Malay Magic Being an introduction to the folklore and...

“Ideas of various characters are associated by Malays with birds of different kinds, and many of their favourite similes are furnished by the feathered world. The peacock strutting in the jungle, the argus pheasant calling on the mountain peak, the hoot of the owl, and the cry of the night-jar, have all suggested comparisons of various kinds, which are embodied in the proverbs of the people.10 The Malay is a keen observer of nature, and his illustrations, drawn from such sources, are generally just and often poetical.

“The supernatural bird Gerda (Garuda, the eagle of Vishnu), who figures frequently in Malay romances, is dimly known to the Malay peasant. If, during the day, the sun is suddenly overcast by clouds and shadow succeeds to brilliancy, the Pêrak Malay will say “Gerda is spreading out his wings to dry.”11 Tales are told, too, of other fabulous birds12—the jintayu, which is never seen, though its note is heard, and which announces the approach of rain;13 and the chandrawasi, which has no feet. The chandrawasi lives in the air, and is constantly on the wing, never descending to earth or alighting on a tree. Its young even are produced without the necessity of touching the earth. The egg is allowed to drop, and as it nears the earth it bursts, and the young bird appears fully developed. The note of the chandrawasi may often be heard at night, but never by day, and it is lucky, say the Malays, to halt at a spot where it is heard calling.

“Nocturnal birds are generally considered ill-omened all over the world, and popular superstition among the Malays fosters a prejudice against one species of owl. If it happens to alight and hoot near a house, the inhabitants say significantly that there will soon be ‘tearing of cloth’ (koyah kapan) for a shroud. This does not apply to the small owl called punggok, which, as soon as the moon rises, may often be heard to emit a soft plaintive note. The note of the punggok is admired by the Malays, who suppose it to be sighing for the moon, and find in it an apt simile for a desponding lover.

“The baberek or birik-birik, another nocturnal bird, is a harbinger of misfortune. This bird is said to fly in flocks at night; it has a peculiar note, and a passing flock makes a good deal of noise. If these birds are heard passing, the Pêrak peasant brings out a sĕngkalan (a wooden platter on which spices are ground), and beats it with a knife, or other domestic utensil, calling out as he does so: “Nenek, bawa hati-nia” (“Great-grandfather, bring us their hearts”). This is an allusion to the belief that the bird baberek flies in the train of the Spectre Huntsman (hantu pemburu), who roams Malay forests with several ghostly dogs, and whose appearance is the forerunner of disease or death. “Bring us their hearts” is a mode of asking for some of his game, and it is hoped that the request will delude the hantu pemburu into the belief that the applicants are raʿiyat, or followers of his, and that he will, therefore, spare the household.

“In former days, at Katapang, in Sumatra, there lived a man whose wife, during her pregnancy, was seized with a violent longing for the meat of the pelandok (mouse-deer). But it was no ordinary pelandok that she wanted. She insisted that it should be a doe, big with male offspring, and she bade her husband go and seek in the jungle for what she wanted. The man took his weapons and dogs and started, but his quest was fruitless, for he had misunderstood his wife’s injunctions, and what he sought was a buck pelandok, big with male offspring, an unheard-of prodigy.

“He had sworn a solemn oath on leaving home that he would not return unsuccessful, so he became a regular denizen of the forest, eating the flesh and drinking the blood of the animals which he slew, and pursuing night and day his fruitless search. At length he said to himself: ‘I have hunted the whole earth over without finding what I want; it is now time to try the firmament.’ So he holloa’d on his dogs through the sky, while he walked below on the earth looking up at them, and after a long time, the hunt still being unsuccessful, the back of his head, from constantly gazing upwards, became fixed to his back, and he was no longer able to look down at the earth. One day a leaf from the tree called Si Limbak fell on his throat and took root there, and a straight shoot grew upwards in front of his face.19 In this state he still hunts through Malay forests, urging on his dogs as they hunt through the sky, with his gaze evermore turned upwards.20

“His wife, whom he left behind when he started on the fatal chase, was delivered in due time of two children—a boy and a girl. When they were old enough to play with other children, it chanced one day that the boy quarrelled with the child of a neighbour with whom he was playing. The latter reproached him with his father’s fate, of which the child had hitherto been ignorant, saying: ‘Thou art like thy father, who has become an evil spirit, ranging the forests day and night, and eating and drinking no man knows how. Get thee to thy father.’

“Then the boy ran crying to his mother and related what had been said to him. ‘Do not cry,’ said she, ‘it is true, alas! that thy father has become a spirit of evil.’ On this the boy cried all the more, and begged to be allowed to join his father. His mother yielded at last to his entreaties, and told him the name of his father and the names of the dogs. He might be known, she said, by his habit of gazing fixedly at the sky and by his four weapons—a blow-pipe (sumpitan), a spear, a kris, and a sword (klewang). ‘And,’ added she, ‘when thou hearest the hunt approaching, call upon him and the dogs by name, and repeat thy own name and mine, so that he may know thee.’

“The boy entered the forest, and, after he had walked some way, met an old man who asked him where he was going. ‘I go to join my father,’ said the lad. ‘If thou findest him,’ said the old man, ‘ask him where he has put my chisel which he has borrowed from me.’ This the boy promised to do, and continued his journey. After he had gone a long way he heard sounds like those made by people engaged in hunting. As they approached, he repeated the names which his mother had told him, and immediately found himself face to face with his father. The hunter demanded of him who he was, and the child repeated all that his mother had told him, not forgetting the message of the old man about the chisel. Then the hunter said: ‘Truly thou art my son. As for the chisel, it is true that when I started from home I was in the middle of shaping some bamboos to make steps for the house. I put the chisel inside one of the bamboos. Take it and return it to the owner. Return now and take care of thy mother and sister. As for him who reproached thee, hereafter we will repay him. I will eat his heart and drink his blood, so shall he be rewarded.’

“From that time forward the Spectre Huntsman has afflicted mankind, and many are those whom he has destroyed. Before dismissing his son, he desired him to warn all his kindred never to use bamboo for making steps for a house, and never to hang clothes to dry from poles stuck in between the joists supporting the floor, and thus jutting out at right angles with a house, ‘lest,’ said he, ‘I should strike against such poles as I walk along. Further,’ he continued, ‘when ye hear the note of the bird birik-birik at night, ye will know that I am walking near.’

The Spectre Huntsman (Wild Huntsman) of Malay legend—taken from a model made by a Selangor Malay. The model shows the Spectre Huntsman himself carrying his spear in the right hand, and one of his hounds, which is lame, in a wallet at his side. The remainder of his dogs (all differently coloured) precede him in his search for his quarry.

“Then the boy returned to his mother and delivered to her and all their kindred the injunctions of the lost man. One account says that the woman followed her spectre husband to the forest, where she joins in the chase with him to this day, and that they have there children born in the woods. The first boy and girl retained their human form, according to this account, but some Pawangs say that the whole family are in the forest with the father.21

“Numerous mantra, or charms, against the evil influence of the Wild Huntsman are in use among the Pawangs, or medicine-men of Pêrak. These are repeated, accompanied by appropriate ceremonies, when the disease from which some sick person is suffering has been traced to an encounter with the hantu pemburu.22