Possession, Demoniacal And Other

by T K Oesterreich

  Amongst many dwarf races possession seems to be generally non-existent. Thus I find in Ed. H. Man’s account4 of the pigmies of the Andamans, in other respects so interesting, no mention of analogous states. He merely remarks that in dreams certain individuals enter into relation with the spirit-world, but nothing indicates that spirits may speak by the mouth of a living man. We also read in M. V. Portman:

  They have much faith in dreams, and in the utterances of certain “wise men” who, they think, are able to foretell the future and know what are the intentions of the Deity, and what is passing at a distance. Like all such “priesthoods” this superstition is used by the “wise men” to enhance their powers and comforts, and to obtain articles they wish for from others without any real compensation. 5

  This observation is too summary to warrant any conclusions as to the existence of possession.

  The information concerning Shamanism amongst the pigmies as, indeed, all other aspects of their life, is extremely scanty. I must associate myself with the urgent request made from the standpoint of religious psychology by P. W. Schmidt that a rapid and thorough study of these small and fast-disappearing peoples should be undertaken before it be too late. Given their general position in the history of human evolution it is of the highest importance to acquire a more precise knowledge of their extraordinary states of religious excitement.

  Closely allied to the pigmies are the Veddas of Ceylon,concerning whose states of possession some very interesting information is available. The great work of the cousins Sarasin1 which focussed upon them the attention of the German scientific world, contains nothing on this subject, but we are indebted to two English researchers named Seligmann for some very valuable accounts.2 It emerges from these that the Veddas are very familiar with ritual possession, in which every one of their communities has a man trained to be a professional expert. This shaman falls into possession at the time of their ceremonial dances, thus making it possible to communicate with spirits, particularly the souls of the dead. But there is not only the professional shaman; other Veddas, especially the kinsfolk of those most recently dead, may become possessed, showing that the required autosuggestibility is not confined to certain individuals. Nevertheless, as we shall see, there are persons who are not susceptible to possession.

  In each community there is one man called kapurale or dugganawa, who has the power and knowledge requisite to call the yaku, and in the ceremony of presenting the offering called Nae Yaku Natanawa (literally the dancing of the Nae Yaku), this man calls upon the yaka of the recently dead man to come and take the offering.… The dugganawa becomes possessed by the yaka of the dead man who speaks through the mouth of the shaman in hoarse, guttural accents, declaring that he approves the offering, that he will assist his kinsfolk in hunting, and often stating the direction in which the next party should go.

  Each shaman trains his successor, usually taking as his pupil his own son or his sister’s son (i.e., his actual or potential son-in-law). Handuna of Sitala Wanniya learnt from his father. At Henebedda we were told that a special hut was built in which the shaman and his pupil slept, and from which women were excluded. It seems probable that this is only done among Veddas who have come under Sinhalese influence, as among them, but not among the wilder Veddas, women are considered unclean, and there was no isolation of the shaman and his pupil at Sitala Wanniya.

  Sella Wanniya of Unawatura Bubula was instructed by his father, and during his apprenticeship he resided with him in a hut into which his mother was not allowed to come.

  The pupil learns to repeat the invocations used at the various ceremonies, but no food is offered to the yaku. At Sitala Wanniya we were told that the shaman recited the following formula, explaining to the yaku that he is teaching his pupil: “May (your) life be long! From to-day I am rearing a scholar of the mind. Do not take any offence at it. I am explaining to my pupil how to give this offering to you.”

  The yaku understand that although the formulæ invoking them are recited they are not really being called, and so the pupil does not become possessed while learning, nor do the yaku hurt him. The pupil avoids eating or touching pig or eating fowl in the same way as the shaman, and Sella of Unawatura Bubula stated that while learning he avoided rice, coconuts and kurakan, eating especially the flesh of the sambar and monitor lizard.1

  The shaman exercises complete control over his pupil and, we believe, does not usually train more than one disciple. We heard of one instance in which a shaman, considering his pupil unfit, advised him to give up all idea of becoming a shaman. This happened among the Mudigala Veddas, apparently between twenty or thirty years ago. No man, however highly trained, is accounted, the official shaman of a community during his teacher’s life, although with his teacher’s permission he will, when he is proficient, perform ceremonies and become possessed by the yaku.…

  Besides the shaman one or more of the near relatives of the dead man may become possessed, but this though common is not invariable. The yaka leaves the shaman soon after he has promised his favour and success in hunting, the shaman often collapsing as the spirit departs and in any case appearing in an exceedingly exhausted state for a few minutes. However, he soon comes round, when he and all present, constituting the men, women and children of the group, eat the offering, usually on the spot on which the invocation took place, though this is not absolutely necessary, for on one occasion at Sitala Wanniya a rain squall threatened, the food was quickly carried to the cave a few hundred yards distant from the dancing ground.2

  It must be emphasized that according to the Seligmanns the possession of the shamans is not of a somnambulistic character:

  The method of invocation of the yaku is essentially the same in all Vedda ceremonies; an invocation is sung by the shaman and often by the onlookers, while the shaman slowly dances, usually round the offering that has been prepared for the yaku. Sometimes the invocations are quite appropriate and either consist of straightforward appeals to the yaka invoked for help, or recite the deeds and prowess of the yaka when he too was a man, as when Kande Yaka is addressed as “continuing to go from hill to hill (who) follows up the traces from footprint to footprint of excellent sambar deer.” But at other times the charms seen singularly inappropriate; probably in many of these instances they are the remains of old Sinhalese charms that have not only been displaced from their proper position and function, but have been mangled in the process, and have in the course of time become incomprehensible. As the charm is recited over and over again the shaman dances more and more quickly, his voice becomes hoarse and he soon becomes possessed by the yaka, and although he does not lose consciousness and can co-ordinate his movements, he nevertheless does not retain any clear recollection of what he says, and only a general idea of the movements he has performed. Although there is doubtless a certain element of humbug about some of the performances, we believe that this is only intentional among the tamer Veddas accustomed to show off before visitors, and that among the less sophisticated Veddas the singing and movements of the dance soon produce a more or less automatic condition, in which the mind of the shaman, being dominated by his belief in the reality of the yaku, and of his coming possession, which acts without being in a condition of complete volitional consciousness. Most sincere practitioners whom we interrogated in different localities agreed that although they never entirely lost consciousness, they nearly did so at times, and that they never fully appreciated what they said when possessed, while at both the beginning and end of possession they experienced a sensation of nausea and vertigo and the ground seemed to rock and sway beneath their feet.

  Some men, including Handuna of Sitala Wanniya, whom we consider one of the most trustworthy of our informants, said that they were aware that they shivered and trembled when they became possessed, and Handuna heard booming noises in his ears as the spirit left him and full consciousness returned. He said this usually happened after he had ceased to dance. We could not hear of any shaman who saw visions while posses
sed or experienced any olfactory or visual hallucinations before, during, or after possession. The Veddas recognize that women may become possessed, but we only saw one instance of (alleged) possession in a woman, which occurred at a rehearsal of a dance got up for our benefit on our first visit to Bendiyagalge, during which we are confident that none of the dancers were really possessed. Although we did not see the beginning of this woman’s seizure we have little doubt that there was a large element of conscious deception in her actions, for when we became aware of her she was sitting bolt upright with her eyes shut and the lids quivering, apparently from the muscular effort of keeping them tightly closed, while opposite her was Tissahami the Vedda Arachi muttering spells over a coconut shell half full of water with which he dabbed her eyes and face.1

  It is particularly interesting from the point of view of psychology to know up to what point the Veddas participate voluntarily and of set purpose in the genesis of possession. The Seligmanns are of opinion that the states are intermediate, neither quite passive nor entirely voluntary, and unquestionably not purely assumed. They have probably hit the mark. The more exact analysis of this remarkable blending remains a task for the future demanding a deeper insight than we now possess into the relationship between active and passive psychic phenomena, especially as conditioned by the mentality of primitive peoples, so essentially different from that of the civilized.2

  It is not suggested that the conscious element is entirely absent from the Vedda possession-dances, it is impossible to believe that such a sudden collapse as that occurring in the Henebedda Kirikoraka ceremony (when Kande Yaka in the person of the shaman shoots the sambar deer), followed by an almost instantaneous recovery, is entirely non-volitional, and the same holds good for the pig-spearing in the Bambura Yaka ceremony at Sitala Wanniya. We believe that these facts can be fully accounted for by a partial abolition of the will, that is to say, by a dulling of volition far short of complete unconsciousness. The shaman in fact surrenders himself to the dance in the fullest sense, and it is this, combined to a high degree with subconscious expectancy, which leads him to enact almost automatically and certainly without careful forethought the traditional parts of the dance in their conventionally correct order. Further, the assistant, who follows every movement of the dancer, prepared to catch him when he falls, may also greatly assist by conscious or unconscious suggestion in the correct performance of these complicated possession-dances. Again, we do not think there can be any doubt as to the non-volitional nature of the possession, by the yaka, of the bystanders, near relatives of the dead man, which may take place during the Nae Yaku ceremony.

  One remarkable fact may be chronicled here—viz., that we have never met a Vedda who has seen the spirit of a dead man, that is to say, no Vedda ever saw a ghost, at least in his waking hours.1

  Nor did the Nae Yaku regularly make their presence known in any other way than by possession, though some Veddas translated the minor noises of the jungle into signs of the presence of the yaku. These facts also seemed to militate against the idea that any considerable part of Vedda possession is a fraud, deliberately conceived and perpetrated, for knowing, as many Veddas do, of the frequency with which the Sinhalese see “devils” and “spirits” of all sorts, nothing would appear easier, if fraud were intended, than for a shaman to assert that he could see the spirits which every Vedda believes are constantly near him.2

  The facility with which the Veddas become possessed is quite astonishing, the accounts recalling those given by Mariner of the natives of the Tonga Islands. There is no need for preparatory autosuggestion; suddenly, as if at a given signal, the change in the state of consciousness takes place:

  When the Maha Yakino are invoked to cure sickness a basket is used in which are put a bead necklace and bangles and the leaves of a na tree. The Shaman becomes possessed and raises the basket above the patient’s head and prophesies recovery.3

  The Nae Yaku are the spirits of the dead, they must report themselves to Kande Yaka as the chief of all the yaku and from him obtain permission to help the living and accept their offerings. Kande Yaka comes to the Nae Yaku ceremonies since the spirits of the dead could not be present without him. It was definitely stated that the spirits of the dead did not become yaku until the fifth day after death, but my informant knew nothing of the state of the spirits during this period though it was surmised that at least part of the time would be passed in seeking Kande Yaka or in his company, though there was no idea as to where Kande Yaka had his being. It was, however, stated that the spirits of the dead were in the hills, caves and rocks. The Nae Yaku including the spirit of the dead man are invoked on the fifth day after death. An offering is made of coconut milk and rice, if these are obtainable, but if not one consisting of yams and water is substituted. The shaman dances, holding in his hand a big ceremonial arrow for which no special name could be elicited, while the remainder of the community gather round. The shaman invokes the Nae Yaku and also Kande Yaka and Bilindi Yaka. The shaman becomes possessed and is supported lest he fall while the spirit of the deceased promises that yams, honey, and game shall be plentiful. He then sprinkles coconut milk or water from the offering on the relatives of the deceased, as a sign of the spirit’s favour. One or more of the relatives of the dead man may also become possessed. The shaman gives the relatives water and yams, putting their food into their mouths himself while he is possessed, and it appeared that this might cause the relatives to become possessed. At the end of the ceremony he asks the Nae Yaku to depart to where they came from and the spirits leave the offering.1

  We consider that the beliefs so far described represent the first stratum or basis of the Vedda religion and to be of its original substance.2

  With a single possible exception the dances of the Veddas are ceremonial and are performed with the object of becoming possessed by a yaka.… The majority of the ceremonial dances described in this chapter are pantomimic, and so well illustrate the objective manifestations of the condition of possession that little need be said on this subject, though it may be well to repeat our conviction that there is no considerable element of pretence in the performance of the shaman. The sudden collapse which accompanies the performance of some given act of the pantomime, usually an important event towards which the action has been leading up, is the feature that is most difficult to explain. According to the Veddas themselves it occurs when a yaka suddenly leaves the individual possessed, but it does not invariably accompany the cessation of possession, and it may equally occur when the individual becomes possessed.… This can be explained as the result of expectancy, they expected to be overcome by the spirit of the deceased, and in fact this happened. In this connection we may refer to a Sinhalese “devil ceremony” which we witnessed in the remote jungle village of Gonagolla in the Eastern Province. One of us has described this ceremony elsewhere, but we would here specially refer to the condition of the Katandirale or “devil dancer” when dealing with the dangerous demon Riri Yaka. Although he took special precautions to prevent the demon entering him, that is to say to avoid possession by the demon, he almost collapsed, requiring to be supported in the arms of an assistant, as under the assaults of the yaka he tottered with drawn features and half open quivering lips and almost closed eyes. Yet avowedly he was not possessed by the demon, but on the contrary was successful in warding off possession. His whole appearance was that of a person suffering from some amount of shock and in a condition of partial collapse, while the rapidity with which he passed into sleep immediately Riri Yaka, and his almost equally dreaded consort Riri Yakini had left him, also favour the genuine character of his sufferings, concerning which he said that although he had never completely lost consciousness he had been near doing so and had felt giddy and nauseated. During the condition of partial collapse the dancer’s face was covered with sweat and so felt clammy, but this may only have been the result of his previous exertions; his pulse was small and rapid and was certainly over 120, though the conditions prevented it being
accurately counted. Here we have a condition only a degree short of possession, occurring in an individual who not only hoped and expected to avoid being possessed by the spirit whom he invoked to come to the offering, but took elaborate precautions to prevent it. Had he become possessed it would have been a disaster which would have led to his illness and perhaps death, and would certainly have frustrated the object of the ceremony. Here there can have been no desire to lose consciousness, yet as the result of anticipation of the attack of the yaka the katandirale came near collapse.

  This in our opinion throws a flood of light on Vedda possession and the collapse which may take place at its beginning, but it does not exactly explain the collapse often experienced when a yaka leaves a person. But here we may seek assistance in the idea of anology; when a spirit leaves the body, collapse and unconsciousness, permanent (death) or temporary (swoon, fainting fits or sleep), ensue. When the yaka leaves the body which for the time it has entirely dominated, what more natural than that collapse should occur or be feigned by the less honest or susceptible practitioners? There is no doubt that the Vedda ceremonies make considerable demand on the bodily powers of the dancers, but this is not so great as in the case of the Sinhalese devil ceremony of Gonagolla, since the Vedda ceremonies are of shorter duration—none we saw lasted over two hours and the majority certainly did not take so long. In spite of this we noted, after more than one ceremony, that the shaman was genuinely tired, and this was the case at Sitala Wanniya, where Kaira appeared actually exhausted at the end of the Pata Yaka ceremony.1

  When the yaka enters the person of a shaman it is customary for him to inspect the offerings, and if he is pleased—which is almost invariably the case—he will show his pleasure. This is usually done by bending the head low over the offering, then springing away and shouting “Ah! Ah!” while taking short deep breaths. The natural outcome of the yaka’s gratitude is a promise of favours to the community. When prophesying good luck, the shaman places one or both hands on the participant’s shoulders, or if he carries an aude or other sacred object, the shaman holds this against the latter’s chest, or more rarely, presses it on the top of his head. His whole manner is agitated and he usually shuffles his feet, speaks in a hoarse somewhat guttural voice, taking short deep breaths, and punctuates his remarks with a deep “Ah! Ah!”2