Category Archives: Indigenous Cultures

LODAGAA

#3 The Day of Death: Restraining the Bereaved to Prevent Suicide
     (Jack Goody, 1962)

The stage is now set; kinsfolk and ritual specialists have completed their preparations, and the body of the dead man now rests upon the funeral stand, ready to receive a mourning tribute from all those dwelling in the neighborhood, as well as from other kinsfolk who live at greater distances. For the messengers have now set off to other villages, and the music of the xylophones has spread news of the death throughout the parish, and to nearby settlements as well. All those who hear the funereal notes, however faintly, have some obligation to attend. Indeed, such occasions are the most important times when members of the ritual area congregate together in any sizable number. And apart from the premium placed upon attendance, to stay away can be taken as a sign of possible complicity in the death….

While the xylophones are playing, the lineage “wives” and “sisters” of the dead man walk and run about the area in front of the house, crying lamentations and holding their hands behind the nape of the neck in the accepted attitude of grief. The close male kinsfolk act in a similar manner, though they are somewhat more subdued than the women. From time to time, one of the immediate mourners breaks into a trot, even a run, and a bystander either intercepts or chases after the bereaved and quietens him by seizing his wrist. Those continuing to display such violent grief are secured round the wrist by a length of fibre or hide, the other end of which is held by a companion or follower of the bereaved…. For the closest mourner the material form of restraint is more effective, and a strip of hide, usually cowhide (ganaa), is tied firmly to the wrist, around which a piece of cloth has first been wrapped.

These different methods of tying and restraining the bereaved are indices of the socially expected reactions to grief on the part of various categories of person and are therefore of particular value in elucidating certain general aspects of these roles. The modes of restraint employed for the different kinship positions are as follows:

Man’s funeral

Father. …… ………..Tied by hide

Mother. ….. .. …… .Tied by hide

Wife . …….. . ….. .. Tied by hide

Brother. …. . ……… Tied by fibre

Sister. ………………. Tied by fibre

Son … .. …. . . . ….. String tied around the ankle

Daughter ……….. …String tied around the ankle

Woman’s funeral

Husband …….. …Tied by hide and cloth; string around waist and ankle

Father ……… …. . Tied by hide (in the case of an unmarried daughter)

Mother ….. . …. . Tied by hide (in the case of an unmarried daughter)

Brother …. .. . . . Tied by fibre

Sister ….. .. …….. Tied by fibre

Son …. . ………… String tied around the ankle

Daughter… . …… String tied around the ankle

The use of hide is limited to the persons who are presumed to lose most by the death, and of these a husband suffers hardest of all. It is only within this first category of bereaved that ritual precautions are taken against suicide. The second category of close mourners includes those who are considered less likely to do themselves harm; not only the kinsfolk listed above, but any other close affinal, agnatic, or matrilateral relative who runs about in front of the stand may be caught and tied round the wrist with fibre. In the third category come the children of the deceased who, though they are usually followed by a companion, wear only a piece of string tied round the ankle and often another tied round the neck….

…A further means of protecting the living against the dead is revealed in the methods of restraining kin. …persons tied with hide and fibre are distinguished from the offspring of the deceased, who have only a string tied around the ankle. The string is not in fact an attempt to restrain them; this their companions do by seizing the mourner’s wrists. It is rather a protective device comparable to the disguises adopted to deceive the ghosts. Here the tying of string round the ankle is thought to prevent the bereaved’s soul from leaving his body. At the end of the therapeutic ritual known as “sweeping the soul,” during the course of which an errant soul is made to re-enter the body it has abandoned, a string is also tied around the patient’s ankle. In both cases the string binds the soul within the human frame. For outside the body it is an easy prey for the witches and other malevolent agencies, such as the ghost of the dead man, from whom at his funeral the danger is seen to come. Another reason given by the LoDagaa for performing this rite is to soothe the patient’s anxiety; it is done, they say,… “lest your heart jump.” If your heart is troubled, then your soul is likely to be in danger, for it may have left the body that houses it….

…the methods of restraining the close bereaved, who fall mainly within the dead man’s families of orientation and procreation, reflect the socially recognized attitudes toward him. In this respect the parental is sharply differentiated from the filial role. A man will be expected to display great grief at the death of a young son, one, that is, who is past infancy and has acquired a social personality. The older the son, the less pronounced will be the parental grief displayed. Nevertheless, the father is always more affected by the son’s death than the son by the father’s, and although the son has a funeral companion, he is not restrained in any other of the formal ways. Indeed, the son has to be protected from his father’s ghost and is even suspected of being responsible for his father’s death. The reverse never occurs; a father needs no protection against his dead son, nor to the best of my knowledge is he ever directly implicated in his son’s death.

Another indication of the same imbalance in the parent-child relationship is to be seen in the occurrence of suicide attempts, which are a standardized method of demonstrating grief at the loss of a relative. The following two examples will show the differences involved. When Duure, the wife of Wura (Tshaa, Birifu), returned home one day from fetching firewood, she was too tired to carry her large bundle up to the roof and then down again into her own courtyard. So she threw the wood over the high wall of the yard; unfortunately her young son was playing there and was killed on the spot. The distracted Duure stuck a poisoned arrow in the wall and ran toward it; but at the last moment her resolution failed and she turned aside.

Whereas it is recognized that a parent may threaten or attempt to kill himself at the death of a child, the opposite would be unthinkable. When Ziem’s father died, no precautions against suicide were taken on his behalf. However, when his young son died some time afterward, he tried to kill himself with a poisoned arrow, and his “father” from another lineage had to bring a pair of the tongs used by smiths, and Ziem was made to grasp these in his hands. The tools of the smith, and indeed the smithy itself, are closely associated with the Earth shrine. “The smithy is (the same in certain respects as) the Earth shrine” say the LoDagaa.

One aspect of this association, possibly the major one, lies in the common link with iron. Iron ore is dug from out of the earth, and throughout the Voltaic region all unclaimed objects made from that metal belong to the Earth shrine. In smelting ore and in forging iron, the smith is working with the earth itself, and his role is in some respects assimilated to that of the custodian of the Earth shrine. For the smith who makes the weapons of war can also act as a peacemaker; like the Earth priest, he can throw ashes and make hot things cold. Hence the tools of his trade are thought of as having the power to quieten a man inclined to self-violence, a theory that is supported by the belief that after holding the tongs any attempt at suicide would prove fruitless; the wound would only remain open for three (or four) years, causing great pain to the person who had tried to kill himself. Thus giving the bereaved the tongs to grasp is like giving a suspected witch some earth to swallow. Both acts are carried out under the threat of force and both invoke the Earth shrine. Strictly speaking, however, in the first case the bereaved is made to take a conditional, though silent, oath; whereas in the second he is submitted to an ordeal, a mystical test of guilt.

…why in the standardized procedures of the LoDagaa, members of the junior generation express less grief at the death of a member of the senior generation than the reverse. But there is a further aspect of parent-child relationships that an examination of the modes of restraining the bereaved brings out. The list of methods of restraint shows that in the case of the death of a married woman, the father and mother are not bound round the wrist with hide, as they are for an unmarried daughter or a son. The major loss involved is now regarded as falling upon the husband rather than upon the parents; for it is he who by the marriage has both acquired rights and accepted duties toward their daughter. Included in these is the right, and duty, of burying her in the cemetery of the settlement in which he lives….

The close mourners, those tied with hide, include not only parents but husbands and wives. The loss of a spouse is equated with that of a child. The survivor is restrained from self-violence not only by the strip of hide tied around the wrist, but also by being made to grasp the smith’s tongs and, after the burial, to drink water sacralized by association with the Earth shrine.

Let us consider an actual example:

Namoo was living at a new settlement, some fifty miles to the south of Birifu, where he had taken his family a few years before. His wife was back visiting her natal house when she died very suddenly. A false message was sent to Namoo to say that his father’s surviving brother, Batero, had fallen from the rooftop of his house in Naayiili, and had died; it was assumed that a man would react less violently to the news of his paternal uncle’s death than to that of his wife. Namoo boarded a passing lorry and came at once. On reaching the outskirts of Birifu, he was met by a joking partner from another patrilineage of the same clan (that is, from the funeral group), who first of all seized his arms and then told him that it was his wife for whom the xylophones were playing. Namoo broke loose from the grasp of the joking partner and ran at full speed to his “father’s” compound, to which the body of his wife had been carried. There he was at once caught and restrained by other persons present at the funeral. For the LoDagaa declare that it is better for a man in such a state to be with the crowd rather than on his own lest he try to do himself some harm. Moreover, attendance at the ceremony has another, less explicit, effect on the bereaved. As the funeral continues, their grief is lessened by the performance-both by themselves and by others-of the various formalized procedures. Quite apart from the specific content of the rituals, their actual performance has a purging effect. The LoDagaa, however, take additional precautions against the bereaved, and when Namoo arrived at the scene of the funeral, he was seized for the second time, and into his hands were pressed the smith’s tongs.

Although both husbands and wives are tied with hide when a spouse dies, it is expected that greater intensity of grief will be displayed by the man than the woman, and it is he who will be most carefully supervised. Wives are the actual or potential means by which the continuity of the lineage is maintained. The death, particularly of a young wife, entails a total loss of the reproductive powers that the lineage has acquired; for there is no return of the bridewealth in the case of her death, nor is a substitute provided as in the institution of the sororate. If a man has proved himself to be a good son-in-law, his affines may formally point out another girl as his “wife,” but he will still have to hand over the full bridewealth if he wants to marry her. On the other hand, the death of a husband entails no comparable loss to the widow nor to her descent group. By the operation of the levirate she automatically has another husband to provide for her, another man’s house in which to live, another sexual partner. If she is not satisfied with any of the possible inheritors, she can always try to find a husband elsewhere.

The tying of a piece of white cloth around the wrist of the widower but not of the widow, apparently to mitigate the chafing of the hide, indicates that the LoDagaa expect a greater display of violent grief from the man than the woman. To explain this only in terms of the difference in physical strength is hardly satisfactory, since a man is not ordinarily expected to give vent to his grief to the same extent as a woman. Our alternative interpretation of the relationship between the modes of restraint and the differences in conjugal roles is supported by an examination of the rites of widowhood, the whitewashing and testing of the surviving spouse. These rites also emphasize an aspect of conjugal bereavement that we have already encountered in discussing the concept of “dirt,” namely the element of hostility that is visualized as an intrinsic feature of marital relationships. But here we need only make the point that these differences reflect an explicit social situation; for whereas by the death of a spouse a man loses the sexual services of his wife, the widow merely exchanges the services of one man for those of another….

The burial of the body terminates for the time being the phase of public mourning. but the mortuary ceremony continues for another three days. For three days after a man’s burial, only women may sleep at the house where the death occurred, the male bereaved and those who come

from afar being led away to sleep in another compound. Every morning and evening the women burst into loud lamentations. At night they lie down outside the house, and if it rains, they go inside the long room, although they speak of this as the byre and therefore maintain the fiction of not entering the house to sleep. In Tom, I was told that formerly men would sleep for four days at the house where a woman had died, but so far as I know this is not done nowadays.

In respect of the bathing and whitewashing of the surviving spouse, the treatment of men and women is markedly different. The imbalance of the conjugal relationship, already noted in connection with the modes of restraining the bereaved, is again brought out in the procedures taken to prevent the widow or widower from committing suicide that are an intrinsic part of the bathing rituals. As in the earlier instances, the measures taken against the suicide of the widower are considerably more severe than in the case of the widow.

…the bathing of the widower, a rite that takes place outside the deceased’s compound on the day following the burial. A matriclan joking partner from within the husband’s own patriclan brings a knife, an arrow, and three stones seen as belonging to the Earth shrine. …three such stones are also buried under the entrance to the byre of a new compound, and should anyone die there during the next three years, it is thought that the site in question is unwilling to accept the new residents and that they would be wise to move elsewhere. The metaphorical association of three stones and three years occurs again in the present instance; for if a widower tries to kill himself after being made to drink water in which the arrow, knife, and stones are placed. it is said that his wound will remain open for three years. When he gives the water to the husband, the joking partner makes a speech, of which the following is an example:

In the water you drink, can you see the arrow, the knife and the three stones?

With the knife, a person can kill himself. With the arrow, he can do the same.

But look at these stones. Today I give you both the knife and the Arrow.

If you are thinking of killing yourself, of cutting your throat

with the knife, you won’t be able to do it. If you take an arrow

and say you’ll wound yourself, the poison can’t kill you.

People would say that the Earth shrine wishes it so,

and others would think you knew something about your wife’s death.

So today we give you these things to cool your anger.

In time you’ll follow your wife; but she can never return to you.

If you wound yourself, you’ll be sick three years without dying;

and when you recover, you’ll have to make a payment to the Earth shrine.

…The measures taken against the widower are an aspect of the sanctions against suicide that exist in most social systems; however honorable a solution suicide may provide for the individual, from the society’s standpoint the practice must be held in check. Here it is visualized as a heinous sin against the Earth. But the speech bears on the problem of social control in yet another way. For by drinking the water in which the stones of the Earth shrine have been placed, the widower is in effect taking a silent oath that he has had nothing to do with his wife’s death. If he has been involved, the Earth shrine would allow him to commit suicide or perhaps bring about his death in another way.

[#3] “Restraining the Bereaved to Prevent Suicide,” from Jack Goody, Death, Property and the Ancestors. A Study of the Mortuary Customs of the LoDagaa of West Africa, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1962, pp. 86-88. 90-92, 94-96, 183-185.

Leave a Comment

Filed under African Traditional Sub-Saharan Cultures

DOGON

#2 The Souls of the Dogons
     (Solange de Ganay, 1937-39)

With men, this force [the nyama] depends on the kikinu sae, or the soul. Whereas the soul is individual and pursues its extra-human destiny after death, the nyama is the impersonal element, which, after separating itself from the body upon death, goes to another being (ordinarily a newborn) which it normally imbues. However, if it is a matter of a violent death, this migration provokes disorders which the living combat with the appropriate rites.

However, this rule does present some exceptions. Tile souls of certain deceased are essentially condemned to wander in the bush; they become evil beings, or dyabu, whose vital force cannot be perpetuated in a nani respondent. This involves either young people who have died as virgins or adults who have died in such a way that the relatives decide that the funeral rites, which would permit the soul of the deceased to consume the libations offered on the ancestral altars, should not be carried out. The soul is thus left to wander and cannot impart its dangerous nyama to a newborn. A dwarf, a suicide, or an epileptic, whose maladies are feared for being passed on to a nani respondent or even a family member, are part of this category of the excluded….

The souls of certain adults, who die in unusual circumstances, are condemned to wander eternally in the bush where they become a dangerous power, or dyabu. This invo1ves, among others, those whom the society intends to keep out by preventing the reincarnation of their nyama in one or more of its members; consequently, none of the customary rites which follow the funerals are executed, and the soul — which is not called to consume from the family altar — is thus excluded from the community.

Men who fall asleep in the proximity of stones called dummo kumogu, which bear a dangerous nyama, contract an illness, or dummo suga (lit: “stone falls”), hence their name of dummo sugone, “one who falls like a stone. When a man affected by this illness dies, there is neither a funeral nor a Dama, so that he will not have a nani (respondent) and that his soul will not be able to transfer the harmful nyama to any members of the family.

The same custom was once observed for a suicide. The dyabus are compared to the “bad wind” or to the “whirling wind” (onu simu). It is said that they “strike the men” and give them smallpox. Since these wandering souls are essentially dangerous because they are unsatisfied and incapable of joining the other souls in Manga, the society must protect itself against their harmful acts. The Dogon have built altars on which they offer sacrifices which are intended to protect them from the attacks of the dyabus. They also make use of amulets.

[#2] Dogon: “Suicide as Contagious: The Risk of Nyama,” from Solange de Ganay, Dogon Mottoes, HRAF; some footnotes interpolated; selection title and commentary from Germaine Dieterlen, The Souls of the Dogons, tr. Sherri L. Granka, HRAF (Paris 1941; New Haven, CT: 2000).

Leave a Comment

Filed under African Traditional Sub-Saharan Cultures

#1 African Origin Myths: Man Desires Death
    (Hans Abrahamsson)

It has several times been asserted that death enters into the world as a punishment because men have sinned against God, have been unwise or neglectful. In certain quarters, however, one meets with a totally different thought. Thus L. Frobenius adduces from the Kasai peoples Bena Lulua and Baqua Kabundu Kalambas a myth of the creation in which it is said that Fidi Mukullu created man in such a way that death belonged to his nature ever since the creation. It is then stated in the myth that “Without magic, diseases, knives, lances, war, and death, life would be just eating, drinking, sleeping, digestion. Without death, it is not good.” That death is as a matter of fact actually a good and useful factor in human existence is reflected in some myths concerning the origin of death which are here brought together under the heading “Man desires death…”

…An instance from the Hausa in Tunisia may perhaps not be reckoned as a myth concerning the origin of death in the strict sense of the term, since the myth tells us in the first place why human life is so short. It is so closely akin, at all events, to the myths concerning the origin of death, that it should be given a place in this section. According to the tradition, it was ‘Azrā’īl who “brought early death into the world.” The first people lived for hundreds of years. Thus one virgin had lived for five hundred years before she died. Moses one day found her anklets, which had been taken off before her death, and prayed to Allah that he might be allowed to see the owner. Allah made the woman rise up from the grave, but in the course of her conversation with Moses she bewailed the fact that she had been brought back to life. She had already lived for far too long and had become tired of life. Moses then prayed that Allah might let people die earlier, more especially as they had begun to become too numerous, “so Allah decreed that they should die after some sixty or seventy years, and told Azrael to see to this…”

 

Among the Dogon, there are…two categories of ancestors: those who lived before death had made its entry into the world of men, and who therefore were and are immortal, and those who lived after the entrance of death, and who were therefore mortal. From the Dogon S. Dieterlen and S. De Ganay communicate, inter alia, the following. When the Dogon lived in the land of Mandé, their ancestor grew so old and infirm that he could not even move when he needed to relieve his bowels or bladder. “Angry [honteux] over his condition, he begged the god Amma to make him die, and this was granted.” People did not know at that time what death was. When thitherto anyone had become old, he had been changed into a snake, and thereupon to the kind of spirit-being that is called Yéban. They believed that the old man was sleeping, and tried to wake him up, but were unsuccessful. When the body began to decompose, they placed it in a hole that they had dug in the earth. The name of the dead man was Lébé. When the Dogon afterwards left Mandé to move to Bandiagara, they resolved to take Lébé’s bones with them. When they opened the grave, they found a snake instead of his remains. The snake followed them on their journey, and was none other than their ancestor Lébé, who had been brought back to life in the form he would have assumed if death had not overthrown the world of men. From the grave they also took with them some earth, of which they made an altar, “which is the beginning of the cult of Lébé, an ancestor who was under a temporary death.” Every tribal group afterwards received a part of this altar, and created a new one in the region chosen by them. “In the course of time, the deaths multiplied, and men paid the souls of their ancestors the deeds which they demanded.”

Also among the Joruba we meet with the notion that men had at one time desired death. A very long time ago people did not die. Instead, they grew to an immense size; but when they became older they shrank, and became as little as children. They were then transformed into stones. “There were not so many old folk crawling around that people the people asked Olorun to free them from life. Olorun agreed, and so the very elderly died.”

According to a tradition among the Bamum, God had created men healthy and strong. He could therefore not understand that many of them suddenly became cold and stiff. One day he met Death, and asked him if it was he who caused this. Death declared that he would show God that the people themselves summoned him. God concealed himself behind a banana-hedge, and Death sat down by the wayside. First came an old, racked slave, who bewailed his lot and said: “Oh, the dead are well off! If only I had never been born!” He immediately fell down dead. The next to come that way was an old woman. She, too, complained about the troubles of life and fell lifeless to the ground. Death then said to God: “Do you see now that she has called for me?” God then went away grieved, since his creatures called upon Death.

Also among the Ngala, men wish to die out of weariness with life’s difficulties. Formerly, there were human beings in heaven. They did not die, nor do they die now. There were also people on earth, and they did not die either. But one day God asked the people on earth: “Would you like to live forever, or live well for awhile and then die?” And the people on earth answered: “We want to die because there are too many bad things in the world!” Since then, men are subject to death.

Among the Korongo, a Nuba tribe, we find over-population as the cause of man’s desire that death should come into the world. At one time, it is said, the country was thickly populated, and the number of inhabitants became constantly greater, for there was neither sickness nor death. “In high spirits, the people began to perform sham funerals, carrying a tree trunk in the funeral procession and burying it with full ceremonial.” But when God saw this, he became angry, and sent sickness and death to men as a punishment for their mockery. Many died. The others grew terrified and fled away to other places.

…the Nuer have a myth according to which God spoke with men and asked them whether they wanted to live for ever or die. The people said to God that the earth was growing full of people, and that it would be better that some should die and make room for those who came after them. And God answered: “Oh! All right!” In the continuation of the myth we are told that on the same day the dog had come to see to the cattle, and had then asked the people in the village whether God had spoken with them, and what he had said. They related what had taken place, and that God had thrown a stone into the river. When the dog was told where this had happened, it dived into the river and came up again with a little stone. “People are always restored by it.”

The Nyamwezi say that originally two people lived on the earth: a man, Kassangiro, and a woman, Mbaela. They got seven children, who intermarried and in their turn had children of their own. The man now wanted to prepare a medicine, so that all might live. But the woman was of another opinion, and said: “…it would be better if people died, because otherwise they wouldn’t be able to find wood or room in their fields. So then these two oldest people died.” The same notion of the origin of death occurs also in the “Zambezi region.” The information is given by R. Maugham, who describes the Ravi, Yao, Teve, Nyungwe, Nyanja, Lolo, Makua, Rgwe and Sena. It is therefore possible to refer his myth to the area around the lower Zambezi. Here people say that a long time ago death occurred only as a consequence of war, murder or attacks by wild animals. Human life was otherwise unlimited. Children grew up to become men and women and lived on without becoming either old or infirm. The consequence of this was such a rapid increase of the population that far-sighted persons in the community began to become uneasy at the prospect of a time when the resources of the earth could not possibly suffice for the needs of all. They therefore held a meeting, and decided that a change must be brought about that would set a limit to the length of human life. “To compass this, the only possible method was to petition the world of spirits so to order the destinies of mankind that, after a reasonable period of life on earth, the sons of men might qualify for admission to the celestial circle by the processes of bodily decay.”

[#1] “African Origin Myths: Man Desires Death,” from Hans Abrahamsson, The Origin of Death. Studies in African Mythology. Studia Ethnographica Upsaliensia III. Uppsala, Sweden: Almqvist & Wiksells Boktryckeri, 1951, pp. 73-77. German and French translated from the original

1 Comment

Filed under African Traditional Sub-Saharan Cultures

AFRICAN TRADITIONAL SUB-SAHARAN CULTURES
(documented 1853-present)

  1. African Origin Myths: Man Desires Death
    (Hans Abrahamsson)

Dogon:

  1. The Souls of the Dogons
    (documented by Solange de Ganay, 1937-39)

LoDagaa:

  1. Restraining the Bereaved to Prevent Suicide
    (documented by Jack Goody, 1962)

Akan:

  1. The Detection of Witches: Ordeal and Punishment

Ashanti:

  1. Law and Constitution: A Suicide’s Trial
    (documented by Capt. R. S. Rattray, 1929)
  2. Funeral Rites for Babies and Kings
    (documented by Capt. R. S. Rattray, 1929)
  3. The Price of Intrigue with Women of Royal Blood
    (documented by A. B. Ellis, 1887)

Fante:

  1. Killing Oneself “Upon the Head of Another”: The Tragedy of Adjuah Amissah
    (documented by Brodie Cruickshank, 1853)

Gã:

  1. The Prohibition of Death
    (documented by M. J. Field, 1937)

Ewe:

  1. The Criminality of Suicide
    (documented by A.B. Ellis, 1890)

Yoruba:

  1. The Kings of the Yoruba
    (documented by Samuel Johnson, 1897)
  2. Yoruba Laws and Customs: Suicide
    (documented by A. K. Ajisafe, 1924)

Igbo:

  1. Evil Spirits
    (documented by Northcote W. Thomas, 1913)
  2. Sacrifices, Death, and Burial
    (documented by G. T. Basden, 1938)
  3. A Murderer Must Hang Himself
  4. An Old Woman’s Prearranged Funeral
    (documented by G. T. Basden, 1921)

Zulu:

  1. The Timely Death
  2. Godusa: The Old Woman and the Antbear’s Hole
    (documented by R.C.A. Samuelson, 1929)
  3. Ukugodusa: The First Woman Who Became a Christian
    (documented by L. H. Samuelson, 1912)
  4. The Burial of a King
    (documented by R.C.A. Samuelson, 1929)

Banyoro:

  1. The Ghost of a Suicide
    (documented by John Roscoe, 1923)

Dinka:

  1. The Folktale of the Four Truths
  2. Burial Alive: The Master of the Fishing-Spear

 


A continent comprising a fifth of the world’s land area, once the central portion of earth’s landmass, Africa was the area of origin for homo sapiens, the modern human, some 130,000–200,000 years ago. Below the vast desert that has come to serve as a cultural divide between sub-Saharan Africa and the largely Arabic regions edging the Mediterranean to the north, the African terrain consists primarily of flat or lightly rolling plains, without a central mountainous core or a broad continental shelf, a continent marked primarily by gradual changes of altitude and a highly regular coastline, rich in mineral, plant, and animal resources.

Within sub-Saharan Africa, forms of social organization range from small nomadic bands of hunter-gatherer-forager peoples, to farming and cattle-herding cultures, to highly urbanized societies. Traditional cultures have been largely rural and agricultural, many with trading networks but largely without centralized governmental authorities; yet Africa has also seen the formation of vast empires, including the 10th-century empire of Ghana, the 14th-century empire of Mali, the 15th-century empire of Bunyoro, the Ashanti empire of the 18th and 19th centuries, the 19th-century empire of Buganda, and the 19th-century kingdom of the Zulu, among many others. Many traditional communities stress both kinship networks with a unilineal pattern of descent and age-graded associations, especially among males. Among many, dowries are paid from male to female (the “bridewealth”), procreation is emphasized, and polygyny is a traditional ideal. However, traditional African societies are extremely diverse, and generalization is not possible. Furthermore, geographic and cultural boundaries do not always coincide, and an overall picture of Africa and its many societies is necessarily complex.

The standard way of classifying traditional oral African societies is by language, though this process is complicated by patterns of migration and language spread and by issues concerning the distinction between language and dialect. Four major language families or phyla contain what Barbara Grimes estimates to be Africa’s approximately 2,000 distinct indigenous languages. Among these language families, the largest groups are the Niger-Congo (including Kordofanian and Bantu), spoken in western and south-central Africa, with some 1,436 languages; Nilo-Saharan, spoken in central and central-eastern interior regions (196 languages); the Khosian family of click languages, spoken in the southern interior (35 languages); and Afroasiatic, including Semitic, Egyptian, Berber, Cushitic, and other languages of the north (371 languages). Among Africa’s huge variety of languages, Hausa, a Chadic language of the Afroasiatic family, and Swahili, an eastern coastal Niger-Congo language of the Bantu subfamily, have played the roles of lingua franca for trade; so have a variety of other languages, including Arabic, Afrikaans, French, and English. Many of the selections presented here are from the Niger-Congo family, which includes languages spoken by the majority of sub-Saharan Africans.

Few of Africa’s traditional sub-Saharan societies have written literatures. However, most have substantial, longstanding oral traditions. Wherever possible, these selections attempt to present traditional African legends, myths, stories, and histories concerning suicide from the earliest documenters of each culture’s oral history. Many of these documents were written or compiled from other accounts by Western explorers and missionaries using native informants. Other documents, however, come from educated Africans who wrote in Western languages but could interview informants in their native tongues.

While it is impossible to generalize effectively over such a large range of cultures in a geographic region as large as Africa, some similarities, Robert Lystad argues, are evident among traditional African values: that human nature is neither good nor evil, but capable of error; that humans should adapt to nature and the universe, rather than seek to alter it; that property is to be shared; and that the solutions to human problems are to be sought in traditional legends and stories. The universe is understood as a unity, not a dualism of mind/body or matter/spirit; the Creator or creative power is distant, though lesser gods and local spirits may intervene in the affairs of humans. Particularly relevant to issues of suicide are the beliefs that there is life after death and that kinship networks include family members who have already died, as well as those who are still living.

Beginning in the late 15th century, European commercial, colonizing, and proselytizing interests began to penetrate sub-Saharan Africa. The Portuguese, British, French, Germans, Spanish, Italians, Dutch, and Belgians all established areas of colonial rule, variously exporting minerals, goods, and slaves. Taking advantage of certain traditional slaving practices, the European slave trade increased from about 275,000 between 1450–1600, to about 1.3 million during the 17th century, about 6 million during the 18th century, and ended, after another 2 million, in the latter half of the 19th century. Brazil, the Spanish Empire, the British West Indies, the French West Indies, and North America were all major importers of slaves; so was the Arab world. Altogether, an estimated 12 million left the African continent as slaves in the European trade; an estimated 10–20% died during the Middle Passage.

The sources provided here largely postdate the era of enslavement and the slave trade, but that era and its consequences were hardly forgotten: As Brodie Cruickshank had commented in 1853 on the comparatively few European forts that remained after the end of the slave trade in the Gold Coast, “. . . there is something exceedingly horrible in the contemplation of the nations of Europe thus clinging to Africa like leeches and sucking her very life-blood, and to find her now almost neglected and forsaken when she is no longer permitted to be their prey.”

As with other oral cultures, accounts of myths, histories, and practices by outsiders, invaders, missionaries, and exploiters may well be influenced by the cultural ideologies of the reporters—in Africa, primarily Christianity and Islam—but they nevertheless offer the closest insight into traditional African culture and its views. A particularly vivid example of the tensions between direct access to traditional cultural material and Westernizing influences is to be found in the accounts of the Yoruba by Rev. Samuel Johnson (c. 1845–1901) (selection #11), one of the earliest and most prolific writers on African history. Johnson was himself a great-grandson of the Alafin Abiodun, the famous king of the Oyo Empire in the late 18th century, but was also a committed Christian, educated in Greek, Latin, mathematics, and Western philosophy and religious studies. A diplomat, missionary, and peacemaker in the disputes among Yoruba groups, as well as between the British and the Oyo, Johnson spoke African languages and was able to interview the traditional arokin, or court historians, in compiling his immense and authoritative History of the Yoruba; yet he reinterpreted Yoruba history as exhibiting its development toward the ultimate end of becoming Christianized. Johnson eventually became an Anglican priest, hoping “. . . above all that Christianity should be the principal religion in the land—paganism and Mohammedanism having had their full trial—[and that this] should be the wish and prayer of every true son of Yoruba.” Such overlays of personal commitment and worldview affect virtually all of the early published accounts of African belief and practice, which are then sometimes taken as sources for later traditions or held to “confirm” the work of later scholars. Yet at the same time, modern scholars like Kwame Gyekye insist that the difficulty of getting at indigenous ideas is not insuperable: he notes that in Akan, as in every African community, there are a few older individuals regarded as wise and steeped in traditional lore, who are able to distinguish between traditional philosophical conceptions and those of Christianity and Islam. Indigenous thinking may sometimes be formulated in Christian or Islamic religious language, but it often survives in comparatively untouched form.

Further risks in the use of early ethnographic sources include the overlay of unconfirmed theories of indigenous belief and practice. In perhaps the best-known example of apparent overinterpretation, it was reported as late as 1910 that the Shilluk (or Chollo), a culture of Nilo-Saharan speakers in southern Sudan closely related to the Dinka presented here, customarily strangled their kings when they grew old or ill in order to save the divinity within, a report that Sir James George Frazer developed in The Golden Bough (1911–15) into the centerpiece of his influential theory of African regicide. However, the practice of ceremonial regicide and the theory Frazer constructed were never reliably confirmed, and despite later modifications by Evans-Pritchard in 1948 and David Cohen in 1972, the claim that the disappearance of the Shilluk kings was the product of regicide or “royal suicide” has not been substantiated. Nevertheless, similar claims are represented here in Dr. Samuel Johnson’s account of required suicide for despotic kings among the Yoruba (selection #11), and in the accounts of live burial by the Dinka of their chieftain, the Master of the Fishing-Spear (selection #23). In such cases, it is impossible to say what was in fact the case in the earlier periods of African civilization, or to determine whether the African kingship was an archaic magical system or a political, bureaucratic, and military institution, but the stories and legends that have been transmitted and collected have played a major role in conveying many forms of African thought. Similar difficulties in interpretation affect virtually all of the ethnographic material for every early culture presented in this volume. Yet despite their biases, the early reporters remain perhaps the most direct source of insight into the issues about suicide and voluntary death under scrutiny here.

The Selections

The selections are ordered geographically and by language-group in roughly counterclockwise fashion,  beginning with the northern areas of West Africa, moving down around heavily populated regions of the Niger delta, then south and east to the region of the Zulu, and finally northeast to the Bantu in what is now northern Zimbabwe, the Ganda in Uganda [check], and the Dinka in the Nile basin of the Sudan.  Sources from written traditions in North Africa and the Nile and Horn region are entered separately in this volume.  Most sources in this section come from West Africa, the region of subSaharan Africa most populated and most fully documented by early ethnographers.

Selection #1, “African Origin Myths”, casts a broad sweep over a wide range of African origin myths serving to account for the occurrence of death, from the Islamic cultures of the Hausa to the traditional Benue-Congo cultures of  the lower Zambesi. Despite the considerable variety of these myths, what is significant is that in many of them  death has come into being because man needs it, requires it, or desires it.

The Voltaic Branch of the Niger-Congo Subfamily
Selection #2, “The Souls of the Dogons,” is drawn from the accounts of the Griaule ethnographic expeditions during 1931-39 to the Dogon, a group whose language is of the Voltaic branch of the Niger-Congo language family and who now live in the remote and rugged area of the Bandiagara escarpment and the Niger bend in southwest Mali. In part because of their isolation, the Dogon have been less affected by colonialism than many other African groups and have been able to maintain many of their precolonial cultural traditions.  Ancestor-worship is an important component of Dogon religion, and the Dogon are famed for their religious masks.  In this selection from Dogon mottoes, a distinction is drawn between the individual soul that may survive in a life after death and the nyama or impersonal life-force, or vital principle, that would ordinarily be transmitted from the dead person to a specific newborn relative. The selection describes the negative implications of suicide for this process.

Also from a Voltaic-speaking group is Jack Goody’s contemporary account of the LoDagaa (selection #3), inhabitants of two settlements in the northwest corner of Ghana near the Black Volta River, who speak dialects of Dagari, a Mossi language. Although they have no centralized political system, the LoDagaa have highly developed funeral customs, including an elaborate set of suicide precautions for bereaved family members, reflecting assumptions about the likelihood, expectedness, and desirability of suicide after the death of a spouse or close family member.

The Kwa branch of the Niger-Congo Subfamily
Moving to the south, selections #4 through #10 are drawn from various groups of Akan, a broad constellation of separate ethnic groups who speak Twi, a language of the Kwa branch of the Niger-Congo linguistic subgroup. According to archeological and linguistic evidence, the Akan have inhabited a heartland in south central Ghana for some 2000 years. Akan groups include the Akan proper, the Ashanti (or Asante), the Fante (or Fanti or Fantee), and the Ga, members of which groups are now living in Ghana (called the Gold Coast in colonial times; now named after the Ga), Côte d’Ivoire, and Togo. Traditional Akan societies, largely agricultural, consist in some seven or eight matrilineal clans, and inheritance, kinship, and succession are all descended through the mother’s line, although some offices and spiritual attributes are inherited patrilineally. After Portuguese traders and colonizers reached the coast of Ghana in the late 15th century, some Akan groups began to trade gold and slaves for European products, including guns.  Beginning in about 1700, the Asante established the most powerful Akan state, dominating the region now known as Ghana until conquered by the British in 1900; this empire, said to be one of the “largest and most sophisticated imperial systems ever constructed without the aid of literary skills,” was particularly known for its sumptuous artistic culture. However, in contrast to many other Akan, the Ga, who inhabited the coast, were patrilineal, though females could inherit property from their mothers; the men fished and raised crops while the women conducted trade.  On one account, the Gã king, Okai Koi, committed suicide in 1660 after another Akan people, the Akwamu, defeated the Ga; on another, he was killed in battle in 1677. The Ga are now among the most urbanized of West African peoples.

Several of the Akan selections presented here describe  the effects of contact  with European colonizers on these traditional groups. Selection #4, from the Akan proper, “The Detection of Witches: Ordeal and Punishment,” alludes to the British colonial government’s efforts to suppress the execution  of alleged witches and the practice of coerced suicide thus generated. From the Ashanti, selection #5,  “Law and Constitution: A Suicide’s Trial,” taken from Capt. Rattray’s monumental attempt to trace the development of Ashanti legal, political, and judicial institutions from their origin in the simple family group under a house-father to their functions in a colonial system under a paramount chief, describes traditional Ashanti (and, more generally, Akan) beliefs and legal principles concerning suicide,  comparing them to European views.  In this selection as well as in selection #6, among others, traditional practices  are seen in contrast to the legal systems administered by Europeans—for example, while  among the Namnan, a small Northern Territory Ashanti tribe, a suicide’s property was to be confiscated by the Chief, much as the British suicide’s property was forfeit to the King, some of his property in livestock might nevertheless remain to the wife and children, and dead bodies are subjected to trial and punishment (selection #5).

The contemporary philosopher Kwasi Wiredu explains these practices  as rooted in the absolute principle of Akan justice that  “no human being could be punished without a trial. Neither at the lineage level nor at any other level of Akan society could a citizen be subjected to any sort of sanctions without proof of wrongdoing.” Wiredu  also points to the importance of the belief that the life-principle is immortal. “Death is preferable to disgrace” runs a characteristic Akan saying; Wiredu notes that defeated generals, taking this to heart, often chose to commit suicide in the field. 

Selection #6, on Ashanti funeral rites, is also taken from Capt. Rattray’s accounts. Drawing on earlier reports and elderly informants, Rattray  first describes the complete absence of  funeral rites for stillborns, neonates, and children who die—no ceremony  at all, and the corpse is merely tossed into the bush—and then the contrastingly  lavish funerals for kings, replete with both voluntary and nonvoluntary deaths of the newly deceased king’s wives, retainers, and captives in order to mark the funeral and continue to serve the king in the afterlife. Whether institutional suicide of those in subordinate social roles  is to be regarded as suicide in any robust sense, or merely conformity to strong social expectation, is an issue in many traditional cultures, both in Africa and elsewhere.

Selection #8, on socially-expected suicide, describes what contemporary suicidologists might call the “get-even” practice  called  killing oneself “upon the head of another”: by committing suicide, one person can visit the same calamity on another  person.  In Fante culture (as in many  others, for example the Tlingit of Alaska), social responsibility for suicide is assigned to an outside party, not to the person who kills himself.  Suicide  thus makes it possible to control the behavior of other parties.  A particularly vivid example is described in the tragedy of Adjuah Amissah, a beautiful young Fante woman from a town on what is now the coast of Ghana, whose sad story comes from the earliest selections in these accounts.  The tale has evidently undergone evolution in its telling: Cruickshank’s account holds that she killed herself with a silver bullet, while Edward Bowdich’s version refers to golden bullets.  The central point remains unchanged, however: Adjuah Amissah’s suicide is attributed to her wish to save her family.  In accord with Ashanti law, her family would be held responsible for the suicide of her suitor and, in effect, must pay in kind; Adjuah Amissah’s own suicide protects them from this penalty.

Selection #9, “The Prohibition of Death,” concerning the Ga people,  raises issues about what counts as suicide.  The traditional beliefs of the Ga about certain types of deaths do not appear to conceptualize them as suicide, but nevertheless do hold people accountable for dying at times or in ways that are impermissible; these beliefs  thus seem to suggest that such deaths are after all in some sense voluntary.

The groups from which selections #10 through #16 arise, the Ewe, the Yoruba, and the Ibo, are also members of the Kwa branch of Niger-Congo and also inhabit areas of West Africa surrounding the Niger River drainage basin—Ghana, Togo, Benin, Nigeria—heavily vegetated areas with high temperature levels, heavy rainfall, and frequent thunderstorms, where population density is high.

The traditional Ewe heartland is southern Togo; the group’s oral traditions tell of its flight from a brutal 17th-century tyrant, King Agokoli of Notsé, perhaps giving rise to its distrust of strong central authority. The absence of a strong central state left the Ewe particularly vulnerable to slave-raiding during the 17th-19th centuries. Selection #10, a British major’s 1890 account of the Ewe-speaking peoples of the coast of West Africa, briefly describes practices in Dahomey, now Benin, in punishing suicides. Striking in this brief account  is the apparent appropriation of European notions—“every man is the property of the king” and exposure  of a suicide’s body to public ridicule, reminiscent of European practices of desecration of the body—coupled with traditional African practices regarding suicide, in particular decapitation.

The Yoruba, in contrast, were highly urbanized before colonial times and formed powerful city-states centered around the royal residence of the oba, or king.  Linguistic and archeological evidence suggests that speakers of a distinct Yoruba language emerged some 3000-4000 years ago in the area around the Niger-Benue confluence in what is now Nigeria.  Patrilineal in descent patterns, Yoruba men farmed and practiced crafts; women dominated marketing and trade. The 13th and 14th-century Yoruba bronzes and terracotta sculptures, as well as an oral literature of histories, folklore, and proverbs, mark the richness of Yoruba culture. Traditional Yoruba religion recognizes a supreme but remote creator-god with a pantheon of lesser deities more directly involved in human affairs.  Internal wars among Yoruba groups and city-states in the 19th century left the Yoruba vulnerable to slavery; exported with Yoruba slaves, Yoruba religion still forms the basis of Santería as practiced in modern Cuba, Trinidad, and Brazil, and homes practicing forms of Santería such as Ocha (“the religion”) may still contain shrines to Catholic saints and at the same time shrines to ancestral African dead. After the British gained control of Yorubaland in the late 19th century, the formerly strong Yoruba kings lost their sovereignty but were permitted to continue to play a role in local government.

Also belonging to the Kwa branch of the Niger-Congo linguistic family, the Igbo (formerly Ibo) have lived for thousands of years in a heartland around the lower Niger River. Unlike the Yoruba, they did not develop centralized state authorities or monarchies, but lived in autonomous, relatively democratic villages each of which was knit together by overlapping kinship ties, secret societies, professional organizations, and religious cults and oracles.  By the late 17th century, many Igbo had become slave traders who sold members of other ethnic groups as well as other Igbo captured in the interior; the British outlawed the slave trade with the Abolition Act of 1807, attempting to substitute for it trade in palm oil. However, the decentralization and openness of Igbo culture seemed to invite missionaries, and most Igbo are now Christian. An ill-fated attempt in 1967 to establish an Igbo state, Biafra, resulted in massive starvation among the Igbo before the state was reabsorbed by Nigeria in 1970.

The lengthy Yoruba selection (#11) from Samuel Johnson’s History of the Yorubas,  completed in 1897, reflects the historical centrality of the king in Yoruba society, and, consequently, the social importance of the king’s lineage  and succession, the king’s immediate  family, and the king’s funeral rites, as well as the forms of recourse available should a king prove  despotic.   Samuel Johnson’s king-histories from Sango onwards  depict many  kings as suicides, including Sango himself.  Family is important but can be too important: in Yoruba tradition, the king’s natural mother is expected to commit suicide, to be replaced by a surrogate drawn from the court.  An interlude concerning beliefs about birth and death suggests that the Yoruba hold that some children about to be born are in fact abiku or evil spirits:  they enter the world only temporarily and then leave it at a preappointed date: though parents may attempt to dissuade them from doing so. This voluntaristic explanation of repeated failures of pregnancy is offered in a culture in which reproduction is held to be of paramount importance:  it is not so much the mother who is blamed, but the child itself if it dies.  In Bascom’s account, the abiku is granted short spans of life by Olorun “because it does not want to remain long on earth, preferring  life in heaven or wishing only to travel back and forth between heaven and earth”—a phenomenon believed to be common where infant mortality is high.  Funeral customs concerning the king are of central cultural importance:  much as in a number of other traditional cultures in Africa, South America, Egypt, China, and elsewhere, the Yoruba considered it a privilege or an obligation  to accompany the king into the afterlife, and accounts of early customs involve both voluntary and nonvoluntary  deaths by wives, retainers, and others for this purpose.  Distinctive here is the practice of “wearing the death cloth,” a much-cherished cloth received by  those who will be expected to die with the king—the crown prince, certain other members of the royal family and some of the king’s wives–a cloth worn on special occasions that  marks them for this eventual honor.  Although such accounts may be challenged as exaggerated and unreliable,  as was Sir James Frazer’s theory of regicide among the Shilluk, they nevertheless appear consistent with traditional beliefs about life, death, and the afterlife. Finally, according to Johnson, whose very early accounts are based on oral histories and on his interviews with tribal elders, Yoruba practice involves expecting a despotic king or one otherwise unable to govern wisely to commit suicide when he loses the confidence of the people. An ill or despotic king is not to be killed by others, but, when the populace so indicates, is expected to die by his own hand.  Less colorful than Johnson’s narrations,  A.K. Ajisafe’s brief account (selection #12), concluding the Yoruba section,  recounts practices he described in 1906 which reflect the ways in which historical attitudes toward suicide were reflected in everyday practice.

Selections #13-#16, concerning the Igbo, conclude  the material  from the Kwa linguistic branch.  In selection #13, a brief passage describes an evil spirit, the akalagoli, who after committing suicide continues to harm those who are still living; selections #14 and #15 describe  rituals associated with suicide and the imposition of required suicide as a penalty for homicide.  Selection #16 is particularly vivid in its description of cooperation in one’s own death for practical reasons:  advance planning for a death that will be carried out underscores the importance of a suitable funeral for continuity after death.

The Zulu, who are believed to have migrated into southern Africa sometime after the second century A.D., speak a Bantu tongue  (Bantu is the best-known subgroup of Niger-Congo, spoken in much of the southern third of Africa) that developed as a distinct language well before the Zulu achieved a collective identity or centralized political structure, which did not emerge until intergroup conflict  arose among Nguni groups over grazing lands and ivory sources in the late 18th century.  Under the leadership of the brilliant strategist Shaka, who became clan chief in 1815 and who introduced such military innovations as the short stabbing spear, the Zulu established a huge kingdom, the size of contemporary Natal Province, within a single decade. They did not become subject to colonial rule until 1883, when the British invaded, and Zulu nationalism has remained a potent force in contemporary South African politics.

Selection #17 describes traditional Zulu attitudes towards timely and untimely death, providing the background for understanding the custom of godusa, “sending home,” (also goduka, ukugodusa, root meaning to go away; go home; die).  The term denotes the practice of killing or assisting in the suicide of an old person, or may refer to a ceremonial feast of farewell to an old relative before assisting in his death. Although the practice was opposed by the colonial authorities and missionaries at the time of the accounts provided here, the two selections display the differing overlays of different observers. The two selections, #18 and #19, are reported by the daughter and one of the two sons of the Rev. S. M. Samuelson (d. 1916), who went to Natal in 1851 as a missionary,  yet are strikingly different:  R.C.A. (Robert Charles Azariah) Samuelson (b. 1858), the son, narrates the story of the old woman and the antbear’s hole  (selection #19), an event that apparently took place in 1869-1870, describing  the practice as one that is acquiesced in, indeed accepted, by the old woman who is its target; she is described as consenting to burial alive and the practice  is said to be understood by the Zulu as humane.  At the same time, his elder sister, L.H. (Levine Henrietta, known as Nomleti) Samuelson (b. 1856), exhibits in selection #19 much more clearly the  repugnance felt by many missionary reporters for the practice of senicide: she sees the old woman’s death as cruel, the culmination of many years of threat with no humane intent.  Selection #20 describes traditional customs surrounding the burial of a Zulu king, involving, as is reported from many other early cultures around the world, the burial of live or newly killed wives and servants to accompany him.

Selection #21 is from the Banyoro, also Bantu-speakers whose language is Runyoro-Rutooro, live in the area of western Uganda to the immediate east of Lake Albert. The Bunyoro has been particularly concerned to uphold the ancient cultural traditions of their ancestors.  This selection describes fears of ghosts—including the ghosts of suicides.

Selections #22 and #23 are from the Dinka, a cattle-herding group who live in the broad savannahs of the central Nile basin in the Sudan and move from dry-season river camps to permanent settlements in the rainy season; they are closely related to the Shilluk. Cattle of are central importance in Dinka culture, and are central in the suicide-related ceremonies described. Selection #22 is a traditional Dinka folktale, “The Four Truths,” in which a threat of suicide not only shows its force in altering the situation, but exhibits the prospective suicide’s own perception of his very modest replacement value as the 6th son, and recognizes himself as a far less valuable member of society than his adult uncle.  Selection #23 describes the practice of burial alive, with full ceremonial honors, accorded the clan chieftain, the “Master of the Fishing-Spear.” Dinka belief holds that the Master of the Fishing-Spear “carries the life of his people,” and that if he dies like ordinary men—involuntarily—the life of his people, which is in his keeping, will be gone with him. In contrast, burial alive, normally at the Master of the Fishing-Spear’s own request, assures the people of their own vitality and success in war. If the Master of the Fishing-Spear were to die an accidental death or death from illness, it could have serious consequences for the whole tribe. The practice of burying the Master of the Fishing-Spear alive is believed to prevent illness among the people; as one Master of the Fishing-Spear is reported to have explained, “I am going to see (deal with) in the earth the Powers of sickness which kill people and cattle,” as well as to settle a family dispute; after three months, the old men of the tribe reported, there was no more cattle-plague. In another famous case in Western Dinkaland, a renowned Master of the Fishing-Spear was reported to have “entered the grave clutching in his hand a tsetse fly, and thereby removed the scourge of tsetse from his people.” Burial alive is reported by various anthropologists, including Charles G. and Brenda Seligman in their expedition to the Sudan 1909-1912, and Lienhardt 1947-1950, though in both cases informants are describing earlier practices not documented directly. Dinka sources also describe the interference by government officials in attempting to suppress such practices and the various sorts of subterfuge the Dinka used in order to persuade the authorities that burial alive was no longer being practiced.

Suicide and attempted suicide were not uncommon among Africans captured and transported in the slave trade.  Accounts of numbers of suicides are reported by some ship captains and slave owners or traders, but wholly without interest in the ethical issues such acts might have raised for the slaves themselves.  A more compelling account of suicides among slaves under transport is to be found in the work of Olaudah Equiano [q.v.], an Igbo born in Nigeria and transported to Virginia. He was later freed; traveled widely, was eventually resident in London.  Equiano published what became an influential factor in Britain’s abolition of the slave trade, The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African, Written by Himself  (1789); this work contains accounts of slaves’ suicides at sea and their belief that it would enable them to return home to their homelands.

Additional sources:

  1. Account of traditional African values in introductory section from Robert A. Lystad, Encyclopedia Americana, 1998, vol 1, p. 298;
  2. of languages, estimate from Barbara F. Grimes, ed., Ethnologue: Languages of the World. 13th ed.  Dallas: Summer Institute of Linguistics and the University of Texas at Austin, 1996;
  3. see also Bernd Heine and Derek Nurse, eds., African Languages: An Introduction, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000, p. 1;
  4. concerning slavery, Brodie Cruickshank, Eighteen Years on the Gold Coast of Africa.  London: Hurst and Blackett, 1853; reprint, London, Frank Cass, 1966, vol. 2, p. 27 [check: vol 2?];
  5. concerning methodological problems, Kwame Gyekye, An Essay on African Philosophical Thought: The Akan Conceptual Scheme, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987, pp. 53-54;
  6. quotation concerning the Asante empire, from Roland Oliver and Anthony Atmore, Medieval Africa 1250-1800, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001, p. 78;
  7. quotation from Samuel Johnson, from Toyin Falola, “Ade Ajayi on Samuel Johnson: filling the gaps,” chapter 7 in Toyin Falola, ed., African Historiography: Essays in honour of Jacob Ade Ajayi, Harlow, Essex: Longman, 1993,  p. 86.
  8. Concerning the Ashanti, also see “Public and Private Offenses,” in K. A. Busia, The Position of the Chief in the Modern Political System of the Ashanti.  London: Published for the International African Institute by Oxford University Press, 1951, pp. 65-71.
  9. Concerning the Fante story of Adjuah Amissah, see also “Expected Suicide: ‘Killing Oneself on the Head of Another,'” from A. B. Ellis [Alfred Burdon Ellis, 1852-1894], The Tshi-Speaking Peoples of the Gold Coast of West Africa; their religion, manners, customs, laws, language, etc.  London: Chapman and Hall, 1887, reprint Chicago: Benin Press, Ltd., 1964, pp. 287, 302-303;  and T. Edward Bowdich, Mission from Cape Coast Castle to Ashantee,  London: John Murray, 1819, reprint London:  Frank Cass, 1966, ftn. p. 259.
  10. Quotation in introductory passage concern Yoruba abiku in repeated pregnancy failure from William Bascom, The Yoruba of Southwestern Nigeria, New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1969, pp. 74.
  11. Also see S. O. Biobaku, Sources of Yoruba History, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973, p. 5.
  12. Account of Frazer’s theory of regicide and its critics from Benjamin C. Ray, Myth, Ritual and Kingship in Buganda, New  York: Oxford University Press, 1991, p. 10 et passim;
  13. quotation on Akan principles of justice from Kwasi Wiredu, Cultural Universals and Particulars: An African Perspective,  Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1996, pp. 164-165.
  14. Jocelyn Murray, Cultural Atlas of  Africa. New York: Equinox, 1981-1982;
  15. James George Frazer, The Golden Bough.  A Study in Magic and Religion, New York: Macmillan, 1922.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Africa, African Traditional Sub-Saharan Cultures, African Traditional Sub-Saharan Cultures, Indigenous Cultures, The Early Modern Period, The Modern Era

GREENLAND ESKIMO

#17 The Old Woman and the Cliff
     (Fridtjof Nansen, 1893)

The conceptions of good and evil in this world are exceedingly divergent. As an example, let me cite the case of the Eskimo girl who, when Niels Egede spoke to her of love of God and her neighbor, said to him: “I have given proof of love for my neighbor. Once an old woman who was ill, but could not die, offered to pay me if I would lead her to the top of the steep cliff from which our people have always thrown themselves when they are tired of living; but I, having ever loved my neighbors, led her thither without payment, and cast her over the cliff.” Egede told her that this was ill done, and that she had killed a fellow-creature. “She said no; but that she was filled with pity for her, and cried after she had fallen over.”Are we to call this a good or an evil deed?

[#17] Fridtjof Nansen, Eskimo Life, tr. William Archer (London: Longmans, Green, 1893): 170.

Additional Sources

Fridtjof Nansen, In Northern Mists. 2 v. New York: Frederick A. Stokes. 1911; Tryggvy J. Oleson, Early Voyages and Northern Approaches, 1000-1632. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart. 1963; Edward F. Foulks, The Arctic Hysterias of the North Alaskan Eskimo, Anthropological Studies No. 10, Washington, D.C.: American Anthropological Association, 1972; Wendell H. Oswalt, Eskimos and Explorers, Novato, California: Chandler & Sharp, 1979.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Arctic Cultures

LABRADOR ESKIMO

#16 Respect for the Aged
     (Ernest W. Hawkes, 1914)

The aged are treated with great respect, and the word of the old men and women is final. The Eskimo say that they have lived a long time and understand things in general better. They also feel that in the aged is embodied the wisdom of their ancestors. This does not prevent them, however, from putting the old folks out of the way, when life has become a burden to them, but the act is usually done in accordance with the wishes of the persons concerned and is thought to be a proof of devotion…

[#16] E. W. Hawkes, The Labrador Eskimo (Canada Department of Mines, Geological Survey, Memoir 91, Ottawa: Government Printing Bureau, 1916): 117-18, 136-37.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Arctic Cultures

ESKIMO OF BAFFIN ISLAND

#15 Tribal Life
     (Julian Bilby, 1923)

 …now the time has come to get ready for a very big annual enterprise indeed—the great deer hunt, upon which the fortunes of the tribe will turn for months. If the Eskimo lay up little store of food, they accumulate all the hides they can for winter clothing. For several weeks before the start is made, stores of meat are prepared, slices of seal cut and spread on the rocks, or hung on lines in the sun to dry. Plies of moss and cotton plant are collected and dried for the winter’s supply of lamp wick. Sealskins are cleaned and stretched and dried for clothing, boot soles, boat coverings, and water buckets; intestines are inflated and dried for sail cloth and material for making windows. The dogs are outfitted with sealskin panniers for transport purposes. The trek ahead of the tribe is a long and laborious one. They will journey for days by water up the rivers, and climb long ranges of hills and cross many valleys, before they reach the interior and the pastures of the deer. Each man, woman and child must shoulder his own pack, for none can carry a double load. And so, it often chances, comes the tragedy of old and enfeebled age.

Seorapik was an octogenarian. Her hair was grey and her back was bent. She had managed, somehow, the previous year to carry her belongings on the long, long trail, and stumble along after the tribe. But at last the bitter fact forced itself upon her that she could follow the hunters no more. She must stay behind—alone. She could no longer carry her load nor keep pace with the folk on the way, and none might carry her. She had alternative but to remain in the deserted village and await the tribe’s return.

Now Seorapik, like every other Eskimo, was an intensely sociable being. She loved nothing so much as to hear laughter and jokes about her, and to be in the thick of all the village talk and doings. As she faced the prospect of the long lonely weeks ahead, in the lifeless silence of the empty camp, with the days growing ever shorter and colder, without a soul—except perhaps a child—to bear her company, her heart quailed and grew very heavy. There was the danger, too, of attack by wolf or bear, and of sickness coming on—and death. Death, all alone! True, they would leave her a plentiful store of food—the good village folk—and lots of skins; but what comfort could these afford her in their absence?

But the law of the North is stern and immutable. They knew it—those sons and daughters of hers, and all their sons daughters. They grieved for Seorapik, and remember her many acts of kindness to each and every one of them, and her life of cheery toil spent wholly in their service. They had a custom to be sure—but it was hard to endure it when it came face to face. A familiar custom, designed to meet such as case as this; but a heartbreaking one, all the same. Seorapik remembered it, too, and was the first to summon the courage to announce it.

She proposed to bid the tribe goodbye rather than let it take leave of her. Her time to go on the long, lone journey from which none ever returned could not be far off in any case. She decided to anticipate it. She could not face seeing her folk load up the packs, start out on the trail, without her, and disappear over the hills. She could not contemplate the intense loneliness that it would all mean, and miss the laughter of the children, and even the rough and tumble among the dogs. So the dread subject was broached to her son.

He gave his assent. Itteapik announced the decision to the villagers, and they came to help with the preparations for Seorapik’s death.

A rough, round igloo was built, and the old woman withdrew into it, taking her few belongings, escorted by all her kindred and friends. They encouraged her to the last with every kindly and sympathetic thing they could think of to say. She braved it out, and, with her cheery but quavering goodbye still in their ears, her loved ones blocked up the entrance to the little death chamber in such a way that no dog or wolf might break in.

And there she sat down slowly and willingly to starve to death, quite happy so long as her children continued to come from time to time and call to her from outside, and tell her all that was going on, every single little thing that happened… She never asked for food or drink; they never gave it… She never wanted to come out; they never moved a stone… She simple had to go. Their part was to make her last days, her last hours, as happy as they could, simply by being there—quite close—outside.

Then the time came when the feeble voice just ceased to make one more response. She had gone on her own long journey first, to the land where parting would be no more, nor the fear and sadness of it. Her last hour had been happy ones, cheered by the sounds of the village life, the cries and gurgles of the babies, the shouts and cat-calls of the boys and girls, the murmur of men and women talking over their accustomed tasks. She had no loneliness to bear, after all, no desolation, no silence. The old Eskimo died with a smile of love and contentment on her face, with a long record behind her of woman’s good and motherly work, of a humble, “primitive” life indeed, but lived according to what light she had—and so into the better life beyond.

There was Nandla (the spear), too, the blind hunter, who also went to death under the lash of arctic circumstance. The incident took place nearDavis’ Strait, and was related to the writer by one who had witnessed it. Again, the inexorable law of the wild left one handicapped as Nandla was no choice. The man was comparatively young, but by reason of his blindness useless to himself and a burden upon others. In a hungry land, where every extra mouth to be filled represents a problem, there is no room for one who cannot provide for himself. The severity of the code of the North is very great. It cannot be judged by the ordinary standards of humanity.

Spring was at hand—the joyous spring of the arctics. The days were lengthening and the seals increasing in numbers. They were coming up from the south for the breeding season. In the village all was life and bustle. The hunters were full of preparations, and the dogs scarcely less so. The boys were loading the sleds and harnessing the teams. One by one, each hunting outfit glided off over the frozen ground, out towards the bay.

Outside his snow house sat Nandla, the blind hunter, listening to every sound and seeing every detail in his mind’s eye. His heart was heavy as lead. In his younger days he, too, had gone forth just like these others, to spear the season’s catch, and come home rejoicing with a heavy sled. But repeated attacks of snow blindness (despite his wooden snow goggles) had destroyed his sight; and here he was, in early middle age, a useless hopeless, helpless man, tied to the house, dependent upon his folk for food and clothing, and a drag upon them all.

Each night, as the hunters came home, the whole tribe gathered as usual round the cooking pots, when the excitements and doing of the day would be discussed with no less gusto than the food. Nandla always had his place in the family circle, and eagerly drank in every word the hunter had to say. He longed to hunt again, himself; to bring back the kill, to see the children come pushing into his house for their share, and to bid his wife give generously to the aged and the destitute! In his mind he pictured it all: the village nestling in the bay, huge, snow-clad cliffs rearing up at the back of it, and overhead the pure blue of the bright sky, where the glaucus gulls wheeled and cried. He pictured the scavenger ravens perched about everywhere, on the look-out for bits; the vast expanse of the frozen bay, glaring white in the cold sunlight; and beyond, a heavy black mist smoking up in the wind, marking the water line. Out there were the hunters—mere dots—moving about in the still immensity.

And here was he—Nandla—idle and useless, unable to occupy himself even with such tasks as fell to the ancients of the tribe—the repairing of lines, harness, and weapons. He could not patch up a snow house any more, or trim a lamp! Often, during the months of severe weather and of scarcity his relations had been hard pushed to find the wherewithal to feed him or clothe him. Nandla was very wretched.

At length, one evening, after just such a bad spell of weather and of luck, Nandla begged to be taken out on to the hunting grounds. Now, his relatives had been thinking things over rather grimly, and had seen nothing ahead for him but long years of misery and possibly of want. The problem suggested but one solution. It was simple enough. This request of the blind man’s to be equipped once more for the hunt and taken along with the rest, gave them their opportunity. They fell in with his desire and made their plan. They knew of a certain rout where danger lay. Nandla should be taken that way.

It was neither treachery nor murder they planned, but an end for the afflicted man of his anxieties and griefs. Nandla set out that morning full of delight. His heart was full of unwonted excitement. He yelled to the dogs and bumped and glided over the ice on the sled with a long missed sense of exhilaration.

They soon reached the grounds. Nandla’s guide seized his hand and led him towards a gaping seal hole.

“Follow me!” he said, dropping the other’s hand and lightly stepping to one side.

“I follow!” replied the sightless man, and straightway fell into a hole.

He went right under, then and there—under the ice—and was immediately drowned and frozen. A handy piece of ice served to seal the death trap, and all was over. Nandla had died on the hunt, and had entered the Eskimo heaven like the other valiant men of his tribe, and taken his place with the doughtiest of them, where there would be joy and plenty for evermore.

[#15] Julian W. Bilby, Among Unknown Eskimo (London: Seeley Service & Co., Ltd., 1923, pp. 147-53);

1 Comment

Filed under Arctic, Arctic Cultures, Indigenous Cultures

ESKIMO OF BAFFIN ISLAND

#14 Theological Questions
     (Charles Francis Hall, 1860-62)

…The Innuits believe in a heaven and a hell, though their notions as to what is to constitute their happiness or misery hereafter are varied as on meets with different communities. Tookoolito says:

“My people think this way: Kood-le-par-mi-ung (heaven) is upward. Every body happy there. All the time light; no snow, no ice, no storms; always pleasant; no trouble; never tried; sing and play all the time—all this continue with out end.

Ad-le-par-me-un (hell) is downward. Always dark there. No sun; trouble there continually; snow flying all the time; terrible storms; cold, very cold; and a great deal of ice there. All who go there must always remain.

“All Innuits who have been good go to Koodleparmiung; that is, who have been kind to the poor and hungry—all who have been happy while living on this earth. Any one who has been killed by accident, or who has committed suicide, certainly goes to the happy place.

“All Innuits who have been bad—that is, unkind one to another—all who have been unhappy while on this earth, will go to Adleparmeun. If an Innuit kill another because he is mad at him, he certainly will go to Adleparmeun.”

[#14] Captain Charles Francis Hall, Life with the Eskimaux(Expedition 1860-1862) (London: Sampson Low, Son, and Marston, 1865).

 

 

Leave a Comment

Filed under Arctic Cultures

HUDSON BAY INUIT

#13 The Desertion of Old Women
     (Lucian M. Turner, 1882-84)

…The dress of the Tahagmyut [Hudson Bay Inuit] differs somewhat from that of their neighbors on either side of them…

…The character of their dwellings is the same as that of the other Innuit. Their manner of living and their social customs differ, inasmuch as the Tahagmyut have had less to do with the white traders than their neighbors. They retain many of their ancient customs, long since discarded and forgotten by their eastern relatives.

They have no chiefs; the decisions and desires of the elders and wealthier men are carried out by the remainder of the people. The sentiment of the community is often disregarded, and transgressions of their unwritten law occur; but when the offender becomes notorious, there is usually some means found to stop further evil. The men are excessively jealous and passionate, though slow to avenge and insult. They will wait along time for their revenge, which is certain to result in the death of the offender; for, with these people the system of vendetta is faithfully carried out by the next of kin, who may or may not be a connection by blood of the murdered party. The females are exempt from participation, although they may be the inciting cause of revenge, and prompt the occasion of its commission. Theft, quarrelsome nature, peevishness, and fault-finding, are punished by banishment until the wanderer is expelled from tent to tent, and becomes a miserable outcast, who succumbs to starvation, and becomes food for the beasts, or else is driven to insanity, and when violent, is quietly strangled. Old persons—especially friendless old women, who have been a thankless burden upon the community—are frequently left behind, the people being suddenly impelled to remove their camp and thus desert them. If such a woman succeeds in overtaking the party, a second attempt is stopped by some of the men returning and binding her, as though ready for the grave, and then deserting her, when starvation and death shortly ensue.

…Their dead are treated with no ceremony. They simply lash the limbs of the deceased to the body and expose the corpse to the elements, removing it, however, from immediate sight of the camp. Old and infirm people are treated with severity, and when dependent upon others for their food they are summarily disposed of by strangulation or left to perish when the camp is moved.

…Aged people who have no relatives or whom they may depend for subsistence are often quietly put to death. When an old woman, for instance, becomes a burden to the community it is usual for her to be neglected until so weak from want of food that she will be unable to keep up with the people, who suddenly are seized with a desire to remove to a distant locality. If she regains the camp, well for her; otherwise, she struggles along until exhausted and soon perishes. Sometime three or four of the male retrace their steps to recover a lost whip or a forgotten ammunition bag. They rarely go farther then where they find the helpless person, and if their track be followed it will be found that the corpse has stones piled around it and is bound with thongs.

An old woman at Fort Chimo had but one eye, and this was continually sore and very annoying to the people with whom she lived. They proposed to strangle her to relieve her from her misery. The next morning the eye was much better and the proposed cure was postponed.

Cases of suicide are not rare, considering the few people of that locality. Pitching themselves off a cliff of producing strangulation are the usual methods. Sometimes a gun is used. Remorse and disappointed love are the only cause of suicide.

[#13] Lucien M. Turner, “The Indians and Eskimos of the Ungava District, Labrador,” Proceedings and Transactions of the Royal Society of Canada for the Year 1887 (Montreal: Dawson Brothers, Publishers, 1888, p. 102); also see Lucien M. Turner, “Ethnology of the Ungava District, Hudson Bay Territory,” Bureau of American Ethnology, 11th annual report, 1889-90, 1894, pp. 178, 186;

Leave a Comment

Filed under Arctic Cultures

IGLULIK ESKIMO

#12 Those Who Were Left Behind
     (Knud Rasmussen, 1921-1924)

The communism which necessarily prevails in Eskimo society in order that all can manage to exist renders it a duty for the family to care for all helpless persons; among such are reckoned fatherless children, widows or old men and women who on account of age are no longer able to keep up with the rest on the constant hunting expeditions. In the absence of immediate relatives, the village as a whole is charged with the care of those who are unable to provide for themselves. But although such might often be inconceivably modest in their demands, they might sometimes be left to their fate. This applies more especially to old women, who could no longer render any useful service. Often pure heartlessness was the cause, but it might just as often be the severity of the struggle to make ends meet, which forced the head of a household to restrict the number of mouths to be fed, in times of scarcity, when despite all efforts he could not even procure food enough for those nearest of kin. Orphan children were blocked up in snow huts and left there, buried alive. They were called “mato˙ruƒ˙ät”: “those who have been covered up.” Old and worn out folk would be left behind on the road when unable to keep up with the rest on a journey: one day the old creature would lag behind, and be left, in the track of the sledges, no one troubling to fetch the laggard in to camp when the snow huts were built. These were called “qimatät”: “those who were left behind.” Sometimes also, the party would simply neglect to take them along when first setting out from the old site, and they might then freeze or stave to death—often a lingering death, unless they chose to hang themselves rather then suffer so long. But though the severe conditions of life were responsible for these cruel customs, it was nevertheless always reckoned a shameful thing to be guilty of such heartlessness. And the stories, which have always a moral touch, and point very clearly the difference between right and wrong, generally provide some miraculous form of rescue for such unfortunates, with a cruel and ignominious death for those who abandoned them…

[#12] Knud Rasmussen, Intellectual Culture of the Iglulik Eskimos (Report of the Fifth Thule Expedition 1921-24) (Copenhagen: Gyldendalske Boghandel, Nordisk Forlag, 1929): 159-60.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Arctic, Arctic Cultures, Indigenous Cultures