V

It is also evident in studying the manner in which the force of the spell is conveyed to the object, that the voice of the reciter transfers the virtue. Indeed, as has been repeatedly pointed out, in quoting the formulæ, and as we shall have to discuss later still, the magical words are, so to speak, rubbed in by constant repetition to the substance. To understand this better we must inquire into the natives’ conceptions of psycho-physiology. The mind, nanola, by which term intelligence, power of discrimination, capacity for learning magical formulæ, and all forms of non-manual skill are described, as well as moral qualities, resides somewhere in the larynx. The natives will always point to the organs of speech, where the nanola resides. The man who cannot speak through any defect of his organs, is identified in name (tonagowa) and in treatment with all those mentally deficient. The memory, however, the store of formulæ and traditions learned by heart, resides deeper, in the belly. A man will be said to have a good nanola, when he can acquire many formulæ, but though they enter through the larynx, naturally, as he learns them, repeating word for word, he has to stow them away in a bigger and more commodious receptacle; they sink down right to the bottom of his abdomen. I made the discovery of this anatomical truth, while collecting war magic, from Kanukubusi, the last office holder of the long succession of war magicians to the chiefs of Omarakana. Kanukubusi is an old man, with a big head, a broad, high forehead, a stumpy nose, and no chin, the meekest and most docile of my informants, with a permanently puzzled and frightened expression on his honest countenance (see Plate LVIII). I found this mild old man very trustworthy and accurate, an excellent informant indeed, within the narrow sphere of his speciality, which he and his predecessors had used to make ‘anger flare up in the nanola’ of Omarakana men, to make the enemy fly in terror, pursued and slaughtered by the victorious warriors. I paid him well for the few formulæ he gave me, and inquired at the end of our first session, whether he had any more magic to produce. With pride, he struck his belly several times, and answered: “Plenty more lies there!” I at once checked his statement by an independent informant, and learned that everybody carries his magic in his abdomen.

There exist also certain ideas about stratification of magic, namely, that certain forms of magic have to be learnt first, so that they sink down, while others come on top. But these ideas are vague and contradictory, whereas the main idea, that magic rests in the belly, is clear and definite. This fact gives us a new insight into native ideas about magic. The force of magic, crystallised in the magical formulæ, is carried by men of the present generation in their bodies. They are the depositories of this most valuable legacy of the past. The force of magic does not reside in the things; it resides within man and can escape only through his voice.