytelling on Malay folk tales  55 The Malay people are a society with Islam as religion, have their own language which is “Bahasa Melayu” and also have created civilization besides having their own development in history. This phenomenon is proved through characteristics of the level of development and the development of the Malays in terms of their thoughts, and their life systems that cover the social, cultural, political and the civilization aspects.

Data analysis and interpretation In the delivery of Malay folk tales, the storyteller generates the creativity and the critical thinking of his mind in order to balance and activate his ­variety of abilities. The uniqueness of storytelling on Malay folk tales by the storyteller is portrayed through his ability to tell a story creatively, pounding on the drums while telling the story, moving his body about to help in conveying the message to an audience, the use of wide variety of language, rhythmic language and prose. However, this writing focuses on the uniqueness of “pantun” (poetry) and hyperbole on storytelling of the Malay folk tales. “Pantun” is closely related to Malay views and has a heavy identity of the Malays. While the use of hyperbole or exaggerated language also brings entertaining aesthetic values besides bringing in life lessons. Thus, the uniqueness of storytelling of Malay folk tales needs to be preserved and the relevancy of the Malay folk tales needs to be suited to today’s world. Moreover, this writing also outlines the efforts made by Malaysia government in preserving the Malay folk tales. The uniqueness of the language used in the storytelling of the Malay folk tales Haviland (1988: 359) stated that language is a sound system which when combined according to the certain rules will bring out its own meaning. The meaning of words through the sound system can be understood by everyone that speaks the language – the language used by the member of the society that reflects their own culture and tradition. Therefore, in the storytelling of the Malay folk tales, a storyteller has his own thinking ability and uses the language to express the content of the Malay folk tales. Language is a medium to convey messages. Thus, he needs to be careful in choosing the right language or the meaning of the words as incorrect meaning can interfere in the smooth process of telling the ­Malay folk tales. For example, the storyteller needs to be sensitive in giving ­meaning to the words and in manipulating the language such as choosing the right words, forming, arranging, and using the right and suitable words that go with the content of the story. This is done because if there are more interaction activities going on, the meaning of the words becomes more abstract or become denotative or connotative.

56  Roslina binti Abu Bakar Thus, when the storyteller is telling the Malay folk tales, he applies his language competency and relates it to other language functions in order to stimulate the emotions of the audience and eventually entertains and educates them verbally. As for an example, an excerpt from a Malay folk tale portrays the ability of the storyteller in using the language wisely or using sources that are able to entertain the audience: “Akan kehebatan Wak Donan ini, kalau sekiranya dia di mana-mana berada, maka dia akan dikerumuni oleh orang ramai yang ingin mendengar ceritanya. Walaupun ceritanya itu kita tahu adalah bohong tetapi ceritanya amat menyeronokkan. Kalau orang (ka) ada majlis tahlil, ada majlis kahwin. Kalau majlis tahlil Wak Donan dulu tidak akan dibenarkan duduk di penangggah, dia mestilah naik ke atas rumah bersama tuan rumah. Kalau tidak nanti orang nak baca doa tak ada orang. [Ha! Ha! Ha!]”. Translation: [This great Wak Donan, if he was at any place, he would be surrounded by people who wants to listen to him telling stories. Even though they know his stories are all lies but the stories were all entertaining. If there would be tahlil ceremony (a religious ceremony), if there would be wedding ceremony. If there would be tahlil ceremony, Wak Donan would not be allowed to sit on the porch, he must come inside the house with the landlord. If not, there would be no one reciting the prayers. [Ha! Ha! Ha!] ]. *Note: [ ] The audience laughs. (Malay Folk tale entitled Tukang Karut (TK) by Storyteller Ali Badron, August 10, 2004) Kamarruzzaman A. Kadir (1985), from his paperwork titled, “Estetika dalam Puisi Melayu Moden: Ditinjau dari Aspek Bahasa”, stated that language is the main tool to create the aesthetics elements that are related to the beautiful reality and arts. This is because language in general is already beautiful; in fact, the beauty of the language will outshine by choosing, forming and arranging the words aptly by the speaker. This brings beautiful meaning to the words that will eventually enhance public’s appreciation of the work. Storyteller or the source is efficient in analysing the use of language by using a variety of language use, rhythmic language and prose besides memorizing the Malay folk tales that he will be telling. He inserts the elements of beauty through the use of witty vocabulary, or vocabulary that will bring variety of meanings and the use of ‘runs’ which is rhythmic language that is frequently used in folk tales. Apart from that, in telling the Malay folk tales, the storyteller masters a few aspects such as rhetoric, which is the ability to use language to persuade the audience, mnemonic which is the ability to help the audience to memorize information, clarification which

Storytelling on Malay folk tales  57 is the ability to clarify or educate and metalinguistic which is the ability to use language to reflect on the language itself. So, a storyteller’s ability to understand the sentence structure and meaning of the words through vocabulary can help him to explain accurately about an event or a situation. This is normally done with the use of metaphor, analogy, figure of speech, hyperbole in order to entertain, explain, to teach moral values and life lessons which will eventually elicit responses from the audience. As for an instance, a fable story in Malay folk tales will educate people of the life lessons. The questions posed through the animal characters that can talk, think and have human quality are satirical and act as a criticism for the society. In telling the Malay folk tales, the storyteller also uses “pantun” as a form of speech in order to convey his thoughts and feelings. Form of speech like “pantun” is a medium in providing the audience advices, quips, jokes and much more. Malay “pantun” portrays the identity of the Malay society that thrives before the Malays know how to write and read. “Pantun” is one of the traditional non-verbal forms of poetry that is still being used today. “Pantun” and its uniqueness in the storytelling of Malay folk tales According to Abd Rahman Hj. Abd. Aziz, Mohammad Zohir Ahmad dan Abdul Ghani Abdullah (2005), the ability of the Malays in using the language in the variety of genre and situation while still following the values and the lifestyle of the society shows that Malay language is rich with elements of emotional quotient management. One of the dominant genres is “pantun”. The characteristics of “pantun” is, it is not only simple, packed and beautiful in terms of words and meanings but also rich of wisdom that needs to be extracted from the aspects of morality, feelings and appreciation. Sweeney (1987: 187) stated that the performance of the professional speaker will recite the poetry and tell his story in tunes so that he can attract the audience’s attention. As for an example, as a professional speaker, a storyteller obviously has the language ability that can tell the Malay folk tales while reciting the poetry and sing through his creations of “pantuns”. Examples of excerpts: Example 1: “Kita tak tahu apa mendatang, Di mana duduk di mana berdiri Kita hanya boleh merancang, Hanya Tuhan dapat menjadi”. Translation: [People can only make all kinds of plans, but only God’s plans will happen].

58  Roslina binti Abu Bakar Example 2: “Konon berlaku di zaman dahulu, Kisah teladan di Batu Pahat, Cerita saudara tidak sehalu, Kerana harta tidak sepakat”. Translation: [Money breaks blood ties]. Example 3: “Benarlah kata orang bahari, Jangan berhuma tanah seberang, Walaupun tinggi kita berbudi, Hanya emas dipandang orang”. Translation: [No matter how kind we are to people, only those with money are the one looked upon]. (Malay Folk tale entitled Hajat Tak Sampai (HTS) by Storyteller Ali Badron, 15 July 2004) Based on the examples of “pantun” above, storyteller creates “pantun” that has imagery and meaning consisting of images that will help the audience to understand the meaning. Both parts of the “pantun” are balanced and have unleashed the beauty of the “pantun”. In storytelling, the storyteller brings in exceptional stanzas of “pantun” that have the same imagery and meaning, rhymes and also sound association. As for an instance, example 2 is a “pantun” that has ‘lu’ end rhyme in line 1 and 3 and ‘hat/kat’ in line 2 and 4. This “pantun” shows behavioural effect, the effect of beauty, and helps to configure the emotion of the audience through forms and themes. According to Norazit Selat (2001: 89), among the values practiced by the Malay people is the concept of being courteous which is used in Malay proverbs and “pantun”. The words that are included in the concept of being courteous are politeness, personable, discretionary and so on. It is clear that courtesy is one of Malay’s traits. Example 3 also shows the meaning of the value of courtesy in the culture of the Malay society which is inherited from old traditional times. This “pantun” helps to generate the intellect and emotions of the people, as for an example, to understand the importance of appreciating when people being courteous towards you. The “pantun” also gives an emphasis on how people should appreciate those who help them. According to Tenas Effendy (2005), Malay culture owns noble values that have proven its reliability, which has become an identity for the society since a hundred years ago. These values are believed to elevate the dignity, standard and prestige of the Malays and able to face the challenges and modern advances.

Storytelling on Malay folk tales  59 The creation of the “pantun” stanzas shows the elements of beauty in addition to the explicit and implicit meaning of the “pantun”. For example, the beauty of the world is brought in by the storyteller so that the audience will benefit from it. As a result, the audience will find their inner peace and fantasy after appreciating the beauty of the world through “pantun”. An example of “pantun”: “Asal santan menjadi santan, Asal minyak menjadi minyak, Salah betul dalam buatan, Burung yang terbang menjadi jinak”. Translation: [The behavior of a person can be fixed or changed through good upbringing]. This “pantun” has an imagery and meaning that shows the beauty of the world. The use of nature imagery in the “pantun’s” meaning synonyms with the meaning of the “pantun” that is intended for the audience. The use of imagery in the meaning of the “pantun” acts as a medium for an audience to understand the real message. It is obvious that the storyteller does not randomly choose the nature imagery but he selects the words in order to suit with the meaning of the message. For example, the “burung” lexical, is a wild bird that files freely but if it gets caught and taken as the pet, it will eventually become tame which is a connotation to that of human behaviour. Negative behaviour can be fixed and corrected through good upbringing or education. This imagery can help the audience to indirectly complete the meaning of the “pantun”. Thus, the expression of thoughts by the storyteller through the language style and also the imagery of beautiful nature used in the “pantun” can act as a cure to the grief besides influencing the audience. Thus, the element of nature plays a massive role in life and also brings positive impact to man. The beauty of nature that is weaved in the lines of the “pantun” by the storyteller is not for man to see the beauty of the world from the physical aspect. In fact, it portrays on how the beauty of nature closely reflects human ethics. The beauty of nature that is being appreciated by the storyteller will inspire him to create Malay folk tales that will have the elements of nature and also spiritual grace. This phenomenon helps the audience to enjoy the perfection and the beauty of nature which is indirectly appreciating God’s creations. According to Hamidah Abdul Hamid (1995: 30–37), the beauty of nature is related to the perfection and beauty of the spiritual elements. Sweeney (1987: 107) stated that “pantun” is a verbal form of literature with significant authenticity. The creation of “pantun” that is ideal and beautiful in characteristics by the storyteller in the process of telling the Malay folk tales shows the sharp minds of the Malays. The following excerpt is the identity of the storytelling on Malay folk tales which depicts

60  Roslina binti Abu Bakar verses of “pantun” told by the professional storyteller in Malaysia, Ali Badron bin Haji Sabor at the beginning of his show. “Asal santan menjadi santan, Asal minyak menjadi minyak, Mana yang salah dalam sebutan, Mohon ampun banyak-banyak”. “Asal santan menjadi santan, Asal minyak menjadi minyak, Kalau betul dalam sebutan, Burung yang terbang menjadi jinak”. Translation: [Ali Badron apologises if he mispronounced any words]. The uniqueness of storytelling on Malay folk tales through the use of ­Malay language especially Malay “pantun” portrays the greatness in ­building strong Malay identity among the individuals, society and the country. “Pantun” is full of identity, value of courtesy and Malay culture which is inherited since the old traditional times. Besides using “pantun” in the storytelling of the Malay folk tales, storyteller also likes to bring in intellectually gratifying language in his storytelling such as exaggerated language or hyperbole. In the traditional society, exaggerated language or hyperbole can help to bring the public (the traditional society especially) into the ­fantasy world, entertaining them even for a brief moment and ­eventually make them forget of their sorrow and grief. This phenomenon is particularly relevant in traditional societies because of their closed nature and non-existence of modern entertainment or technology. Exaggerated language/hyperbole According to Ainon Mohd and Abdullah Hassan (2002: 6), hyperbole is the figure of speech or phrases that are enlarged or altered beyond the normal proportion. Za’ba (2002: 215) stated that hyperbole is the language diversity that describes something that is larger and greater than it really is and so on by using exaggerated words and everyone knows that it is not as greater or more than it really is. In the storytelling of Malay folk tales, the storyteller applies his language skills that will help to attract people’s interest, evoke emotions and stimulate the audience’s cognitive. As for an example, through the folk tales Hajat Tak Sampai, Si Badang dan Cerita Terpanjang, Example 1: “Cantik Cik Puteh cantik terperi Siapa memandang jatuh berahi, Umpama puteri seorang bidadari,

Storytelling on Malay folk tales  61 Jatuh melayang turun ke bumi”. “Suara Cik Puteh amat merdunya, Siapa mendengar amat terpesona. Burung yang terbang turun ke bawah, Tanaman berputik terus berbuah”. “Anjing menyalak berhenti tersedu, Mendengar Cik Puteh madah berlagu”. “Hujan yang leabt jadi gerimis, Binatang di hutan semuanya menangis”. Translation: [The beauty of “Cik Puteh” is compared to an angel descending to the earth, “Cik Puteh” has beautiful voice that will melt those who heard her voice, That all the bird stop flying and all the plants and trees start to bear fruits, The dogs stop barking when “Cik Puteh” starts to sing, Heavy rains become light shower while all the animals in the woods weep]. (Malay Folktale entitled Hajat Tak Sampai by Storyteller Ali Badron, 15 July 2004) Example 2: “Mukanya bulat bulan purnama, Hidungnya mancung seludang mayang, Matanya itu bintang kejora, Alisnya lentik sehari bulan, Pipinya licin, Pipinya licin telur dikupas, Bibirnya manis limau seulas, Dagunya itu lebah tergantung, Telinganya pula sarang tempua, Giginya putih mutiara tersusun, Lehernya pula, lehernya pula, Lehernya itu buyung petani, Bahunya lentik si wayang cina, Dadanya bidang membusut jantan, Pinggangnya ramping macam kerengga, Betisnya itu si bunting padi, Rambutnya ikal mayang mengurai, Jarinya lentik si duri landak, Tumitnya langsung, tumitnya langsung telurlah puyuh, Siapa memandang, Siapa memandang jatuh berahi, Siapa memandang, Siapa memandang tak dapat menoleh lagi”. (Malay Folktales entitled Cerita Terpanjang by Storyteller Ali Badron, 16 July 2004)

62  Roslina binti Abu Bakar Translation: [This Cerita Terpanjang describes a lady with stunning appearance and physique that anyone who laid their eyes on her, would not be able to look away]. Example 3: “Akan Badang ini, seorang yang bentuk badannya besar, tingginya ­sekira-kira lima hasta, dadanya bidang sejengkal kiraan tiga hasta, susuk tubuh badannya itu memang, memang menunjukkan ia salah seorang yang gagah perkasa”. Translation: [This “Badang” has a massive body and his height is five foot tall. His chest is so broad and his body shows that he is very strong and manly]. (Malay Folktales entitled Si Badang by Storyteller Ali Badron, July 25, 2004) Based on Example 1, “Cik Puteh” is pictured as a very beautiful woman. Her beauty is like an angel from heaven, and is portrayed from the exaggerated phrases used which are exaggerated more than the real intended meaning. The word expressions are made greater than it really is and the audience understands the meanings without the extreme exaggeration. For example, the velvety voice of “Cik Puteh” will melt anyone who heard her, birds stop flying, plants start to bear fruits, dogs stop barking, heavy rain turns to a light shower and all the animals in the woods weep are not what it really is. Based on Example 2, the exaggerated language is also applied by the storyteller or the source to describe the beauty and perfection of Princess “Umi Kalsom Kilat Berdentum di Waktu Senja” excessively. The form of expressions is used excessively and is beyond the normal proportion. In this case, her round face is compared to the full moon, her eyes are beautiful like the stars, her dainty fingers is like the ‘thorns of the hedgehog’, do not really represent the princess, but the words are used for imagination purpose only. The extreme description through exaggerated phrases is slightly unacceptable and not real. This exaggerated language or hyperbole is only a connotation to picture the character, Princess Umi Kalsom Kilat Berdentum di Waktu Senja who is very beautiful and perfect. Based on Example 3, the physique of “Badang” is beyond normal which is shown from the exaggerated phrases used. Examples of the exaggerated phrases used are “Badang” has a massive body, is five foot tall and broad chest of three cubits (the length from the elbow to the end of the fingers). The description of “Badang’s” physical characteristics is not the human characteristics in the real world and it is not as true as what the source says. The overstatement or the exaggerated and unusual description do not only charm the attention of the audience but also functions as a medium for

Storytelling on Malay folk tales  63 entertainment and fantasy. So, the use of language by the storyteller will help to generate a positive reaction from the audience and it will eventually prove the effectiveness of storytelling on Malay folk tales. Relevancy of Malay folk tales and the contemporary world The documentation of oral stories has attracted minimum attention from today’s generation who is drowned in modernization. However, the government has put a lot of effort and research work regarding folklore which is being carried out in Malaysia so that Malay folk tales can be preserved. Malay folk tales and the storytelling are able to entertain as well as educate people of all age groups. The effort in preserving the Malay folk tales will indirectly open an opportunity for the new generation to get to know the cultural heritage which is slowly going down with the passage of time. According to Mohd Taib Osman (1976b: 294–295), an effective documentation is the feedback from the oral traditional materials to the society. With this, the lifespan of a tradition will be extended because it ‘lives’ in the society. Commonly, the pattern experiences some changes, but this is necessary. The use of recorded material is encouraged, either for radio purpose, television, book writings, education at school, or the academic research. All of this will extend the lifespan of the tradition. So, the organization that documents covers on how the archived materials can be used by those who need it. The materials should not be assumed as a treasure but should be kept safely as a heritage. The support should be given so that the material can be used. Digital animation and folk tales In Malaysia, the animation field has vast potentials to be developed apart from generating new talents in the field of multimedia creative content. The animation is a commitment for the Malaysia government especially for the Ministry of Science, Technology and Innovation and the centre of Digital Animation MSC Malaysia in Cyberjaya to support the development of the digital animation industry and also to increase the local expertise in the area. Malay folk tales and its development through the digital animation are being carried out through the process of creating animated films especially using the three-dimensional technology. Apart from the commitment of the government, the contemporary society is given the opportunity to get to know the idolized animated characters of the whole world and that the development of the local animated film is based on the folk tales. As for an example, folk tales like Kisah Sang Kancil (The Story of A Mousedeer), Badang, Bawang Putih dan Bawang Merah (Shallot and Garlic) that provide entertainment and give moral values for children are shown in the animated form which is bright and colourful. The folk tales that are introduced through the digital animation have certain messages and advice to them.

64  Roslina binti Abu Bakar Before the existence of digital animation, the message in the Malay folk tales was conveyed using verbal medium, sketches or cartoons. Today, with the existence of digital animation, the message is conveyed in a simple way and it is very interesting for the publics. The Malay folk tales that are channelled from the television ­medium will help to convey the message and provide entertainment for the ­audience, and attract the attention of the public because of the element of colours and movement. Thus, television has become a dumping ground for ­digital animation which is produced from Malay folk tales as it has great attraction besides spurring the animation industry as a profitable industry. Multimedia Development Corporation (MDeC) also has established ­Malaysia Animation Creative Content Center (MAC) as an effort to continue producing animation. MAC provides facilities and programs for all animators, visual artist and multimedia students who are asked to share their ideas in the digital content space. This includes animation, games, visual effects, mobile contents and computer graphics which are related to creative content. According to Multimedia Development Corporation (MDeC), MAC is a strategic facility to complete the existing facilities in Multimedia Super Corridor (MSC) Malaysia as for example the Creative Application and Development Center which is expected to increase the development and create awareness about the digital content industry in Malaysia. Based on the statement of the former Minister of Science, Technology, and Innovation, the late Datuk Seri Dr. Jamaluddin Jarjis stated that folk tales like Sang Kancil, Badang and so on, should be shared with other countries in the world through digital animation. Jamaluddin stated that digital animation has high potential to be developed by the local expertise and set forth the folk tales like Badang, Sang Kancil, Bawang Putih Bawang Merah (Shallot and Garlic) and Pak Pandir among the societies of the world. It is in line with government’s wish for the young generation of the country to explore the digital animation field as a new source that promises huge returns. Even though the animation field in Malaysia is still new and there is still room for improvements, the potential and the value of the field is massive.

Conclusion Through the process of storytelling of the Malay folk tales, the storyteller has to apply his knowledge, experiences, skills, wisdom and creativity so that his performance can achieve the true function of the folklore and able to attract the attention besides providing a platform in appreciating beauty for the audience. As a result, the audience gains positive and relative values. Thus, the storytelling of the Malay folk tales by the storyteller is able to function as a fantasy for the audience which will bring them out of their grief and sorrow.

Storytelling on Malay folk tales  65 The language ability of the storyteller clearly makes an impact on the emotional aesthetics of the audience. Expressions of feelings through imagery and nature in non-narrative and narrative form help to bring meaning that will rouse the beauty. The performance of the storyteller or the source can influence the emotion of the audience in which they will i­ndirectly become much more sensitive towards words, sounds, tones and connotations intended. This, in turn, will raise the perspective towards beauty in ­storytelling which will help to strengthen the spirituality, educating and entertaining the audience at the same time. The storytelling of the Malay folk tales by the storyteller is channelled through sound waves which will produce symbols and language codes and is accompanied by the wide variety of beautiful sounds of the language. Thus, the storytelling of the Malay folk tales does not only function as a medium for entertainment and education but also helps to shape the ­emotional, spiritual and intellectual side of the communicators. Malay folk tales and the storytelling by the storyteller contain a unique value of tradition and culture in the Malay traditional society. The creativity of the source in telling the Malay folk tales while accompanied by musical instruments like the pounding of the drums is a link to non-verbal communication in the communication of the traditional Malay culture. Besides that, the wisdom of the storyteller or the source can be seen and appreciated when he applies variations in language. The beauty of the performance is introduced through rhythm and the sound of the narrative lines while being accompanied by the drums, flute and other musical instruments. Malay folk tales portray that the Malays have a strong and steady history of culture and have had a high level of civilization since a long time ago. Thus, the Malay folk tales are able to function as social control in order to maintain cultural integrity of the Malay society. Meanwhile, the mandate that is delivered through social communication can bring awareness that the elements of values and ethics should be applied in living as a society. In conclusion, Malay folk tale is a part of the folklore owned by the ­Malay people. Malay folk tale is the product of speech of the Malay society whose religion is Islam. Malay folk tale is a traditional inheritance that is extended for the next generation. Thus, Malay folk tales can be portrayed as the life phenomenon, world views, and the culture of the traditional ­Malay society. All the essence from the Malay folk tales can be used in ­today’s world as a form of entertainment, a didactic source educating the individuals of the society. In fact, Malay folk tales that are preserved through elements of digital animation in Malaysia help to maintain the values and the ­Malay culture. This will eventually help to create perfect individuals who are ­balanced in emotional, spiritual and intellectual well-being. Through digital animation, the communication of moral values and ­ethics that can be found in the Malay folk tales is akin to missionary work in the context of guiding the audience to behave positively and prevent any ill-doing. Folk tales play a big role in entertaining and educating people.

66  Roslina binti Abu Bakar The mandate in the folk tales can help in educating individuals and help with the socialization of society with the development of holistic individuals.

Acknowledgements The author wishes to thank Universiti Putra Malaysia and The Ministry of Education for the financial support during Post-Doctoral program at ­I nternational Institute for Asian Studies (IIAS), University of Leiden, Leiden, The Netherlands, from November 1, 2014 to November 1, 2016. Thanks are also due to Dr. Philippe Peycam, Director of IIAS, Dr. Willem Vogelsang, manager of IIAS, and my supervisor Dr. Aone Engelenhoven for the continuous support. The author also wishes to thank Organizing ­Committee of ‘Oral Traditions: Continuity and Transformations’ ­conference for their support, kindness and helpful advice.

References Abd. Rahman Hj. Abd. Aziz, Mohammad Zohir Ahmad dan Abdul Ghani Abdullah. 2005. Kecerdasan Emosi Menstabilkan Diri Individu. http://­ motivasiutusan.4mg.com/emosi.html, accessed August 15, 2005. Ainon Mohd. dan Abdullah Hassan. 2002. Koleksi Terindah Peribahasa Melayu. Pahang: PTS Publications & Distributors Sdn. Bhd. Ali Badron Hj. Sabor. 2004a. Interview by Roslina Abu Bakar. Cerita Terpanjang. Batu Pahat, July 16. Ali Badron Hj. Sabor. 2004b. Interview by Roslina Abu Bakar. Hajat Tak Sampai. Batu Pahat, July 15. Ali Badron Hj. Sabor. 2004c. Interview by Roslina Abu Bakar. Si Badang. Batu Pahat, July 25. Ali Badron Hj. Sabor. 2004d. Interview by Roslina Abu Bakar. Tukang Karut. Batu Pahat, August 10. Amin Sweeney. 1987. A Full Hearing, Orality and Literacy in the Malay World. Berkeley: University of California Press. Aripin Said. 1996. Prosa Warisan. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka. Halimah Hassan. 1989. Masyarakat dalam Sastera Rakyat. Dewan Sastera, 8: 47–48. Hamidah Abdul Hamid. 1995. Pengantar Estetik. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka. Ibrahim Yaacob. 1951. Nusa dan Bangsa Melayu. Jakarta: Al-Maarif. Ismail Hamid. 1987. Perkembangan Kesusasteraan Melayu Lama. Petaling Jaya: Longman. Jamilah Haji Ahmad. 1981. Kumpulan Esei Sastera Melayu Lama. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka. Kamaruzzaman A. Kadir. 1985. Estetika dalam Puisi Melayu Moden: Ditinjau dari Aspek Bahasa. Paper presented at the Malay Studies National Conference, Kuala Lumpur September 23–25. Khairunnisa Sulaiman. 2007. Saladin Bukti Kejayaan Anak Tempatan. estidotmy. 68: 6 & 7.

Storytelling on Malay folk tales  67 Laupa Junus. 2007. Industri Animasi Menjana Keuntungan dan Bakat. estidotmy. 68: 4 & 5. Mohamed Mansor Abdullah. 1993. Konsep Malu dan Segan Orang Melayu ­B erdasarkan Hikayat dan Cerita Melayu Lama. In Psikologi Melayu. Abdul Halim Othman, ed. pp. 244–294. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka. Mohd Taib Osman. 1976a. Pendokumentasian Sastra Rakyat dan Sastra Daerah Malaysia. Dewan Sastra, 7: 39–41. Mohd Taib Osman. 1976b. Sastra Rakyat, Tinjauan Umum. In Diskusi Sastera ­Jilid 1: Sastera Tradisi. A. Bakar Hamid, ed. pp. 294–295. Kuala Lumpur: D ­ ewan ­Bahasa dan Pustaka. Mohd Taib Osman. 1991. Pengkajian Sastera Bercorak Cerita. Kuala Lumpur: ­Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka. Norazit Selat. 2001. Adat Melayu: Kesinambungan dan Perubahan. In Adat ­Melayu Serumpun Adat bersendi Syarak, Syarak Bersendi Kitabullah. Abdul Latiff Abu Bakar, ed. Pp. 87–98. Melaka: Perbadanan Muzium Melaka. R. William Bascom. 1965b. Folklore and Anthropology. In The Study of Folklore. Dundes, Alan, ed. pp. 25–33. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Tengku Nasyaruddin S. Effendy (Tenas Effendy). 2005. Sopan Santun Melayu – Bentuk dan Realitinya Dalam Dunia Global. Paper presented at the “Syarahan Za’ba Pengajian Melayu”, Kuala Lumpur, September 16. Wan Abdul Kadir. 1993. Budaya Melayu dalam Perubahan. Petaling Jaya: Masfami Enterprise. William A. Haviland. 1988. Antropologi. 4. Jakarta: Penerbit Erlangga.

5 The Khasi oral traditional forms of communication Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

Everyday conversations and interactions are primary communicative skills engrained in human psychology. Relationships are formed on attributes of communication like oral discourse, body gestures, gaze, pointing and other means in conversational space which is transformed on a moment-to-­ moment basis. Communication derived from the Latin word commūnicāre meaning “to share” is the most purposeful and powerful form of ­exchanging meaningful ideas, information, interaction, dialogue, rapport and transaction frequency between two or more individuals. McQuail (1975)1 sees ­human communication in linear terms and that messages may be in the form of oral or written, visual or olfactory. He considers things such as laws, customs, practices and ways of dressing, gestures, buildings, gardens, ­military parades and flags to be communication. There is more than a verbal tie between the words common, community, and communication. Men live in a community by virtue of the things which they have in common and communication is the way in which they come to possess things in common. What they must have in common… are aims, beliefs, aspiration, knowledge – a common understanding – like-mindedness as sociologists say. Such things cannot be passed physically from one to another like bricks; they cannot be shared as persons would share a pie by dividing it into physical pieces. Consensus demands communication (Dewey, 1916, pp. 5–6)2 . Categories of communication can be found among human beings, living organisms and devices. Human communication is unique for its extensive use of language. The forming of communicative intent, message composition, message encoding, transmission of signal, reception of signal, message decoding and finally interpretation of the message by the recipient are basic steps of communication through a shared system of signs and semiotic rules. Among the Khasi of Meghalaya, Northeast India, the most effective and powerful form of communication is through ka ktien ka thylliej (word of

1 D. McQuail, Communication, Longman, 1975, p. 3. 2 J. Dewey, Democracy and Education, An Introduction to the Philosophy of Education. New York: Macmillan, 1916.

The Khasi oral tradition  69 mouth). The strength of the oral traditional forms of communication of the Khasi is evident till the present day where a large majority of the populace maintain the basic etiquette of ka jutang (covenant) and ka ktien kaba tam which lays emphasis on the importance of the use of appropriate words in communication. Communication is a natural survival instinct of all living beings. Human beings – the more superior kind – employ effective modes of mass communication that are advance, complex and dynamic. Indigenous modes of communication that have served the Khasi society for ages are traditional media that employ ki dak ki shin (non-verbal), ka ktien ka thylliej (verbal), ki pharshi (proverbs), ka put ka tem (music), ka nguh ka dem or ka duwai ka phirat (ritual performances), ki sawangka (drama), ki phawar (performance poetry), ki khanapateng (legends), ki khanatang (myths), ki shalani or ki jingkyntip (riddles), ka shad ka kmen (dance), ki puriskam purinam (fables) and many more. They are wisdom transferred from the older generation to the youth that serve as infotainment and motivation in order to mobilise support and participation in cultural performances and festivals of the Khasi. Such forms of communication are spontaneous and flexible that is open to listener interpretations that initiate creative solving skills depending on the capability of the absorbent.

Characteristics of traditional communication First, inter-personal communication is prevalent in a society’s ethos, and information is disseminated devoid of technology. Second, traditional forms of communication are institutionalised in the form of rituals, art, music, festivals and so on. “The communication is circumscribed by the culture of society in which it operates with its local moorings”.3 Third, the hierarchies are of an ascriptive nature. For example, in ancient India, Sanskrit was spoken only by upper caste men (primarily Brahmins), while women and the lower castes spoke Prakrit. “Thus language serves as an instrument of authority and power over others”.4 Fourth, the traditional mode of communication exists side by side with the electronic media and is relied more in the village society.

Oral tradition of the Khasi Oral traditions or orality among the Khasi is largely based on memories that shape the future in the light of past experiences conceived to avoid the unconstructive connotations of illiteracy. In 1965, Jan Vansina in his path 3 R. Williams, Silent Language, New York: Columbia University Press, 1961, p. 216. 4 T. Me Carthy, The Critical Theory of Jurgen Habermas, Cambridge: Polity Press, 1978, p. 183. As Habermas has conceived that, “Language is also a medium of domination and social power, it serves to legitimise relations of organised force. In so far as these relations are merely expressed in the legitimations, language is also ideological”.

70  Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh breaking work, Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology, defines oral traditions as, “all verbal testimonies which are reported statements concerning the past”.5 In the present day, the value of non-written sources and traditional communication are recognised and respected among researchers. “Orality is the basic human mode of communication, and although peoples all over the world now use literate means to represent pastness”.6 The word tradition comes from the Latin word traditium, tradition which denotes anything transmitted from the past. Oral tradition may be termed as one which is fixed in form and learnt by heart and transmitted as it stands and the other which is in free form and not learnt by heart and which everyone transmits in his own way (Rosenberg, 1987). Therefore, it implies the fixed type of tradition is that oral tradition which is in the form of poem, while the free type of tradition is in the form of a narrative one. The very words of the poem belong to the tradition, whereas in the case of the narrative, they are a contribution made by the narrator.7 For millennia, prior to the arrival of the European missionaries in 1841, the Khasi language was essentially oral and served as the sole means of communication available for maintaining the society. The rich oral tradition of the Khasi is well pronounced and is still the first and most widespread form of communication. For example, whistling, which is one of the oldest forms of communication is still existent in the remote areas of Meghalaya. The presence of an individual amidst dense forest cover is acknowledged by the melodic echo of a whistle. For decades, the Khasi communicated over the hills and mountains through this wondrous act where immediate feedback is received by a return whistle. The source (sender) of the sign needs precision to study the message re-sent by the receiver and, by using his sense of direction and an attentive ear, decodes through the audible decibel content of the message and most often locates the spot of the intended receiver. Far more than ‘just talking’, oral tradition refers to a dynamic and highly diverse oral-aural medium for evolving, storing and transmitting knowledge, art and ideas. It is typically contrasted with literacy, with which it can and does interact in myriad ways and also with literature, which it dwarfs in size, diversity and social function.8

5 J. Vansina, Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology, Chapter 19, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1973, p. 19. 6 E. Tonkin, Narrating Our Pasts: The Social Construction of Oral History, Chapter 1, 1st paperback edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995, p. 1. 7 B. A. Rosenberg, “The complexity of oral tradition”, Oral Tradition vol. 2, no. 1, pp. 73–90, 1987. 8 J. M. Foley, Oral Tradition Communication.

The Khasi oral tradition  71 Khasi mythology implies that in Ka Sotti Juk (Holy Age) or Ka Aiom Ksiar (Golden Age) that the Khasi refer to as the beginning of time is the age when holiness governed the earth and everyone spoke one universal language. Ka Ramew and U Basa were the only two beings that lived happily on earth. As time went by emptiness emerged and Ka Ramew prayed to God for ki matkylliang (children) ban sah ka jait ka kynja (to retain life). As an answer to her plea God blessed Ka Ramew and U Basa with ka sngi (sun), u bnai (moon), ka um (water), ka lyer (wind) and ka ding (fire). “Then Ka Ramew prayed for someone to rule, care and administer the world”.9 To this earnest plea God held ka Dorbar Blei (holy council) and U Blei Trai Kynrad (God, the Lord and Master) sent Khadhynriew Trep (16 huts) from heaven to labour all day, to reap profits from the earth, after which they would return to their heavenly abode by dusk through the legendary Jingkieng Ksiar (golden ladder) on U Lum Sohpetbneng (the mount of the heavenly umbilical cord or navel of the earth). Ka Jingkieng Ksiar (golden ladder) is also known as U ‘saijingim (thread of life) due to easy access between heaven and earth. One day, when only seven families descended to the earth to labour and the other nine families remained in heaven, Ka Jingkieng Ksiar (the golden ladder) was cut off, disconnecting any form of access between heaven and earth. Legend has it that among the Hynñiew Trep (seven families) was a heavenly being who desired absolute power and control over his brethren. He could not attain this while they had access to heaven. Thus, while ­everyone was busy with their chores, he cut off the ladder and the ­Hynñiew Trep (seven families) have since remained on earth while the other ­Khyndai Trep (nine families) are in heaven. In fact, the first settlement of U ­Hynñiew Trep (seven families) is believed to be on U Lum Sohpetbneng, a hill ­measuring about 1,434 metres, in Ri-Bhoi District of Meghalaya. In the days of Ka Sotti Juk (Holy Age) communication was da ka ktien ka thylliej (word of mouth). As decreed by Ka Hukum (God of commandment) that ka ktien kan synshar ïa ka pyrthei (words shall rule the earth), U Hynniew Trep (seven huts) communicated in the oral for m which is maintained till the present day (Figures 5.1 and 5.2). Hence on the first Sunday of the second month, i.e. February, thousands of people from different walks of life make a pilgrimage to pay homage to Ka Ramew and U Basan at the sacred peak of U Lum Sohpetbneng. Devotees from different walks of life throng the sacred hill to pynksan rngiew (enhance their inner-spirit). Ka Rngiew is the inner spirit existent in every individual (Figures 5.3 and 5.4). It is that power of man which is inherently born in him and he has it by virtue of being a Man. It is both kinetic and dynamic – kinetic in the

9 K. S. Tariang, The philosophy and essence of Ka Niam Khasi, part 4, 2015.

72  Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

Figure 5.1 Pilgrims collect Rice grains to take home. Photo – Dr. Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

Figure 5.2  Signage of U Lumsopbneng with inscriptiions of the tenets of Ka Niam Khasi and area of the place. Photo – Dr. Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

sense that it is there with him and in him as solid as anything to uphold him against anything that might shake him in his life, and dynamic in the sense that it is the ever-sustaining power into success in all his endeavour and undertaking.10 10 H. O. Mawrie, The Essence of the Khasi Religion, Seng Khasi Series No. 1, Shillong: Ri Khasi Press, 1981, p. 8.

The Khasi oral tradition  73

Figure 5.3  Pracitioners gather at the alter ready for the ritual performance. Photo – Dr. Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

Figure 5.4  Offerings at the altar. Photo – Dr. Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

Ritual performance at the sacred peak is repository of ancient wisdom and the fountain head of religious philosophy. It is oral tradition that is based on memories that shape the future in the light of past experiences. In 1965, Jan Vansina in his path breaking work, Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology, defines oral traditions as, “all verbal testimonies

74  Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh which are reported statements concerning the past”.11 In the present day, the value of non-written sources and traditional communication are recognised and respected among researchers. “Orality is the basic human mode of communication, although people all over the world now use literate means to represent pastness”.12 Every person is precious and people are more important than things. Children are our future and they bring an increased sense of meaning into people’s lives. Living for someone other than oneself makes a person un-­ selfish by giving purpose to his life, and purpose is the key to happiness and long life. The Khasi believe that the birth of a child is decreed by God and that it possesses its own right. Therefore, it is imperative that an individual should be recognised and respected by a name for which God’s accord and recognition should be obtained as well as the accord and recognition of Ka Ïawbei (ancestress) and U Thawlang (ancestor). A name is important to identify an individual from the rest of the populace. As every individual is addressed by a personal name, in times of ill health, for blessings or life in general, prayers are conducted in the respective names. Human life is sacred and the dignity of the human person is the foundation of a moral vision for society. More than any other creature, humans are capable of utilising systems of communication for self-expression, exchange of ideas and organisation. Human groups range from the size of families to nations. Social interactions between humans have established an extremely wide variety of values, social norms and rituals which together form the basis of human society. The oral traditional forms of communication among the Khasi is a pattern of various symbolic behaviours that is not innate but learnt through social interaction with others. Distinctive material and symbolic systems like language, rituals, social organisation, traditions and belief systems are testimony to the rich cultural heritage of the Khasi. In the past, the birth of a baby at or before sunrise is often followed by the naming ceremony in the morning or before noon. The naming of a child is important and carried out with fervour so as to augment its aura and well-being. When the baby is born after sunrise, the naming ceremony is performed the next morning. With the passage of time, Ka Jer Ka Thoh (naming ceremony) is performed three days or months after the baby is born. A name holds the power to shape a child’s self-esteem and identity. Names are of enormous importance in every culture. To a Khasi, Ka Jer Ka Thoh (naming ceremony) is the event at which an infant, a youth or an adult is given a name. The ceremony is always a mutual agreement between 11 J. Vansina, Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology, Chapter 19, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1973, p. 19. 12 E. Tonkin, Narrating Our Pasts: The Social Construction of Oral History, Chapter 1, 1st paperback edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995, p. 1.

The Khasi oral tradition  75 relatives from the mother and father’s side. The timing can vary from mere days after birth to several months. These ceremonies have religious or cultural significance although traditions of the area where they were born, might differ (Figures 5.5–5.8). Implements of choice may differ with every kur or clan, ïing or family, Hima or Kingdom. However, on the broad aspect they are: U prah – Cane winnowing basket, Ka lakait or lakhar – Plantain leaf, U skaw – Gourd, U khaw – Rice, Ka um – Water, U pujer – Pounded rice powder, Ka ja – Cooked Rice, Ka ryntieh – Bow, Lai tylli ki khnam ba la loit ïa u sop – Three arrows

Figure 5.5  Items used for the ritual performance of Ka Jer Ka Thoh (Naming ­ceremony). Photo – Dr. Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

Figure 5.6  Signs of a signified name or confirmation of a name. Photo – Dr. Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

76  Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

Figure 5.7  Items used for the ritual performance of baby girl. Photo – Dr. Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

Figure 5.8  Items used for the ritual performance of a baby boy. Photo – Dr. Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh

in case of a male, Ka Khoh – Conical cane basket, U Star – Cane head strap (meant for the khoh), Pylleng – Egg, Ka Rashi– Sickle, Wait bnoh – Dao with a bent tip in case of a girl child, U khulom lane u Let – Pen or Pencil and Ka Kotsada lane ka Kopi – Paper or an exercise book. It is observed that recitation prefixes alongside religious performances of the Khasi. In Ka Jer Ka Thoh (naming ceremony), the Nongjer/Nongkñia (person performing the ceremony) or elder uses ritual speech which is not a

The Khasi oral tradition  77 fixed oral text but an active, sensitive and sometimes creative performance of ancestral ways of speaking The onus is on the nongkñia/nongjer (practitioner) to employ appropriate wordings besides being creative. His dynamic ability to use language as a tool for ritual performances and the energy of trance as a divine play is fascinating. Ka Jing duwai: Sngew keiñ Kynrad, sngap keiñ Kynrad Ko blei ko nongbuh ko nongsei khunbynriew Ah ko Mei ko Ïawbei ko Pa ko Thawlang Ïa phi ko basan bynriew Kynrad ko ba shna bynriew Ko ba pynbiang ka doh ka snam, ka mat ka pung, ka rynïeng Translation of the Prayer: Hear Oh God, listen Oh God Oh God Oh Keeper, Oh creator of humankind First ancestress and first ancestor of the clan, Creators of man Oh elders of mankind Oh creator of human kind Oh provider of flesh and blood, physical features and stature Prosody is a major instrument in most Khasi ritual performances. Ritual ­verbal expressions – a particular kind of singing which Tedlock has ­defined as a particular way to bring stress and pitch and pause into a fixed ­relationship to the words (Tedlock, 1983)13, and a certain form of parallelism (a term which designates the use of a limited number of repeated formulae, ­constantly modified with slight variations) are central to these performances. The dynamism of the use of language as a tool along with improvisation of speech and intense divine play all through the performance is absorbing. The performer appears to be in a trance, far away from the humdrum of activity. The ability to pay homage right from Ka Ïawbei (ancestress) and U Thawlang (ancestor), Ka Meikha (paternal grandmother), Ka Kmie (mother of the child), the creation story, the matrilineal system of lineage and so on, showcases his control of memorised recitation, chanting and ritual speech in the religious performance of Ka Jer Ka Thoh (naming ceremony). Such expressions of social memory which is a reflection of cultural knowledge may perhaps be characterised as traditional ‘oral tradition’”.14 Ka Jer Ka Thoh (naming ceremony) of the Khasi demonstrates the employment of symbolic communication that are verbal and non-verbal which 13 D. Tedlock, The Spoken Word and the Work of Interpretation, University of Pennsylvania Press, 1983, p. 234. 14 N. J. Diengdoh, Ka Jer Ka Thoh (naming ceremony) of the Khasi, 2015, pp. 77–78.

78  Natalie Jo-Anne Diengdoh is a combination of the use of language, sound, body gesture and expression. Language and culture are inter-dependent for language is the primary source of the society’s sustenance. The ritual performance of the Nongkñia (performer/practitioner) in the form of intra- and inter-personal communication, observed and absorbed by an unfocused group devoid of discourse, followed by the symbolic thoh pujer or marking of pujer (a paste of pounded rice powder and water) and the focused interactions which is the face-toface communication amongst all present at the ceremony, is enthralling. Since time immemorial, Khasi practitioners use oral discourse to ­express their ideas, values, norms, beliefs, superstitions and culture. Such valued indigenous knowledge systems of active participation in and observation of both formal and customary socio-religious, cultural and political ­institutions and events are passed on to their children orally. For decades, practitioners have used this indigenous learning system that evolved from the nature of culture, history, philosophy and availability of natural ­resources to acquire and acquaint themselves and others with the local knowledge required for interaction with man, nature and spirits. The practice is ancient, intact, ­holistic, profound and deep rooted and is an insightful display of spiritualism and materialism. Traditional modes of communication of the Khasi have been discussed as contextual in the form of symbols expressed in ritual performances, a­ ttire, dance and music. The cultural, inter-personal and symbolic nature of ­communication is regular, ritualistic and re-creational founded on beliefs and having various expressions. Thus, the function of traditional communication is to maintain, conserve and transmit the culture of society from generation to generation. Oral communication transmits information essential for survival and conservation of culture. Hence, culture and communication are inseparable. In the words of Edward T. Hall, it would be right to say that culture is communication in the village society. The qualities of “little community”15 such as conventional ways of life, homogeneity, self-adequacy, shared values and ethos render folk societies close knit relationships, making them dependent on inter-personal communication. Hence, integration between culture and communication is strong in folk society. “Communication in the primitive societies not only fulfils the social need, but also fulfils various physiological and survival needs of society”.16 In primitive society, communication maintains and animates life and integrates its traditional knowledge. It runs like a thread linking the past and the present cultures through various legends, lores, poems and myths.

15 While conducting research on rural society, Robert Redfield used the term ‘peasant’ while George M. Foster used the term ‘folk’ for the village society. 16 S. L. Srivastava, Folk Culture and Oral Tradition, New Delhi: Abhinav Publication, 1974, p. 3.

The Khasi oral tradition  79 An understanding of oral tradition relies not on documents which are written reflections of oral traditions but on experience gained through personal observations and experiences on the field. Transmission of communication in folk society is done on a direct and personal basis. Thus, factors like kinship and one’s position in the social hierarchical structure influence the nature of inter-personal and intra-personal communication. Findings reveal interesting insights into oral traditions from the ancient and pre-modern worlds that are surviving and are still living in the face of the evolution of modern mass media. Despite their tremendous diversity, oral traditions share certain characteristics across time and space. Most notably, they are rule-governed, using special languages and performance arenas while employing flexible patterns and structures that aid composition, ­retention and re-performance. Communication is a process whereby messages are transmitted and ­distributed in space for the control of distance and people. The basic ­fundamentals of communication are to remain grounded, at the deepest roots of our thinking and in the idea of transmission. While the field of communication has changed considerably over the last 30 years, the models presently used are the same models that were used 40 years ago. This is, in some sense a testament to their enduring value.

6 Integrating oral narratives in linguistic study of speech communities A case study of Angami Naga (Kohima village) Kelhouvinuo Suokhrie Introduction Some [regions] have high linguistic diversity because of their geographic position along [ancient] trade routes... Other[s].... have high linguistic diversity due to the presence of multiple, distinct ethnic groups... [In contrast, regions] with low levels of linguistic diversity... are often culturally homogeneous. National geographic language diversity index (cited in Satyanath 2015: 2, Asia-Pacific Language Variation, vol 1 (1) Editorial, p. 2)

Ethnic diversity in Northeast India is amply reflected in the multi-lingual setup of the region. A number of 220 diverse ethnic groups co-exist in this part of India (Benedickter 2013), where each ‘tribal community’ practices different customs (Marak 2012). Northeast India shares prehistoric cultural affinities with Southeast Asia (see Hazarika 2013), and the linguistic and cultural composition of the area indicates that it is a part of a wider region namely, Southeast Asia which cuts across political boundaries. The region is home to several language families: Tibeto-Burman, Tai, Mon-Khmer and Indo-Aryan. For example, the Tibeto-Burman languages are spread across China, India, Himalayan region and Southeast Asia. In a recent study of landscaping the languages of Northeast India, some shared linguistic features are found across Tibeto-Burman languages of the ­Himalayan region, Northeast India and mainland Southeast Asia (e.g., Burma/Myanmar) as reported in Suokhrie and Terhiija (2014).1 In addition to the linguistic ­affiliation, clan allows us to establish the cultural continuities of the two regions. Marak (2012) points out that despite changes in the social setup; the clan structure is still maintained by several communities of Northeast India. Angami Nagas is one such community which still strictly 1 The study was conducted under the supervision of Dr. Shobha Satyanath, Department of Linguistics, University of Delhi.

Oral narratives in linguistic study  81 maintains the clan structure. Linguistic study of speech communities in Northeast India among the Angamis by Suokhrie (2015), and the Sui community in China by Stanford (2007, 2008) shows cultural similarities in the clan structure, the dependence on oral tradition for clan genealogy, clan ancestry, exogamy and the importance of clan in understanding the nature of language variation in clan-based societies. Cultural continuities in clan, patrilineal setup of clans, and exogamy with mainland Southeast Asia has been reported for the Tani community in Arunachal Pradesh, Northeast India as well (see Post 2012). Majority of the societies in Northeast India lack documented history, and oral narratives in such scenario are largely utilised as a form of historical records. 2 Oral history often suggests ‘original unity, population splits, population movements, and the consequent diversifications’ (Post 2012: 158–159). This is also true in the case of the Angamis and Nagas in general where migration stories are greatly valued. Oral tradition of storytelling is the ultimate means of passing knowledge from one generation to the next in such cases. Though it has been pointed out by Burling (2012) that there is an eminent danger in manipulating migration stories to foment discontent among ethnic groups for political advantages, oral narratives still remain as an essential tool to get a glimpse of the past in the absence of documented accounts. Although the present study is primarily on linguistic investigation of variation in Angami of Kohima village (Nagaland, Northeast India) it also highlights the importance of oral narrative in understanding the clan structure. Thus oral narrative is used to revisit clan structure of Kohima village. I will attempt to demonstrate that a coherent picture of the clan structure can be constructed through oral narratives. In addition, I will also address the question, why understanding clan structure is important before any linguistic studies? First, I will discuss the clan structure in the Angami society based on the oral narratives. Second, I will discuss the marriage practices of the Angamis, and the linguistic implications of such practices on the community. Finally, I will compare and contrast the communities of Northeast India and Southeast Asia by focusing on the Angamis of Kohima village (India) with the Sui community of (China) to show how cultural continuities is maintained in the clan setup. This will give insights to the need of linguistic studies of speech communities which will benefit lesser studied communities in Northeast India. The Angami Nagas The Angamis belong to one of the major Naga groups of Nagaland. ­According to the Census of India, 2001, Angamis have a population of 2 Report on National seminar on folklore and oral history, Gauhati University, May ­21–23, 2001.

82  Kelhouvinuo Suokhrie 124,696. The Angamis are broadly divided into Northern Angamis, Southern Angamis, Western Angamis and Chakhro Angamis. Figure 6.1 shows an Angami girl in traditional attire. They are concentrated in Kohima district of Nagaland, Northeast India. It is a common knowledge that each Angami village has its own dialect (see also Sekhose 2008; Terhiija 2015). Furthermore, within a village, variation in language based on clan-­grouping (thinuo) is reported in Kohima village (Suokhrie 2015). Among the Angamis the political and religious aspects of life are governed by the village, but clan is the basic composition of the society (Hutton 2003). For the Angamis a multi-layered identity exists based on the village and the clan. The Angamis always identify themselves with the village they belong to. They lay strong emphasis on the village membership called ramia (meaning, people belonging to the same village). For example, an Angami from Kohima village will always refer to himself or herself as Kewhimia (meaning, people of Kohima village) while addressing an Angami from another village (see also Butler 1875). Furthermore, a multi-layered identity unfolds within the village as is evident in Kohima village. First, the individual is identified by his thinuo, which is a collection of chienuos or clans (Linyii 1983). Within the thinuo, there are several chienuos/clans, to which the individual identify with. Then comes the closest relation within the chienuo, that of the pfutsanuos, or the sons of a grandfather (Linyii 1983). Underneath the pfutsanuos, the zha-pengou-senyüs (five-days-mourners)

Figure 6.1  Angami damsel from Kohima village.

Oral narratives in linguistic study  83 are the closest relations. The clan structure in this sense is complex. Angamis are community oriented and children are always advised to be a part of the mechü or the community (Linyii 1983).

Oral narratives: reconstructing the past from the present Whether memory changes or not, culture is reproduced by ­remembrance put into words and deeds. The mind through memory carries culture from generation to generation….. Oral tradition should be central to students of culture, of ideology, of society, of psychology, of art, and, finally, of history. (Jan Vansina 1985; xi, Preface) From customary laws, observation of rituals, festivals, migration accounts, clan ancestry, clan organisation and other social aspects of life, the Angamis rely on oral narratives recollected from the memories of the older generation. The methodology for the present study is primarily based on linguistic study of speech community using sociolinguistic interviews for obtaining linguistic data. However, keeping in mind the oral tradition of passing knowledge, the social linguistic interviews were designed to accommodate oral narratives as well. This was done by including questions on migration stories of clans. For the purpose of collecting the oral narration on migration stories, I approached the older male members (70 to 90 years of age) from the different thinuos in the village. All the interviews were tape recorded using a Sony linear PCM and a lapel microphone. The interviews were then transcribed and analysed for linguistic data analysis. The oral narratives obtained from the interviews were subsequently used to sketch the present clan structure of the village by accounting for past mobility, exogamy and clan relations. The description of clan genealogy, clan structure and migration stories, merging and splitting of the clans in Kohima village are all based on oral narratives obtained from the sociolinguistic interviews. Clan structure and formation of thinuos in Kohima village Kohima village is a Northern Angami village. It is the biggest Angami v­ illage with a population of 15,734 with 3,374 households (Census of ­I ndia 2011). Kohima village is strictly organised on clan-based units called ­thinuos consisting of the chienuos or clans, and finally the pfutsanuos (see discussion on sub section The Angami Nagas). A glimpse of Kohima village is given in Figure 6.2. There are several versions of migration stories which vary somewhat across the thinuos. It is generally agreed that Kohima village originally had seven thinuos settled at various periods of time (personal communication with Lt. Eno. Shürhosielie Pienyü of Dapfhütsumia thinuo, 2012; see also

84  Kelhouvinuo Suokhrie

Figure 6.2  A glimpse of Kohima village (Tsütuonuomia thinuo).

Hutton 2003). As per the oral accounts, the ancestors of the seven thinuos are: Üsou, 3 Dapfhü, Pfucha, Rhieo, Huruo, Tsütuo and Tsiera who were also the early settlers. Each of the ancestors settled down in Kohima village at different periods of time. After the initial settlements, there were further internal movements among some of the clans in Kohima village. The internal movements were the results of subsequent merging and splitting up of the clans in the village after the initial settlements. Consequently, this led to a reduced number of seven to four thinuos in the present day Kohima ­village: Pfuchatsumia thinuo (merging of Üsou and Pfucha), Dapfhütsumia thinuo (merging of Dapfhü and two clans of Rhieo), Tsütuonuomia thinuo and Lhisemia4 thinuo (made up of Tsiera, Huruo and three clans of Rhieo). Kohima village is believed to be 700 years old. 5 Each of the thinuos in Kohima village occupies a separate geographical space and has its own kharu (or gate, see Figure 6.3 showing picture of a kharu in Lhisemia thinuo).6 The Lhisemia thinuo and Tsütuonuomia thinuo lie to the west, and Dapfhütsumia and Pfuchatsumia thinuo lie towards the east. An example of internal migration within the village is the dispersal of three clans of Rhieo from its original stock and their relocation to the northwestern part of the village. The other two clans of Rhieo are still settled at the ­southeastern part. The Rhieo clans in Kohima village though embedded within two different thinuos, that is, in Lhisemia thinuo and Dapfhütsumia thinuo continue to maintain their clan ties. The distinct clan identities are

3 Also Üsuo as variation in pronunciation. 4 Unlike the other thinuos the Lhisemia thinuo does not bear the name of any ancestor. It simply means ‘three varieties of people’ (see also Suokhrie 2015). 5 As per The Constitution of Kohima Village Council, 4 March, 2016. 6 The kharu belongs to the Tsiera clan of Lhisemia thinuo.

Oral narratives in linguistic study  85

Figure 6.3  A kharu at Lhisemia thinuo Kohima village.

held by the Rhieo, Huruo and Tsiera though the three forms a single unit as Lhisemia thinuo. This indicates that the accounts of clan ancestry and clan ties obtained from oral tradition are still preserved among the clans. The accounts of settlements, the internal migrations of the clans, and clan relations are made available through orality. The interesting aspect is that the current structure of clans and their locations in Kohima village do not contradict the reports in the oral narratives. Marriage practices Exogamy was the practice among the clans in Kohima village. In the past people took their spouses from other Angami villages as the blood relation among clans prevented marriage among the clans (see also Hutton 2003). The practice of exogamy changed with the increase in population. This resulted in inter- and intra-thinuo marriages in course of time. Hutton (2003)

86  Kelhouvinuo Suokhrie pointed out that such marriage practices were not recent. In a strict sense, exogamy is now only maintained among those clans sharing the same surnames. Example, Rhieo clan members can intermarry but only to someone with a different surname. In the present context, both inter-thinuo and intra-thinuo marriages are the norm. Women marry into the husband’s thinuo and became a member of the husband’s clan and thinuo after marriage.

Linguistic implications of cultural practices The clan setup is based on patriarchy and women eventually become a member of their husband’s clan and thinuo post marriage. However a woman’s original clan membership, that is her father’s clan and thinuo, remains a part of her identity even after marriage (see Suokhrie 2015). Her original clan members (males) consider it an offence when any kind of injustice is meted to her by her husband. Language variation occurs at the thinuo level. The four thinuos in Kohima village have their own clanlects which are mutually intelligible but varies to a certain degree. In the case of intra-thinuo marriages, both wife and husband speak the same variety. However, in inter-thinuo marriages we find wives and husbands speak two distinct varieties. The linguistic behaviour of the Angami women in Kohima village is not necessarily guided by instruction to maintain their clanlects or switch to the husband’s clanlect after marriage. Patriarchy in this sense is not manifested in language among the Angamis in the context of marriages within a single village as is illustrated in (1).7 However, in inter-village marriages which are cross-­d ialectal, the women are expected to learn the husband’s village dialect. INTERVIEWER:  Has anyone, the older people in particular, tell you to speak

like your husband’s clan? (in Kohima village) has ever told me things like that. However, if a woman is married into another village some people used to say stuffs like that. INTERVIEWER:  You mean when a woman is married to someone outside her village? LHUVI:  Yes when she is married into another village. They will say, “Once you have become member of their village (ramia),9 speak their language.” You know the wife of Mr. A (referring to a southern Angami woman married into Kohima village), she always speak the Zakha10 LHUVI8:  Nobody

7 Excerpt from a sociolinguistic interview conducted by the author. 8 Pseudonym. 9 ra-mia literally means ‘village- people’. 10 The woman is from Jakhama village, a southern Angami village. Spelling reflects the pronunciation of the speaker.

Oral narratives in linguistic study  87 dialect. We cannot understand her dialect. That is why people talked about her and used to comment, “It is okay if she speaks her own dialect to people from her own village, but when she is married to us and has become one of us, she does not always have to speak like that (to us). She was a Zakhamia (i.e., Zakha-people) and she married us (now she is one of us).” I did not make any conscious effort to stick on to the variety (referring to Lhisemia thinuo’s variety) that I acquired in the past (meaning- the way I spoke before marriage). But whatever I had acquired (ways of speaking) in the past (before marriage) remained with me. ‘Now that I have married to them (her husband’s clan) I will speak like them.’−Nothing like that has crossed my mind. (Lhuvi, Lhisemia thinuo married into Dapfhütsumia thinuo, 2012) Taken from Suokhrie (2015, pg. 21) Women in Kohima village continue to use their original clanlects and do not change their speech even after being married into their husband’s clan for a substantial period of time. But the linguistic behaviour of the women in Kohima village does not imply that it is way of asserting their original clan identity. They simply do not bother to change their speech and it is not expected of her from her husband’s thinuo. On the contrary, if a woman from another Angami village married into Kohima village she is expected to learn her husband’s village’s variety. However, as long as marriages are within Kohima village the conscious unlearning of one’s clanlect or learning of the husband’s clanlect is not evident. Clan and the thinuo identity are asserted in matters related to laws and customs of the village. Hence, there is no evidence of linguistic accommodation between the husband and the wife in Kohima village. Children in Kohima village inherit their father’s clan identity for life in the case of a male child. They are not advised to speak their father’s clanlect. Though in general children speak more like their father’s thinuo, in inter-thinuo marriages, children show both features of the parents’ clanlects. The internal variation in language among the Angami villages can only be understood by accounting for the clan structure. Thus, the parental clan background of an individual speaker and marriage practices held an important place in understanding the distribution of language variation in the village.

Cultural continuities: Angamis (Kohima, Northeast India) and Sui (China, Southeast Asia) In this section I will attempt to show how clan allows us to establish a cultural continuity in Northeast India and Southeast Asia by comparing the Angami Nagas in India and the Sui community in Guizhou province, southwest China. Clan is central to the social organisation of both the Angamis and the Suis. For the Angamis, clan remains the ‘real unit of social

88  Kelhouvinuo Suokhrie side’ (Hutton 1921/2003: 109). Likewise for the Sui community ‘clans are distinct and influential social units’ (Stanford 2007: 21). The social setup of the two communities are strictly clan based where source of knowledge on the clan structure, clan ancestry and exogamy are derived from folk knowledge passed on through oral narration (see Stanford 2007; Suokhrie 2015). Thus, reflecting a commonality of the two communities on their dependence on orality as well. Both the Angamis and the Suis are close knit societies where people live together as a community bounded together by clan ties. There are multiple ways in which the individual identifies themselves with their respective clans in the two communities. For the Angamis a multi-layered identity exists based on the village and the clan. The individual regard themselves first as a member of the thinuo (a clan-based unit) and then with the chienuo (clan) which is their primary identity. Under the clan the individual will identify themselves with the pfutsanuos, (the sons of a grandfather) to which they belong. It further breaks down into the zha-pengou-senyüs (five-daysmourners) where the individual has the closest relations in the clan setup (see also discussion on The Angami Nagas). In the case of the Sui too, clan membership and the sense of belonging to a particular clan is emphasised. Furthermore, it is within the clan of a village that the individual first relates to their extended family which consists of the adult sons of the parents, and as belonging to a particular nuclear family (Stanford 2007). The clan structure for both the Angamis and the Suis is elaborate where the individual has multiple levels of determining themselves as a member of the clan. The marriage practices of the Angamis and the Suis are one of the interesting indexes on cultural similarities of the two communities. Exogamy is observed among the clans and the clan setup is essentially patriarchy. Both the Angamis and the Suis women marry into the husband’s clan after marriage as women are expected to move into the husband’s clan/village post marriage. In the case of the Suis, married women continue to maintain her father’s clan name post marriage though this is not necessarily followed by the Angamis. However, in both the communities clan acts as the unit for the practice of exogamy where marriages within the same clan and the same surnames are not favoured. The Angamis considered it a taboo and have aversion towards such practices. The Suis call forth for “severe punishment” (Tang & Wei 2001 cited in Stanford 2007: 21) for such practices. In terms of local customs the Angamis give much importance to the parents and close relatives in matters related to organising a marriage. The Angami parents and related family members are given the responsibility to deal with the proposal as well as planning for the marriage. Similarly the Sui community also gives the parents and a relative the role to mediate the arrangements for the prospective bride and groom (see Stanford 2007). For the Angamis as well as the Suis the end of wedding feast takes place at the husband’s place/village. This serves as an indication that the woman has become a member of her husband’s clan and village.

Oral narratives in linguistic study  89 As for linguistic practices the original clanlects are maintained by both the Angami and Sui women even after being married into the husband’s clan for a long period of time. However, it is expected of the Sui women to do so as a sign of loyalty to their father’s clan (see Stanford 2007). In the case of women from Kohima village their behaviour is not dictated by a sense of loyalty towards the father’s clan (Suokhrie 2015). In both the communities the social as well as economic factors do not affect the clanlects as there are no social prestige issues attached to any of the clanlects (see Stanford 2007; Suokhrie 2015). The similarities highlighted above in terms of cultural practices pertaining to clan organisation, exogamy and linguistic practices give a glimpse of a continuity that goes beyond political boundaries of Northeast India and Southeast Asia. The urgent need of the moment is to undertake similar studies of speech communities which will provide us a more complete understanding of language in its social and cultural context. There is also a need to make use of the past accounts obtained through oral traditions to access the direction of changes taking place in these communities. In this case the oral tradition of the communities lacking in documented history can offer substantial knowledge of the past. A linguistic documentation alone devoid of its social and cultural embedding by itself has not proved a very fruitful experience.

References Benedickter, Thomas, ed. 2013. Minority Languages in India. An Appraisal of the Linguistic Rights of Minorities in India. Bozen/Bolzano: EURASIA-Net Partners. Burling, Robbins. 2012. Where Did the Question “Where Did My Tribe Come From?” Come From? In Origins and Migrations in the Extended Eastern Himalayas. Toni Huber and Stuart Blackburn, eds. Pp. 49–62. Leiden: Brill. Butler, Captain John. 1875. Rough Notes on the Angami Nagas and Their Language. Journal of the Bengal Asiatic Part I (4): 308–346. Census of India. 2001. Angami Population Nagaland. Data Highlights: The Schedule Tribes. http://censusindia.gov.in/Tables_Published/SCST/dh_st_nagaland. pdf, November 10, 2016. Census of India. 2011. District Census Handbook, Kohima. http://www.­censusindia. gov.in/2011census/dchb/DCHB_Nagaland.html?drpQuick=&drpQuickSelect= &q=kohima+population+2011, November 10, 2016. Hazarika, Manjil. 2013. Prehistoric Cultural Affinities between Southeast Asia, East Asia and Northeast India: An Exploration. vol. 1. In Unearthing Southeast Asia’s Past. Pp. 16–25. Selected papers from the 12th International Conference of the European Association of South East Asian Archaeologists, Leiden, September 1–5, 2008. International Institute for Asian Studies, Leiden, the Netherlands. Singapore: National University. Hutton, John Henry. 2003[1921]. The Angami Nagas. Reprint. Kohima: Directorate of Art and Culture, Government of Nagaland.

90  Kelhouvinuo Suokhrie Linyii, Keviyiekielie. 1983. The Angami Church since 1950. B. D. thesis, United Theological College, Bangalore. Marak, Q. 2012. Culture Change and Continuity among the Tribal Communities in North-East India: An Overview. Journal of the Indian Anthropological ­Society 47: 153–166. Post, Mark W. 2012. The Language, Culture, Environment and Origins of ­Proto-Tani Speakers: What is Knowable, and What is Not (Yet). In Origins and Migrations in the Extended Eastern Himalayas. Toni Huber and Stuart Blackburn, eds. Pp. 153–186. Leiden: Brill. Sekhose, Thejangunuo. 2008. A Dialectal Study of Southern Angami. M.A. thesis, Department of Tenyidie, University of Nagaland. Stanford, James N. 2007. Dialect Contact and Identity: A Case Study of Exogamous Sui Clans. Ph.D. dissertation, Michigan State University. Stanford, James N. 2008. Child Dialect Acquisition: New Perspectives on Parent/ Peer Influence. Journal of Sociolinguistic 12(5): 567–596. Suokhrie, Kelhouvinuo. 2015. Internal Variation in Angami: A Case Study of Kohima Village. M. Phil. dissertation, Department of Linguistics, University of Delhi. Suokhrie, Kelhouvinuo & Terhiija, Viyazonuo. 2014. Fricatives and Affricates across Languages of North Eastern India: Landscaping Languages of North Eastern India. Paper Presented at the North East Indian Linguistic Society (NEILS), Gauhati University, January 31–February 2. Terhiija, Viyazonuo. 2015. A Study of Southern Angami Dialects in Space. M. Phil. dissertation, Department of Linguistics, University of Delhi. Vansina, Jan. 1985. Oral Tradition as History. Madison: The University of ­Wisconsin Press.

7 Pottery technology in Garo Hills An ethnoarchaeological interpretation Queenbala Marak Introduction Pottery, one of the most pliable and plastic materials ever known to human ingenuity, has been used throughout centuries in different forms – from the prehistoric past to the present days. The technology of pottery has undergone change from a very simple handmade method where the potter gives shape to a lump of clay with bare hands, to the most sophisticated method of shaping clay on machine-run wheels. It is clear that the technology i­nvolved in the making of pots can reveal much about socio-economic dynamics as well as the cognition of a group of people. Indigenous p ­ ottery-making techniques in Northeast India (including Garo Hills) continue to be at the nascent stage in terms of development, but are quite evolved in terms of ingenuity and socio-cultural connotations. In Northeast India, it is only from the 1960s that pottery – both archaeological as well as ethnographic – received some attention, though still insufficient. One of the pioneering archaeologists Sharma (1967) for the first time studied cord-marked Neolithic pottery recovered from Daojali Hading in erstwhile North Cachar Hills district, Assam, and surmised on the basis of similarity that it belonged to the Eastern Asiatic Neolithic tradition. Thereafter, Roy (1977, 2004) described pottery from both the archaeological (potsherds found in Garo Hills, and Daojali Hading) and the ethnographic (Hira and Kumar communities of Assam) contexts, and emphasised a connect with East Asian traditions. In Manipur, Singh (1999, 2008) undertook extensive fieldwork, and suggested that the cord-marked pottery tradition of Manipur might have arrived from southern China via Assam. Ashraf (1990) studied pottery from the archaeological site of Parsi Parlo in Kamala valley, Arunachal Pradesh, and found similarity with the present-day Nishi traditions. Medhi (1992) undertook an ethnographic study on the present-day pottery-making traditions of the Hira and ­Kumar communities of Nalbari district, Assam. In recent years mention may be made of the ethnographic works done on different communities of the ­region by ManiBabu (2010, 2015), Gachui (2014), Ngullie (2014) and Vasa (2014) among others.

92  Queenbala Marak Since the prehistoric past, some of the technologies known to people in the Garo Hills region of Meghalaya are stone tool and pottery-making knowledge as evidenced from artefactual finds. Stone tools have been reported from many parts of the region, and according to some authors, they show continuity in terms of morphology as well as functional characteristics (Roy 1981; Marak 2005, 2014). The reports of finds of pottery however are comparatively rarer and far between. Nevertheless, pottery in the archaeological context has been reported from Neolithic sites in West Garo Hills, such as Selbalgre (Roy 1977, 2004), even though the present author has not come across any. These reported potsherds have not been dated, but due to its associated finds, it is assumed to be prehistoric in nature. Unlike other places in Northeast India (Assam, Manipur and Nagaland) where pottery as an art still continues and is being reinvented, in Garo Hills it is a rare and dying art. A few of the non-Garo potter caste groups originally from the neighbouring (Plains) regions, but now settled in Garo Hills, however continue their trade. The Pal community from Tikrikilla, Dalu and Singimari make pots even today for a living, but they are potters who use the potter’s wheel, and who over the years have brought in their craft of making pots from the Plains regions. Indigenous Garo potters, however, are rare. Half a decade ago, it was a comparatively common sight to see Garo women digging out clay and making pots for their daily use or for barter. Today there are very few women (and their families) who make pots in Garo Hills. These families are located in Siju, Nengkong and Asakgre ­villages in South Garo Hills district of Meghalaya. I refer to Siju as the ­“nuclear area” of pot-making since the potters today even from other areas refer to it as the “mother zone” of pottery making. Today, in ­Williamnagar, East Garo Hills, a Self Help Group (SHG) formed by a group of women make pots. Interestingly, for making these pots, they collect a type of clay found only in Siju which they refer to as dikka or a’a dikka. Interestingly, dikka refers to the big pot where rice beer is fermented as well (see Figure 7.10).

Pot making in Garo Hills – ethnographic account Pots are made by forming a clay body into objects of a required shape and heating them to high temperatures which removes all the water from the clay, which induces reactions that lead to permanent changes including increasing their strength and hardening and setting their shape. There are usually three methods of pot making: (a) Coil method, (b) Mould method, and (c) Potter’s wheel method. The method of making pots by the Garos is the handmade technology and more specifically the mould method. In the following the different stages of making pots are given.

Pottery technology in Garo Hills  93 Raw material and its procurement For Garos, clay (or sticky soil) is the only raw material required in the making of a pot. This clay referred to as a∙dikka by the Garos is not found at all places. There are certain localities where this soil is found, and the knowledge of the locations is passed on generation to generation through oral traditions. Garos have experimented with varieties of soil, but the best soil for making pots is considered to be the a∙dikka soil. Siju, in South Garo Hills District, is one place where this soil is found. The topsoil is not used. The soil at a depth of 2 feet below the surface is collected for making the pots. Since the soil is collected from deep inside the earth, it is believed that the quarry looks like a rat-hole mining. This deep quarry is interestingly depicted in local lore as well.1 Today, potters from different locations in Garo Hills usually collect a∙dikka from Siju either directly or through a middleman. The procurement of this clay is therefore very arduous and takes time, since after digging it out, it has to be carried manually over long distances. Some of the potters carry it over 10–15 km to their own villages, while those who use a middleman shell out a large amount of money. The clay that is dug out is then left to dry in the sun for days till it dries up completely. This clay is then broken into small pieces to allow the preparation of clay for pot-making. These clay lumps and granules are then pounded to a fine powder manually. Tools used in making pots are comparatively very simple. They are usually items that are found in all houses (Figure 7.1). These include the following: 1 Mortar and pestle – This is used for pounding dry clay into fine powder. 2 Bamboo sieves – These are required to sieve the powdered clay into finer grains. It is believed that finer the grains, the smoother the pots will be. 3 Different sizes of diplak (paddle/beater), turs (small ladle), ro∙ong (stone, used as anvil), sui seeds (polisher), old mats and old pieces of cloths, etc. 4 Old pots as moulds – Since the method of making pots is the mould method, Garos require old pots to be used as a base. 1 One of the local lore tells of a group of women potters who were left to die inside a deep man-made cavern under the ground. In Siju in the long past, a group of women went to collect clay for making pots. As they were deep inside the hole in the ground from where they were digging for raw material, a huge rock rolled down the hill and blocked the entrance to the hole. The women panicked and cried out to their husbands and family members for help. The villagers, including their family members, hearing the calls for help, came to investigate the matter and found that the women were stuck under the stone. Instead of trying to remove the stone, they called out to the women, saying: “we are fine, do not worry about us”, and so saying, they left the poor women to their deaths.

94  Queenbala Marak

Figure 7.1  Tools required in pot-making.

Steps in the making of a pot Pot-making among the Garos follows the mould method. In the following, the different steps are given chronologically. 1 Stage 1 – Preparation of Clay: The a∙dikka clay is dug out from below the top soil. This is then laid out under the sun to dry. Once dry, it is broken up into chunks and granules. Stalks of grass and other impurities are cleaned from this dry clay. This is then pounded in the mortar with a pestle. This is next passed through a bamboo sieve to get a fine powder. Depending on the fineness of the sieve and the number of times the clay is sieved, the finer will be the consistency of the clay. This fine powder is then mixed with water and kneaded with hand to get an elastic consistency that the potter feels is correct. This kneaded clay is then considered ready for pot-making (Figure 7.2). 2 Stage 2 – Fabrication 1: A lump of clay is then taken and patted out to flatten it. It is then placed on a flat surface, mat, or a bamboo sieve and then the peripheral edges of the lump of clay are spread out using the fingers (Figure 7.3). So that the clay does not stick, the fingers are dipped in water. Additionally, care is taken to do the spreading of the clay on a clean surface, for if any impurities get mixed with the clay, it is believed, it will crack when burnt. The process of spreading out the edges of the clay continues till it reaches the required size – depending on the size of the pot. Care is taken so that the layer of clay being spread out is as even as possible – so that there is no (or less) inconsistency in terms of the thickness of clay. Once the required size is achieved then the spread-out clay is carefully lifted and placed over the mould (an old pot) (Figure 7.4). It is then patted over the mould and its edges smoothed out by taking out

Pottery technology in Garo Hills  95

Figure 7.2  Kneaded clay ready for use.

Figure 7.3  Spreading out the clay on a mat.

96  Queenbala Marak

Figure 7.4  Sheet of clay placed over an old pot.

the extra and unwanted segments. In order to make the outer edges smooth sometimes water is also used. Usually, hands and fingers are used to smooth out the surface as much as possible – finally getting a smooth surface. Sometimes a piece of cloth is placed over the mould before placing the clay sheet so that it becomes easy to take off the clay later. These are then kept in the sun to dry on the moulds. Drying is done for over 5–7 hours till it is semi-dry and not completely dry. 3 Stage 3 – Fabrication 2: When the clay moulds are semi-dry, a wooden paddle or beater is used to lightly beat all over the outer surface (with the clay still over the moulds) till a smoothened surface is procured. The clay is next taken out of the mould and then with the help of the paddle/beater and a polishing stone, the walls of the pot are smoothened and made thinner and consistent (Figure 7.5). When a pot requires a neck or a rim, this is the stage where they are added. An elongated piece of clay is added to the top of the clay mould. This is then smoothened with the help of water and left to dry. Then again after an hour or so, it is beaten with the help of the paddle/beater to smoothen it. If the pot is small or has a neck, then the inside wall of the pot is smoothened with a small bamboo ladle called turs. This is the stage where all rough edges are smoothed out.

Pottery technology in Garo Hills  97

Figure 7.5  Outer walls of the pot are smoothed with a paddle/beater.

This half-made pot is then kept to dry for a couple of hours. Then it is again smoothened with the help of water. At this stage, an old rag is first dipped in water, then the wet rag is used to softly wipe the whole pot so that the surface is very smooth. This smoothened pot is then left to dry to a leather-hard condition. At times, the pots are left to dry overnight. 4 Stage 4 – Polishing: Once the pots are in a leather-hard condition, they are then polished till it gets a sheen on the surface. Polishing is done with sui seeds; the seeds are rubbed softly all over the outer surface of the pots (Figure 7.6). This is a time-consuming task, but a job that can be relegated to new potters, or even to children. Once the pots have been polished, they are again kept aside for sometime before the smoking or pre-firing stage. 5 Stage 5 – Pre-Firing: The polished and dry pots are next pre-fired or smoked before firing them. Usually, these pots are kept in the kitchen on the bamboo platform called ongare above the fireplace, or near the fireplace for days altogether so that it slowly gets dried and smoked. This stage is of utmost importance if the resultant pots are to come out without any cracks. It is believed that if any water content is still in the pot, then it will crack when fired. 6 Stage 6 – Firing: This is the final stage in the pot-making process. Firing brings in a chemical change in the clay so that it becomes durable and can be used for storing water as well as a cooking vessel. Firing takes place in an open area where firewood and dried bamboo are used to fire the pots (Figure 7.7). Here, the smoked or pre-fired pots are placed carefuly one on top of the other. Over these, dried wood, bamboo, and dried leaves are placed and then set on fire. The fire has to be stoked so that it does not die down or becomes smoky. Once the fire

98  Queenbala Marak

Figure 7.6  A pot being polished.

Figure 7.7  Pots are fired openly.

dies down, then the pots are taken out and placed aside till they cool down. Once cool, they are cleaned with dry grass stalks. Once firing is over, the pots acquire a reddish tint even though no slip or colour is applied. The difference between a baked (or fired) pot and an

Pottery technology in Garo Hills  99 unbaked one can therefore be clearly seen due to the difference in colour. Once firing is complete, the pot is ready to be used.

Types and functions of Garo pottery Traditional pottery – on the basis of size, shape and function – is only of a few types. In the following, pottery based on morphology and function is discussed. Morphological types In terms of morphological form, i.e. shape and size, pots can be classified into the following types. a

Open-mouthed pot: These look like bowls but are of different sizes ranging from small to large ones. These pots do not have a neck. ­However, in some rims are present (see Figure 7.8). b Pots with neck: These pots are also of different sizes. These pots have a neck and a rim (see Figure 7.9). c Amphora: These are thick and heavy pots shaped like a large jar or amphora (see Figure 7.10). d Miscellaneous types. Open-mouthed pots These pots look like large bowls. Some of the small-sized pots in this category range from 5 to 7 cm in diameter. However, the largest ones can be over 2 m in diameter. These are pots with an open mouth with or without rim. They do not have a neck. These pots usually have a rounded base, such that it does not stand properly and gets tilted when kept standing. Again, depending on the rim, these pots can be divided into three types: (a) pots with a splayed rim, (b) pots with a pronounced rim (like thick lips), and (c) pots with a thin rim. These pots are called samdik, i.e. a curry pot. However, based on the size, there are specific names for these pots, even though these open-mouthed pots are all called by the generic name samdik. Dikrong is a small-sized pot of approximately 5 cm in diameter. The next pot, in terms of size is the samdik – this has an average diameter of 15–20 cm. Matchamdik is a large pot with dimensions of about 30 cm in diameter, while the largest open-mouthed pot is the Sangkho which can range from 40 to 50 cm in diameter. The commonly found pots however are the samdik and dikrong (Figure 7.8). Pots with neck These pots are of various sizes; however, all of them have a neck. Again, depending on the neck, these can be divided into two groups: (a) pot with

100  Queenbala Marak

Figure 7.8  Open-mouthed pots: samdik (l) and dikrong (r).

splayed out rim and long neck with carination, and (b) pot with less moderate neck with a slightly flared out rim with body bulging out. These pots are referred to as medik, i.e. rice pots. These are also of different sizes. Again, just like the samdik, these pots also have specific names though the generic name is medik. These pots range from about 8–10 cm in height to about 1 m in height, or even more. The diku is the smallest pot of about 8–10 cm in height. This is followed by the medik which can be of varying sizes, the average size being about 20 cm in height (Figure 7.9). The largest pot in this category is the rongdik which can vary from approximately 50 cm to 100 cm or more. Amphora These are thick and heavy pots with constricted neck and short flared out and thickened rim. The body is slightly rounded and supported by a ring made of bamboo and the pot is enclosed by bamboo to retain weight due to its heavy contents. These pots are usually called dikka (see Figure 7.10). The amphora-type pots can also range in sizes from around 50 cm to 200 cm in height. Miscellaneous types There are also other types of pots that are nowadays made by Garo potters. These are usually new types of pots or pots meant as decorative items or for other uses, such as piggy banks, ash trays, flower pots, etc. These usually do not have a specific type of shape, and depends on the potters’ creativity and the consumers’ demand.

Pottery technology in Garo Hills  101

Figure 7.9  Pots with neck: medik (l) and diku (r).

Functions of pots Among Garos pots are usually utilitarian in nature. However, some of the pots in the past were used for ceremonial purposes too. The types of pots on the basis of function are given below. Utilitarian Pots: These pots are used for domestic purposes. Again, depending on the purpose, these can be grouped as under: Cooking pots The main function of pots is for cooking. i Medik – As the name suggests, the medik or the pot with the neck (see Figure 7.9) is the rice pot. This is the pot that is used to cook rice. Therefore, depending on the requirement of the family, the size of the pot would vary. ii Samdik – The samdik is the curry pot (see Figure 7.8). This is the pot that is used to cook curry. Just like the medik, the size of the samdik also depends on family requirements. The small-sized samdik called dikrong is used as a bowl. Storing pots Pots are also used to store items such as food grains, water, etc. Some of these uses are mentioned below: i Water storing pot – Traditionally Garos stored water in large bamboo and gourd containers; however today it is seen that large pots with neck (medik) are also sometimes used, though rarely.

102  Queenbala Marak ii Grains storing pot – Large medik (open-mouthed pots) like the rongdik are used for storing rice and other grains. The name rongdik itself refers to a “rice grain storer”. iii Seeds storing pot – The small pots like the diku and dikrong are used as seeds storer, i.e. to store seeds. Ceremonial Pots: The large-sized pots can be referred to as ceremonial pots since they are used during ceremonial occasions and not on a daily basis. These pots are used on special occasions like birth, marriage, or death ­ceremonies for communal cooking since the size of these pots is large and they can accommodate more food. The large open-mouthed pots like matchamdik and sangkho are used for cooking curry for a large gathering. These curries would usually comprise of meat such as beef, or pork, cooked with naturally procured alkali called kalchi or with the addition of rice powder to thicken the gravy. These days however meat curry is also cooked in mustard oil with the addition of ­various spices. It is believed that meat cooked in these pots enhances the flavour of the meat. However, the larger pots with neck (medik) are used to cook rice for a large gathering. Sacred Pots: The amphora-type pots called dikka are used as rice beer pots, i.e. to ferment rice beer (Figure 7.10). Originally, rice beer was prepared for different rituals and ceremonies among the Garos. This is considered sacred since it is offered to the gods and spirits in each and every ritual, before it is consumed by men and women. Therefore, these pots where rice beer is fermented can also be considered sacred in nature. However, today few households make rice beer solely for consumption and not for any rituals. Morpho-functional classification The pots can be classified in the following manner on the basis of their morphology and function (Table 7.1).

Pottery in the archaeological context The pottery types I mention here are from the works of Roy (1977, 2004) which was based on potsherds found in a trial excavation. In 1967, a trial trench was opened up at the site of Selbalgre (25°30’-45’E and 90°15’30’E), West Garo Hills under the supervision of Goswami and Sharma of Gauhati University. In this excavation together with Neolithic tools a number of potsherds were found. These potsherds were fragmentary and heavily weathered. Based on the colour of the surface of the sherds, and nature of fabric, the whole pottery assemblage can be grouped into the following (Table 7.2). Group A is red in colour. A1 contains a large number of transparent quartz grits making the surface rough. Roy (2004) mentions that nothing

Pottery technology in Garo Hills  103

Figure 7.10  Chu dikka, the rice beer pots.

could be deduced regarding the method of construction, but possibly these were made by hand. Additionally, firing might have been done in the open. A2 is light red in colour, and the inner surfaces were found to be comparatively smoother. The sherds were moderately thin, possibly handmade, and fired in the open. However they have less grits than A1. In A3, an application of slip was seen on the inner surface of the sherds. These sherds were possibly used for cooking due to its blackish outer surface (ibid: 88). Group B pottery is greyish in colour and was categorised into three subtypes. B1 contained a large number of quartz grits giving the appearance of white spots on the sherds. Possibly these were handmade, and not fired under high temperature. B2 was grey on the external surface while the inner surface was smooth and blackish in colour. The clay was found to be compact – possibly due to the use of beaters. The internally smoothed surface indicated that these pots might have been used for cooking or for similar purpose. The colour of B3 is light grey containing a fair amount of sand particles.

104  Queenbala Marak Table 7.1  Morpho-functional classification of pots Type of pot

Brief description

Purpose

Decoration, if any

Medik

Pot with a wide neck; with lid and without lid Open-mouthed pot; with lid and without lid Layered pot with a wide constricted neck; with or without lid; holes in the upper layer for steam to come through Large pot with a wide neck and mouth; usually has a lid Large amphora-type pot with a wide neck and mouth; bamboo and cane casings around it for support Large open-mouthed pot; usually without a lid

Cooking rice

Plain, no decoration

Cooking curry

Plain, no decoration

Cooking minil rice

Plain, no decoration

Storing rice and other grains

Plain, no decoration

Fermenting rice beer

Plain, no decoration

Samdik Minil medik

Rongdik Dikka

Sangkho

Used for dry-frying rice Plain, no decoration to make chira (flattened rice) or rice beer Storing seeds, etc. Plain, no decoration

Small-sized pot with a constricted neck Dikrong Small-sized open-mouthed Storing seeds, etc.; also pot; usually without a lid used as bowls Miscellaneous Cups, bowls, plates, For daily use as well as items decorative items for decoration only Diku

Plain, no decoration Mostly with decorations like appliqué and incised designs

Table 7.2  Potsherds from the archaeological context Group

Type of ware

Sub-type Morphological types

Group A

Red Ware

Group B

Grey Ware

Group C

Grey & Red Ware

A1 A2 A3 B1 B2 B3

Splayed lip with beaked edge Slightly flared out lips Type not known Splayed lip with beaked edge Type not known Neck of a bowl Slightly flared out lip with round edge & short neck

Group C pottery is characterised by externally red and internally grey surface. The clay is rich in quartz grits. The colour of the postsherds indicated that the inner surface ceased to receive oxygen supply unlike the outer surface. This could be due to inverted firing or accidental detachment in oxygen supply.

Pottery technology in Garo Hills  105 The Selbalgre potsherds from the archaeological context were plain and devoid of any decoration. It showed three different colours (Group A, B, C). However it is to be noted that the colour is not due to application of colour or slip on the pots – but rather due to different firing conditions. When pots are fired in reducing conditions then the colour turns greyish. From the examination of the texture, sherds, rim and neck, Roy (1977, 2004) surmised that they were handmade pottery. In some cases the internal surfaces were found to be smoothed by further treatment. From this Roy (2004) assumed that these were open-mouthed bowls, but the absence of further oxidation on the outer surface of these fragments indicated that they were not used as cooking vessels.

Discussion Archaeological pottery from Garo Hills is found to be quite different from those found in Daojali Hading (Assam), Sarutaru (Assam-Meghalaya border) and Jotsoma (Nagaland). In these places, the representative pottery found was cord-impressed or cord-marked (Sharma 1967; Rao 1977; Jamir & Vasa 2001). The cord-marked pottery is taken to be representative of Southeast Asia and East Asia and hence authors have stated some possible links with those places. However, these types of pots are completely missing in the Garo Hills context. Here, pottery is plain and simple without any decoration (Roy 1977, 2004). These find parallels in the ethnographic context. Studies on the present living communities reveal that the pottery is plain without any cord marks or decoration since the paddle or beater used is plain (see Figure 7.1). Additionally, no other decoration in the form of appliqué, incision, colour, etc. is seen both in the archaeological as well as ethnographic c­ ontext (except in the new types). In terms of colour, no slip or additional dye is used. The different colours, that Roy (1977, 2004) classified the types into, were possibly due to the raw material and firing conditions. Just as ­oxidation under high temperature changes the colour to red, so too firing under reducing conditions makes the colour on the pot or the core greyish. The polishing with the sui seeds additionally gives a sheen to the pottery (see ­Figure 7.6). In this context, Ngullie (2014), who conducted her study among the Poumais and Lothas, revealed that pots when not in use were kept above the kitchen hearth. The pots even when not in use were continuously exposed to heat and smoke and as a consequence the pots were stained with soot thus giving a glossy surface. Such type of pottery can be sometimes mistaken in the archaeological context as slipped and burnished. In terms of the raw material used, it is seen that archaeological pottery contained a large amount of grits. In some the grits were quite large and numerous such that some potsherds (B1) showed white spots on the sherds. Perhaps these grits were intentionally added on to the clay as tempering material so as to lessen the stickiness of the clay. However, interestingly in

106  Queenbala Marak the present times, no tempering material has been added. Rather the clay that is used is pounded to a fine powder – and it is believed by the women potters that if any such impurity exists in the clay, the pot will crack when fired. The clay is found to be highly compact due to the use of beaters too. Roy (1977, 2004) could not surmise the exact shape or type of prehistoric pottery due to its fragmentary nature. However, it is likely that the types used in the prehistoric context must have been only a few. In the ethnographic context, when we analyse the types, there are in reality only two types: (a) pots with neck and (b) pots without neck. There are different variations of these two main types. Shape and size depends on the functionality of the vessels, and therefore, since Garo pottery is mainly utilitarian in nature, it is likely that it gets reflected in its types. The function of archaeological pottery is also difficult to surmise, even though it is highly likely that some of them might have been used for cooking due to the blackish oxidised colour on the outside. The knowledge system behind the making of pottery no doubt is passed through oral sources from generation to generation. However, there is seen to be much secrecy (and lore) connected to this craft. Among Poumais of Senapati district, Manipur, only Oinam villagers were allowed to make pottery. It is strongly believed that if anyone from other villages makes pottery, bad things will befall them (Ngullie 2014). Among Chakesangs of Nagaland, the chief or the priest cannot make pots, nor can the other groups of the Aos except the Changki (Vasa 2014). This social situation is explained beautifully by ManiBabu (2015) when he discusses the ­“boundary-maintaining mechanism” (p. 64) of the Andros of Manipur. Among this group, unmarried girls are not taught the craft. They learn it only after they get married and are taught by the husband’s female relatives. The logic behind this, he states, is that if the girls get married outside the community after acquiring the knowledge of pottery techniques there are chances of spreading the craft to their husband’s family and community. Since Garos are matrilineal, it is likely that the art of making pots will pass on from women to women within the matrilineage – from mothers, aunts and grandmothers. However, from interviews it was revealed that the knowledge of making pots by the present women potters was learnt from elderly women of different matrilineages – and not necessarily their own – but from the same village. Women from other villages were reluctant to teach the art, unless they were related through kinship. This indicates that unlike the Aos, the Poumais or the Andros, the Garos did not have any specific clans or village that has or had monopoly over the craft. Some potters might have been experts, but it is unlikely that there would be specialised class of potters among them. A century back, in 1909, Playfair mentioned that even though Garo women can make them, they prefer to purchase the cooking pots from the traders in the Plains. Pottery making, in the past, was not a means to subsistence or a strategy to meet household needs. It was rather a part-time

Pottery technology in Garo Hills  107 activity, crafted during periods of lean season. Quite understandably, pottery is a dying art in Garo Hills today. The use of different cooking pots and the usage of rice beer pots have drastically gone down, and these handmade pots are a rarity. Varieties of cooking pots are easily available in the market, manufactured and sold by wheel-made potters of the Plains. Additionally, even though it is known that food habits have very less relation with religion, with the coming of Christianity, many Garos gave up the brewing and consumption of rice beer. This has also negatively impacted the demand for these pots.

Conclusion It is difficult to compare two different situations: the present and past. Nevertheless, an attempt was made in these pages to see whether any parallels existed and its implications. Much similarity was witnessed in the crafts of the two temporal situations, and it is likely that the present tradition (i.e. the ethnographic pottery) might have been followed even in the past. Of academic interest are the contradictions that the ethnographic study revealed. This I refer to as “busting of myths”, i.e. archaeological myths – that we have learnt as the truth – do not hold true in the Garo Hills context. First, it is believed that handmade pottery contains a fair amount of grits. In reality, it was seen that there were very less or no grits, since the clay powder was finely sieved. Second, all pottery requires tempering material, i.e. to give more consistency to the paste, finely cut cotton, straw or sand is mixed with the clay. In reality, no tempering material is used in Garo Hills. The raw material used for making pots was 100 per cent clay. Garo pottery is women’s art – manufactured solely by women. This could be also due to the usage of these pots – in the household activities alone, i.e. cooking and storing. Even though today rice beer is made and brewed even by men, in the past the making of rice beer was solely a women’s job – such that a woman’s suitability for marriage was based on the brew that she could make! This women-centric activity finds fruition even when we analyse the tools that are used for pottery manufacture. However, much change has occurred today in the realms of pottery making. Market economy and religion has impacted strongly and negatively on this craft. Today, this dying craft needs to be revived through government and community development initiatives. The few remaining potters who know the craft need to be recognised, and efforts should be made to disseminate the knowledge to the next generation.

References Ashraf, A. A. 1990. Prehistoric Arunachal: A Study of Prehistory and Ethnoarchaeology of Kamala Valley. Itanagar: Directorate of Research, Government of Arunachal Pradesh.

108  Queenbala Marak Gachui, R. 2014. An Oinam Poumai potter at work: Some implications for ceramic ethnoarchaeology. In T. Jamir and M. Hazarika (eds.), 50 Years after Daojali Hading: Emerging Perspectives in the Archaeology of Northeast India. New Delhi: Research India Press, 218–226. Jamir, T., and D. Vasa. 2001. Further excavations at Jotsoma, Nagaland. In Proceedings of North East India History Association, 21st Session, Imphal, 40–54. ManiBabu, M. 2010. Ethnoarchaeology of ceramic reuse and discard behaviour of the Andro of Manipur. The Oriental Anthropologist, 10(2): 155–167. ManiBabu, M. 2015. Cultural transmission and social contexts of pottery making among the Andros of Manipur, India. In S. Sengupta (ed.), Explorations in Anthropology of North East India. Delhi: Gyan, 52–78. Marak, Q. 2005. The use of analogy in the interpretation of prehistoric cultures: A study among the Garos of Garo Hills, Meghalaya. South Asian Anthropologist, 5(2): 167–172. Marak, Q. 2014. Experimenting with stone tools: The Garo Neoliths. In T. Jamir and M. Hazarika (eds.), 50 Years after Daojali Hading: Emerging Perspectives in the Archaeology of Northeast India. New Delhi: Research India Press, 183–191. Medhi, B. 1992. The potters and pottery of Nalbari District, Assam: A study on ethnohistory and ethnoarchaeology. Ph.D. Thesis, Gauhati University. Ngullie, R. 2014. Ceramic technology on Northeast India. In T. Jamir and M. Hazarika (eds.), 50 Years after Daojali Hading: Emerging Perspectives in the Archaeology of Northeast India. New Delhi: Research India Press, 199–205. Playfair, A. 1975[1909]. The Garos. Guwahati/Delhi: Spectrum Publications. Rao, S. N. 1977. Excavations at Sarutaru: A Neolithic site in Assam. Man and Environment, 1: 39–43. Roy, S. K. 1977. A study of the ceramics from the Neolithic to Medieval period of Assam: An ethnoarchaeological approach. Ph.D. Thesis, Gauhati University. Roy, S. K. 1981. Aspects of Neolithic agriculture and shifting cultivation in Garo Hills, Meghalaya. Asian Perspectives, 14(2): 193–219. Roy, S. K. 2004. Ceramics of Northeast India: Ethnoarchaeological Perspective. Delhi/Itanagar: Himalayan Publication. Sharma, T. C. 1967. A note on the Neolithic pottery of Assam. Man (NS), 2(1): 126–128. Singh, O. K. 1999. Cord-marked pottery making traditions in Manipur. Puratattva, 29: 60–67. Singh, O. K. 2008. Pottery through the Ages in Manipur. Imphal: Amusana Institute of Antiquarian Studies. Vasa, D. 2014. Experimenting non-material aspect of pottery of Nagaland: Some theoretical and historical considerations. In T. Jamir and M. Hazarika (eds.), 50 Years after Daojali Hading: Emerging Perspectives in the Archaeology of Northeast India. New Delhi: Research India Press, 206–217.

8 Constancy and change A study on the traditional and colonial built forms of the Khasis Aiban S. Mawkhroh This study is based on the premise that houses being a human product of a pronounced practical character have a particular ability to show how values and cultural traditions give meaning to daily life through the process of cultural symbolization. Tribal societies are an example of a strong social structure built upon the foundation of tradition. In these societies, tradition has the force of a law honoured by everyone through collective consent. Their house form is closely linked to various aspects of their culture such as their belief ­system, value system and social system, thus creating a harmonious environment. Since these societies are tradition oriented, their house was not the result of an individual or personal desire but of a group sharing common belief and values. They are made by the people who dwell in them and, therefore, these houses directly symbolize the shared cultural ideas of the society. As built form is a product of culture, the underlying patterns of culture which are reflected in the built forms are the social and belief systems of the time. Architecture has the capacity to symbolize this belief and value systems of a society. The physical system of the environment, climate, materials and construction techniques are themselves, choices governed by cultural factors. These physical factors are just modifying and adaptation factors that help man to shape his culturally determined dwelling. That is why, traditional houses in typical environmental parameters around the world are different in forms. Thus, house forms are influenced by both the socio-cultural and physical system of the region. Cultural change is a complex process spread over a long period of time. We would be wrong to expect the evidence of this process to manifest itself overnight. In the case of the built environment, this manifestation is slower and equally complex. As the built environment is said to be a mirror of the people’s culture, changes in the social, belief and value systems as well as changes in economy affect the change in the built environment in varying degrees. The role each force plays largely depends upon the degree of the force, the period of time and the nature of change itself.

110  Aiban S. Mawkhroh

Figure 8.1  G oogle map of the spatial setting of a typical Khasi village in the uplands.

This inquiry shall try to study the two different house forms that have experienced an evolution based on a change in a belief system that affected them. The parameters of this inquiry are based on the following: To examine and identify the various aspects of the belief, value and social systems that influence the house form. To identify the meanings attached to various architectural elements that make up the house form and its environs and its association with the ­social-culture system. To study the physical adaption of the house forms to climate and building materials. To study the forces of changes within the socio-cultural system and their adaption to a house form borrowed by them. To identify the constancy and change in the Khasi socio-cultural system as manifested physically in the house form of both the traditional and colonial houses (Figure 8.1).

Traditional Khasi houses and variants This study is based on my architectural thesis where I have tried to explore the constancies and changes in the house forms of the traditional and colonial houses of the Khasis brought about with the advent of Christianity. The Khasis are one such tribe, who are living in the Khasi Hills of the newly created state of Meghalaya. This matriarchal tribe had been living in isolation in the uplands of the Khasi Hills for a long time, thus aiding in the development of its own social, cultural, political and linguistic identity. It was upon the arrival of the British and the Christian Missionaries in the

Constancy and change  111

Figure 8.2  Khasi traditional houses.

early 19th century that led to changes in some of their social-cultural systems thus changing their built form. These are the various types of traditional houses that have been gradually transformed into a new form (Figure 8.2). In fact, there are some elements from the colonial house forms like the front porch which has been incorporated in the traditional house too. The advent of corrugated tin sheets has changed the form of the plan into a more squarish version to ease the installation of the more stiffer material than thatch.

Variants of the Khasi traditional house Figure 8.3 shows the traditional house form in its pure format. Variation I shows the slight variant of the house form with the partitioning of the kitchen from the rest of the house and the introduction of the porch which is an architectural element belonging to the colonial house. Variation II shows the new variant of the traditional house where the form of the plan has become more squarish to facilitate the installation of CGI sheets, the introduction of the porch and the partitioning of the interiors.

Spatial setting of traditional house The Khasis have always believed that their place here on earth is just ­temporary in nature and that ultimately their souls shall reside in the

112  Aiban S. Mawkhroh

Figure 8.3  Variation within the traditional house.

house of the Creator. So much so that it is reflected in the suffix that they add when addressing a dead person, for example Mr Soso Tham (bam kwai ha dwar U Blei) which literally means “having kwai (a betel nut) at the threshold of God’s house”. So for the Khasi, the ultimate goal in his life or death is to partake in chewing kwai (where having kwai here means a social dialogue) with God. Another built form that the Khasis practice is the erection or installation of kors or resting places along pathways in memory of the dead. These are U-shaped stone seating structures that echo in the spatial layout of the house which is also U-shaped where the only boundary walls are on the sides and the back while the front facing boundary is open to the village road. The house thus sits within this U-shaped boundary akin to the temporary resting places or kors. Their belief system thus influences the spatial layout of the house in space. Another aspect of Khasi culture is their attitude towards colour or ornamentation. Because of this ‘temporary’ attitude towards their life on earth, their houses are bereft of any ornamentation (unlike other tribal cultures) and for a Khasi, the only time that he “takes out colour” is when he takes part in the dances where he pays his respect to his Creator. In fact, another word he uses for “going to the dance” is sei rong which literally means “takes out the colours”.

Constancy and change  113

Shape and form According to Norberg-Schulz, “The notion of centre may be regarded as the basic element of primitive spaces and any place where a meaning becomes manifested is in fact a centre”. As has been said earlier, the Khasi sees his house as a symbol of the universe with himself, like God, at its centre and in charge of creation. Within the Khasis house too, the hearth or fireplace has been the centre of his dwelling both physically and spiritually. It symbolizes the centre of the universe with himself as a creator of the family. The hearth is also the focus of his family life, as well as the centre of his social and religious life. It is around the hearth that traditions and customs are being discussed and handed down from generation to generation. In fact, among Khasis, the hearth or rympei is also a synonym for family or iing. Khasis carry the three stones from the hearth to the new house as a symbol of continuity. Another aspect of the Khasi house is the egg shape plan where the egg has always played an important role in rituals and ceremonies (Figure 8.4). The Khasi has, in fact, gone to the detail of the shape of the egg wherein the back of the house is reminiscent of the flat portion of a peeled egg.

Spaces In the Khasi religious system, religious rituals and ceremonies are clan based, not congregation. Each clan has its own rituals and ceremonies performed within the house especially the ancestral house of that clan. Only rituals ­pertaining to the state or community like the harvest dances or rituals that involved the status and wellbeing of the market are performed outside the house. The house is thus a sacred space of the Khasis and sanctified by rituals and a separation between the sacred and the profane worlds, so the threshold of the house is regarded as important, dividing the line between inner private space and other public world. One might say that there are two thresholds in the Khasi house: one is the entrance door itself which separates the house from the outside and the other is the edge of the raised platform of the living hall which is the inhabited part of the house. Symbolically, the latter serves as the dividing line between the sacred and the profane world and the Khasi word for this threshold is shah ksew which literally means ‘barrier for the dog’. The shah ksew or threshold divides the shyngkup or utility storage area from the habited part of the house which consists of the hearth or rympei. The house of the Khasis has its meaning not only as a physical protection to its inmates against the elements of nature, but it also harbours his ­ancestors and gods and thus gives him spiritual guardian. The non-­ structural column called the rishot blei or ‘the creators column’ next to the threshold or shah ksew is the vertical connector that connects him to his ­departed ancestors.

114  Aiban S. Mawkhroh

Figure 8.4  Floor plan.

The scared and the profane The sketch (Figure 8.5) shows a graphical representation of the spaces within the variant types of the Khasi house that depicts the sacred and the profane spaces.

Response to climate Material and construction techniques The sketch shows the response of the traditional house to climate and ­materials available (Figures 8.6, 8.7 and 8.8). One must note that the Khasis

Constancy and change  115

Figure 8.5  Khasi traditional house: sacred and profane space.

Figure 8.6  Khasi traditional house: response to climate.

116  Aiban S. Mawkhroh

Figure 8.7  Materials and construction system.

Figure 8.8  Khasi traditional house – construction details.

have been aware of the seismic nature of the region and thus construct their houses on a ‘post and beam’ construction technique which is used even today as a response to earthquakes. The main roof frame rests on columns and beams while the extended roof frame at the sides rests on the thick stone walls that served to withstand the elements outside. Maybe that is the reason why our ancestors always insist that we stand underneath the beam or door frame during an earthquake since it is part of the structural system that takes care of earthquakes.

Constancy and change  117

Figure 8.9  Bungalow-type houses.

The colonial house forms are used as case studies (Figure 8.9). The house is placed within a more defined boundary wall with a well-articulated gate that leads to a verandah through a paved walkway. The main house is divided into three distinct rooms that consist of the sitting room at the centre which the Khasis called the kamra pdeng or central room and the bedrooms at the sides. The kitchen at the back is attached to the main house as a lean-to room or sometimes as a different entity with its own roof form. Except for the third variation, most of these houses have the toilets outside the main house and the wash room in the kitchen is used as a bathing space.

Variations and constant in the colonial houses An analysis of the various architectural elements among the variations of the colonial houses (Figure 8.10). These images (Figure 8.11) show the spatial setting of a typical house in Wales (during the same period) and another at Sohra. One would notice the defined boundary wall and the porch at the entrance to the house in both the houses. A defined pathway leads from the articulated gate to the verandah of the house. The threshold of the house has moved from the inside (in the traditional house) to the outside in the form of a porch and a verandah. All these elements are borrowed from the houses that the Missionaries had brought in when making their own houses.

118  Aiban S. Mawkhroh

Figure 8.10  Variations within the bungalow-type house.

Shape and form The shape and form of the colonial house is borrowed from the typical Bangla house from Sylhet in the plains because that is the region from where the Missionaries brought their builders. The rectangular plan and the square form is noticeable while the interior spaces are divided into three distinct spaces with two gathering areas namely the sitting room and the kitchen. Maybe this is necessitated by the new belief systems and the need to have a separate gathering place which is more formal and private. So the rympei or the main hearth has moved to the back of the house and the nengpei or front of the hearth has taken the formal form of the sitting room. The bedrooms have taken the space of the iing kyndong from the traditional house. The interior spaces of the colonial house consist of the entrance porch which reminds us of the shyngkup or utility area in the traditional house, the verandah and the four distinct spaces inside that functions as a sitting room, bedrooms at the sides and the kitchen at the back. The fireplace in the sitting room has become the vertical connector with its ornate mantle piece and the Christian religious icons that adorns its flue. The response to an earthquake-prone region is in the structural system of the house where the entire roof system rests on columns and beams while the thick external stone wall keeps the damp and the cold from entering the house. The only difference from the traditional house is that the external stone walls are closer to the columns.

Constancy and change  119

Figure 8.11  T  he spatial setting of a typical house in Wales (during the same period) and another at Sohra.

The aim of the study has been to examine the nature of the house forms of the Khasis as a concretization of a particular set of existential meanings defined by their physical, social and cultural system. Based on the theory of architecture as a concretization of existential space, it becomes possible to evaluate these house forms in relation to the historical situation and cultural tradition as they undergo change. Built form belongs to that non-verbal expression or communication system, where communication takes place by its association and through the use of it. Christian Norberg-Schulz (Intentions in Architecture, 1963) has determined these elements which comprise the establishment of places or centres, paths or directions and domains or areas. The elements of existential space vis-à-vis, Place, Path and Domain and their subsequent characteristic have been taken as the constant elements present in both houses with their subsequent architectural forms as changeable elements since the forms are determined by values and beliefs in their socio-cultural system.

120  Aiban S. Mawkhroh

Place See Figure 8.12. Traditional house • •

The hearth or rympei as the centre and a physical manifestation of a place characterized by its central location in the house and enclosed by the oval-shaped stone wall and finally its position at the end the axis. The elevated position of the hearth adds to the sanctified nature of the centre and its position at the end of the axis gives the hearth some privacy.

Figure 8.12  Character of place.

Constancy and change  121 Colonial house •

• • •

The centre manifested by the fireplace located at the living room which is centrally located in the spatial layout of the house. The fireplace is much bigger and formally articulated with a glazed facing tile and an ornate mantle piece. Its position is accentuated by the arrangement of the furniture, the ornate mantle piece with a picture of Christian icons, etc. The other centre is the conventional fireplace used for cooking and where the family gathers together for meals. Basically the centre of the house has been divided into two spaces: the formal sitting room and the more traditional rympei but both partitioned by walls.

Path See Figure 8.13. Traditional house •

•

The path initiates from the entrance door (the point of arrival and ­departure) and terminates at the hearth where it takes a circular movement around it. It is characterized by its passage from the lighted entrance door, through the dark entrance room and into the private, sanctified interior characterized by the raised level and the hearth. The vertical axis manifested by the oak post lies directly opposite the line of axis and at the junction of the inhabited and uninhabited portion of the house.

Colonial house (bungalow type) •

• •

The path initiates from the compound gate (the point of arrival and departure) and terminates at the kitchen (the most private space of the house) after passing through a hierarchy of semi-public and semi-­ private space, as shown above. The path is characterized by its passage through open, semi-open and closed space according to level of privacy. The living room, where the longitudinal and latitudinal axis meet, is characterized by its central position and the enclosure of the fireplace.

Domain See Figure 8.14. Traditional house •

Front yard: the loose distinction of the territorial domain of the house complex and the village road.

122  Aiban S. Mawkhroh

Figure 8.13  Character of path.

•

Shah ksew: the edge of the living hall defining the inhabited from the uninhabited domain of the entrance room which is characterized by the change in level, flooring material and light intensity.

Colonial house (bungalow type) • • •

The compound wall defines the domain of the house complex and the village road. The porch or verandah forms a transition space to the inhabited structure of the house characterized by its semi-open structure. The living room forms the semi-private domain of the bedrooms and the kitchen.

Constancy and change  123

Figure 8.14  Character of domain.

Conclusion Based on the three parameters of Place, Path and Domain, we could conclude that traditional and colonial houses have certain archetypical ­elements of constancies even in the changes of the belief and social ­systems. Thus, architecture has the capacity to symbolize this belief and value ­systems of a society.

9 Health, spirits and modern medicine in Northeast India N. William Singh

Introduction The aim of this chapter is to examine the practices on traditional healing and modern health-care system in the rural and urban areas of Mizoram and Manipur. Be it in the urban areas or rural areas of the two states, to heal and get rid of illness involves both traditional healing and modern health care. The main focus of this chapter is to detail out the factors why oral tradition is increasingly less popular than modern health practices.

Oral tradition and traditional healing To Bronisław Malinowski, Leach and Berry (1935), magic and spirit are the extension of man’s basic use of language to describe his surroundings. Magic and ritual are still believed to cure illness by many communities of Northeast India. For instance, certain mental illness in Manipuri and Mizo communities are often linked with spirits and supernatural influence. Such illness was cured with animal sacrifice by a traditional healer. R ­ ivers (2013 reprint) described that indigenous healing practices, which might seem ­irrational to the western thinking, are rational when placed in the wider context of local belief and culture. Whereas modern health practices defined illness in terms of germs, virus and bacteria, traditional healing assumes sickness with a microbiological constant. World Health Organization (WHO 2013) reported that 80 percent of the world’s population still depends on traditional medicine for primary health-care needs. Herbal remedy prepared by traditional healers includes mix of herbs and shrubs available to the habitat for curing the illness, and also involves magical spells or rituals. These practices are till today, a part of the indigenous culture of Northeast India. The region has rich oral tradition, passed on from generation after generation to conserve their environment, to conserve herbs and shrubs with healing power and rituals to the traditional healers. These communities continue to learn their knowledge to use rich bio-resources – for healing generations after generations – which are inherited solely through oral tradition.

Health, spirits and modern medicine  125 The oral tradition of Northeast India’s indigenous community reveals deep respect for nature. For instance, in Rengma Naga, Verrier Erwin (1958) mentioned that living creatures including plants understand each other. Whenever a man wanted to kill an animal or cut down a tree, the latter appealed for mercy. When I met a Manipuri elder (2015), he informed that sacred forest (Umang Lai, Manipuri terminology) in M ­ anipur forbids the community not to fell trees, lopping off branches and twigs without a ritual, avoidance of which may bring forth illness. In this space of sacred forest, which is believed to be sacred till today, one is advised not to harbour any evil thought in mind. There are many such sites in ­Manipur, where total protection is enforced and extraction of resources is forbidden, not by law or amendment, yet by belief. Likewise in Mizoram, Mizo maintain community forests, where extraction on a sustainable basis is allowed with the permission of headman (village chief) and community elders (Guha 2000). Traditional healer can be defined as someone who is recognized by the community and cures illness by using herbs, shrubs or natural substances based on experience, beliefs and wellbeing of the community. Traditional healers believe that forest and the surrounding provide all kinds of needs for the people to cure any illness. They use natural methods of treatment, in which they have trust and have learnt the values of the treatment from their previous generation. Traditional healers’ trait is not open for all. Knowledge of traditional healing is inherited either through the sibling or offspring. The advantage of traditional healing is that it can deliver far more services than the modern health-care systems. There are many villages in the indigenous communities, where modern health-care system, modern hospitals, doctors and nurses do not exist. This is a sustainable and a self-­reliant form of health care. For instance, some regions in Northeast India are inaccessible due to poor infrastructure. Till today, traditional birth attendant served during childbirth in isolated and remote areas of Mizoram and Manipur. In the interiors, families informed that they rely on traditional birth attendant as a matter of necessity due to the unavailability of modern health-care services. Majority of the traditional healers are dependent on their practice, mainly as a source of income and for their livelihood. Families also depend on them, because their services are affordable for these communities. Another factor is that a few of the traditional healers are bound to practice till today, due to scarcity of modern medicine and health care. They continue to do it also as part of social work. However, in the urban areas and accessible townships with accessible roads and transports, the relevance of traditional healing is becoming less popular as seen during the last four decades, i.e. 1980s onwards. The main factor behind such shift to modern healing practice is due to institutionalization of modern healthcare system and establishment of hospitals manned with doctors, nurses and panacea shops.

126  N. William Singh

Spirits and healing Richard M Eaton (1984) described the relevance of belief in traditional Naga cosmology. It refers to two-tier scheme of beliefs. At the upper tier, a supreme deity underpinned the universe; benevolent, vaguely understood and seldom approached because of his remoteness from the everyday concerns of Naga communities. The lower tier of ‘traditional Naga cosmology’ consists of a host of minor spirits. Unlike the supreme god, these spirits were perceived and given greater attention precisely because they underpinned the immediate reality, which the Naga experienced. These low tier spirits controlled the specific realities of everyday life such as disease, crops, rain, human fertility and death. Indigenous communities in Manipur and Mizoram have these ­t wo-tier schemes of belief, even though they have professed Christianity and ­Hinduism. The low tier spirits have not swayed after conversion. An observer can notice that every Meitei household has a space (at the corner of the house) to worship the low tier spirits, even though majority of the Meitei have professed Hinduism. Likewise, Mizo believe in spirits (Hruai). ­Varghese and Thanzawna (1997) mentioned that Mizo religiosity was centered on sickness. Both the communities heed to the low tier spirits in events of sickness, tragedy and disasters. Low tier spirit is inherited mainly through oral tradition. Traditional healers could understand these spirits and its consequences. These spirits are generally malevolent, or at least whimsical, and therefore need constant appeasement. A malevolent spirit has to be propitiated usually in the form of sacrifices of living things, to cure and avoid havoc upon individuals or the whole village. By the turn of early 20th century, there was a constant battle in everyday life between traditional belief and ritual due to the breakthroughs of ­modern science. During this period, in Mizoram and Manipur, old superstitious beliefs and traditional healing were constantly battling with the scientific thinking and rational views. Scientific views and rational views on healing and illness were disseminated to the natives mainly by colonizers, missionaries and a pocketful of educated natives.

Vaccination and missionaries Vaccination Act was introduced in colonial India during 1880. Vaccination was an outcome of medical science breakthroughs. It was introduced to the colonized Indian society to earn appraisal by denigrating traditional healing. The colonized subjects (Fanon 1965) began to understand their ‘body’ from the colonial perspective. Vaccination came along with plethora of statistics, sanitary reports, Indian village as storehouse of diseases and introduction of trained doctors to understand the colonized body. The irony was that the ailing colonized body submitted to the medical

Health, spirits and modern medicine  127 practitioner with the notion that illness would be exacerbated; the colonized subjects became dependent on the colonial masters. The colonized subjects had to trust colonial master for curing illness; the trust was strategically incorporated by the Christian missionaries and was incorporated in their project of evangelization. They had direct ­contact, knew deeper and had greater concerns for the colonized subjects. Missionaries played an immense role in that transformation. They played a key role in strengthening the official reforms on health, education, disease, s­ anitation and illness undertaken by the British officials. For instance, ­i mparting the spirit of modern education, fighting superstitions, health, ­hygiene and ­science. The point is that British officials introduced new trends to the n ­ ative, and later, the trends were dispensed by the missionaries. Modern medical practice questions the native culture, health and sanitation. Giles’s report, 1890, mentioned that it was cultural backwardness of the Assamese that had to bear the cross of susceptibility to kala-azar (yellow fever). Dr A McLean (Medical-in-charge of Guwahati), in 1853, mentioned ‘the general habits and modes of life of people’ were often the reason behind any sickness (see Kar 2003; Brimmes 2014; Lahariya 2014). When Vaccination Act was enacted in 1880, there were no dispensaries in Mizoram and Manipur. British political agents in Manipur and Mizoram opened their offices only in the towns, where there exist dispensaries and doctors.1 Later by 1920, missionaries in Manipur and Mizoram established health clinics and hospitals. Modern medicine came to nonwestern societies with economic, political and supreme epistemic motives, not just curing powers. David Arnold (1988, 1993) contends that modern medicine was a powerful ‘colonizing force’ and a vehicle for the transmission of Western ideas into India. A ­ rnold (1993) argued that vaccination demonstrated the benevolence of British rule, to prove the superiority of Western civilization. Hardiman (2008) also argued that healing the sickness of the natives through Christian missionaries, doctors and nurses was part of the modernizing process. During colonial India, the most enthusiastic advocates of vaccination were colonial administrators and Christian missionaries of the annexed provinces in southern and western India. In Northeast India, colonial masters along with missionaries introduced aesthetics related with body and life – hospitals, health care, education, evangelization – translating the Bible into native language and introduction of alphabets, not just moral well-being and civilizing the natives. 1 Every naval dispatch arrived in India was accompanied by the European doctors. Even the American Baptist Mission in Assam took precaution in selecting their residential area. They selected Sibsagar as their headquarter because it had a physician. For details, see Victor Hugo Sword, Baptist in Assam, A Century of Missionary Service, 1836–1936, p. 68.

128  N. William Singh In such scenario, oral tradition and cultural practices of the natives were often overlooked. 2 Colonial policies and reforms along with missionaries in Mizoram and Manipur made the natives put their trust in rational science and modern medicine. They successfully transformed majority of subjects not to depend on sorcerers or traditional healers. Though they failed to inform the subjects about the whole project of benefit and profit from their science, which they received for treating the subjects.

Cure and care Illness led to widespread discussion on the shift of emphasis from ‘cure to care’. Modern system of curing illness comes with packages of cure and care that are incomplete without each other. Traditional healing is without the idea of vaccination and care. Modern health practice is a chamber of cure and care simultaneously, whereas traditional health practices focuse mainly on ‘cure’, rather than care in diagnosing the illness. The idea of care comes with nursing assistance and microscopic understanding of pathogens. Such obstinate notions of cure and care have become the preferable choice on diagnosis of illness. Care expresses concern, dedication and attachment. To do something with care implies that one acts with special devotion. In ‘health care’, the term care carries a technical meaning which is trained, scientific and as a specific technique learned within the logic of scientific institutions. Arthur Kleinman (2006) counters such notion of care. He mentions that care can be practiced by any close ones of the ailing person. Care should not be located within the understandings of modern health-care settings.3 He writes: I am the caregiver for my wife, Joan, who is suffering from a severe neuro-degenerative disorder that has affected her memory and restricted her independence. I wake her up in the morning, and assist her in toileting, bathing, and dressing. Several times a week, we are assisted by a professional home health care helper who does the wash, cooks several meals and spends the day time hours with Joan. (Kleinmann, 2006:13) 2 Jean Comaroff & John Comaroff (1986) writes of missionaries as inadvertent participants of modernity. Though not directly involved with politics of colonialism, missionaries dealt with aesthetics, religion, fitness, modern medical knowledge and mundane habits of everyday life, which led to a subtle colonization of indigenous modes of perception and practice (Comaroff & Comaroff 1986: 1–2). 3 Care, writes Milton Mayeroff (1971), is experienced as both an extension of myself and as separate from me, someone to be respected in person’s own rights. In that idealistic picture, care is devotion to the other. He provides the following example: “The father who goes for the doctor in the middle of the night for his sick child does not experience this as a burden; he is simply caring for the child” (Mayeroff 1971: 9).

Health, spirits and modern medicine  129 Modern health-care practices in Manipur and Mizoram differ in every sense from the traditional healing procedures. It places care of the ailing individual (patient) at high priority as preventive measures for the population, and care can be given at the disposal of a well-trained medical staff, for instance the nurses. Many decades ago, care was given to the ailing person by the ailing person’s siblings or parents. At present, relatives and close ones of the ailing person believe that care can only be received from the trained nurses in modern hospitals. Such strategies are the outcomes of institutionalization of health and diseases. A crisscross network for curing illness had been incepted with the establishment of modern health-care practices. Such crisscross networks are dispensed through community health programs, technology, clinical expertise, pharmacist, radiologist, prevention, vaccination and routine checkups. Many illiterates and v­ illage elders in far-flung remote areas cannot even pronounce c­ orrectly these medical terminologies. The crisscross networks had already been integrated in modern clinical practice, and are already in force in Mizoram and Manipur. Modern hospitals with scientific settings have become the epitome of caregiving and curing illness. They are designed with specific architecture, sterilization facilities with a chain of generic drugs. Such hospitals in ­M izoram and Manipur have impeded the religious, ethical, aesthetic and oral knowledge of traditional healing.

Body, health and hospital Health care, vaccination, disease treatment and family planning are central concern to every individual so as to achieve self-awareness. Since 19th century, a new way of administering serialization, synthesis and diagnosis of bodies evolved (Foucault 1975: 160). Foucault argues that individuals are under constant surveillance and regulation in ways that are often subtle and thereby seemingly invisible, leading to normalization and acceptance of Universal systems, like behavior, discipline, education, health and knowledge.4 Modern knowledge on health and disease had evolved mainly through the systematical denial of oral traditions and traditional knowledge on healing. Institutionalization of modern health care also occurs, mainly due to preference of modern over traditional knowledge on health care, body and disease. Institutionalization of modern health care considers traditional knowledge on health and healing as ineffective or inaccurate. It brings forth terminologies like specialized knowledge, sanitation, hygiene and scientific 4 Body is docile; it can be subjected, used, transformed and improvised (Foucault 1975: 136). He claims, knowledge generated by science enables power to circulate to their bodies, their gestures and daily actions. Foucault (1975) argues regimes of ‘power/knowledge’ have structured ways of knowing and exercising power.

130  N. William Singh treatment procedures. Such terminologies are not reflected in oral tradition on healing at non-modern societies.5 Nineteenth-century ethos on scientific model of health, first, effected the organization of family due to medicalization of individuals. For instance, family was assigned as a linking role between good health of the individual and society. Later, the ethic of good health as a duty of the parent was transferred to institutions (hospitals and health care), medical specialist and nurses through the state health policies. The shifting notion on good health is further entrenched by doctors, nurses, medical equipment and pharmaceutical drugs recommended by the state through health and disease reforms. Medical knowledge dictates and judges the idea of health and illness, standard models of life, housing and sanitary habits. This ­knowledge comes with series of prescriptions relating to general forms of existence and behavior such as food and drink, clothing and the layout of living space. The point is, we are living under ‘the age of hospital regime’. Hospital is a space closed in on itself, a place of internment of men and diseases. ­Hospital is a specialized zone functioned through network of medical ­personnel, administrative staff for controlling the population. It is an o ­ rganized zone to make medically efficacious and therapeutic action. It functions as a ­curing machine. This zone cures diseases with care and with additional s­ cientific understanding of hygiene like laundering of bed linen. It is a zone for ­therapeutic strategy with uninterrupted presence of doctors, through observation, notation and record keeping.6 Consequently, hospital articulates medical knowledge with therapeutic efficiency for economic and medical reasons and owns the space for treatment, rather than at home.

Traditional healing in Mizoram and Manipur Villages in the interior parts of Manipur have been using traditional medicines for their primary health-care needs. When there is stomach pain, joint pain, fractured bones, indigestion, cough and cold, villagers consult their traditional healer. Villagers have more trust on the traditional healers who are affordable. In case of more severe ailments like fever, jaundice, malaria and typhoid, villagers consult another healer from a nearby village. The trust towards the traditional healer is not without evidence, as villagers would testify during my fieldwork. When bones are broken, the villagers insist on being treated by traditional healer or bone-fixer rather than go to orthopedic doctor, which is far and affordability becomes difficult. 5 Foucault (1980: 81–82) mentions the insurrection of subjugated knowledge through ‘formalization and gaze’. By subjugated knowledge, Foucault meant the native knowledge, located low beneath the required levels of cognition and scientific tendency. 6 Hospital becomes an essential element in medical technology, not simply as a place for curing, but as an instrument for a certain number of serious cases, makes curing possible (Foucault 2000: 103–104).

Health, spirits and modern medicine  131 Centipede (scientific name unknown, which can grow up to six inches) venom is frequently used as a secret weapon in Manipur as herbal remedies to treat incurable/terminal diseases – like cancer; this curing process is labeled by villagers as ‘fighting deadly disease with a deadly poison’. Scientific pharmacological research studies have confirmed that medicinal ingredient extracted from centipede is the toxic ingredient. No wonder these days centipede is widely used for the treatment of cancer. During my fieldwork in Manipur, a woman used this centipede to battle with her skin cancer. She had undergone chemotherapy at Mumbai’s Tata Memorial Hospital during 2012–2013. She narrated her story: After treatment at Mumbai, I rushed back home. Within few weeks, my head became bare, my hairs were loosing day after day. After hearing about the curative powers of centipede from elders in different villages, I decided to buy the lotion from the healer, who lives in the hills. Till day, I do not know the contents of the lotion. Moreover, the centipede is found only in the hilly parts of Manipur, I decided to try the traditional healing. Yes, it shows progress. Now I have hairs in my head again; and the lotion is affordable. (2014 Manipur) Absence of proper road connectivity and development in the rural areas of Manipur and Mizoram remained an uphill task to access modern medical facilities. Apparently, it is also the main factor why villagers rely on traditional healers. Doctors remain a rarity for the villagers as they are sighted only during medical camps that are organized once or twice a year. The nearest Primary Health Centre from an interior village is at an average distance of about 50 km. Disillusioned by disconnect to the outside world, many villagers remained untouched from the curing powers of modern medicines. During 2015, a Mizo elder in Aizwal informed me: Till 1980s, traditional mid-wife, who is a service provider during pregnancy and during child-birth, was there in every village of Mizoram. With the advent of modern health-care, traditional mid-wives are now rare in the villages of Mizoram. Villagers also informed that traditional midwife finds difficulty in dealing with complicated childbirth. Many villagers in Mizoram felt that their services are affordable. Traditional midwife provides basic help during childbirth, based primarily on experience and knowledge acquired through oral tradition. They provided care in remote and medically underserved areas. In Mizoram villages, unripe fruits of Papaya (Carica papaya) are used to diagnose dysentery and vomiting. Seeds of papaya are also chewed directly to diagnose intestinal worm. Paste of papaya leaf is also used for treatment

132  N. William Singh of ring worm. Unripe papaya fruit cooked with chicken is used for treating malaria.7

Health-care enterprise in Mizoram and Manipur The medical directorates of Manipur and Mizoram have a common objective, which is ‘government will soon explore the possibility of setting up specialized health-care facilities through public-private partnerships’. Notable objectives include: ‘government will hire established private health foundation to fill up health expert resources and government will ­encourage entourage for health treatment outside of the state due to lack of specialized health centers’. In both these states, Directorates and Governments objective excludes preservation of traditional healing. Often the questions that arose were: Who can afford to cure? Everybody can or only few can afford such specialized health-care facilities? Modern cure needs huge sums of money. Only those well-fed, well-educated, well-read, well-clothed and well-to-do can afford or access the specialized health-care facilities. What about the population living with meager income in the interiors of Manipur and Mizoram? Till 2015, there were 26 private hospitals and clinics in Manipur ­under the Manipur Nursing Home & Clinic Registration Act, 1992. These private hospitals and clinics are concentrated mostly in the Imphal Municipality Area. The manpower in these clinics and hospitals are the government-­ employed doctors, yet serving in private hospitals and clinics to earn more income, and, to cure affordable families. In Manipur, profitable health-care units like private hospitals-clinics and government-run public health facilities have become intertwined. The desire to earn extra income by consulting at private health care by the government doctors is increasing. This kind of dual practice is rampant in Manipur.8 A social activist wrote against medicinal private practices in Manipur: Proposed law to shield doctors from patients is against medical ethics and a frontal attack upon access to justice that raise what I think are issues of very deep concern for the future of healthcare and physicians in Manipur. There is a crisis in the healthcare sector in Manipur. (Dr Laifungbam Debabrata Roy 2015) 7 Leaf pulp of Aloe Vera (Aloe barbadensis Mill) is used for treatment in jaundice and other liver disorders. The folk medicinal plant used by traditional healers in Mizoram to diagnose diarrhea, dysentery cold cough and skin diseases. 8 On 2015, British Medical Journal published a study on private practices of medicine experts as an increasing concern. The study was done in response to a rising concern about dual obligations of physicians in USA, especially those engaged full time in non-profit academic institutions and profit companies. It creates diverse individual and institutional conflicts that vary in gravity and reconcilability depending on the academic and clinical roles. The study concludes that such private practices have not been fully addressed by previous guidelines.

Health, spirits and modern medicine  133 Trawling through the official website of the Manipur Health Directorate, one can observe the insufficient realities of public health-care scenario in Manipur. Till 2014, the doctor–population ratio in Manipur was 1:1,635. The dentist–population scenario in Manipur is even worse with 1:22,000 of the population in Manipur. Till 2014, there were a total number of 862 doctors and specialists in Manipur. Specialized hospitals are still rare in Mizoram. Many severe ailments have to be treated outside. There is a list of 67 super-specialty hospitality and health research institutes recognized by the medical directorate of ­M izoram. Till 2015, 26 private hospitals exist in Mizoram. One of the oldest hospitals in Mizoram – Presbyterian Hospital (earlier, Welsh Mission Hospital) – was established in 1928. It is also the largest hospital in Mizoram with 300+ beds for the patients. The state-run civil hospital in Aizawl was established in 1896. It is the oldest hospital in Mizoram and has a total of 300 beds for the patients. Unlike Manipur, the private hospitals in Mizoram are not concentrated in Aizawl. Many of the private hospitals are scattered across the district headquarters of Mizoram. Till 2013, the doctors–population ratio of ­M izoram is 1:2,902; and, nurse–population ratio is 1:1,597.

Conclusion Challenges on health and illness are massive in Manipur and Mizoram due to communication bottleneck, poor health infrastructure. There is absence of enough qualified manpower, specialized hospitals, state of the art medical equipment, regulatory policies and financial burdens. Another issue on health and illness is the lack of government policies to resurrect traditional healing practices and due recognition for the traditional healers. Since 1940, Indian Authority under the British Raj recognized traditional methods of healing. Homeopathy and Ayurvedic practice was recognized by law during 1940s. It was later updated in post-independence India during 1964, 1970 and 1982 (Sharma 2000: 1252).9 However, all traditional methods of healing are not recognized by law. For instance, tribal methods of healing through herbs, shrubs and rituals were overlooked. The point is that there are requirements of policies, institutionalization and ­recognition by the Indian authorities of traditional healing practices, practiced for generation among the tribes of Northeast India. Considering the tribal healing practices as irrational and unscientific will be a hindrance in ­recognizing traditional healing practices in Northeast India. Mainstreaming and recognizing such traditional healing practices, uses of natural herbs and shrubs, recognizing the rituals and the art of traditional healing inherited through generations needs formal recognition. Preservation of

9 Rajesh Sharma (2000): “Traditional healing in India”, The Lancet, 355(9211): 1252.

134  N. William Singh such traditional healing practices also needs consideration by the higher authorities. During 1995, Department of Medicine and Homeopathy was incepted under the Ministry of Health and Family Welfare. During March 2000, Indian government under the Bharatiya Janata Party encouraged traditional medical practices such as Ayurveda, Unani, Sidhi, Yoga, Homeopathy, Tibetan Medicine and Naturopathy. Employees of the Indian government were could avail re-imbursement of medical expenses related to these. It provided a competitive edge to the allopathic doctors, who have been reaping the benefits under the scientific regimes on normalizing health and health care. In the existing health-care practice, there are requirements to consider the affordable, to recognize and formally mainstream traditional healing. Policies for conservation of traditional healing, proper budget allocation, useful insights, provision of market spaces or locations for traditional healing shops and centres, and inception of institutions that can mainstream traditional healing are required in the ongoing health-care practices in India. A thorough modernization of infrastructure, training of drug inspectors to mainstream traditional healing and recognition of more traditional healing practices is required. Also, safety and efficacy studies of traditional healing practices, promotion of traditional healing and awareness of it is also required. The major challenge in mainstreaming traditional healing is to regulate and implement traditional healing. Considering it as non-modern, traditional, irrational, opposite to the scientific-laboratory methods of healing, will affect the mainstreaming of traditional healing. Hence, challenges mainly related to regulatory status, safety, efficacy, quality control, safety monitoring of traditional healing through Drug Regulatory Authority need to be overcome.

References Arnold, David (1988): “Smallpox and colonial medicine in nineteenth-­century ­I ndia”, in D. Arnold (Ed.) Imperial Medicine and Indigenous Societies. ­Manchester: Manchester University Press, 45–57. Arnold, David (1993): Colonizing the Body: State Medicine and Epidemic Disease in Nineteenth-Century India. Berkeley: University of California Press. Comaroff, Jean & John Comaroff (1986): “Christianity & colonialism in South Africa”, American Ethnologist, 13(1): 1–22. Eaton, Richard M (1984): “Conversion to Christianity among the Nagas, 1876– 1971”, The Indian Economic & Social History Review, 21(1): 1–44. Fanon, Frantz (1965): A Dying Colonialism. New York: Grove Press. Foucault, Michel (1975): Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. New York: Random House. Foucault, Michel (1980): “Two lectures”, in Colin Gordon (Ed.) Power / Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972–1977. Brighton: Harvester, 78–108.

Health, spirits and modern medicine  135 Foucault, Michel (2000): “Politics of health in the eighteenth century”, in Essential Works of Foucault, Volume 3. New York: The New Press, 90–105. Foucault, Michel (2003): The Birth of Clinic. London: Routledge. Guha, Ramachandra (2000): “Socio-Ecological Research in India: A Status ­Report”, in S.N. Chary & Vinod Vyasula (Eds.) Environmental Management: An Indian Perspective. New Delhi: Macmillan, 67–89. Hardiman, David (2008): Missionaries and Their Medicines. Manchester: ­Manchester University Press. Kar, Bodhisattva (2003): “The Assam fever”, Wellcome History, 23: 2–4. Kleinman, Arthur (2006): What Really Matters: Living a Moral Life amidst ­Uncertainty and Danger. London: Oxford University Press. Lahariya, C (2014): “A brief history of vaccines & vaccination in India”, The ­Indian Journal of Medical Research, 139(4): 491–511. Malinowski, Bronisław, Edmund R Leach & J Berry (1935): Coral Gardens & Their Magic. London: Allen & Unwin. Mayeroff, Milton (1971): On Caring. New York: Harper & Row. Rivers, William Halse Rivers (2013): Medicine, Magic & Religion. London: Routledge. Roy, Laifungbam Debabrata (2015): From Conflict of Interest to Conflict between Doctors and Patients. www.e-pao.net, accessed 9 November 2015. Varghese, CG & RL Thanzawna (1997): Dimensions and Perspectives-Society, Economy and Polity. New Delhi: Concept Publishing Company. World Health Organization (2013): WHO traditional medicine strategy 2014– 2023, Geneva. http://www.who.int/medicines/publications/ traditional/, accessed 15 February 2014.

10 Role of women in the making of Boro culture From knowledge production to empowerment Dharitri Narzary Introduction Any discussion on culture is incomplete without referring to women’s role in that culture. But this reference may not necessarily locate women in the central position of cultural discourse and thus makes one rethink the whole process of cultural production by a community. Until very recent times in history, cultural knowledge production by women as a subject did not figure in the scholarly writings and picked up only with the increase in people’s interest in cultural studies consequent to the emergence of it as a new academic discipline. Despite that, the inclination has been to focus more on culture and cultural differences of societies, and representation of women within that has been seen mostly as an act of feminism through different mediums of art. Before this, perhaps, there was no reference point to link women with the concept of cultural production that is socially and politically relevant. Among the indigenous societies women have been seen as keeper and sustainer of tradition but with the intervention of modernity and notions of it there is a shift in the way tradition and culture have acquired new meanings. Culture by itself is not gender biased but gendering culture has been one way of maintaining societal structures developed traditionally for negotiating relationships in private and public spheres. Social norms play an important role in establishing gendered identities around which cultural practices are articulated as representative of the community. The important question is: Who decides what can be called the ‘community culture’ and who produces these ‘cultures’? Culture is always understood in collective and therefore, individuals become insignificant in cultural context. In most patriarchal societies, including indigenous ones, the notion of culture is intrinsically connected with interpersonal relationships and power equation that transcends to the way gender behaviour is articulated. The materiality of culture is also in sociological context an extension of such relationships, as is visible in the way objects too are gendered and accordingly used. Why do men and women wear different types of clothes

Women’s role in the making of Boro culture  137 or ornaments? We talk about men and women using different objects but do not ask the important question as to why there is a difference. Using material culture to affirm patriarchal ideology is a global phenomenon and the subject (especially women) involved in the creation of culture is not recognised or even dismissed, and thus they remain in the background. To what extent the materiality of culture has changed from traditional interpretation to acquire new form and meaning in a market-oriented as well as politically restive Boro society of Assam is the subject matter of this chapter. To situate this study in a regional context, the forms of cultural production that help groups or communities to express their identity has much in common across the north east of India, which can also be linked with the way similar pattern works beyond the boundary of the region to the South East. The continuity in cultural pattern is to an extent influenced by the geographical and natural locations that inspire inhabitants in diverse ways to use and adapt, consciously and unconsciously, to their natural surroundings and landscape, giving birth to innovative ideas and creations that become marker of the community identity as a cultural being. The symbiotic relation people in the north east of India share with nature finds reflection in the way cultural creation is processed. Interestingly, one finds a gendered difference in the way people engage with their natural environment as well. Is this differential response to nature in some manner related to the way culture is visualised and produced with a gendered consciousness? Though material culture is the manifestation of varied aspects of human society, they carry complex meanings and epistemological relativism pertaining to the culture it represents. Material culture in a patriarchal system is problematised when trying to understand it from the position of the Boro society, which is fairly egalitarian by nature and accords a respectable position to women. While the ‘community culture’ is maintained and represented primarily by women as in most modern societies of Asia, especially through adorning traditional attire and engagement in customary rituals, with men having adopted western modes of dressing and presenting themselves, the dominant ideology shaping the community identity is located in the patriarchal notion of it. The use of some objects as symbolic representation not only is connected with the community identity but can also become social determinants when located in the modern political context. This continued use of traditional cultural elements in varying forms and degrees are also indicative of the desire expressed by communities to maintain historical relevance as a people and to trace cultural heritage in a changing political environment for legitimacy. The overlapping approaches to understand material culture from conceptual to utilitarian to symbolic become more dynamic when reflected from insider’s perspective as a lived experience, or of being part of that culture.

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Boro women and material culture The Boro people, a branch of the Kachari tribe, are concentrated in the western districts of Assam in the northern bank of the river Brahmaputra. This chapter is thus going to look at the Boros in the north bank of Brahmaputra, also known as Lower Assam. To reflect on the Boro society from gender perspective, women are seen as equal when it comes to the matters of family and household affairs (though it is subjective), and are not restricted from participating in larger social and cultural activities including religious rituals. Traditionally sustained by an agrarian economy, Boro society has seen women playing a crucial role in the production system and in helping sustain the economy of the family, thereby making their presence felt socially. Typically, each household took care of their immediate needs locally and this was made easy by the fact that till the time globalisation became pervasive, profiteering market economy had not reached Boro v­ illages. The ­self-­sustaining villages were and to an extent continue to be the nucleus of Boro culture embodying customary traditions and practices associated with the community identity, and women have been playing the role of ­custodian and transmitter of this tradition. However, one can also notice the blurring of this tradition in rapidly growing urban spaces propelled by the impact of globalisation. To what extent technological backwardness worked in favour of maintaining and protecting the traditional knowledge system is a different topic and something that is consciously left out in this chapter. However, it very much engages with one aspect often not discussed in understanding the role women play in cultural continuity and that is how the need to produce objects in-house for familial use inadvertently contributed to the creation of a rich body of ‘cultural’ work. These objects, when moved out of the individual houses from everydayness to have a didactic interaction in a public space, acquire new meaning and role. However, ownership right of knowledge is not subject to individual skill (Marrianne Hulsbosch et al., 2009) and it is the collective claim that gives meaning and relevance to such skills in a larger social context. Among the Boros, the process of acknowledging the valuable contributions made by women in the social and cultural sphere is ongoing. However, the history of this process of acknowledgement is very recent and very much linked with the way community understanding of the self shifted consequent to change in the larger socio-political scenario of the state. While the engagement of women in traditional cultural activities, particularly in areas of weaving and brewing, is seen more as a by-product of social and economic needs, the cultural relevance of these engagements did not find much appreciation before the Boro movement that began in the last quarter of the 20th century. There is no historiography on the weaving and brewing tradition of the Boros, and even in the context of understanding gender relation among the Boros, there is no written account to name. The available colonial

Women’s role in the making of Boro culture  139 documents mention division of labour between men and women without paying attention to the social nuances embedded in the cultural practices. Weaving has been associated with women in most societies but this act was seen just as one of the many household activities that women performed without getting due credit for producing such a piece of art and manifestation of their creative imagination that embodies community ethos. The act of weaving and brewing are two areas of Bodo culture closely associated with women. But these acts cannot be isolated as simply production of material cultural objects representative of the community culture and need to be located in the context of understanding women’s position in the society as well. While these acts provided space to women to demonstrate their social role as good wife, mother, daughter, sister and as provider, giving them a sense of empowerment and liberation at a very individual level (Evy Johanne Haland, 2004), their participation in the larger public sphere was determined by their male counterparts. Both weaving and brewing have larger social and spiritual roles to play. The social world of the Boro people is understood from the customary rituals performed by the collective that are manifestations of values, ethos, belief, distinctions, positions and so on. Performances of these rituals require practical know-how, knowledge about appropriateness and inappropriateness to initiate these performances (Crossly, 2004). While these acts of performances are knowledge-based tradition and are intangible, they cannot be dissociated from the objects used for making the rituals complete and meaningful. Often in the scene of customary rituals performed by a community, the outsider is not able to see or understand the nitty-gritty involved in the making of the ritual, including why certain material objects are so integral to some rituals and what they signify.

Weaving and tradition It is believed by the Boros and even largely accepted in Assam that one of the most popular silks, the endi silk, was first produced by the Kachari women, of which Boro tribe is the largest branch. But silkworm rearing is not limited to producing material for weaving alone and is closely connected with clothing and food habits of the community. Any discussion on cultural tradition, therefore, becomes meaningful only when we see it with a holistic approach. Rearing of endi silkworm was (still is in some places) part of Boro women’s everyday lifestyle. The endi larva (emphow, which is a g­ eneric term for all insects but when talked in the context of food tradition, it is understood as referring to this particular item) is a rich source of protein and considered a delicacy among the Boros.1 The endi silkworm rearing is an 1 Endi larvae are also consumed by other plains tribes of Assam like the Mising and Ahom, though the method of cooking or preparation differs greatly.

140  Dharitri Narzary area of knowledge transmitted only by women and so, integral to the community identity where men play very little or no role at all. Traditionally it is a very familial activity but women used this space for sharing knowledge as the practice required mobility to different places, which they did in groups, for collecting castor leaves to feed the emphow. The coarse endi silk is used for producing winter shawls for both men and women traditionally as they are sufficiently warm to keep one protected from the not so harsh lower Assam winters. The Boros have always worn unstitched clothes and it was the size, pattern and design which informed the gendered use of the cloth. This silk has never been dyed and the natural off-white colour with a golden tinge is the most popular textile till date for winter. Endi silk, widely used by the Boros, was considered poor man’s wear due to its coarseness and lacking in lustre in earlier times though this labelling is debatable. But among the Boros the endi silk has always occupied a special place, as it is also a symbol of labour of love and dedication. However, technology has allowed making finer clothes out of this silk which has led to the production of the material even for summer use. Moving away from using unstitched clothes to tailored garments produced out of this silk, which are popularly adorned now-a-days during festive seasons, special occasions and public gatherings, the Boros have come a long way. This shift reflects their rising consciousness as a distinct cultural group and ability to adapt to the modern ways of asserting politically. Endi silk is commercially produced today and has managed to acquire a good market within and outside the country generating employment opportunities for women. The other two popular silks of Assam, Muga and Pat (mulberry), were traditionally never used by the Boros. Muga was considered to be sacred silk associated with the ruling Ahom dynasty and was primarily used by the upper strata elites historically, which may be associated with the hierarchical social system the Ahoms maintained. Muga silk continues to be used as ceremonial wear in contemporary time as well in Assam. Pat or mulberry silk is the most common silk used in the state. Originally these come in white and off-white colour and were considered most suitable for religious and auspicious occasions, but are available in many dyed colours today. But for some reason the Boros did not use these two silks in the past. There could be two reasons for this: (1) the muga and silk production is very critical and requires special skill. The muga silk, as some believe, was introduced by the Ahoms to Assam when they founded their kingdom here in 13th ­century (Phukan, 2012). This assumption is contested and is problematic due to the absence of historiography on the textile tradition of Assam. The Boro women/weavers did not have the required knowledge to produce this silk. (2) The Boro women wear dokhna, an unstitched piece of cloth, with no use of pins or drawstring, and simply tuck one end of it around the chest, wrapping the remaining end around the whole body with a side fold and second tuck around the waist. This complex method of wearing style made the use of silk impractical as a slippery fabric. Moreover, unlike the

Women’s role in the making of Boro culture  141 Ahoms, Boro society is traditionally egalitarian with no social hierarchy or class stratification among them, though some believe in the existence of clan hierarchy. Therefore, identification of class differentiation based on clothing was irrelevant. However, there is a change in the attitude of the Boro society today with a rising middle class and silk being used as a social marker among the more affluent. This is more so in urban spaces and is indicative of a transforming Boro society. Weavers from other states in India are producing silk dokhna for the consumption of the affluent class and are marketed in the state of Assam. In the state of Assam, Boro women are acknowledged as natural weavers who have mastered the art of crafting their imaginations into textile designs. The textile designs in distinct colour combinations coming out of a Boro woman’s loom are instantly recognisable as belonging to the community. Looking at the way Boro women display their artistic creations by wearing them in all social and public gatherings make one wonder whether such efforts are a part of the larger social and political consciousness of the Boro women to find a space for self in collective. It also reflects the sense of competitive instinct in them to create the best and acclaim recognition. It is the dokhna worn by women that works as the marker of community identity and is used by the community to assert its status as a distinct social and ­political entity in the state of Assam. It is again not merely the use of dokhna as cultural symbol of the Boros but the entire process of producing it that signifies the role of women in the making of the Boro community culture. Dokhna is woven in bright colours of predominantly different hues of yellow, orange, red, green, purple and so on, combined with equally colourful jwmgra (chadar) of varieties of designs. This attire is distinctly identifiable from afar even in a crowd and draws attention to the richness of weaving tradition among the Boros. The Boro women have not given up wearing their traditional attire in everyday life and are equally committed to weaving these beautiful pieces amidst their daily chores. Traditionally, it was expected that every Boro girl is fluent in the knowledge of weaving as it was considered a qualification to be proud of. Families of male suitors looked for a match with such qualification among others. Though this practice is becoming more infrequent in the urban areas, in the villages women continue to engage in weaving for household needs of clothes. Many of these great women weavers in villages also take orders for weaving dokhna from those who are not able to weave by themselves and get commission in the form of money or one or two dokhna for personal use or sale. This gives them a certain sense of economic empowerment using their skill at home. Another important factor contributing to the continued engagement in weaving by women is the way the Boro handloom products have been politically used and marketed as marker and symbol of the community identity. This trend began since the 1970s when tribal political movements in Assam spearheaded by the Boro leadership demanded for political recognition in the state. It was during this time that many weaving centres across

142  Dharitri Narzary the Boro-dominated areas were founded with the initiatives of local Boro Mahila Samitis, which have now come to be known as Aijw Afat (Women’s Association). This was the period which initiated active participation of Boro women in socio-political movements. The act of weaving, therefore, is also intricately connected with the sentiment of Boro nationhood that relies heavily on upholding the community cultural elements in tangible and intangible forms. There are folk songs and narratives to substantiate the heavenly endowed quality of Boro girls as weavers, a quality considered essential for making a home and culturally rich society. The advent of globalisation has influenced the way Boro society lived their everyday life as a result of the exposure to the outside world. Their aspiration for what is called ‘a modern life’ brought about a transformation in peoples’ outlook and approach towards culture and engagement with culture. The advent of mass media and new technology particularly in the new millennia opened opportunities that women can no longer stay away from. The pervasiveness of globalisation is visible in the way women are presenting themselves culturally. Economically it has allowed them to become entrepreneurs by commercially producing dokhna and other clothing from their looms. Culturally there is a shift in the approach to sustain the tradition of weaving. The promotion of Boro culture is now dependent on symbolic use of these products in the public sphere as mass representation of community identity. The tradition of weaving is today redefined, as it is linked with the political aspirations of the community. Women’s contribution as weaver continues to be crucial in upholding Boro culture, as the producer as well as the largest consumer. The flip side though is that with the advent of advanced technology and free market economy, the act of weaving itself is no longer central to cultural representation, but the product and the use of it continue to have a didactic conversation with the community. In the post globalisation era, the traditional clothing of the  Boros is coming out of commercially driven textile looms outside Assam, from places like Varanasi, Surat and Bengal region, which are incorporating non-Boro designs in dokhna and jwmgra (chadar). Large-scale consumption of machine made mulberry silk (pat silk) dokhna and jwmgra are being made available by non-Boro weavers, setting a new trend in the way Boro women dress and present themselves. This has influenced the way Boro women and the community are being perceived by the larger Assamese society as ‘modern’.

Brewing in Boro society Brewing is a cultural act of the Boros like in other communities of the ­region. Jou is the rice brew of the Boros, which is homemade and ­traditionally produced for consumption at home. For all and any kind of social occasion such as wedding, death and birth-related rituals, festivals and ­special occasions, serving and drinking jou has been considered part

Women’s role in the making of Boro culture  143 of the customary tradition of the Boros. It is also prepared for making offerings during various religious and spiritual rituals. Jou, like weaving, has also been long associated with the community identity. But unlike weaving, the practice of brewing and drinking among the Boros always evoked the most disrespectfulness in other communities, particularly the Hindu caste society, who considered this traditional practice as primitive and belonging to the uncivilised. The tradition of drinking jou was criticised even by the educated Boro who moved towards assimilation with the larger Assamese Hindu caste society. By tradition, women engaged in brewing activity at home for domestic consumption during special occasions. Offering jou to special guests has been a common practice in Boro society, though one can see a change in this tradition. Most families, including in the villages, have moved to offering tea to visiting guests with the advent of modernity. Tea drinking was popularised during the colonial period and came to be associated with having a particular social status, as the larger Assamese society looked down upon the Boro people as primitive and backward, who liked to indulge in intoxicants like jou. Even colonial writings refer to Boros being fond of rice brew and represented the community as unproductive with a poor culture and lacking in self-preservation. Such negative representation and social discrimination by the Hindu caste society was one of the important factors that forced Boros to adopt ‘Brahma Dharma’ in the first quarter of the 20th century propagated by the founder of it, Gurudev Kalicharan Brahma. The spread of Brahma Dharma aimed to promote education and create awareness among the Boros to reform certain social practices, particularly making and drinking jou, to fight against such discrimination. Gradually the educated Boros during this period tried to distance themselves from some traditional social practices to escape discrimination and assimilate to the larger Assamese society by way of adopting their lifestyle. In fact, families producing jou, particularly for commercial purpose, were seen as unbecoming of a developing, modern Bodo society. Women’s image suffered due to commercialisation of jou, especially in urban spaces, as certain social stigma was associated with women engaged in commercial production of jou. However, the practice of brewing by Boro women continued, mostly in the villages and outskirts of the towns. One reason is to do with the commercialisation of brewing as a means of earning for the economically poor. Women among the urban poor opted for commercially producing jou at home, thus contributing to family earning. Though this has related social implications, in the process the tradition of brewing continued. A majority of the Boro population lives in villages and is still dependent on local resources. The traditional social practice of offering jou to guests therefore, is yet to be completely replaced by modern drinks like tea or coffee, though people are conscious of the changing trends. The second reason is more cultural as jou is essential for all Boro occasions considered traditional.

144  Dharitri Narzary Brewing requires expertise and knowledge of technique and sources for raw materials. Though men too know about the art of brewing, it has predominantly been women’s work, and consumed primarily by men, though there is no taboo or restriction on women consuming jou. Traditional festivals like domashi (harvest festival, Magh Bihu in Assamese) and bwisagu (New Year, Rongali Bihu in Assamese) are the times when Boro people like to drink this beverage and there are folk songs, lores and stories around jou and drinking of it. The traditional drink jou is, however, facing competition from foreign liquor made available in the state due to liberalisation of economy. Licensed wine shops are now seen dotting the streets of small and big towns alike whereas producing jou by individuals or families is yet to be recognised or legalised as an industry capable of contributing to the larger local economy. Apprehension around retailing jou as a regular commodity in the shops or markets resulted in the customers visiting producers directly at home to not only buy but to drink. Such method of direct selling is socially not approved of and thus women in such situations have been stigmatised. Though there is a change in the attitude in present times, particularly with the way jou drinking is now being linked to the Bodo cultural identity, this remains a debated topic. Nevertheless, it is the womenfolk who have preserved this tradition of making and drinking jou among the Boros.

Rituals and customs The Boros have many spiritual and customary rituals spread over the year. The traditional rituals of the Boros are seasonal but over the years some of them have transcended to activities more political in nature, thus overlapping in meanings and significance. This may be particularly so in the case of the Boro religion Bathou worship which has been re-invented to ­represent a pan-Boro identity. Bathou is a folk religion and the ritual of performing Kherai Puja is a spiritual act of sacrificial ritual, which is incomplete without the participation of women. The presence of women traditionally was a prerequisite, in full traditional attire complete with swords and shields doing the Kherai dance to please the spirit of Bathou Bwrai (also called Obonglaori), the guardian of universe representing five elements of nature: air, water, sky, fire and earth. ‘Ba’ meaning five and ‘thou’ meaning deep or depth is philosophically connected with the knowledge of the universe. The deity is represented by the Sijou plant – euphorbia splendens, a cactus. The practice and institutionalisation of Bathou worship is a common link between different branches of the Kachari tribe, including the Kokborok of Tripura. In a typical Boro household it is the women of the house who generally perform the daily ritual of lighting the oil lamp in thanshali or Bathou altar located at the central courtyard every evening. Apart from individual worship at home, communal Bathou worship is organised annually in

Women’s role in the making of Boro culture  145 the villages, where followers from neighbouring villages participate. These communion Bathou worships are important for keeping the larger village communities bonded. A woman who is believed to have certain divine attributes is chosen collectively by the villagers for all such communal Bathou worship, and as the chosen one, she performs the main Kherai dance in a possessed state. The tune and beats of Kham (drums) and sifung (flute) set the momentum for the sacrifice of fowls during Kherai. As the fever of dance around the community Bathou altar reaches its peak together with the progression of ritual verses uttered by the priest, who is generally a man, some women devotees are possessed too by the spirit which is known as Doudini gakhwnai and in their unconscious state of mind begin dancing the spirit dance around the Bathou altar. In such religious rituals, it is a norm to wear the dokhna, especially in yellow and often using red jwmgra while performing the Kherai dance. In modern times, this dance has moved from the community space of spiritual domain to the larger public space to lend credence to the political demands pressing for recognition of the community as a distinct cultural group. Today Kherai dance has become a popular dance form of the Boros and is representative of Boro cultural identity. In most public gatherings of the Boros, the traditional dance forms generally performed by women to inaugurate functions can be understood as the community understanding of modernity, reflecting continuity in a transformative social milieu. Apart from the Bathou and Kherai rituals where women’s role is of ­ edding ­utmost importance, women have a central role to play during the w ceremony. No wedding ritual is complete without the Bwirathi, who perform various duties from beginning to the end. Bwirathi is the term for two selected women from the village who have learned the customary rituals and play one of the most important roles in the solemnisation of a wedding. In earlier times it was also the responsibility of the bwirathi to carry betel nut bundle and offer it to the guests, generally the entire ­village folks. Being a bwirathi is considered a big responsibility and can be given only to those who have acquired certain respect in the village society. Both the families of bride and groom have their own sets of bwirathi who accompany the parties to the respective houses: Groom’s bwirathi accompanies the party to the bride’s house for the main ceremony where they are welcomed by the bride’s side of the bwirathi. There are exchanges of paraphernalia between both sides of the bwirathis. Throughout the ceremonial rituals the presence and involvement of all four bwirathis is ­necessary. In earlier times the bwirathis were honoured for their involvement by token gifts in kind but in present time the role of bwirathi is gradually becoming a seasonal profession with a fixed amount of money for the work. But the fact that the role of bwirathi cannot be played by a man places the women in an important socio-cultural position. There are ­numerous folk songs on bwirathi that are popularly sung during ­marriages and Bwisagu festivals.

146  Dharitri Narzary

Conclusion There is little doubt that women in Boro society have sustained the cultural traditions of the community. They have managed to create a meaningful space for themselves over time in a changing socio-cultural milieu despite the fact that patriarchy is the dominant form of social system. Women’s presence is visible in all spectrum of community life, in fact more so in public spaces today. The strong network women have built through local associations like the Aijw Afat since 1980s contributed to empowering women in terms of general awareness about their social and political rights. Economically women have become more self-sufficient due to the exposure coming from their participation in various socio-political activities. Many have become well known small entrepreneurs of weaving products and some are successfully running traditional food joints. A large number of women have acquired higher education since the last two decades and are engaged in the re-articulation of the community identity. There are many women scholars who have written in Boro language to highlight the important role women have played in the overall development of the Boro society. These women represent the intersection of tradition with the modern in the constantly evolving Boro society. However, in a politico-cultural context, though women are the actual owners of the knowledge for producing the cultural objects identified with the community, men largely continue to decide the use of these objects. For example, the cultural dynamism of weaving is most visible in modern times as it is used to make a political statement. While men have adopted western attire in order to stay abreast with time in a ‘modern world’, the handloom item like the Aronai, used by both men and women, has taught them about the symbolic use of it in a space where identity politics predominates transcending gender. Likewise, contestation over the origin of endi silk between different cultural groups has generated renewed interest in the silk. The efforts made to appropriate the ownership over the silk has spurred political assertion in the state’s identity-linked political debates. The very process of producing this silk drew unwanted attention to the community culture as being primitive and un-evolved in the past. The impact of globalisation on the Boro culture and cultural representation is visible in the way Bodo culture is being promoted, and inadvertently led to the realisation that without the participation of women such efforts remain incomplete. Traditional attire is today redesigned by Boro youth who are well versed with the fashion world. Women are willing to experiment with their dokhna and do not shy away from wearing readymade dokhna as a more convenient dress over an unstitched one. Majority of the urban-bred, educated Boro women continue to use the dokhna in everyday life even as many do not have the weaving skill. As a result machine made dokhna is slowly gaining popularity. The cross-cultural borrowing is most visible in weaving as Manipuri chadars and designs are incorporated in Boro weaving.

Women’s role in the making of Boro culture  147 The tradition of brewing gained a new momentum with the founding of the Bodo Territorial Council (BTC) after more than a decade of agitation that turned the page in Boro history. During and after the Boro movement many of the Boro traditions have been re-invented and marketed to establish the community identity as the basis of strong cultural foundation. The once tabooed practices like brewing and food habits have become tools to assert cultural identity for political negotiation. It is interesting to see how once shunned food items like pork and jou are promoted as Boro cuisine during festivals and important public occasions across the state. Rituals are getting institutionalised as Bathou worship is promoted as the religion of the Boros. This of course is problematised when one considers the history of conversion. But the method of bringing out elements of Bathou like Kherai dance as performing art form needs to be understood in a political context and how women have fared in the whole process of cultural representation.

References Crossly, Nick, 2004. Ritual, body technique, and (inter) subjectivity, in Schilbrack, Kevin, ed., Thinking through Rituals: Philosophical Perspectives. New York & London: Routledge. Hulsbosch, Marrianne, Bedforth, Elizabeth and Chaklin, Martha, 2009. Asian Material Culture. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Phukan, Raju, 2012. Muga silk industry of Assam in historical perspective, Global Journal of Human Social Science, History & Anthropology, Vol. 12, Issue 9, pp. 5–8.

11 Elwin as the presenter of the Tales of the Tribes films Tara Douglas

In 1960 Elwin (Seminar #500 p. 259) wrote that: “I am not one of those who would keep tribal art ‘as it is’ and would discourage change and development. Our approach to everything in life must be creative and dynamic”. Hence the popular medium of animation has been used in the Tales of the Tribes project, both as a way to reconnect young tribal people with their existing cultural practices and also to communicate tribal cultures to wider audiences. The Tales of the Tribes is a collection of animated films that has been developed from oral narratives from Northeast and Central India during a series of workshops organized in regional locations (Nagaland in 2009, Sikkim in 2010, in Manipur and in Central India in 2012 and in Arunachal Pradesh in 2013), with the objective of engaging indigenous participants in the adaptation process. As the coordinator of this project – and based on my combined understanding of India’s tribal cultures, ­anthropological and ethnographic writings and from my background as an animation ­artist collaboratively working with Indian tribal artists and ­storytellers – I have decided to introduce these five films by creating an ­animated ­“Master-of-Ceremonies” character inspired by a prominent historical figure associated with India’s tribal cultures. Verrier Elwin’s character, activities, writings and opinions made him into a leading local, national and international celebrity and a highly controversial one. In this chapter I present my perspective on Elwin, and explain why I’ve chosen to create a representation of him as an ideal host for these films. The chapter c­ oncludes with an outline of how the linking sequences depicting Elwin as the presenter will be created. As an artist deeply inspired by tribal art and storytelling, I am first and foremost interested in collaborating as respectfully, honestly and sensitively as possible with tribal artists and storytellers and to help them re-­present their rich traditions in a new medium that reaches broader audiences. ­Following on from my role as an animator and the assistant producer for a previous series of animated tribal folktales from Central India entitled The Tallest Story Competition (2006) that was produced in Scotland, I took a decision to work in India and to develop the new collection of short films, this time to be produced entirely in India.

Elwin as the presenter  149 Beginning with an Angami folktale from Nagaland of three brothers that was adapted to become the short film Man Tiger Spirit (2011), the Tales of the Tribes collection now also includes Nye Mayel Kyong from ­Sikkim, Abotani from the Tani tribes of Arunachal Pradesh and Tapta from ­Manipur, in addition to a story from the Pardhan Gonds of Central India: Manjoor Jhali (the Creation of the Peacock). The films that comprised the earlier Tallest Story Competition series had been introduced by a cartoon presenter called Norman, who was a popular Scottish children’s comedian: this created a cross-cultural link for international audiences to satisfy the Scottish backers of the programme. Not only did Norman introduce each film, he also invited young audiences to choose their favourite story out of the collection of five; this was a practical way to record the numbers of viewers and their responses to the films. A decision was made to follow a similar format for the new Tales of the Tribes collection, with an animated character to introduce the five stories and to invite young audiences to choose their favourite. This time however, the character should be more appropriate to the context of the Indian tribal stories, as well as aiming to bridge the cultural divide and make the stories more accessible to wider audiences. Elwin’s British background, his lifelong professional dedication to research and his charming, eccentric personality that is communicated in numerous poignant observations and amusing anecdotes make him an attractive character for this role and so I decided to develop an animated representation of Dr Verrier Elwin to introduce the films. During his lifetime, Elwin documented a vast number of folktales from across Central and Northeast India, and his published collections include Myths of Middle India (1949), Tribal Myths of Orissa (1954), A New Book of Tribal Fiction (1970) and Folk-tales of Mahakoshal (1980). The Myths of the North-east Frontier of India, Volume 1 (1958) had a short version of the story of Abotani that was chosen for the animated film from Arunachal Pradesh. Elwin (1998) explained that his method of translation was simple and that above all, he avoided either adding any new images or suppressing those of the original, and in this way he was committed to maintaining the authentic meanings of the stories as far as possible. This aim was transferred to the production of the animated series, with considerable attention directed towards deconstructing the oral narratives with elder members of the specific communities during the initial phase of pre-production. This process was enjoyable for the local participants who were able to contribute as they began to visualize their story as a film for the first time. All folk stories are adaptations by their tellers, and the narrative ­language of film theory is used to translate a story from the oral to the audio-visual medium. Animation students and recent graduates had a key role in this next process, and by combining computer-based graphic techniques with traditional artistic practices the diverse group began to explore a new form of multimedia representation of indigenous culture. The multimedia

150  Tara Douglas ­ pproach that defines all the films in the collection draws first from the a richness and depth of traditional culture and then uses a modern medium to translate it into a contemporary form – animated film. In this case, the authenticity of the adaptation is defined by the participatory method of their creation and in their capacity to represent the context of the story in terms of location, cultural details and message. A glimpse at Elwin’s life story reveals immense variety, showing how he was able to reinvent his career and that his capacity for self-reflection led him to reassess and revise his views. He was born in 1902. His father, an Anglican bishop, died early on in his childhood but his mother’s Christian faith was a strong influence on young Verrier. He excelled in English Literature at Oxford University and he then went on to read Theology; Oxford University also gave him the introduction to his interest in mysticism. A religious calling first brought Elwin to India, to work for the Christa Seva Sangh and make personal reparation for colonial history which he felt was unjust. He recollected that the simple lifestyle at the Christian ­settlement-ashram in Pune was similar to that of many Hindu homes in western India at the time, and it was here that he met his lifelong friend Shamrao Hivale who introduced him to Indian ways. Elwin first met Mahatma Gandhi on a visit to the Sabarmati ashram near Ahmedabad in 1928 and this had a profound lasting impact on his outlook on life. Elwin continued to visit the ashram and he became committed to supporting Indian Independence from British colonial rule. The time spent at Gandhi’s ashram also influenced his decision to resign from the church and to work independently with Hivale for the social welfare of the Gonds. Elwin’s active support for Indian Independence had come to official ­notice, and on a visit to England, he learnt that his passport would not be validated for travel back to India unless he promised to have no further political involvement. This critical turning point spurred him on to spend the next 27 years living amongst the poorest, i.e. the tribal people that he became devoted to, consistently working for their benefit, and at the same time becoming the most prolific author of ethnographic publications on the Indian tribes. Elwin remains a figure that attracts contrasting reactions of approval and criticism. His work spans both the fictional and the ethnographic genres: poetry and novels on the one hand, and non-fiction publications on the other. From the start Elwin acknowledged his lack of formal training as an anthropologist, outlining that “The science of God led me to the science of human beings” (cited by Elwin and Rustomji 1989, p. 19) and “I am not ­ uman an anthropologist at all, but a man of letters who is interested in h ­beings” (cited by Hivale 1946). The dearth of anthropological training ­resurfaces in the criticism of his ethnographic work, where it has been accused of insubstantial theory and lacking methodical clarity. The method of participant observation for collecting data used by Malinowski gave Elwin’s research scientific sanction, yet the tension that existed between Elwin

Elwin as the presenter  151 and the academic establishment is reflected in Elwin’s comment (1998, p. 141) that “it is unfortunate that nowadays what I may call the technical anthropologists look down on the humanist anthropologists, though I must admit that the latter fully return the compliment”. The objective, short-term outsider vantage point has produced research that Aboriginal peoples have rejected as distortions of their reality (Castellano 2004). However, participatory research receives a positive reception from Aboriginal communities. For Elwin (1998, p. 142) “anthropology did not mean ‘field work’; it meant my whole life. My method was to settle down among the people, live with them, share their life as far as an outsider could, and generally do several books together”, and as Munshi (2005) has pointed out, this delivered intensity compared to the work of other anthropologists. Elwin’s emersion in Gond village life was an unconventional approach for an Oxford educated scholar during that period. His early claim of collaboration with the community is encouraged by the participatory film-making practice for the production of the Tales of the Tribes films that invites the voices of the participants and storytellers; however, time constraints and other logistics have limited Elwin’s longterm commitment. Elwin’s principal critic was G.S. Ghurye (1893–1983), and credited as the founding father of sociology in India, Ghurye was an imposing antagonist. However, in contrast to Elwin, Ghurye had only three days of field research experience. How would a person who had never had contact with an aboriginal recognize anything positive in such a person? Even the particular dietary habits of tribal people may have repelled the ordinary Hindu of the time. Singha’s account titled Colonial Anthropology vs Indological Sociology (2005) further described Ghurye’s attitude as formal, puritanical and conventional, and his strong opposition to the consumption of alcohol and to premarital sex was clearly inconsistent with tribal life. What stands out is Elwin’s overarching love and respect for the tribal people, epitomized by his choice to live with them and to share their lot. The appreciation was evidently mutual, as the observations recorded by people that knew Elwin well convey a picture of the esteem and love that he inspired: he was widely and affectionately known to the village people as ‘Bara Bhai’ (elder brother), and Edwin Smith (cited by Hivale 1946, p. 201) observed that there was “no standoffish, but an atmosphere of perfect trust and friendliness between them”. A similar approach of equality would also promote cooperation in the diverse groups of participants exploring the film-making process. Elwin and Ghurye continue to be associated with contrasting attitudes to approaching the tribal populations of India: isolationism and assimilation respectively. Isolation for tribal groups as protection against exploitation by the dominant population was favoured by some British anthropologists, including Hutton (1931). The policy of isolation was also criticized as antinationalist by a particular group of Indian anthropologists. Elwin defended

152  Tara Douglas his decision for recommending temporary isolation so that the tribes could follow their own customs, and he communicated the depth of his concern towards the destruction of the special qualities of these peoples that would be inevitable if assimilation were to take place too rapidly. Säid (1978) has shown that Western identity was established and ­reaffirmed by direct contrast to descriptions of the Oriental as mysterious and backward, that such representations justified invasion, exploitation and reform by Europe and further validated the Christian missionary impulse to convert and save the primitive tribes. He also suggests that texts are enmeshed in circumstance, time, place and society, and perceptions that Elwin’s tribal representations delivered the colonial stereotype of the noble savage were construed from the romanticized descriptions by him. However, Elwin also described crime, dirt and poverty, and therefore the picture that he produced was not exclusively idealized but was informed by firsthand practical experience. Descriptions of primitive backwardness had become embedded as the true picture. Bose (1941) shows how the colonial attitudes of Orientalism that identified Indian civilization with Hinduism and Sanskrit, and the subsequent description of tribal cultures as primitive were upheld by the Hindu nationalists who succeeded the British colonials. This captures ­Ghurye’s support for the assimilation of the tribes within the Hindu fold in the ­interest of cultural unity and nation building, but such ideas on national integration were unacceptable to the tribes. The debate on the two contrasting ideological positions – that of i­solation and assimilation – is still reflected in the restrictions imposed on visitors to the tribal inhabited areas in Northeast India (Northeast Today 2015) and in Hindu nationalist claims that religious differences have contributed to the sense of alienation in the Northeast (Shourie 1994; Bauman 2013; ­Sahoo 2013). Both Elwin and Ghurye recognized that the major problems of the ­tribals were no different from those of poor rural people in general, and Elwin’s (1960) recommendation for large investments on roads shows his ­support for the integration of these communities with the rest of India. His a­ pproach of social activism suffuses the Panch Shila policy for tribal ­development outlined by the first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, that affirmed ­development for indigenous people ‘according to their own ­genius’; in this respect Elwin’s concept of the “tribal bias” was essentially a commitment to recognizing and respecting their customs: “…we must talk their language, and not only the language that is expressed in words but the deeper language of the heart” (Elwin 1998, p. 245). Elwin’s active approach towards knowledge creation for social benefit in the interests of the group captures the sense of responsibility that is the foundation of indigenous research methodologies (Smith 1999). Hart’s (2010) discussion on the relational worldview further illuminates how the indigenous outlook is directed towards spirituality and the sense of

Elwin as the presenter  153 community (Weaver 1997, 2001), and on this note, I propose that Elwin’s religious background, his love of poetry and literature and his exposure to Hindu philosophy promoted sensitivity towards indigenous paradigms where spiritual beliefs and storytelling traditions are deeply significant. There are more credentials to support Elwin as the candidate to ­present the Tales of the Tribes series of short films. Notwithstanding the controversies that have been briefly outlined, Elwin recognized the power of ­development and change over a policy of mere preservation, for as he has said (Elwin 1960, p. 259): “I am not one of those who would keep tribal art ‘as it is…. Our approach to everything in life must be creative and dynamic”. Therefore, on relating back to the current project, I propose that ethical research on adapting traditional stories for new media in partnership with young people from the indigenous groups would have met with his approval. Discussions recorded with groups of animation workshop participants in Northeast India have presented two significant reasons to adapt indigenous storytelling for the medium of animation. Oral traditions are immanently threatened by the advancing popularity of mass media entertainment that now reaches the more isolated areas, and the first reason that emerged was to sustain the stories for the young generation. Elwin boldly advised that the non-tribes needed education as much as the tribals themselves and that “The primitive has a real message for our sophisticated modern world which is once again threatened with disintegration as a result of its passion for possessions and its lack of love” (Hivale 1946, p. 205). He also wanted to make the tribal people known as he believed that this would increase affection and respect from the rest of the country, and this matches the second reason that our workshop participants presented for adapting their traditional stories for animated films – to raise awareness of the value of indigenous cultures in wider society, and to contribute to reducing the discrimination reported by young indigenous people in India. One of my concluding reasons for choosing Elwin (over any other, ­native-born Indian “hero”), is that I find his sincerity personally very appealing and I appreciate how he also came from England and developed a passionate admiration for India’s great tribal cultures. Recollections recorded about Elwin’s personality present him as a compelling character for depiction in a medium that supports the originality of strong and interesting characters (Burgerman 2015). His autobiography, The Tribal World of Verrier Elwin, also communicates his acute perception and sense of humour. His commentaries further reveal reflection and wisdom: for example, the hospitality of the villagers in NEFA meant that he sometimes had to take lunch in half a dozen houses (1998, p. 125) – qualified by him that on reaching the point where people want to reciprocate, signified a big step forward. Recognizing his own reputation for eccentricity, Elwin explained that his odd habits were practical: walking barefoot saved him money and simplicity of dress was more suited to the conditions and climate in which he

154  Tara Douglas lived, while his long-term residencies of mud and thatch had a practical advantage in that the dwelling could be easily modified, or even relocated. D F Karaka, (cited by Hivale 1946, p. 206) wrote that “He is in many ways more Indian than many Indians. He is more than just an orientalized western gentleman. Elwin has got India under his skin and in his blood”, yet his British origins provide a cross-cultural link that resonates with the contemporary globalized experience. The expanse of research on the cultures, art and storytelling of Central India, and specifically amongst the Gonds, followed by his relocation to the Northeast in later life, also establishes another significant link between indigenous populations in these two separate regions of the subcontinent. Elwin was at ease in the company of children and the hope is that his new role as the presenter of the Tales of the Tribes will make his research and philosophy more accessible to younger audiences. In the Tales of the Tribes series, the reanimated Elwin character begins his storytelling journey in a forest setting illustrated by Pardhan Gond artists from the same region where he lived for so long. This pilot series of films can only provide a brief introduction to him and the short animation script for his role as the presenter reveals his familiarity with the subject – that of indigenous mythologies – that enables him to divulge snippets of subtext to the short films to contextualize the stories in his role as the programme presenter. The visual design of Elwin as presenter of the Tales of the Tribes by a young Garo artist, Arak Sangma (a great nephew of Dr Elwin), depicts him barefoot and dressed in local attire. The design of the Elwin character may yet be further refined in response to suggestions that he should be depicted as an older man, thus underlining the wisdom that can arise from maturity while also valorizing the traditional role of elders as story-tellers. The animated sequences created through a combination of handmade artwork and computer technology are expected to be completed with local support in Shillong, thus reflecting the historical role of the state as the administrative centre of the region, by bringing the five separate short films into the wider narrative of a storytelling competition that references the format of the earlier series, down to the Trophy that is offered for the story that gains the most votes from audiences. To enable the distribution of the series to local audiences, the films must be dubbed into several local languages (those of the communities that are represented), in addition to Hindi and English, so that they can be screened and discussed by young people as a starting point for introducing new tools for indigenous self-representation and to sustain the oral narratives.

References Bauman, C.M., 2013. Hindu-Christian Conflict in India: Globalization, Conversion, and the Coterminal Castes and Tribes. The Journal of Asian Studies, 72(3),

Elwin as the presenter  155 633–653. Retrieved from http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/cgi/viewcontent. cgi?article=1271&context=facsch_papers (accessed 19 January 2016). Bose, N.K., 1941. The Hindu Method of Tribal Absorption. Science and Culture, 8, 188–198. Burgerman, J., 2015. 20 Top Character Design Tips. Retrieved from http://www. creativebloq.com/character-design/tips-5132643 (accessed 18 January 2016). Castellano, M.B., 2004. Ethnics of Aboriginal Research. Journal for Aboriginal Health. Retrieved from http://www.nvit.ca/docs/ethics%20of%20aboriginal% 20research.pdf (accessed 19 January 2016). Elwin, V., 1960. Beating a Dead Horse. Tribal India, Seminar #500, April 2001. Retrieved from http://www.india-seminar.com/2001/500/500%20verrier%20 elwin.htm (accessed 1 August 2015). Elwin, V., 1998. The Tribal World of Verrier Elwin. India: Oxford University Press. Elwin, V., and Rustomji, N., 1989. Verrier Elwin, Philanthropologist: Selected Writings. Shillong: North-Eastern Hill University. Hivale, S., 1946. Scholar Gypsy. India: Tripathy. Hart, M.A., 2010. Indigenous Worldviews, Knowledge, and Research: The Development of an Indigenous Research Paradigm. Journal of Indigenous Voices in Social Work, [online] 1(1), 1–16. Retrieved from http://www.hawaii.edu/sswork/ jivsw (accessed 1 August 2015). Hutton, J.H., 1931. Census of India. Part 1. India: Census Commissioner. Munshi, I., 2005. Verrier Elwin and Tribal Development. In: Between Ethnography and Fiction, T.B. Subba and S. Som (eds.) India: Orient Longman. Northeast Today, 2015. ILP Protest: Patient Dies inside Car. Retrieved from http:// www.northeasttoday.in/manipur-ilp-protest-patient-dies-inside-car (accessed 18 August 2015). Sahoo, S., 2013. Tribal Identity, Religious Conversion, and Violence in India, a Preliminary Note. Indian Institute of Technology. Retrieved from https://www. academia.edu/7880497/Tribal_Identity_Religious_Conversion_and_Violence_ in_India_A_Preliminary_Note (accessed 19 January 2015). Säid, E., 1978. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon Books. Singha, A.C., 2005. Colonial Anthropology vs Indological Sociology: Elwin and Ghurye on Tribal Policy in India. In: Between Ethnography and Fiction, T.B. Subba and S. Som (eds.) India: Orient Longman. Smith, L.T., 1999. Decolonizing Methodologies, Research and Indigenous Peoples. London: Zed Books. Shourie, A., 1994. Missionaries in India, Continuities, Changes, Dilemmas. New Delhi: ASA Publications. Weaver, H.N., (2001). Indigenous Identity: What Is It, and Who Really Has It? American Indian Quarterly, 25(2), 240–255. Weaver, J., (1997). Native American Studies, Native American Literature, and Communitism. Ayaangwaamizin, 1(2), 23–33.

12 Old links New content: reconnecting Northeast India and Southeast Asia Falguni Rajkumar Introduction Being part of a milling crowd of excited tourists at the 9th-century Shivaistic Hindu Temple of Prambanam in the city of Yogyakarta in ­C entral Java in Indonesia invokes a feeling of pride and déjà vu. The same feelings come at Borobudur Buddhist temple close by, or farther east, at the Pura Besakih Mother Temple at the foothills of Mount Agung in Bali. The sights could have been anywhere in one of the temple-towns of South India or Eastern India. For an Indian, especially one espoused to take pride in the country’s history, the sights are indeed heartwarming – exhilarating and rewarding. The term, ‘Greater India’ aptly describes the extent of the reach and i­ nfluence of Indian civilization in architecture, arts and crafts and Hindu religious teachings across Southeast Asia (SEA). The Gupta Dynasty ­between the 2nd and 5th century and the Pallava Dynasty from South India from the 6th to 9th century left their mark across the Region. They introduced the Siddham and the Pallava scripts respectively. Driving from Imphal to Mandalay in Myanmar via Moreh town by road and beyond to Thailand, crisscrossing the interior areas and from there to Malaysia, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam, the feeling is one of disbelief. The landscapes, faces, dresses, market places, the local vegetables on display, fruits and assortments of goodies, the artefacts, and the graceful ladies in their sarongs carrying their little head-loads to and fro, all look so uncannily familiar, like those back home in Imphal. Even the modulations and intonations of the spoken words, the accent and casually heard verbal exchanges sound like those in Northeast India (NEI). For Northeast ­I ndians like me, there is an inexplicable sense of familiarity, invoking a feeling of affinity nudging towards nostalgia. NEI and SEA are socio-­ anthropologically linked since the Neolithic period. The region’s migration history, languages, dialects, archaeology, socio-cultural traits, traditions all point to this irrefutable link.

Northeast India and Southeast Asia link  157

Northeast India and Southeast Asia; geography and other determinants What makes the Northeast Region of India (NERI) and the Southeast Asian Region (SEAR) links unique and special? Tectonically, the Eurasian Plate meets the Indian Plate in NERI. Geo-physically it is part of SEA, but geo-politically part of South Asia. The Brahmaputra and its tributaries are part of the great south-flowing river systems of East Asia comprising of the Irrawaddy, the Mekong, Salween, et cetera. In a geomorphological compromise of sorts, the Bay of Bengal makes its northern-most thrust to meet the great Himalayas’ coming down southward at NEI. Squeezed in between, the NERI forms a narrow stretch of ­habitable land through which people from East Asia travelled to the Great Indo-­ Gangetic Plains of Central India for centuries. The Tibeto-Burman, Tai and ­Austro-Asiatic races came and settled in the region with their distinct and unique cultures. Several artefacts in lithic, pottery, celts and other items pertaining to the Neolithic culture and age found in the NEI, tell the story of these migrations. The Tibeto-Burman linguistic group, the largest among them, came from Southern China. The sub-Chin groups like the Meiteis, Mizos, Kukis and others form one distinct group. The Khasis belong to the Mon-Khmer sub-group of the Austro-Asiatic race along with the Khmer and Vietnamese. Rice cultivation in NERI came from SEA region. Two civilizational streams – the South East Asian and the Indo-Aryan civilizational stream – meet in NEI. The cross-current of distinct races, ethnicities, ­civilizational influences, religious beliefs and practices give the region a unique socio-cultural ethos and sensibility not found anywhere. These factors should have made the NEI and SEAR relationships the most natural and obvious. But this did not happen. Several exogenous ­factors and influences changed the narrative.

Disruptive narrative Role of universal religions Three powerful influences – universal religions, the European Powers and the new governments in post-colonial Asia – changed the geo-political history and the socio-cultural links and connections in SEAR. Under the tutelage of winning souls, the four universal religions – ­Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity and Islam – fanned out across Asia. Taking advantages of the simplicity and naivety of the people, these ­religions weaned away most of the population, replacing the various primordial ­indigenous religions and faiths. Asian societies and communities,

158  Falguni Rajkumar which grew based on the principles of these indigenous religions, lost their primary anchorage. This had a major impact across Asia, including NEI. Buddhism, the oldest among them, from India spread to Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Thailand and Cambodia. Hinduism reached SEA around 200 B.C.E. and exerted its influence until around the 15th century. Islam spread to Indonesia and Brunei in the 12th century. Christianity came to Asia along with the European powers. The Philippines is a classic example of how extensively Christianity established itself in Asia. Starting in C.E. 1521 when it became a colony of Spain, it now has 90 per cent Christians (80 per cent Catholics, rest Protestants). Christianity spread to Vietnam, Myanmar and Cambodia in the 16th century. After the Christian missionaries from Portugal, Holland, the French missionaries spread Christianity in Vietnam from 1883 to 1954. Stories of forceful conversions in SEA are not uncommon. In NEI, Hinduism came to Assam and Manipur in the 14th and mid-18th century, respectively. But uncharacteristically, could not spread uniformly across the whole of NERI. Its influence was confined to the lowlands, leaving the uplands untouched. There are two reasons for this. First, unlike Christianity, which spread as an organized religious movement, Hinduism came to the region due to individual and personal efforts of its early exponents. Second, the extreme physical and climatic conditions prevented the early Hindu exponents from venturing into the remote upland areas. Unfortunately, the upland communities viewed this exclusion as a deliberate act of inadvertence and social discrimination. Rejected, they converted either to Christianity, or did the next best thing, i.e. continued as adherents of their native indigenous pagan religions. Hinduism was the loser. Between Hinduism and Christianity, the NERI got divided into two ­separate distinct halves: the upland areas dominated by Christianity, and the lowlands or Plain areas by Hinduism. In the consequential ‘turf war’ that followed, bigotry got the better of the people. All other issues and problems, including socio-cultural and historical links between the tribal and non-tribals, became extraneous. Indigenous and universal religion interface Before the onset of the universal religions in Asia, people followed their ­native indigenous home-grown religions. These were forms of Animism or Paganism, known by various names but essentially meaning more or less the same thing. Natural objects and natural phenomena, both inanimate and animate, were deified into gods, goddesses, spirits and deities and bestowed with humanized attributes. These religions constituted the core and essence based on which the societies and communities were formed and grew. They played two crucial roles. First, indigenous religions with their ­common features and attributes threaded together the people of Asia ­socio-culturally into a distinct group giving them a sense of affinity and ­togetherness. Second, people were identified and known by their e­ thnic identity and their respective indigenous religions conjointly, and not

Northeast India and Southeast Asia link  159 ­separately. Both ethnic identity and religion were inseparable two parts of a whole; one standing for the other. This held people of the same ethnicity (clan and group) together as believers of the same religion. When the universal religions came and converted people, they made a major fundamental conceptual change. They made these two indivisible parts – religious beliefs and a person’s ethnic (clan or group) identity – divisible. Ethnic identity was no longer descriptive of a person’s religious identity. And conversely, the religious beliefs of a person were no more indicative of a person’s ethnic identity. The impervious conceptual definition of clan or tribe got diluted since a person’s identity was no longer linked to their religious beliefs. Ethnic identity became vulnerable to change, manipulations and distortions. The impact was immediate. It divided people of the same clan, group or community into ‘converts’ (followers of universal religions) and the ‘non-converts’ (followers of indigenous religions). In a major sense, the clans, tribe and communities lost their grip and hold over their respective members, so essential and crucial for their survival, both physically, socially and mentally for their happiness as a group. The changes diluted the significance and importance of socio-cultural linkages and bonds by making it inconsequential and extraneous. Regionally, the communities and societies lost their only definitive anchorage and divided people by polarizing them on ethno-religious lines geo-politically. In the larger Asian context, the crucial link that threaded the various ethnic groups together into a cabal of indigenous believers was broken. These changes affected the natural acculturated process of identity formation across Asia including NEI. Dangerously, ethnic identity became a ‘construct’, not always wrong or bad, but unfortunately made bad because the conceptual change was exploited fully by political entrepreneurs for their own selfish needs and benefits. Ethnic identity lost its basic conceptual and structural definitiveness, becoming as it did, amenable to change – free to include as well as to exclude people. Across Asia, people drifted apart as followers of different universal religions. In NEI, as already observed, this took the form of a larger geographical, demographic and religious ‘divide’ – with the Hindu non-tribal communities confined in the lowland areas, while the Christianized tribal communities living in the highlands. This division fomented unhealthy political one-­upmanship and introduced ethnic identity politics, the curse of the NERI. In due course, people began neglecting their anthropological links, migration history, language, culture and shared social habits and values. The sense of belonging, of camaraderie and fraternization among the ­people of NEI lost its sheen. In the larger Asian context, NERI lost its SEA moorings and connections. European powers and socio-cultural ties Asia was ruthlessly colonized by Britain, French, Spain, Portugal and Holland between the 17th and 18th century. Each European power considering

160  Falguni Rajkumar the other as competitors went about setting up administrative institutions and structures, to keep each other in check. Asia was geopolitically Balkanized. Colonized SEA was in no position to break through this European security cordon. People of South Asia (NEI included) could no longer liaison and interact freely with people in SEA as they did in the past. Overnight, the old familiar traditional bonhomie as Asiatic people and communities was lost during this phase of European domination. Socio-cultural links and connections suffered a major setback. The noticeable common feature of colonization was geomorphological not anthropocentrical. The colonizers were much more interested in the rich natural and mineral resources, rather than the people in the colonies, i.e. their welfare and well-being. There were a few exceptions to this ­general trend and tendency at the personal and individual levels. In India, the ­British adopted the same formula – land first, people later. Nothing makes this more apparent than the British-India government’s Northeast Frontier Policy, which was designed to safeguard their ‘economic’ and ‘strategic’ interests. People living in the region were inconsequential. The NEI with its rich natural resources and forest wealth was converted into a major strategic buffer zone keeping the French and the Chinese in mind. This policy effectively isolated and cut-off the NERI from its Southeast Asian socio-cultural moorings and connectivity. Additionally, the British-India Government divided the people of NEI territorially and religion-wise in spite of the consequences this would have on the people. They did this at two levels. They first systematically isolated NERI from the rest of the country by preventing other Indians (non-­ Northeast Indians) from entering it by an ingenious British administrative legislation called the Bengal Eastern Frontier Regulation of 1873. And second, administratively, they differentiated the areas occupied by the upland tribal communities from those occupied by the non-tribals. This was enforced by imposing an imaginary line known as the ‘Inner Line’ under the same Regulation. The non-tribal communities were strictly prohibited from crossing this line. The ethnoscape of NEI was completely redefined by this undesirable change over. The British justified this isolationist policy of ‘containerizing people’ by exclusion to their audience back in Britain, as a step to protect and prevent the upland tribal communities from being exploited by the non-tribal communities. This of course was a ploy to hoodwink the British audience from learning the real reason behind this policy, which was to create a strategic buffer zone and line of defence to protect their commercial interests in the strategically sensitive Northeast frontier province. NEI was completely polarized on ethnic, religious and geographical lines – between tribals and non-tribals, Hindus and Christians and uplanders and lowlanders. Trying to revive and restore old socio-cultural links at that time was a lost cause.

Northeast India and Southeast Asia link  161 Before the European and Western powers, descent into Asia, the native rulers and princes pursued their political ambitions, but kept their traditional links and cultural ties with their neighbours intact, in fact zealously guarded it. There are several records to show that these contacts, both military and civilian, by a tenacious mix of both, kept the NEI and SEA connections alive. But all these changed when the European powers quite blatantly, in a way insensitively, shut and closed down the borders among the Asian kingdoms in an attempt to protect their colonial fiefdoms. Indians under the British found their movements to SEA (Greater India) restricted and curtailed even for trade and commerce. Whatever little influence and say India had on these kingdoms and countries in the SEAR was lost. Asian social and cultural ethos and sensibilities were swamped and overwhelmed by Western and occidental influences. A deluge of cultural substitution took place. Much of what was Asian, Indian or Southeast Asian was slowly swept under the carpet of western arrogance and impunity. Asian culture was under siege and under threat of being obliterated, at least temporarily. Governments in post-colonial Asia Not quite by design, but created by various acts of omission, commission and indiscretion during their rule, the parting European powers left ­several politically enmeshed and precariously instable countries. Someone had to clean up the administrative sticky mess these powers tied themselves and everyone into. The situation was chaotic. Unresolved clamour for independence based on ethnic, religious and other considerations were the most ­serious. In the first half of the 20th century, South, East Asia and SEA were in political turmoil. Post-colonization phase saw the old Asian countries re-emerge in new avatars. Communism, socialism and other ideologies were transplanted and imported. Financially too, most of these countries were precariously placed. Korea and Vietnam became four countries based on ideological grounds. The whole of Indo-China was engulfed in civil war as in ­Cambodia. ­I ndia was divided into three separate countries. Politically recalibrated Asia appeared alright on paper, but on the ground, people of the same ethnic groups with similar socio-cultural roots got redistributed. In NEI, the Nagas, Mizos, Meiteis, Assamese, Khasis and Garos, and host of other tribes and sub-tribes were divided across Burma and erstwhile East ­Pakistan. These divisions aggravated the pain and anger. Post-colonial Asia was in the grip of a unique brand of nationalism. As citizens of new Asian countries, people were exuberant, excited and hopeful. But, collaterally, deep within, they were sad, because the cloud of political uncertainty loomed large on them. This had to happen, when everyone was considered a suspect. India was no exception. And NEI, bordering four countries, witnessed many quotidian acts of state over-superintendence.

162  Falguni Rajkumar Asia was in the throes of political and socio-cultural re-jigging. It was certainly not the ideal time for contact or liaison with its neighbours. Even though good intentions prevailed, the new governments across Asia were simply too busy to be in a position for anything else. For the time being, socio-cultural issues were deemed as picayune.

Demystifying socio-cultural connectivity Trust between people and people at one level and between governments at another, are extremely desirable conditions in relational dynamics between nations. One can never overstate this premise. Suffice to say that sharing and learning of common heritable socio-cultural linkages, traits and values between people and countries, is one sure way to achieve trust and understanding between consenting national governments. And yet, there are those, both in India and in SEA, who consider that unfettered people to people contact and exchanges can imperil governments and countries. They see reviving historical pasts and socio-cultural links as unnecessarily opening old-wounds and stirring up old, failed political causes. Is there any weight in this apprehension? The fear may appear real, if the meaning of culture is misconstrued or deliberately discoloured. Properly deciphered and understood, reconnecting people to one another culturally, can actually mitigate misunderstandings, sooth nerves and calm restless minds. Non-clandestine contacts and communications between people is a form of social catharsis, a vital outlet for pent-up anger and love. Unintended consequences like everything else no doubt exist, but merely because of such possibilities, are Asians condemned not even to try and bridge the Asian cultural divide? With adequate checks and balances, like we do in all things, giving it a fair trial seems reasonable. Nation states can be defined either politically or socio-culturally. The political is tangible, recognized by the rigidly structured, geopolitically defined and demarcated physical spaces. The heritable socio-cultural entity encompasses attributes, traits and qualities that are intangible and impalpable, enabling them to easily transcend national and man-made political boundaries. There is nothing that prevents a citizen of one country from imbibing or inculcating the culture of another. Western and occidental ways of life govern modern day life in India, but Indians do not become less Indian, merely because of it. Within India, a Bengali may love gazals, or a Punjabi may enjoy Carnatic music. In each case, the Bengali or Punjabi does not become less of a Bengali or a Punjabi, merely because one loves gazals and the other Carnatic music. Socio-cultural features are no doubt symbols of identity of a race and people, a country or a nation. It may not be possible to delink people from their respective politically defined state-identities, but each one of them can certainly try to allow themselves, their cultures and social mores to be understood and appreciated just as other identities can try to understand and

Northeast India and Southeast Asia link  163 appreciate theirs in turn. And appreciating and liking them by anyone is most unlikely to upset or perturb anyone, even from a totalitarian state or government. In fact, such approbations, devoid of political posturing and overtones, add value to these symbols of identity as they reflect the maturity, malleability and flexibility of the parties involved in accommodating and appreciating other views and perspectives. Epistemologically, they provide a great opportunity for learning and harmonization of thoughts and ideas that is capable of transforming relationships among people and nations. Such reciprocity and approach between people in the NERI and the SEA qualitatively changes the process by which old broken ties and bonds – the casualties of circumstantial histories of the region – can be revived. Exchanges between Governments of India and SEAR already exist. Similarly, business and commercial enterprises and corporate houses have established healthy multilateral contacts and connections. Trade between ASEAN and India was around US$ 70 billion in 2014. It is the ‘Third Space’ where the intellectuals, scholars, social scientists, academics – both individuals and institutional – have to play their part. This group, with their scholarship and learning, has the potential to change and influence other groups (the governments and business group). Backed by them (Third Space), the historical, traditional and socio-cultural linkages found in anthropology, languages, folklores, oral histories, et cetera can change the relationships among Asian nations, including India. One can be reasonably certain, that pursuit of knowledge and understanding, and its correlates – appreciations, particularly in the socio-­culture arena – can in no way be a threat to governments or state per se. And in any case, in spite of all the vaulted claims it may have, culture like everything else is subject to subpoenaing by the governments of the day.

Way forward The aggregate of all the political disruptions and disquiet left the age-old linkages between India (Northeast) and the SEA totally in shambles, disjointed and without any moorings. The new governments in post-colonial Asia have been completely preoccupied in putting their countries in order, and did everything except to reconnect to one another as Asians socio-­ culturally. Caparisoned by new identities as independent nation states, the countries clung on to their old Asian moorings by only a few strands of occasional exchanges, indicative of a fading link and association. But unexpectedly, new opportunity did come. In a rare happening, ten Asian countries got together to form the ASEAN Regional Forum in the early 1970s. Asia was reconnected formally, albeit for economic purposes. Unfortunately by then, India had drifted far out towards the Soviet and the West. And NEI, clutched by overzealous and fidgety New Delhi, tagged along with the rest of the country. A rare opportunity not only to re-link

164  Falguni Rajkumar India to SEA economically but also to re-establish old socio-cultural links and ties was lost. NERI had to wait for another opportunity. As if destined, another chance and opportunity came unexpectedly in the 1990s. India, faced with a major balance of payment crises, put the country’s economic policy under intense scrutiny. The results indicated that India had to change course, abandon its old restrictive economic trade and economic policies and practices, and instead, plunge headlong into the heady world of globalized world economic order. India was on the throes of an economic rebirth. Economic liberalization became India’s new economic mantra. New terms like Look East Policy, rechristened as Act East Policy, became catch phrases in the corridors of powers in New Delhi. Refurbished India approached its international economic relations and commitments with much more astute pragmatism. India’s East and Southeast Asian neighbours became focal countries for deeper and wider diplomatic discourse. This recalibration made the NERI part of the new policy. That long-awaited opportune time for NERI to reconnect to SEAR socio-culturally had come. This assumption is not without adequate good reasoning. With globalization came ‘malleability’ as nations spatially squeezed in notionally to redefine borders for smoother economic transactions. Territoriality, the descriptive attribute that defines a nation state was getting less acuminate. It was a small change, but an important one. The barriers between countries were getting less imperious, less stringent and much more accessible, to facilitate freer flow of goods and services. Regionalism came to mean partnership and cooperation among countries, an acceptable term in political discourse. ASEAN, the all purposeful collective of ten Southeast Asian countries, began compressing ‘space’ and ‘time’ to speed ‘up the turnover time of capital’ formation in Asia. The possibilities were immense. India, which has a Strategic Partnership status with ASEAN, could use its good offices to re-establish its links with Southeast Asian countries through the NERI. The logic was simple: if countries in Asia could come together in a partnership for economic development, why could they not also come together for an Asian socio-cultural confluence? Could NERI, euphemistically known as the ‘arrow head’ of India to SEAR for economic purpose, certainly be the flag-bearer of the country’s socio-cultural links? The conditions and settings for an India-Southeast Asia cultural interface and partnership, with NEI in focus, seem right.

‘Third space’; need for a forum Given these imperatives, what one has in mind is a via media: a modus vivendi having a platform or forum for exchanging views and dialogue to begin with. Under the existing ASEAN-India Vision statement adopted in the ASEAN-India Commemorative Summit held in New Delhi on 20 ­February 2012, people-to-people contact forms an important area of focus as part of socio-cultural cooperation. This needs to be much more

Northeast India and Southeast Asia link  165 vigorously and purposefully pursued and made NEI centric. Seminars, conferences, ­exchange visits on culture, festivities, culinary exchanges, et cetera are just a few. A good successful example of such effort for emulation is the ‘International Conference: Indigenous Terra Madre 2015’ held from 3 to 7 ­November 2015 in Shillong. Fifty-eight countries representing 140 indigenous communities from across the world comprising 640 delegates participated ‘to celebrate their food cultures and discuss how to bring their knowledge and vision of food production into modern times’. The Indian Council for Cultural Relations, the Ministry of Culture and Ministry of Development of North Eastern Region and organizations like INTACH can play a leading and pioneering role. How does a revisit to the past – culling out old fables, lost tales, misinterpreted events – foster better understanding between NEI and SEA? The answer is simple. We need to unleash the power of our scholarships and knowledge to soften hardened minds and change ways of thinking by putting things in the proper perspective. I believe this is imminently possible. Some may argue that it is not the job of social scientists and scholars to play the role of peace-makers in the region. But then, what worth is all the knowledge if it does not serve any public good? At the cost of sounding platitudinous, I have a prescription to make. People in India, particularly in the NERI need to reinvent themselves by revisiting their respective socio-cultural histories to know themselves and each other much better. They should do this, not by shifting their loyalties to their country – India – which a few have unfortunately done. Instead, they should recalibrate and use the leverage of their socio-cultural historical roots and become the cultural traversal between India (NEI) and SEA. They will then realize that they are socio-culturally intertwined, and are part of the larger Southeast Asian cultural ethnoscape.

Epilogue This chapter has tried to present three main causes responsible for the historical disconnect and disruptions between the NERI and the SEAR. These are the role of the universal religions, the run-of-the-mill story of colonial conquests, and the difficult consolidation efforts of the new Asiatic governments in the post-colonial phase. But for the fact that the old historical and socio-cultural links between SEA and the NEI persist and linger on, the deleterious memories and effects of these three factors would have been made obsequiously irrelevant. As things stand, cultural, social and other forms of associations of ­intangible heritage can change relationships among people and nations for the better. But simultaneously, their preponderance is reflective of a deep and powerful subconscious need for people having similar socio-cultural links to be together. And because these are powerful, they can create mayhem and anarchy if not satisfactorily addressed. They present a piquant

166  Falguni Rajkumar situation, capable of going either way – constructive or destructive. This can be a sobering thought. It is possible that the problems of ethnic upheavals and political mayhem that the NERI and large parts of SEA have witnessed in recent times – punctuated once in a while by bloodshed – may have something to do with peoples’ inability to ‘connect’ to their ‘pasts’, their anthropological roots, migration history, social and cultural links. One can view these as people wanting to reconnect to their ancient past to feel more secure, happy and to find their comfort zone, which Asians lost due to the intrusive interventions from many exogenous foreign influences. The fear of losing their identic roots is real. Dr. James Hollis, co-founder of the C.G. Jung Institute of Philadelphia and Saybrook University’s Jungian Studies program, in his well known book Hauntings: Dispelling the Ghosts Who Run Our Lives, puts across the reality about the ‘past’ with the William Faulkner quote, ‘The past is never dead. It’s not even past’. Human memories are long and linger on in the subconscious. In the larger context, one needs to read subtle nuances involved in the present situation across Asia including the NEI. One thing is certain, the boundaries of nation states cannot be altered now, not as easily as a few may think. But nothing prevents, amidst all these, people from at least reconnecting to their past by regenerating interests in anthropological connectivity, social and cultural linkages and indigenous shared values across Asia. One believes that reviving these age-old heritable features still available in the form of oral local histories, traditional indigenous beliefs, legends, fables, et cetera in the NERI and the SEA can soften attitudes and induce people to change their ways of thinking about each other. If the 21st century is to be truly an Asian century, as many believe it could be, a modus vivendi of the kind never seen needs scripting by ­leveraging an Asian socio-cultural linkage. It’s the only missing feature to make the ‘Asian century’ a reality.

Reference International Conference: Indigenous Terra Madre, 2015, Extract from Conference Papers. Retrieved from http://www.slowfood.com.

Index

Note: Bold page numbers refer to tables and italic page numbers refer to figures. Abdullah, Mohamed Mansor 54 Aboriginal communities 151 Act East Policy 164 a∙dikka 93–94 African language 48 Aijw Afat (Women’s Association) 142, 146 Ali Badron bin Haji Sabor 60 American Baptist Mission in Assam 127 amphora 99, 100 Angami Naga (Kohima village) 80–89; Angamis (Kohima, Northeast India) 87–89; clan structure and formation of thinuos 83–85; cultural continuities 87–89; linguistic implications of cultural practices 86–87; marriage practices 85–86; oral narratives 83–86; overview 80–81; reconstructing the past from the present 83–86; Sui (China, Southeast Asia) 87–89 Animism 158 Ao, Temsula 11 Ao Naga community: and animals and plants 38; folklores from 37–38; traditional 38 archaeological context: potsherds from 104; pottery in 102–105; Selbalgre potsherds from 105 ‘Area Studies’ 2 Arnold, David 127 ASEAN 33, 163 ASEAN-India Commemorative Summit 164 ASEAN-India Vision statement 164 ASEAN Regional Forum 163 Ashraf, A. A. 91

Asia: and ‘community culture’ 137; consolidation of modern state in 21; governments in post-colonial 161–162 Asian communities 157 Austro-Asiatic Khasi tribes 36 ‘Autonomous District Council’ 18 Ayurvedic practice 133–134 Badang folk tale 62–64 Baeuq Loegdoh 26 Baeuq Roxdoh 26 “Bahasa Melayu” language 55 Baruah, Sanjib 18 Bascom, R. William 52 Bathou Bwrai 144 Bathou worships 144–145, 147 Bawang Putih dan Bawang Merah (Shallot and Garlic) 63 belief systems 7, 74, 109–110, 112, 118 Bengal Eastern Frontier Regulation of 1873 160 Berry, J. 124 Bharatiya Janata Party 134 Bible 127 Bodo Territorial Council (BTC) 147 body: as docile 129; health and 129–130; hospital and 129–130; Northeast India 129–130 Boro culture 142; Boro women and material culture 138–139; brewing in Boro society 142–144; overview 136–137; rituals and customs 144–145; role of women in making of 136–147; weaving and tradition 139–142 Boro language 146

168 Index Boro Mahila Samitis 142 Boro society: and advent of globalisation 142; and Boro culture 142–144; and Boro women 142–144, 146; marketoriented 137; politically restive 137; as traditionally egalitarian 141 Boro women 142; and Boro society 142–144, 146; and material culture 138–139; rituals and customs 144–145; weaving and tradition 139–142 Bose, N. K. 152 Bouq Luagh daeuz 26 Bouslaoxdauz 26 ‘Brahma Dharma’ 143 Brahmanism 46 British Medical Journal 132 British Missionaries 110 British Raj 133 Buddhism 46, 157 Buluotuo Cultural Festival 29; performances vs. traditions 30–33; state-sponsored 29–30 Buluotuo Cultural Tourism Festival 8, 25 Buluotuo culture 25–34; Buluotuo Cultural Festival 30–33; development of 27–30; discovery of Buluotuo myths and scriptures 25–27; overview 25; performances vs. traditions 30–33; and Zhuang religiosity 30; as Zhuang’s intangible cultural heritage (ICH) 30 Buluotuo myths and scriptures 25–27 ‘The Buluotuo Scriptures – an Annotated Translation’ 27 Burling, Robbins 81 Cambodian folktales 38–40 capitalism: ceasefire 22; global 22 care: cure and 128–129; Milton Mayeroff on 128; modern health 10, 124, 129, 131 Carey, William 17 case study of Angami Naga (Kohima village) 80–89 ceasefire capitalism 22 Centre for Community Knowledge of Ambedkar University Delhi (AUD) 13 ceremonial pots 102 C.G. Jung Institute of Philadelphia 166 Chakhro Angamis 82 Chinese Communist Party 25 Chinese national unity 25

Chittagong Hill Tracts 14 Chomsky, Noam 47 Christianity 15, 107, 110, 126, 157–158 Christianized tribal communities 159 Christian missionaries 110, 127 clan structure, and formation of thinuos in Kohima village 83–85 Colonial Anthropology vs Indological Sociology (Singha) 151 colonial houses 117; domain 122, 123; interior spaces of 118; path 121, 122; place 121; shape and form of 118; variations and constant in 117–118, 118 Comaroff, Jean 128 Comaroff, John 128 communication: face-to-face 78; human 68, 74; inter-personal 69, 78–79; intra-personal 78–79; mass 9; nonverbal 52, 65, 119; oral 78; social 9, 65; symbolic 77; systemically distorted 7; traditional 69–70, 74, 78; verbal 52 Communism 161 communities: Aboriginal 151; Asian 157; Christianized tribal 159; Hindu non-tribal 159; indigenous 17, 125–126, 165; mercantile 4; ‘minority’ 8; Naga 126; non-tribal 160; tribal 3, 7, 18, 20, 35–36, 50, 160; upland 17–18, 20, 158, 160 ‘community culture’ 137 constancy and change 109–123 continuities: Angamis (Kohima, Northeast India) 87–89; cultural 11, 80–81, 87–89; Sui (China, Southeast Asia) 87–89 cooking pots 101 cultural continuities 11, 80–81, 87–89; Angamis (Kohima, Northeast India) 87–89; Sui (China, Southeast Asia) 87–89 cultural practice and transformation 8–10 Cultural Revolution 8, 25–26, 34 cure and care 128–129; Northeast India 128–129 Darwinists 51 development of “Buluotuo Culture” 27–30 didimpu 37

Index  169 didimpui 37 digital animation and folk tales 63–64 Digital Animation MSC Malaysia 63 dikka 92–94, 100, 102, 103, 104 dikrong 99, 100, 101–102, 104 Eastern Asiatic Neolithic tradition 91 East Garo Hills (Self Help Group) 92 Eaton, Richard M. 126 Effendy, Tenas 58 Elwin, Verrier 9, 148–154, 149; birth of 150; G.S. Ghurye on 151–152; and Mahatma Gandhi 150; as presenter of Tales of the Tribes films 148–154; and “tribal bias” 152 “Estetika dalam Puisi Melayu Moden: Ditinjau dari Aspek Bahasa” (Kadir) 55 ‘ethnic homelands’ 18 ethnicity: ethnicity-based rights 14; Garo 18; and locality 18; territorialization of 18 ethnic tourism 25 ethnography: as history 17; of oral cultures 10–11; reflexive 11 European powers and socio-cultural ties 159–161 exaggerated language/hyperbole: Malay folk tales 60–63 Extended Eastern Himalayas 2 face-to-face communication 78 folklores: from Ao Naga community 37–38; from Zeliangrong Naga community 36–37 folktales: Cambodian 38–40; digital animation and 63–64; of Japan 41; Khmer 44–51; from Myanmar 42–43; Thai 44; Vietnamese 40–41 Folk-tales of Mahakoshal 149 Foucault, Michel 129, 130 French missionaries 158 ‘the friction of terrain’ 21 Gachui, R. 91 Gandhi, Mahatma 150 Garo culture 15–16 Garo ethnicity 18 Garo Hills: pot making in 92–98; pottery technology in 91–107 The Garo Jungle Book (Carey) 17 Garo pottery: amphora 100; ceremonial pots 102; cooking pots 101; functions

of pots 101–102; miscellaneous types 100; morpho-functional classification 102; morphological types 99; openmouthed pots 99; pots with neck 99–100; sacred pots 102; storing pots 101–102; types and functions of 99–102; utilitarian pots 101–102 The Garos (Playfair) 17 Garo social networks 19 Garo traditions, imagining 15–17 Geo Magazine 16 Ghurye, G. S. 151–152 Giles’s report 127 global capitalism 18 governments in post-colonial Asia 161–162 grains storing pot 102 Guangxi Folk Literature and Art Association 26 Guangxi Minority Ancient Manuscripts Editing Office 27 Guangxi Zhuang Studies Association 28, 29 Gudi (Guangxi artist) 27–28 Gupta Dynasty 156 Gurudev Kalicharan Brahma 143 Hagan, David 15 Hall, Edward T. 78 Hamid, Hamidah Abdul 59 Hamid, Ismail 54 Hardiman, David 127 Hart, M. A. 152 Hassan, Abdullah 60 Hassan, Halimah 52 Hauntings: Dispelling the Ghosts Who Run Our Lives (Hollis) 166 Haviland, William A. 55 healing: scientific-laboratory methods of 134; spirits and 126; traditional 124–126, 128–134 health: body and 129–130; in Northeast India 124–134 health-care enterprise: in Manipur 132–133; in Mizoram 132–133 Heidegger, Martin 47, 49 hierarchies and connections 19–20 Highland Asia: cultural continuities across 11; marginal geographies of 2; oral traditions in 1–12 Highlands as lived spaces 4–6 Hinduism 126, 152, 157–158 Hindu nationalists 152

170 Index Hindu non-tribal communities 159 history: Boro 147; ethnography as 17; oral 81 Hivale, Shamrao 150 Hollis, James 166 Homeopathy 133–134 hospital: body and 129–130; health and 129–130; and medical technology 130; modern 125, 129; private 132–133; specialized 133 human communication 68, 74 Hutton, J. H. 85, 151 identity: Bodo cultural 144–145; clan 10, 87, 159; ethnic 158–159; Malay 60; multi-layered 82, 88; pan-Boro 144; symbols of 162–163; Western 152; Zhuang 8, 34 Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage (INTACH) 13, 165 indigenous and universal religion interface 158–159 indigenous communities 17, 125–126, 165 Intangible Cultural Heritage 25, 30 internal colonialism 5 ‘International Conference: Indigenous Terra Madre 2015’ 165 International Fund for Agricultural Development 16 inter-personal communication 69, 78–79 intra-personal communication 78–79 Islam 55, 157–158 Japan, folktale of 41 Jarjis, Jamaluddin 64 ‘Journey to the Harmonious Land of the Garo’ (Castel) 16 Ka Aiom Ksiar (Golden Age) 71 Kadir, Kamarruzzaman A. 55 Kadir, Wan 54 kalchi 102 Karaka, D. F. 154 Ka Sotti Juk (Holy Age) 71 Kearney, Richard 47 Khasi language 70 Khasi mythology 71 Khasi oral traditional communication: characteristics of traditional communication 69; oral tradition of Khasi 69–79; overview 68–69 Khasi religious system 113

Khasis: domain 121–123; material and construction techniques 114–117; oral tradition of 69–79; overview 109–110; path 121; place 120–121; response to climate 114–117; scared and the profane 114; shape and form 113, 118–119; spaces 113–114; spatial setting of traditional house 111–112; traditional khasi houses and variants 110–111; variants of Khasi traditional house 110–111; variations and constant in colonial houses 117–118 Khasi traditional house 111; construction details 116; response to climate 115; sacred and profane space 115; variants of 110–111 Kherai dance 144–145, 147 Khmer folk tale 44–51 the King of Thunder 26 Kisah Sang Kancil (The Story of A Mousedeer) 63 Kleinman, Arthur 128 language: African 48; Boro 146; exaggerated 60–63; Habermas on 69; indigenous 48; Khasi 70; Malay 59–60; rhythmic 53, 55–56; “speciation” of 4; and storytelling of Malay folk tales 55–57; TibetoBurman 80; variation 81–82, 86–87; verbal 52; vernacular 5; Zhuang 29 Leach, Edmund R. 20, 124 Lehman, F. Kris 20 linguistic implications of cultural practices 86–87 linguistic study of speech communities: integrating oral narratives in 80–89 lived spaces, Highlands as 4–6 Lizaba 37 Look East Policy 164 lowlands: connections 19–20; hierarchies 19–20 McLean, A. 127 McQuail, D. 68 The magic powder 42–43 Malay folk tales 59; data analysis and interpretation 55–64; digital animation and folk tales 63–64; exaggerated language/hyperbole 60–63; language used in storytelling of 55–57; overview 52–55; “pantun”

Index  171 and storytelling of 57–60; relevancy of Malay folk tales and contemporary world 63; uniqueness of storytelling on 52–66 Malay language 59–60 Malaysia 63; animation field in 63–65; Malay society in 54; Multimedia Development Corporation (MDeC) 64 Malaysia Animation Creative Content Center (MAC) 64 Malinowski, Bronisław 124, 150 ManiBabu, M. 91, 106 Manipur: body, health and hospital 129–130; cure and care 128–129; health-care enterprise in 132–133; indigenous communities in 126; modern health-care practices in 129; oral tradition and traditional healing 124–125; pottery tradition of 91; spirits and healing 126; traditional healing in 130–132; vaccination and missionaries 126–128 Manipur Health Directorate 133 Manipur Nursing Home & Clinic Registration Act, 1992 132 Manjoor Jhali (the Creation of the Peacock) 149 Man Tiger Spirit 149 Maritime Silk Routes 36 market economy 25 marriage practices: Angami Naga (Kohima village) 85–86; exogamy 85–86; intra-thinuo marriages 85–86 mass communication 9 matchamdik 102 material culture 12–13, 54, 137–138 Mawrie, H. O. 50 Maybury-Lewis, David 47 Mayeroff, Milton 128 Medhi, B. 91 medik 100–102, 101 mercantile communities 4 ‘minority’ communities 8 Miri, Sujata 50 Misra, Sanghamitra 20 missionaries: British 110; Christian 110, 127, 152, 158; European 70; French 158; vaccination and 126–128 mithuns 3 Mizoram: health-care enterprise in 132–133; indigenous communities in 126; modern health-care practices

in 129; specialized hospitals in 133; traditional healing in 130–132; and Vaccination Act 127 modern health care 10, 124, 129, 131 modern health practice 128 modern medicine: body, health and hospital 129–130; cure and care 128–129; health-care enterprise in Mizoram and Manipur 132–133; in nonwestern societies 127; in Northeast India 124–134; vaccination and missionaries 126–128 Mohd, Ainon 60 Momotarō 41 motho ke motho ka batho (Sotho proverb) 48 Mountainous Mainland South East Asia (MMSEA) 6; see also Highland Asia mountain people (montagnards) 14 Munshi, I. 151 Muse, China-Myanmar border crossing 2 Myanmar 1–3, 13, 35–36, 80, 156; Buddhism in 157; Christianity in 158; folktale from 42–43 Myths of Middle India 149 Myths of the North-east Frontier of India, Volume 1 149 Naga communities 126 Nanning Daily 28 Nanning Folk Song Research Institute 31 Nanning International Folk Song Arts Institute 28 narrative folklore 52 narratives: of experience 2; of memory 2; oral 80–89; of practice 2 National Geographic Channel 17 Naturopathy 134 NEFA 153 Nehru, Jawaharlal 1, 152 Neolithic culture 157 Neolithic pottery 91 A New Book of Tribal Fiction 149 Ngullie, R. 91, 105 non-narrative folklore 52 non-tribal communities 160 non-verbal communication 52, 65, 119 Norberg-Schulz, Christian 113, 119 Northeast India 35–51; body, health and hospital 129–130; Cambodian folktales 38–40; cure and care

172 Index 128–129; ethnicity and locality 18; ethnography as history 17; folklores from Ao Naga community 37–38; folklores from Zeliangrong Naga community 36–37; folktale from Myanmar 42–43; folktale of Japan 41; geography and other determinants 157; health, spirits and modern medicine in 124–134; health-care enterprise in Manipur 132–133; health-care enterprise in Mizoram 132–133; hierarchies and connections 19–20; imagining Garo traditions 15–17; Khmer folk tale 44–51; oral tradition and traditional healing 124–125; oral traditions in 1–12; overview 13–14; the peasant, the buffalo and the tiger 40–41; and Southeast Asia 156–166; spirits and healing 126; territorializing states 21–22; Thai folktale 44; towards a trans-regional perspective 22–23; traditional healing in Mizoram and Manipur 130–132; uplands and lowlands 19–20; vaccination and missionaries 126–128; Vietnamese folktale 40–41 Northeast Region of India (NERI) 157; demystifying socio-cultural connectivity 162–163; disruptive narrative 157–162; epilogue 165–166; European powers and socio-cultural ties 159–161; governments in post-colonial Asia 161–162; indigenous and universal religion interface 158–159; role of universal religions 157–158; ‘third space’ and need for a forum 164–165; way forward 163–164 Northern Angamis 82 Nye Mayel Kyong 149 open-mouthed pots 99 oral communication 78 oral cultures: ethnographies of 10–11; transformation and 6–8 oral narratives: Angami Naga (Kohima village) 83–86; integrating in linguistic study of speech communities 80–89; reconstructing the past from the present 83–86 Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology (Vansina) 70, 73 oral traditions 124–125; defined 73–74; in Highland Asia 1–12; Jan

Vansina on 73–74; of the Khasi 69–79; Northeast India 124–125; in Northeast India 1–12; and traditional healing 124–125 ‘Oral Traditions: Continuity and Transformations’ Conference 5–6 ‘Oral Traditions: Continuity and Transformations: North East India and South East Asia’ 13 Orientalism 152 Osman, Mohd Taib 53–54, 63 Paganism 158 Pallava Dynasty 156 Panch Shila policy 152 pantun: characteristics of 57; creation of 59–60; explicit and implicit meaning of 59; and its uniqueness in storytelling of Malay folk tales 57–60; and rhythmic language 53 the peasant, the buffalo and the tiger (Vietnamese folktale) 40–41 performance and Zhuang oral traditions 25–34 Playfair, Major 17, 106 post-colonial Asia: governments in 161–162; and nationalism 161–162 pot-making: fabrication 1 94–96; fabrication 2 96–97; firing 97–98; polishing 97; pre-firing 97; preparation of clay 94; steps in 94–98 pot making in Garo Hills: ethnographic account 92–98; raw material and its procurement 93; steps in 94–98 pots: ceremonial 102; cooking 101; functions of 101–102; morphofunctional classification of 104; with neck 99–100; open-mouthed 99; potsherds from the archaeological context 104; sacred 102; storing 101–102; utilitarian 101–102 pottery: in archaeological context 102–105; pottery in archaeological context 102–105; technology in Garo Hills 91–107 pottery technology in Garo Hills 91–107; ethnographic account 92–98; overview 91–92; pot making in Garo Hills 92–98; pottery in archaeological context 102–105; types and functions of Garo pottery 99–102 Ramirez, Philippe 19 reflexive ethnography 11

Index  173 relevancy of Malay folk tales and contemporary world 63 religions: community 15, 18; folk 9, 144; indigenous 158–159; role of universal 157–159; vernacular 5; Zhuang indigenous 27; Zhuang religiosity 30 rhythmic language 53, 55–56 Ricoeur, Paul 47 rituals and customs: Boro culture 144–145; Boro women 144–145 ritual verbal expressions 77 Rolston, Holmes, III 50 Roy, S. K. 91, 102, 105–106

spirits: ancestor 28; evil 44–45; in Northeast India 124–134 Stanford, James N. 81, 88 states, territorializing 21–22 storing pots 101–102 storytelling on Malay folk tales 52–66; identity of 59–60; uniqueness of the language used in 55–57 Sui (China, Southeast Asia) 87–89 Supreme Father God 36–37 Sweeney, Amin 57, 59 swiddening 5 symbolic communication 77 systemically distorted communication 7

sacred pots 102 Said, Aripin 53 Säid, E. 152 samdik 99–100, 100, 101 sangkho 99, 102 Sangma, Arak 154 Saybrook University’s Jungian Studies program 166 Schein, Louisa 34 Scott, James 14, 19, 21, 35 seeds storing pot 102 Selat, Norazit 58 “selective cultural preservation” 25 the Serpent 26 Sharma, T. C. 91, 102 Shillong, Khasi Hills, India 1–2 Sidhi 134 Singh, O. K. 91 Singha, A. C. 151 Smith, Edwin 151 social communication 9, 65 socialism 161 “socialist spiritual civilization” 30 socio-cultural connectivity 162–163 Southeast Asia 35–51; geography and other determinants 157; and Northeast India 156–166 Southeast Asian Region (SEAR) 157; demystifying socio-cultural connectivity 162–163; disruptive narrative 157–162; epilogue 165–166; European powers and socio-cultural ties 159–161; governments in post-colonial Asia 161–162; indigenous and universal religion interface 158–159; role of universal religions 157–158; ‘third space’and need for a forum 164–165; way forward 163–164 Southern Angamis 82

Tales of the Tribes films 154; Elwin as presenter of 148–154 The Tallest Story Competition 148–149 Taoists 26 Tapta 149 Taylor, Charles 48–49 Tedlock, D. 77 “10 Collections and Annals of Chinese/ Folk Literature and Arts” 26 territorializing states 21–22 Thai folktale 44 Thanzawna, R. L. 126 Tianyang Museum 28 Tianyang Party Committee 28 Tibetan Medicine 134 Tibeto-Burman languages 80 the Tiger 26 “The Toad and the Rain” 41 traditional communication 69–70, 74, 78; characteristics of 69 traditional healer 124–126, 128, 130–133 traditional healing 125, 128; in Manipur 130–132; in Mizoram 130–132; oral tradition and 124–125 traditional health practices 128 traditional house: construction details 116; domain 121, 123; Khasi 111; path 121, 122; place 120, 120; response to climate 114–117, 115, 116; sacred and profane space 115; spatial setting of 111–112; variation within 112 ‘traditional Naga cosmology’ 126 transformations: and cultural practice 8–10; and oral cultures 6–8 tribal communities 3, 7, 18, 20, 35–36, 50, 160 Tribal Myths of Orissa 149 The Tribal World of Verrier Elwin (Elwin) 153

174 Index Unani 134 uniqueness of language in storytelling of Malay folk tales 55–57 universal religions, role of 157–158 U Nu 1 upland: communities 17–18, 20, 158, 160; hierarchies and connections 19–20 utilitarian pots 101–102 vaccination 126–128; and missionaries 126–128; Northeast India 126–128 Vaccination Act 126–127 Van Schendel, Willem 2, 14 Vansina, Jan 69, 73 Varghese, Saji 7, 126 Vasa, D. 91 verbal communication 52 verbal language 52 vernacular language 5 Vietnamese folktales 40–41 water storing pot 101 weaving and tradition: Boro culture 139–142; Boro women 139–142 Western Angamis 82 Western civilization 127 wet-rice monocropping 5

Wittgenstein, Ludwig 49 women: Angami 86; Boro 138–147; and Boro culture 136–147; Garo 106; and Garo pottery 107; and indigenous societies 136–137; and patriarchy 86; Suis 88–89; weaving and tradition 139–142 Woods, Kevin 22 World Health Organization (WHO) 124 Yaacub, Ibrahim 54 Yoga 134 Youjiang Daily 28 Zeliangrong Naga community 36–37 Zhang Qian 4 Zhuang (the Tai-speaking people) 25 Zhuang intangible cultural heritage (ICH) 30 Zhuang intellectual elites 27 Zhuang language 29 Zhuang Nationality 27, 29 Zhuang oral traditions 8; as performance 25–34 Zhuang script 27 Zhuang society 8, 27 Zomia see Highland Asia