VIII

We saw before in the chapter on mythology that magic bridges over the cleavage between the super-normal world of myth and the normal, ordinary happenings of to-day. But then, this bridge itself must necessarily touch the super-normal, it must lead into that domain. Magic surely, therefore, must partake of the supernatural character? There is no doubt that it is so. The effects of magic, although constantly witnessed, and although considered as a fundamental fact, are regarded as something distinctly different from the effects of other human activities. The natives realise quite well that the speed and buoyancy of a canoe are due to the knowledge and work of the constructor; they are well acquainted with the properties of good material and of good craftsmanship. Yet the magic of swiftness adds something more to even the best constructed canoe. This superadded quality is regarded very much like the properties of the mythical canoe which made it fly through the air, though in the present day canoes these properties have dwindled down to mere surpassing speed.

The language of spells expresses this belief through the constant allusions to myth, similes in which the present canoe is invited to imitate the mythical one. In the explicit comments on the Kudayuri myth, the natives also state definitely that the prodigious speed which well-charmed canoes develop is the legacy and counterpart of the old flying speed. Thus the effects of magic are something superadded to all the other effects produced by human effort and by natural qualities. The same is to be found in love magic. The importance of a fine face and figure, of ornaments, decorations and nice scents, is well recognised as being of attractive value, yet almost every man ascribes his success to the perfection of his love magic. The force of magic is considered as something independent of, and surpassing even, the power of all other personal charms. A statement very often met with expresses this quite well:

“Look, I am not good looking, yet so many girls want me. The reason of that is that I have good magic.”

In garden magic, soil, rain, proper work, are given their full due. None the less, no one would dream of making a garden without the full magical performance being done over it. Garden magic is thought to make just this difference, which a man hopes for from ‘chance,’ or ‘good luck,’ when he sees everybody round him working as hard as he can, and in all other respects under similar conditions to himself. So we see that, in all these cases, magical influence runs parallel to and independently of the effects of human work and natural conditions. It produces these differences and those unexpected results, which cannot be explained by any of the other factors.

So far, we see that magic represents, so to speak, a different sort of reality. When I call this different sort ‘super-natural’ or ‘super-normal,’ one of the criteria which I use here lies in the emotional reaction of the natives. This, of course, is most pronounced in the case of evil magic. The sorcerer is not only feared because of his bad intentions. He is also feared as ghosts are feared by us, as an uncanny manifestation. One is afraid of meeting him in the dark, not so much because he might do any harm, but because his appearance is dreadful and because he has at his bidding all sorts of powers and faculties which are denied to those not versed in black magic. His sweat glows, night birds run with him to give him warning; he can become invisible at will and produce paralysing fear in those he meets. In short, the same hysterical dread, associated amongst ourselves with the idea of haunted places, is produced by the sorcerers in the minds of the natives. And it must be added that the natives have no such emotion of dread at all with regard to the spirits of the departed. The horror which they have of the bwaga’u is even stronger in the case of the mulukwausi, to whom all sorts of most uncanny properties are attributed. Their ghoulish feasting on corpses, their capacity of flying, of making themselves invisible, of changing into night birds, all this inspires the natives with extreme terror.

The other magicians and their art do not inspire such strong emotions in the natives, and of course in any case the emotion would not be that of dread. There is a very great value and attachment to systems of local magic, and their effects are distinctly considered as an asset for a community.

Each form of magic also has its associated magical portent, kariyala. When a magic formula is spoken, a violent natural upheaval will take place. For example, when garden magic is performed, there will be thunder and lightning; with certain forms of Kula magic, a rainbow will appear in the skies. Others will produce shower clouds. The portent of a mild storm, accompanying the opening of the magical bundle (lilava) has already been quoted. The kayga’u may produce a tidal wave, whereas an earthquake will be the result of other forms of magic. War magic, in an unexpectedly bucolic way, affects only some plants and birds. In certain forms of magic, a portent would take place whenever the formula is uttered, in others, this will not be so regular, but a kariyala will invariably occur when a magician dies. When asked, what is the real cause of any of these natural phenomena enumerated, they will say:

“Magic is the real cause (u’ula); they are a kariyala of magic.”

Another point, where magic touches the super-normal or supernatural, is in the association of spirits with certain magical performances. A special type of magical payment, the ula’ula, is at the same time an offering to the baloma (spirits). The magician will detach a small bit of the large quantity of food brought to him, and put it down on some special place, with the words:

“Partake, O spirits, of your ula’ula, and make my magic thrive.”

At certain ceremonies, the spirits are supposed to be present (see Plate LIX). When something goes wrong with magic, or it is badly performed, ‘the spirits will become angry,’ as it is often expressed by the natives. In some cases the baloma will appear in dreams and advise the magician what to do. As this is the most active interference of the spirits in human affairs, as far as magic is concerned, I shall quote in free translation some statements obtained on the matter.

“The owners of fish magic will often dream that there is plentiful fish. The cause of it is the magician’s ancestor spirit. Such a magician would then say: ‘The ancestral spirit has instructed me in the night, that we should go to catch fish! And indeed, when we get there, we find plenty of fish, and we cast the nets.’ ”

“Mokudeya, the maternal uncle of Narugo,” who is, the main fishing magician of Oburaku “comes to his nephew in a dream and instructs him: ‘Tomorrow, cast the nets for fish in Kwabwawa!’ Narugo then says: ‘Let us come, the old man instructed me last night.’ ”

“The kaloma (spondylus shell) magician of Sinaketa dreams about a plentiful patch of kaloma shell. Next morning, he would dive and knock it off on the reef. Or he dreams of a canoe, and he then paddles and casts the anchor at that place. To’udawada, Luvayam, Sinakadi dream that they knock it off in plenty. When next morning we go there, it is plentiful.”

In all these examples (except the last) we see that the spirits act as advisors and helpers. They fill the rôle of guardian of the traditions when they get angry because of a bad performance, or as associates and sympathisers when they share the magician’s ula’ula. But they are not agencies which get to work directly. In the Trobriand demonology, the magician does not command the spirits to go and set to work. The work is done by the agency of the spell, assisted by the accompanying ritual, and performed by the proper magician. The spirits stand in the same relation, as the performer does, to the magical force, which alone is active. They can help him to wield it properly, but they can never become his instruments.

To summarise the results of what we have learned about the super-normal nature of magic, it may be said that it has a definite character of its own, which differentiates it from the non-magical actions of man. The manner in which the magical force is conceived to act, parallel to the ordinary efforts but independent of them; the emotional reaction to certain types of magic and magician; the kariyala; the intercourse with spirits during the performances, all these properties differentiate magic from the ordinary activities of man.

In native terminology, the realm of the magical is called by the word megwa, which describes the ‘magical performance,’ the ‘spell,’ the ‘force’ or ‘virtue’ of magic, and can be used as adjective to describe in general everything which presents a magical character. Used as a verb, the words megwa, miga-megwa, miga, all of which are variations of the same root, mean: ‘to perform magic,’ ‘to utter a spell,’ ‘to carry out a rite.’ If the natives want to express that certain actions are done in connection with magic, and not with work, and that certain effects are due to magical forces, and not to other efforts, they used the word megwa as a substantive or adjective. It is never used to describe any virtue residing in a man or a thing, nor for any action which is independent of a spell.

The associated concept of taboo is covered by the Kiriwinian word bomala (with suffixed possessive pronouns). It means a ‘prohibition,’ something which a man is not allowed to do under any circumstances. It is used for magical taboos, for prohibitions associated with rank, for restrictions in regard to food generally considered as unclean, as, for example, the flesh of lizards, snakes, dogs and man. There is hardly any trace of the meaning of ‘sacred’ attached to the word bomala. If anywhere, it can be found in the use of the word boma, for a tabooed grove where men usually are not allowed to enter, and where traditional spots, often original holes where men came out and whence magic issued, are to be found. The expression toboma (to-, prefix denoting personal noun) means a man of high rank, but hardly a sacred man.