Pygmies and Dream Giants

P YGMI E S
AND
Dream Giants
PYGMIES
A
Dream Giants
K ILTO N
STEW ART
LONDON
VICTO R GOLLANCZ LIMITED
*955
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY

1.0WE AND HRYDONE (PRINTERS) LIMITED, LONDON, N.W.IO
To my parents, v)ho had to accept the Negritos

as part of their family because the pygmies made
me their brother and because l insisted that l
myself, and the other members of the family
that all menare pygmies, except as their stature
is increased from day to day by the dream giants.
Contents
1 The Whirlpool
The Egg in My Past
3 Juan of Bataan
4 Spirit Cave on Pinatoba
5 Hunting-and-Gathering Magic
6 Olan
7 Funeral Feast and Betrothal
8 Courtship the American Way
9 Nomads of Zambales
10 Typhoon
11 The Sopot-Sopot Demon
12 The Head-Hunters
13 Hymns and Head Dances
14 MacGregor and the Enemy
15 Bontoc
16 Journey into Ifugao
17 The Rice Terraces of Ifugao
18 The Rice-Increasing Ceremony
19 Lost among the Gods
20 Spiritualism in Ifugao
21 Spirits of the Mountain
22 The Trail Back
23 Universal Man
Index
2
3
15
29
39
59
7i
8z
89
97
ii4
120
132
I48
159
170
191
197
212
225
238
249
260
271
285
ONE
The Whirlpool
JLHE Abra River, which I had

seen as a brook at its source, was now a raging flood that poured
from the Philippine jungle, turned at the base of a giant granite
crag, and roared through a deep gorge past the little village of
Bokai.
The granite cliff was the first thing I had noticed as I approached
the village from upstream. I wondered how the mountains and the
river country through which I had passed would look from its
peak. It would be a difficult climb in this rainy season, but since
I could remain at Bokai only two more days, I persuaded the two
sons of the house where I was staying to arrange for an expedition
along with some of the village boys.
In order to arrive at the rivers brink by sunrise, we started at
midnight, using torches of pitch pine to light our way. The thun
derous vibration from the gorge filled the air and shook the earth
underfoot. Behind a rhythmic, surflike booming, came the roar of
a Niagara.
When at last we topped the crag at the upper end of the gorge,
I was able to see the reason for the pulselike roar. A half mile above,
3
PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

4
the meandering island-dotted river broke into straight, steep rapids.
At the top of the rapids, the water formed a smooth, glossy sheet,
but toward the bottom it broke up into deeper and deeper furrows,
as though the pressure from above wrinkled its surface at the lower
end. Just before reaching the cliff, the furrows curled and broke
like ocean waves into clouds of spray. The vast, pulsing sound was
said to proceed from the vitals of a water fairy so fierce that no
man or beast had ever lived while traveling through the turbulent
waters of her domain.
After striking the cliff, the boiling water slithered along the
gorge another half mile in an unbroken chain of whirlpools, until
it reached the abrupt end of the cliff and emptied out into a wide
bubbling pool, only a short distance from the village. The natives
called this pool the Mother of Fountains. From where we stood, it
looked like a tremendous well.
The boys explained that not even the biggest raft could survive
the whirlpools. If it was not smashed to pieces at the top, the water
fairy would suck it under like a straw. As we watched, a floating
hardwood tree buried its broken branches in the cone of one of the
whirlpools. Lifting its knotted roots slowly into the air, it sank
vertically out of sight. The lads beside me turned pale, and making
some trivial excuse, retired to the other side of the cliff to wait
for me.
Terrified at being alone, I called to them to rejoin me. The
twisting gargantua below filled me with panic. While it was still
black, the water had abounding life. Now, as the sun tipped the
horizon, it was becoming crimson. At first only the foam on the
crest of the waves glinted red against the shadows. Then, as the
red tips of spray grew pink, the whole river turned scarlet. This
was not the birth of a day; someone had slit the jugular vein of
night.
I turned from the scene and joined the boys. They were dis
cussing a cave, whose black mouth the sun had revealed a few
miles up the river. From where we stood it looked like a tiny speck
in the face of a white cliff, but judging from the distance I knew
it must be immense. They were talking about a snake, the mythical
father of all snakes, which lived inside it. The uncle of one of the
boys claimed he had built a fire on the back of this snake, thinking
it was a log, and had been carried by the snake into the gloomy
interior of the cave. The lads who had been to school doubted that
THE WHIRLPOOL
the snake lived there. They were especially skeptical of the old
mans story.
The cave was too far away from the village to frighten them.
They said that the old man had been dreaming in the woods because
he had drunk too much rice wine, and they were not inclined to
give his nephew credit for being related to the only living man who
had actually seen the monster.
As I listened to the discussion, I realized that I must explore the
cave. It spelled adventure and possible treasure. Ancient Chinese
traders used huge jars, exquisitely made and decorated, as con
tainers for rice and other merchandise sent to the Philippines. Some
of the mountain people exchanged rattan for the jars, which they
used as caskets when they buried their dead in the caves. A cache
of those Ming jars is worth a fortune, to say nothing of the ancient
carvings and ceremonial objects which were buried with the dead.
The boys knew of no one who had explored the cave. The peo
ple of their valley were afraid of the mythical snake and gave it
a wide berth. Because they knew that strangers would ask to be
guided there, they never spoke of it to them.
If I could take advantage of the braggadocio of these Filipino
boys, who had expressed their disbelief in the snake, so that they
would lose face if they refused to accompany me, I knew they
would guide me there even at the risk of their lives.
Why are you boys so much afraid of the things you dont be
lieve in? I asked them.
Afraid of what? one of them asked.
Afraid of the snake in the cave, for instance, I answered.
We are not afraid of the snake. The insult made the boy turn
pale.
If you are really not afraid, you will take me to it, I answered.
A movement like the wind playing in a clump of reeds ran through
the group.
Of course, we will take you if you want to go, one of them
answered, but you will wish we hadnt. In the rainy season, the
trails are overgrown with thorny creepers of rattan. We will have
to cut our way through every foot to get there. With the help of
the farm hands we can do that, but the mud will cling to your feet
at every step, and before you have gone a mile, your legs will
cramp. The trail leads along the old river bottom. Even a horse
would be exhausted by the trip.
Ive been in your mountains for months, I answered. I know

what your muds like. I want a good days workout. Lets get under
way.
Without a word, the boys pulled out their bolos and we began
the journey. Soon I had to admit to myself that they were right.
A hundred times I wished the lads were Americans and I could
suggest that we turn back without losing face myself. No treas
ure on earth could be worth the torture of perpetually pulling my
feet from that clinging mud.
Six hours later we crept into the mouth of the cave, more dead
than alive, to find shelter from the torrent of rain which had been
beating down upon us since an hour after sunup. The boys had
shown no mercy for me along the way, and had pushed on relent
lessly, without addressing a word to me. The only sounds had been
the endless hacking of the bolos and the gradually fading roar of
the rapids.
We found no hint of smoke on the walls, no sign of cave paint
ings, none of the discolorations which would indicate human oc
cupation. Millions of bats poured out of the gaping mouth as we
entered, and a few small snakes darted into cracks in the walls.
The stench of bat manure was stifling.
The boys walked calmly around the caves gloomy interior with
me, as if too exhausted by the grueling journey to feel their former
dread. With their long knivesthey willingly dug into any corner
which I indicated, only reminding me that there was a long trail
back, and that no pines were available for torches. After a half
hour of digging, it stopped raining and we made ready to return.
Now the boys would not have to cut their way, and I knew
that my legs would never stand the quickened pace they would
set. If we went back the way we had come, my need for repeated
stops for rest would keep us on the trail all night without food, and
we had had little to eat since morning. By swimming down the
river to the head of the rapids, however, we could escape the cling
ing mud of the bottoms. I had gone swimming with the lads before
and knew that they were like fish in the water. There was the
danger of crocodiles, but the boys were adept at avoiding them.
We could make the six or seven miles in an hour or two, and
land at the head of the rapids fresh for the remainder of the jour
ney. We could then pick up the trail of the morning and be home
by sunset.
THE WHIRLPOOL
7
If you boys were not afraid of the crocodiles, I said non
chalantly, we might swim down the river and have a refreshing
afternoon of sport instead of a dreary tramp through the mud.
The boys looked at one another with astonishment. In the rainy
season no one ever wished to swim in the river above the rapids,
unless bewitched by the water fairy and marked for death. I learned
later that they could not tell me of this belief without arousing the
fairys wrath against themselves, so they would have to swim with
me.
They argued awhile in dialect, and we started for the river. It
made a wide bend through the bottoms. The bank at our side was
a morass of mangrove swamps where swimming would be impos
sible. We would have to swim over to a chain of islands in the
center and skirt them until we had passed the swampy shore, well
down toward the rapids. We could then wade across a broad shal
low arm of the river, back to the left bank at the head of the
rapids.
As we descended, they pointed out the swamp and the shallows
to me on the maplike landscape below. Along the mangrove fringe,
the crocodiles would be dangerous, since they could dig their feet
into the mud or roots and lash out with their tails. They would
not usually attack a man swimming in deep water, let alone a group.
If we followed the central chain of islands we would be in little
danger from them. As we cut our way down to the river bank, I
found the boys stealing sidewise glances at me, half in wonder and
half in dread. They sang native songs as they hacked away, and
the spirits of the party rose noticeably.
At the bank of the river I took off my shirt and boots. The
boys thought I had better leave on my breecheswhich had been
shortened and reinforced since my arrival at the villageas pro
tection against snags and rocks in case I fell in the shallow water.
All the rest of our things were given to the laborers who had come
along in the morning to bear the torches and help cut the trail.
Wild horses could not have dragged one of them into the water.
They did not have to maintain face or share the burden of the
master class. Since they could not hope to keep up with us along
the trail, the boys told them we would meet them at the village.
No suspicious-looking logs floated in the little creek which
formed the cove at our feet. In his left hand each of us carried a
bolo, holding it by the sheath so that it would not cut the hand,
but could be easily drawn should a water snake contest our trail
or a crocodile attack us while swimming. We were ready to leave,
but each time I looked at the brown water something held me
back. I could not call it intuition. I would not admit that it was fear.
Letting go of the bank, 1 pushed off into the stream. What a
blessed relief it was to feel the water supporting me and the cur
rent taking the place of my will.
Swim straight across for the islands! someone shouted. But
dont fight the current!
For two hours we passed strings of islands without difficulty.
It was easier than trudging through the mud. Each time we stopped
to rest, the boys examined the currents below. Their feeling for
the power and danger of the water was uncanny. Repeatedly they
warned me away from a suspicious eddy and told me where my
feet would find a sandbank or when to be careful of rocks I could
not see.
It was an exhilarating journey. Excitement grew as the roar of
the cataract gradually became louder. Finally we rounded the bend
which put the swampy territory behind us and brought the head
of the rapids into view. Up to the point where they broke, the land
looked as level as a table, and from our position in the water, we
could see nothing beyond. We seemed to be approaching the edge
of the world.
Now we were on the last long fingerlike island, which reached
over toward the left bank, where we. were to land. The island,
which had appeared so small from the cave, proved to be nearly
a mile in length. The ribbon of water across which we must wade
wras some quarter of a mile wide. On the sandy upper point of the
island we stopped to rest and discuss this last lap of our journey.
The water, less than waist deep at the upper end of the island,
looked the same all the way across.
If it gets deeper toward the shore, we will have to walk up
stream, the boys cautioned me. If the going is too difficult we
will have to walk back to the island and try it from the next one
above.
So far the journey had been easy and pleasurable. I only half
listened to instructions. The increasing roar and vibration had
acted on me like a stimulant, and the ribbon of shaliow water ahead
seemed puny.
The water exerted a steady pull against my legs, but it was so
THE WHIRLPOOL
9
constant that I soon failed to notice it. Walking was simple enough,
except for the pain on the soles of my feet caused by the rocky
bottom. I decided to seek relief by swimming a ways. Before I had
taken a dozen strokes, the lads called out something about the
water fairy. I stood up again and was astonished to see how far
above me they were. The swift water had been forcing me down
stream, and it was getting deeper again.
Pointing off diagonally toward the bank, they motioned for me
to walk upstream. It had become obvious to them that there was
a channel on the extreme left side and that we would have to walk
upstream a bit further.
I could hardly hear what they were saying, but it was apparent
from their gestures that they were filled with panic. Suddenly the
rock on which I was standing gave way, and before I could find
a foothold, I had lost another fifty yards. The water had increased
in depth and swiftness. I noticed also that the current at the bottom
was much more rapid than at the top, as the water on the bottom
was sucked out over the smooth lip of the rapids below.
I tried to walk upstream, but to my astonishment I made no
progress. Under my feet the whole bottom of the river was mov
ing with the water toward the rapids. The footing on the stones
was too unstable to permit my pushing against the stream. I could
not go straight up toward the boys. Nor could I walk toward the
bank. The water became deeper with every step.
I turned and made my way back toward the island. This was
easier because the current at the bottom was now with me. When
I looked up, I was shocked to find how much smaller the boys ap
peared. I could no longer hear a word they were saying. Half of
that fingerlike island had mysteriously slipped by me. For each
step I took toward the island, I was being washed down two steps
toward the rapids.
If I lost my footing once more, I would have no chance. I must
swim back in the direction of the island. On the surface I might
escape that wrenching undercurrent. The distance rapidly di
minished as I swam, but the nearer the trees approached, the more
quickly the island slipped away from me. Finally, it disappeared
from sight.
I had reached a point squarely on the brink of the rapids. The
water was still shallow, and my feet found the bottom. But here
the rocks underfoot were like feathers. I could not stand on them.
B
IO
They seemed to be floating into the rapids. Not more than fifty
feet separated me from the last great root, which projected off
the end of the island and stretched out through the foam toward
me. Leaning against the current and treading on the shifting rocks,
I was able to approach that root inch by inch. If I could keep my
balance I would reach it.
I felt like a squirrel running in a wheel. At last I could see the
wrinkles in the bark of the root. A step and I would be able to
grasp it, but my foot found no bottom. Too late I realized that I
had stepped from the shelf on the shallow side of the island. The
current from the other side grasped my feet. The roots and the
trees disappeared; the island above me moved up and down; I was
over the edge of the universe. One last glimpse of the human specks
in the river at the head of the island and then that upper world was
wiped out.
Now I was floating, with nothing to do for awhile but look at
the cliffs where I had stood at dawn, watching them grow rapidly
larger; nothing to do but slip down the glossy sheet of water be
tween the freshly washed green hills toward the inferno. The
rocks, which had refused to support me, were clashing against each
other with quarreling, sobbing sounds, as they were hurled along
beneath me by the frenzied water. The sobbing, grating sounds
filled up my head, as though the water in my ears had solidified
into a metal chain stronger than the current. The chain tightened.
I no longer seemed to move. I relaxed and prepared to die. I gave
up. There was no chance. That sobbing chain of sound held me in
place while everything else iii the world slipped away. The clouds
on the hills became white caps on green waves, the trees at the
rivers bank, clouds of emerald spray. Even the granite cliff had lost
its solidity and was blowing toward me.
Directly above was one cloud which, like myself, failed to move
with the rest of the world. It was head-shaped, with shaggy edges
like hair. The face of the head was somehow connected with the
sobbing. My mothers eyes seemed to gaze down at me. Now the
rest of the face was becoming painfully clear. It was a young face,
white and sad, much younger than my mothers when I had last
seen her. It seemed to say, Why do you hurt me by being reck
less and wasteful?
Wasteful, echoed the mournful sob from the grinding rocks.
In a few seconds that rapidly growing black storm cloud below
THE WHIRLPOOL
11
would break over me and life itself would be wasted. Faced with
the whirlpool, which I accepted as death, I had no fear of dying,
but only nausea, guilt, and self-loathing, a sense of sin so deep that
I felt my body losing tone and warmth, and all its customary inner
feeling and action.
The rhythm of the sobs moved more slowly. Now the face
moved down out of the sky and hovered before me until I could
hardly see the world moving by. The sadness in the eyes was un
bearable. The rhythm stopped.
The face was beginning to swim before me. It was like a picture
in a black frame, and as the image became more vague, the frame
grew wider. So this was deathblackness closing on a picture.
Only the eyes were clear now. They had taken on the impish look
of Olan, the Negrito girl to whom I had been betrothed by the
rites of her people. Now the face was filling with wrinkles, and the
eyes with the desperate urgency of the old Filipino woman trying
to express her gratitude because she believed I had saved her son
from black magic. The recognition was like an explosion. The eyes
were conveying a message to me: Not all bad, but good and bad.
Blood suddenly flowed in my veins again, sweeping away the
ice that had frozen my heart and contracted my mind, dissolving
the lump in the pit of my stomach, turning it into exaltation, which
bubbled up as laughter. I was full of blood, full of a life that felt
like fire. I would not submit to death in that senseless brown water.
Beneath that black cliff, which was now almost over my head, was
only the struggle, life.
By now I was in the middle of the river, well down the rapids
toward the canyon, where from the crag I had seen the smooth
surface of the water beginning to wrinkle in the red light of the
morning sun. The roar from below was deafening, and I felt rather
than heard the pulsing rhythm of the waves breaking on the
diagonal granite cliff that blocked their path.
Now the water about me was rapidly dividing into waves. The
little one I was riding became a leisurely moving dowager whale.
It had been especially created to carry me and it kept expanding
to give me a better view. My arms sliced the puny water like blades,
as though a powerful and cunning fish brain inside me had taken
over the simple function of swimming, leaving my mind free to
drink in the blue of the sky, the gleaming crystals of the wet, black
granite rising up before me, the towering height of the cliff, and the
12
red of a flame tree which clung to a deep scar in its battered face.
The whale-wave violently hunched its back, swelling rapidly
upward, and I was lying on a curling, silver fin of water which
broke away beneath me. Dropping through space, I fell into a
world of foam which let me down and down. Then suddenly it
was gone. I had struck a rock, which bit into my flesh. Flat and
smooth where my leg and foot had hit it, there was a sharp edge at
the upper end which tore the skin over my ribs. For an instant
the water pressed me to the rock with crushing force. Then it freed
me and I was tossed about.
I was back on the surface again, but the air, which I felt pouring
into my lungs, was the only familiar thing in this foamy world. The
water had lost its orderliness and separated into welts and bumps
and ridges, which went roaring and hissing about in mad confusion,
as though a vast array of animals had been caught in the darkness,
beneath a rubber sheet, and were making a desperate, senseless
effort to exterminate one another. I was close to the cliff now, al
most under it, and it was beginning to move upstream and to sway
back and forth with a crazy earthquake rhythm. A huge funnel ap
peared from nowhere, and I was lying on its lip. Then I began to
slip down its revolving surface, traveling with it upstream against
the force from above.
I felt my lungs filling up with air. As I reached the bottom of the
cone, my body crouched like one expecting a blow. I'hen I was
spinning. The world grew from black to bright, as though the
water fairy were throwing showers of sparks into my eyes. A new
roar sounded in my ears. It was the roar of increasing pressure,
a roar that was more pain than sound, yet louder than any sound I
had ever heard. Then there were voices, whole snatches of conver
sation, like people talking.
Suddenly the pressure diminished, and I felt as though powerful
hands were tearing at me. Then I was swimming. With a cunning
insight, my hands and feet opposed the tumult in the water, push
ing me toward the surface with a feeling of exaltation.
Again and again I was tossed about on the writhing, foamy
waves, locked in the embrace of those hissing cones, and then re
leased to find my way back to the air. My mind grew numb. I
was swimming in a black void which was growing light. Then the
darkness was gone and my body bounded into the air, which I was
again gulping gratefully.
THE WHIRLPOOL
*3
I was naked now, swimming in the soft brown water which rose
about me like a well. Somewhere along the canyon my breeches
had been torn away. The rapids and gorge were behind me and the
sky was above. Across a flat stretch of water lay the fringe of the
jungle and the peaceful Bokai valley. The water was making
amends. It had repented of sucking me down and now was glad
to push me into the air. Second by second my head cleared until the
blackness through which I had been swimming began to fade
from my memory like the tail of a snake disappearing down a hole.
The low jungle fringe turned into a wall of trees. The water was
running faster now, and soon I would be at the road where the vil
lagers ferried the river in dry season. I would have to land before
the river reached another canyon.
The calm world of green and blue above me was suddenly dis
turbed by a womans voice and then by a clatter of voices. For an
instant I was uncertain that I was really out of the whirlpool, and
expected to see the court of the water fairy. Instead I saw a
familiar and reassuring sight. The women of a near-by village were
washing their clothes on the big rocks at the waters edge. They
had been as surprised to see me emerge from the fountain as I
had been to hear their voices. I looked up at them and smiled. They
stood there, waving their arms and chattering like monkeys.
The water was getting shallow now. My knees grated against a
rock. Just as I was about to stand up and wade from the river,
I remembered that I no longer had my trousers. I sank back into
the water and decided to swim on so I could land without embar
rassing the women. But by this time they had decided that I was not
a water fairy. They ran chattering along the shore, pointing to the
canyon below and beckoning wildly.
Plague it all! Why must they be so helpful? What was a gentle
man to do?
I was swimming closer to the bank now. A banana plant had
caved into the water, and as my fingers touched its long ribbonlike
leaves, I realized that I had found a solution. I wrapped a leaf about
my middle and stood up, trying to look as though I had never
worn anything but leaves for clothing.
Bokai, I said, pointing up the trail.
Bokai, they murmured in a chorus. They gaped at me as
though they were surveying a water fairy after all.
In spite of my leaf I felt naked and embarrassed as I climbed

14
from the river, and helpless as an infant. The avenging angel who
banished Adam from the Garden of Eden, with his fiery sword,
could not have been more terrible than the cloud face of my
mother.
Now my mind did not go with me along the trail, but turned
back to that face and to the memory of my condemned feeling,
my conviction that I had been found utterly bad and had been
justly banished from the garden of human life. Even the recollec
tion of it filled me with astonishment. Surely I had done some mis
chief, some wickedness, some blasphemy, to accumulate inside me
the malignant, crushing, freezing sense of guilt I had felt ih the
rapids.
Maybe it was wrong to study people and their gods, to observe
and record their dreams, their magic, and their ceremonies. Per
haps observing the head-hunters had made me guilty of all the
murders they had committed. Perhaps the Negrito god, Tolandian,
whose secrets I had learned, was holding me responsible for all
the incest and the blood feuds which had gone unavenged since
the beginning of time. Or perhaps I had already sinned before that
fateful evening, a year earlier, when I visited the Hartendorps and
my expedition had its inception. Perhaps Mrs. Hartendorp had
realized that I was already lost. Perhaps she had been looking
through my skin at some diabolical state of inner stagnation or
damnation when she insisted on learning what I was running away
from.
TW O
The Egg in My Past
Y expedition had begun,

really, with my arrival at the Hartendorps home. I remember that
I approached the house with excitement, hope, and misgiving. Mrs.
Hartendorp met me on the porch of her bungalow in suburban
Manila and welcomed me with the gracious warmth of an old
friend. My arms were filled with equipment for mental tests, and
I still felt more the sailor than the psychologisthaving landed
that morning from the ship on which I had worked my way from
Honolulubut she looked at me as if I were an ideal dinner guest,
helped me set down my gadgets, and steered me to a comfortable
chair.
My husband has been telling me about you, she said. She was
slender, and the light-green gown she wore made her seem cool and
poised. He takes psychology and science and the future of the
world very seriously. I dont.
She left me with that, but came back in a moment and gave me
a glass filled with bourbon and soda.
I am more interested in what people are running away from,
15
16
she said. Lots of wanderers pass through here, and most of them
are running away from something. They dont know it, of course,
but they are. What are you running away from?
I was glad I had the drink. I gulped some of it, kept the glass
to my lips to cover my shock, and arranged a few stalling phrases
in my mind. I dont know, I said, lowering the glass. I am going
toward something, and therefore I must be leaving something, but
whether I am running away from it, or being drawn from it to
something else, I dont know.
She gave me the suspicious look which women reserve for a
statement that sounds logical and therefore dangerous. At this
>oint, to my relief, her husband came out on the porch with a
arge, dark-haired man, whom he introduced as Dr. Gilbert Perez,
of the Bureau of Education.
Dr. Perez is interested in the psychology of the non-Christian
tribes of the Philippines, Hartendorp said. He has more knowl
edge of the islands than anyone else I know. I want you to tell
him about your project. He can help you with it, Im sure.
Hartendorp was editor of the magazine Philippine. I had met him
that morning, when a reporter steered me to him as the person
most apt to know something of the available printed material on
the Negritos, the primitive pygmy peoples of the Philippine moun
tain areas. I had told him of my idea, admitted I was broke, and
helped him talk himself into the notion of financing my trip with
an advance against some articles about it. He had not committed
himself, but had asked me to dinner, after which I was to demon
strate on some neighborhood children the psychological tests I
planned to use on the Negritos. With them 1 hoped to explore my
favorite psychological theorythat all men develop from a single
mental pattern, and that this pattern can be discovered by a psy
chological study of successive levels of humans, ranging from the
primitive to the sophisticate. This single pattern I regarded as the
central mind which builds the physical body of every man from
the elements of his environment, and establishes and maintains the
vital rhythms and normal states of that body. At the same time, this
central mind builds up a personality from the patterns or elements
of the social environment.
The Negritospygmies who lived by hunting and gathering
fruits and nuts, and who did not settle anywhere, even to sow crops
were the most primitive people still available for such study.
THE EGG IN MY PAST
*7
Tribes of them were scattered in various parts of the world, in

Africa and in New Guinea, the Philippines, and other parts of
Malaysia.
I began to explain to Dr. Perez that the first point in my plan
was to find the Negritos, when Mrs. Hartendorp interrupted. He
is under obligation, she said, to tell me what he is running away
from.
I could see that I was going to earn any commission I got from
her husband, and I was going to earn it by her standards. I decided
I would have to be casual, brief, and self-deprecatory. It would
be almost impossible to tell it all anyway. What would she make
of the fact that I was bom a Mormon? To some people that in
itself was reason for running away. I thought of my family, old
in the religion, moved by their dreams and visions to follow Joseph
Smith when the prophet led them west from New York, and to
follow Brigham Young on the long trek across the desert to Salt
Lake. I myself, like many other young Mormons, had gone off
as a missionary at eighteen. I had spent three years in Quebec and
Nova Scotia, asking everyone I met to doubt all his previous
knowledge and convictions and authorities, and to attempt to leam
from his dreams and visions if the message of the Mormon prophet
was right or wrong.
I couldnt tell Mrs. Hartendorp more than the fact that when I
had finished being a missionary I decided to be a doctor. I had
never tried to dig back and codify all the influences and desires
that had brought me to that decision. It did not matter much, in
any case, since after entering college and starting on a premedical
course I had got only as far as the egg.
Mrs. Hartendorp was polite. The egg? she said.
I love the egg story. It thrills me even now after so many tell
ings. After all, it describes my discovery of what, to me, is the
mystery of life. It is the key to my understanding of mans evolu
tion, mans health, mans happiness.
If had been a frogs egg, examined in biology class. Dr. Child,
the great biologist, had discovered that at the moment of fertiliza
tion, a sort of electric whirlwind is established inside the egg. This
whirlwindthe axle gradient, he called itmaintained a positive
head area at the point where the sperm made contact with the egg,
and a negative area across from it, to balance it off. This fascinated
me. It had the appearance of a trinity in unity, with its positive,
B*
i8
negative, and central area. I had always heard that the God of the
universe was such a trinity.
Mrs. Hartendorp showed signs of amusement and I realized I
was going to sound like a missionary. I hurried on. I was afraid she
would not let me finish.
With our microscope and our electronic equipment, we watched
these mysterious inner forces building the body of the frog. It
occurred to me that I had forces of this same sort in myself, that,
at one time, even I was a mere egg.
So you looked into the egg and there was yourself. Have you
been running ever since? asked Mrs. Hartendorp.
Had I? It had been frightening to me because my hero, the
scientist, turned out to be a villain. When, in the laboratory, he
directed a beam of light into the egg, the inner center that was
directing its growth lost control, and a second head was seen to
form where the light was focused, resulting in a monster.
A villain in the egg romance, said Mrs. Hartendorp. Did you
stay loyal to your first love, the simple egg child of nature, or was
your heart drawn to the monster of the biologists?
Looking back, it seemed to me that I never did forget my first
love, but from then on, I felt more at home with the monster, as
though it had joined the brotherhood of human beings. The
scientist had introduced into a growing thing an artificial energy
pattern which was strong enough to change its natural inner ar
rangement. All human beings are subject to recurrent artificial pat
terns, such as words, numbers, machines, and ceremonies. I ex
plained that, like the frogs egg, we are all changed by these pat
ternsinto super-animals or into sickly monsters.
Once man has learned to use language, he never stops growing.
He remains forever like an egg, constantly evolving. He goes on
endlessly building up separate patterns or centers inside himself.
He can see these patterns as the reflection of things at which he is
looking in the outside world. Later, in his memory, or in his dreams
and visions, he can see what a pattern did to him, how it changed
him. He can see the image and feel the impulse or emotion which
it aroused. Thus, in the characters, objects, and forces of his
thoughts, dreams and visions, he can sense, and can therefore strug
gle against or co-operate with, the centers he is building up in
side his skin. His dream-visions are the most important, because in
them, fate gives him a second chance to adjust to, or digest, those
THE EGG IN MY PAST
19
patterns which he could not assimilate properly while he was
awake. Moreover, they give him a better chance than he can ever
have while he is awake because during sleep he is resisting new
patterns from without.
My own dreams had convinced me that the photographlike
images I built up in my mind in the daytime could dominate my
dreams at night as though I were still a helpless infant in them,
as helpless as an egg. These images could make me hot or cold
like malaria germs, could affect my pulse and breath like a leaking
heart, and make my stomach feel as though it were full of rubber.
Did these dream giants stay ashore when you sailed from
Hawaii? asked Mrs. Hartendorp. Will they be afraid of losing
their heads if they go with you up to the Negritos?
Yes. The inner giants had bothered me less when, as a child and
later as an observer, I spent some time with the Ute and Navaho
Indians, and I had grown to like nonliterate peoples. The spirit of
co-operation among them was soothing. There was more freedom
and less anxiety about order and cleanliness. If I was running away
from something, perhaps more work with primitive people would
help me to find out what it was.
Mrs. Hartendorp seemed to be in a daydream, which she did not
abandon when she got up from her chair. I think dinner is ready,
she said.
At table I explained that I had arrived in the early morning
from Honolulu on the S.S. President Pierce, on its round-theworld tour, with a camera and five large steel suitcases full of
equipment I had assembled for a portable psychological laboratory.
In one bag there was a small silk tent and a tarpaulin, a couple of
camp chairs, a mosquito net, and some standard books on such
subjects as racial psychology, mental testing, and anthropology.
The other suitcases contained mental tests of every description,
picked up in Europe and America, from which I had, for a number
of years, been attempting to select a few which could be given to
preliterate peoples of various cultures and races. I had also brought
clothing and personal effects.
Attached to me, but not visible, were a family in Utah, a Master
of Arts degree in psychology from the University of Utah, four
years of research in the fields of psychotherapy, mental testing, and
anthropology, and a collection of frustrations which had cul
minated in Honolulu on the beach at Waikiki, where my field work
20
as I pontifically called ithad gotten me into trouble with duly

constituted authority, as it had in the State Training School in
Utah, and as it had with the Mormon priesthood.
It had all started (and I always remembered this in times of
trouble) when I found myself regarding dreams and visions as a key
to mans psychological unity. It began specifically when I became
interested in the frogs egg. When I was a Mormon missionary, and
especially when the mission was completed, I found, to my sur
prise and chagrin, that the religious authorities were not as inter
ested in the current dreams and visions of man, as they were in
the dreams and visions of the leaders of the past.
My attitude on dreams was much too complicated to explain to
Mrs. Hartendorp. Anyway, it had such a mystical flavor that it
would do no good with the scientific-minded people before me.
But it was important. My earliest memory about religion was of
hearing that Joseph Smith, a fourteen-year-old farmer boy, had
read in the Bible: If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God,
that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not.
prayed,
and in a vision he was freed from all the authorities of the past and
was given authority to start a church. Dreams and visions made
it possible to maintain a community where no adult had spiritual
authority over anyone else, since each could communicate with
the supreme authority in his dreams and visions. At least, I felt that
I was a member of such a community.
The idea that God ruled the world of sleep for every man had
become an obsession with me. All the major religions agreed on
this point. Starting here, they might iron out their differences.
Science and religion also seemed to me to reach unity in this area
when I became aware of the scientific discovery of the infinitely
wise force or mind inside the egg, building up and organizing the
millions of cells which would make a frog. If mans central mind,
which controlled and was made up of his heartbeat and other vital
rhythms, was one with God, as the mystics claimed, then God
could better help man to struggle with the disruptive patterns from
the outside world while he was asleep. At this time, the work of
God inside the self would not be interrupted by the arrival of more
patterns from the world of man. For me, this view justified re
ligious faith in dreams and visions, whether, in fact, they came
from God, or only from the wisdom of the body.
In the study of medicine the central mind appeared again as the
THE EGG IN MY PAST
21
wisdom of the body, which maintained the constant states, such as

temperature and the neutral acidity of the blood stream, and the
vital rhythms of the body, such as breathing and heartbeat. The
positive-negative poles which completed the trinity appeared as
the areas of mans body and personality which enabled him to
absorb and be receptive, and to be the oppositeafraid, outgiving,
and aggressive.
Medical science was investigating the way chemicals and mi
crobes and emotions influenced the power of the central mind to
maintain the constant states and normal rhythms on which mans
health depended. This scientific medicine had, in a few short years,
gone far toward ridding the world of epidemic diseases and dietary
deficiencies which, in large parts of the worlds population, the
central wisdom previously could not deal with. But the social pat
terns which also got inside of man, like microbes and chemicals
penetrating his skin, and like the scientists beam of light penetrat
ing the frogs egg, could also affect mans embtions, and through
them influence the constant states and vital rhythms on which his
life depended. These social patterns too could also make him un
happy and antisocial.
Psychology was developing mental tests which indicated how
mans mind worked, how the photographlike images were tied to
the emotions and through them to the vital rhythms. The testing
which had been done in the first quarter of the twentieth century
indicated that the central mind was the same in all races. Man per
formed well or poorly on intelligence tests because the environ
ment had furnished him with good or bad tools for thinking, and
had attached them well or poorly to his emotions. For the same rea
sons, he had a healthy body or a sickly body, a healthy, socially co
operative personality or an antisocial personality. If the central
mind, which built up both the physical body and the personality,
was the same in all races, there was good reason to believe that the
psychologists and social scientists could end the chronic illnesses,
neuroses, and war, as the medical scientists had been able to control
epidemic illnesses, food poisoning, and poisoning from the chemi
cals with which man came into contact in various occupations.
If the mentality, emotions, and central mind of the children of
all races were the same, it would be possible, by collecting their
dreams, to find at what point they encountered the social patterns
or policies which stopped their mental growth or made them grow
22
in different directions than we did in the West. Perhaps eventually

we might find the patterns which made our own growth stop short
of a healthy, crimeless, warless society.
Two years before I had assembled a battery of tests which I felt
would further indicate whether or not there was a universal man,
with an equal potential for physical, mental, and emotional de
velopment, and for social and spiritual co-operation. On a re
search fellowship I was able to give these tests to the least mentally
developed group I could find in our society, the feeble-minded
children at the State Training School in Utah. I had no trouble with
the mental tests since they were widely used and well known even
to the layman, but the authorities looked with suspicion at the
Emotional Response Test I had devised, and at the test for sug
gestibility, and at my collection of the worst and best dreams and
daydreams the children could report.
I was obliged to move on and succeeded in getting a research fel
lowship at the Psychology Clinic of the University of Hawaii.
Here I gave the Porteus Maze Test, the Goodenough Draw-A-Man
Test, and the Binet Test to a few hundred children of the different
racial groups who lived there. English-speaking people, Hawaiians,
Chinese, Japanese, Filipinos, and Portuguese were included in the
project. During my lunch hour, unofficially, I was able to get some
data for the Metal Maze, Emotional Response, and Progressive
Fantasy tests (which I had devised the year before and used at the
Training School). Teachers of the various schools in Hawaii also
co-operated in collecting dreams and daydreams, or fantasies, for
me, as exercises in English, from some of the students I tested. On
my own, in the evenings at my cottage in Waikiki Beach I collected
data on suggestibility and hypnosis. Discreetly, I let it be known
that I would use suggestion to work on any problem that people
brought around, if they would take my Emotional Response Test
and allow me to check the results as part of the trance procedure.
Were you able to find many subjects? Perez asked.
Yes, I said. I shared the house with a very sociable fellow
named Al, who had nothing to do but swim and talk. By supplying
a little food and drink at our unofficial clinic, we soon had all the
subjects we could handlestowaways, soldiers, seamen, and
tourists soon found their way to our door. But apparently there was
too much talk about hypnosis. The officials of the University heard
it, and they were afraid such research might not please the con
THE EGG IN MY PAST
23
servative taxpayers of the islands. They felt that I should find my

subjects farther afield. If I pursued my research on my own some
where else, I would leave the door open for further financial sup
port from Honolulu later on, when it could be arranged. They
were very polite.
So they fired me out of Honolulu and I came to the Far East,
hoping I might find access to some primitive tribes, and scare up
the means of visiting them.
How old are you? Hartendorp suddenly asked.
Thirty, I answered. He nodded to Perez.
Hed better get it over with before hes thirty-five, he said.
After that he wont have the ignorance and the energy to go look
ing for Negritos without money.
I felt that I must start with the Negritos, since they are the most
primitive type of society known to science, and are, therefore, liv
ing at the most infantile state of social development which is avail
able for study. Then I hoped to study other societies, progressively
more highly developed.
If thats what you are looking for, you certainly came to the
right place, Dr. Perez said. We have not only the Negritos, the
most simple type of hunting and gathering society, but also the
Ilongots and the Ifugao, who have made the next great steps in
human progress. With these peoples you can both test your basic
psychological theory that there is a universal man, and look for
the dream giants which point up the obstacles standing in the way
of their social progress or development.
A trip to the Negritos would be dangerous, wouldnt it? Mrs.
Hartendorp asked. Wouldnt they be apt to kill him?
Very possible, Hartendorp said.
Who would kill me? I asked.
Any of the groups I just mentioned, Perez said.
He explained why with great care. The Negritos are an in
credibly simple people. They live an isolated life in the equatorial
rain forests, where millennia slip away with so little change from
the outside that they have not been impelled to change within.
They are probably living the way our own ancestors did some hun
dred thousand years ago, thousands of years before the formation
of the first Egyptian dynasties, before the domestication of food
animals and the origin of agriculture. The lack of these practices
makes them apparently even more primitive than Adams family,

24
since the famous quarrel of Cain and Abel occurred because God
accepted the sacrifice of Abels domesticated animal in preference
to Cains agricultural products.
The anthropologist Dr. Radcliffe Brown had written of the
Negritos in the Andaman Islands near Singapore. A British anthro
pologist named Evans, and Father Schebesta, a priest, had worked
among the Negritos of Malaya. There were also books and papers
on travels among the African pygmies, but very little had been
written about the Negritos of the Philippines. Nowhere were the
Negritos known to have agriculture or to use domesticated animals
for food.
To the Negrito one was not a human being unless he was a
member of the local horde. The Andaman Negritos killed off
everyone who landed on their island over such a long period of
time that they were thought to be cannibalistic, but neither they
nor the Filipino Negritos were now believed to eat their victims.
If they feared someone, if he displeased them, or if he had any
thing they wanted, they would kill him as readily as they would a
monkey or a bird.
The Ilongotsneighbors to the Negritoswere also hunting and
gathering peoples, but they had a shifting dry-land agriculture as
well. This first great step in human progress began the liberation
of man from the constant pressure of the food quest. If the hunt
ing and gathering stages are regarded as the racial infancy of human
culture, then this first type of shifting, dry-land agriculture, where
there is no irrigation and fertilization of the soil, might be regarded
as its childhood.
However, the Ilongots had not yet learned to domesticate ani
mals for food. They had a worse reputation for head-hunting than
any people in this part of the world, and like the mountain Negri
tos, they had not yet been reached by American or Filipino law.
There were also other groups, such as the Bontocs and the Ifugao,
who had taken a third great step in human civilization. They had
developed both agriculture and animal husbandry, such industries
as pottery and weaving, and some regard for territorial as well as
kinship political associations; but they were also head-hunters with
only a veneer of respect for American law against their old prac
tice.
We have described the Negrito tools, methods, and extended
family social organization, which takes no account of womens
THE EGG IN MY PAST
25
rights, as racial infancy, Perez concluded. We have described

the Ilongot shifting, dry-land agriculture as the childhood of
human culture. Therefore, we could describe as racial adolescence
the culture of these other groups, who have improved tools and
methods of agriculture, introduced animal husbandry, and believe
a man has rights because he lives in a place, as well as because of the
blood that runs in his veins. If you want to start at the beginning
and go to the top of the three great developmental stages of the
nonliterate tribes in the Philippines, you should include at least
these three types of peoples in your study, but any of them might
very well kill you, either for your belongings or your head.
Yes, any ,of them might oblige, Hartendorp agreed. But if,
knowing this, you still want to stick your neck out, I would advise
a trip somewhat like this. Start with the Negritos in the Bataan
peninsula, go north up along the Zambales Mountains, then cross
over to the Ilongot territory, and work north and east up through
Ifugao. In such a journey you would also have some contact with
the Kalingas, the Kankanai, and the Bontocs, who are all quite
similar to the Ifugao. The Kankanai do not take heads, and the
Bontocs are quite friendly to the Americans, so you can relax while
youre in their territory. Such a journey should bring you back
to Manila with the answers you want, he said, if you come back
at alt
In total, my purpose was to determine as best I could what kind
of native intelligence the people of these nonliterate societies had
in the beginning, and then to find out what kind of mind was built
up on that basic intelligence by the group processes in which they
found themselves involved, especially as revealed by their dreams,
visions, and ceremonial procedures.
My emphasis on ceremonies aroused considerable interest and
I explained as best I could. While investigating the vision quest and
dream life of the Plains Indians, I had found that some of the dreams
and visions of the American Indians, and their traditional cere
monial interpretations, led the dreamer into his lifes work, while
the traditional interpretation of other dreams led to sex perversions,
murder, and cannibalism.
It has been observed that ceremonies are the most difficult parts
of human culture to change and that therefore they often rep
resent its most ancient elements. The dream, on the other hand, is
26
the freest, most spontaneous and therefore newest type of activity

of which a human being is capable. The coming together of the
dream and the ceremonial interpretation is, therefore, like the meet
ing of the positive and negative clouds in the sky which gives rise to
the lightning. The lightning itself can turn dynamos of human
progress, or can blast the individual and, through him, his society.
I wanted to examine with the scientific instruments of the twentieth
century those societies which had obviously been stunted or blasted
somewhere along the path of social development.
Dreams can apparently give rise to good social practices and
healing ceremonies, or to black magic, head-hunting, cannibalism,
and witchcraft. I wanted to investigate the social policies which
determined in which of these directions mans dreams, visions, and
daydreams would guide him.
With the help of experience, and the things a man has acquired
from his ancestors, he struggles to make his inner images work for
him and for society. Modern research has already proved that one
type of help or interpretation of the dream, vision, or reflective
thought makes man into a saint; another social policy makes him
into a cannibal or a head-hunter. I wanted to find out how this
came about, so the dangerous images man built up in his mind could
be made to stop working against him.
Hartendorp formulated it for me. He wants to give a scientific
description of the basic man, who is the same as all other men in the
sight of God and of the law. And hes brought his tests along to
show us what kind of instruments he has for portraying this uni
versal man and for measuring the nonliterate groups to determine
if they come up to the scientific specifications of the average man
and to determine what the various cultures do to this universal
individual, or to whatever types of individuals he finds.
But why is it so important to find out if such people as the
Negritos are ordinary folks like ourselves? said Mrs. Hartendorp.
There are only a few thousand of them left, and their culture
seems to fade away like the mist of their jungle homes when theyre
brought into contact with more civilized peoples. If you do find
that they have the same natural endowment as other races, and
learn what kind of mind they build up as they live in their simple
society, what then? Theres nothing much you can do for them
that isnt already being done.
Stewart wishes not to teach but to learn from them, said Perez,
THE EGG IN MY PAST
27
to learn how man dealt with the images he acquired before he
had astronomy, mathematics, religion, and philosophy, as we know
it. Hes probably excited about them because when they fade away
like the jungle mist some hundred thousand years of the history of
human thought will be lost with them, unless this most primitive
example of the beginning of human thinking still available for study
can be made a part of the body of Western scientific thought.
After dinner, I demonstrated my battery of tests on some neigh

borhood children, and explained how the Maze or labyrinth test
measured their ability to solve problems. I explained how the
Draw-A-Man Test revealed the comparative ability of the various
children to analyze a human figure into its parts, and to fit them
together again in the proper position and proportion, and how the
test of indirect suggestibility showed the degree to which without
knowing it they were influenced by the moods and actions of
others. I explained how their drawings and accounts of the worst
and best things that could happen to them, their daydreams, and
the memories of the painful and pleasurable emotional incidents
which the questions of the Emotional Response Test brought to
mind demonstrated how mental patterns were attached to their
emotions. I explained how their dreams demonstrated the way these
emotionally charged images attacked and interfered with the vital
rhythms and constant states being maintained in sleep, making it
necessary for the sleep-mind to do a double job. It had to both carry
on the physical processes and conduct the dream, or carry on the
processes and protect itself from the disturbing pattern by tying
it up with tension, or splitting it off.
I explained that the scores I would obtain from the various primi
tive groups would furnish evidence which would affirm or deny
the idea of the universal man, and would help us to know if the
average individual in these groups was the same as the average in
dividual in the groups I had tested in Hawaii, and if we were justi
fied in crediting them with intelligence and feelings like our own.
Both Hartendorp and Perez seemed convinced, but Mrs. Hartendorp remained skeptical. Id like you to answer those test ques
tions yourself, she said. What you are running away from is
more interesting to me than the problem of the universal man.
But maybe your answers on the test will be more revealing when
you return to us.
28
Was she then in favor of her husbands advancing me the money?

I looked inquiringly at Hartendorp. Tve already made out the
check for you, he said smiling.
Instinctively I wiped my brow. It was over. I had won. In a
single day I had talked my way from incipient indigence to the
status of a gentlemanan experimental psychologist on a field
mission to the most primitive peoples in the world. I accepted Mrs.
Hartendorps offer of another drink.
THREE
Juan of Bataan
Jl V WEEK later, as I sat in a bar

near the ferry landing at Mariveles, on the Bataan peninsula across
the Bay from Manila, I had the feeling that my expedition was at
last under way. Dr. Beyer, for many years the anthropologist at
the University of the Philippines and director of the Filipino
Census, had assured me that the five-hundred-peso advance Hartendorp had given me would last me for some time among the Negritos
if I was careful with it. He said I would never get to see many of
the Negrito hordes if I took more than one person with me as
guide and interpreter. There was a risk in going among the Negri
tos with such a small expedition, but it was a necessary risk, if I
ever wanted to find the nomadic bands who had had no contact
with the Lowlanders.
Now I was waiting for Juan, the young man whom Beyer had
recommended as my assistant. Juan was part Negrito and spoke
good English, for he had attended the Negrito farm school on the
Bataan peninsula for a number of years, and had even had a stab
or two at high school. Beyer knew him well since he had worked
2 9

3
for some time as an assistant to various census takers in the Zambales district.
The Negrito hordes in the Zambales Mountains to the north of
the peninsula would be the most unpredictable of the groups we
would visit, since many of them had had no contact with white
people or even with the Lowland Filipinos. Long ago the slave
traders had learned that these isolated nomads were so closely at
tached to their land that they would sicken and die if they were
taken away from it, and therefore were of little use as slaves. Beyer
thought that perhaps my tests would show why they are so de
pendent on their land and on each other, and why they adapt so
poorly to new situations.
The survey parties that had been through the mountains were
so large that the Negritos had given them a wide berth. Many of
the Negrito groups were so wily that even the census takers could
not find them. Therefore, Beyers estimate that there were 9,000
of them in the Zambales Mountains and in the Bataan peninsula,
which anchored the mountains to the south, was to be considered
rough. The census report included a short description of the
Negritos nomadic way of life, his hunting and food-gathering
habits, his animistic religion, and his language, which he seemed
to have in common with the ancient Lowland Filipinos of the
various districts in which he lived.
Unfortunately, this was about all that was known of the moun
tain Negritos. All of them had a bad reputation for killing stran
gers, but Beyer thought I would have a good chance of getting
through if I employed Juan as an assistant and worked for awhile
in the Bataan peninsula with the Negritos whose children had
been to the farm school and who had had some contact with
Filipino traders. This would give me a feeling for the Negrito men
tality and way of life, and I could then decide if it was safe to go
among the more northerly groups.
Ernest Jenks had written a book about the Bontocs for the Bu
reau of Ethnology, and a number of papers had been written about
the other groups I wished to visit, but I could return to Manila
and study them when I had finished with the Negritos. I had ex
pected Juan at noon, but the bartender assured me that the Negrito
sense of time was so dim that I should not be disappointed if he
was anywhere up to a week late. I spent the afternoon listening to
stories about Negrito raids on Lowlanders, their skill as hunters,
JUAN OF BATAAN
3I
the viciousness of their half-wild dogs, and their unreliability as

traders.
At about ten oclock Juan appeared. Beyer had told me he was
in his early twenties, but he looked younger. He was chocolatebrown in color, with a flattish nose and wide, flaring nostrils. His
forehead was high and slightly bulging, beneath a neat, short crop
of frizzy, black hair. His mouth was wide, with heavy lips above
a slightly receding chin which seemed a little small for his fore
head, giving his face a sort of noble expression. He stood somewhat
under five feet, but his body was well proportioned and looked lithe
and wiry in spite of his heavy muscles. He stepped quickly, lifting
his feet high, as though the smooth floor were covered with litter.
Even when his body was still, his large eyes darted from detail to
detail of my face, or from object to object round about, with a
monkeylike alertness. As I talked to him, he seemed to grow larger,
perhaps because of his animated way of moving and speaking.
Crumpled by the heat myself, I felt there was a heroic quality to
his gestures and postures.
I told Juan that I wanted to visit all the Negritos I could find,
to collect their dreams, to give them mental tests, and to observe
their healing ceremonies. I asked him what he would charge to
accompany me as my assistant and interpreter. He was frightened
at the idea of visiting the bands who ranged in the northern terri
tory of the Zambales Mountains, as he knew well only the southern
tribes, but the offer of fifteen pesos (seven dollars and fifty cents)
a month and his keep outweighed the danger of losing his life.
He explained that the project would have been impossible a few
years earlier, but that now, as a result of his attendance at the
farm school, he would probably know people who knew people in
nearly all the groups. By hiring a few of these lads to go with us
from group to group, we would be able to visit most of the hordes.
He was tired of working on plantations and was excited at the idea
of getting back into the mountains with his mothers people. If I
employed him for six months, he would be able to save enough to
obtain as wife one of the more beautiful girls in the Negrito coun
try. Also, he would have a chance to examine the entire field for
prospects before making up his mind.
We spent the next day collecting supplies and visiting the dis
trict health officer, who gave me a cholera injection, antimalaria
drugs, and snake-bite serum, some medicine for dengue fever and

3*
dysentery, instructions about the symptoms of various tropical
diseases I might acquire, and a supply of medicinesespecially for
skin fungi and scabiesto distribute among the Negritos. I had
received antityphoid and smallpox vaccinations on the boat.
Early the next morning we set out for Juans mothers group,
located about halfway up the peninsula on the eastern slope. By
nine oclock we had left the bus and had hired an oxcart from
Roberto, an old Filipino farmer who carried on a rattan trade with
Juans people. For one peso he agreed to take us to the jungle
trail on which he had seen the men of Juans group only a few days
before. We set off in a bullock cart pulled by a water buffalo, who
almost ran his big horn through me when I stepped too near his
head while getting into the cart. Roberto explained that the buffalo
had nothing against me personally except the way 1 stank, and that
one must never go near a buffalos head until the buffalo is ac
customed to ones odor. I did not feel complimented by his as
surance that the buffalo could get used to my odor and might even
grow to like me if I were around him long enough.
We might have brought along an escort of constabulary sol
diers, Juan explained to Roberto as we moved along, wishing to
impress him with the fact that I was an important person. But
Roberto said, agreeing with the advice I had received, that an ex
pedition of more than two people would probably fail to reach
most of the groups. In his opinion we were quite safe if we let the
Negrito women alone and carried no firearms.
Guns and women are the things the Negritos are most likely to
kill you for, Juan explained to me. To get hold of a gun and
some ammunition, they would risk their lives any time and kill
anyone outside their local group. If a man falls in love with your
woman, even a man of your own group, one of your blood kin,
he may commit adultery with her. If you find out about it, you have
got to kill him even if you dont want to, because Tolandian, the
Negrito high god who lives inside the earth, doesnt like adultery.
If he gets mad, he may destroy everybody. The earthworms are
his messengers. That is why you must never sneer at them, and why
you must always thank them for allowing you to put them on
your hook when you fish with them. If Tolandian gets angry, he
turns the earth over so the trees are upside down.
We talked about Tolandian as the wheels of the oxcart squeaked
and the buffalo dug his hooves into the steep, narrow road, wind
JUAN OF BATAAN
33
ing along between banks of cogon grass growing so high that it

almost formed a tunnel over our heads.
Do the earthworms always tell Tolandian if the Negritos com
mit adultery? I inquired.
No, not always, he answered. Sometimes the monkeys tell
things to Tolandian, but they know enough not to talk to anyone
else. When the Negritos are hungry they eat the monkeys. So you
can never tell when the monkeys are going to tattle everything
they know to Tolandian. The Lowlanders stay in one place and
the officials make them pay taxes and go to school. The Negritos
are not that stupid. They travel around so the officials cant find
them very often, but the monkeys are very wise. Monkeys dont
talk to the officials at all, so theyre free to go and come and steal
wives as much as they like. Youd better not make fun of the
monkeys if you want to keep in well with Tolandian.
But you are planning on finding the most beautiful wife in the
mountains, Juan. Arent you afraid shell get you into trouble?
With your own group your friends wont tell you if your wife
commits adultery, Juan answered. Or I can stay with her group,
where none of the men want her. You can never marry a woman
of your own group because she is your blood kin. Tolandian would
strike you dead with lightning if you made love with a woman of
your own band. That is what the Filipinos call incest. Or I could
bring my wife down to the Lowlands, where the white mans god
rules. You dont have to kill people because of the blood feud if
they commit adultery with your wife in the Lowlands.
Why not? I inquired.
I dont know. Maybe they tell the saints, but the saints keep
it to themselves, because theyre dead and dont get angry with you
like the monkeys and the earthworms.
Doesnt Tolandian get mad when you kill a man for committing
adultery? I inquired.
No, Tolandian doesnt mind if you kill people, said Juan. He
only gets mad if you dont kill them to fulfill the blood feud. If
you killed someone in my group, that would not make Tolandian
angry at you, but he would be very mad if one of us did not kill
you in return to avenge the death. Letting you live would be a
violation of the blood feud. I will not get a wife and take her
with me into the strange groups we are going to visit in the north,
because anyone might kill me and take her, and they would be

34
safe from the blood feud if my group never heard about it. They
would also be safe from Tolandians anger about adultery, since
my wife would no longer have a husband. You, as a white man,
wouldnt have to worry in the southern groups if you took a wife,
because all the Negrito bands down this way were told by Lucas
who worked for the United States Army, that all white men are
Christians. Becoming a Christian makes you a blood brother with
everybody else who is a Christian. Therefore, all of them would
have to avenge your death. That would make the blood feud apply
to all white men and Filipino Christians if you were killed; so all
the southern groups know-it isnt safe to kill a white man.
Would they kill me for a gun if they wouldnt for a wife? I
asked.
If you had a gun they could take from you, that would make
them equal to the white men who pursued them, so they would
not be afraid to kill you.
But will I be safe traveling among the northern groups? Will
they know that all Christians are brothers? I inquired.
I will tell them about it, Juan reassured me.
But suppose they spear us before you have a chance to tell
them, I asked.
They arent likely to do that, he said, because they will think
we are just the advance guard of a party. It would be dangerous
to kill us before they knew how many more people they would
have to fight, especially since they have to protect their wives and
children. They all know that no two people would be foolish
enough to travel alone in a foreign territory, and that a raiding
party out of its own territory has no wives and children to pro
tect.
The interminable cogon grass at last came to an abrupt end in
a wall-like forest of mountain jungle. Juan folded up his store
clothes, which he had bought with the three years savings he had
accumulated since graduating from the farm school: a pair of yel
low shoes, a cheap plaid suit, an undershirt, and a thin shirt which
looked like mosquito netting. He wrapped them in a large piece of
paper and turned them over to Roberto. Ill pick them up next
year when I have a wife, he called to him, as the old Filipino drove
his cart back into the cogon grass.
The only evidence of civilization Juan kept was a sleeveless, short
canvas jacket which, he explained, made the straps of the pack
JUAN OF BATAAN
35
rest easier on his back and shouldersand a twenty-foot strip of
canvas which he wound about his middle and tucked up between
his legs, so one end hung down in the front and the other in the
back to just above his knees. He said the canvas was a little softer
and more durable than the bark cloth used by the Negritos. The
pack he had made up for himself was heavy for one so small: a
machete, ten pounds of coarse salt, twenty pounds of compressed
shredded tobacco, five pounds of cloth, small mirrors and other
trinkets, ten pounds of medical supplies which the district health
officer had given us to distribute among the Negritos.
My pack was somewhat lighter: a small waterproof silk Japanese
tent and a tarpaulin which could serve as a raincoat (brought from
Hawaii), a blanket, underclothing and a spare khaki shirt, test
papers and equipment, amedicine kit and a flask of alcohol, and a
bag of rice. In all, my pack weighed about forty pounds, but I
wore a pair of short elkhide boots, whipcord riding breeches, and
a canvas jumper, and carried a machete, which added another ten
pounds to my burden.
It was cooler in the twilight shade of the jungle trees as we
marched up the trail. The gnarled roots, twisting vines, and cur
tains of moss seemed to be bursting with a sinister power, hiding
dangerous animals or insects which now threw out a wall of sound
almost as dense as the jungle itself.
Before we had traveled a quarter of a mile Juan laid down his
pack. You must be more careful of the leeches, sir. Your boots
are covered with them, he said, pointing to my feet. They looked
like tiny strands of harmless moss to me. He scraped them off with
his knife. A white man can easily die from a leech bite, he said.
It pierces the skin and you have a sore that takes weeks to heal.
Four or five of these sores and you cant travel. A dozen of them
and you have fever and blood poisoning. Up higher in the moun
tains they arent so bad, but down here you must watch them every
minute.
The very thought of watching every minute was exhausting.
Where are the leeches? I asked. I dont see them anywhere.
Juan picked up a stick and struck the earth. Hundreds of little
threads appeared like blades of grass on the trail. They dont stand
up until your foot thumps on the earth, he explained. Then
those that are not under your foot fasten on to the edges of it.
I shuddered. I had expected to find snakes in the jungle. Each

36
twisted vine looked like one to me, but these tiny leech snakes
that grew along the trail like hairs were particularly disgusting.
You cant rest long or youll get stiff, said Juan, picking up
the pack. Again we trudged up the slippery trail. From the corner
of his eye Juan saw me absent-mindedly pluck a leaf and nibble
at it. No, Mister! There was fury in his voice. You must not
eat the leaves or even take hold of them. Often they are poison.
They will make you sick and they have wood ticks on them. If
the ticks bite you, it is as bad as the leeches, or worsethey give
you jungle fever. There are also spiny caterpillars and tiny tree
snakes hiding in the leaves. If you are the first one on the trail, you
must decide where to put your hand, what bushes must be cut,
and where to put your foot. If you are second on the trail, you
know from watching the leader where to put your foot and where
to put your hand. He spat and continued up the trail.
It was difficult to follow him. Already my shoulders ached under
the pack, and sweat ran down from every pore.
When we had pulled our packs off the oxcart, they had not
seemed heavy, but now that we had carried them a mile or so mine
felt like a ton. Although Juan was only half my size and his pack
was heavier than mine, he neither complained about its weight nor
showed signs of fatigue.
The trail we were following crossed and recrossed a small river.
I could see why anything more than a loincloth would have been
a burden to Juan. I discarded my shirt, jumper, and riding breeches,
but Juan picked them up, saying that higher in the mountains it
would be cold at night. Each time we crossed the stream I had
to take off the boots and empty out the water, but the leeches had
already convinced me that the boots were a good idea in spite of
their weight.
At about four oclock we saw smoke in a nearby gully. Leaving
his pack with me, Juan went on to investigate. He returned a few
minutes later grinning excitedly. The Negrito men of his mothers
band were just over the hill robbing a bee tree, and their camp
was not far distant. Juan assured me that the Negrito lads would
carry our packs to the camp, so I left my pack with his and we
started out for the bee hunt.
Ten minutes later we broke in on a very odd sight. The honey
was high up in a tree which had been covered by a growth of
parasitic vines so thick they had killed their host. Already the tree
JUAN OF BATAAN
37
was beginning to rot. The bees had built their combs in a crack
halfway up its massive fluted trunk. Surrounding this crack, and
just below it, were a half-dozen Negritos. From a distance I thought
they were monkeys whose tails had been set alight by the natives,
creating a smudge and causing them to scramble about. As we
came nearer, the smoking tails proved to be long bundles of dried
grass, bound up in green leaves anu hanging from the loincloths
of the Negritos. In spite of this, a few of the bees had found their
way to the Negritos bodies, which explained their jerky, monkey
like movements and their yelps of pain. Comb after comb of the
honey was handed down along the trunk to the natives below, who
like those above, had long bundles of leaves on their loincloths
belching out smoke to protect them from the angry bees.
When the combs had all been lifted out, the Negritos scrambled
down the tree and gathered about us. Nearly all of them had re
ceived a few stings. Naked except for their loincloths, they were
a comical-looking crew, with swollen lips and eyes, and ears puffed
out from their heads. The pain of the bee stings did not dampen
their cordiality. Juan explained to them that the white mans greet
ing was to shake hands, and each man stepped forward to be in
troduced. Most of them were a little shorter and darker than Juan,
ranging from a deep chocolate brown to black, with the same wellproportioned, heavily muscled bodies. They looked like a small
edition of American Negroes I had met, with the same tendency
to be cheerful and jolly. At least half of them had patches of scaly
ringworm on their smooth, dark skin, and some were covered with
it from head to foot, as though they were encased in the skin of
a lizard.
The lads smiled shyly and looked at the ground, but the old men
greeted me with dignity. Juan pulled out a handful of our finely
shredded tobacco, and cigarettes were rolled from leaves which
the Negritos produced from their lumpy loincloths. Soon we were
smoking happily, but I was astonished to find that all the Negritos
smoked their cigarettes with the lighted end in the mouth. Juan
explained that this left no glow to be seen at night by an enemy.
Once you get used to smoking that way, you cant taste the
tobacco if you smoke from the other end, he said. He told me
that I would have to smoke in that fashion myself, or I would be
a target for any possible enemies lurking in the shadows. I took a
few puffs. The Negritos rolled upon the ground with laughter as
38
I coughed and spat out the ashes. At once we were the best of
friends.
When the boys arrived with our packs, we set out together for
their clearing. The boy carrying my pack was less than three feet
high, and looked like an ant carrying a grasshopper. I glanced
questioningly at Juan.
Its not nearly as heavy as a deer, he answered. In order to
live, we must be strong. He would take great offense if you insisted
on carrying it, or said it was too heavy for him.
The Negrito idea of a short distance was not the same as mine.
Before we had traveled an hour, darkness filled the jungle trail like
a great blot of ink, and the old men lighted torches made from
bundles of long dry grass. As we entered the clearing, the women
and the old men at the camp scurried off into the jungle. Amid
shouting and laughter, they were persuaded to come back while
Juan put up my tent and hung my mosquito net.
Twenty little shacks were set in a rough circle around the edge
of a small jungle clearing, not more than thirty paces across. The
floors of these shacks were made of split bamboo poles rolled out
flat upon crosspieces raised about two feet from the ground. The
backs and sides consisted of giant ferns lashed to the uprights with
vines. Wild banana leaves, overlapping like long shingles, made the
roofs. The inner side of each shack was open to the fire in the
center of the clearing. The Negritos put the same kind of bamboo
frame and light bamboo flooring beneath my tarpaulin, explaining
that centipedes and snakes would crawl up into the tent, seeking
the warmth of my body, unless the floor was off the ground. Every
body pitched in and the ingeniously fashioned framework was
completed in a few minutes.
Juan gave each family a handful of salt in exchange for honey
comb. Combs which contain larvae are an even greater delicacy
than honey. I was handed one of these, not knowing what it was.
Juan saw my disgusted look as I bit into it and whispered to me
that I must eat all of it, or the Negritos would think I was not one
of them and might even suspect me of poisoning their food with
magic. For this they would kill me.
I chewed the comb and tried to smile as the larvae wriggled in
my mouth.
FOUR
Spirit Cave on Pinatoba
JLHE supplies the district health

officer had given us included sulphur and lard, salicylic acid,
quinine, and other drugs. We had gladly volunteered to distribute
these medicines among the Negritos.
Juan had agreed with the health officer that his people would
be pleased if I could cure the skin diseases which plagued most
of them from childhood to old age, and if I could relieve, even
temporarily, their other aches and pains. Since we wanted them
to take our tests, we had to do something for them; the easiest way
was to give them free medicine.
Both Perez and Beyer had warned me that I must make no move
among these people which looked like black magic. In giving me
the medicines, the health officer had cautioned me against treating
anyone who was seriously ill. If someone is about to die when
you treat him, and your medicine doesnt save him, the Negritos
will blame you for his death and wont let you do anything for
anyone else, he said. Its happened before. Thats one reason
they still ,have scabies, ringworm, and the other infectionsthey
wont let us take care of them.
Since I intended to give them suggestibility tests, he felt that,
39
40
with hypnosis, I might be able to persuade the most suggestible

to take the medicines, where all their methods had failed. If I used
it wrong, of course, theyd mourn my loss. But no one else would
get into trouble, since I was not asking for police protection and
was going into the territory at my own risk. In the mountains, the
ancient Negrito law of the blood feud still prevailed, and the Ne
gritos would be obliged to kill me if anyone happened to die just
after I treated him and they thought I was responsible for the
death.
It would take a few days at best for Western chemicals to im
prove the condition of the Negrito skin, I decided, even if, through
hypnotic suggestion, I could assuage or eliminate the burning pain
of applying the salicylic acid.
I studied the group by the firelight, while they ate honeycomb,
tubers, and jungle fruit for their evening meal. An aspirin and a
mild sedative might work immediately to relieve headache or rheu
matic pain, and the cure might be permanent if I could reinforce
the medicine with suggestion. From working with Indians I sus
pected that the first few cases I chose would determine my prestige
with this group, and with any groups I met through them.
As we ate, Juan explained to them that I was a medicine man, and
inquired if any of them were suffering from pains in the head or
joints. Several of the older men admitted that they had pains, but
they looked so scrawny that I was seized with the conviction that
any of them might drop dead at any minute.
I chose as first subject a stocky, middle-aged Negrito named
Pana, who complained of a headache which had bothered him, off
and on, since childhood. His skin was free of the scaly ringworm.
His eyes were clear and his hair not yet white.
I gave him aspirin and a mild sedative. Juan persuaded him to
lie down on the bamboo floor of his hut. I knew the drug would
make him sleepy within a half hour and that I should be able to
produce a hypnotic state if I went on giving him suggestions of
relaxation and drowsiness in a monotonous voice and Juan trans
lated in the same sort of voice.
Tell him that this medicine I have given him is very strong,
so strong that it will make him drowsy. It can only do its best
work if he allows himself to go to sleep. Tell him to look at one
spot on the ceiling.
SPIRIT CAVE ON PINATOBA
41
Juan translated, succeeding very well in reproducing my monot
onous tones. I snapped the dial on my stop watch and we began.
Pana looked scared and nervous and his eyes very wide-awake
as they came to rest on the spot above him.
In a minute and a half his eyelids were beginning to tremble and
droop. In three minutes they were shut. I knew the drug had had
no time to take effect. The indirect suggestion that the strong
medicine would make him sleepy and the direct suggestion that
his eyes were closing had produced this effect. In order to prove
scientifically this was hypnosis, 1 would have to demonstrate that
he could not open his eyes when challenged to do so.
Tell him that his eyelids are locked shut, that he cannot open
them even if he tries.
Immediately I knew I had made a mistake. A murmur ran
through the crowd of spectators. Pana tugged at his eyelids, and
when he found they held fast, he went on struggling harder and
harder to open them.
He thinks hes in your power now-so that you can work black
magic on him, and he wont stop struggling to open his eyes, said
Juan in a scared voice.
Tell him that he can open them now, I answered, noticing
frowns of disapproval on all the faces about me.
Panas eyes came open, but I had had no chance to suggest that
his headache was getting better. I had succeeded in creating the
one impression about black magic that Beyer, Perez, and the health
officer had warned me against.
Juan was disturbed, and I fancied I could see suspicion and
mistrust in all the other faces. This was* calamity. They would
probably not take the medicines if I did not use suggestion, and
without suggestion, the Emotional Response Test, which I con
sidered the heart of my whole program, could not be checked in
a trance state. Somehow I must correct the impression that I wished
to get these people in my power, where they would be subject to
black magic. Immediately I must try again, using the agreement
trance which had worked so well with the children in Utah.
I had found in Utah that a drowsy, half-sifeep trance state could
be produced by asking, rather than commanding, the children to
relax and re-experience and describe the emotionally charged in
cidents my test questions brought to mind. This trance state was

42
brought about through agreement, rather than submission. There
fore, I described it as the agreement, rather than the hypnotic,
trance. It worked much easier than hypnosis, especially on people
who leaned backward when I told them they were leaning forward
as a part of the suggestibility test. This negative response to com
mand suggestion occurred with all of the Utah children and with
people who were afraid. I would have to try again, using persuasion
with Pana instead of hypnotic command. Whatever I did I could
not make things worse than they stood now.
Now explain to Pana that he has seen the power of the medicine
to create sleep, and has learned that he need not be afraid of this
sleep, since he can come out of it at any time, I said to Juan. Tell
him to let his eyes go to sleep again so we can help him discover
and remove the cause of his headache. As Panas eyes became
heavy and flickered shut, I said, Now you can go deeper into the
sleep world and into the past, and discover the color of your head
ache.
Both in Utah and in Hawaii I had found that looking at an
imaginary color or image had somewhat the same effect in deepen
ing the agreement trance as looking at a whirling disc had in induc
ing hypnosis.
He says its this color, answered Juan, picking out a purple
skein from my color samples. There is no Negrito word for it,
but there are blossoms and berries of this color which he has
mentioned.
Pana began to shiver and whimper.
He has malaria, said Juan. All of us have it as children, but
we get over it at the age of five or six, about the time we put on
our loincloths. It must be the spirit of malaria which is causing him
the headache.
This was exciting. It looked as though the fever pattern of
malaria had gone on causing Pana headaches long after the germs
which had originally caused them had been killed off inside his
body. Juan was referring to this pattern as the malaria spirit. Per
haps Pana had headaches caused by emotional conflicts which had
tied up with and perpetuated the fever pattern.
Now I want you to go way way back, Pana, to find when the
pain spirit entered you, when you first met the headache spirit. Will
you go back?
Pana said he would, and gradually curled up. I am not bom yet
43
when the pain spirit first visits me, he said, groaning and writh
ing.
Ask him if he wants to come back, Juan, I said, with a feeling
that calamity had overtaken me and that Pana was perhaps breath
ing his last.
Oh no, that would not be right, answered Juan. He has met
the pain spirit and now he must conquer it. Then it will stop hurt
ing him and be his helper. He will become a shaman. He is in the
spirit world now, in the cave on Pinatoba in which he lived be
fore he was bom. It is a high mountain to the north and looks like
a cone. If he cannot best the pain spirit himself, the spirits of the
other shamans will help him, but no Negrito would want to come
out of the spirit cave before he had conquered the spirit which
made him ill, and before receiving a song from him. He is talking
to the spirit now.
The violence of the seizure had run its course, and the deep
lines of pain had disappeared from Panas face. The gasping, groan
ing, guttural sound, which seemed an octave below ordinary
speech, was giving way to falsetto gibberish. It sounded like the
speaking with tongues I had heard occasionally in religious meet
ings, when people were said to be possessed by the Holy Ghost.
Would Pana bring us a message back from Tolandian?
Whats he saying? I inquired of Juan at last.
He hears tapping and voices, Juan answered. His father and
mother ar* quarreling. She must not bury the tubers until the child
is bom; She must dig up the ones she has buried already or he will
not be able to come out. Now there is tapping again. It hurts his
ears.
Now an old man had come forward and was talking to the
entranced Pana. The old shaman is telling him that the tapping
spirit wants to give him a drum rhythm, said Juan.
Panas body quivered spasmodically as though in time with the
rhythm he was hearing. Another old shaman joined the first and
spoke encouragingly to the subject, clapping in rhythm with Panas
twitching muscles.
Pana is saying the word thunder, said Juan. The thunder
spirit is giving him the rhythm. Now he is getting the words of
his song. It is enough, oh thunder; it is enough; it is enough. I
admit my guilt. It is enough.
Ask Pana what kind of voice the thunder spirit has, I directed.
44
It sounds like his fathers fathers older brothers voice, said

Juan. He is hearing it inside the cave. The next time the thunder
spirit comes, it will give him a dance. But he is too tired now, he
wants to come back from the cave. You must invite him to come
back now.
By all means, I answered.
The old men slapped Panas cheeks, saying he should not forget
the words of the song or the drum rhythm as he came up from the
spirit cave. Pana writhed again for a few minutes and opened his
eyes, apparently none the worse for the experience.
For my record I must also have his dreams, I said to Juan.
Ask him what is the worst dream he can remember.
A black cloud chasing me, he answered. IVe had it many
times. Sometimes I was alone, sometimes with the group. The
black cloud growled and muttered with the voice of thunder. Al
ways I woke up expecting the lightning to strike me. Pana re
membered other dreams or nightmares of black things pursuing
him.
His best dream was of a man. The body looked like his father,
but he had the head of a horse, light in color, with the mane hanging
down in front of his face. He had seen the Filipinos riding horses
along the borders of the Negrito territory. This dream character,
which he called a dwindi, had picked him up in his dream and
soared through the air with him, showing him strange places where
game could be found. Later it had visited him when he was awake,
and he had gone off with it alone into the jungle on some very suc
cessful hunfs. His wife had seen the dwindi one night when it called
for him. To break the spell, she had rubbed her naked buttocks all
over her husbands body. After that the dwindi had come no more.
Pana had beaten his wife for using this magic to scare it away, but
his spirit friend had never returned.
I remember what Pana was like when I was a child, said Juan.
He used to beat his wife and his children. The Negritos think this
is very bad. They say a father should never beat his children.
Sometimes he would get mad at everyone and challenge other men
to duels. This is a great trouble among the Negritos because both
men must always die if a duel begins. Thats why nobody would
fight with him. They called him Thunder Voice when he got
mad.
I wondered if the Negritos saw a difference between the dream
45
thunder which had attacked Pana, and the thunder which all of
them could hear while awake. Juan had told me that the thunder
was the angry voice of Tolandian.
When Pana was dreaming of the thundercloud chasing him
and the group, was Tolandian angry at him and the other Negri
tos? I inquired.
Oh yes, answered Juan. Someone had probably done some
thing to make Tolandian angry.
But how could Pana and all the rest of them be running from
Tolandians rage at the same time that they were all sleeping? I
asked.
Juan was a little puzzled about this and inquired of the old men.
They say that your spirit can run away from the thunder even
when you are asleep, Juan answered. But often you cant remem
ber what your spirit does at night.
They didnt make a clear distinction, then, between themselves
and their imagesthe images pf them which ran around in Panas
mindor between Tolandians voice, which rang out from the
heavens, and the voice which issued from Panas dream giant. If
Pana had dreamed that a neighboring group was attacking them
through magic, they might have made war with the group, and
this aggressive nightmare spiritthis dream giantof Panas would
have been the cause of the war. This failure to differentiate the ob
ject from the image was a serious flaw in the Negrito thinking
which might at any time disrupt social harmony within the group
or between the Negritos and other groups.
My past experience in collecting dreams was beginning to pay
dividends, but the ministrations of the shamans, which helped Pana
to go on through the painful experience and to bring back a drum
rhythm and a song, were psychotherapy of a type I had not en
countered before. I, as operator, had put Pana into a trance be
fore the group. This was to them an acceptable method of therapy,
obviously not out of line with their own tradition. Then the other
shamans had felt at liberty to offer their assistance to the en
tranced subject, which resulted in group psychotherapy in a new
sensea group of therapists working on one patient. Whatever
was said by the therapist or by the patient was heard by all the
other Negritos, which would build up an expectancy in them that
their own headaches, or other physical symptoms, could be cured
in a similar manner.
46
This type of procedure would educate the whole group in the

ideas and methods of psychotherapy. I had expected to see more
mumbo-jumbo, more suggestion, and less meaningful social co
operation. The results achieved in the trance state which I had in
duced were much like those obtained by the then new psycho
therapy being employed in Paris and in Vienna. The Negrito
therapists were helping the patient to contact patterns and inci
dents from a long-forgotten past, painful incidents buried deep in
the early time layers of the accumulated experience which made
up the personality. Without surprise, they acceptedat face value
the patients statement that the thunder and the painful quarrel
had occurred before he was bom.
In modern therapy there was a corresponding practice of con
tacting and becoming conscious of painful forgotten experiences
while in the trance state. The chief difference here was in the
amount of pressure put upon the patient to go through these painful
events. Some of the children I knew in the Training School in
Utah had told of similar experiences. When I had helped them, in
the drowsy trance state, to go back to earlier and earlier incidents,
by asking, What was the worst thing that happened before this
incident you have just related? they had found such painful and
fearful incidents that I had been afraid to encourage them to go on
through them as the Negrito shamans had just done. I had no
precedent from Western therapy to urge them on into what looked
like an epileptic fit, whereas controlling and utilizing these painful
seizures was routine procedure for these preliterate people.
But there was a second feature of the Negrito healing, which was
entirely new to me and which was even more exciting than the
idea that the patient must go on through the painful event once
he had contacted it. The Negrito shaman directed the patient to
bring back from the trance state a creative product in the form
of music, rhythm, posture, and words. He was asked to stay in
the painful event until some indwelling force, which the shamans
called a spirit, supplied music for the words he heard from the spirit
cave, put the words into some sort of meter like a poem, and at
tached this music and meter to a series of motor sets, muscular
actions, and postures, which we call a dance.
In the West the theory had been adopted that neurosis blocked
off mans creativeness. This Negrito healing ceremony seemed a
direct support of that theory, and these Negrito healers were not
SPIRIT GAVE ON PINATOBA
47
leaving things to chance. They were requesting that the area of
the personality which had formerly expressed itself as conflict,
rage, and migraine headache change itself into music, poetry, and
dancingon the spot, as it were. In the healing ceremony itself
they were requesting that the subject transform the pain into that
which was socially significant and beautiful. The astonishing thing
was that the patient obligingly complied with their requests. Since
he would reproduce the music, words, and dance on future occa
sions, whenever he asked the help of this newly acquired force or
spirit, there was no danger that this new area of the personality,
which he had conquered with the help of the ceremony, would
slip back into the limbo of the subconscious and change itself again
into pain after the ceremony was completed.
In the West, investigators were experimenting with automatic
writing done in a trance state, and were aware of the fact that
certain men, Beethoven, for instance, awoke from sleep with
musical or mathematical ideas already written out in their minds.
But nowhere in the civilized world was this creativeness in sleep
and in the half-sleep trance encouraged and guided through social
co-operation to the same extent as among these preliterate Negri
tos. Here it was an accepted idea that every member of the group
should see and understand the practice of psychotherapy from in
fancy, and that every member of the group was eligible to become
a psychotherapist without any specialized training, except what he
received himself through psychotherapy. The very forces that
made him sick should become a will, an urge, a drive to heal others.
Here healing was regarded not as a guild or priestcraft or secret
knowledge, but as the social heritage of all who had suffered
illness and received treatment.
Since the Negritos were not surprised when Pana announced on
awakening that his headache was well, it seemed obvious that such
cures were not unusual. I was now established as a medicine man
and given credit for the cure, even though I had not known enough
to tell Pana to go on through the harrowing, fearful incident of
the thunder. Apparently, this incident had terrified him so much
at some time in his past life that it had disassociated or broken off
a fragment of his mind, or a layer of his experience, making this
inner pattern his enemy and the enemy of the group. Certainly I
would have to learn more of this native type of psychotherapy,
which the shamans had assumed I already knew. Now I could
48
breathe freely. I had allayed their suspicion of black magic and

could apply the medicines which, in a few days time, would pro
duce results on skin and eye infections which none of their psycho
therapists could accomplish.
Is there any other way of becoming a shaman except through
this type of spirit possession? I asked Juan.
I know of no other way, he answered. Not all people who
ro into trances become practicing shamans. But if their treatments
ast for any length of time, they usually do.
I felt excited. These trance states were not just a part of a re
current religious ceremonial. Here was a true psychology of heal
ing which was not fifty thousand years behind Western civiliza
tion. In some respects it seemed ahead. How many shamans are
there in the group? I inquired.
Juan spoke with the old men. Out of the twenty-odd adults,
there were four men and a woman who were shamans, and two
others who had had treatments over a period of time which might
eventually make them healers. This was astonishing. Twenty per
cent of the adults had been successfully treated by this trance
method. Apparently the shaman was most successful with chromic
ailments, with which Western medicine had done so badly, rather
than with epidemic illnesses. If I should see nothing more among
the Negritos, I had already seen enough to make it worth whatever
price I would have to pay.
As the night wore on, the moon came up, making the clearing
take on the proportions of a coliseum. Then, as the moonlight faded
and the small trees around the clearing were lost in blackness, it
became a deep well with a patch of cold, glittering stars at the top,
and the warm little fire at the bottom. As I sat there, the fire seemed
friendly and more human than the Negritos. I felt myself leaning
toward it as a known element in this deep well of the unknown.
But there was also something familiar about the emerging pat
tern of Panas dreams and visions. If I thought hard enough and
fast enough about them, the bad storm giant and the good dwindi
seemed to help the fire bring more light into the blackness of the
well. This horse-faced dwindi had made Pana a famous hunter, a
leader in his horde. It had given him some sort of second sight,
made him a prophet who could lead the group to food, as Moses
had led the children of Israel out of Egypt and Joseph Smith had
led the Mormons to the west. But Panas white dream giant, which
49
had apparently made him wander around at night in a state of
trance, could not withstand an attack from the social world. His
wifes body, her words and gestures, had destroyed the dream
giant, or at least had locked it out from his consciousness. He could
no longer become aware of it. Neither could his black dream giant
withstand the attack of the shamans, once he had introduced it to
them in the trance state. With infinite cunning, they had teased,
threatened, and cajoled the mysterious inner force into co-operat
ing with them. They had made it express itself in words, in mus
cular rhythms, in groans and sobs. They had told it that their
friendly spirits would wage a relentless, never-ending war with it
in the dream life of the patient until it was destroyed, if it did not
give up hurting him and become a healing spirit. When Pana
awakened, the headache was gone. The presence of the shamans,
all of whom had themselves been healed, showed that these cures
could be made permanent, that once a black giant had been tamed
or harnessed, it would go on working henceforward for the patient
and the group, as the white dwindi had worked for him and the
other Negritos from the beginning.
From the point of vantage of another culture, I could look at
the Negrito as he had never looked at himself. I could see that
Panas supernormal gift had been stanched by his wifes posses
sive jealousy. He had never before been cured of the baleful effect
of his black giant by the shamans because he would not seek treat
ment. This black force had made him not only ill but at the same
time antisocial, to such an extent that he had refused to ask for
help. This inner world of the Negrito mind was beginning to seem
much less frightening than the darkness of sleep.
It grew later and later. I continued applying my home remedies,

accompanied by suggestion, leaving out the challenge of which the
Negritos did not approve and which they did not employ in their
own shamanistic trances. The subjects went rapidly into trance,
told me of the colors of their pain, and answered the questions of
my tests. Repeatedly I suggested in trance that the fiery acids and
iodine would feel good when applied to their tender, cracked skin.
Consistently, they awoke saying that the inflamed areas I had
painted felt good and comfortable. I could hardly believe them
myself, knowing how painful the treatment was while awake.
Shivers played up and down my spine, as one after another of
50
these little black men told of worlds unfolding before their tightly
shut eyes. Some of them were being chased by heads without
bodies. Arms without bodies grasped at others. Trees walked and
talked to them and fell upon them. In their minds women with
the heads of birds and the arms of crabs crawled from under the
logs of the jungle. Wild pigs brought them magic plants rooted
up from secret forest recesses.
One old shaman found himself on the back of a huge hombill,
flying joyfully over unknown mountains covered with cold white
stuff. His description of the snow and ice, which he had never seen
and perhaps never heard of before, filled me with an uncanny feel
ing that he was somehow picking my brain and talking about my
own experience.
As the night progressed, I got the impression that the mind of
the Negrito was not simple, as I had supposed, but formed a mosaic
of complications, and that in some way modem civilization might
make mans personality more simple and unified than it was among
the Negritos. Perhaps this would have something to do with Beyers
question of why the Negrito could not exist away from his land,
or adapt to new situations.
The women were much more reticent than the men on that first
night. When they saw that the medicines were strong enough to
induce sleep, all but one of them stayed in the background. Un, a
woman about thirty years old, the wife of a leader of the horde,
stepped forward to be treated for ringworm on the left side of
her neck. She was heavier and larger than most of the other women,
and extremely talkative. One minute she was shouting with anger,
the next, roaring with laughter. Her bulk and her bellow made
her the natural center of any cluster of people.
When Juan told her that she was going to sleep, she writhed as
though in the throes of an epileptic fit. He assured me that she
was a shamaness, and was experiencing a routine call from one of
her familiar spirits. Soon the struggles ceased, and sitting crosslegged on the bamboo floor of the hut, she made queer gestures
with her hands. The Negritos kept shouting in response to these
gestures, which to me had not the slightest meaning, and Juan ex
plained that she was possessed by a spirit which could not talk. It
communicated to the group, through her, by means of a deaf-anddumb language which Un had built up over a period of years, dur
ing frequent possessions.
51
What is she saying to the Negritos? I inquired.

The spirit has asked the people why it has been called here, who
you are, and what you want of it, answered Juan. They have
replied that you are a great shaman from across the ocean, that you
are my friend, that you are very rich, and that you have come to
the Negritos to teach them how to play American games, and to
give them tobacco to smoke, salt to eat, and white mans medicine.
Juan told her the medicine would feel warm and comfortable
on the ringworm, and painted it. The shamaness gave no evidence
that she felt the operation at all. Then Juan told me that her spirit
also wanted to know if I was ill and if it could serve me as a
physician. He said that this Negrito woman was one of the great
est healing shamans on the Bataan peninsula.
For a number of years I had had a little cyst under the skin of
my right forearm. I told Juan that it was a very painful lump, and
that I should like to know what caused it and how to get rid of it.
He conveyed the message to Un, the entranced woman. For the
next half hour the Negrito clearing resembled a circus. She Was
very resourceful, but she was talking about a subject quite outside
the ordinary routine which these deaf-and-dumb gestures had to
portray. Each time she made a gesture, the observers shouted the
meaning they gleaned from it. At times, there were three or four
different interpretations.
At last Juan said that the lump on my arm was caused by the
spirit of a womanmy motherand that my umbilical cord had
not been cut with the correct ceremonial procedure. The magic
of the midwife had not been strong enough to sever the spiritual
cord, and instead of separating from me at birth, the cord had
pulled one of my mothers spirits out of her into my own body.
To make it worse, it was on my right, the masculine side, instead
of on my left, where all feminine spirits should reside after puberty.
She would cut the cord with her magic so the spirit could get out,
but perhaps it had grown so used to its present home that it would
now refuse to leave even after the cord was severed. In that event
it would have to be driven from my body by further treatment,
perhaps by a long series of treatments.
If I would bind sweet-smelling herbs on my left arm and put
some sort of local stinkweed over the bump on the right, I might
persuade the spirit to go to the left side, where it would do me no
damage. If the stinkweed did not work, I might bind over the lump

5*
a mixture of burnt hair and the droppings of wild chicken, which
had an intolerable odor.
As she communicated in this wild deaf-and-dumb fashion, I kept
getting the uncanny feeling that Un was talking hot about a spirit,
but about an imagethat her mind was reverberating with and
sensing something inside me. Mrs. Hartendorp had felt the same
thing through her intuition. I had lied when I said there was pain
in the cyst, but in any event Uns gestures did not locate the pain
there. Whenever she spoke of my pain, she clutched her big round
naked breast on the left side, over her heart. Each time she did, I
felt like a rejected infant, with a lump in my throat and tears burn
ing their way through my eyelids. Each time her supple hands drew
a picture of the spirit which was eating up my heart, they produced
the image of a young woman, dressed in old-fashioned clothing.
It was as though I caught a glimpse of something in me which was
frozen stiff, and had been for a long long time.
Now this strange doctor was thawing me out somehow, and
filling me with a vague, painful longing. Now the young womans
face had serenely closed eyes which made her appear like the death
mask of the Buddha. Now it was a sculptured image of the pure es
sence of pain, now of sorrow, now compassion. But in each there
was a haunting suggestion of my mother. Some Western curse of
false pride was demanding that I must not feel too much, that I
must not let go, that I must not express my feelings and let myself
writhe and moan and cry as the Negritos did.
The treatment had at least succeeded in pulling a feminine image
from my side and planting it squarely in the middle of me, where
it was beginning to obscure completely the face of the shamaness,
or to remold it into some ancient face that I had known before.
With an effort I turned to Juan.
Tell the spirit that the pain is gone, that the treatment has suc
ceeded, and I have entirely recovered, and that now I would like
to obtain the spirit guides autobiography. My voice broke the
tension of the trance as a foot goes through a spiders web woven
across a trail. As I turned back to look at her, the figure sitting crosslegged on the platform had lost its luminous quality and shrunk to
the size of a Negrito, with a dirty, tear-stained face and frizzy hair.
She was shaking her head sadly and making signs which meant I
was mistaken. I was not yet well. In vain the group tried to per
suade me to go on with the treatment until the spirit guide released
53
me, but I was adamant. Only my intellect had life. She shrugged
her shoulders, making signs which her audience had the delicacy
of feeling not to interpret.
Indeed, those gestures needed no interpretation since they con
vinced me with cold certainty that I was a fool. Then Un made a
sign which the others said meant that the spirit was willing to tell
me what I wished to know about itself. Through her weird, quaint
gestures, she conveyed the data that I asked for. When Un saw it
entering or leaving her, it looked like a newborn baby, like her
younger brother, who was bom when she was three. Yet it was as
big as a man. It had entered Un when her younger brother was
bom, but lay sleeping inside her until about the time of her first
menstrual period. At menstruation it had started biting her stom
ach, making it bum and ache, until five or six years later, when
she had begun to cough up blood. Then a shaman had treated her.
There had been great difficulty because the baby spirit had not
learned to talk before it left the spirit world. It was willing to
stop biting and to help its mistress become a shaman, but it had
difficulty in telling her and the other Negritos so because it could
not talk.
If Un did not find work for it to do, the spirit marched rest
lessly about inside her, but it had not bitten her since it had started
talking the deaf-and-dumb language. When Un was born, it also
had come out of the spirit cave, but it had just played around as
a baby until her younger brother was bom. Un haa cried a lot at
that time because her mother was tending her baby brother. Her
crying had attracted the spirit. She had held her mouth open so
wide when she cried that it was able to get inside. It had thought
the wide-open mouth was the spirit cave from which it had
strayed.
Now it was tired and asked permission to leave. Un opened her
eyes with a dazed expression, rubbed them a little, and turned
sheepishly to another woman to inquire about the behavior of her
guide in the presence of the white man. Apparently she never knew
anything of what happened in her trance state except as it was
recounted to her after she was awakened. I felt that this baby guide
was a most obliging fellow, and wondered how accurately the
group had interpreted the lightning gestures by which it had re
counted its autobiography and explained my spiritual ailment.
Now everyone sat with his mouth open, looking from her to

54
me. Suddenly it dawned on them that even this powerful healing
spirit had come and gone at my bidding.
They are speaking about the friendly attitude the spirit guide
had toward you, said Juan. Now all of them know what a great
medicine man you are.
Despite my mistake of telling Pana he could not open his eyes,
Western science had vindicated itself, and my reputation as a great
shaman was established.
Already it was past midnight, but the fire was replenished. No
one, not even the children, showed any signs of being ready to go
to sleep. I soon learned that every day was Sunday for the Negri
tos, if they wished to make it so, and that the night was for them
a time of sociability and group expression. Often they went hungry,
neglecting food for the body as they searched themselves and one
another for this creative nutriment of the soul.
Now a young man came for medicine whose trance expression

largely determined my fate for weeks to come. His father had died
the year before, and as was the custom with the Negritos, had been
buried in a nearby jungle spot which all the group took great pains
to avoid. They explained to me that they even tried to forget where
they had buried their dead, and were relieved when the teeming
jungle plants had obliterated all evidence of the grave. They did
not like to think or talk about ghosts.
However, they never expected the ghost to cease visiting the
group until a banquet had been given in his honor. For people who
were not important, a small banquet would suffice. In the case of
Ogong, the young Negrito before me, the father had been a very
important man, and he would therefore require a large feast.
The funeral feast is never held until the ghost has returned a
number of times in dreams or visions. The ghost gives instructions
to the living person responsible for the feast and comes to an agree
ment with him. Then the ghost requests that the feast be held.
Ogong had had a number of dreams of his father. The last two
had terrified him, making him feel ashamed that he had not col
lected more food for the funeral feast. Now he was afraid to go
to sleep.
From his general state of tension I should have known there was
trouble ahead. When he struggled to keep his eyes from closing,
I suspected that he would see something violent and disturbing,
55
and I considered discontinuing. But one subject who did not go
into the trance state at my bidding might lead to many more. I
would have to run the risk of controlling whatever forces I un
leashed, or lose prestige. At last Ogongs eyes snapped shut, and
he saw purple lights that hurt him. From past experience, I knew
this would lead to a physical pain or a violent conflict, but I was
too curious to act prudently and wake him up.
The skin on his face quivered, and I could see that the muscles
beneath were slowly transforming his expression. A murmur ran
through the assembled Negritos. Then all were silent as Ogong
began to talk. The whole group looked as though it were ready to
take off to the jungle. Perspiration glistened on Juans forehead,
and his voice trembled as he explained to me that it was not Ogong
speaking, but the ghost of his dead father. All the people recognized
the voice and were terrified.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Juan gasped. They are all saying
that Ogongs face has become his fathers mask.
Tell me what the ghost is saying, I asked with vexation, an
noyed by Juans violent trembling and the chattering of his teeth.
His own appearance, more dead than alive, would, I knew, induce
no confidence in the Negritos. We must talk to him and ask him
what he wants, I said to Juan, trying to appear calm. Dont be
afraid. The ghost cant hurt you, but it may cause us much trouble
if you dont keep it under control. Speak up and ask him what
he wants. Despite my show of assurance, I felt shivers going up
and down my spine at the transformation in Ogongs voice and
face.
The ghost is telling all the Negritos that Ogong must have a
big feast for him very soon or calamity will befall them, Juan
said, stammering with fear. He is very angry with his son because
his son has been lazy since his death. Ogong did not follow the
advice his father gave him in dreams, and did not get enough
food for the funeral feast, so the father could be at-one with his
son. >
Ask him where he has been living since his death, I said. All
my life I had wanted to talk to a ghost, and this was my first
opportunity.
After stuttering a bit, the ghost answered, I have been liv
ing in the spirit world, but I am still bound to my grave. I have
been watching over the Negritos. My son has been very stubborn

56
and slow to come to at-oneness with my spirit and to prepare the
feast which will release me from the earth. I have been waiting for
the feast that will release me, so I can live happily beneath the
mountain with the other spirits.
An idea occurred to me. If I could help out a bit with the
funeral feast, I might persuade this group to invite all the Negri
tos in the Bataan district to the festival, and I might give them my
tests then. I could do much more work in one place than traveling
about.
Ask the ghost if he would like me to help his son with the
funeral feast and to take part in it with him, I said to Juan.
The idea was very agreeable to the spirit and to all the assembled
Negritos. They had not been pleased by this trance-induced visit
of the ghost into their camp, but if I were to take charge and help
with the feastwhich would release Ogongs father from his
earthly vigileverything might turn out for the best. I wanted to
ask the ghost many more questions, but after the matter of the
feast was disposed of, Juan told me that the spirit was impatient and
did not wish to stay any longer.
The change which Ogongs face had undergone gave him the
appearance of a haggard old man. Deep lines and innumerable small
wrinkles appeared in his skin. When Juan gave the ghost permis
sion to leave, Ogongs face again relaxed and he assumed his normal
expression. We assured him that he would feel warm inside and
very happy after he awoke. Juan blew on his eyelids. As Ogong
sat up, the camp was full of excitement.
Already dawn was beginning to disperse the jungle blackness
to the east. I rolled up in my blanket. As I fell asleep, I could still
hear the Negritos talking excitedly about the spirit possession.
Some of the old men had seen or heard of such things before, but
it was a notable and rare event when a spirit of the dead possessed
the body and molded the face and voice of the living.
Juan was deeply shaken at coming to such close grips with the
supernatural. I tried to explain to him that the outside world
was reflected in the mind of every person. Ogong had a living,
talking, breathing photograph of his father in his brain. This pic
ture could affect his expressive muscles. When awake, he could
remember his father and imitate him a little. The father part of
himself could appear to him and speak in dreams. In the dreams he
could get a clear image of his father. In the trance state he could
57
express that image accurately in his voice and features because he

was neglecting the outside world.
I did not have much success with this explanation, but Juan felt
that I could control the ghost and that I was not afraid of it. That
gave him confidence and seemed to make him feel safe while he
was near me. I noticed that from then on he took even greater care
to look out for my personal safety. If he was to play around with
ghosts, he was taking no chances on losing his ally.
As I went to sleep, I thought about Ogongs personality. Cer
tainly his image of his father had become obsolete with his fathers
death. This inner image could no longer help him to adapt to his
father in the physical world, since his physical father was gone from
the world. The facet of his personality which had been molded
into the image of his father was now attacking him in his dreams,
and had expressed itself in the trance through his vocal and facial
muscles. But all the people of his tribe and, therefore, their images
in his mind, were willing to help him neutralize the force of
this dream father and somehow unify it with their images in the
at-onement feast.
The tribe had exercised somewhat the same type of power over
the images of his mother and his female relatives when his growth
had changed him from a submissive child to a responsible man. The
group had done this by the puberty ceremony of scarification and
circumcision. All the men had scar designs on their arms and chests
which Juan had explained were acquired during adolescence. These
designs were caused by making little cuts in the skin and rubbing
ashes into them. The scarification meant, according to Juan, that
the boy was being cut away from his dependence on the women
of the group. Part of this cutting process the boy had to perform
himself by going out alone, at a certain point in the ceremonial,
and thrusting the end of his hunting knife beneath his foreskin
and giving it a sharp blow with a piece of wood. After that the
mother no longer asked her son to carry water or do other house
hold tasks. After that he was a man of authority in the group.
Not only, therefore, did he have fewer social images to compli
cate his feeling of self-consciousness than a Westerner, but with
the help of these inherited formal ceremonies, he had the benefit
of social action to neutralize the images as they became nonadaptive or obsolete through growth, change, and death. He also had
the help of a group healing ceremony when accident and shock
58
chanced to make visual or sound patterns from the social world into
enemy dream giants.
This made Dr. Beyers problem all the more vexing. Why should
the Negrito become homesick and physically ill when he was re
moved from his little group and his land? Why was he so unable
to change either his environment or himself? Why should the
whole inner show of the Negrito stop working when he left his
customary environment?
I seemed to be getting further away from, rather than nearer to,
a solution to this problem. Did the Negrito inherit a less unified,
less adaptable psyche than that of Western man? Or did the
Negrito fail to adapt to new situations because of the way he used
his words and numbersbecause he lacked some of the unifying
ideals and concepts built up by the civilized world? Perhaps my
tests and dream collections would throw some light on this field,
and enable me to determine if the lack of adaptability was in the
Negritos nature, or could be explained on the basis of nurture.
FIVE
Hunting-and-Gathering Magic
W
L , I awoke a few hours
later the Negritos had not been to sleep at all. Juan and I dis
cussed the feast with them, and I contributed a few pesos toward
a bag of rice and a keg of wine. Preparations moved rapidly. It was
to be the biggest affair of its kind in years. Young men were dis
patched in every direction to invite neighboring groups to partici
pate. Accumulated rattan and beeswax were taken down to the
Lowlands to be traded for rice, fish, wine, and other delicacies.
Large-scale hunts for wild pig and deer were organized to build up
the meat supply.
One woman in the group, who was a cousin of the Negrito King
Alfonso, sent her boy off to invite His Negrito Highness to par
ticipate in the funeral feast. The title of King had been given to
Lucas, Alfonsos father, a few years before, when he was asked by
the Army authorities at Fort Statesenburg to call a council of the
Negrito chieftains, the lineage heads of the various hordes ranging
in the mountains above the Fort. Lucas persuaded so many of the
different groups to send representatives to the council that the
Army men dubbed him King.
5 9
6o
The Negritos had never known any type of social organization

which brought unity among the small nomadic hordes. The title
meant to them that Lucas was a representative of the United States
Army. But the Filipinos were so impressed by it that they kept on
calling him King Lucas, and when he died Alfonso inherited both
his title and his function of maintaining contact between the Ne
gritos and the United States Army. His coming to the ceremony
would give the little group prestige. At the same time, his official
visit would bring with it a liberal supply of food, which the Army
was only too glad to distribute through him.
My first task was to have Juan take all the tests and decide on
the Negrito words to be used for the instructions in each one, and
then to learn those words myself, so I could be sure he was not
deviating from them.
The Negritos often played games, and Juan rapidly got the idea
of testing. His next task was to devise a way to locate the fiveyear-old children of the group. There had been a flood some five
and a half years before, and we included in the five-year group all
the children whose mothers had been pregnant with them at the
time of the flood. I was astonished and exasperated at the Negrito
disregard for time, and the way the years seemed to slip away
from their mind without leaving impressions which they could
locate, but the taboos of pregnancy and the terrific rains leading
up to the floods, which had made the food quest difficult for them,
were two facts which tied themselves together indelibly in their
minds.
We found seven children in the five-year group. After a week of
training and preparation with Juan, the first child was seated at a
table before us. We had gone out of our way to play with the
children an hour each day, and to show them the stop watch and
the toys, so they would not be too shy when the testing program
was started. I sat beside Juan, pretending to look at a book, and
watched him administer the tests. Not once did I have to break
into the procedure. All of the children made normal or abovenormal scores.
The five-year-old could remember almost as many dreams as
the Negrito adults, and about the same number as the average
American child of that age, and as the children of the other racial
groups I had tested in Hawaii. The same emotions, and about the
same number of dream characters, and the same types of dream
HUNTING-AND-GATHERING MAGIC
61
situations, were reported. The results in the Emotional Response

Test, the Progressive Fantasy Test, and the Sympathy Test were
also like those obtained with other groups.
Two weeks after my arrival, King Alfonso appeared, riding on
a castoff Army mule which was to be killed and roasted as part of
the feast.
The preparations for the ceremony turned out far better for my
testing program than I had hoped. Every day new Negritos ar
rived, and since I was contributing to the festival, they all felt
obliged to play my games, draw pictures for me, tell me their
dreams, and demonstrate their shamanistic healing powers.
As we found more subjects, the evidence from the first group
of seven was reaffirmed. On all the tests, the children of four, five,
and six made scores which did not differentiate them at all from
the American children, or from the children of the other five lan
guage groups I had tested in Hawaii. These children also reported
simple terror dreams and pleasure dreams identical with those of
the other groups. Dreams of falling, of being pursued by dogs,
pigs, snakes, smoke, fire, and monsters of one sort or another, and
dreams of eating, of finding fruit trees, flowers, and pets, and of
winning out in contests at the festival, were the most common.
Because of the poor Negrito memories, perhaps, or because of
their poor mathematics, or their unwillingness to think about the
matter, it was very difficult to obtain the ages of the children over
seven, so I despaired of getting any data on any of the tests which
would be comparable with the year-to-year age norms of the other
groups.
The Emotional Response Test of the adolescents showed the
same sort of trends, in the main, that I had found in Hawaii in the
age group from six to thirteen or fourteen. In both the Porteus
Maze Test and the Goodenough Draw-A-Man Test, the adoles
cents began to fall behind the American norms, because they began
to draw stick men, which represented the traditional Negrito way
of depicting a man, and because they insisted on telling me how a
real rat would act if he were set down on the test blank, rather than
how my imaginary rat should act to get out of the imaginary maze
trap. On the Metal Maze their scores showed no falling off, and
their dreams, like those of the Hawaiian and American groups,
grew more complex in structure, including more characters and
62
more of the complicated emotions such as shame, pride, jealousy,

and hatred, which were absent in the dreams of the younger chil
dren.
The test responses of the very young children soon convinced
me that the original endowment of the Negritos was not measur
ably different from that of other racial groups. By all my yard
sticks, the children came up to the specifications which would en
title them to be considered equal to other children in the sight of
God and the law.
The adult scores on the Goodenough Test were lower than the
adolescent scores. This drop reflected the fact that their culture
educated them against drawing the kind of man image which would
make a good score on the test. Their scores on the Metal Maze
went on climbing, and showed no inferiority to the adult scores I
had obtained in my clinic at Waikiki Beach. In this test the Ne
gritos did not have to remember instructions or act as though the
paper world were the real three-dimensional world. In the Metal
Maze they only had to remember where they had been and to
keep trying new trails until they found their way out.
The adults could do this better than the children or the adoles
cents, which indicated that their mental capacity to deal with
concrete things did not stop growing, and that the poor scores on
the other tests were the result of experience or education which
locked up, rather than developed, their capacity to do abstract,
reflective thinking.
A few days before the feast I participated in a deer hunt. The
assembled group went with their dogs into a near-by canyon,
formed a wide circle, and then gradually closed in on its center,
beating the jungle with sticks as they progressed. The men kept
up an incessant shouting, reinforced by the barking of their halfstarved dogs. A Filipino sergeant who had accompanied King
Alfonso had brought with him an Army rifle. He loaned it to me
for the hunt, and I got a lucky running shot into a wily buck which
had escaped the arrows and spears of the Negritos posted at the
mouth or the canyon. This large buck gave me prestige as a hunter
as well as a shaman, and since the Negritos also bagged two deer,
the hunt was very successful.
I didnt do as well on the pig hunts. The Negritos had located
a number of runs where the pigs came down to water, and had
63
watched these runs for days. They then surrounded the area,
which was used by the various sows with their half-grown litters,
and started up a din, knowing that most of the pigs would retreat
along the runs, as was their custom. But the country was so steep
and the jungle so dense that the pigs went by me before I could
aim. The ,few shots I did make scared the remaining pigs off the
runs into the jungle. The Negritos lay very still on the downwind
side of the narrow run, bracing the butts of their spears against
saplings, and lifting the sharp ends up into the pigs as they came
along, depending on the pigs own force to drive a spear through
him. If this didnt work, the Negrito hunter threw another spear
as the pig went by, and then ran down the trail a little, grabbing
spears which he had planted in readiness at various points. When
he reached an area covered by another hunter, he stopped. The
Negritos could run along the Little trails they had made for them
selves beside the pig run almost as fast as the pig himself.
I shot at one boar and missed him. The Filipino sergeant told me
not to shoot at any more full-grown boars. He cautioned that a
boar wounded in such close country is very likely to attack the
hunter, who had better then take to the trees.
A Negrito ceremony of some sort was connected with the
gathering and preparation of almost every type of food. Before
and after the pig hunt, the men did a pig dance. The night before
the women went out to look for shellfish, they performed a dance
which was half apology to the fish and half a charm to insure the
catch. Similarly, the men held a bee dance before and after the ex
peditions for honey. It was all right to eat the honey, or even the
larvae of the bee, but in order to maintain the balance of the inner
universe, the bee image in the mind of the Negrito had to give its
permission to be eaten, and had to be given thanks through a cere
mony after the event. Evidently the Negrito did not own the bee
image, even though the image was part of his mind. The bee image
had privileges and obligations similar to those of the Negritos. The
rhythm associated with the image of the bee had to be allowed
expression in the dance. The thoughts associated with the bee had
to be expressed as a song, with the bees voice and human words.
One old shaman went into trance, and the grandfather of all
bees spoke through him, with a song which Juan said he had re
ceived in a dream. The bee said proudly that he was a great doc-
64
tor, that he cured more than hungerhe had cured the shamans
cuts and bums with his honey, he had cured the sores and cuts of
others through the shaman, and he had cured the shamans swollen,
aching joints with the venom from his stings. By permitting this
expression of the bees attitudes and by thanking the bee in the
ceremony, the Negrito apparently took care of the image of the
bee so it would not molest him in his dreams or oppress his con
science.
Moreover, the songs in which the bee expressed pride as a doc
tor, a disinfector of wounds, a healer of aching joints, and a tech
nician who could waterproof a piece of bark cloth with his wax
these songs denoted an inner process similar to reflective thought.
They showed the mind of the Negrito going from cause to effect.
I, the spirit of the bee, can cure your wounds with my honey and
waterproof your bark cloth with my waxthese word patterns
had appeared in a dream; the central force which organized the
physical rhythms of the Negrito as he slept was also working on
the patterns associated with the bee, producing a dream which ex
pressed a relationship of cause and effect. The repeated expression
of that dream in a song and a dance would hold this newly organ
ized pattern stable in the dreamers mind and impose it on the
group.
While he was awake, modem man might see the connection be
tween putting honey on his wounds and facilitating the process of
healing. Apparently it was easier for the Negrito to make this kind
of logical connection in his sleep. Perhaps mans first reflective
thinking appeared in his dreams.
Each day, with the arrival of new visitors, the circle of little
houses grew. Each night the gypsylike choruses increased in vol
ume, as more hunters participated in the wild, half-prayerful, halfmagical dances, expressing thanksgiving to the animals which had
allowed themselves to be found and killed for food, expressing the
skill and valor of the hunter who had made the kill, expressing the
speed and grace and gait and rhythm of the pig, or deer, or bird
which had been slain. These were victorious dances, in which the
Negritos demonstrated how grateful they were to the slain mem
bers of the animal world.
To me the dances also expressed a message from the Negrito to
the animalsthat this food was being transformed into song and
65
dance and rhythm, into human joy, good fellowship, and good
will, as though he said, Be happy, my slain friends, that you have
died to contribute to the higher forms of expression and joy which
human beings have attained, and which you cannot attain except
as you are incorporated into the nerve, sinew, blood, and emotion
of human beings.
Toward morning there were also dances held in honor of the
projected hunt of the morrow, dances which were both plans or
rehearsals for the coming hunt and magical spells or messages to
gain the permission and co-operation of the animals which were
to be hunted and of the elements of nature.
These dances showed that the images of things, as well as the
images of people, that went to make up the Negrito personality
received constant attention through the co-operative action of the
Negritos. Apparently there was in the mind of each Negrito an
image of the animal kingdom which he used for food. If the Ne
grito planned to obtain honey, pork, or venison, a bee, a pig, or a
deer came alive in his mind and demanded expression. Killing a
member of the species in the hunt evidently made this representa
tive image again become active. So the Negrito expressed its ten
sions or pressure through his dance and song, and then was able
to dismiss it until new plans to hunt the creature activated its image
once more.
However, the images of members of the social group and of
animals were not the only ones which had to remain balanced in
the mind of the Negrito. The trees which gave up their poison for
his arrows, their fruit for his diet, and their bark for his clothing
required similar ceremonies; so did the rivers which furnished him
fish, the rocks which held him up as he walked, or which blocked
his way, and the earth, which furnished him with roots, grubs, and
tubers. Even the shrubs and tiny insects which were disturbed as
the Negritos spat upon the ground or urinated were warned of
the coming disturbance in their universe, and given an expression
of appreciation for accepting what had become a burden to the
Negrito.
Tolandian did not like trouble, and the Negritos judged by their
own feelings what would trouble other orders of beings and there
fore make them complain to Tolandian.
The Negritos behaved toward things and people according to
this sense of total inner balance. Although they had no idols, I
66
had the feeling that they were constantly worshipping idols in

side themselves through their continual round of ceremonies. They
were idolators with a vengeance. They did not have to make graven
images to worship. Nature had given them a plentiful supply. Na
ture had carved the image of the sun, the moon, the star, the moun
tain, the river, the plant, in the Negritos mind, and he credited
each with his own feelings and with supernatural power.
This was clearly demonstrated in a dream which one of the Ne
gritos had a few nights after they began to assemble for the cere
mony. The old men had decided to increase the size of the clearing.
Each horde which was represented chose an area to work on, and
began cutting off the brush and carrying out the dead logs, which
they broke up for grubs and then left for firewood. After the first
days work, Zogone of the leadersdreamed that the earth spirit
in his area resented the clearing. His whole group stopped work
the next morning and moved to another location, with a total loss
of the first days activity. The earth demon also demanded tobacco
and betel from the head man, toward which all had to contribute.
This terrifying dream character had successfully attacked the
dreamer, all of the members of the dreamers group who were co
operating with him, and the other Negritos who had helped to
plan the project. If this fearful dream image had not been able to
affect the behavior of Zog and his group, it might have made him
ill. Then it would have been attacked in the healing ceremony by
the Negrito shamans. As it was, it received the respect and obe
dience of the Negritos as though it were, for the moment at least,
the supreme god of the universe.
The incident terrified me. I asked Zog how big the earth demon
was and he said it was a regular giant, as big as myself. With an
inner quake, I inquired about the color of the dream giant. If it was
white and as big as I, the Negritos might suspect that it was my
spirit. Fortunately, it was yellow, the color of the earth in the
vicinity. They did not connect it with me in their mind, but I was
ill at ease and could not keep from thinking of the incident.
Preparations for the festival were even further complicated by
the taboos on pregnant women. The earth, the rifle barrel, the
medicine kit, all seemed to fall into the same category as the womb
of the pregnant mother. She could not be present when the Ne
gritos dug up the tubers which had been stored to ferment away
6j
the poisons in them. She could not be present when the bullets
were taken out of the rifle barrel, and the medicines had too much
force in them to be regarded as ordinary things. They were full
of energy, like people, and might make the child want to come
out of his mothers womb before its time, or might make her womb
want to get rid of it. Also, the expectant mother had to refrain from
eating twin bananas, or any type of fruit which had an unusual
shape. Eating these might cause the baby to split in half or to change
his shape. I despaired of testing or even of obtaining dreams from
any of those with child, because of the endless taboos surrounding
them. As the days passed, I was seized more and more with the con
viction that I differed from the Negritos mainly in the matter of
inner simplicity
Since childhood I had not felt such breathless excitement as all
the Negritos were able to maintain day after day as they looked
forward to the approaching feast. Every minute not occupied by
organized hunts for food was filled up with the childrens spearing
matches, foot races, and tree- and vine-climbing contests. Wrestling
matches and dog fights were always in progress, and the outcome
of each seemed a matter of life and death to everyone.
The habit of regarding the image as though it were an object in
the outside world and the outside object as though it were a vital,
living part of the self made everything that happened around him
seem as important to the mature Negrito as it would to a child.
It was as though the categories of the mind would not absorb
energy from each other, or would not yield at all under pressure,
making it necessary for the central mind to absorb the wear and
tear of each event that happened, and keeping the adults in a state
of constant excitement such as I remembered only from childhood,
when each thing that happened was happening for the first time.
As the sun set, the drums and sticks and bamboo flutes were
brought out and the hunting-gathering dances began, each led by
those who were organizing the hunt or those who had been es
pecially successful in it, each describing in a short-versed song,
which the group echoed in chorus after each verse, the plan for
the project or the story of it. After these more formal dances, there
were sometimes others, accompanied by songs which the spirit
guides had given to the leaders of the dance or to their ancestors
dances which dramatized and described the moods and sounds
68
and philosophy of the wind spirit, the spirit of the moon, the tree
spirit, the bounding spirit of the rolling rocks, even the hard,
jagged, fearful spirit of the lightning, the floating spirit of the
clouds, and the soft spirit of the rain, each with its peculiar flavor
of rhythm, of intonation, of minor and major notes, each very
similar to the others, yet with a subtle, haunting originality. Each
dance began with complicated and disciplined movement patterns,
each grew to an orgiastic explosion of wild abandon at the end.
Each expressed skill and stamina and inspiration, every dancer
struggling to outdo his fellows.
Everything about this strange Negrito world was whipping my
mind and my senses into a constant frenzy of feverish activity.
Some things were beginning to make sense, but they only made
the others more disturbing. It was one thing for the student to
watch a frogs egg being attacked by beams or light. There was no
danger that one of the beams of light might make the egg turn
around and kill him. Here I myself was the external irritantand
the Negritos might react by killing me at any moment.
Ever since the night the earth giant had appeared and ordered
the Negritos to stop clearing the land, I had been watching closely
how they interpreted the various nightmares the children reported.
Usually the elders told the children to say a prayer or make a sacri
fice to the terrifying dream character, and if it spoke to them,
to do what they were bidden on awakening. The presence of this
pattern of response supplied the explanation of some characteris
tics of Negrito behavior.
Zog, the lineage head, an authority because he was the oldest son
of an oldest son, had apparently moved off the soil with his group
because since childhood he had been doing what his terrifying
dream giants told him to do. Here the Negrito culture had ob
viously taken a false step which partly explained why the Negrito
did not grow up mentally and learn to think in abstractions, why
he could not change his environment or his social order.
I knew that the earth demon was only a nonmaterial image, an
abstraction, since the old man had seen it when his eyes were closed
in sleep. He was afraid of it. He had to do what it told him. It was
his master, rather than his servant. He was obliged to allow this
fragment of himself to use him. He could not change the outside
earth because it would then no longer correspond to the inside pat
tern, which was the dominion of the dream giant. This view fitted
69
into the egg theory. The central mind or force could not change
the dream pattern because it was supported by outside authorities.
Thus, the Negrito acquired two heads, two controlling centers, his
central mind and the dream giant.
On further inquiry, I found that if the dream giants told the
subject of a nightmare to dp things which were taboo they met
opposition from the old men. The old men refused to support, and
even attacked, dream characters which impelled the children to
do antisocial or violent things toward the members of their own
group (it was not taboo or antisocial to kill a stranger). If the
adults.did nothing about these nightmares because the child failed
to report them, or because the adults were too busy, they often
showed up as neurotic symptoms or illness in adolescence or adult
hood, as had the giant baby of the shamaness and the thunder spirit
of Pana.
Apparently the central mind of the Negrito could successfully
oppose and conquer the dream image only when the authorities told
him to do so. If they sided with the dream image, or neglected it,
the central wisdom had to adapt itself to this image instead of mak
ing use of it. Obviously the central mind of each Negrito had to
keep his inner universe balanced as he built and maintained his per
sonality, just as the egg had to keep a balance as it built and main
tained the physical body. The authorities, the elders, were like the
scientists who controlled the light beam. When the child awakened
from sleep and reported a struggle of the central mind with an
image, the authorities could tell him to break down and control
the image, so it could not build up a second head. In doing so they
turned off the beam of light from the outside while it was still
a stimulus and before it had given rise to a monster. If the authori
ties did nothing about the nightmare image, it might later make
the child sick mentally or physically, and if they sided with the
nightmare image, they robbed the child of the power to do ab
stract thinking, or to change his environment, or himselfto con
trol his own destiny.
Why didnt the fools tell the children to break up and control
all the dream giants as they appeared? This I could not answer, and
what was worse, I could not escape the clearer and clearer realiza
tion that I was in no way protected by their taboos. The more I
understood the Negrito mentality, the more frightened I became,
but I was powerless to leave. If they liked me, their dream giants
70
wouldnt tell them to kill me. I tried to be pleasant and useful, and
told Juan not to forget to instruct them about the blood brother
hood of all Christians, so they would be at least as afraid of killing
me as they were of their dream giants.
SIX
Olan
N, the mistress of the infant

spirit guide, who had treated me the night of my arrival, had each
day kept in touch with Juan. Apparently she was convinced that
I was being eaten away by the spirit that had been drawn from
my mother and lodged in my right side, and she was determined
to do something about it. One day she told Juan of a dream she
had had about me, in which she had seen me turned into the stone
house of the invading ghost. Later, her spirit guide informed her
that I must get married, or else the ghost would make me sicken
and die. With the arrival of each new group she inquired the bride
price of the marriageable girls, and suggested to Juan those she
thought would be suitable for me.
I was not sure of Juans motives in telling me of the virtues of
the various wives available. He was as interested in Uns informa
tion for himself as he was for me, and as the days passed it occurred
to me that he had an ulterior motive, perhaps hoping that I might
buy a wife he could not afford and bequeath her to him when I
left the Negrito territory. Each time he returned from talking to
the shamaness he had a dreamy look in his eyes, as though she had
7i
72
spun a fantasy in his mind more powerful than any he could con
coct himself. I could have sworn he was in love.
Cut off from the girls in his own group by the incest taboo,
which made even his second or third cousin in his fathers group as
forbidden to him as his mother or sister, and cut off from all other
girls by the bride price, the Negrito boy had but to hear of a girl
to build a fantasy about her, to deify her, and so to fall in love.
One night Lango, a visiting boy, commenced the twelve-day
courtship dance around the lean-to of one of the local girls, on
whose bride price the fathers had been able to agree.
This dance was full of frustration, anguish, and longing. Its
purpose, Juan explained, was to express his undying love and de
votion for his bride-to-be. I could understand the frustration. As
part of the bride price Lango was to work for her father for a year,
during which he would see her constantly but not be able to enjoy
her. In the song which accompanied the dance, Lango told of his
own virtues, his strength, his wisdom, his bravery, his grace in the
dance, his favor in the world of spirits, his honesty and integrity.
Twelve days of those songs, composed as the spirits moved him in
the dance, would certainly make his betrothed feel that being the
love object of such a hero left nothing to be desired.
Why doesnt he say something about the girl in his song? I
inquired of Juan.
She knows how wonderful she is, he answered. In the court
ship song you tell a girl about yourself. Anyway, he doesnt know
her yet, since hes hardly met her.
I could see no flaw in Juans logic. The melancholy of Langos
song was contagious, and moved Juan so deeply that at last he had
to speak. He glanced nervously in the direction of the shamaness,
swallowed hard, and announced that Olan, the most famous girl in
Bataan, was arriving from across the mountain on the morrow. She
was seventeen, old to be unmarried, but she was so beautiful that
no one had been able to raise the bride price which her father asked.
Uns infant guide had predicted that I would be unable to resist
her, and that she would save me from the spirit which Un had
seen eating away my life.
But how would we take her into the northern territory if I
did marry her? I inquired.
Her family will guard her for you until you come back, he
answered evasively.
OLAN
73
But suppose I never come back?

Then you could give her to me when you left, he suggested.
But Juan, it would be adultery if you took my wife before you
knew I was dead. Youd have to murder me to escape the adultery
taboo.
Oh no, said Juan, with a shocked expression. I could become
a Christian.
Now it was plain why Juan had been so interested in Uns thera
peutic marriage project. Doubtless he himself had fallen in love
with Olan. He had known that the bride price would include a
carabao or two, and other things which would be beyond his reach
even with all the salary he could accumulate in my employ. Of
course, the whole idea was ridiculous, but I did not have the heart
to dash his splendid plans.
We can see about it when she arrives, I assured him.
The love song of the Negrito lad had suddenly lost some of its
melancholy. The idea that one could think of these women as
having beauty had not occurred to me before. I would have to
look at them again.
I did not think of the marriage project or of Olan again until,
in the late afternoon, I looked up from the picture of a dream a
young Negrito boy was drawing for me and saw Un standing in
front of me with a Negrito girl by her side. Apparently they had
been there for some time, watching me. The Negritos always
moved about so quietly that I could never shake off the impression
that they materialized out of thin air.
This time it was a shocking impression, since the wisplike girl
who stood beside the sturdy shamaness was, at once, more a dream
than a reality. She was tall for a Negrito, towering at least three
inches above the shamaness, who was over average height. Yet,
for one so slender, she did not seem tall. As I stared, unable to
extricate my mind from the dream the lad was drawing, I hardly
comprehended that she was a person at all. Instead she seemed to
break up into circular areas of intense darkness, as though space
had received a blow that knocked some fragments from it. There
was something about the brilliance of the scene which gave the
figure the mechanical, unreal appearance of a hallucination or a
memory, made it as unhuman there in the sunlight as an abstract
painting. Her greater height made her short bark-cloth skirt ap
pear even shorter. In fact, it was molded so neatly to the curving

74
line of her hips and thighs that it was not a skirt at all, but only
one of the circles. She was black as ebony, but standing there in
the shaft of sunlight, which bounded from her smooth skin like
metal, she seemed lighter than the green of the foliage. I blinked
as though the light hurt my eyes, and fancied I could see my reflec
tion imprisoned in each of the round drops of shadow which
marked the place where space had been a moment before.
Stupidly telling myself that it must be the heat, I looked away
from the girl into the good-natured countenance of the sham&ness.
Uns face seemed luminous and large again, as it had in the trance,
and I half-expected her to break into her deaf-and-dumb language.
Olan, she said with a sly twinkle, making a gesture toward
the other. I looked around for Juan. He sat with his mouth open,
obviously more affected by the shining spirals of jet revolving
there in the shaft of sunlight than he had been by the ghost visit
of Ogongs father.
Juan, I said gently. He did not stir. Would you ask Un if her
spirit guide has given her any more dreams lately?
Juan, I repeated, a bit louder. Perhaps you could give Olan
a test if you spoke to her.
Oh yes, he responded, without looking away. But when he
tried to convey my message, he could only stammer, opening and
shutting his mouth without words. Un was bursting with amuse
ment. Would she offer to loan her guide to Juan so he could com
municate in the deaf-and-dumb language until his voice returned?
Having sponsored the girls journey to the festival, Un was enjoy
ing the force of Olans impact upon the men, with no less pleasure
than she would have if her own beauty were striking the fatal
blow.
I was convinced that she had a healing interest in everyone, but
apparently she was woman enough to take some satisfaction in the
undoing of masculine pride. Only in shamanism and through
feminine beauty had the Negrito woman an opportunity to escape
the rigid domination of masculine authority. Here, obviously, was
a debacle of masculinity. Her mischievous eyes were suggesting
to me that I could no more withstand her protege than did Juan.
I looked again in Olans direction. This time I was able to at
tend to her face, but that feeling of getting tangled up in circles
still persisted, even now. The spirals of her hair were not so small
OLAN
75
as the peppercorn ringlets of most of the Negritos. Perhaps way

back she had some Polynesian or black Hindu ancestry.
The vine with which her hair was tied was as black as the hair
itself. It was some variety of creeper, and its tendrils went swirling
into space like the stray wisps of hair on her own head. Her lids
were dropped against the glare of the sun, so that no white showed
beneath her lashes, and her lips rested immobile, their perfect
symmetry unspoiled. It was as though she had been made accord
ing to a plan that had been drawn with a compass.
At last Juan found his voice and his feet, and drew up a stool
for Olan by the table. When I looked back toward the shamaness,
it became obvious from her smug expression that she did not realize
the mathematical nature of my absorption in this wisp of the night
she had produced. If I had seen Uns spirit guide, who was as big
as a man and looked like an infant, he would have aroused about
the same degree of curiosity as this girl before me. During Uns
trance he had had for me about the same amount of substance as
this thin-waisted, full-breasted aggregation of gleaming circles,
with a suggestion of human life only in the small, flat disc formed
by her abdomen, which bounded in and out as she breathed.
She did amazingly well on the test and had an abundance of
dreams to relate. In no time at all she was using the pencil and
paper to depict her dream characters, as though she had grown up
drawing them. Actually, like all Negrito girls, she had scratched
designs on her bamboo combs, so that the art of drawing was not
completely unknown to her.
From the autobiography Juan collected, we learned that Olan
had been ill at the beginning of her menstrual cycle four years be
fore, and had been successfully treated by Un. She had been in
the trance state a number of times during the treatment and under
Uns guidance expected one day to become a shamaness. As she
spoke, I wondered if she had absorbed and was sharing the infant
spirit guide of the older shamaness. The wealth of expression and
gestures she employed made her torrent of words scarcely neces
sary. It was fantastic how anyone as immobile as she had been
there in the sunlight could so rapidly appear to have no form at
all, to be made entirely of force and movement.
It was late afternoon. The cool air was moving down from the
higher mountains, lifting the oppressing heat. The break in the
76
trees above the clearing was filled with rosy light reflected from
the clouds.
The sky around the glowing clouds was almost as green as the
leaves of the lofty trees. Juan had apparently said something funny,
and for the first time I heard Olans laughter. It was high and pene
trating and had a tinkling quality, like the strips of glass which the
Japanese hang up for the wind to play with. Looking down, I
saw her for the first time in profile. Leaning back slightly, she had
turned away from the table and faced Juan. Every part of her was
throbbing with laughter. In profile she was a different being from
the one I had seen standing in the sunlight.
The roundness which invited one on and on into the space
through and behind her had been transformed into smooth, straight
lines and gently dipping curves which met w'ith other lines and
curves in a wicked series of penetrating angles. Unlike the straight
or slightly bulging forehead of most Negritos, hers sloped gently
back at a perfect angle from her incredibly straight nose. Her lips
were full and protruding, but the profile line sweeping down from
her nose and up from her chin was graceful; her teeth were bloodred from betel chewing; and her breasts, no longer round from
this angle, but long and sharp, thrust themselves up into space. As
she threw back her arms in the laughing gesture, the straight tips
of her breasts curved skyward like the obscenely aggressive horns
of a rhinoceros.
The next minute she was sitting erect and still again. A strange
thing happened. The sun had come out from behind a cloud low on
the horizon and shot its rays almost directly into my eyes. As I
narrowed them to shut out the glare, the straight-backed profile
figure before me turned a shining ghostly white, like marble in
the moonlight. As I looked, I could feel the goose pimples pucker
ing up my skin from head to foot.
Un had joined us. Olan was rising to her feet. Juan was speaking
to me. Yes, that was what she looked like. A Babylonian or an
Egyptian, not a Hinduand certainly a princess. Probably I had
seen a picture or a statue in some book or museum, when I was a
child so young I couldnt read the inscriptions, and had been pro
foundly moved or shocked at the time. Probably I had slipped back
again into that experience, and was hearing the voice of someone
tell me what the statue was. Ever since that first evening with the
Negritos, when I had seen the transformation of Ogongrs face and
OLAN
77
voice, and the deaf-and-dumb gestures of Uns infant guide, I had
often felt like a child in the presence of something beyond my
power to touch or comprehend. Juan was speaking to me again,
and the broad grin of the shamaness made it evident that she had
noticed my dazed expression and confusion. She probably thought
her love magic or her infant guide was affecting me.
As we put our testing things away, Juan told me that the evening
was to be devoted to a special ceremony. Just before noon I had
led a girl over to the testing table and, unknowingly, had sat her
down next to her fatheivin-Yaw. She had been so frightened of me
that she was powerless to protest. I had pushed her into one of the
greatest sins which a Negrito can commitceremonial incest. I
knew about the taboos which forbade the fathers speaking to his
sons wife, marching next to her on the trail, or sitting beside her.
It was as though the Negrito god, Tolandian, looking up from the
center of the earth, could not tell clearly what the father and his
daughter-in-law were up to if they communicated with each other.
He would think that they were sleeping together, or that their
proximity would make the son jealous of his father and disturb the
unity and good will of the closely knit extended family. Or, it
was as though the god had decided that trouble with in-laws could
be avoided if they kept away from each other and like his mes
sengers, the monkeys, refrained from communicating with each
other through words. Whatever the explanation, I had broken a
Negrito taboo and pushed the young lady and her father-in-law
into a ghastly offense against Tolandian, for which they were
not responsible, and yet for which they could not hold me respon
sible since I hadnt known of their relationship.
Half the night was spent in apologies to Tolandian and in cleans
ing rituals. As for the offended feminine dignity, it took a plug of
tobacco to earn pardon for me.
As far as I could now see, the world of the Negrito mind was
organized with Tolandian at the center, with the angleworms and
monkeys bringing information to him as though they were the
inner and outer skin of the human body, and the thunder and
lightning bringing authority and anger out from the center as
though they were glands and muscles. The rest of the living photo
graphs in the Negrito mind, whether of people, trees, or other
things, behaved in the same routine fashion as they did out in space*

78
or else they got tangled up in conflicts which aroused the anger of
Tolandian and required ceremonial action by the Negrito social
group.
I had been running into a good many of these Negrito taboos of
late, and was glad to hear Juan on frequent occasions promoting the
doctrine of the blood brotherhood of all Christians, so no one
would feel free to take Tolandians justice into his own hands with
out having to settle with my Christian family. A week earlier I had
eaten a piece of fish along with a morsel of the flesh of a hornbill, which had been presented to me from the communal hunt.
This was inviting a major catastrophe. To eat fish at the same
meal with fowl was like committing blasphemy; it was an insult
to the demigods of both the sky and the water. It made most of
the Negritos vomit. All night long they burned feathers and mut
tered their charms. A day or two later I ate some blue-colored
berries along with a handful of what looked like red thimbleberries.
I had seen the Negritos eat both these types of fruit and was un
aware that mixing them was taboo.
With the Negritos, nothing came off according to schedule. The
frequent infringements of taboo on my part delayed everything
much more than usual. Juan kept attempting to cheer me up by
saying it was good for me to learn these taboos before we reached
the northern territory, where the Negritos might spear me first if
I got them into trouble with Tolandian, and think of their possible
difficulties with my Christian brotherhood later. It was scant com
fort, since the things one might do to anger Tolandian without
knowing it seemed endless.
Tonight, as they performed the ceremonial of apology for my
infringement of the incest taboo, I noticed Juan deep in conversa
tion with Un, and later I saw the two of them having a conference
with Glin, the father of Olan. He was a stolid old fellow, with
something of the Egyptian appearance of his daughter. Of course,
they would not be able to arrange a marriage for me. The whole
idea was ridiculous, but I had to admit to myself that it did not seem
so utterly fantastic as it had the day before. Certainly I would learn
more about the Negrito if I went through their marriage ceremony,
and although I could not quite consider Olan a human being, or
think of her as more than an animated ebony statue, I felt a little
more than amusement later when Juan came back to help me
OLAN
79
record the words of the apology ceremony and more verses of

Langos love song.
At last I asked Juan the question which I knew he was bursting
to answer: How much bride price does the old man want for his
daughter?
He asks five hundred pesos, Juan answered, with a sad look
in his eyes. He thinks all foreigners are very rich.
It seems you have gone out of your way to exaggerate my
wealth to all the Negritos, I answered, with an amused feeling
that Juan was getting just what he deserved. He knew that such a
figure was entirely out of reach, even for me; it was my entire
working capital.
Glin says he was offered three hundred pesos by an old Filipino
who runs a little trading post on the other side of the mountain. I
do not think he will settle for any less. Olan did not like the old
Filipino and said she would run away, so she is not yet married
because of this. Since some of the Negrito children have gone to
school and heard about American ways, they are not so obedient to
their parents as they used to be. Glin thinks he may collect from
the old man when he and Olan go home. But Olan told him she will
run away and go down to the city if she has to marry him, and then
her father will have to return the bride price.
Even three hundred pesos is far beyond any bride price I could
afford, I said. I wondered at the very idea that I could be speak
ing thus about a subject which had appeared so completely outside
the limits of reality the day before. Juan agreed without conviction
that three hundred pesos was too much.
When Lango had completed his dance, Juan did a dance before
the lean-to of Olan. He had not explained the nature of his dance
to me, but from the phrases of his songthose I could understand
it was evident that it concerned me. Several times he spoke of
gold and pearls, of power, of credit, and of the American Way.
Apparently he was not willing to give up his matrimonial quest on
my behalf so easily.
I had a cheap gold-plated fountain pen and pencil set from Japan,
a fourteen-carat-gold watch and chain, a fraternity pin with some
seed pearls in it, a pearl-handled pocketknife, and a graduation ring
set with a synthetic ruby. Juan had seen these on several occasions
and had displayed great interest in them. After his dance, he asked
8o
if he might show them to Glin. Altogether those things only cost

about two hundred pesos, I said to him as I handed them over, and
one probably could not sell them for over fifty pesos even in
Manila.
I just want him to see how much gold you have, he said. It
will do no harm.
As I went to sleep, I could see Juan and Un talking at Glins
lean-to. They were still talking when I woke, up next morning, and
when Juan returned he seemed hopeful again, and excited. He may
have impressed the old man, or he may have been excited only be
cause this was the great day of the 'wakaij the funeral feast for
Ogongs father.
King Alfonso had attended a number of large gatherings, since
the Army used the feasts as a way of getting in touch with the
various Negrito groups. Everyone looked to him for leadership,
and he obliged.
At daybreak Juan went with some of the other young men, who
could travel fast, for more wine and some last-minute supplies. He
asked if I would give five pesos toward the wine, and I suspected
that he was contributing a months salary of his own, and that his
request involved Glin in some way. I had left fifty pesos with the
Filipino trader at the end of the oxcart road, to be changed into
ten-centavo pieces. Most of the Negritos had seen these silver coins
and valued them as trinkets, even if they did not know that they
could be spent at the trading posts.
Paper money was not valued by the mountain folk, so I carried
it without fear of being robbed, but I needed silver to pay the lads
who would escort us to the north. Juan had arranged for three of
them to go along, at ten centavos a day. He now suggested that I
convert another ten pesos into silver, saying that some of the Ne
gritos had not seen silver pesos and that the large coins would be
of interest to them. I suspected that the wine and the silver, like
the gold, were being marshaled for their effect on Glin.
I had a pint silver flask and a gold-plated cigarette case. The
flask was full of alcohol which I had brought along for medicinal
purposes. Juan produced an aluminum Army-issue canteen for
which he had been bargaining with the Filipino sergeant, and sug
gested that I pour the alcohol from the pocket flask into it. On his
trip down he planned to fill up the flask with some especially potent
sugar-cane brandy, which Roberto kept on hand.
OLAN
81
Should we arrange a betrothal, said Juan, it would be good

to give Glin a drink from the silver flask. He also asked for my
cigarette case, saying that he would fill it up with special, black,
molasses-coated cigarettes. The Negritos valued these highly, but
could seldom afford them. I wondered if these were only stage
props, or if I was going to be asked to sacrifice the case and the
flask, along with my other possessions, on the altar of love.
As the morning wore on, I wandered leisurely about the camp,
observing the preparations for the feast. By the middle of the afternooh they were moving along smoothly. None of the natives had
ever seen such a large group of people. Never before, according to
the old men, had such a stack of food been assembled on Bataan.
Ogongs dead father would have occasion to be very proud of his
at-onement feast. He would undoubtedly invite some of the other
ghosts to take part in the wakai.
The idea that ghosts were to-be present at the feast made the Ne
gritos nervous. All of them had heard how I had called up and con
trolled a ghost, and all of them, even Glin, seemed more friendly
than usual. All looked forward to the arrival of the wine, which
they knew would be plentiful.
D*
SEVEN
Funeral Feast and Betrothal
lO W A R D sunset the sound of

whooping down the trail announced the approach of the young
men with the wine kegs. Soon the first keg was opened and every
one was fortifying himself against the presence of the ghost who
was being honored, and of any friends the ghost might bring along.
After the mule, the deer, the wild pigs, the porcupines, and the
bamboo rats had been placed on the fire, and the other food had
been arranged, the men settled down to drink and exchange their
never-ending stories. All were brimming over with cordiality and
good will. When the animals were roasted, some of their parts
would be burned and some would be raw, but the Negritos would
not mind. The carcasses were cooked whole because meat was
now so scarce in the territory that the natives seldom got all they
wanted. They had none of the white mans prejudice against the
insides of an animal, and they liked the flavor of the digestive juices.
The bittersweet of bile-impregnated liver, combined with honey
comb, the sour taste of the hydrochloric acid from the stomach,
and the limburgerlike flavor from the intestines were all welcome
82
FUNERAL FEAST AND BETROTHAL
83
to the Negrito gourmets. After a Negrito feast, nothing was left

but bones, and even these were cracked open for the marrow.
The women took care of the rest of the feast, cooking the rice,
tubers, and vegetables in large lengths of green bamboo. Even the
children were put to work, gathering banana leaves for the com
bination tablecloths and plates and keeping the dogs out of the en
closure. This was really the greatest problem of the entire feast.
Everyone had brought his dog, and the pack fought constantly just
outside the clearing. When the fight went badly tor their own dogs,
the children intervened with clubs and loud shouts. Every few
seconds some dog which had tried to enter the clearing to snatch
a bit of food would go off yelping in a pitch so high that it rang
out shrill and clear above the babble.
The older women, and those not busy with the food, formed a
circle on a low bamboo platform which had been constructed at
the eastern border of the clearing. There they murmured their
prayers for the deceased. In the afternoon, only a few of the
women chanted, their quavering voices scarcely audible above the
yelping of the dogs and the laughter of the men. But as evening
approached, the chorus became steadily louder and the cries more
piercing. Now the men occasionally encouraged the singing by
giving the women bamboo lengths of wine.
By sunset the chorus had all the fury of a tempest, rising and
falling like the howling of wind. Though few of the mourners had
ever known the deceased, I was sure there had never been a more
convincing expression of unconsoled grief. In the voices there was
bitterness, longing, sadness, and heartbroken protest against the
cruelty of death.
Leaning far back on their heels, their naked breasts toward the
sky and their arms outstretched, the women sobbed with deep,
guttural, wheedling sounds, straightening up to a kneeling posi
tion as they increased the volume. Then the pitch of the chanting
became higher and more demanding. As it ended, the women leaned
forward and pounded the bamboo platform with their clenched
fists in a paroxysm of high-pitched, angry screaming which had not
yet lost the sobbing rhythm. Then they leaned back again, as
though drinking in force from the heavens, and then once again
went forward and pounded the floor. Gradually the gestures and
the song and the rhythm took hold of me with an hypnotic force.
Each time I looked toward Olan, who was talking to Juan and
84
Un, the whole chorus melted into her. From the front, the inviting
planes of her body suggested that receptive leaning back, that im
perative submissiveness, which the Negrito women were showing
at the beginning of each verse of their song. The screaming, pound
ing, frantic demand expressed at the end of the verses brought her
insistent profile into mind.
These women were different from any I had ever seen before.
For all their receptivity, there was a violent aggressiveness about
them. The wine was softening a barrier in me, combining with Uns
constant repetition of the fact that I, being a man, must have a
woman, and with Juans persistent suggestion that Olan belonged
to me but for the exchange of a few trinkets.
The entire atmosphere was permeated with magic, with hyp
nosis, which made each person act as though his wildest fantasy
were already a reality, as though the outside world were no more
than his own daydream. Certainly I had no feeling of love for this
wisp of black shadow which had boldly pierced the sunlight, as it
was now piercing the glow of the fire. But as I watched her there,
talking with such smooth animation, I could not deny that fche
was becoming entangled with my feelings. The stab of hatred I
felt for Juan as I watched them, and the rage Un aroused in me for
no reason I could think of, were warning enough that a void in
side me was filling up with something which might spell disaster.
I had first noticed this void when Mrs. Hartendorp had asked me
what I was running away from. It had been increased by Uns
tantalizing gestures in the trance, which had seemed to me to pan
tomime the severing of some imaginary umbilical cord.
The next moment the, cooks yelled that the food was ready.
Sorrow and tears disappeared like magic. The throng of mourners
charged upon the food with yells of merriment and ecstasy. The
feast began soon after sunset, by that time, all the men were a little
unsteady on their feet and uninhibited by even the usual Negrito
restraint about food.
Although I was hungry, I could scarcely eat for wondering at
the speed with which the food was vanishing. One little old man,
hardly three feet high, started on a haunch of deer. I could swear
that it disappeared before he had drawn a breath. The whole group
ate with the same degree of concentration which had possessed the
women in their expression of sorrow. In spite of the rapidity of
their eating, however, the feast went on for hours. As it progressed,
85
the Negritos ate more slowly. I was astonished at their capacity.

Where in their little bodies did they find a place for such moun
tains of meat?
Gradually their slim, well-proportioned torsos took on the
rotund lines of kewpie dolls. As they finished eating, the women
once more took their places on the mourners platform, and the old
chant, half wail, half song, of the afternoon recommenced. As the
minutes passed, some of the men joined the chorus.
As bone fragments and bits of burned skin fell upon the ground,
the battle with the dogs became more desperate. The poor halfstarved creatures were continuously beaten back, and their wail
ings, as they licked their wounds and looked longingly at the food,
remained my most melancholy memory of the Negrito funeral
feast.
The wine had released ugly aggressive tendencies in the men.
They enjoyed beating off the dogs. I did not, as usual, identify
with the sufferers; this time I identified with those who were de
livering the savage blows. I wished that the dogs were Glin and
Juan and Un, and all who were talking and laughing with Olan as
I should have liked to be talking and latighing with Olan, but for
age, custom, and the million other barriers which I knew could
never be surmounted.
As the feast wore on, my appetite returned, and soon I was tear
ing at a bloody haunch of the Army mule. The sugar-cane brandy
had no strength at all. I enriched it with the medicinal alcohol
from the canteen. The meat had no substance, now that a monster
inside me had been unleashed upon it. I felt happy as the chunks of
gristle and raw fat, which would have gagged me an hour before,
stretched my throat, and as blood from the meat trickled down my
beard and fell upon my chest. Gradually, the raw, bestial feelings
which had threatened to consume me were assuaged. I was begin
ning to look more like a kewpie doll than any of the others, having
more spare fat of my own to help out. And at last I could again
watch Olan with only a mild feeling of falling into the net of ab
stract circles, or of being tossed about by the curved horns of the
rhinoceros.
Now Juan detached himself from Glins group and darted into
my little tent. Soon he emerged with one of the salt sacks full of
coins which he had brought back from Robertos. He came to me,
his eyes wide and his nostrils dilated. Come, he said. Come
86
quickly. Glin will take a bride price of three hundred pesos! You
can become engaged to Olan!
I felt as though the Army mule I had just eaten had kicked me
on the head and left me stone sober. Had Juan cashed in all the
money I had amassed for my expedition? I was afraid to look at
Olan. Something in me was saying that one moment with her
would be worth three hundred pesos.
I cant possibly afford three hundred pesos, I said to Juan.
Oh, he said confidently, for the betrothal youll only pay ten
per cent of the bride price. Thats only thirty pesos. Then youll
give her your ring for the engagement. I explained to Glin that
this is the American Way.
Oh, I said.
Yes, he said. I told Glin that you must kiss her when you
give her the ring, and that the marriage will not take place until
you can make her love you. Ive been teaching her English, so she
can talk to you and know your words of love. She is pleased to love
you by consent, but she is afraid of you because you are big. She
thinks it might kill her to bear your child. But I told her my father
was as big as you, and she knows that many Negrito women have
married Lowland men. So she has agreed to the engagement and
to allow you to court her in the American way.
I took a quick look in Olans direction, and I heard a voice in my
memory saying, Youve got a chance to come out of the moun
tains alive if you leave the Negrito women alone. Was this warn
ing which I had heard so often in the Lowlands abrogated by a
formal engagement?
Juan took me to Olan. She looked dreadfully shy as we ap
proached. I thought I could again see her as a white marble statue,
but this time the statue was blushing. As we stopped in front of
her, the burning in my own face and throat made me realize the
source of the redness in the face of the statue I saw in my mind.
In my long thirty years of life I had never seriously considered
being engaged. How had I got myself into this situation? Olan was
standing on a log, and still she was hardly higher than my shoulder.
Juan handed the sack of coins to Glin and tugged my ring loose
from my finger, where I had replaced it when he returned it to
me that morning. He was obviously afraid the old man would
change his mind and reverse his decision, which had been helped
along by the wine and food of the festival.
87
Olan extended her hand as Juan directed. He slipped the ring over
her thumb and told her that she must kiss me. She stood immobile,
as she had those first minutes in the sunlight. Her eyes were closed.
Mechanically I extended my arms. As my hands touched her
back, she whirled, as though she had lost her nerve and wished to
flee. It was too late. I could not have released her if I would. The
rotation of her body had placed her breast in my hand, and her
back was falling against my chest. My right hand was at her chin,
turning her head toward me. The softness of her skin and of her
slender throat, and the delicate bones of her jaw, which felt even
smaller than they had looked, startled me, but not enough to break
the continuity of the action which was in progress.
She struggled for a moment and then, as I felt her lips, her body
stiffened and pulsated with violence. I released her, and she ran
off into the shadows. I felt as though I had shorted an electric cir
cuit. The throbbing of that cone-shaped heart continued in my
hand, and the sensation showed no signs of abating. I felt stunned
and I dropped my hand to my side with the feeling that it was no
longer mine, and that it would go on beating, independently of
me, with that shocking, startled rhythm.
I became aware that everyone was looking at me. The broad grin
on Uns round face announced that her guide was winning out
against the spirit of the lady whom she had seen using my body as
her stone house. Juan handed her a betrothal presentfrom me to
Olan. Un unfolded it and held it up for inspection. The gift had
not come from among my possessions; it was something I had
never owned or purchaseda pair of old-fashioned lace panties.
Juan told Un to see that Olan put them on and wore them on this
first night of her betrothal.
Juan shook hands with me and told the other Negritos to do
the same. Glin stood munching his cud of betel nut and clutching
his sack of money. He looked dazed, which convinced me he was
hardly more aware of how this betrothal had come about than I
was myself. Juan pulled out the gold cigarette case, and passed the
coveted sweet, black, molasses cigarettes. He must have seen a
wedding or a betrothal party at the plantation at which he had
worked; he knew just what to do.
He led us back to the wine and chopped out the head of his
special keg, for which he had requested financial assistance while
I was still half-asleep in the morning.
88
Where did you get those lace panties? I muttered as we walked

along.
I bought them at a Filipino store before I left, he said. The
Filipino boys always beg a pair of panties from their lovers when
they are betrothed. The Negritos do not wear them, so I brought
a pair along, in case I wished to obtain a keepsake from my sweet
heart.
But why did you think they were necessary for my American
engagement? I said. I never heard of such a thing in America.
Juan looked mystified. It was the boys who go to the American
high school who told me of the custom, he said, wrinkling his
brow. They said that when a girl agrees to love a boy, she gives
him her panties as a pledge, so he can rest his head on them at night
when he longs for her and she is not there.
Well, I said, since youre the expert on the American way
of courtship, I cant question your procedure, but Im afraid youve
dragged in an old Spanish custom stemming from courtships car
ried on in the presence of chaperones. I realized that if my court
ship was to be conducted according to the old traditions which
had come to the Philippines with the Spaniards, there were more
surprises ahead. I had no experience in courtship carried on in the
presence of a chaperone, but if that was what I had to do to fulfill
Juans idea of an American courtship, I would do it.
EIGHT
Courtship the American Way
JL HE barrelhead of Juans special

keg was splintered, and the bamboo lengths of wine were drunk
by all in honor of Glin. The wailing had continued, but now it
was interrupted by the men bringing wine to the mourners. The
women drank and then immediately resumed the gypsylike cadence
of the funeral dirge. The throbbing in my hand grew faint as the
endless verses ebbed and flowed. Each verse told the history of all
those in a generation who had loved with sorrow and lost with
ragelost to time, death, and fate.
Only the chief mourner, Sari, offered relief from the gloom. She
was large for a Negrito, and very fat. She had come along with
the Kings party from Fort Stotsenburg, where food was plentiful.
Before the mourning commenced, she had put on a dirty pink
negligee, which she took from an old Army saadlebag. Alfonso told
me that the negligee had been given her by the wife of an Army ma
jor. Even though Sari wore it only on special occasions, it was now
bedraggled, and its ostrich-feather border looked like a long black
caterpillar. Periodically the awestricken women ran their grimy
hands along it to see what American finery felt like.
89
90
Being mourner of honor, Sari had received more wine than the
others, and she was now a little drunk. Leading the funeral dirge
as though she were singing Sweet Adeline, she bubbled with
good humor, and slapped the women about her if they failed to fit
into her alcoholic rhythm. Then, suddenly, she would drop off to
sleep, awaking only when the others tickled her across the face
with the feather border of her negligee.
The contortions of her lips as she awoke from these frequent
lapses were a source of humor to those tribesmen not engaged in
argument or sleep. The children, not interested in sorrow, laughed
each time she had to be awakened.
Sari was now getting back into action, and I watched and listened
as one after another of her mellow notes rocketed into the air.
Suddenly, there was a desperate heaving of her fat arms and legs,
and her negligee-clad body shot into the air, following her voice.
For a moment she seemed to be suspended, a mass of arms and legs
and fluttering silk. Her long hair, trained upward, emphasized the
terror in her screams. The next instant she was back on the plat
form, face downward, writhing and roaring with a superhuman
voice.
Whenever I think of absolute terror, the frozen faces of the other
mourners come back into my mind. As Sari writhed on the plat
form, knocking her colleagues about, I saw something bobbing
around on her back, under the negligee. Then I noticed a black:
thread extending from her neck into space.
The other mourners sat petrified, while Sari writhed and
screamed, kicking those who were near her. The waving thread
stiffened, and the bobbing hump moved steadily upward and broke
into view above the ostrich plumes. It was a small black monkey.
As it went upward, it fastened its feet in Saris hair and clung so
tenaciously that her head strained violently backward.
The mourners screamed. Then almost instantly, the suspense was
broken by shouts from the children. Down to the clearing dropped
an impish little boy, convulsed with laughter. He had been perched
on a large limb which extended over the platform. While the other
children created a momentary diversion, he had lowered his pet
monkey, attached to a strong black fiber, down her neck. The
monkey, not in on the joke, had scratched and bitten Saris back.
If the lad on the limb had not lost his perch from laughter, the
COURTSHIP THE AMERICAN WAY
91
monkey might have been successfully drawn out of sight and gone
down in Negrito history as a ghostly visitor.
As the Negritos began to understand what had happened, their
terror turned to mirth. The boy who had promoted the trick be
came a hero, and his fame throughout the mountains was assured.
At sunrise, all of the camp was aroused for one last burst of con
ventional weeping. Then the feast had officially ended. Everyone
felt it had been a most successful occasion.
The next few days were filled with feverish work for me, as I
gave mental tests to the last few people who had straggled in, re
corded dreams, and prepared for the journey north. A careful
check showed that whenever someone died, his children dreamed
of him repeatedly until the funeral feast. In groups where people
were not taught that their parents would visit them after death (in
America and Hawaii for instance) a large percentage of those I
interviewed did not remember dreams of their dead parents. When
they did, they usually described the dreams as terrifying or de
pressing. Among the Negritos, the dream of the parent was ex
pected, and did not, therefore, arouse fear or depression. Providing
the children were willing to do what the image of the deceased
parent requested, this type of dream aroused no sense of guilt.
Perhaps I had discovered a law: to help people to make a healthy
adjustment to the shock of death, teach them to expect dream
visitations from their dead loved ones. The idea was exciting. If
mans power to balance his nervous system and to grow in sleep,
through dreams, was dependent on the attitude of his group to
ward dreams and on what he heard about dreams as he grew up,
then the expression and interpretation of dreams might become a
vital part of our own educative process. Perhaps the neglect of the
dream in Western education was one of those blind spots I was
looking for, which made us stop short of a crimeless, warless civi
lization.
Before the two-hundred-odd Negritos who had assembled left
the festival, I was anxious to get short series of dreams from all who
had become shamans. I had already found that most of the shamans
asked their patients about their dreams, and that the dreams of the
shamans and of the people undergoing treatment were more com
plicated than those of other people and consistently included two
features missing in ordinary dreams. One was the appearance of the
92
spirit guide and other powerful dream characters who communi

cated with and helped the dreamer. The other was the co-operation
of the dream characters on the. dreamers behalf. Also, the spirit
which talked through the patient or was seen by him in trance
often appeared in his dreams, doing what it had been asked or told
to do by the shaman while the subject was in trance.
This was even more exciting than the dream visitations of dead
parents. It confirmed the law I had formulated, showing that man
would have dreams and remember them if he were encouraged to
do so, and it also showed that the special type of social contact
occurring in the agreement trance helped the individual develop
powerful dream characters which would assist him in the reor
ganization of his personality while he was asleep as well as during
the period of the trance.
In the afternoon Olan came shyly to the tent and talked with
Juan. Toward sunset, when work was put away, Juan told me
that she was ready to go for a walk with me, with Un as chaperone.
We went along the trail to a small river, half a mile from the en
campment, where I usually went swimming in the late afternoon.
An inch or two below her short bark-cloth skirt, I could see the
white ruffles of the betrothal present. It was astonishing what an
undressed appearance those two inches of lace gave to my brideto-be. As I climbed from the pool to rest on the little sandy beach,
Un pushed Olan down beside me, and resolutely turning her back
on us, went down the stream, pulling up small rocks in search of
prawns and shellfish. I did not know whether Juan had instructed
her about the proper functions of a chaperone, or whether turning
her back on us and wandering down the stream out of sight was
her own idea, or whether she was following the command of her
infant guide.
Whatever the source of her inspiration, it was appreciated. The
splash of her receding footsteps was lost in the gurgle of the stream,
as it swerved around the huge rock below which the deep swim
ming hole formed. The swirling water trapped the sunset colors
in a series of tiny whirlpools. A green lizard, scurrying across the
white sand toward the shelter of the rock, paused to cock its head
and look at me. A massive hombill, disturbed by Un downstream,
swished by, beating the air with its wings.
I was at a loss to know how Juans American Way courting
93
should proceed. Instinctively I took Olans hand, as she settled
down beside me. For a few minutes we practiced the English vo
cabulary which Juan was teaching her, but the white lace ruffles
against the ebony skin above her knees were too horribly distract
ing to permit communication in such awkward, halting language
symbols.
Plucking at the ruffles, I asked her in my best Negrito, Please
jyive to me. Apparently Juan had not failed to give the proper
instructions. Obligingly she pulled out the tucked-in end of the
strip of bark cloth which served her for a skirt, and unwound it.
It was surprisingly long and piled up around her like the coils of
a snake. At last she stood up, and turning her back to me, loosened
and slipped out of the betrothal panties, neatly folded them, and
looking back over her shoulder, handed them to me. Then, stoop
ing, she reached for the end of the bark-cloth skirt, which had
fallen close to my shoulder. The fear that I was being watched by
men from her group carrying poisoned spears, or that she would
dart away at my slightest gesture, never to appear again, was swal
lowed up in the impulse to grasp that shining arm.
In a moment she was beside me, struggling, but now each of
her lithe movements caressed me, even as she attempted to push
away. No sound issued from her lips, and there was no anger in her
wide eyes, only fear, fear so deep that I could see it extending back
to infinity in the blackness of her dilated pupils, and feel it pound
ing into me from the rhythm in her breast. With it, through her
entire body, spread the stiffness I had felt the night before, giving
her muscles the consistency of marble beneath the softness of her
skin. It robbed me of desire. I let her go.
Gradually I again became aware of the red in the sunset, the
green in the trees, the curtains of moss above, and a spray of or
chids which the slanting sunlight had discovered. Olan relaxed and
pushed away from me, as though waking from sleep. I felt a tender
ness toward her, the feeling I had had in childhood when I had
imagined myself a knight in King Arthurs court. Her eyes opened.
Un! I shouted. Come. I wondered if she would now see the
stone house, which was my body, divided into two apartments
and in each a ghostly feminine occupant not on speaking terms with
the other.
Un came splashing back up the river, a coil of her skirt filled
with shellfish. She was grinning, and ! felt sure she thought of me

94
as a puppet whose strings were pulled by her spirit guide. She led
us back to the encampment.
The songs and dances going on were a welcome relief from the
afternoon. I went to bed early and slept well. Next morning Juan
greeted me with his excited look, a look which I now knew an
nounced some great step in the progress of the marriage project.
Glin has agreed to accept the silver flask and the cigarette case,
the pearlhandled knife, and the pin with pearls, and the gold pen,
for two hundred pesos of the bride price, and to come along with
us until we leave the southern territory, he said triumphantly.
And Un has also agreed to come along with us as chaperone. We
will only have to give her five of the silver pesos.
I had noticed that Un was already in possession of most of our
bolt of cloth, and I wondered with some anxiety if both of us
would end up as bloody sacrifices on the altar of Olans beauty.
Still, the thought of having Glins group pull out within the hour,
taking Olan with them, was somehow intolerable. The price of
keeping them with us was a matter of trinkets, and I handed them
to Glin without hesitation.
A few days later Roberto, the old trader, appeared in the camp.
There was a long conference between him, Glin, and Juan. When
I inquired about it, Juan admitted that it had to do with the bride
price. After all, Juan explained, I have been to school and lived
in the Lowlands. I have guaranteed the rest of Olans bride price
in case you do not return. And Roberto, since my possessions are
at his househe has known me longhas guaranteed to pay the
rest of the bride price if I do not return with the money or work
it out in servitude.
I had to admit that Juan was a man of some importance. He
was a thousand times more important among the Negritos than I
was in my own native city. I could have nothing more to fear from
Glin, since in his mind the bride price was now paid in full. So
far as Juan was concerned, whether or not the marriage was con
summated would now depend on the caprice of Olan, my success
in courtship, the disposition of the strange Negrito groups through
which we traveled, and the magic of the love songs and dances
which Juan was now performing each night in my behalf around
Olans lean-to. She had agreed to marry Juan when he returned
to the territory in order to complete the payment of the bride
pricethat I would default was evidently already an accepted
95
fact. Apparently she had also agreed to allow herself to love me

if I could win her love.
Suppose Olan does decide to marry me? I said, looking at Juan
very straight. How will you feel about it?
Even so, you will not return, he answered. And when I went
down to get Roberto, I was baptized a Christian, so now I can
hold no ill will against you for the love you feel for Olan, or for
the love she feels for you, my brother.
But suppose there were a child, I said. I wanted to plumb him
to the bottom, half from a desire to remain alive in the mountains,
and half from curiosity about his ideas of Christian love.
That would not matter to a Christian, he said with conviction.
When I told the old Filipino foreman who was my friend at one
of the mills where I worked that some men were bragging about
their affairs with his beautiful young wife:and I said I would
shoot them with poisoned arrows for himhe said: My boy, the
flowers grow in my lovely garden. I care not who plants the seed.
Do you think that is better than the Negrito way? I said.
Again he answered with conviction. The murders and duels and
blood feuds which love makes among the Negritos do not please
me at all. That is why I wish to go to the god of love.
I had the feeling that Juan would find Christians who would
disappoint him in this doctrine of loving ones enemies. But he
would learn these limitations of Christian love soon enough, so I
let the matter drop.
We spent the next month on the trail and in the camps of Ne
grito groups wher^those of our group had connections. Olan was
a constant source of delight. On the march, Juan arranged that her
place should be in front of mine. Putting my foot down precisely
where my leaders foot had been was now not a burden, since each
shift of Olans weight and each change of posture resulted in a
picture of such sheer beauty, balance, and rhythm that I wanted
to save it forever.
When we worked now, she helped Juan with the testing,
or watched us as she and Un prepared the food, or as she fed the
campfire, or pounded out the cloth from the inner bark of saplings.
In the evening she danced with the other women, and sang a song
she had composed on the days march. Gradually she became less
afraid of me, and co-operated more freely with Un in the exciting
96
game of frustrating the vigilance of her father in order to find out

whether I could make her love me. She acted more like a princess
than any royal lady my imagination had been able to construct in
my childhood fantasies.
Before dawn on the morning we were to take leave of Glin and
his party, she stole into my tent and lay with me for an hour under
the mistlike folds of my mosquito net. Had Uns guide directed
her to say good-by to me thus, or had Juan told her that it was
the American Way? I did not know or care. For the first time
since I had known her there were tears in her eyes and on her
cheeks. I lay still and listened to the poem which she sang into my
ear in a voice which was lower than a whisper yet seemed to have
the volume of a pipe organ. I could not understand many of the
words, and lay there half out of my senses, expecting her Negrito
god, Tolandian, whom I had long ago accepted as my rival, to
blast open the earth.
For once, her hands were not pushing me away as though they
were the slaves of her father. For once, her heart was beating with
a rhythm which was not protest. Her movements, in rhythm with
her song, brought her body closer to my own. Even her feet and
ankles, which I had never felt before except as they bumped or
brushed against me in gestures of protest, frustration, or escape,
were moving in rhythm, caressing the calf of my leg. I felt the
weight of her knee against my waist.
I slipped drowsily into her rhythm. Then, quite suddenly, there
was the old shudder, the stiffening in her body, and the wall be
tween us. Things were as before, as they had always been.
I could not see her face as she rose to go, but I knew it was
again filled with a dazed, wondering expression, as if she did not
know what she was doing or where she was.
NINE
Nomads of Zambales
Y mind was almost numb

when Juan and I took leave ot the group and set off to the north.
Although I felt relief, as though I were escaping from some force
that had got completely out of my control, my legs were heavy on
the soft trail. They seemed determined not to carry me in the direc
tion I was headed. The third time I fell, landing face down on the
trail, Juan suggested that I should have spent more evenings re
ceiving treatment from Un and the other shamans.
When your whole heart does not go with you on the trail, the
demon of accidents and sickness finds a home inside you, he said.
Only the shamans can find the demons who pull you back, and
tell them to work with one another and with you. You have been
falling all morning like a man in the dark, and you are in danger.
Do you wish to turn around and follow your feet?
Then my head would be going in the wrong direction, I said.
We Westerners are cursed by our plans, as you suffer from lack
of them in your search for food. I must go on, even if my foot
catches under every root.
97
98
The compassion and warmth in Juans face helped me. Now

that he had spoken of it, I did not fall so often.
By noon, however, I was possessed by the thought of going back,
feeling that somewhere in the distant past I had seen not an Egyp
tian statue but Olan herself, and that I had failed her then and was
failing her again now. Juan looked at me perplexed, aware that
I was troubled. But my conviction that there was a rational ex
planation for everything soon came to my aid. The words and
images I had heard and seen must have come from my childhood;
and even if they had not, even if they were an echo from a more
distant past, there was no reason why that echo should not recur
in the future. I went on more easily than before. We traveled north,
stopping for a few days at each encampment along the way.
In the next two months I saw two funerals. The burial is an en
tirely different affair from the funeral feast, and I changed my
opinion about the Negritos capacity for sorrow. At the feast I
had reflected that they were hardly human, but when I saw them
actually burying loved ones, I repented my judgment. I realized
that the year or two which had elapsed between the death and the
funeral feast accounted for the seeming callousness of the guests.
At a funeral the ceremonial weeping continues all night before
the burial. The half-sung, half-wept laments are poems about the
deceased, expressing sentiments of appreciation and longing with
great simplicity. No humorous interludes are injected by the chil
dren, and the cumulative effect is overwhelming.
The first one we attended, a week after taking leave of our
friends in Bataan, was for a little girl of three. By now I could
understand most of the words of the short verses of the dirge. Each
verse seemed to voice some sentiment, idea, thought, or protest
which had been in the back of my own mind as I stumbled on the
trail north from Bataan. Over and over the mourners sang the verses
of the song. I joined in.
Each repetition took hold of a deeper layer of my past, until
at last I was seeing again, and weeping for, the pets which had died
in my childhood. In their work, in their healing, and in their sor
row, these people attained a degree of social unity and co-operation
which I had never observed before. As I heard and repeated the
words, I was carried along in a river of human action which made
individual effort unnecessary and which took me back into the past
NOMADS OF ZAMBALES
99
Eke a canoe on a gentle stream. From this Negrito funeral, and

from the healing trances I observed at the various encampments
I was learning that the group can help the individual to feel and
express emotions which are not otherwise available to him.
/ knew 1 could not have you long, Was I hearing the song, or
was this my mother crying at my brothers funeral, when I was
two? These words were spoken in English. How had they gotten
entangled in this Negrito song, and why did they release such pain
and terror inside me, making me feel feverish, as though I were
strangling under a load of blankets?
We did not mind it, little friend, when your crying awoke us
in the night The verse of the song brought back the picture of a
Negrito father and mother I had seen a week before, walking
around the fire, softly crooning to their distressed infant, whose
illness they did not understand. They had asked the spirits of plants,
the spirits of water, and the high god, to help them sustain the
slender thread of life in the frailbody, and had rocked it back and
forth in the narrow confines of their tiny leaf house, supplying it
warmth from their body against the pouring rain and the raw
mountain air.
As the verses were endlessly repeated, they aroused echoes in
mevoices which I could hear again out of my own forgotten
pastreleasing shock, pain, fear, and anguish, as though I had my
self returned to infancy. I fell into the same trancelike state of one
ness and agreement that I had experienced when I watched the
moonlike face of Un as she spoke with her queer, dumb gestures of
the mother spirit which was plaguing my life.
Before you were bom, l loved you, little one. / knew you be
fore you were born. Before you saw light, I knew of your gentle
nature from your movements inside my womb. Before you were
born, 1 heard your name
It seemed probable that these ceremonies helped prepare the
mind and personality of the Negritos for their journeys back to
infancy and to the spirit cave, in agreement with the healing sha
mans.
Every detail of the btirial is extremely important. The stick with
which the corpse is measured to determine the length of the grave
has to be broken and buried with the body. At the bottom of
the grave a shelf must be dug out, and under it the body is placed,
the head pointed toward the east. While the grave is being filled,
IOO
the footprints of whoever tamps the earth must be carefully erased

with a willow broom, to keep his soul from being imprisoned in
the grave with that of the deceased. There are ceremonial washings
for all who help to carry the body. Sacrifices of food must be left
by the grave. Throughout the whole procedure, the Negritos speak
to the departed spirit with advice, instructions, and magical com
mands, supplications, and prayers to Tolandian.
At the second burial, of the headman of a group, I watched a
subtle change in the emotions of the mourners. Love turned to
sorrow and sorrow became fear. With the closing of the grave,
fear turned to hatred. The father who had loved and protected his
family was gone, and a negative, destructive father had taken his
place in their minds. He symbolized the fearful unknown, and his
survivors would have to step carefully to avoid his wrath. They
threw rocks at the grave as they backed away, threatening to harm
the ghost if it should come near them. They did not look around,
once they had turned their backs on the grave.
As we traveled along the mountain trails in search of Negrito
bands not represented at our festival, we kept high enough to avoid
the leeches, and yet stayed below the level of the fogs which usually
shrouded the mountain peaks. The new bands we met did not like
me at first, and I could feel no confidence in them. I read suspicion
in their faces when I glanced up and caught them looking at me.
The feeling made me miserable.
One day I discovered the trouble. Since leaving Olan, I had
fallen into the habit of observing only the scaliness of the Negritos
diseased skin, the dirt on their faces, or their ugly scars and de
formities, and I was repelled by the odor of some of them. They
were conscious of this attitude. Earlier, I had had a friendly feeling,
and they had responded. I realized that I must stop disapproving of
these people. In this more northerly territory, if one person in a
group was suspicious of me, none of the others would thaw out and
co-operate. They were bound together by some mysterious force
or sympathy.
I resolved to look for my own good motives, my own friendli
ness, and my own virtues in every Negrito I met. Stimulated by
the fear that they would kill me if I fell short of my resolve, my
efforts succeeded admirably. Soon I felt a warmth in their reac
tion and lost my suspicion of them.
NOMADS OF ZAMBALES
IOI
From the Bataan peninsula we worked our way north along the
western slopes of the Zambales range of mountains, and by the
end of the second month we arrived at the northern border of the
district above the farm school at Villiar. So far we had been guided
from one encampment to another by friendly Negritos, but from
here on north we would have to search for the camps unaided.
The Villiar natives had long been the traditional enemies of the
more northerly groups and could not be persuaded to venture
farther north. But as Juan did not speak with a Villiar accent he
had no special reason to be afraid, and we went on without local
guides. Just above Villiar we encountered a group whose mem
bers, although no larger in stature than the Negritos, were much
less black than those of the other groups and looked like pygmy
versions of the Malays. Their dreams and test behavior did not,
however, differentiate them from the Negritos in any way that we
could see.
On the afternoon of our third day of hiking north of Villiar, we
met a young man on the trail. He disappeared as if by magic, but
Juan assured me that he must be with a group, and that although
the group would keep out of sight, they would watch us constantly
until they decided whether to attack us or to let us go on undis
turbed through their territory.
The best thing we can do, he said, is to make camp as soon
as possible and put out some presents for them so they will know
we are friendly and willing to pay for traveling through their ter
ritory. Then maybe we can get them to camp with us for a few
days if they are not too short of food.
The glimpse I had caught of the small but strongly built young
man was not reassuring. He had been so close that I had seen the
dark, crusted poison on his arrow tips, the sharp points of his
blackened teeth, and the long, powerful bow he held. Also, the
back of his head had been shaved, so that his hairline was a welldefined arc extending from behind one ear over his skull to the
other. As we walked along looking for a flat place in which to
camp, I fancied I could see him peering at me from the depth of
every shadow. Juan showed no agitation.
A band is out hunting or a group is on the move, he said. They
always have a guard out front ana one behind, so no one can sur
prise them. But that does not mean they wont be friendly. They
have to find out if others are following us down the trail, and they
102
wont show themselves until they have done some investigating and
have looked us over carefully.
Before we had gone half a mile we found a clearing on a little
spur and put down our packs to make camp. Juan placed some salt
on a smooth rock beside the trail, just out of sight of our clearing,
and we went ahead with our preparations for the night. In a half
hour Juan returned to the rock. Although we had seen nothing of
the Negritos and had heard no sound, the salt was gone. Juan put
out some more. This time he sat down beside it and chanted a little
song to an old Negrito tune he had learned from his mother in
early childhood, improvising the verses as he went along. The song
expressed the friendly purpose of our visit.
I remained in the clearing, where I could watch Juan. Suddenly,
there was a rustle in the leaves. From both sides of the trail, gleam
ing black figures stole out of the foliage. In an instant Juan was
surrounded by a half score of muscular little black men, alert and
menacing. An old man with a thin, straggling beard and graying
hair talked quietly to Juan for some time, periodically scratching
his ribs with his left thumb. Scooping up the salt, Juan put some
into the extended hands of the tribesmen. They all ate it greedily.
After a few more minutes of talk, most of the Negritos disappeared
up the trail, but the gray-haired man, whose name was Jabon, and
a couple of his older companions came with Juan to talk to me.
They will bring their camp up here for a day or two, said Juan.
Then if we wish to travel north, they will go to the end of their
territory with us.
He told the old men about me and explained that the natives were
supposed to shake hands with me, demonstrating how it was done.
Each Negrito in turn extended his hand. The scaly bodies and the
black stumped teeth were a strange contrast to the dignified
demeanor of the old Negritos. Their expressions were grave but
friendly. Juan fished out some tobacco and we all rolled cigarettes.
By this time I was becoming quite adept at smoking with the lighted
end in my mouth.
As we smoked, Juan jabbered away with them. Every now and
then, they would look up at me with expressions of growing won
der. I often asked Juan what he told the Negritos about me, but
all I could ever get out of him was: Oh, just about our work and
the blood brotherhood of all Christians. After awhile Jabon pro
duced from his loincloth a pack of betel leaves, some lime made by
NOMADS OF ZAMBALES
103
burning snail shells, and a few betel nuts. Cutting one of the nuts
open, he wrapped half of it in a leaf, sprinkled lime on it, added
a few shreds of very crumpled, black, sweat-soaked tobacco, and
handed it to me to chew. I was getting used to the ceremony by
now and was acquiring a taste for the betel. When I first crunched
it in my mouth, it was bitter. It had something of a coffee taste
which was not particularly agreeable, but I was learning to relax as
the numbness spread to my lips, gums, and tongue, and to permit
the wave of relaxation to filter down through my entire body.
Jabon and his companions helped Juan to build a floor for my
tent and started to construct their own shelters. Just before sun
set the rest of the Negrito band arrived. I never ceased being
startled by the quietness and rapidity with which these little peo)le moved. One minute we were alone, and the next minute a vilage had grown up around us.
This band was quite large, as Negrito communities go. There
were twelve men with families, five adolescent unmarried men,
and eight male children. The females were less numerousthere
were only the twelve wives, and four girls between the ages of
seven and twelve. A couple of babies completed the group. Even
though the sun was very low when the horde arrived, little wellmade houses were erected and firewood was gathered before dark.
The building of a Negrito camp always seemed miraculous.
To light the fire, one of the old men drove stakes into the ground,
slipped a piece of bamboo between them, cut a little niche in the
upper edge of the bamboo, fitted another shaft of bamboo into it,
and sawed vigorously for a few moments, while dropping cotton
like fuzz into the point of friction. Soon little wisps of smoke
issued from the pile of fuzz collecting on the ground. The old man
blew on it and it burst into flames. Dexterously, he picked it up,
wrapped it in a dry leaf, and blew on it again, tucking it under the
woodpile when it started to blaze. Usually one of the old women
carried a glowing ember along the trail, but this day, in the excite
ment of hearing about our arrival, she had lost it somewhere and
the fire had to be rekindled.
When the evening meal had been eaten, we sat around in the fire
light. The alert, tense expressions on the grimy faces of the Ne
gritos relaxed. Smiles began to twist the corners of their thick lips.
The Negritos smile and laugh a lot around the campfire, but I
always felt some discomfort at the sharpness of their chipped teeth.
IO4
In Bataan I had seen chipped teeth only among the older men. Juan
explained that the custom was dying out. It had been the practice
to chip the teeth when a boy reached the end of adolescence, after
the scarification was completed, and the Negritos of northern
Zambales still did so. All the upper front incisors were chipped. A
block of wood was held behind the tooth of the initiate, and the
point of a jungle knife was held diagonally against a corner of
the tooth. It was then struck a sharp blow with a rock. It was a
painful process, but the initiate was not allowed to cry out. If he
did, he had to wait another year to receive this badge of adulthood.
They said no one could be a good leader if he cringed at pain, and
one could not be trusted unless he was willing to suffer to become
one of the group.
The betel chewing colors the teeth of the young men a shocking
blood red. The teeth of the old men, blackened by a longer con
tact with the betel, are both ludicrous and horrifying.
That first night, as I tried to sleep with my back to the fire, I
pictured one of those poisonous arrows burying itself between my
shoulders, and wondered, listening to the wind and the jungle
sounds, if this crazy image was a premonition or a fear. At last I
decided it offered no protection, whichever it was. Sometime in
the future, the moment of death would arrive. I could bring that
moment down to the present in fantasy, but one could use the
imagination to see better things than death.
I went to sleep.
In the vicinity of the camp were some ant colonies. I had never
thought of ants as anything but pests. When Juan told me that the
Negritos were hunting them, I was mystified. What did the Negri
tos own that could be harmed by ants? To my surprise, I learned
that the ants were not attacking the Negritos or their property.
The Negritos were eating the ants.
Old Jabon, the head shaman of the group, sat down by an ant
hole and scratched it gently. When the big honey ant looked out,
he picked him up by the head and motioned for me to bite off his
abdomen. The taste was sweet; it was like eating berries the size of
navy beans. Strangely enough, the idea of biting the ants instead of
being bitten by them appealed to me.
By the end of the afternoon I felt as satisfied as if I had eaten
chocolate. Learning to eat the ants was an interesting game. I
NOMADS OF ZAM BALES
105
became quite expert before we left the camp, but sometimes I failed
to watch for those returning to the hole and was nipped from the
rear.
That morning one of the young men had reported a dream of
seeing me speared by a tree demon. I had paid little attention to
the warning, but as the pain from the first ant bite shot up into my
leg, I suddenly remembered the tree demon with an overwhelming
pang of fear. The Negritos were alarmed by the howl I emitted.
Then, seeing what had happened, they were much amused. They
are very sensitive to creeping things, and were amazed that an ant
could crawl up my leg without my being aware of it.
As food was scarce at our camping place, the old men decided
that we would move on early the next morning to a fruit grove,
a days journey further north. Reluctantly, I left the warmth of
my bedroll for the raw, cold air. But for the dawn smell of the
earth and the imbecile chatter of the monkeys, I would not have
believed it was daybreak as we shouldered our packs and were
assigned our places among the Negritos.
A thick mountain fog saturated the air, converting the world
into a hollow, leaden sphere through which trees and rocks passed
silently as we marched along the narrow, slippery trail. Gradually,
the sphere grew larger, turned from lead to slate, and then became
a sickly gray, while the grim little black people bobbed noiselessly
up and down, and the dripping moss-covered wall of the jungle
loomed in front of us and disappeared behind. To avoid revealing
the presence of the group to possible enemies or frightening away
the game, no one in the marching line spoke a word.
The clammy fog condensing on my face was like a death mask.
Suddenly, through the fog on the descending side of the trail, I
saw a towering black rock. Those ahead had stopped and were
facing its gleaming, pitted surface in a semicircle, mumbling in
hushed, unnatural voices.
There is a demon in the rock, said Juan. He owns the canyon
ahead of us, and we must join the others in giving him some tobacco
before it will be safe to go over the portion of the trail he guards.
Glancing up, I could see the cliff above, from which the rock
giant beside us, and many others like him, had come tumbling down
the steep hill, carving swaths through the heavy jungle foliage. Be
fore we had paused three minutes, I was shivering in the raw moun
tain air. A wind howled down the canyon and now the fog was
IO6
filled with tiny stinging drops of moisture. How could human

beings live in the midst of such desolation!
We must give some tobacco for the spirit, said Juan.
I nodded my assent, and the line moved on. Again the natives
were immersed in a silence more disturbing than the gibberish they
had spoken to the rock and the freezing discomfort of the stinging
rain.
Since the pause at the rock, all the sympathy I had ever felt for
these people had begun turning into resentment. Why had the old
graybeard Jabon changed his place to walk next to me, making
Juan step back behind him? Why had he been dogging my foot
steps since we left the rock?
For awhile we climbed, and as we topped a little ridge and
started down, the man ahead of me made a gesture toward a tree
to the left of the trail. It was slippery underfoot, and I reached for
the tree to steady myself. As I did so, the shadowy figure behind
me shouted something almost in my ear. Then I felt his hand in
my hair jerking me backward. My feet flew from under me and
I sat down with a thud.
I sat there blinking stupidly. My forebodings of evil were
groundless. Now Juan was standing by my side, pointing excitedly
to a large caterpillar on the tree. The old man scraped it onto his
knife blade and showed me some fine black spines concealed by
the greenish-yellow hairs which covered its body.
The tree demon was about to stab you with the caterpillar
spines, said Juan. When they penetrate your flesh, they break off
and release a poison. If you had leaned against that tree, you would
have lost your hand, if not your life.
Again the whole band assembled on the trail. This time a cere
mony was directed toward the tree demon.
Old Jabon said there was danger ahead for you on the trail,
said Juan. Thats why he insisted on walking behind you, but I
thought he was afraid of the falling rocks. Now he has admitted
that his familiar spirit was warning him of the tree demon.
Jabon then went into a trance to find out in what way I had
offended the spirit of the tree, and how I could make restitution.
Speaking with a different voice, which all believed to be that of
his spirit guide, Jabon told us that I was possessed of an unfriendly
witch spirit, white as a cloud, which did not like me to leave my
native land. This spirit hated strange people and strange places, and
NOMADS OF ZAMBALES
IO7
would get me into trouble wherever I went, unless it was either

drawn out of me or forced to give up its opposition and work for
me. Juan was requested to put a red cloth around my neck, which
Jabon, still in his trance, pulled back and forth awhile, so the spirit,
who liked red, would take hold of it. Then he let go of one end
and snapped it from around my neck to dislodge the spirit. I was
also asked to pay Jabon a handful of salt, a few grains of which
he deposited on the tree trunk. I wondered if Juan had told the
old man about Uns diagnosis, as this one sounded much the same
as hers. He denied having discussed it with anyone. I willingly paid
the fine.
As we walked on, the silence was no longer oppressive. The fog
which had shut me in before now formed a silver web tying to
gether the rocks, the feathery mountains, the Negritos, and the
past and the future. Later, as we crossed the prostrate trunk of a
great tree which spanned a torrent, my depression of the morning
was entirely gone. In its place I had a warm feeling for the lady
spirit of the river, whom I fancied I could see in the amber foam
below. In the early morning my mood had not been that of giv
ing. I had bought the rock for the shred of tobacco I had laid by
its side, rather than presenting the tobacco as a gift, and I had had
the feeling that the rock was mine to hate.
The Negritos had left the rock behind as their friend and ally.
Their fear had changed to confidence through the sacrificial ex
pression, mine to disgust and hostility. I had been crediting the
rock and the Negritos with my ugly mood, rather than with my
good motives and good will.
But now the passage along the trail no longer suggested a grim
march of prisoners. I was walking with them, stepping carefully,
so that no twig would snap to warn away the mouse deer as he
drummed proudly for his mate on a hollow log.
In late afternoon the young man who walked ahead of the line
bagged a deer. His pride as he sat carelessly beside the carcass wait
ing for us to approach was mine. His only reward for the kill was
a feeling that he had been important to the group, but his expres
sion as he minimized his deed, which was much praised, and later
as he watched them eating the meat, refusing the better cuts him
self, showed that his reward was great.
In America, I had never felt love for the butcher, the farmer, or
the shoemaker because of the services he performed for me. Now,
108
as I longed for a glimpse of Olan, as I opened and shut the hand

which I would have lost but for the vigilance of old Jabon, as I
tasted the roasted meat which was mine through the skill, patience,
and generosity of the frizzy-haired, black young man before me,
I repented of the bored, depressed, and shallow feelings I had had so
often in my own land
The next morning, I watched fearfully while the children scram
bled high up the durian trees to bring down the odd-smelling yel
low fruit. I was astonished at the number of opportunities afforded
each member of a Negrito group to feel important. The wisdom
of the old men and women, and their knowledge of jungle lore,
the strength and courage of the young men, the bubbling activity
of the children, all found expression in the daily routine. The chil
dren were not scolded for their recklessness, and no one suggested
that they would fall and break their necks. Indeed, such a sugges
tion was considered black magic. Surprisingly, nobody did hurt
himself, though hairbreadth escapes were frequent. The sense of
rivalry was keen among them, yet their only reward was the knowl
edge that everyone could eat more because of their personal efforts
and bravery.
The dreams I collected on the morning of the second day at the
orchard were nearly all of climbing or falling. It was obvious that
the fear of the actual situation, which the children resisted while
they were in the trees, was expressed in their dreams at night.
And it was not only the children who had these terror dreams of
falling. Two of the old men also dreamed that the climbers had
fallen.
The fruit diet was not quite as monotonous as the honey-ant
diet had been, because we were able to obtain fruit bats. A number
of them hung head down in the trees. If they were too high to be
reached by a rattan loop at the end of a long pole, the Negritos
shot them with their arrows. The fruit bat, after cleaning, is about
the size of a small cat, and the meat is delicious. Juan and I always
added a handful of rice to the Negrito diet; the greens, fruit, and
meat left me hungry no matter how much I ate. After five days at
this camp, all the fruit bats had been killed or frightened away,
and we moved on.
In the late afternoon of the next day, Igun, the young man who
had speared the deer a few days before, had a curious accident. On
NOMADS OF ZAMBALES
109
a level section in the trail, over which even the children traveled
without difficulty, he plunged his foot under a protruding root,
wrenching his ankle. I was astonished at the incident, since he and
all the other Negritos had the tendency, which I had seen in Juan
that first afternoon in the saloon, to lift their feet high even when
there was nothing to step over. The next morning, when we called
at his lean-to to make our daily poll of the dreams of the night
before, Igun was talking to a group of young men about a dream
which, he said, wa$ removing the pain from his sprained ankle.
The root over which Igun had stumbled the previous afternoon
had appeared to him in the dream as a gnarled, bent old man, and
announced that he would pursue Igun forever, if he, Igun, did not
retrace his steps the following day and leave a tobacco leaf on the
root spirits humped back, which stuck out of the ground.
I went along with Igun and his friends to observe what hap
pened at the root as a result of his dream. He put a few shreds of
tobacco on the root, apologized for his clumsiness in kicking it,
and invited us all to join in the sacrifice. We left tobacco along with
his, and set off on the double to catch up with the group. I felt
that the effort of keeping up with them as they hurried back was a
small enough price to pay for what I had seen. Here was the birth
of a ceremony, an institution, from the creative genius of a human
being. To me it was like a seed falling into the soil of the teeming
social jungle. As long as Igun lived, each time he chanced to pass
that way, he would leave some little token by the root, along with
a little prayer of apology and good will. If his son were with him
when he left the tobacco leaf, the son would inherit the ceremony,
and his sons son. The sociability which the incident occasioned
when his friends went back with him to the root gave the spot a
special significance for them as well.
As we hurried along the trail to catch up with the group, Igun
appeared to be talking to himself. Later I learned that he was mak
ing up a song, both words and music, to the spirit of the crooked
root. He told Juan that the song had completely taken the pain of
the sprained ankle from his mind. He said the spirit of the root was
teaching the song to him as he walked. The spirit would be his
friend and the friend of his children and his childrens children, so
long as they sang this song and paid the tribute. The root spirit
would help him to walk more skillfully through the jungle, and to
avoid offending other roots by kicking them. I had no doubt that
IIO
the memory of the root, which was now in his mind as an image
and a pain, and the creative process wrhich had been set up as a
distraction to the pain, would certainly protect him from stubbing
his toe in the future.
I found that he had had a number of accidents, all of which had
led to songs and dances. Although the Negritos did not have the
word for it, he was an artist. Some inner creative demon seemed
bent on punishing him, if he did not constantly create something or
other. In the West, we would call him accident prone, but his
Negrito culture had helped him to utilize the offending root image
in accordance with an inner need for emotional release and expres
sion. His song gave pleasure to the whole group and won for Igun
applause and recognition. I had never heard more gripping music
than the gypsylike tune which he produced. And the strange con
flicting emotions which the grumpy old root character revealed
in the dance which Igun performed that night made it as interest
ing as any I had ever seen.
After this ceremony, I had the feeling that the Negritos forgot
with a vengeance, as though they were saying, My inner self is
so complicated that I will keep the outside world simple. Since
creation is as necessary to the life of the soul as food is to the life
of the body, I will not record my creation and take away the audi
ence from my fellows less gifted than myself, or from myself in
the future.
Once I had discovered some reason for the Negrito ceremonies,
and seen how they enriched, enlivened, and socialized the long
drab hours of the food quest, I found it possible to think of them
with pleasure, and I felt myself entering into them more and more
as the days went by.
Another two days march brought us to a little plateau where
there were fields of plants which looked like parsnips. These tubers
must be treated to remove the poison they contain when fresh. The
Negritos dig a pit and store the tubers away to sour for a few
months. When they are ready for eating, they taste like a com
bination of sauerkraut and limburger cheese.
By now we were getting well on toward the northern border of
the territory in which this group ranged. We had tested and re
tested everyone. In both the Porteus Maze and the Goodenough
Draw-A-Man tests, the scores ceased improving at the seven-year
NOMADS OF ZAMBALES
III
age level. The only tests that could be used with the adults were the
Sympathy Test and the Metal Maze. Like the Bataan Negritos,
they did about as well in these as any of the other groups I had
tested.
Nor did the childrens dreams differentiate them from the other
groups. They also drew splendid pictures of animals, trees, and
flowers, which showed that the Negritos ability to analyze and
synthesize symbolically in drawing was not inferior to that of
other races, although their conventional way of drawing a man
prevented them from getting a score of more than seven years on
the Draw-A-Man Test.
In the agreement trance state, which I induced when I gave them
medicines, these men, who had had little or no contact with West
ern civilization, were not noticeably different from their fellows
on the Bataan peninsula. Neither did the Emotional Response and
Progressive Fantasy tests set them apart from the othersuntil
adolescence. At this point the poor memories of the Negritos be
came evident. The incidents of fear, shame, pain, humor, and the
like which were mentioned by those taking the Emotional Re
sponse Test were usually chosen from the very recent past. The
answers showed no consistent trends to differentiate them from
the children or, except for the recency of the incidents, from the
racial groups of Hawaii.
In the Progressive Fantasy Test the responses of the older per
sons did not tend to include larger and larger groups of national
and international importance, as they did in Hawaii. This was not
surprising. As far as this little band was concerned, there was no
human world outside which threatened to influence them or which
they desired to influence. They would bargain for wives with the
bordering hordes and would die fighting to defend their territory.
The best thing that could happen was to live long and find favor
with the spirits which could give good luck, health, food, and a
child or two who would live and find favor with the spirits. A man
might wish to become a great father, a great healer, a great hunter,
a great storyteller. The worst things that could happen were ill
ness, hunger, uncontrollable rage, accidents, and a dearth of fe
males in the neighboring groups, which would make it difficult
to obtain a wife.
Unlike their waking accounts, the accounts which they gave
in the agreement trance of the worst things that had happened, did
I 12
not consist entirely of recent memories. In the trance state they

showed ability to return, in memory, to pain incidents of childhood
and infancy, and to the spirit cave, as they did in the healing cere
monies.
During my last evening with this band, I asked old Jabon to
cure the cyst on my arm, which Uns infant guide had described
as a feminine spirit eating my vitals. I had come to know him as a
shaman and respected his wisdom and strength. Again I lied about
the cyst, saying that it was painful and distressed me greatly. But
I did not fool the Negrito patriarch. When he went into his trance,
the spirit of the wild pig with which he was possessed informed
me that I should not have the cyst removed, that I did not really
wish it removed.
That cyst is your luck, said the old man. I will not prescribe
any medicine to remove it from your arm. You do not really wish
it to be removed. You are not sincere in the request which you have
made.
None of the Negritos resented the incident. I could not quite
decide if they felt that I was trying to test their medicine, or if
they thought that I was mistaken about the cyst. But whatever
they thought of me, they accepted the old mans diagnosis and were
much amused by it. .
That night, just after the ceremony, an airplane flew over the
mountains, close enough for us to hear its roar and see its lights.
It was going north, perhaps on its way to Hong Kong from Manila.
The next morning, as a last request, the old men of the band asked
us for rice to put out as a sacrifice to the great birds which of
late had been flying over their territory. We gave it to them and
performed a little ceremony which, we assured them, would make
the bird-men their friends in case any of them ever fell into their
territory. They were more grateful for this bit of magic than for
anything else we had done for them. When we departed, I felt that
I was leaving behind some of the best friends I had in the world.
Two days later we came across another campsite, but the Ne
gritos apparently had seen us coming and had left hurriedly. In
spite of the salt and tobacco we put out, none of them returned.
The next day we could find no sign of their campfire, and there was
nothing to indicate in what direction they had fled.
After hiking another two and a half days, we met a small group
on the trail, and for one night we camped with them. One of the
NOMADS OF ZAMBALES
11 3
old men had fought in a war against the Lowlanders years before.
Nothing we could do or say had any effect on his unfriendly at
titude. They accepted our salt and tobacco and gave us some food
in exchange, but we were not welcome to stay more than one night
with them. One of the young men went with us for some distance
to carry my pack, but Juan felt that he was only interested in
peeping track of us until we were out of their territory.
E*
TEN
Typhoon
JLHE next group we founda

week laterwas larger, and the old men were friendly. They had
had some contact with Filipino traders, and had heard of white
men. They were co-operative from the start, both in taking our
tests and in telling Juan and myself about their dreams and their
ideas on the origin and structure of the universe. Through their cer
emonies the Negritos were constantly encouraged to go back to the
beginning of life, to the incidents which had accumulated as indi
gestible fragments of experiences so painful that their images were
enemies and strangers when discovered again.
As the shamans became acquainted in their trances with these
strangers and enemies, and destroyed them or converted them into
allies, the trail of the trances led further and further back, until
at last they found Tolandian, the Creator.
During the many hours of each month which the Negrito shaman
spent in trance, he searched for answers to the mysterious prob
lems of mans illness; he was always looking deeper and deeper
u4
TYPHOON
ll5
into himself for these answers, until at last he appeared to see back
to the beginning of himself, to the moment of creation or concep
tion.
We had collected enough Negrito dreams now to confirm defi
nitely the trend I had noted earlier among the people who had
assembled for the funeral feast of Ogongs father. Everywhere the
dreams of the shamans and aspiring shamans proved more compli
cated than those of other people. They had features in them which
were not found in the dreams of children and adults who had not
received shamanistic treatment. This indicated strongly that a deep
personality reorganization took place as the patient worked with
the shaman in the agreement trance, and that this type of relation
ship with the shaman encouraged, strengthened, and directed the
natural inner will to health, so that even while the patient was
asleep it went on working toward the health of the individual and
reorganizing inner patterns.
It did not seem strange that mans mind should work while he
was asleep, as well as while he was awake, to cure his illness. It did
seem strange, however, that the shamanistic treatment should ena
ble the patient to dream more extensively and more effectively than
people who were not receiving such treatment, and that the sha
mans image and the characters he worked with in the co-operative
trance should go on working for the patient in his dreams.
In this camp we met Gloc, a young adult who was in the process
of becoming a medicine man. He had been periodically ill for years,
and each time his illness returned the older men worked patiently
to help him gain mastery over the spirit of the fountain which at
tacked him. The shamans agreed that Gloc must have made many
bargains with this spirit before he emerged from the spirit cave
into the world.
They said that all shamans went through similar periods of
struggle with their familiar spirits. These spirits were sometimes
masculine, sometimes feminine, and sometimes monsters having
both masculine and feminine characteristics. Sometimes the strug
gle lasted for years. With others it was over quickly. Some spirits
were very powerful; others were not much help to the individual
or the community, even after they had been mastered. A shaman
might become famous in his group and even be sent for by friendly
groups, if his advice proved wise and if his medicine made people
well. They explained the difficulty in controlling the spirit of the
II6
fountain on the basis of the fact that it was feminine and all women
are fickle.
As we talked to the old shamans I noticed that everyone was
more animated than usual. Even the sky seemed different. The night
was clear, yet there were few stars. Those which did appear had a
peculiar luster, an amber sheen which I had never seen before.
I found myself wondering if Glocs amber-colored lady of the
fountain were responsible. After my experience with Uns infant
guide I could believe almost anything.
The air had substance, some strange nutriment which fed the
imagination. Before I knew it, the sun was thrusting its glowing rim
over the eastern ridge of the canyon. As it swung clear of the treetops, I had the frightening feeling that I had never seen it before:
something was masquerading as the sun. It was not shedding its
customary light, and seemed only a showpiece, a glowing artificial
sun from some stage setting. Everyone noticed the strangeness of
this sunrise, and stood around as though waiting for the scene to
change. At any moment I expected Glocs spirit of the amber foun
tain to step out from behind the sun and sing us her spirit song, or
to throw it back down behind the horizon.
The men did not go looking for food, as was their habit in the
morning. The women left their digging sticks lying unused be
neath the little banana-leaf shelters. The children took no inter
est in their usual games. Everyone talked in voices which became
more and more subdued, until they were whispers. Something was
most certainly about to happen.As the day passed, the wind grew stronger. Shortly after noon,
I put away my testing materials. The Negritos were only giving
half a mind to the problems. Juan wrapped up our packs in the
tarpaulin and stored them in the hollow of a big tree. He said that
we were in for wind and much rain. The Negritos strengthened
their leaf shelters and brought dry sticks for the fire. The sun
looked more and more like a theatrical prop.
The old men formed a dancing circle and began to sing, one
following another. We sat down beside them to record the words
part prayer, part song, part lamentwhich they were singing.
The suspense of the morning turned to terror as the wind became
a gale, filling the air with leaves and twigs, and our ears with the
sound of crashing limbs against a background of hoarse, unearthly
groans. The men tore handfuls of hair from their scalps and threw
TYPHOON
1 17
them on a burning log, the only part of the fire which had not
been blown away.
One after another, the little leaf shelters were picked up and
carried into the air like toy balloons. The Negritos went for refuge
to the cleft of a huge rock which stood nearby.
Before twilight the sky resembled an inverted copper bowl, and
even in the sheltering cleft of the rock the wind blew the breath
from my body. Talking was impossible. There was a blinding flare
of lightning, and the Negrito universe exploded. Then came the
rain, a merciless torrent of water so thick that it seemed to run
about in the air instead of falling. The Negritos congealed into
knots of human flesh, and found their voices. The prayers which
they had been mumbling in the afternoon were now poured out
as screams flowing up from their stomachs and their hearts, con
vulsing their bodies with violence. With a grim expression, Juan
explained to me that a typhoon was approaching and that we were
probably in the very center of its path.
One can never tell what these people will do when they become
afraid, he muttered. If this thunder goes on for long, God knows
what will happen to us. The Negritos believe the thunder is the
angry voice of Tolandian condemning them. Last night the old
men told us many of their secrets and they may blame us for this
thunder.
Some forty of us were huddled in that narrow cleft. With the
downpour of rain had come blackness as deep as midnight. For
the first time since I had been with them, the natives had to face
the night without the friendly glow of the blazing fires which
formed the nucleus of their camp.
The hoarse mutter of the water, the scream of crashing timbers,
and the earsplitting bombardment of thunder gave evidence of
danger from every side. If the brook that ran alongside the rock
grew full enough, it would wash us from our shelter. If any of
the trees being mangled before our eyes fell into the cleft, we would
be ground to jelly. One flash from that yellow-tongued lightning,
descending from every quarter, might bum us to cinders.
Several members of the group, separated from the others by the
taboo of the menstrual period, the incest taboo, or the father-inlaw taboo, sat, like lepers, almost entirely outside the protection
of the rock. I was trembling. One of the Negritos near me leaped
into the air with a scream that penetrated the wall of sound thrown
118
up by the typhoon. In his right hand he- clasped his jungle knife,
the sharp edge gleaming in the lightning almost directly above me.
Small tongues of flame played on its glittering point with a dry,
crackling sound. This is the end, I thought. My body shriveled,
as though attempting to shrink out of sight into the tiny crevices
of the rough surface on which I was lying.
It is enough, Old Man, the Negrito roared in a voice which was
huge for his small figure. The lightning illuminated the cords and
veins on his neck, giving him the distorted perspective of a photo
graphic image. I admit my guilt. I have blasphemed your name by
saying Bee when I was angry. I have insulted your earthworms
and laughed at your monkeys. I am sorry for my sins. Please ac
cept my sacrifice.
I could only shrink further into the crevices of the rock and
wait for the knife, as though hypnotized by the tiny flames which
played on its descending point. But I was not the sacrifice the
Negrito had in mind. The knife described an arc above me as he
bent over, and found its way to the inner surface of his own thigh,
cutting a gash in the skin. He caught the blood in his cupped hands.
Some drops spattered upon me as he leaped to the edge of the cleft.
The warm drops seemed to burn into my skin like coals. Illuminated
there in the flares of lightning, leaning hard against the wind, he
threw his hands skyward. The rain washed the blood from his
hands and arms, and from the wound in his thigh.
Before the storm subsided, I saw others make the blood sacrifice
to the angry god of thunder. Each time a Negrito bounded out
into the rain, my own blood bounded to my forehead, neck, and
cheeks. Each time I felt a sting of shame that I should be so fright
ened and horrified by the performance. Toward morning the in
cessant pounding of the thunder became more and more like the
rhythm of a drum.
As the storm abated, I inquired of Juan if he had ever seen the
blood sacrifice before, and he said that he had not. We inquired
about it of the old men. It had been performed at a previous storm
many years before. They said they used it when they could not
burn the hair sacrifice because rain had put the fire out. They did
not know whether other bands of the Zambales also practiced it,
or whether it was an invention of their own group.
The second morning after the typhoon I awoke from fitful sleep
to find my body covered with welts. I itched all over. Wherever
TYPHOON
119
I scratched a new welt appeared. Juan looked very grave as he

examined them.
You have sopot-sopot, he said. You must slap the welts when
they itch. If you scratch them, you will die.
I spent the day slapping myself. The sting felt soothing, but at
night I often awoke to find I had been scratching in my sleep. Be
fore noon I had so many chafed areas that I was beginning to run
a temperature. Juan poured alcohol on me at intervals, and fanned
me so the evaporation would lower my temperature. I got some
sleep, but our alcohol was exhausted in one night. The slightest
skin abrasion is dangerous in the tropics. The warm, moist atmos
phere incubates germs and fungi with great rapidity.
Juan insisted we must find medical treatment at once. We were
only a few days journey from the main road, where we could
catch a bus to the city of Bangued, capital of the mountain province
of Abra. Juan had a friend there who would be able to find a place
for us, and we could obtain medicine from the district health
officer. We decided to leave the next morning.
Two young Negritos went along with us to carry my pack and
show us the trail. Three days of hiking brought us to a Filipino
trading station near the barrio of Mangatarem, on the main road,
where we caught the evening bus to Bangued.
ELEVEN
The Sopot-Sopot Demon
W
en we arrived, Juan looked
up his friends family. He had agreed to stay with me a month
without further salary. In fact, he was so anxious to visit his friend
that he suggested paying half the expenses if necessary. Juans
friend was not at home, but his sister volunteered to help us find
a lodging, and led us to a two-story house which she said was for
rent. I had already spent half my money and explained that I could
not possibly rent such a big place, but the girl insisted that we talk
to the woman who owned it.
The bottom floor was occupied by some chickens, a water
buffalo, a lamb, and a couple of mangy dogs. We threaded our
way through the livestock and called out at the foot of the stair
way in the center of the house. Three young women, all in their
teens, appeared. They were friends of our guide. One of them
fetched her mother from a neighbors house. We explained that
I had sopot-sopot but not much money.
The father of the family had died a year or two before and the
widowed mother was in desperate circumstances. She wanted
120
THE SOPOT-SOPOT DEMON
12 I
thirty-five pesos a month for her house, but if we could not pay
more, she was prepared to rent us the top half for fifteen. Sopotsopot was a dangerous disease and she would not allow me to leave
and go back into the mountains. I felt very embarrassed at accept
ing the rental of the house for so small a sum, and suggested that
I could live in the bottom half quite well, but that was not agree
able.
We were installed in the house. The landlady, Mrs. Salvador,
with her three daughters, Conscientious, Conception, and Candid,
moved down to the ground floor. She asked us, please, not to men
tion how much we were paying for the house, and explained that
people would not accept us socially if they knew of my financial
difficulties.
The next day Juan and I went down to the high school with the
three girls. The student body was composed of a great variety of
the groups. A few of the students had Negrito blood. There were
a good number of Igorots, together with a few Bontocs and some
members of other groups from higher up in the mountains. The
teachers were quite willing to excuse their pupils from class so
they could take the mental tests and were glad to co-operate in
my collection of dreams. Before the day was over, the testing
program was well under way.
Three days later the doctor arrived in town, and he shook his
head gravely at the condition of my skin. He had known people
to die from erysipelas or other skin infections resulting from sopotsopot, and was not nearly so confident as Juan had been that his
medicines would cure the condition. I must be tied, spread-eagle
fashion, in bed at night, he said, so I would not further irritate my
skin by scratching in my sleep. He left ointments of various sorts
with which I was to be rubbed from head to foot. He prepared
various drugs which he hoped might restore my chemical balance.
Leaving me a supply of medicine, he promised to return in two
weeks to see how I was progressing.
In the daytime we went on with the testing, and I followed the
prescribed course of treatment. The chafed areas cleared up, but
each day I grew weaker and more nervous, and my skin became
increasingly sensitive. Sleep was almost impossible.
The doctor changed his prescription on his second visit. As he
was leaving, he said, It is hard to tell where nervousness leaves off
and chemistry begins. If you have not recovered in two more
122
weeks, I will have to take you to the General Hospital in Manila.

Perhaps they can do something for you down there.
On his first visit, he had suggested that the trouble might have
arisen from my diet, but since then Juan and Mrs. Salvador and
all her friends had been co-operating to supply the diet he had
recommended, and it had not helped.
As the days wore on and my condition became steadily worse,
it was obvious that something drastic would have to be done.
Everyone in the village suggested some kind of medicine, food, or
charm. One morning my landlady appeared with a determined
look.
All night long you were moaning and crying out in your sleep,
she said. For three weeks now you have become worse every day.
Every night you struggle harder and cry out more often. Every
day you become weaker and more pale. Medicine cant help you.
We have all suspected that. Food cant help you. You are possessed
of a devil, and unless you receive supernatural aid, you will die.
We have seen the sopot-sopot devil kill many people. We knew
the doctor could not help you, and we have been praying for you
in the church. The saints would like to help you, but they have not
lived long in the Philippines. We have burned many candles for
you before the saints, and they would have helped you before now
if they could.
You are possessed of the sopot-sopot devil and to cure you we
must commit the great sin of asking the help of people who have
traffic with this devil. My son had sopot-sopot and the saints could
not cure him either, but a native woman was able to help him when
everything else had failed. I have sent word to the witch doctor
who can coax the sopot devil out of your body into her own, but
she is very old. She lives in the nearby village of Bokai and is so
famous that she will not come unless I go after her and pay her
the fee in advance. You must give me ten pesos so I can bring her
to treat you. It is your only chance. Already you look like a ghost.
I looked at her in bewilderment. A protest formed in my mind,
but I never voiced it. It would be an opportunity to observe some
of the ancient magic.
I gave her the fee, and Juan accompanied her to the neighboring
village to bring back the magical paraphernalia. He returned late
that night laden with a curious assortment of medicines and equip
ment. I looked at them with misgiving. There were herbs, roots,
I 2J
leaves, brightly colored berries, the barks of various trees, a huge

clay pot and a big stone bowl, bones and bits of hide and feathers,
and a lot of dried-up odds and ends which I could not identify.
Juan, having been instructed most carefully by the old witch
doctor, chopped up the berries, herbs, and roots, and put them in
the pot. Two gallons of water were added, filling it to the brim.
Juan built a fire and set the concoction on the coals to boil.
Toward morning I contrived to sleep with the aid of pills left
by the doctor. When I opened my eyes, I felt as though I were still
in a dream. Juan was bending over me, undoing the straps from my
arms and legs. In the middle of the floor, under a big hardwood
chair, was the stone bowl, full of glowing coals. Leaning over it,
wielding a dirty feather fan and muttering incantations, was an
incredibly old woman, whose face, under stringy gray hair, was
a mass of wrinkles.
The next thing I saw was a long, glittering knife which lay on the
floor by the womans side. The handle was of water-buffalo horn,
carved in the shape of a distorted human body. The edge had been
freshly whetted to razor sharpness. On the other side of the woman
was a pile of folded blankets, and in front of the chair sat the huge
pot.
Still half awake, I was escorted to the chair. Hot from the radia
tion of the jar of coals beneath it, the seat burned me slightly. I
protested weakly at the prospect of being broiled alive. But the
old woman had instructed all her assistants well, and the family and
neighbors obeyed her orders briskly.
Layer after layer of blankets was tightly swathed around me
and the brazier of coals under the chair, until only my face was
left uncovered. The jar was moved close to the chair and Juan
thrust a reed into my gaping mouth. Drink, he said.
I sucked up a mouthful of the scalding liquid. It tasted like the
essence of gall. I coughed, and the greenish fluid trickled over my
chin.
You must drink, said Juan pleadingly. You must drink all the
water from the pot. Until you have done so, the ceremony cannot
be completed. The sopot devil hates the taste of those plants above
everything else on earth, and he will never leave you until he fears
their juices are drowning him. I took another pull at the reed and
decided that I fully shared the sopot devils opinion of the beverage.
As I started to swallow, an old man, whom I had not previously
124
noticed, began to beat out a slow, odd rhythm on a drum made

from a hollow log covered with snakeskin. The old woman was
now sitting cross-legged beside the pot in front of me, mumbling.
She thumbed the edge of a long knife, which she kept showing to
me. Suddenly, my stomach rebelled and I struggled to keep it from
spewing up the bitter liquid I was drinking. The old woman
screamed and leaped into the air, wildly swinging the knife so close
that it fanned my face as it passed, chilling me from head to foot.
Again she shouted and swung the knife at me, and I felt its breeze
on the other cheek. Desperately, I appealed to Juan, but he was
deaf to all voices except hers and was watching the knife like one
hypnotized.
Once more the reed was thrust into my mouth. Now the danger
of being roasted or poisoned was not so immediate as the threat of
that glittering bolo. Again I began to drink, and each time nausea
gripped my stomach, one glance from the knife to the crazy, de
termined eyes of the old woman cleared it up like magic. When
ever she screamed at me I felt the perspiration start from every
pore. Soon it dripped from my forehead and ran down my legs and
arms, feeling like a procession of ants. I noticed a tiny stream of it
flowing out from my feet across the floor and through the corner
of the doorlike Spanish window.
The old hag began to walk around the chair, mumbling to the
rhythm of the drum. Each time she passed in front of me she shook
the knife in my face and screamed. I could not tell what she was
saying, but the fanatical look in her eyes convinced me that my
head would be lopped off if I stopped drinking for an instant.
Juan came over and peered into the jug.
It is going down, he assured me. She has commanded the
sopot demon to stop squeezing your stomach. He wont be able
to make you vomit again.
The woman is mad, I concluded. She has forgotten me en
tirely and thinks only of the demon. She would probably think
nothing of killing me to release me from it.
I went on gulping. It was a bit easier to swallow now. My sense
of taste was deadened and I was learning to drink to the rhythm
of the drum.
Half the liquid is gone, said Juan at last. You will soon be
well.
I was certain that I would soon be dead. I was drinking auto-
I2 5
matically. The mumbling of the old woman had grown into a song,
and that song, combined with the rhythm of the drum, had taken
hold of my throat. Each time she passed before me, my eyes
fastened on the knife. No longer was she staggering as though she
were a hundred years old. Instead, her bare feet were taking hold
of the smooth board floor with a youthful step. The rhythm of
the drum became faster, and the pitch of the womans voice
gradually rose.
At last the fluid got so low that Juan turned up the pot and stood
it on its side, and finally he removed it. All I could do was sit and
wait. Either the liquid or the heat was making me feel faint. Sud
denly the drumming changed to a furious pounding. The old
woman screamed, leaped high in the air, and fell to the floor, her
body stiff.
My head cleared. The witch doctor was in a trance, writhing
before me like a dying snake. The impulse to scratch my skin had
left me and a great burden seemed to have been lifted from me. The
blankets were unwrapped, and the old man who had beaten the
drums inspected me, scratching here and there. No welt appeared.
They led me to the bed.
You are cured, said the old man. Now you must sleep. I
obeyed. Late the next afternoon, I was awakened by Juan. His
eyes were full of tears.
You have not moved since you went to sleep, he said. The
sopot devil is really gone. Soon we will be able to go back to
Zambales.
Maybe I wont be able to go back with you, I answered. Last
time the doctor was here he said I would have to stay out of the
Lowland heat for awhile even after I recovered. He mentioned
Baguio and if that climate doesnt agree with me I may have to go
back to America. Hell return in a few days, and we can decide
then.
For a few days I did little but sleep. I was the center of attrac
tion, and everyone in the neighborhood dropped in to see me.
Many different theories to explain the cure were suggested. Juan
put most faith in the witch doctors knife.
All demons have a great fear of bright, shiny objects, especially
sharp knives, he said. The demon heard the witch doctor saying
she was going to slice you up, and was only too glad to leave such
a dangerous abode.
126
I admitted to Juan that I had felt firmly convinced that the old
woman was going to cut the spirit up even before it left my body.
At first, Juans explanation seemed a huge joke, but to avoid offend
ing him I agreed that the spirit might have been frightened out of
me.
Mrs. Salvador suspected that the sopot devil was on very good
terms with the witch doctor, and that it had been sent to live in
my body because of her selfish desire to collect a fee from me. To
the girls, the bitterness of the fluid assumed major importance.
They had the old-fashioned idea that medicine must make one
suffer in order to be effective.
I myself believed that the sweating had had a cleansing effect,
and that the herb concoction had restored the chemical balance
in my body, accomplishing what the doctor had been attempting
to do with his medicine. Shortly after the cure, Juan asked me for
a few pesos to give to Mrs. Salvador.
She has bought many candles to bum at the church, he said.
She could not afford to spend the money, but she had to atone
for the sin of having the witch doctor in her house, and for the
greater sin of recommending this treatment for you.
I gave Juan ten pesos with a feeling that the saints were very
reasonable to charge me so little for calling in other experts to
help them out. The living saints I had known would not have
been so willing to accept the witch doctor as a consultant. When
Juan returned from town he told me, with a distressed look, that
the district health officer was back and that he had talked with
him. He doesnt believe you are well, said Juan. He says you
cant leave town for a week or two, and even then it wont be safe
for you to go to the Lowlands.
I was afraid of that, I said, but I think youd better go on
back to Bataan. Glin will be worried about the rest of the bride
price, and hes liable to sell Olan to someone else if you dont re
turn. How much more do we owe him?
Fifty pesos, said Juan. I paid him another twenty before we
left.
How much have you got saved up? I said.
Forty-five pesos, he said. I havent spent anything since we
left, and its been three and a half months.
By the end of the month Ill owe you sixty pesos, I said, but
12 ?
if you stay that long youre liable to get homesick and therell be
another doctors bill, so Ill pay you now. That will give you sixty
)esos, which will pay the bride price, buy your busfare back, and
eave a little to spare. His eyes filled with tears. I gave him an
other five pesos so he could buy Olan a few presents, and saw him
off on the afternoon bus. Once I had mentioned leaving, he
seemed to waste away by the hour with homesickness, and I feared
he wouldnt,last until he arrived the next morning. He left with
the understanding that my betrothal was canceled, and that if I
ever returned to Bataan, I would serve as godfather to his first
child, which he insisted he would name Kilton, whether it was
a boy or girl.
The wistful eagerness in his face when I mentioned Olan gave
me a pang of guilt for the jealousy I had felt toward him on the
night of the 'ivakaiy and on later occasions. When I thought of her
now, I felt strangely indifferent about seeing her. That week on
the trail, with my feet always turning back as though she were in
possession of them, had furnished a moment of pain to weigh
against each moment of desire I felt for her, until she had, at last,
become impersonal for me again, as she had been that first day,
standing in the sunlight and throbbing with laughter beside the
table.
As I waved good-by to Juan, I was flooded with a feeling of love
and brotherly affection. I was not quite sure if it was Christian love,
or if something deep inside was telling me that the fear in Olan
would always rise up at the moment when she tried to give, so
that she would possess the man she loved with the instinct of a
courtesan and make him always love her to distraction without
fulfillment.
The witch doctor had chosen the full of the moon for the cere
mony. I noticed that all the dogs in the community barked and
howled at the moon. I had been much disgusted by the Filipino
dogs. All of them had skin diseases. As I saw them scratching and
bleeding and squirming, I had been doubly conscious of my own
skin.
The next morning, when Conception brought me fruit from the
market, as was her habit, I asked why the dogs bayed at the moon.
They are afraid of it, sir, she answered.
128
What does the moon do to you? I asked.

It makes me restless and sad, she said. It fills my mind with
daydreams. If its light falls on your face when you are asleep, it
will drive you mad. The dogs are very foolish. They sit and stare
at the moon, and if you do not tie them up, they will run off on
moonlight nights. Our dogs howl and whine when it thunders,
too.
I had often been shocked by the yelping of the dogs in the
Salvador household.
If you know that dogs have fear and other feelings like your
own, I asked Conception, how is it that you can be so cruel to
them?
God punishes us she said. When the dogs are bad, it is our
duty to punish them.
But if they are bad so often, why do you keep them about? I
protested.
They are very necessary, sir, she said. Her grave brown eyes
grew larger. They are watchdogs.
This sounded like the height of folly to me, for the Salvador
family lived almost as simply as the Negritos. A few pots and pans,
a few rolls of bamboo matting, clothing that was always in use, and
trinkets which Mrs. Salvador kept under her pillow, were about
all the property of which the household could boast.
What do you have here that anyone could possibly want to
steal?
If it were not for the watchdogs, the young men would steal
into our beds at night, she answered with conviction. The dogs
help us guard our virtue/*
I had often seen the sleeping compartments of the Salvador
household. Only screens separated the various beds, and they were
placed close together
Could you not cry out if someone tried to steal into your bed?
I asked her.
If a girl did not want love more than she wanted to please her
mother or the priest, she said, why would she marry, and what
good would she be to her husband if she did marry? Mother says
that no woman can resist a man when she falls in love, even if she
wants to. My mother is quite willing to protect us until we have
husbands. Of course, we could cry out if the young men came to
our beds, but we wouldnt.
129
The testing at the school progressed rapidly in the next few days.
At the end of the month, I paid off my bills, but my fortune had
dwindled. The Indonesian mountaineer children I had been testing
at the school interested me. They included representatives from
some of the groups that Hartendorp and Dr. Perez had mentioned,
and had come from the main mountain range of Luzon, on the
eastern part of the island, which was higher than the Zambales
Mountains. These eastern mountains were older than the western
range, according to the geologists, and less precipitous, and they
therefore had more high tablelandswhich had been cleared from
jungle long ago for shifting dry-land agriculture.
The health officer who had unsuccessfully treated me for sopotsopot strongly recommended that I live for awhile in these eastern
highlands, or leave the Philippines for a cooler climate. He had
seen sopot-sopot return to people like myself, who had grown up
in dry mountainous areas; this eastern range, he thought, might
serve my health as well as my research.
The human race had apparently begun the climb from the
ancient, simple, nomadic, hunting-and-gathering type of culture
to modern industrial civilization by domesticating plants and ani
mals for food and settling down on the land. Having caught a
glimpse of the first rung on the ladder of human progress in the
Zambales Mountains, I might now find groups in the eastern range
which had reached other rungs, groups in which the Negrito type
of culture had moved in the direction of modern civilization.
Dr. Beyer had told me that he had found individuals with Ne
grito characteristics scattered through the population of these
eastern mountains, especially across the island from the Zambales
Mountains, where the Negritos had been in contact with the
Ilongots of the eastern range up to the coming of the Americans at
the beginning of the twentieth century. Some Negrito, or partNegrito, hordes still ranged on the eastern slopes of the Palali range
of mountains in the province of Nueva Vizcaya. I could take the
bus to Bayombong and then work down the central mountain chain
to the vicinity of Manila.
Beyer believed that the Negritos had ranged over the whole
island at one time, before they were replaced in the Lowlands by
the agricultural peoples. For centuries, they had been mixing with
the agricultural groups of the highlands. In this vast mountainous
country to the east might be found groups among whom the simple
130
spontaneous ceremonies of the Negritos, originating, as I had seen,

in their dreams, fantasies, and accidents, had evolved further and be
come more permanent. I might find instances where the Negrito
type of ceremony had been adapted to agricultural practices, so
that men believed the spirits of their magical worlds controlled not
only accidents, such as stubbing ones toe on a jungle root, but
also the process of growth itself in the animals and plants they raised
for food.
At the school there were two or three part-Ilongot children,
whose parents had migrated to Abra from the vicinity of Bayombong. The Indonesian Ilongot tribe was believed to have mixed
more with the Negritos than any other group. Its members were
also thought to be related to the Ainus of northern Japan and the
Todas of India, because they had certain Caucasian features of bone
structure, and more abundant face and body hair than neighboring
groups. Both the Ainus and the Todas were referred to as protoEuropean and were believed to have migrated from the vicinity
of Europe or the Caucasus Mountains in very ancient times, the
Todas taking a southern and the Ainus a northern route.
The Ilongots had not yet settled on the land as permanently as
most agriculturalists, but they did practice shifting dry-land farm
ing, and they were just beginning, on the border of their territory,
to domesticate pigs and fowl to be used for food. They had never
been conquered by the Spaniards, and were not yet a part of the
Filipino political state, since the American administration had done
little more than confine them to their own territory and insist that
they take no heads from the Lowlanders. Much of their territory
was as yet unexplored.
I had approached Gabriel Juarez, a senior-high-school pupil
who was one of the part-Ilongot emigrants from Nueva Vizcaya.
As a means of improving his English, he was willing to go along
with me to work with the Ilongots for the same fee I had been pay
ing Juan.
I decided to go back to Manila by way of Bayombong and the
central mountain range. Then I could study what had been written
about the Bontocs and the Ifugao before I went into their territory
to complete the program Perez and Hartendorp had recommended.
They had told me that almost nothing had been written about the
Ilongots. By hiking south along this chain of mountains, which
runs the length of Luzon, and testing the groups I encountered
I 3I
along the way, I should be able to get back to Manila in three to

six months.
The Salvadors arranged a party for me on the afternoon of my
departure. All the neighbors came in their picturesque Spanishstyle dresses. We drank tea and ate sweet cakes. Some of the peo
ple had tears in their eyes when I left, and I too felt like crying.
When you are so poor and weak that you must accept peoples
help at every turn, friendships grow rapidly and very deep.
The Salvadors knew Jesus, the young man who drove the bus,
and persuaded him to call for me at the party on his way out of
town. He was a handsome lad of Spanish extraction, who thought
of his bus as a mustang. The bus was overcrowded with people, to
say nothing of the goats, pigs, dogs, and chickens which lay
tethered in the aisles or hung from the roof. But Jesus had saved
places for us beside him on the front seat.
We departed with a flourish, in the midst of an uproar. The
motor snorted, the passengers shouted, and the livestock added to
the din. A violent spasm of the engine sent the bus lurching
dangerously over the ruts in the road. I caught a final broken
glimpse of Conscientious, Conception, and Candid waving hand
kerchiefs from the roadside. I noticed that Jesus also was watching
them instead of the road. Miraculously, we missed a tree and
skirted a ditch.
TWELVE
The Head-Hunters
l H E journey to Bayombong was

anything but dull. To many of the people we passed, an auto
mobile was still a miracle. Some of the passengers had never been
in a bus before, and they sat tense and excited. Only the chickens
and dogs cried out against the atrocious driving. How could a
mere machine stand such a beating and escape overturning around
the murderous curves on the narrow roads?
As the bus ground out the miles to Bayombong, Gabriel told
me about himself. He was a shy lad and so far had not spoken more
than two words to me except in answer to my direct questions.
Now he was beginning to thaw a little. I suspected that he reacted
to the driving of Jesus like a man who, falling from a height, sees
his past life parade in front of him.
Some years earlier, the Bureau of Education had attempted to
maintain a school on the northern border of the Ilongot territory,
in the vicinity of Bayombong. Some of the Ilongot children had
been persuaded to attend it. The experiment had never worked
satisfactorily, for the students periodically became bored with the
132
THE HEAD-HUNTERS
133
discipline of school life and burned the schoolhouse and all the
government equipment. The Bureau of Education finally aban
doned the project. Before this happened, however, Gabriels
mother had fallen in love with the schoolmaster and married him,
thus becoming one of the few Ilongot girls ever to leave her ter
ritory and become Christianized.
Gabriel told me that although his mother had not visited her
fathers people since her marriage, she had taught him the Ilongot
dialect and many of her native songs, and had interested him in
the myths and customs of her people. The Lowland students knew
that his mother was from Ilongot territory and treated him with
reserve.
Until the American conquest of the mountain territory at the
time of the Spanish-American War, the Ilongots had waged con
stant war with the Lowlanders, and even since that war they had
taken many Lowland heads. The Christian children could not for
get this, and Gabriel could not feel at home among them. He
seemed glad of the opportunity to visit his mothers people, but
as we approached our destination, he grew steadily more tense. The
stories he had heard from his mother were not at all reassuring. Dur
ing the past few years the Ilongots had not taken any heads from
the Ifugao or from the Lowland communities in which he had
lived, but they had only discontinued this practice after repeated
and severe discipline by the United States Army, and the threat
of annihilation if they did not reform.
We left the bus at Bayombong, and bargained for a ride in an
automobile to the village of Caliat, a few miles to the south, where
we stocked up with silk threads of various colors and fine copper
wire, which Gabriel said we could use for currency. These, with
white horsehair which Gabriel had been collecting ever since he
had first thought of coming with me, would make us rich among
the Ilongots. Then we set off on foot up a tributary of the Magat
River, coming down from the direction of Mount Palali.
As we trudged up the trail, Gabriel often paused to inspect our
supply of silk thread, copper wire, and horsehair. The prospect of
being a rich man among the Ilongots for awhile was having a no
ticeable effect upon him. All his life his family had been poor, and
this sack of supplies, he said, was equivalent to a large bank account
in the Lowlands. The romantic picture of what his wealth would
buy was outweighing the unknown dangers in the lush green
1 3 4
mountains ahead. Each time we stopped, he opened the sack and

admired the gleaming mass within.
The excitement in his eyes was contagious, as we climbed the
steep canyon leading to the south. I thought how the world of my
mothers people would have looked to me at seventeen. On each of
those green ridges that became purple in the distance were the
houses of the Ilongots. In each house was a door which would open
at our command and yield up some mysterious treasure.
We spent the night at a farmhouse which was also a trading post.
It was run by Manolo de Leon, an old trader who had carried on
an uncertain business with the Ilongots for many years, dealing
mostly in rattan, for which he bartered colored thread, copper
wire, calico, knives, and tobacco. He had a strongly built wooden
house surrounded by a wooden fence reinforced with barbed wire.
The place was overrun with dogs, which looked like a cross be
tween bull terriers and the native variety. They barked at us
savagely even before we reached the compound. Some were so
vicious they had to be chained.
Inside the compound, behind his house, were a half-dozen native
houses of thatch and some shacks inhabited by Filipino families
who worked for him as servants. Gabriel said that the costumes of
the natives showed they were Kalingas from the province of Isa
bela. The houses were well built. Two of them had roofs of large
bamboo poles which had been split in half and ingeniously laid over
one another like tiles. I was told this construction was characteris
tic of Kalingan houses. In one corner of the compound, toward
the back, a few old spears were stuck into the ground, supporting
baskets containing flowers, bamboo joints full of basi, the native
drink made of fermented sugar-cane juice, and little bowls of rice
and scraps of meatofferings to the ancestor spirits. Old loin
cloths and bits of skirts and blankets hung from the fence and were
draped over the spear ends. Gabriel told me that the people of the
compound made spirits they called anitos here. This choice of
a special place for performing rituals was a step up toward the fixed
ceremony and the temples of modem man. The Negritos had no
such places.
Inside, the storeroom looked like a small arsenal, since it con
tained a rifle and a number of sawed-off shotguns. The old trader
did not trust the Ilongots; he depended for his safety on his dogs,
his servants, and his guns.
THE HEAD-HUNTERS
135
Outside the compound, inhabiting leaf shacks not unlike those

built by the Negritos when they are on the march, were a number
of Ilongots who were there for trading. Rattan and baskets were
piled up around the palm-leaf shelters, and dogs were tethered to
the uprights on rattan leashes. The Ilongots knew that their dogs
were no match for Manolos terriers.
There were fourteen Ilongots at the camp, who, Manolo said,
would probably stay around for a day or two, carrying on their
trading in a leisurely fashion. Before these left, more would prob
ably drift in. The Ilongots had completed harvesting their dry
land rice, and usually at this time traveled about from rancho to
rancho to do their trading.
I told Manolo I would like to test thirty-five to fifty of them.
He thought that many would certainly show up in the course of
two or three weeks, and agreed to let us unroll our beds in his
storeroom and to sell us food. The Ilongots, he said, were curious
about everything, and we should have no trouble getting them to
play our test games. His opinion proved correct. The next morning
his servants built us a bowery lean-to against the housea bamboo
frame laced with branchesand a bamboo table and some chairs.
I had had an opportunity to train Gabriel in the testing weeks ago,
while working with the students in Bangued. The testing program
was commenced.
The Ilongots were a colorful people. Their loincloths differed
from those of the Negritos in that the ends did not hang down in
front and behind. All of them carried spears ornamented with spiral
bands of metal and wound with fiber or horsehair interspersed with
bright colored threads. They had long, narrow shields of light
wood which might stop arrows or fend off enemy spears.
In their houses, they kept bows and a variety of arrows. The
heads of some of the arrows were detachable, tied to the shaft with
strong cords designed to catch in the brush and thus stop an ani
mal attempting to flee after being hit.
They wore elaborate arm bands of woven copper wire, horse
hair, dyed rattan, and thread. Geometric designs were tattooed on
their chests and their hair was long, confined in hair nets of coarse,
woven fiber string. Just above their loincloths each had a girdle of
small, well-matched cowrie shells. Some girdles consisted of a
single strand of shells, others of a greater number, and some of the
older men displayed broad bands or ropes of them. Three of the
136
men also wore a band of shells which attached to the girdle at

the right hip, went up over the left shoulder, and attached again
at the right hip in the back. These cowrie shells were passed from
father to son, and the number of shells denoted the wealth of the
wearer. Apparently the shells had been accumulated, through
centuries of trading, from the Ilongots to the east and the Dumagates, a seafaring tribe inhabiting the east coast. The Dumagates
were believed to have come to the Philippines long ago from
Melanesia and to be Papuan in origin.
There was an astonishing variety of physical types among the
Ilongots. Some had straight, blue-black hair; some, wavy hair
which glinted red in the sun; some, kinky hair and distinctly
Negrito or Papuan features. Some were brown with a saffron tint,
and yellow where the skin was protected by the girdle. Others
ranged from chocolate brown to almost black. They were taller
than the Negritos, varying in height from four and a half to five
and a half feet, and so slender that they looked even taller. Slender
as they were, they had well-developed muscles, especially the
thighs and buttocks. At least half of them had some show of beard.
Two were fairly heavy, and most of them had a European rather
than an Oriental look about the upper eyelid. All of them were
gay, playful, and friendly. I found it difficult to think of them as
treacherous head-hunters. The whole group obligingly stayed on
to tell us of their dreams and to take our tests.
The Goodenough Draw-A-Man Test could be scored only up
to the fourteen-year level, and all the Ilongots made drawings
which exceeded the fourteen-year norm and compared well with
the drawings made by normal American adults which I had ob
tained in Hawaii. I also noticed some other trends in the drawings
of the Ilongots, which were confirmed by drawings I collected
later. Nearly all of the subjects drew their men in action, rather
than standing still. And they drew unusually large feet in propor
tion to the rest of the body.
Miss Goodenough had noticed that there was a sex difference
in the test results obtained in Americathat the girls tended to
draw larger eyes and smaller feet than the boys. The Uongot males
drew even larger feet and smaller eyes than the males I had tested
in Hawaii. This was partly because the Ilongot drawings were
more realistic. Perhaps they also drew the feet larger and better
because feet to them were more important, since they were ac
THE HEAD-HUNTERS
1 37
customed to going barefoot. I found the same trend in the other

barefoot mountain groups I tested later. These larger, better-drawn
feet might also, I concluded, indicate a high degree of masculinity,
individuality, and virility among these people. Everything about
them bespoke an independent, democratic attitude and a high re
gard for their own institutions and culture.
On the Porteus Maze they did not do quite so well, but like the
Negritos they had had no experience whatever with pencil and
paper, and they usually wasted a blank or two getting used to the
fact that the pencil rat could not cross over lines which would
cause a real rat no difficulty.
On the Metal Maze the Ilongots did as well as the adults and the
high-school students I had tested in Hawaii. The Sympathy Test
did not differentiate them at all from the Hawaiian subjects or
from the Negritos. On the Emotional Response Test their
memories of the various types of incidents covered a much greater
part of their past lives than did the memories of the Negritos.
Spirits, whom they called anitos, played a greater part in the fear
ful incidents they remembered, and in their dreams, than spirits
did among the Negritos.
Their answers to the Progressive Fantasy Test showed a much
greater fear of attack from spirits and from other men than the
Negritos displayed. None of them mentioned a fear of being at
tacked by a high god like the Negritos Tolandian, but all of them
were living, as far as I could see, in constant fear of losing their
heads, in fear of blood feuds, and in fear of spirits. Nearly all con
sidered the ceremonial feasts the best things that had happened to
them. Feasts were also often mentioned as the best thing that
could happen, along with gaining favor with the anitos, wealth,
more wives, more copper wire, more cowrie shells, and more fame
throughout the Ilongot territory as rich men and head-hunters.
All of the older men answered that the best thing that could
happen would be the withdrawal of the United States Govern
ment, which had made it so difficult for them to take the heads of
the Lowlanders that they had found it necessary to take more and
more heads from other Ilongot groups. Apparently taking heads
from their Ilongot neighbors resulted in retaliation worse than they
had ever experienced from the Lowlands, and in endless blood
feuds. It never occurred to any of them that they might stop tak
ing heads altogether, since they seemed to believe that the spirits
138
would not yield up life-giving food to man unless man gave

human lives in return to the anitos. After examining the test results
I could not agree with Manolo, or with the school authorities to
whom I had talked in Bayombong, that the Ilongots were deficient
in native intelligence.
We also tested some of Manolos Kalingan retainers. They had
seen photographs, maps, and calendars around Manolos house, and
apparently even this little experience with two-dimensional draw
ings helped them in doing the Porteus Maze, as they scored a little
better than the Ilongots. On all the other tests they did about the
same as the Ilongots.
From both the Kalingas and the Ilongots I inquired in vain for
any evidence of the shamanistic healing trance which we had ob
served among the Negritos. When I asked them for the worst
things that had happened to them, and attempted to get them into
the trance state, they reported dream after dream of encounters
with the anitos, which indicated that they had no tradition of go
ing back to infancy and the spirit cave to find the origin of their
headaches and bellyaches, as the Negritos did.
They tended to have more terror dreams than the other adoles
cents and adults I had tested. Instead of the usual forty to sixty per
cent of bad dreams, about seventy per cent of the Ilongot dreams
were bad. In their dreams there were fewer dogs, wild pigs, cats,
snakes, and other animals, and more humans and humanlike anitos
than I had found in the dreams of the Negrito and the Hawaiian
subjects.
Most of the dreams were of punishment by the ancestor spirits
and of quarrels and fights, which they associated with attacking or
being attacked for heads. Two of the Ilongot dreams were directly
concerned with head-taking. In one, a young man asked a beauti
ful girl he met in his dream to marry him, but she refused, saying
that since he had not taken a head, he was not a man. An older
man dreamed that the anito of his victim stepped out of the body
as the dreamer hacked off his head, and promised to be the
dreamers servant if he would leave the head by the body and not
carry it off to his rancho and have a ceremony over it, as the
Igorots did.
I noticed no other trends in the Ilongot dreams which dif
ferentiated them from the dreams of adolescent Hawaiian subjects,
THE HEAD-HUNTERS
I 39
and found no dreams similar to those of the shamans and the aspir
ing shamans among the Negritos.
I also inquired of the Kalingas about their methods of treating
illness. One old woman in the group specialized in healing, but she
was a priestess rather than a shamaness. As far as I could learn, she
neither went into trance herself nor put her patients into trance in
the healing ceremony. She thought she had been called to the
priesthood by Kabunyan, the high god. There were lesser gods,
who personified the thunder, the lightning, the clouds, the rainbow,
the sun, and the moon. The Kalingas spoke of Damanig, a demon
who possessed the moon and made her eat up her husband, the sun.
But none of these gods seemed important to the priestess. She said
she prayed only to the high god, asking him to protect and save
her patients from the lesser gods and from various spirits, espe
cially the hunting spirits and the spirits who lived in big rocks, hot
springs, and volcanoes.
The main cause of illness, however, which the priestess countered
by her prayers and by sacrifices, was the ancestor spirits. These
ancestor spirits also had to be propitiated at rice-planting time.
After planting the rice and praying to the ancestor spirits and the
high god at the planting ceremony, the head of the family and his
wife would take a sacrificial plate of rice, pork, and bananas to
their terraces.
An old man described these prayers to us. They were addressed
to the ancestors who had built the terraces in the first place and had
been buried there when they died. These ancestors were told: You
who built and improved these rice paddies, do not linger on and eat
the crops we plant. Please take this food we have prepared for you
and depart, to come no more. Have pity on us who inherited your
land. Do not harvest any of our crop. We have killed a pig to end
your residence here. Do not come back again. Then the prayer
was addressed to the high god: High god, Kabunyan-un Kadaklan, thou art the greatest. Drive these spirits away, so this soil will
furnish us a good crop. Keep them away, always, thou who art
the greatest and the most supreme above all others.
The old man then pantomimed the placing of the rice, meat,
and bananas on the wall of the rice terraces, and again addressed his
prayers to the ancestors: Here, this is the end of you, he said. Eat
and go away.
I was very interested to learn that the old priestess had received
140
her calling to the profession of healer in a series of dreams which

had made her ill. She had lost her appetite and grown thin, and at
last she had decided that her soul was married to an anito and that
she could only survive by becoming a priestess (manga-alising).
Since she had become a healer at the age of thirty-five she had not
eaten eel, dog, and certain kinds of fish and beefall taboo to a
priestess. If eating any of these foods made a woman ill, she would
be advised to become a priestess.
The high god, Kabunyan, she told us, had ordained her in a
dream, and she had had no special training for the priesthood. Since
all the children in the group, however, witnessed the healing activi
ties of the priestess from babyhood on, it was obvious that they
would need no special training to perform the same rites. Her
healing methods seemed definitely inferior to those of the Negritos,
since they consisted only of making sacrifices to the ancestor spirits,
asking them to go away and stop bothering her patients, bribing
them with sacrifices, and asking Kabunyan to keep them away,
after assuring him that he was all-powerful and could, therefore,
very easily protect her patients if he wished to do so.
This seemed like a method of healing by suppression and splitting
up, rather than by insight, self-acceptance, and integration. With
this type of healing, the patient had to remain dependent on. author
ity to keep the offending parts of the personality suppressed or
split off, since the offending parts or spirits were not attacked di
rectly in the trance state and made to change their ways and work
for the patient, as they were amongrhe Negritos.
Perhaps the series of dreams which had brought the woman into
the priesthood depicted a reorganization which was going on in her
personality at that time. She did not, however, inquire about the
dreams of her patients and stimulate a similar reorganization in
them. She seemed content to function always as the emotional
mother of her subjects.
Insofar as we could learn, there were no old-woman specialists
among the Ilongots to correspond to the priestess-healer of the
Kalingas.
Among both the Kalingas and the Ilongots the men were chiefly
interested in the ceremonies clustering about head-taking and paid
little attention to the art of healing. They did not look further and
further into themselves for the cause of illness, as the Negritos did,
THE HEAD-HUNTERS
141
but tried to propitiate a wider and wider circle of spirits through

the shedding of blood and the taking of heads.
Although the llongots were suspicious of my medicines, as they
were of anything foreign to them, one old man who said that he had
a headache took an aspirin I gave him and agreed to let me try to
put him into a trance. I see a man, he said, when his eyes went
shut. He looks like an Ilongot, but he is bright red in color. He
is an anito, and says he is squeezing my head because we have not
taken a head to avenge the last death of one of our number, which
was caused by a neighboring group. The anito said he would keep
squeezing the subjects head until the blood feud was fulfilled.
When I asked the old man to go back to earlier and earlier occasions
when the pain spirit had attacked him, he told of previous times
when this red anito had squeezed his head because the blood feud
had not been satisfied, and of other occasions when a white, moon
like anito had attacked him because there had been no heads taken
to put the fertility back into the land at harvest time.
I urged him repeatedly to go to earlier and earlier times, and
he did get back to experiences of childhood where he had broken
taboos. But the red or shining white anitos which he kept seeing
frightened him, so that at last he announced that he would go no
further, and that he wanted to come out of the trance and see no
more anitos. It was not a successful venture, for in spite of the
aspirin, when he opened his eyes he said his headache had grown
worse.
Perhaps when I got deeper into the territory I would find sub
jects who were less frightened and whose minds were not so set
by tradition. But already I had learned a great deal about the emo
tional make-up of the Uongots. They were less afraid of the spirits
of rocks, trees, streams, and mountains than the Negritos, who had
a mild fear of, or respect for, the individuality, the living force, in
everything about them, but fear had not been eliminated from the
mind of the Ilongot. It had been transferred to, or concentrated in,
the images of the anitos. When these aggressive anito images at
tacked them in their dreams and visions, the old men did not call
them up to consciousness in the agreement trance and persuade
them to assist the patient to become a healer. Instead, they looked
for a scapegoat.
The Ilongots did not animate the images of the outside world
I42
with their own motives, desires, and emotions, to the same extent
that the Negritos did. They were less animistic. But as they
gathered in their fears and hopes from the images of outside things
in general, they concentrated these fears and hopes into a class of
images which were built up by education through words and cere
monies, and they were learning to think in terms of these man-made
images. Certainly this was a step toward abstract thinking. Intel
lectually it was a step in the right directiontoward thought
which was in some ways more efficient. Their memories, for in
stance, were far superior to those of the Negritos.
Emotionally, however, it was a misstep. It helped to relieve the
feelings of aggression of the inner man, but it turned the man and
his group against others. This was interesting, but not especially
reassuring. The men were so gentle, friendly, and soft-spoken in
their treatment of each other, and so charming and co-operative in
taking the tests, that I felt perfectly at ease about traveling into
their territory. But this deeper side of their nature, which the
test revealed, did seem to fit in with the reputation they had for
taking the lives of human beings who were not in their lineage
groups.
The Kalingas had carried the blood sacrifice further than the
Ilongots, but they said the anitos loved the blood of pigs and
chickens and would accept it as a sacrifice, as well as the blood of
human beings. Now that head-hunting was no longer allowed
among the Kalingas, some of the men were performing healing
ceremonies.
Both male and female Kalingas wore their hair long, but the men
cut it off in front, leaving a bang across the forehead. Gabriel told
me that the Kalingas had been head-hunters, feared as much by the
Lowlanders as the Ilongots, but they had not resisted education
and Christianity to the same extent. Apparently Manolo had
chosen them as servants because they were even more efficient as
warriors than the Ilongots, and more reckless. The Kalingan men
had some scant tattooing on the arms and chest, and most of the
women had a throat tattoo. They said the tattooing had no special
significance, but they thought it was decorative and brought good
luck. They looked more Oriental than the Ilongots, with high
cheekbones, a broad upper face, and longish eyes. In the main they
were a little taller and a little heavier. They carried head axes, which
they always kept handy and used for everything but picking their
THE HEAD-HUNTERS
143
teeth. They held on to them even when they were not working,
as a warning to the Ilongots, who did not have head axes.
By the end of three weeks we had tested thirty-five subjects.
One of the Ilongot latecomers, Ijah, who had an especially heavy
girdle of cowrie shells, denoting rank, and who lived in a clearing
only two days march from the trading post, agreed to take us
back with him so we could test the women and children at his house
and commence our journey southward.
Gabriel was nervous about our departure. Although the Ilongots
had not invaded the Lowlands for heads since their last trouncing
by the United States Army some five years before, who was to
protect the Lowland heads that ventured up to them? To make
matters worse, Manolo arranged a feast for our departure and per
suaded his Kalingan servants to stage a mock head-hunt for us. I
like to have one every now and then anyway, he said, just to
make the Ilongots remember that my own men can still take heads,
and would be glad to do so if the Ilongots gave them an excuse.
Three of his older men had taken heads themselves. He asked
Pangat Guhlu, the most famous of these, to re-enact his last success
ful expedition. They killed a pig for the feast, and the fifteen-odd
adults and adolescent boys came rushing around the house in their
full war regalia, carrying the pigs head in the conical bamboo head
basket. Pangat Guhlu explained that there had been forty mem
bers in his last expedition, and he seemed dissatisfied that he had
only fifteen actors to depict it with, but said he would do the best
he could.
As soon as the head had been taken, Pangat Guhlu started home
with it, the other members of the party keeping up a rear-guard
action. As he re-enacted his return to the village, all of them
dipped small pieces of bark cloth in the blood and ran off to hang
them above the doors of their houses to insure good luck and good
health, and to protect themselves from the vengeance of the slain
mans friends and ancestors. Smelling his blood there, the anitos
would think it was a house of their kin, rather than of an enemy.
While they were gone, Pangat Guhlu cut off the lower jaw, and
then hewed off the skull of the head with his head axe and cut it
into fourteen pieces, giving each member of the expedition a piece
as he returned. Using the prong of the head axe, he scrambled up
the brain; he poured basi into the skull, drinking of the mixture
first himself, then adding more basi to it and passing it to the others
I44
as they arrived, the pieces of skull serving as loving cups. After all
had drunk, four young men brought out gansas, gongs which they
played with their hands. Each gansa was attached by a rattan thong
to a human lower jaw, which served as handle. The men squatted
on their haunches as they played, forming part of the wide circle
of spectators gathering around the fire.
When the circle was formed, Pangat Guhlu, with a young man
who posed as the victim, re-enacted the taking of the head, telling
about every step in a piercing falsetto voice. His words were stac
cato and full of rage. They seemed sharper than his gleaming head
axe. He had amazing agility for an old man. First there had been a
spear fight, and the two parried each others spears in a way which
seemed to endanger both the duelers and the onlookers. At last
the opponent was wounded in the thigh through the space between
the prongs at the bottom of his shield, and fell, screaming for help.
The old man was upon him in a moment, pressing down his arms
with a shield. The axe descended. I fully expected the head to roll
away from the body. The sharp, piercing cry with which the old
man commenced each phrase of his account had an hypnotic effect.
Manolo told me it was the actual war cry of the Kalingas and would
paralyze an opponent if he was at all affected with lata\ a type of
hysteria which is common in the Malay-speaking countries.
Laughingly he told us that he had had a school teacher who went
into trance whenever one of the students clapped his hands sharply
or gave a sudden shout. The teacher, he said, would then imitate
anything that happened, even to taking off her clothes. Of course,
the head-hunters prey who was a thrust behind his adversary
would not have much time left for imitating. There was so much
pent-up emotion in the voice and action of the old man that the
whole thing became horribly realistic. There was a slight trickle of
blood from the victims thigh, where the victors spear had made
contact. Manolo said the old man would have to pay a fine to
him to avoid a blood feud. Among the Kalingans even murder
could be paid for, when it occurred between the lineage groups
in a friendly territory. They had a system of fines on which the
old men who formed a council for the territory in question agreed.
The councilors (pangats) could call upon all the members of their
various lineages to reinforce their decisions. They were usually
chosen as pangats because they were feared and respected for the
number of heads they had taken. Once having been chosen, they
THE HEAD-HUNTERS
145
worked tirelessly to persuade the others to settle their difficulties

by paying fines and inflicting minor wounds, rather than by taking
heads.
Gabriel was ghastly pale. When the first encounter had been
completely portrayed, Pangat Guhlu pulled a handkerchief-size
piece of bark cloth from his girdle and handed it to one of the other
old men who had taken heads, and another battle was enacted. This
time, as he held his victim pinned beneath his shield, he called a
younger man to wield the head axe.
Manolo explained that it was the custom to allow the younger
men, who had not taken heads, this honor of enacting the actual
head-taking, as it gave them prestige which the old men no longer
needed. Then the bark cloth was passed to the third man, and the
scene went on again pretty much as before, except that each per
formance became more lively and appeared more reckless than the
previous one.
Gabriel became more disturbed with each performance and con
cealed his nervousness with difficulty.
After this phase of the program, there was a free-for-all argu
ment in which everyone had a go at boasting about his bravery, his
skills, his wealth, and his lineage. One of the young men boasted so
often and so loudly that his uncle had seven wives, that I told
Manolo to advise him that Brigham Young, headman of my group,
had twenty-three. There was sheer disbelief on all the faces. The
argument began to get out of bounds, and Manolo asked Pangat
Guhlu to have the old women enact the ceremony which they had
performed once a year in the head-hunting days to determine if
it was necessary for the men to take heads in the coming year. The
argument, he said, had reached a phase where the young men were
insulting each other rather than boasting, and were berating the
old men for their cowardice in allowing the institution of head
hunting to die off before they had had an opportunity to prove
themselves. Such arguments are always highly dangerous with these
people.
To commence the ceremony, one old woman stood up a halfdozen coconuts in as many conical head baskets, to represent all
the imaginary heads which had been taken in the previous year.
She stuck a spear into the ground to mark off a zone separating the
women from the heads. They danced and sang for awhile, and at
last the leader announced, much to the disgust of the young men,.
F*
146
that no more heads need be taken to insure the harvest for the next
year. Apparently the old woman found out through the ceremonywhether or not the rice could withstand the ravages of a great
mythical bird which had the power to eat it when it was in the
milk stage. The women were experts on this bird because it also
had the power to strangle babies or eat their spirits while they were
in the womb.
The taking of heads was, therefore, related to both the fertility
of the soil and the fertility of women. I had seen two bamboo poles,
sharpened on the end and hardened with fire, sticking up from the
rooftop of one of the houses. The woman who lived inside was
pregnant. The long poles, which followed the slant of the roof and
extended upward beyond the gable into space, would transfix the
great bird if it fluttered too close. This was a necessary precaution
since no heads had been taken recently.
I was tired. After eating the lavish dinner which Manolo pro
vided for all I was unable to stay awake. But Gabriel felt like talk
ing. Through the open door of the storeroom I could see Gabriel
and iManolo in the yellow halo of a smoky kerosene lamp as I went
to sleep.
Once I opened my eyes to see Gabriel explaining the labyrinths
on the Porteus Maze blanks. Another time he was translating the
dreams which we had collected. Later I heard his nervous treble
laugh. The old man was showing him rocks, which I took to be
samples of ore collected in the vicinity. Each time I saw him, Ga
briel looked more excited.
At breakfast I was alarmed by the shrillness of his voice and the
brightness of his eyes. Manolo was suspicious of the Ilongots and
had filled Gabriels mind with fearsome tales. What was worse, he
was even more suspicious of me. No white man had ever come
into these mountains except to seek gold. Gabriels comments con
vinced me that the trader thought I was deceiving them about the
purpose of my mission. He believed I had secret information about
the location of gold deposits, which I had perhaps obtained through
my contact with familiar spirits. He had convinced Gabriel that
we would certainly lose our heads the instant we attempted to steal
the Ilongot gold, and that, at best, we were in constant danger. I
half suspected that he was exaggerating the danger ahead because
he wished to sell us squirt guns, which looked like automatic pistols.
THE HEAD-HUNTERS
147
In Manila they sold for a peso, but Manolo asked two and a half
pesos for them, and insisted that we should also buy a bottle of
ammonia water to take along as ammunition for the guns. The
Ilongots would think they were real firearms, and would not at
tack us while we were awake. Even if they attempted to attack us
with their broad-bladed head knives, Manolo said, ammonia water
squirted into the eyes would be more effective than bullets.
The squirt guns also offered protection from Ilongot dogs,
which Manolo said were dangerous. But I bought the squirt pistols
without enthusiasm since I knew they would be little help against
ambush, spears, or the arrows of the Ilongots, if one was trying to
escape through the jungle. The sales talk and the other things
Manolo had said had unnerved Gabriel; he was close to the break
ing point.
After breakfast Manolo gave Ijah, our prospective host, a talking-to. He sounded more like a Dutch uncle than a trader. Ga
briel told me that he was explaining that Ijahs rancho would be
wiped out by the United States Army if any harm came to us.
Manolo would tell the constabulary exactly where we had gone
and some of the police officers would soon be visiting us. Ijah
seemed surprised and shocked that xManolo could have misgivings
about his hospitality, and assured him that he would do everything
in his power to make us comfortable and safe. But as Manolo said
good-by to us with the customary, God be with you, he was
also muttering something about being sure that we were with the
devil. I could see that his fiery lecture had still further aroused Ga
briels misgivings.
THIRTEEN
Hymns and Head Dances
A
JL
V S we left the road for the

footpath leading* to Ijahs rancho, Gabriels steps dragged. It was
difficult to explain to him why I wanted to collect the dreams of
the Ilongots, why I wanted to give them mental tests and observe
their ceremonies, and why the dreams of Lowlanders would not
do as well. Manolo had raised some logical questions. Why was
I more interested in the Ilongots magical ceremonies than in their
gold?
Each time we stopped to rest I attempted in vain to allay Ga
briels fears and put the gay smile back into his eyes. I expected
him to turn back, but he could not do this without losing face. By
evening I despaired of comforting him and decided that his fears
would only be overcome when he found from actual experience
that they were groundless.
That night we camped in a beautiful little grove of trees, where
two streams came together in a rocky canyon. The climb from the
valley had been delightful, and it was pleasant to be away from the
Lowland heat.
Since noon I had left Gabriel alone with his thoughts, and we
148
HYMNS AND HEAD DANCES
I49
had scarcely exchanged a word. We made a tiny fire to boil our

rice, and extinguished it before darkness fell. Ijah explained that
we must not keep the fire burning at night, since there might be
expeditions about in search of heads. Gabriel suggested that we
each sit up half the night on guard, and I agreed to take the first
half, but I could see that even after our hard days hike he had
got no sleep. When it was his turn to watch, I offered to continue
instead, but he said he couldnt sleep anyway and insisted on taking
over.
Ijah and the five younger men who were with him were sleeping
soundly. Apparently they depended on the dogs to protect them
from surprise attacks. I felt Gabriels insistence on the watch was
stupid, but I could not tell him so without offending him.
When I awoke the next morning, Gabriel looked hollow-eyed
and still more tense. I fully expected him to refuse to go farther,
but he did not suggest turning back. Again we trudged on in si
lence, but I was worried about him. He had the same brooding look
in his eyes that I had seen at Bangued in the eyes of a lad who had
run amuck and stabbed his school teacher.
Gabriel had given me his absolute confidence during the first few
days of the journey. Now a suspicion that I had deceived him about
the purpose of my mission was gnawing at him. I tried to talk to
him, but he answered in monosyllables. If the Ilongots were like
the Negritos, Gabriels suspicion of me would be obvious to them,
and his fear of them would be interpreted as unfriendliness. Cer
tainly Ijah will be afraid to attack us, I said, as we paused for
breath. Manolo told him that his group would be wiped out if
he harmed us, and Ijah knows that his place could easily be found
by the police.
If theyve cultivated all the land in the vicinity of their houses,
theyll be ready to move anyway, said Gabriel. Then they could
take our heads and move off where the constabulary could not find
them; and if we leave their group, Ijah will, as like as not, steer us
to an enemy village which he wants wiped out anyway.
At last I asked Gabriel if he wished to turn back, but he could
not admit that he did.
The sun was almost straight above us when we came in sight
of the first Ilongot house. Ijah shouted and waved his arms. It was
as though he had poked a stick into an ant bed. Barking dogs and
shouting people poured out of the door and down the little cause-
150
way which led from the elevated entrance of the house to the steep
mountainside on which it was built.
The house was a large, squarish, well-built structure, supported
by the stumps of trees. The upper side was about six feet above the
ground, but because of the slope of the mountain, the stumps on
the lower side were some twenty feet high. The roof was thatched,
and on all four sides it went up evenly from the eaves, without a
gable, to within ten feet of the top. From that point on, two facing
sides were left open for ventilation, while the other two continued
to a peak, which formed a short gable extending out on each end
to protect the open space. At each end of the ridge pole of the short
gable, above the open space, a carved stick swept upward as though
the ridge pole were continued out and up. From a distance the two
carved sticks looked like the horns of a wild buffalo.
The various families which the house sheltered lived on a low
platform extending about fifteen feet from the outside walls of the
house. Cross walls divided the platform into stall-like compart
ments. A clay hearth in front of each compartment served the
family within. In the center of the house was a large, square, open
floor.
Our belongings were moved into a vacant stall reserved as a rule
for visiting suitors. Gabriel immediately hauled out the horsehair
and gave a generous portion to Ijah, asking him to distribute it ac
cording to custom. The gift was promptly returned in sugar cane
and other foods. One look at the group made it obvious why horse
hair was so treasured among them. It served as a part of the braided
and woven designs on the handles of all their spears, knives, and
other implements, on their betel boxes and baskets, and on the arm
bands and earrings, leg bands and girdles of the women. The white
color was thought to have a magical influence on the anitos.
The women and children of the household had no reticence
about taking our tests and drawing pictures, and like the men we
had tested at Manolos, they came up to the American norms on
all the tests but the Porteus Maze. They were equally willing to tell
their dreams, and recalled them in abundance.
I had never seen a more charming and friendly people. The
women and children had uncut hair like the men, but the women
and the preadolescent boys did not wear hair nets.
The women and girls were no less spontaneous and self-possessed
than the men. I concluded that they must have a splendid culture,
151
so far as their social relationships with one another inside the group
were concerned. I warmed toward them immediately, and felt very
much at home.
As the afternoon progressed, however, their attitude toward
Gabriel alarmed me. He was afraid of them and they knew it. Their
gestures expressed contempt. I could see that Gabriels fear was
turning to hatred. He remarked to me at dinner that the Lowlanders were right in calling the Ilongots ignorant savages. I could
see that he was contrasting his experience and accomplishments
with theirs, and I tried to convince him of the danger of adopting
a superior attitude. We must make friends with them, I urged.
We must amuse them with stories of the world that you know and
they dont. After all, they did not ask us to visit them.
After dinner I instructed Gabriel to ask the Ilongots about their
dances. Tell them we will sing songs and show them dances from
other places, I said, and that we would like to see their dances.
We would also like to know about their magical ceremonies and
medical practices.
Dancing was the chief pastime of the Ilongots. They responded
to our request at once, hauling out drums and gongs, and primitive
instruments which resembled the xylophone. Each of these had
been made from a large joint of bamboo, eight to ten inches in
diameter. When the wood was still green, the hard outer surface
of the bamboo was slit into strings of various lengths, left attached
at each end. A little wedge or bridge was inserted at each end of
the slit to lift the string away from the wood. Then the instrument
was allowed to dry, making the strings taut and tough. Each was
played by a woman, who struck the strings with slender strips of
bamboo, holding one in each hand. Her child, husband, or lover
held the instrument. There were also Panpipesmouth organs
made of bamboo tubes about a half inch in diameter which were
cut at different lengths, getting shorter and shorter, so that as they
were passed along the lips and blown they sounded the various
notes of a scale. These, with bamboo nose flutes, which were blown
by the men, completed the instruments of the orchestra.
The music was excellent. Gabriel, now more at ease, translated
the songs and talked with the old men about the meaning of the
dances. The most impressive dance was performed by the men,
who, with arms outstretched, danced in a circle, whirling and turn
ing like hornbills in flight, while their women danced in one

M*
comer, in no particular formation, as though they were birds hop
ping about on the ground.
Gabriel did some steps of the Rigodon, the state dance of the
Filipinos, and demonstrated other dances he had learned in the
Lowlands. I contributed a shamans dance, imitating a trance state
at the end of it. Even before I arose from the floor, I realized I
had made a mistake. Either the rhythm of the dance, or the trance,
had thrown the Ilongots into a state of excitement. As the young
men swung to the floor for their next dance, Gabriel turned pale
and trembled.
I have heard my mother sing that tune, he whispered. It is
the dance they do when they are going to take a head. We should
not have come here without soldiers. Ijah has brought us up here
as sacrifices. I was sure of it this afternoon when we arrived. They
have harvested the rice, but have not yet put it into their store
house. This means that they have not yet taken a head to pay the
anitos back for the life force they will receive from eating the rice.
When it is ripe, they cut the rice stalk by stalk and stack it up on
bamboo platforms to dry until they take a head.
I tried to convince Gabriel that we were in no danger, but as
the young men darted past us again and again, I became less con
fident that the dance was merely a friendly social gesture. As the
pace of the dancers quickened, my companions terror increased.
You must stop them, he sobbed at last. Everyone is looking
straight at me as he passes. You must stop them quickly. They are
going to take my head.
The change in the dancers was indeed alarming. They looked
dazed, and had a piercing and set expression about the eyes. They
were staring at Gabriel with a concentration that sent shivers down
my spine. Unless I did something quickly, Gabriel would probably
die of fear.
I stepped toward the dancers and clapped my hands loudly.
Throughout the evening Gabriel and I had clapped at the end of
each performance. Taken by surprise, the musicians ceased play
ing. The dance came to a standstill. There was only one thing left
to do. I must sing a song that would quiet them.
Fortunately I had grown up in a religious community. I launched
into Nearer, My God, to Thee. It worked like magic. At first
they listened with interest to the music; then they moved their
heads to and fro with the rhythm. Then one of them yawned and
153
the others took it up as though it were contagious. Their eyes began
to droop, and when I could see they were starting to resist the
drowsiness, I changed to another hymn. The same sequence oc
curred again. At dawn I was still singing hymns. I was astonished
to find that I knew so many.
Gabriels nerve was broken. He looked at me gratefully when
I insisted that he return to the Lowlands and gave him the money
to take him back to Bangued. I realized that if he spent another
day here he would almost certainly run amuck. It was better to
have no interpreter at all than to have one who awoke contempt
and suspicion. Through Gabriel I arranged for one of the young
men of the household to carry my pack and explain my drawings
and games. The fee was to be a handful of horsehair every day.
When the lad wished to go no further south, he was to hire for
me, at the house where he left me, another assistant who knew the
territory I was about to enter.
By concentrating on learning the language, in which Gabriel had
been instructing me intensively since I first met him, I would soon
be able to speak the dialect well enough myself to give the non
language tests at least.
An hour after Gabriel left, I set out for a clearing higher in
the mountain, which could be seen dimly across the canyon. I
might have stayed on longer with Ijah, but the cut rice drying on
the bamboo platforms under the banana-leaf thatch bothered me.
Probably I could find ranchos where the grain had already been put
away.
With me was the young man whom Gabriel had engaged, and
a half dozen of his friends. The trail led up the steep side of the
canyon, then across some flats where the grass was so high that
we walked through a tunnel. Here and there the country was cut
by deep ravines, and we crossed them on huge roots and primitive
suspension bridges of woven vines and rattan that made me dizzy.
My guide carried my pack over these sections as though he were
walking along a flat country road.
We arrived at the clearing shortly after noon. A shout brought
men, women, and children around us in a moment. They appeared
out of nowhere, and greeted their friends from the neighboring
village with shouts and peals of laughter. I was much more of a
curiosity here than I had been the day before. Apparently I was the
first white man some of them had seen. The diversion was welcome.
154
Soon everybody was playing with the puzzles and experimenting

with pencil and paper. Again, their drawings were excellent. They
also made high scores on the puzzles, and they were not shy about
doing them nor apologetic when they made mistakes on the Maze.
I was again given the compartment usually occupied by the
young men who came to the community house to court the women
of the group. The three suitors who were there when we arrived
made arrangements to sleep in the already crowded compartment
occupied by the young men of the house.
The air circulated freely through the chinks in the bamboo walls
and under the raised floor of my room. The heavy thatched roof
made an effective screen against the afternoon heat. I lay idly
listening to the confused sounds without, in which were mingled
childrens voices, the birdlike twitter of the young women as they
vied with each other for the attention of their admirers, the growl
ing of dogs, and the ever-present afternoon chorus of the cica
das.
I was happy. What did it matter that it might take me a year or
two to work my way to Manila, if I could live with these free and
spontaneously friendly people? A couple of months of intensive
work on their language and I would be able to learn about their
institutions, their kinship system, their economy, and their magical
and shamanistic practices.
As the preparation of the evening meal progressed, the chorus of
household and jungle sounds was pushed into the background of
my attention by the savory odor of food. In a slice of reddish sun
light, filtering from the eaves diagonally across the house, were
tiny particles of blue smoke. Through the chinks I watched a
wrinkled old woman as she moved into the beam and was lost
again in the shadows from which she had emerged. The suns rays
revealed an expression of great patience and concentration. I
marveled that a human being could be so completely absorbed by
the simple task of cooking. On the coals of her slow fire I could
see a half-dozen bamboo cylinders, olive green at the top, where
the fire had not scorched them, and shading downward from tan
through mahogany red to black, where they were charred by the
heat. Deftly she plucked one from the coals, tilted it above the
glossy surface of a traylike leaf, and removed the cover, made of
a larger cylinder of bamboo. From the creamy throat came a cas
cade of dazzlingly white rice grains.
155
The woman was an artist. When I came to the evening meal I

saw that each kernel of rice was as perfect as a snowflake, and
as fluffy. From other tubes, laid on a number of fires, appeared a
wide assortment of exotic vegetables and meats, including a tender
mauve banana blossom, bamboo shoots, pale green tips of rattan
plants, small boiled bananas with cubes of sugar-cane pith, squash,
and several leafy vegetables and roasted roots which were strange
to me.
In the center of the heap of food appeared the hindquarter of
a giant tropical porcupine, which the men had been turning on a
spit beneath the house. I was already dizzy with the variety of
colors and odors when an enormous leaf was slid before me and I
was told to eat. Was this my food for the week? I was surprised
when, at the end of an hour, I had stowed it all away.
My desire to sleep after the heavy dinner was frustrated by my
assistant, who told the gathering about the songs I had sung in his
clearing the night before. From the interest he raised, I realized I
could not escape another evening of singing and dancing. Bamboo
jugs were hauled from under the house. They contained fermented
sugar-cane juice, which the Ilongots extracted from sugar cane by
crushing the stalks in a primitive mill.
I had seen the process in the afternoon. They had made the mill
by laying a large log against a tree trunk. The top of this log had
been hacked flat, except for grooves cut into it to carry off the
sap. The roller was a round twenty-foot sapling, one end tied
with rattan loops to the tree trunk, the other extending out over
the flattened log. The stalks were fed in between the sapling and
the log, one at a time, by a woman. A man standing at the small end
of the sapling, twenty feet away from the tree, pressed down on
the pole and rolled it along over the stalk. The sapling served as a
lever as well as a roller. The juice ran off through the grooves to
a piece of bamboo attached to the side of the flattened log, which
funneled it into a pot. After extraction, the juice was boiled, cooled,
enriched from jars already fermenting, and set aside until it began
to turn sour, when it was considered ready for use.
On the previous night no wine had been served. Even so, the
natives had appeared dangerously aggressive in their dance. I
watched my new hosts now as they set out a dozen jugs before the
fireplace of the oldest patriarch in the house. The young men who
had come along with me were pleased at the prospect of an eve-
1 5 6
nings drinking, but for me it brought back the picture of the Ne

gritos at their feast, aggressively lashing out at their dogs.
As the contents of the first large jug was poured into coconut
shell cups, a foreboding of evil and danger, amounting to convic
tion, possessed me. The men produced their drums, and the old
patriarch dug a battered bronze Chinese ga?isa from beneath his
mats. It was very old and had a hoarse, deep ring. From among their
possessions, the women brought out the bamboo mouth organs and
xylophones.
Soon all the group were singing. The songs went round and
round the room, each man taking a solo, which was then repeated
in chorus. The excellence of the music and the warming effect of
the wine picked up my spirits. The little mugs were circulated re
peatedly.
Finally my turn came to sing. I had found that the Negritos
liked the rhythm and the tune of Jingle Bells. Now I tried it
out on the Ilongots, with such great success that I sang it over and
over again. At first the drums and gansas picked up the rhythm.
Then, as I repeated it, the Panpipes, xylophones, and nose flutes
came in. Before I finished, a chorus of voices joined me, supplying
words of their own to the music.
The fires on the clay hearths flickered. In their rosy shifting
light, white teeth, brown eyes, and lithe, handsome bodies gleamed
or grew shadowy with the rising and falling of the evening
breeze.
It seemed to me that I had no reason to fear these pleasant peo
ple, overflowing with music and good will. Now that they had
shown they could appreciate my song and even sing it with me,
I felt more easy about them. Surely my foreboding of evil was
groundless. Soon the pulsing rhythm of the gong and the drums
lulled me to sleep. The Ilongots dissolved into flitting dreamlike
figures.
I opened my eyes; the fitful puffs of wind, which earlier had
fanned the fires into rhythmic bursts of light, had now grown
into a strong, steady current of air sweeping down from the east.
It had blown the opalescent pall of smoke from the room. The
bodies of the Ilongots stood out in bold relief against the red glow
of the fires. An oily perspiration, drawn out by exercise, covered
their skin, giving them a metallic sheen. They were no longer
human beings filled with good will. They were sinister animated
figures of bronze.
*5 7
All the younger men, including the lads from the near-by clear
ing, were dancing in a circle in the center of the room. They had
only one face and one rhythm. The old men at their drums, and
the women at their instruments on the edge of the dancing group,
were tied into this rhythm by an invisible current. The slightest
movement might hurl me into that mysterious vortex. I lay per
fectly still, peering out from under closed lids, attempting to col
lect my thoughts. Fear to the point of panic had got hold of me,
but I was not yet sure what I was afraid of. I needed time to decide
which was the real world and which was the world of dreams.
I examined the sounds, colors, and shapes, and the quality of the
dance movement. Suddenly I realized that they were singing the
head-hunting song which had set Gabriel shaking the previous
night. But now / was the object of that terrifying concentration.
The rhythm of the dance had been set, its direction determined
like an arrow in flight. And I was the target.
The benevolent old gentleman at the gong had undergone a
mysterious transformation during the hours that I had slept. Now
the hard lines of his face expressed cruelty and condemnation.
Round and round moved the dancers, slicing the air with their
broad-bladed head knives.
I could not accept the cadence of this ceremony as my destiny.
The old men had known many men before and had controlled
many situations similar to this. I would have to act differently from
their previous victims. I would have to act now.
My body bounded from beside the hearth. I felt a roar in my
throat, a sound such as I had never heard, which paralyzed the old
man's hands above the gong and the hands of the men at the drums,
and which froze the dancers.
For a moment even the flames stood still. Two long steps carried
me to the center of that frozen circle of dancers. Before the old
man or anyone else had found the will to act, my own body was
doing a crazy, violent dance. A voice which possessed memy
own voice, yet not minewas singing a crazy song. All around I
saw the open mouths of the dancers, the women, the old men at the
drums.
I watched the hard lines of the patriarchs face change from
astonishment to surprise, and gradually relax into the goodhumored expression of the day before. As my body bounced and
my arms made motions which somehow were attached to that
strange voice within me, the astonishment on the faces of the men
158
PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS.
turned into amusement. With the change in the audience, I felt my

song and my dance changing. The bounce left my muscles. Soon
I was dancing waltzes for them, as I had done the previous evening.
As the blackness outside the windows gave way to sickly gray, I
was again singing the doxology and Nearer, My God, to Thee.
Roars of laughter gave way to snores, as the wine and the sooth
ing religious music anaesthetized my audience. In the midst of a
sleeping household, where only the childrens eyes peeped at me,
I softly sang Brahms Lullaby as a finale.
When sunlight flooded through the glassless windows of the
large room, dispelling the mist from the sea of bright green treetops below the house, it was difficult to believe that the mad dance
of the night before was not just part of some nightmare I had had.
In the jungles and mountains a great gulf is fixed between the night
and the day worlds. My mind would not cross it now, as I watched
the women laughing and singing at their task of preparing the
morning meal. But here, as at Ij ahs house, I saw the cut rice stalks
drying on bamboo platforms under the banana-leaf thatch.
The afternoon before, all the members of the household had
drawn their picture of a man for me, and had done my puzzles. I
would not be able to collect their dreams or give the other tests
until I learned the language, and I would have to pick that up on
the trail. If I moved on, spending only a night in each house until
I knew more about these people, I would not lose the advantage of
the element of surprise, and their feeling of curiosity would not
have time to give way to other emotions. The squirt gun in my
pocket, full of ammonia, felt comfortable now, rather than heavy.
I woke my boy and pointed south. He declined to go farther,
but a lad of the house helped to pack my things. After breakfast he
set out with me for another community, which, from the angle he
described in the sky, I judged we would reach by midafternoon.
About noon we met a little group of men who were blacker than
any mountaineers I had seen on this central range, and who were
almost as small as Negritos, but more hairy than any Negritos I
had met.
My boy talked with them and tried, by sign language, to tell me
something they had said about the trail ahead, but I could not
understand him. The travelers looked so fierce that I half wished
the boy would refuse to go farther. But bidding them good-by, he
picked up my pack and we set out up the trail.
FOURTEEN
MacGregor and the Enemy
JLHE air was warm and moist,

and the trail hot, especially in the grass tunnels. About two
oclock, as we reached the high ground across the valley from the
house we had left, we heard voices and thumps on the heavy
packed earth, as though men were running. I wondered, with panic,
why men should run in this peaceful wilderness. The sound grew
louder. Three horses ridden by natives appeared around the bend.
The men carried rifles in saddle scabbards, and wore pistols at their
belts. They were followed by three pack horses, and a number of
men on foot carrying packs. Near the rear of the procession rode
a grizzled old man who looked like an American. He introduced
himself as MacGregor, and explained that he was a prospector. I
knew this territory had not been completely mapped, and I had
thought myself to be the only white man within thirty miles. The
old prospector was about as surprised as I.
Well, Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! he exclaimed. What are you
doing on this goddamned trail?
I told him that I planned to travel south through the mountains to
Manila, stopping at villages on the way to give my nonlanguage
*59
160
mental tests. Whenever I paused for breath, he shook his head.

Well, Ill be goddamned! Of all the crazy ideas! I never heard tell
of such a fool!
At last he asked me if I had had lunch. When I confessed that
it had been limited to a sweet potato, he told his men to make camp
and prepare a meal, also instructing them in dialect to transfer
the load of one of the pack horses to the other two and to put a
blanket over the empty packsaddle so I could ride.
With any other group in the Philippines a crazy galoot like you
might get away with such a scheme, he went on. But if you
try it among the Ilongots, the chances are ten to one youll never
reach Manila. And if you had enough soldiers to protect you, the
people would get sulky and refuse to do your tests.
Ive got a camp in Abra and Im going to take you along. Well
be going through some mountain villages where the people are
as savage as they are down here, but youll have a chance with
them. If those people like you, theyll help you. Down here theyll
probably kill you if they dont like you, and theyre sure to kill
you, to keep your anito with them, if they do like you.
Just a few years back a man I met came here from the Field
Museum to study these devils. They liked him, told him all they
knew, and gave him everything they had. They had been drowned
out by heavy rains for a couple of years, and good weather hap
pened to start just about when he arrived. They thought hed
brought it. Ive heard since that they loved him like a brother. He
was part Indian himself and took to them. He must have been a
great guy, but when he told them he was leaving, they snipped off
his head like that. Grimly the old man snapped a dry twig.
Theyve got you coming and going. If you act crazy enough,
the Moros in the Southern Islands think youve come straight from
God and treat you like a prince. These people think a guy is in with
the amtos if hes as crazy as you seem to be, and they want to keep
his spirit in the district. If they think youre wise, they kill you
to keep your savvy for the tribe. If they think youre a fool, theyll
kill you because youre in with the amtos. If they dislike you,
theyll kill you because they think youre bad. You may get away
with a few more nights like the last two, but the first ones who
really like your singing will take your head and keep it as a spirit
music box, and think they have honored you in the bargain. Whats
the use of taking a ten-to-one shot when you can find people just
MACGREGOR AND THE ENEMY
161
as good up north, where the oddsll be one to ten? I dont often

feel so cussed strong about things, he concluded, but Im simply
not going to let you go down among these devils, if I have to take
you out hog-tied.
I really did not need such vehement persuasion to make me
change my plans. Lack of sleep and the hard trail in the humid heat
had made me submissive. But I was glad the old man took a firm
stand, for I could now retreat without the feeling that I was run
ning away from my own fear. I was about to give my bearer my
remaining supply of horsehair, but the prospector objected on the
ground that it would flood the market. Giving him a generous
days pay and explaining that I had changed my plans, the old man
sent him back. He put the horsehair and trinkets in his own saddle
bag. This will pay for your ticket back on my train, he said. Ill
use it the next time I come down.
For the next week I listened with increasing astonishment to
MacGregors accounts of his experiences during nearly sixty years
of adventurous living. He had been on his present venture for
three months and was glad to have someone to talk to. His most
astounding tales concerned the thirty-odd native wives, from half
as many mountain tribes, whom he had married during his life as
a prospector. He was an authority on native marriage ceremonies
and customs, and scrupulously observed the laws of courtship and
the taboos of the native groups into which he had married.
Pick out the one you like, give her old man a deer, sit through
some ceremonies, and the girl is yours, he said. Shes bashful and
sweet for awhile. When she starts to get grouchy and thinks she
can rule the roost, you simply send her back to her family with
another deer and a few silver pesos. This gives her enough wealth
to insure marriage to some younger man, and everybody is happy.
The old native leaders really like it. They think marriage to a
white man, even for a short time, brings new mana into the tribe,
for we whites are supposed to have strong spirits. Youd think
theyd raised race horses and knew the dangers of too much inbreeding.
MacGregor possessed as strong a spirit as any I had encountered.
In the villages through which we passed, everybody knew him and
was fond of him. About the only thing he did not forgive in the
natives was their habit of killing the younger of every pair of twins.
162
He was himself a twin. What chance would I have had if I had

been born to one of these devils? he asked, spitting contemp
tuously.
MacGregor had been prospecting in northern Luzon since the
beginning of the c.entury, and before that he had looked for gold
in Australia and New Zealand. I explained that I wanted to study
the Ilongots because by learning to till the soil they had moved
up the ladder of human progress, so that they were a step above the
hunting-and-gathering Negritos.
Next above the Ilongots, who carried on only a shifting, dry
land cultivation, would be a people who also domesticated animals
and irrigated and fertilized the soil, and who were learning to live
together in territories where the rights of more than one kindred
group had to be considered.
I can put you down in just such a placeBontocin the center
of a people whove learned to live in cities, said MacGregor.
There must be almost three thousand in Bontoc and about two
thousand in Samoki, its sister city across the river. Theyre not as
dangerous as the Ilongots, because since the turn of the century,
theyve been in close touch with the American authorities and the
Lowland Filipinos. Theres a sprinkling of people up there who
speak English, so youll be able to get along without an inter
preter.
Although I had not expected to go to Bontoc until after I had
returned to Manila, the Bontocs were on my program. Now, as I sat
in the humid jungle heat, Bontoc sounded like paradise. I tried to
voice a grudging consent to go along with MacGregor, but he
could probably detect a grateful eagerness beneath my feigned
reluctance.
Four days of travel took us across the Magat River valley to
the area northeast of Buguias. MacGregor kept to the high moun
tain trails. We were in the home country of his servants, inhabited
by a people he referred to as Kankanai, because they spoke the
Kankanai dialect. They were a branch of the Lepanto Igorots, and
were called enemy by the peoples around them because they
occupied the impregnable mountain heights and defended them
selves resourcefully against the Bontoc, Ifugao, and Kalingan head
hunters. So far as was known, the Kankanai were not, and had
never been, head-hunters. They were well-built, handsome people,
163
heavily muscled like the Kalingas, but not quite as Oriental-look

ing. Many of them, especially the women, had the large lustrous
eyes of the Uongots. The men cropped their hair, and the women
wore bangs in front, with long hair hanging down their backs.
The hands and arms of both the men and women were tattooed.
On the backs of the hands of the men I noticed a circular tattoo
which seemed in some way to represent or refer to the sun. There
were also tattoos on tumors, goiters, and areas of the body which
had been badly bruised or sprained. Tattooing had some religious
significance, and when it was applied to the areas of the body in
which there were blemishes or imperfections, it was thought to
exert a therapeutic influence.
Most of the men, including MacGregors servants, owned little
toilet sets, including metal spoons for cleaning their ears and home
made metal tweezers for pulling out face and body hair.
The houses had high, peaked thatched roofs, which looked like
square wigwams. There were many well-made stone pigpens,
housing pigs which seemed healthier and larger than any I had
seen in the Lowlands. Usually the trails leading from house to
house in the ranchos were paved with flat stones, with rock gut
ters to carry off the frequent downpours of rain. Around the
barrios were low terraces, flooded with water, in which the natives
planted rice and taro. The terrace walls were usually built of clay
and seeded with grass to keep the banks from washing away.
Near many of the houses were rock-fenced corrals for the horses
which the Kankanai raised. MacGregor told me there were no
other horses in the Philippines which could compare with them
on the mountain trails for toughness, endurance, and sure-footedness. When I saw the eagles nests in which they had been reared,
and the way the natives pushed them up and down the slippery
paths around their mountain ranchos, I could well believe him.
Both the men and the women rode these sturdy ponies, bareback
or with primitive leather saddles with slender copper stirrups
which they made themselves, for the Kankanai had been mining
and forging copper for hundreds of years, certainly before the
Spaniards had entered their territory and made treaties with them
about 1830.
After that they were famous in northern Luzon for the counter
feit Spanish coins they made and circulated throughout the ter
ritory. The Spanish never objected to these counterfeits, for cur-
164
rency was always scarce in northern Luzon, and the stream of

Kankanai coins added to the metal supply of the island.
The native coppersmiths also made skillets, jugs, and other
utensils which were highly prized throughout the island. Mac
Gregor had never been able to discover the native methods of
smelting the copper, and no one else had learned their secrets, so
far as he knew. They also did hard-rock gold mining, attacking the
narrow veins of native metal, wherever they were found, with their
primitive iron axes and crowbars, following the veins along the
steep cliffs, often hanging like spiders on slender strands of rattan.
The gold-laden quartz they dug was crushed with stone hammers,
ground fine between flat stones, and then panned so that the rock
particles could be separated from the dust and nuggets.
The Kankanai also obtained gold from the stream beds in their
copper pans, saving the finer particles of float, as well as the heavier
dust. This skill at panning gold, which MacGregor said was greater
than he had seen anywhere in the world, won for them his undying
admiration. I was not sure whether it was the gold or the horses
which had made him adopt the enemy as his family. He had
always paid them fairly for their dust and nuggets* and seemed
to have their absolute confidence. Their primitive knowledge of
gold-bearing rocks and of formations in which gold was likely to
occur, and their skill at handling the horses, accounted for the
fact that for twenty years he had been using the Kankanai as
servants.
I feel at home with them because of their religion, too, he
said one day as we feasted in one of the larger houses of a par
ticularly high rancho, where his head boy lived. Among all the
mountain groups of northern Luzon, theyre most like the Chris
tians, since they do no head-hunting and believe in one god.
Theyre superstitious about the anitos and the ancestors, but they
dont regard them as gods, and theyre no more afraid of ghosts
or of death than most of the civilized people Ive known.
He sent back the meat to be boiled by his own cook. Im never
quite at home eating here, he admitted, until all the meat has been
cooked twice. Were having horse meat, and as likely as not, the
horse died of disterrtper, or fell off a cliff and was not found for
a day or two. Whenever an animal dies of sickness or accident,
these people eat it. As often as I tell them how dangerous it is, they
keep right on doing it. One of their favorite foods is dog meat.
165
They starve the dog until its almost dead, then feed it a bucket of
rice, beat it to death to make it tender, and cook it on a spit, with
the half-digested rice as dressing.
The vegetables at the feast were plentiful and variedsquash,
tomatoes, cucumbers, dry-land rice, and camotes, a kind of sweet
potato, in abundance. We also had both mangoes and bananas,
which abounded in the territory.
Apparently camotes were the mainstay of their diet. Wild pig
and deer were plentiful in the territory, and eel was served at the
feast and on several other occasions. I was told that few other
kinds of fish could navigate the small mountain streams of the
Kankanai territory. There was plenty of tapuyrice wineat this
feast, and at the others we attended. It was served in carved wooden
bowls.
The house posts and floor beams were not carved, as they had
been in the Ilongot houses, but the walking sticks, spoons, bowls,
and lime boxes were attractively decorated. I saw numerous carved
statues of human beings. They were small in size, and rugged, but
portrayed great vitality. Also, the likeness of a dancing man was
carved on most of the shields. MacGregor had the impression that
this dancing man, the sun tattooed on the back of their hands, and
the little anito figures, were in some way representative of, or dedi
cated to, the high god, as were many of the songs and dances.
These people sang a lot, both at their feasts and on the trails.
They had two musical instruments I had not seen before. One was
a piece of bamboo, carved down the middle so it looked from the
side like a tuning fork. The women played it by holding it in the
left hand, striking it against their right forearm. Near the septum,
at the closed end, was a hole which they thumbed as they played
to change the pitch of the sound. This instrument had some re
ligious significance and was thought to offer protection to its
bearer. The women often carried it and played it as tney walked
along the trails.
At the feasts and ceremonies, the men played pairs of narrow,
long-barreled wooden drums, which were so flexible that the
player could alter the pitch by pressing the drum barrel under
his arm or between his legs. The drumheads were made of welltanned pig or lizard skin. The men played these with both hands,
and obtained different sounds by striking the head at the center
or on the side. The drums alone sounded like an orchestra. There
166
were also brass gongs played with sticks, like those of the Ne
gritos, but the sticks were not wrapped or covered with skin. The
Kankanai too called these instruments gansas.
The men also accompanied their singing and dancing by strik
ing a small stone on a steel bar. It sounded like the triangle used in
American orchestras.
One of the most characteristic things about their ranchos was a
low bamboo platform outside every house, on which they de
posited offerings of food or flowers to the ancestors and to the
high god, another step up toward the altar of the temples of modem
man. Unlike the Ilongots and the Kalingas they did not have com
munity houses for extra wives, for the Kankanai were monoga
mous. Their children were betrothed at an early age by the parents,
and often set up housekeeping in early adolescence. Divorce was
possible, but the divorce rate was not high. They attributed sick
ness to the anitos. Once it had arrived, both the high god and the
ancestors would help cure it if they were asked to do so in the
feasts and ceremonies.
When a man dies, said MacGregor, they have a funeral feast
to which the whole community is invited. It continues until all of
his accumulated property has been drunk or eaten up. It works like
an inheritance tax, and shows their political foresight., Similarly,
he felt that their making and circulating counterfeit Spanish coins
when they were needed proved their flair for economics.
I had to agree with him that the greatest inventive genius of the
Kankanai was expressed in their jewelry. He had mentioned their
skill at casting and beating gold the first day I met him, and he
had referred to it often even before we reached their territory.
Theyve invented something in the line of adornment for women,
he said, which, when it becomes generally known, will make them
famous and blessed in every household throughout the world.
He would tell me nothing about it. I would have to see this
primitive invention before I could believe it. I had begun to think
there was some catch to MacGregors story, that this invention was
something like the wampas bird which flew backward, which I
had heard about in childhood, when at the last rancho we were
to visit before we reached the Bontoc country on our way north,
he produced the goods.
There were three women and two adolescent girls in the house
hold, all of whom were completely silent as they served us the
167
evening meal. It was quite a change from the lively buzz of con
versation which was usually stimulated by MacGregors appear
ance and continued until he was out of sight. He watched me ex
pectantly.
Are these women deaf mutes? I inquired at last. I was mysti
fied, since I remembered distinctly hearing womens voices when
we first reached the rancho before I entered the house. He spoke
to one of them, and she smiled, revealing a solid, gleaming gold sur
face. I noticed that all the others held their lips open a little so
that gold showed through from inside. So this was the great in
ventiona broad, flexible golden band which fitted inside the lips
and turned womans vanity against her loquaciousness, since when
wearing the decoration the woman was unable to talk.
Once you can afford one of these golden muzzles, he said,
you need have no fear of marrying a Kankanai woman. These
ancient ornaments prove that to be what is regarded as beautiful a
woman will even stop chattering.
Leaving the Kankanai territory we descended rapidly in a north
easterly direction toward Bontoc, going along ridges where the
rank jungle growth gave way to fragrant pine forests. Mac
Gregors servants were no longer hurrying to see their people, so
our journey was more leisurely. From day to day MacGregor went
on with his task, long since accomplished, of convincing me that I
should concentrate on the Bontocs and the Ifugao. Each time I
tried to get his help in filling in the many gaps in my knowledge
of the Ilongots, he showed his willingness to tell me what he knew
of them and also used the occasion to go on persuading me that if
I insisted on traveling alone, I had a much better chance of keep
ing my head among the more northerly groups which we were
approaching. The Bontocs and the Ifugao are less dangerous than
the Ilongots because their sacrificing of human beings is more con
ventionalized and is only a part of a system which also includes the
sacrificing of domesticated animals. If someone has trouble with
his voice, for instance, they can sacrifice a dog which is good at
barking, growling, and baying at the moon. The Ilongots, however,
would kill a man to get the power out of his voice and throat, in
stead of just sacrificing a dog. If anything goes wrong, the Ilongots
kill someone to make it right, unless doing so is too dangerous for
them. Their society is like a trigger-happy nervous person who has
168
just had a gun put into his hands and shoots at everything that
moves, even when he doesnt mean to. They are very much afraid
of illness. When the anitos do not tell them in their dreams what
to do for it, they stuff the sick person with food and leave him to
survive or perish. When someone dies they do not take the trouble
to bury him, but desert the house that he dies in, so it can become
his sepulcher, whereas the Bontocs and the Ifugao can sacrifice
animals and call down the thirty generations of ancestors who
live in the Eastern Middle World, together with the sky god and
the gods of the underworld, to help cure the sick person.
The Ifugao have an aristocracy or noble caste, a middle caste,
and a serf or slave caste. The nobles cannot show fear in front of
the people who are beneath them. Since they are usually the
highest-ranking priests, they must act brave so the gods will not
lose prestige. Every married man regards as his ancestors not only
those in his own lineage, but those in his wifes also. It takes hours
of rapid chanting for the noblemen of Ifugao even to mention all
these ancestors. Before a conflict they make sacrifices and call on
these brave ancestors, counting their deeds of valor until they are
fully persuaded that there is no danger at all with such support. By
the time they are ready to fight, each has a whole army of brave
spirits at his command.
The Bontocs and Igorots eat dogs. Probably dogs were the first
animals to be domesticated by man. MacGregor had also seen the
Ifugao eat them on special occasions, if they were commanded to
do so in a dream. They do not regard meat as ordinary food. Most
animals are killed only as part of a ceremony. The ancestors and
the spirits from the heavens and the underworld are always invited
to eat the invisible soul or shadow of the food before the people
eat the substance.
Every year after the rice is harvested, the men of Bontoc and
Samoki line up on opposite sides of the dry river bed and attack
each other with stones. They have shields when they start, but
these are usually smashed up before the battle is half completed;
if the men are lucky, they come out covered with bruises and
bumps, if not, they may have broken ribs and fractured skulls.
The next day they are all good friends again, but MacGregor said
that at the time they look, and sound, as though they were trying
to murder each other. They have to do this every year, or the
rice would not grow in their terraces.
1 69
Every clan has a rice priest or priestess, usually chosen through

a dream. After the old rice priest has died, someone of the proper
rank always has a dream in which the gods elect him as the next
priest. Everyone in the clan follows this leader in planting, caring
for, and harvesting the rice. Youll probably get to go to a rice
harvesting festival, as theyre being held in Ifugao at this time of
the year, said MacGregor.
I gathered that the United States Department of Agriculture,
and all the accumulated scientific knowledge of the world, did not
count for as much in Ifugao as the actions of these rice leaders.
The remaining days with MacGregor passed quickly, and I was
sorry to say good-by to him when he set me down at the Lieutenant
Governors mansion in the city of Bontoc.
FIFTEEN
Bontoc
A HE city of Bontoc, named after

the subprovince in which it is situated, covers a territory about
one-half mile square, divided almost equally into three parts by
two gulleys which traverse it. It lies in a picturesque valley,
with terraced slopes rising gracefully from its center like a park.
Its 2500 inhabitants live in seventeen districts or wards (atos) which
are presided over by councils of old men. A council is self-perpet
uating, since its members decide when a man living in its district is
wise, famous, or rich enough to be invited to join it and be called
an intugtukan.
Before the American occupation, the ato council had the power
to declare war on another group or challenge it to a head-taking
contest, by sending a spear. If the dare was accepted by the chal
lenged group, a spear or head axe was sent back in return, and
there was war until one council or the other sued for peace by
sending a present to the enemy group and asking on what terms
peace could be obtained.
The old men of the ato council also had priestly duties to per
form. The waku, the highest class of priests, decided when the
170
BONTOC
l7'
citizens of Bontoc should celebrate holy days. The second class of
priests performed a ceremony (patay) every new moon, in a sacred
grove at the edge of town. Both of these ceremonies were dedicated
to Lumawig, the high god of the Bontocs, who had a hand in the
creation of all things. The third order of priests performed cere
monies to allay the baguios>or storms, to (drive away cold or fogs,
and to control the rains.
The ato council also exercised a judicial and police function in
its community. The members were very diligent in collecting the
finespigs, chickens, rice, and bastthey imposed for breaches of
holy days, and for quarrels and grievances. Both the civic interests
and the appetites of the priests accounted for this diligence, since
whenever a fine was collected, they declared a feast and ate it up.
Being priests, the old men had powers of divination to help them
decide the justice of cases in which conflicting claims were made;
they therefore felt no need for trial by jury.
One of the methods of deciding guilt between two parties, when
testimony disagreed, was to have each chew a mouthful of dry rice
and spit it out at a signal from the council. Since the guilty man
would have a dry mouth, his rice would be drier than that of the
innocent man. The priests also showed me a short, flat, carved
stick, with the point of a nail protruding about one-eighth of an
inch down at each end. Sometimes two conflicting parties were
stood up back to back, and the stick was laid across their heads. It
was then struck a sharp blow by one of the councilmen. The hot
headed man would bleed more freely than his cooler, more de
pendable opponent.
The old men were also experts in interpreting the actions of the
omen bird and in making divinations from the bile sacs of the
chickens and pigs which were paid as fees by the plaintiffs.
Each ato had three public buildings. One was the pabafunan,
a clubhouse where all the men and boys over the age of four or
five congregated, and where the unmarried men slept at night. The
house stood in a courtyard surrounded by a fence made of phallus
shaped rocks and slabs of wood on which were carved crude human
heads. In the head-hunting days these rocks and slabs supported
the head baskets, into which the heads taken by the men of the ato
were put when they were first obtained. Each young man who
joined the ato was tattooed, progressively, according to the num
ber of heads taken b^ his group, the tattoo not being completed
172
until he himself had taken a head. Women were not allowed to

enter the pabajunan.
Near the pabafunan, but with no adjoining passage, was the fawi,
which served as council house for the old men. Unless a man was
elected a member of the council, he could not enter the fawi. Be
neath the stones of the fawi courtyard were buried all the heads
taken by the ato, a few of which were sometimes dug up for cere
monial purposes.
The third public building of the district was the olog, the dor
mitory for the unmarried females of the ato.
The Bontocs traced their lineage back to a great flood. Fatanga
and his sister, Fukan, were the sole survivors of it, and saved them
selves by climbing up Mount Pokis, north of Bontoc. Lumawig
saw they had no fire and went to a volcano south of Bontoc to get
them some. Returning, he found Fukan with child. This made
Lumawig fly up into the sky like a bird. My informants were not
clear about why the god had left the first ancestors at this point,
but I suspected that it was because Fatanga had broken the incest
taboo and cohabited with his sister.
After the gods departure, the couple came down from the
mountain and established the city of Bontoc. Their children inter
married and the population increased. After a time Lumawig de
cided to come back to earth to help his people and to look over
various groups of Fatangas descendants. He did not like the looks
of the women any place but in Bontoc. Some had cropped their
hair. Others were sickly, and others lazy. He met two sisters in
Bontoc, however, who were just right. One of them, named Fukan
after the first ancestress, so pleased him that he married her, after
throwing a bean into her basket. Apparently he had brought the
bean down from heaven, and this act was the beginning of the
bean upon earth. He lived for awhile in Bontoc, taught the people
there the art of agriculture, gave them patterns for their public
buildings, instructed them in the proper ceremonies, and gave them
names for everything, including the city of Bontoc.
I was led to a terrace in which a taro plant was growing which
Lumawig was said to have planted with his own hands. The old
men said that because Lumawig had brought this taro to the earth
and planted it himself, it was eternal and would grow forever if
you dug up the root for food and planted the crown again in the
soil. Apparently there was a spring in this terrace which kept it
BONTOC
173
always overflowing with water, so the taro had never died. The
old keeper of the terrace told me that this water terrace was named
jilang, and that all the taro in the mountain country had been taken
from this spot.
Lumawig was credited with establishing a code of ethics for
the Bontocs, which was enforced by the ato councils. The Bontoc
men were not to steal, lie, nor take more than one wife, and they
were to be, as brothers. Lumawig also gave them an economic
system, in which the rice he had supplied served as currency in
the exchange of all other produce. The smallest unit of exchange
was a handful of palay, a small bundle of rice heads. The number
of these bundles which could be carried conveniently by the
average person was called a burden.
The high-school students told me that the old people still trans
lated Filipino and American currency into handfuls and burdens
of palay whenever they carried on economic transactions.
The Bontocs lived in stone houses with roofs of thatch. The
houses were neat and well made. By the side of each was a small,
well-thatched, rock pigpen, with a level where the pigs slept and
a level for collecting manure, which the Bontocs transferred to
their rice terraces. Paved walks, in which the shape of each stone
was defined by the bright-green moss and grass growing in the
interstices, formed geometric designs around the houses.
I obtained drawings from the school children and pottered about
the village for a few days, getting the men in the pabajunan to
work on the mechanical puzzles, and quizzing the lads, who had
been to school, about the Bontoc society.
After a child was four or five years old he no longer slept at
home, but in a dormitory or clubhouse with other unmarried young
men or women. Here the social life of the unmarried people was
carried on. The boys clubhouse was a meeting place in the day
time for the old men, who smoked, gossiped, and minded the
babies while their wives worked in the fields.
I stayed with the American governor of the subprovince of
Bontoc. He knew a great deal about the people and their history,
and invited some of the old men to his house every evening to tell
me about their myths and ceremonies. He was not surprised at
my account of the spirit transformation of Ogong. He had often
seen the Bontoc priest go into trance and speak with other mens

174
voices, sometimes assuming the voice and facial expressions of a
dead man he had known. The Bontoc priests, he said, had a welldeveloped tradition of spirit communication and spirit possession.
The Governor told me that the next village to the south was
about a days walk, and with my pack on a bamboo frame, I left
the city. Carried on my head, the pack protected me from the
frequent showers; when the weather was fine I slung it over my
shoulder.
The ill-kept road along which I tramped was hardly more than
a trail, and a pleasant quietness prevailed. The air was cool and
exhilarating, and the round red mountains, with their vivid green
foliage, were fresh and picturesque. On the trail I occasionally met
girls, breasts uncovered, bright-red skirts reaching halfway to their
knees, and feet bare, their bronze bodies glistening with perspira
tion from the exertion of carrying bundles of sticks, or leaves, or
sweet potatoes, slung from a band across their foreheads. Usually
they stopped to ask for a match and to pass the time of day, jok
ing about me as they went on down the trail.
Toward late afternoon some boys caught up with me on their
way from the sweet-potato land they were clearing. One of them,
Tajo, had been to school and could speak English. He insisted on
carrying my pack. He was the son of the Presidente of the village
of Tapon, and said that while I was there I must stay with him in
his clubhouse and take my meals with his family. When we arrived,
his father confirmed Tajos invitation and soon we sat down with
the family to a steaming dinner of boiled rice with small, brightred crabs (agkama), beans, and dried carabao meat which had
been salted away in jugs. For greens we ate young sweet-potato
leaves. The meat was high, but not objectionably so.
A drink, called safueng, was offered me at this dinner, but I
declined it because it was served cold and smelled as though it
contained a collection of all the germs in creation. With the Ne
gritos 1 had made it a policy to eat everything which was offered
me, but here I felt I must choose between certain death and dis
pleasing my host. He was not surprised when I told him my
stomach was too weak for such a strong drink, and admitted that
to appreciate it a cultivated taste was required.
I inquired how the drink was made, and decided it would be
more dangerous to a stranger than the Bontoc head-hunting. It was
brewed with cold water, into which were poured spare cooked
BONTOC
175
rice, camote peelings, cooked locusts, fish heads and skin, and all
the meat bones left over from the dinner. It had to set at least ten
days, but could be kept going indefinitely if it was put in a warm
place and fresh ingredients and water were added from day to
day to replace whatever was used.
Perhaps when the beverage got good and strong enough alcohol
and lactic acid formed to kill the harmful germs, but nothing short
of the prospect of losing my head could have made me take a sip
of it.
After dinner Tajo took me to see the village and the places of
interest in the neighborhood. It began to rain, and we ended up
at the olog of the girl he was courting. It was a tiny structure,
hardly high enough to allow a man to stand upright and not more
than sixteen feet square. In the corner was a fire of fragrant pine
boughs. The girls kept the baskets containing their possessions at
their homes, where they ate their meals and lived in the daytime.
Their sleeping boards were the only furniture in the little house.
Twelve young women, varying in age from six to twenty-five or
thirty, were gathered in the smoky interior. When we arrived,
half as many young men were visiting them. The door was hardly
more than a crack and I had to squeeze through it.
My entrance caused a great commotion. Some of the smaller
girls whispered with terror and withdrew into the shadows, where
only their wondering eyes were visible. Others tittered and sought
refuge behind the older girls, who broke into a babble of excited
inquiry. I had never been with so jolly a group. Waves of laughter
swept through the cabin.
Whats all the excitement and laughter about, Tajo? I asked,
when a moments silence gave me an opening.
Im explaining what a famous lover you are, he answered.
But Im a bachelor, I protested.
Thats what I said. Being rich enough to travel, you can have
many lovers, but you are never chosen for a husband because you
will soon be gone. I also mentioned the pictures you showed me of
the places you have visited. They would all like to see them.
I hauled out my pocket photograph album. Most of the girls
left the hewn slabs they usea as beds and pressed into a half circle
about the fire to look at the pictures. But recognizing pictures is
an art which must be learned. They had great difficulty understand
ing the pictures. The trouble primitives have with photographs and
176
diagrams makes it impossible to use them in intelligence tests. They

overcame their embarrassment quickly, however, and were soon
absorbed in what Tajo told them about the patches of light and
shadow on the photographs.
Suddenly there was silence. Everyone turned his head to listen.
A faint rhythmical buzz became audible above the patter of rain
on the low roof. One of the girls sprang to her feet. Smilingly she
admitted a young man. He slung the bundle of pine sticks he was
carrying on the fire and stood by it to dry himself. Naked except
for a loincloth, his rugged muscular body was studded with drops
of rain which gleamed in the firelight. I liked this newcomer who
surveyed me with steady eyes. These mountain people could re
spect a stranger because of the respect they had for themselves.
Everyone talked at once in answer to his questions about me, and
one of the older girls sat down beside me.
Presently the young man who had appeared so dramatically out
of the wet night reclined on his ladys plank, and I learned the
source of the buzzing sound we had heard outside. From his teacup-sized rattan hat, he produced a small bamboo jews-harp.
Holding it across his lips with the thumb and forefinger of his
left hand, and with his right hand jerking a string attached to its
bamboo tongue, he hummed the same song he had played at the
door of the olog to announce his arrival. My subsequent attempts
to play one of these little instruments ended in failure. The Bontocs always told me that my familiar spirit had given me no words
for my songs.
One or two other lads dropped in as the evening wore on, and
the gaiety of the party increased. The girl beside me offered me
what I took to be dried shrimps to chew from a small bamboo tube.
They were salty and tasted good, even after I learned they were
cooked dried locusts. As the evening wore on we also munched
sugar-cane pith, bananas, and other tidbits. The girls had gathered
quite a supply of snails during the day in the rice terraces, and
had them boiling in a pot into which everyone dipped, sucking
the meat from the tiny shells.
My companioncalled Betel because she had reddish hair which
resembled the teeth of the Ifugao and the Igorots who chewed
betel (both chewing betel and gambling were against the code of
ethics left to the Bontocs by Lumawig)babbled words to which
I, not knowing her language, could attach any meaning I liked.
BONTOG
177
As the hour grew late, the younger girls curled up on their boards
to sleep, or to feign sleep, while they watched the older members
of the party. The smaller boys left for their clubhouses. Mean
while the older boys and girls paid less attention to the group and
more to each other. The embers in the fire burned low.
Tajos girl had been sitting for some time between his legs, rest
ing her head on his knee. Occasionally he stroked her hair or
looked in it for lice, which he nibbled between his front teeth with
a dreamy expression.
Do you like those things? I asked him, half disgusted, half
fascinated, by the procedure.
They are full of blood, he answered. When you feel you
will die if you do nor own more of your lover, that blood will
keep you alive; it tastes like air when you are choking.
The girl by my side had taken my hand in her lap and was play
ing with my fingers. Her sun-burned hair glistened red in the fire
light. It was somewhat wavy, and I concluded that the Indonesian
strain of her ancestry was more marked than is usual among the
Bontocs. Her hands were rough from working in the fields, but
I could feel the smooth roundness of her thighs through her thin
skirt, woven, on a hand loom, of cotton grown by the Bontocs.
Although there was more wood, no one moved to replenish the
fire. The fresh smell of pine smoke was gradually giving way
to the odor of expectant female bodies. The air was becoming
chill.
My companion pulled me down beside her on the hewn tree
trunk which served her for a bed. Her body, though muscular, also
had a round softness. For a few moments we lay motionless. I was
assailed by the old troubled feeling of perplexity to which the
guest of primitive peoples is subject when, as so often happens, he
must grope for a clue as to what is expected of him.
How does one know what to do next, Tajo? I asked into the
semidarkness.
You dont do anything unless she takes off your loincloth, he
answered. And then you may do whatever you like.
But I dont wear a loincloth, I said.
The lad translated our conversation to the others. The olog
rocked with laughter.
During the hours that followed, I found that Tajos statement
about doing what you wanted to had been most inaccurate. He
G*
178
should have said, You may do what your partner feels will make
a night of love last forever.
The muscular strength, flexibility, and dexterity which climbing
the terraced walls and working in the fields had built into Betels
body, combined with the sharp nails of her toes and fingers, and
with the sharpness of her teeth, made her dangerous. There was
no freezing into immobility when I did not do what was expected.
At least, whatever freezing occurred was in myself and was oc
casioned by pain. Betel seemed to proceed on the assumption that
words were not necessary in love and that if a man could not know
by instinct or intuition or from the subtle shadowlike movements
and moods of his lover what was expected of him, then he should
suffer.
I concluded that if Betel was any sample of the Bontoc mother
the Bontoc children were not born in sin and conceived in iniquity,
like the ancients of Judea, but fashioned in the art of subtle, word
less communication and conceived in the agony of interminable
suspense.
As we walked home, toward morning, Tajo told me that he had
first gone to the olog at the age of five, when he had donned his
bowl-shaped rattan hat (suklang), and that he had been going there
for twelve years. When he was nine, he had become interested
in a girl and taken her presentsa flower, a bit of beeswax, an egg,
a pretty rock. Occasionally he had also brought wood for the olog
fire.
When he was twelve, his father had given him a songkitan, a
girdle twelve to fifteen feet long, made of some dozen strings of
twisted bark. Three years later he had received his wants, the loin
cloth. The order of this progressionfirst the covering of the
hair with the hat, then the confining of the belly in the girdle,
then the covering of the genitals, seemed characteristic of the Bon
toc culture, in which the individual exercised infinite control over
his genital functions apparently without rejecting his impulses.
It was as though the thoughts were trained first, the appetite for
food second, and the sexual impulses last. Adults often quieted and
soothed the children by stroking their genitals, and sexual play
among children was encouraged.
Tajo said that the younger boys usually left the olog quite early,
but by the age of nine they sometimes stayed all night. His girl
had been very shy, however, and had given him little opportunity
BONTOC
179
to experiment. At the age of thirteen, he had had his first love

experience, with one of the older girls. She was some ten years his
senior and had been trying for years to have a baby by every likely
young man who came to the ology so that she could be married.
He slept with her off and on for a couple of years, and occasionally
with some of the girls nearer his own age, before his present lover
had made him into a monogamist. When I asked him if it was wrong
to sleep with a lot of different girls, he was astonished by the ques
tion. Its great fun to make love, he answered. But when you
find the girl you want to marry, you often have to leave the others
alone or she wont see you.
The young girls were very shy and usually only let the boy
whom they loved best court them; but if, as they grew older, they
did not have a child, they accepted lovers more readily in the hope
of conceiving. Even if these girls were not beautiful or rich, in
ability to have children brought them increasing attention from the
young men not yet ready to marry. A Bontoc man did not marry
a woman until she was with child, but a girl might choose any of
her current lovers as a husband when she conceived. If she was
sterile, she had many lovers and became a sort of educational insti
tution. Usually when these women tired of being bachelor girls,
they kept house for a man who could not find himself a younger
girl to bear him children.
You might ask a girl if you could see her in her olog> or she might
invite you to visit her; or, if the girl you wanted to see would not
invite you, you could take a little firewood or some boiled eggs
or tobacco to the olog and just visit nobody in particular. There
was usually an olog in each ato and two or three atos in each village,
and you could go to the neighboring villages if you liked.
Some of the higher-caste Bontocs arranged engagements for
their daughters almost at birth, but if a girl was willing to lose her
caste she could accept attentions from anyone she liked. She could
sleep with the other boys first and marry her fiance later, if he
did not object.
Apparently venereal disease was unknown in the subprovince of
Bontoc, outside of the city of Bontoc. Although divorce was easy,
the couples, once married, usually remained together. From what
I could gather, adultery was virtually unknown, and it was the
only crime outside of murder for which a man could kill another
man.
l8 o
The blood feud was discouraged by the ato council, even in these
extreme cases. The councilors tried to persuade the offended
parties or their kinsmen to accept a fine, rather than to perpetrate
a blood feud.
When we arrived back at Tajos clubhouse it was after four in
the morning, and he informed me that we would have to hurry
over to his house for breakfast. It was still dark, but his father had
already been up for half an hour and had the breakfast well under
way. Soon a younger sister arrived from her olog, the mother
crawled out of her sleeping box at the back of the house, and we
sat down to breakfast on the earthen floor. The light was still
poor, and we ate with the help of a blazing pine knot which rested
on a flat rock.
There were bowls of steaming rice, which we ate with our
fingers, and boiled eggs containing partly developed chicks. I had
eaten these eggs both in the Lowlands and at Bontoc and was be
ginning to like them. Their complex flavor made them much more
interesting than fresh eggs. We finished the breakfast with millet
gruel sweetened by cubes of sugar-cane pith. Neither tea nor
coffee was served.
When the sun came up at six oclock, the family had been off
to work in the fields for half an hour. I went back to Tajos club,
intending to sleep until noon, but it seemed I had just closed my
eyes when I woke with a start. The villagers were running in all
directions, shouting Cochon! and the air was full of bustle and
excitement. I was certain we were being attacked by a head-hunt
ing expedition until Tajo appeared.
Come, he said. Theres a locust storm in the next hollow, and
we must gather in a supply of them.
Each of the villagers was armed with a large funnel-shaped net,
and carried on his back a rattan basket which resembled a large beer
bottle. We ran up to the top of a small ridge, went along it for
a quarter of a mile, and saw the swarm of locusts straight ahead,
traveling through a ravine. Judging by their noise, it would have
been more accurate to speak of a blizzard of locusts. The villagers,
young and old, were dashing into the waves of pelting insects,
swirling their nets in a whirling motion, and then stuffing the catch
into the necks of their bottlelike baskets, plugging up the bottle
BONTOC
I8I
with its rattan cover, then swirling the net again, screaming and
laughing excitedly all the while.
Tajo had his basket full in half an hour, and when we reached
the village again he emptied the locusts into a big earthen jar and
went for another load.-The women and children contented them
selves with a basket or two, but he and some of the other men
followed the locusts until sunset. I went to sleep, and when I woke
in the afternoon, everyone in town was boiling locusts and drying
them in the sun. When they were crisp they would be ground with
uncooked rice and set aside in jars to make a special dish (pinnatat).
In the excitement of pursuing the locusts over the rough stones,
one of the boys had bruised his knee. He came limping into town
in late afternoon, and when Tajo returned, he told me that the
boy was receiving the ministrations of a Bontoc healing priestess
(insupak). I went along to see the ceremony. The priestess sat
rubbing the boys knee. At first I thought she was in a trance, be
cause she was retching and spitting out saliva as she half mumbled,
half sang, her prayers. Apparently the retching motions were a
conscious device which she employed to build up a sort of suc
tion, which she believed would pull the offending anito out of the
lads knee. She kept telling it to come out, to go away, to stop
hurting her patient. After awhile the boy said his knee was easier,
but I was curious to know if the priestess had stronger medicine.
Tajo said that she did, and that she was willing to practice it if I
would buy a chicken, a portion of basi, and a bowl of rice. But a
member of the household or the priestess would have to go to the
scene of the accident. If the priestess went, I would have to give
her two handfuls of rice as fee. The chicken and wine cost a peso,
and two handfuls of rice twenty centavos. I gave the money to
the priestess.
Tajo and I and a boy who had seen the lad fall went with the
priestess to the spot where the accident had occurred. She picked
up a stick about a yard long, and pointing first north, then east,
then south, then west, called on the sick lads takohis spirit or
soulto come home with us to the feast. She did not know whether
the soul of his leg had been jarred out of his body by the accident,
or whether it had been enticed out by the anito of one of his an
cestors, or by someone who had known him and had died and
wished to play with him.
182
In any event, the soul had got away. The Bontocs said it would
be brought back by this ceremony. Souls, they said, were even
more fond of chicken, basi, and rice than human beings were.
On the way home, as we crossed a creek which ran down
through the bottom of a ravine, the priestess stopped and addressed
another prayer to the tako of her patient: Please come on home
with us where it is warm. You will find it gets very cold here,
around this water.
Tajo said that the spirit was not afraid to cross the stream with
us, but that the souls of sick people were often fascinated by water
and liked to play around in it as children do. When we got back to
the patients house, the priestess killed the chicken by beating it
to death with a small hardwood stick. First she beat its wings, then
its neck, then she banged on its head until it was crushed and the
chicken was dead. Finally she pulled off the feathers, cut up the
body, and boiled it for awhile, and we all ate.
Having financed the ceremony, I was given a leg. The por
tions of the others were smaller. I was told there was still another
ceremony (afat) which could be performed for the lad, but this
ceremony required sacrifices equal to the average yearly wage of
a Bontoc, and the priestess usually did not perform it unless a man
was near death, perhaps in a coma. This ceremony, too, was begun
at the place where the illness or accident had occurred. A large
hog was killed on the spot. A blanket, a bark girdle, a battle-axe,
a spear, a live chicken, and some trinkets were all offered to the
soul of the man who was ill.
Then everyone would return to the house of the sick man, where
the hog would be eaten. The next day the chicken would be killed,
and the priestess would recite a prayer claiming that the sick per
son was well, asking for an abundant harvest, and requesting that
the spirit of the head-axe guard the door and that a spiritual broom
of palay straw sweep away any words of black magic which had
been said against the person who was ill.
This grand ceremony had never been known to fail, but there
was a catch to it. Unless the spirits told the healer the patient would
get well, no ceremony was performed. Like the old-woman healers
of the Kalingas, the Bontoc women received their commission for
healing in dreams, and they were often told in dreams what to
prescribe for their patients. This Bontoc healing seemed to fall far
short of the psychotherapy of the Negritos, since in Bontoc the
BONTOC
18 3
offending spirits were simply invited to leave, and the absent

souls asked to return. They were not communicated with, con
verted, and integrated, as the offending Negrito spirits appeared
to be.
In order to get a more complete idea of the Bontocs attitude to
ward the high god, Lumawig, I inquired about their beliefs con
cerning death, and about the prayers which were said at the funeral
feast. They told me that often the person who is ill and about to
die hears the anitos calling him, saying it is better in the mountains.
When death occurs, the body of the deceased is wrapped in a blue
blanket embroidered with white anito figures, and is set in a rude
bamboo chair just inside the door of the house. Feasting and drink
ing begins immediately, and is continued for a length of time de
termined by the wealth and prestige of the deceased. During this
time the old women sit watching, telling the deceased that peo
ple must die and must be placed in the earth. Each member of the
family chants songs, saying how lonely he is and how much he will
miss the deceased.
Before the burial takes place, the group chants: You are dead.
We are here to see you. Weve done all the necessary things and
given you a good burial. Do not come back and call on any of
your relatives and friends. Off and on, the old people chant: We
are old and shall soon follow you.
Before the burial the property of the deceased is divided accord
ing to a rigid custom by which each of the children receives an
equal share of the fathers property.
The relatives also reason with the ghost, pointing out that he
will have no one left on earth to make feasts for him unless he
protects those who are living from other anitos who would kill
them; their prayers tell of the good life in the mountains which
the old men have seen in visions, and which the deceased can enjoy
if he will go there to live and continue to co-operate on feast days
with his living relatives.
After the dead man has been put into his coffin, he is rushed to
the place of burial and covered up as quickly as possible. If a rooster
crows, or a dog barks, or snakes or rats cross the trail before the
burial is complete, it is a bad omen. After the burial, the men who
assisted with it take a ritual bath, return to the house, and have a
ceremony to propitiate the anito.
184
On the following day all the male relatives go to a stream and

fish. That evening they have a fish fry, to which all the ancestral
anitos are invited. The relatives also spend the second night after
the burial at the house of the deceased.
None of the prayers I collected invited the high god to intervene
with the ancestors, as the Kalingan prayers had. But the inpake
the prayer which was said at the marriage feast when the couples
house was finishedwas addressed to Lumawig. He was asked by
one of the priests of the ato council to accept the union of these
two of his children, to help them to be prosperous, to keep their
animals fertile and large, to make the rice yield heavy, to give them
large beans, and to help them to dwell together in harmony.
I was especially interested in this ceremony because central
among the sacrifices which the priest offered to Lumawig was
my old friend the egg. But now it was the sacrificial symbol of
the perpetuation and growth of society.
Lumawig was also honored in the act of taking heads, since it
was he who had introduced the practice, during his stay on earth.
He had led an expedition against a neighboring village, and taking
the head of one of the enemy, he had said that men would always
take heads because he had taken this one.
The old men also told me a story about the moon, a story which,
in their minds, supported headhunting. The moon was making a
pot one day when the suns child came around to watch. The
paddle with which she was moulding the pot slipped and cut off
the childs head. The sun placed it back on, and said something
about men taking heads because the moon had cut off his sons
head. To me, however, it seemed that what had made head-hunting
so important was the festival which taking a head initiated. When
the head was brought back to the ato, it was hung for a day in the
stone courtyard of the fawi, in a conical basket. A dog or a pig
was killed and eaten at the first days ceremony. The second day,
the head was taken to the river and washed, and the jawbone was
removed for a gansa handle. In the evening the head was buried
under the stone floor of the fawi to initiate a month of celebration,
during which carabaos, dogs, hogs, and chickens were sacrificed
and eaten, and the men did no work except what was absolutely
necessary.
After the head had been buried for three years, it was dug up,
cleaned, and again hung in the fawiy with others dug up for the
BONTOC
185
occasion. After a one-day ceremony it was reburied, this time for

an indefinite period.
All the men in the ato shared in the victory, had a chance to
boast to each other and to the men of the other atos> and had the
record of the event tattooed upon their skin.
The most common answer when I asked the Bontocs, Whats
the best thing thats happened to you? was the same as it had
been among the Kalingasthe attending of a feast ceremony.
When they were asked to name the best thing that had happened
before that, they often mentioned earlier ceremonies; they refused
to leave the subject of feasts.
But the most direct connection between head-hunting and the
high god appeared in their description of the fate of the spirit of the
man who had lost his head. The spirit obtained a head of fire and
went to the sky world (chayya). The anito or ghost of the be
headed man, who lived in the sky world where Lumawig resided,
was called a pinteng. So far as I could learn there was no other way
of getting to chayya. When anyone was inspired to take a head, it
was the pinteng who gave him the impulse to kill. It was as though
they wished to keep recruiting new members for their heavenly fra
ternity. But there was a note of morality in the Bontoc attitude
toward head-taking which had been completely lacking among
the Ilongots, and which I had not heard stressed among the Kal
ingas. The heavenly associates of Lumawig did not approve of the
taking of the heads of women and babies. It seemed inconsistent
that they should inspire all murder and then disapprove of the
murder of women and children once it had occurred, but the
pinteng were credited with punishing the murderers of women and
children, whereas they completely approved the taking of mens
heads in a fair fight, or at least in a fight in which the attackers
risked their own lives.
The Bontocs did not expect to be either helped or punished by
their high god under ordinary circumstances. Like Tolandian,
Lumawig had created the world and society, put it together, and
left it to shift for itself unless the earth beings got him into such
a rage that he did not know what he was doing. Then he would
not selectively punish the beings who had made him angry, but
was likely to destroy everything. As long as the Bontocs had a
ceremony each new moon and observed a holy day two or three
times each month, he was satisfied. He had played a much more
186
direct part in the building of the culture than had Tolandian, even
materializing as a human being and living among them. He had
sent his wife Fukan and her two sons to the downstream world in
a coffin, setting on the coffin a rooster and a dog before he floated
it down the River Chio.
The two groves of trees near Bontoc where the monthly cere
monies were held, were thought to have sprung from the bodies
of the two sons of Lumawig, who were treacherously killed on
their way back to Bontoc after they had been sent to the down
stream world by their angry father.
Moving from the Negrito, who had no agriculture and raised
no animals for food, to the Ilongots with their shifting agriculture,
to the Bontocs, where kinship groups had learned to live together
so well that blood ties were melting into political relationships and
the blood feud was giving way to fines and punishments, I had
noticed a steady growth in the interest in private ownership and
private enterprise. However, the spirit of co-operation, which had
impressed me so among the Negritos, was not lost in Bontoc so
ciety. All of the technology involving the building of rice terraces,
the fertilization and cultivation of the land, irrigation, house build
ing, and the caring for and slaughtering of animals, was interwoven
with ceremonies which required the co-operation of kinsmen, in
laws, and perhaps ato members.
Each ceremony was accompanied by a feast, by drumming and
singing, and by prayers. My fathers old dictum that where work
is concerned one boy is a boy, two boys are a boy and a half, and
three boys no boy at all, was contradicted on every hand, mak
ing me suspect that the West had forgotten that work could also
be fun if it was done in the spirit of festivity, and that we have
become too lazy to motivate work and learning in a way which
makes it interesting to the child.
What also astonished me was the sharp contrast between the
work periods and the leisure periods of the Bontocs. The cere
monies which directed their work, requiring that every person act
as though he were a cogwheel in a great machine, did not intrude
themselves into the leisure periods of the children. At night and
on the holy days which the old men declared two or three times
a month the children were left alone and allowed opportunities for
spontaneous activities and association among themselves.
BONTOC
187
The clubs in which the unmarried members of the society lived

were as free from domination by the past and by the elders as the
workaday world was full of it. Here the children could choose
who would be their friends, could talk and amuse themselves all
night if they wished, and could play at being old and responsible,
or at being infants.
A tree, a rock, a spring, might have a spirit in itthe godancestor or the anito of a human bein now inhabited a feature of
the physical environment. But not all rocks and trees were thus
animated. The souls of Lumawigs children were thought to ani
mate the sacred groves of trees near Bontoc. The children of the
sun were believed to dwell inside of hot mineral springs and
volcano craters.
There were also some animals which were thought to have
human souls or to have sprung, at some point in the past, from
human beings. The rice bird (tilin), the serpent eagle (coling),
and the monkey (caag), were supposed to have been created when
various children felt rejected ana unappreciated, or too severely
or harshly treated. Two young men quarreled and lost their human
forms, one becoming finias, the giant lizard, the other cay yang, the
crow. There was a snake (owag) which attended a funeral and
behaved so well that it became obvious that he, or one of his pro
genitors, had been animated by a human soul.
A selfish mother who gave her two sons only the food of pigs
and dogs and yet criticized them and devaluated the wood they
brought her, caused one of the sons to throw down his bones from
a tree in which he was standing. Where he had been standing, there
now appeared a serpent eagle, who said to the other brother, Take
these bones to our mother for her wood, and tell her that she only
wanted my bones in the first place, and that now she can eat her
own pig food and gather her own wood.
The two sons of another family were given no meat to eat and
yet were asked to work all day protecting the rice crop from the
inroads of birds and animals. At last, feeling that he was starving,
one said, I think Ill be caag Hair grew on his arms, then all over
his body, and he took to the jungle. The other boy was soon hairy
too, but he went home, told his father, and then ran out of the
house to the mountains and climbed a tree. The father followed,
calling him, but the monkey jumped from the tree, struck out
188
at him with his arms, and roared Ha! Ha! The father returned
home and soon the mountains were full of monkeys.
A little girl was transmuted to tilin, the rice bird. She kept
bothering her mother for motingraw riceand was scolded and
told she should not talk so much. When the mother finished pound
ing the rice and went for water, the child, reaching for the rice,
upset the large basket and was caught underneath it. When the
mother lifted up the basket, a little brown bird flew out, singing,
Kingnik, Kingnik. Good-by, Mother. You would not give me
moting?'
All snakes were believed to have souls, and the Bontocs told
me that since snakes know the bad anitos on every trail, its best
to be friendly with them. If you are in danger, a snake will crawl
across your trail and you should pause awhile and let the danger
get out of your way. If another crosses when you resume your
journey, you should pause still longer. If a third one crosses, you
should turn back and give up your project altogether, or at least
wait for a better day.
The Bontocs had many other omens, and they were very im
portant to them. The seeing of omens was mentioned most often
in answer to the fear question of the Emotional Response Test, and
dreams about omens were the most frequently mentioned of the
fearful dreams. This was partly due to the fact that almost any
fearful thing that happened to a Bontoc was regarded as an omen.
Every snake he saw, and every snake dream, was an omen. Every
crow he saw, every dream of big black birds, every dream of
rats, was regarded as an omen. Falling stones and landslides were
omens. The crumbling beneath ones feet of even a little fringe of
earth seemed as important, and aroused as much fear, as an av
alanche. A small reddish-brown bird, ichur, inspired as much con
fidence or fear as though it were the size of a guardian angel.
Ghosts were also omens. Every dead person or stranger seen in
dreams, every wisp of mist and phosphorescent stump, every un
identifiable sound or echo, every shiver, or flush, or inner pain, was
an anito, a ghost, who was trying either to destroy or to warn.
Anitos were most likely to attack you when you were alone.
Whenever your scalp crawled, your mouth got dry or your skin
clammy, or you felt a shiver in your spine, you could be sure anitos
were near.
I suspected that the girls of the olog talked of ghosts to dis
BONTOG
189
courage their lovers from leaving before dawn. Certainly they

had an inexhaustible supply of ghost stories, all of which were said
to be drawn from their own experience and that of their friends.
Often they were corroborated by a number of witnesses, and the
documentation could only have been improved by photographic
films and sound recorders.
One night a group of boys arrived from a neighboring town. I
could hear their bare feet on the trail as they approached, and
their heavy breathing as they reached the door. They reported see
ing the figure of a girl rushing along the trail to meet them. They
had recognized her; she lived in the clump of trees below the trail.
But they had not seen the girl herselfthe figure had a phosphores
cent glow and traveled.with a sweep, instead of with jiggly steps.
When she was face to face with them, her hands caught fire and
she disappeared like a comet toward the mountain. Everyone ac
cepted the fact that the real girl had not long to live. They knew
she would die because they had seen the ghosts of other people
who left their bodies at night to visit the anitos in the mountains
just before they died. Soon a rock would roll on her, or she would
be hit by a falling tree, or caught in a whirlpool, or she would fall
from a rice terrace, or develop pneumonia. The boy who had
planned to leave the group and visit her did not do so. He was
already mourning her loss.
The next week two brothers coming down from a camote patch
felt themselves grow faint and unable to move, and distinctly
heard the war cry of the Bontocs and the war cry of the men of
Berlig, their traditional enemy. Then they saw two fighting groups
come together. The fighters rushed around, past, and over the
boys. Then they realized that the raiding parties were only the
anitos of the men of Bontoc and of Berlig, and that they had only
the quality of coldness and the smell of dankness, with no other
force or content. Even the blood that flowed was a ghostly red,
like the color of sunset. The battle passed over them along the
trail, and they were free to go. All of them thought it was a great
portent, but nobody knew what it meant. Certainly the ghosts
had come along to hear the story, if a dank smell, a freezing wind,
and creeping skin were any evidence of their presence.
I had heard ghost stories before, and tales of supernatural things
from the old Mormon pioneers, but never had I met the unnatural
and uncanny at such close range as I did in the Bontoc ologs.
190
When I was ready to leave the village of Tapon, Tajos father

made me a short spear, which I could use as a sort of handle for
my pack, and which he said would protect me from the anitos as
I went over the mountains to Banaue. It had a half-dozen barbs on
each side. Anitos were particularly afraid of the barbs on this
type of spear, and would be less likely to make me lose my way
or to push me from a cliff or a rice terrace along the trail if I car
ried one. On the morning of my departure, Tajos father also killed
a chicken and said a special prayer to his ancestors, who inhabited
the mountains between the Bontoc and the Ifugao country, asking
them to make my pack lighter, to keep the trail firm, and to see
to it that my way was easy and safe.
SIXTEEN
Journey into Ifugao
\ A / aving good-by to Taj o who

accompanied me to the main road, I started over the divide that
separates the Bontoc territory from Ifugao. After walking for
about two hours up the steep grade I was astonished to hear
a motor behind me. There had probably not been another on that
road for weeks. It was a Ford touring car. The back seat was full
of five-gallon tins of gasoline. The driver, a Filipino in a khaki
suit, pulled up beside me and asked where I was going. Ifugao,
I replied shortly, anticipating his offer to take me across the moun
tain and not wishing to admit that I could not afford to ride.
I am going that way too, he said. Ill take you over for ten
pesos. It would cost you twenty-five if you hired a car. I thanked
him and said that I preferred to walk.
Ill take you for five pesos, he persisted.
Food alone had cost me over a peso a day among the Bontocs,
and I had been told that it was equally expensive in Ifugao. I would
have to stay there at least six weeks to get a statistically valid sample
of test results, so I had decided not to spend a centavo for trans
portation until I was ready to go back to Manila. Since my plan of
191
192
going back along the central mountain range had now been aban
doned, my entire remaining capital of eighty-three pesos would be
barely enough to get me back to Manila.
No, I replied firmly. Im going to walk.
Have you had lunch?
Yes.
Not at all taken aback, he produced a flask. I can see you havent
had a drink, he said, passing the bottle to me. Youd better ride
up to the top of the hill with me, at least, he went on. I have
been driving alone all day.
Since the bottle was almost full, I accepted his hospitality. I
got into the car and launched out into what proved to be an eighthour nightmare. Julio Santiago, the driver, was such a storehouse
of information that I simply could not stop talking to him, and
he was one of those friendly people who must always look you in
the eye as he speaks. I could not tell whether he was driving from
the road he saw reflected in my own eyes, or whether he had
been over this Bontoc trail so often that he could have driven it
with his eyes shut, from the feel of the ground under the wheels.
He had the kind of lean, wiry physique that looks grown-up at
seventeen and does not age noticeably after that. He appeared to be
in his late twenties, but I discovered that he must have been a great
deal older than that.
When the Americans moved into Bontoc in 1900, Julio was al
ready five or six years old. His people were Iloko, from the village
of Bokai. His family had gone to Bontoc with Dr. Truman K.
Hunt, the American who first set up a civil government there, to
take advantage of the law and order established by Americans, and
had set up a merchandising business. Julio clearly remembered Dr.
Hunt and Ernest Jenks, who had lived in Bontoc in 1905 and had
written a report on the Bontocs for the Bureau of Ethnology.
At about seventeen Julio had become a guide and bearer, helping
to carry the luggage of American teachers and officials and of the
Filipino constabulary through the steep, roadless mountains. When
roads were built throughout the mountain province, he became a
chauffeur. He had worked with United States Army officers and
doctors, and with Dr. H. Otley Beyer, and he had taken the judges
of the local courts from district to district.
Julios accounts of the lives and policies of these American pio
neers in Mountain Province changed the feeling I had had about
JOURNEY INTO IFUGAO
193
Americans as colonizers. When I was in Manila I had heard, with
disgust, of American clubs to which no Filipinos were admitted and
of other practices which smacked of a master-race outlook.
But the doctors, Army officials, and educators of whom Julio
told me had obviously had an almost religious attitude toward
democracy. With Julio, at least, they had left the impression that
Americans were tough, fearless, fair, and just, and that there was
not enough money on the earth to buy the slightest favor from
them in the courts or in politics.
One of Julios first memories was of four hundred Bontoc war
riors who had been persuaded by the insurrectionists to take a three
weeks march to Manila, equipped with spears and head axes, to
conquer the United States Army. At the second volley of shots
from the Yankees, they turned on their heels and ran all the way
back to Bontoc, never again to question American power or
authority.
As a young man Julio had noticed the change which the intro
duction of guns brought about in the institution of head-hunting.
The old practice of taking a single head in revenge abruptly disap
peared. The guns enabled people to take a dozen heads as easily as
before they had taken one. In revenge it was equally easy to wipe
out a village. He told me of a conflict between Banaue and the
down-river districts in which just that had happened, in defiance
of the newly established American authority. The down-river peo
ple had come with seven guns to attack Banaue, but the Banaue
men had thirty guns. After wiping out the whole raiding party,
they had gone on to the village from which the raiders came, and
wiped it out as well.
Julio told me of the great native leaders who had arisen to
champion the new way of life which the Americans were introduc
ing. One of these, a man from Berlig of mixed Ifugao-Bontoc
parentage, who had risen to the status of a noble, had been killed
by a member of an enemy group to settle a feud which had been
raging before the advent of the Americans. The noble was offered
a betel nuta token of friendshipon arriving at the village. But
his host let it fall from his hand as he offered it. Then, as the noble
man politely stooped to pick it upin the democratic American
waythe host struck off his head.
In this territory, if anyone ever drops something as he is hand
ing it to you, do not stoop to pick it up, Julio said. He glanced at
I94
the bulge in my pocket made by my ammonia pistol. They know

here that Americans carry firearms. They know that a man who is a
good shot can kill a half-dozen men even when he is wounded with
a spear thrust. But at close range, if your back is bent and your
eyes are on the ground, the biggest coward in Ifugao is not afraid
to snip off your head.1
Julio stopped on a spur which commanded a superb view, and
we again took a swig at the bottle. Since he had been looking at
me most of the time instead of at the road, I was especially worried
about his drinking. I took one long draught and emptied the bottle.
The great green mountain took on a soft, hazy quality, and I got
the feeling that the car would travel through the air as well as it
did upon the road.
Julios intense dramatic way of speaking, and his gleaming eyes,
transported me to the scenes he was describing. Five thousand
Ifugao in full war regalia, with their plumes and shields, their jaw
bone-handled gansasy their drums and bamboo clappers, paraded
before me at the funeral feast of Bahatan. Bahatans body, with the
head sewn on to it, lay in a circular temple with walls of reed in
a clearing on the top of a rounded hill. The priests chanted their
prayers, and to determine when the revenge expedition should be
undertaken, watched the sacrifices to see if the omen bird (pitpit)
preferred the sacrifice dishes of pork, of chicken, or of rice. The
noble, commoner, and serf moved about, each in his orbit. The
body was carried to the tomb and buried, each priest-kinsman
saying the proper thing, calling on the proper deified ancestors.
After the funeral, ceremonies took place in the houses of the
nobles. The men and the women, facing each other across the fires,
criticized each other in song, then sang about love and war, then
broke the lines in which they were ranged, and in the true spirit of
carnival acted out the love of which they had sung.
Do you know, Julio said, as we topped the divide and paused
to glance at the mountains rising tier on tier out into the province
of Isabela and toward the seacoast, Id have paid you ten pesos to
go into Ifugao with me. I dont like whiskey and only brought it
to steady my nerves. These people are head-hunters, you know.
He glanced at my unclipped fairish hair. No doubt he was thinking
that no head-hunter would take an ordinary black Filipino head
when he could have a prize like mine.
JOURNEY INTO IFUGAO
195
I am going to stay in the house of the Presidente at Ifugao,

he went on. There will be a feast tonight. They invited me weeks
ago, and when I accepted, I thought Id take a police officer with
me, but Ill have no time to get one tonight. Now, Id feel a lot
safer if youd come along to the feast. The boys will be drinking
rice wine and you can never tell what they will do when theyve
had a drink. I was watching the billowy treetops below the narrow
dugway and paying him scant attention.
The girl I sleep with when Im in Ifugao, he concluded, feast
ing his eyes on my sun-bleached hair, has a younger sister. Im
quite sure I can get her for you if youll come along. Polygamy is
the rule in Ifugao, and it doesnt matter if you have a wife else
where.
We left the divide and started down the canyon of Ifugao. As
we rounded the bends, I wished that I had drunk all the whiskey.
Now it was raining and the road was not visible fifty yards ahead.
I wondered how such a reckless man could be afraid of head
hunters.
Now he was telling me about the religion of Ifugao. It seemed
most appropriate to be speaking of gods at a time like this, when
skidding an extra foot on any turn would bring us face to face
with them. Apparently, in Ifugao it did not matter whether we
skidded to death up, down, or to the side. The gods were every
wherein the sky world, in both the upstream and the downstream
regions of the middle earth world, and in the underworld. There
was even a subbasement, where you would find the gods if you
happened to go over an extra big cliff and fall through both the
land and the underworld.
The four layers of the universe were inhabited not only by gods
but by their wives and children, each with his rank and status,
arranged like the Ifugao society. Each had appetites, likes and dis
likes, and a predilection for flattery. The favor of each could be
bought, or wheedled, or cajoled. All came down daily and pos
sessed the Ifugao priests in their ceremonies, spoke through the
lips of the Ifugao, drank through their stomachs, and danced with
their legs. Each of them was jealous of the others, and of the power,
luck, success, and wealth of mortals. Their minds were full of
schemes, plots, and intrigues.
It was obvious, as Julio talked to me, that the Ifugao did not
have the freedom and spontaneity of the Negritos, the Ilongots, or
196
the Kalingas, and that they lacked the stability and philosophic
maturity of the Kankanai and the Bontocs. It was as though
Tolandian had, like Brahma, split up into layers of gods, ancestors,
and men, and was no longer in any way supreme. But no Buddha
had arrived to condense and simplify the endless ceremonies which
the gods required of the Ifugao as he carried on his agriculture,
his animal husbandry, his manufacturing, and his social intercourse.
SEVENTEEN
The Rice Terraces of Ifugao
I n the late afternoon we slid to

a standstill beside the large white stucco schoolhouse at Ifugao.
Julio switched off the ignition and took a small satchel from the
back seat, and we set out for the house of the Presidente. Our path
led across a wooden footbridge which spanned a small river. Be
fore us in the fog and rain there loomed a stone wall with a ditch
at its base. The path turned sharply left and followed the bank of
the ditch for a hundred yards. The wall was some thirty feet high,
with neatly clipped grass between the large stones. Halfway along,
a little waterfall cascaded down into the ditch from the top of the
wall. Julio crossed a large, flat stone slab over the ditch and disap
peared in the mist.
I had fallen a little behind at the waterfall. When I reached the
rock bridge, I was completely it &loss to know where he had gone,
since the trail ended abruptly against the wall. The bridge looked
wet and slippery. Julio! I called out, wondering if he had fallen
into the ditch. His answering voice came down from the sky.
Looking up, I saw him almost at the top of the wall. He seemed
to cling to its smooth surface.
*97
I98
How the hell did you get up there? I called out.

Just climb up the rocks which stick out from the wall, he
answered. Youll see them when you cross the ditch.
I walked across the flat rock, and there, leading up like the rungs
of a one-sided ladder, was a series of variously shaped protruding
stones. Julio waited for me at the top. Its not nearly as difficult
to climb as it looks, he said. But you will feel safer if you take
off your shoes. The steps never cave in. Hundreds of people travel
them each day, and once you feel your bare feet on the rocks, youll
have no fear of slipping.
I took off my boots. The rocks did feel much more solid then,
and the depressions, worn where many feet had fallen before, gave
assurance that the ascent was not impossible. Keep looking up
and in toward the wall, said Julio, when Id climbed half the dis
tance, and you wont even notice that there arent two sides to
the staircase.
The feeling of relief I had on finishing the climb was short
lived, for now the trail continued along the top of the wall, with
a thirty-foot drop to the left, and a pool of water to the right.
Look into the terrace paddy and not down at the ditch, said
Julio, as we started along. Step on the boulders and not on the
grass, and you wont lose your footing. Youll soon get used to
the trail. If you slip, dont forget to fall up the mountain into the
pool. The water isnt deep.
The rain had abated somewhat, but the visibility was still poor.
We climbed one perpendicular terrace wall after another. All the
walls were built of the same kind of uncut boulders, and down
each came a tiny waterfall like the first. Always the trail followed
the tops of the walls, forming a narrow slippery path, with the
muddy water of the terrace on one side and sheer space on the
other. The mist which had hidden the top of the canyon when
we began to climb soon filled the bottom, and we were clinging
to the side of a terraced world without beginning or end. As we
climbed, the walls loomed higher and higher. Once or twice Julio
had to ask his w^y. I did not blame him for wanting moral support
on such a journey.
But his conversation as we walked along bolstered up neither his
morale nor mine. The first man who directed us along the way
made him think of a man condemned to ten years at hard labor by
one of the judges he had recently chauffeured. Three of the man s
THE RICE TERRACES OF IFUGAO
199
children had been chopped to pieces by one of his fellow tribes

men, who had run amuck. When the man found his children dead,
he had taken his dog and tracked down the murderer, only to find
that others had robbed him of his revenge by killing him before
he arrived. There was nothing left for him but to kill the sisters of
the dead man whom he found weeping over their brothers corpse.
The judge simply had to lock him up, Julio said, because
he had killed only two of the murderers sisters, and he had lost
three children, so he would not have stopped until he killed an
other member of the murderers family. All the Americans say that
Ifugao is the worst place in the Philippines for running amuck.
Down in the Moro country, men will bind up their bodies, so they
wont bleed to death quickly if theyre wounded, and then go out
after Christians, with no regard for their own life. But in Ifugao,
they kill everybody when they run amuck, even members of their
own family.
I had not heard of a Negrito or an Ilongot running amuck. I had
never heard it even mentioned among the Kankanai or the Bontocs,
and I suspected that Julios preoccupation with the subject was
due to a case or two in which he had been involved as the judges
chauffeur. But as we went along, I was soon disabused of this idea.
Twenty years as a guide and bearer in the mountains of Ifugao had
furnished him with accounts of amuck for every terrace we were
traversing, until I expected every innocent passerby we met to
stab Julio and push me off the terrace.
The stories Julio told me as we threaded our way along the
slippery walls, every boulder of which seemed like the trigger of
a death trap, were more like the bad dreams I had collected than
like stories I could have made up myself.
I sighed with relief when at last we arrived at a little clump of
houses, each standing on four wooden pillars and roofed with
thick, overhanging thatch which made it look like a great toad
stool. The canyon was almost blotted out in darkness as we climbed
the ladder of the house belonging to the Presidente of Banaue. In
side the single room a dozen people reclined or squatted on the floor
of hewn planks worn smooth by naked human bodies. The women
were lined up on one side of the central fireplace. They wore the
same type of short skirt that I had seen among the Bontocs, with
no clothing above the waist, and bare legs and feet. The men wore
loincloths. Each mans spear rested against the smoothly worn
200
plank walls of the boatlike dwelling. But the spears were not ac
companied by the head axes which 1 had seen in the Bontoc houses.
Large portions of a pig, killed and cooked for the feast, lay on
leaves in the middle of the floor. The Americans would have
roasted the pig whole, said Julio, but here in Ifugao, before it
is cooked, portions of it must go to the priest who butchers it, to
blood relatives who are not bidden to the feast, or who are unable
to attend, and to the local politicians and the in-laws of the host.
I was ravenous after the long climb. Even the bitter viscera soup
and the musty sour rice wine tasted good. Our host was hospitable
to a fault. I had to admit to myself that the younger sister whom
Julio had mentioned in the carand spoken of as we climbed the
terraces, whenever he thought I was getting discouraged with the
project- was a devilishly attractive girl. But to stay awake after
the wine and huge quantities of food, and the fatigue of climbing,
was more than I could manage. It was warm in the overcrowded
little house, and the air was heavy with the odor of roast pork,
rice wine, and human bodies.
, I could catch only a word here and there of the conversation,
and not a word at all of the songs in the queer religious language,
in which the men and women took turns criticizing each other, as
was their custom in this type of social gathering. Even Julio did
not know the words of the verses well. In their Songs the men
are saying something about the women eating the crabs and snails
they gather at the terraces, rather than bringing them home to
their husbands, he said, when I questioned him about one of the
verses. In answer, the women are singing that the men eat up all
their catch of the delicious fish on the banks of the stream, and do
not share it with the women. He did not know when they would
start singing about love and war, causing the men and women to
break up their lines and intermingle. Knowing the respect that
most primitives have for a sleeping person, I was certain that I
would be left out when the intermingling began, for the monot
onous chants, on top of the food and wine, were acting on me like
a field of poppies. Even the occasional sidelong glances of the
younger sister failed to keep me awake. Julio noticed me drowsing
and suggested that I retire. He said he would bring me the younger
sister later if he could.
The Presidente led me to a near-by bamboo shack which he
201
used for a storeroom. I unrolled my blanket, and lulled by the

steady patter of rain on the roof, was soon asleep.
Later I was awakened by the full moon shining on my face
through the partly open door of the shack. The rain had ceased,
and the clouds, which on our arrival had been low, sodden, and
slate-colored, were now lofty, white, and flocculent. The mys
terious muffled roar in the air, which had formed a background to
the sound of the rain as I climbed the terrace walls, was now clearer.
The terraces were so constructed that the water from each one
overflowed into the one below, making thousands of miniature
waterfalls. The roar had a ghostly quality since it came from every
side at once rather than from one particular spot.
I looked out. In front of the door the muddy water of a minia
ture rice terrace reflected a giant tree full of fireflies, startlingly
bright, like the winking lights of a city. As I looked, the pool
changed into a shadowy silver stairway. The separate steps were
laced together with strips of shiny white ribbon. I had a chilling
sense of unreality until I realized that a cloud had drifted past the
moon, lighting the terraced hillside above and reflecting it in the
pool. Looking more sharply I saw that each of the terrace walls
up the canyon formed a step of the stairway. In the reflection the
giant stairway seemed to go down into the pool until it reached
the edge of the world, ending in clear sky surrounded by clouds.
The waterfalls formed the silver lacing on the terrace walls. At the
bottom of each was a cloud of spraymarking the tangible source
of the roar.
The view was stupendous. For miles up and down the canyon
the terraces rose in endless sweeping curves. I felt impelled to
survey it from above. Scrambling up a zigzag row of protruding
stones, I turned again to look and marvel. From this height a thou
sand terraces were visible below and their glistening surfaces were
even more startling than the stairs above. I scrambled up another
wall and then another. There was a ridge ahead, past which the
hill fell away into a side canyon. I followed the narrow terrace
path of slippery stones. The side canyon was deep and almost cir
cular. Breaking into full view at the point of the ridge, it had a
breath-taking beauty.
There was a weird, crazy, jumbled quality about the scene which
suggested violent emotion, as though the mistress of a divine bouH
202
doir had flung her mirror down from heaven in a rage, to be shat
tered on the earths uneven floor. My sense of time and direction
was vague as I stumbled across the dappled expanse of subterranean
sky. The thought of the moons mirror crashing into my skull
stunned me, and my breath came in gulps or not at all. I could not
tell if it was fear or ecstasy which bound my ribs.
Suddenly I found myself in a clump of trees like the one in which
the Presidentes house stood. I walked quietly, hoping not to dis
turb the dwellers in the toadstool buildings. The moonlight scene
was like a picture tom from a book of fairy tales. Halfway through
the little cluster of trees and houses I stumbled on a pig. It started
up with a sleepy grunt. From under one of the houses came the yelp
of a startled dog. The next moment the stillness was slit by furious
barking. Pulling the ammonia pistol from my pocket, I retreated
backward down a narrow path, wondering if I should waste my
supply of precious liquid at a ten-foot range, or if the ammonia
would stop him once he had decided to charge me. As I felt for
the trail with my heels, afraid to take my eyes from him, I vainly
tried to quiet him with soft words.
The trail ended abruptly in a low clump of bushes. To my left
was a round sweep of terrace wall which dropped for fifty feet;
to the right there was a tiny pinnacle of rock, up which I scrambled.
I could go no further.
In one of the houses the flicker of a fire, visible through a crack
in the door, was fanned into flame. In a moment, it was burning
brightly. The door opened and a ladder was let down. A naked man
descended. The firelight glinted on the broad steel point of the
spear he carried. Seeing me there at bay on the rock, he walked
warily toward me, carrying his spear in readiness for instant use.
I hid the pistol under the corner of my pocket, fearing that the
sight of it would trigger his spear. He spoke to the dog and its
deafening din ceased. I glanced down the sheer face of the cliff
and then back at him. He was speaking to me in the native dialect.
I answered in English. Neither of us understood a word the other
said, but his voice was friendly, and I tried desperately to conceal
the tension and quaver in my own. There was a moment of silence.
Then, using his spear as a staff, he clambered onto the rock and
sat beside me. Relieved, I slipped the pistol into my pocket.
Fires were being lighted in some of the other huts. I could not
help admiring the lithe, powerful body of the head-hunter, even
203
as I wondered if he was about to transfix me with the spear. I

pulled a pack of cigarettes from my pocket and held it toward him.
He accepted one, and his eyes smiled up at me as I lighted it for
him. A breeze stirred the leaves of the trees into a low murmur.
The dog cocked his head to one side and looked at us inquiringly.
I pointed to the crest of the hill which towered above us, scarcely
lower than the white cloud banks, for which it might easily have
been mistaken. My companion pursed his lips and shook his head
in the direction of the bottom of the canyon.
By turns, we talked and we smoked in silence. Neither under
stood a word the other said, but nevertheless we argued stubbornly
for the virtues of the top and the bottom of the canyon. The terror
which had welled up inside me as I retreated before the dogs flash
ing teeth and as I regarded the gleaming spear point, was chang
ing into a glow of exaltation. But remembering Julios story of
the hero who lost his head as he stooped to pick up the betel nut
which had been offered him as a token of friendship, I leaned in
from the edge of the precipice, determined that I should not alone
fertilize the plot below, if my host should suddenly decide to make
me a sacrifice.
But no fear could long withstand the force of the light filtering
down from the lofty canyons of churning clouds and up from their
bottomless reflections in the pools. The little pinnacle on which
we sat became a world lost in limitless space. Nothing but the rock
and the man beside me had any solidity. All else was expanding
clouds and weaving patterns of dark and shine. At last my com
panion was convinced that I was determined to go on, and com
menced, in pantomime, an unmistakable series of final instructions.
Pointing to the dog, he clamped his hand on the calf of his leg.
My pistol would take care of strange dogs. I nodded knowingly.
Then he seized a twig, and bending it over, placed the butt end
of his spear against it. He was telling me to beware of spear traps
set along the trail for wild pigs. I had seen many of those since I
had first joined the Negritos, and by now considered myself an
expert on them.
I made a sweeping gesture toward my own thigh to convince him
that I understood. Then he walked his fingers down his arm from
his elbow to his wrist, and as he touched the back of his hand, he
allowed it to drop. He was warning me of a pitfall. I was familiar
with those, too; they were not so dangerous as a spear trap, but
204
uncomfortable if you had to spend the night in one, and perhaps

good for a broken leg. I jumped from the rock pinnacle to show
him I knew what would happen if I stepped into such a trap. He
grinned and nodded, and stepping down beside me, led me to
the upper path.
The walls were higher now and the strips of level water nar
rower. The side canyons were precipitous and the trails not as
well worn as those below. I plunged repeatedly into the icy terrace
pools to keep from falling down the man-made cliffs. Even the
earth and hard rock walls had lost their stability in this crazy
diagonal world. The winding terraces writhed on every side, like
snakes of quicksilver, each time I caught a slanting glimpse of them
while staring at the trail.
At last I reached the topmost level and limped up a grassy mound,
sitting down at the very top on a little bald spot where there were
small rocks and debris. The moons power was fading, as though
its effort to drench this leviathan of mans handiwork with silver
had drained its life force. It grew rapidly wan. The stairway, a
specter of its former self except for the white skeleton of falling
water, disappeared. A deathly stillness brooded over the canyon,
and the gray terraced rims became wrinkles on the visage of a
mummy. I could feel the damp chill in the air now that I was no
longer kept warm by the effort of climbing. I shivered in my wet
clothes. Something rough I was sitting on became uncomfortable.
Shifting my position, I noticed that what I had thought to be a stick
was actually a bone. Looking more closely I saw more bones and
bits of dried flesh and hair, partly covered by some sort of matting.
I realized I was sitting on a grave, and found my feet. In the after
noon, Julio had told me that the Ifugao always buried low-caste
members of their own group on a mountaintop when they were
victims of head-hunting. People who had died a natural death were
buried beneath the houses in which they had lived. This grave
must have been dug long ago, before the terraces reached so near
the top.
I stepped down, hoping that no one had seen me at the top of
the knoll. At least, no one could accuse me of the anthropologists
sin of hunting skulls there.
For a moment the world hung in the balance between night and
day. As if in answer to the signal of a birds sleepy chirp, a string of
clouds on the horizon caught fire.
205
The gray of the canyon softened. Other clouds glowed low on

the horizon. The mist on the opposite wall of the canyon separated
into layers, which thinned steadily and were dragged out by the
morning breeze into long, ribbonlike wisps. The shiny rim of the
sun appeared. Its rays lit red patches of ground on the hillside across
the canyon, and picked out countless designs on the sparkling
rocks and grass of the terrace walls. The sun trembled for a mo
ment like a red plate on the green shelf of the distant hill. Muffled
sounds of life burst up from below. The world of Ifugao had
awakened.
I knew I would be looked for at the Presidentes house. With a
last glance at the enchanted canyon, I started down, having no idea
of the route I had taken the night before or of the location of the
house of the Presidente. As I descended, women, naked but for
their bark girdles, appeared on the terraces, clipping the leaves and
grass from the walls with long hooked poles, and trampling them
into the mud of the terraces for fertilizer. They stared at me,
startled, as I passed. Some reached for their skirts when they saw
me coming, or tucked the ends of branches or grass beneath their
girdles, to serve as skirts. Others watched me, legs apart, mouths
open, with an impudent expression on their faces, as if to say, He
who disturbs a lady at her work is worthy of no consideration
whatsoever.
Far down the canyon I met a delegation from the Presidentes
house. They had been scouring the mountainside for me, and were
immensely relieved when I appeared. It would be a great disgrace
to the Presidente if his American guest were to have his head taken.
The return journey took three hours. I was given a very welcome
breakfast, served by the younger sister, who watched me demurely
as I ate. Julio insisted that I was mad. He had found the moon
shining squarely on the blanket where I had been lying when he
returned from the feast. At least that was comforting since it held
out the hope that the madness might be only temporary. As he
guided me across the canyon to the provincial schoolhouse, where
I took leave of him, he told me to what great pains and expense he
had gone to find me a wife for my stay in Ifugao. He kept men
tioning the stupendous figure of twenty-five pesos.
Anyway, he said with a sigh, Ive done all I can. Younger
sister was insulted when she found you gone. The girls gossip in
20 6
their clubs and news of it will spread. Now youll probably have
to content yourself with a bachelors lot while you are in Ifugao.
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name
of the Lord, I said to him consolingly. But he refused to be con
soled. In my behalf he had employed his resources, used his con
tacts and his knowledge of the Ifugao, and spent at least a little
money for the privilege of bringing an uninvited guest to the feast.
He had served me as a guide and a go-between, functions for which
he was in the habit of being well paid.
By all rights I should have paid him twenty-five pesos for his
efforts in my behalf. He explained that just for his successful efforts
in obtaining me a mistress the legitimate fee was much higher
than the figure he was asking, which included paying for me at
the feast, giving the younger sister a present, and wasting half
a day of his time wandering up over the rice terraces to look for
me.
But, Julio, I said. Im not one of those rich Americans youve
been in the habit of serving. Ill need at least fifty pesos while Im
in Ifugao, and another twenty-five to get back to Manila, and I
have no way of getting any money until Im back there.
Then he hit upon a scheme. He could take me back to Manila
in about six weeks, and would consider the twenty-five pesos a
fair payment for the obligations I had already incurred and the
transportation back. If I finished my testing in Ifugao in about
a month, as I planned, I could hike over the mountains to Bokai,
where his mothers people lived, and I could stay with them until
he came along. He would be through with his work up north in
about six weeks and was planning to stop at Bokai anyway on his
way back to Manila. He pulled out a road map. When I was
through testing in the Banaue school I could walk across the moun
tains to Loo. He marked off a route on his map. I was to cross the
canyon at Banaue and pick up the trail to Hapao, following it as
far as Kinga, a distance of about fifteen miles. From Kinga, I
would go down to the Asin River Rest House.
Thats a good days hike, he said. And from the Rest House
you cross the high divide between Mount Abao and Mount
Tabayoc to Loo, a distance of about ten miles, and another hard
days hike. From Loo I could catch a bus to Cervantes, twenty
miles distant. Then I would be forty miles from Bokai, an easy
three-day hike to the North. Theres a good trail all the way,
207
he said. From Cervantes on, the trail follows the Abra River.
You can hike the whole distance in a week. Ive done it myself with
a heavy burden. For a peso you can hire a pony most anywhere
along the way, if you get tired or if the heat becomes too oppres
sive.
I agreed to his plan, and he thought I should pay him the twentyfive pesos on the spot to bind the bargain, but I gave him only ten,
with the promise of the rest when we reached Manila. I could
get back from Bokai by bus for about fifteen, I thought, but the
hard bus seats, and the frequent stops in the Lowland heat, made
the thought of riding with him in the car very attractive, even
though I knew he would look at me instead of the road every mile
of the distance back. He then introduced me to the high-school
principal and took his leave with a promise to pick me up in six
weeks at Bokai Abra.
The Filipino principal of the school received me kindly and
put himself out to help me obtain dreams and tests from his
students. Judging from the test results, I might as well have been
testing in an American or an Hawaiian school. In all of them the
children scored near the American norms. They had the same
tendency to draw men in action and large feet which I had noticed
in all the other mountain groups. Among the Ifugao I again found
participation in feast ceremonies named as the best thing that had
happened. I also found the fear of ghosts very frequent.
A large number of the children had had fearful experiences with
men who had run amuck. Amuck behavior was a runner-up in
their fear dreams, but the man who had run amuck and been killed
was always described as an anito or ghost. Like the Bontoc dreams,
the fear of animals was largely crowded out by the fear of ghosts,
but the dream ghosts of Ifugao were still more violent than those
of Bontoc.
In contrast with the Negrito lack of memory, among the Ifugao
memory seemed to be the supreme function of the mind, apparently
as a result of the practice of learning, almost from birth, genealogies
and details of ritualized procedure. This capacity to remember
things and put them into categories made their scores on the Emo
tional Response Test largely incomparable with those of the other
groups. They appeared to remember an endless number of experi
ences of all types.
208
The best thing that could happen, they thought, would be to

get wealth and power and caste, and more wealth and power. The
worst thing that could happen to a high-caste Ifugao was loss of
his wealth and power. Low-caste Ifugao thought the worst fate
would be hunger. After that, loss of ones kinsmen, then ones own
life, especially at an amucks hand, were considered disasters.
The fear of this insane amuck behavior, which came out in their
recall of incidents, in their dreams, and in their negative fantasies,
was of special interest to me. Certainly, the Ifugao child was given
no assurance that the men who surrounded him would act toward
him constructively, or fairly, or even predictably. The people who
taught him about the gods and who interpreted his dreams gave
him no help in changing the behavior of the images he acquired,
and no assurance that the gods would behave differently from, or
better than, the men who surrounded him.
The attitude of the Ifugao seemed to be feudal in the extreme,
with everyone struggling to become a nobleman and every noble
man struggling to gain altitude by cutting down others, or by
climbing up on them, or through extortion, through intrigue,
through marriage, through magic, through violence, and through
prayer. The gods would help those most who gave the biggest
feasts. After the gods had feasted on the essence, the substance
went to the priests, relatives, and politicians. Like the gods, these
powerful human beings were with you only as long as the gift
which accompanied your request for favor was bigger than the
gift of the others who wished the same favor, or as long as you
could inspire more fear than those who opposed you. When the
Ifugao traveled back in time, they remembered the names, status,
and prowess of people for thirty generations. This brought them
to the first ancestor, Balitok, who with his sister-wife, Bukan, was
the only survivor of the world flood.
All these thirty generations of ancestors had to be approached
and called upon in the proper formal manner. The same was true
if one traveled in space to the sky world or to the underworld, or
if one traveled into social space to learn to do things by oneself and
to co-operate with others. Everywhere one had to learn the rituals
and find his place in the hierarchy of the authorities who passed on
the ritual and the technical knowledge. Man could not be spon
taneous or capricious in any direction unless a ritual or ceremony
required him to. In the past most of the ceremonies which had
209
periodically released the population from all restrictions had been

associated with head-taking.
The amuck type of murder increased the tension of everyone.
Since the Americans had blocked the blood feud but as yet given
the people no philosophy which would help them restore balance
and order, they were often preoccupied with this amuck type of
behavior, which could upset their inner universe much as the
typhoon upset the universe of the Negrito.
It was easy to get information about the religion of the Ifugao.
There w^s a sprinkling of men, now middle-aged, who as adoles
cents and young adults had studied English with Dr. H. Otley
Beyer and Dr. Roy Franklin Barton, who had been educational
directors of the subprovince of Ifugao. There were also Ifugao
who had served as interpreters and assistants to Lieutenant Giles
and Captain Jeff Gallman, and to governors, judges, and officials.
Most of the Ifugao had the encyclopedic minds of college profes
sors. For once, I did not have to ask for information, but found my
self in an avalanche of it.
The Ifugao.had deified almost everything'. Like the Ilongots, the
Kalingas, the Kankanai, and the Bontocs, they thought that illness
and death were caused by supernatural beings, and that these spirits
could be persuaded to leave the body of their patient, or to give
back the soul of their patient, with bribes of pork, chicken, carabao,
rice, and wine. If a direct appeal to the offending spirit failed, the
ancestors might help to restore the missing soul or to banish the
possessing spirit if they were called in and fed, flattered, and cajoled
by the proper authorities.
Among the Ifugao I found neither the healing ceremony of the
Negrito, which assisted the patient to go back in trance to the
origin of the illness in his personal world, and to struggle with and
transform the offending spirit; nor the powerful god of the
Kalingas, who was always being told how powerful he was; nor
the high god of the Kankanai and the Bontocs.
There were forty-odd classes of gods, with an established order
in every class. All of these gods had the power to cause man illness
and bad luck. They could also cause death, but not without the
consent or co-operation of the ancestors. Some of these classes had
no other function than causing illness, so far as I could learn, and
they were named after the type of symptom which they caused.
No one seemed to know exactly how many gods there were, but
210
I was told that Dr. Barton had listed twelve to fifteen hundred of
them when he was studying the Ifugao religion, and that he had
not yet finished compiling the list. To appeal to all these gods when
someone was ill would be impracticable, if not impossibleit
would take many priests many days to accomplish and would be
fantastically expensive. The process of divining what deities were
causing the illness was therefore an important aspect of healing.
The method thought most reliable for this divination was to set
an egg on the blade of a knife, mention the name of a god who
was suspected of causing the illness, and ask the egg to grip the
steel if this god was responsible. If the egg balanced, the sacrifice
was performed to the god named. Balancing the egg on the knife
seemed to require some abnormal power or skill. At least, I could
not do it myself even after a good deal of trying.
The Ifugao had great confidence in this egg method, paying for
this service according to the reputation of the practitioner, which
was gradually built up by the success or failure of the sacrifices he
recommended. The diviners also used this method in locating lost
or stolen property, detecting crimes, and spotting sorcerers re
sponsible for illness and misfortune. The young people called them
detectives.
I heard many stories which credited the egg diviners with super
normal extrasensory powers. In Ifugao every normal male adult
became a priest and some of the women became priestesses or
mediums. But the people believed to be gifted at performing this
special type of divining were few and received very high fees. They
charged all the way from five to twenty-five pesos for a single
seance.
With the coming of the Americans more than twenty years be
fore, Western medicine had been brought to the Ifugao. Not many,
therefore, were in need of my home remedies. The few who did
take my medicines and go into trance at my bidding looked for the
cause of their headaches or stomach-aches, or rheumatic pains, and
found, like the Bontocs and the Kalingas, earlier and earlier inci
dents in which they had been attacked by gods or ancestors for
failing to provide the proper sacrifices.
Speaking through the trance, the ancestors agreed to stop bother
ing the subjects if I would furnish the pigs and chickens for a
suitable feast, but due to my rapidly dwindling supply of money,
this was out of the question. It was evident that it would be neces
2I I
sary to work through many layers of socially acquired images be

fore they could respond to psychotherapy as the Negritos did.
After three weeks of testing in the school and the vicinity of
Banaue, I mailed most of the material I had collected to Hartendorp, to lighten my pack. I kept only the data on the Emotional
Response Test to study on the way, and set off for Bokai on the
trail which Julio had marked for me, staying where night found
me in the small communities perched on the tree-clad hill crests
above the endless terraces.
I traveled at a leisurely pace, as I had an invitation to stop at
Hungduan, a village near Kinga, where some of the students at the
high school lived. One of their number, a boy called Chirp (be
cause he had been named after a cicada), was the son of a famous
old priest. Chirp said his father was too old to work, and being
very bored with life, would welcome the opportunity of telling
me about the ceremonies and ideas of the Ifugao, without charging
me the usual informants fee. If I arrived there on a Friday night,
I could spend ten days talking to the old man and still get to Bokai
at the appointed time.
EIGHTEEN
The Rice-Increasing Ceremony
JLHE second day out of Banaue,

when I arrived at Hapao en route to Hungduan, I was invited
to participate in a rice-increasing festival. All night long the men
of the village sat in a circle around a dish of rice on the floor of
one of their toadstool houses, chanting rituals in unison and drink
ing sour rice wine. At dawn, in a drizzle of rain, the animals for
the days feast were sacrificed, and the blood was collected in
wooden bowls. The local old men and a famed priest were in
charge, and from time to time, one, or the lot of them, delayed
the procedure with tedious chanting. The chief priest wore an
old-fashioned sunbonnet, to the front of which a green china parrot
had been sewn. I suspected that the bonnet had been taken along
with the head of some missionarys wife or Lowland woman. When
the priest was excited, the parrot bobbed up and down, adding
emphasis to his falsetto voice.
The proceedings opened with the solemn bleeding of a number
of chickens. Then a pig was thrown on its back, secured by cords
extending from its legs to stakes driven into the ground, and
decorated with wreaths. The old priest led a procession of villagers
212
THE RICE-INCREASING CEREMONY
213
round it again and again, chanting as they went. Now and then they
took rice paste from a bowl and dabbed it on the pig. At last they
made a small incision at the lower extremity of the ribs and thrust
a bamboo stick into the animals lungs and heart. After collecting
the blood in vessels, the old men spent some time examining the
bile sac and arguing about what predictions could be made from
it. These were determined by the size, shape, and color of the
sac. Some of the blood was used to douse stones and objects which
had been arranged in carved troughs, and the rest was boiled in
clay pots under the houses. The pigs hair was burned off with
long wisps of grass, and a ceremonial division was made of the
meat. The slaughter of two more pigs followed, with similar cere
monies. A great deal of bickering accompanied the division of the
carcasses. The disputes were settled in due course by Old Green
Parrot, who took a lions share for himself.
Since dawn, a half-dozen old men had sat apart under one of
the houses. A gaunt old water buffalo stood before them in the rain,
while the old men maintained a steady, mournful chant. Gradually,
as the other animals were sacrificed, more men joined this group.
The dreary dirge they were chanting grew in volume.
The scene was bleak. Dejectedly the buffalo stood in the driz
zling rain, swaybacked, with a pathetic head that sagged under
the weight of its enormous horns. Since daylight it had slowly
chewed its cud, waiting patiently in the midst of the feverish human
activity.
At last Old Green Parrot approached the buffalo and harangued
it with great vehemence. Then a huge wooden bowl was placed on
the ground beneath the buffalos neck. All the men lined up, hold
ing their long knives in readiness for a signal. With a quick sweep
ing blow, one man brought his knife down on the back of the ani
mals neck. The head sagged forward. The buffalo kicked con
vulsively with its hind legs, while remaining on its knees as though
to accommodate the natives. After a few tense minutes, the squirt
ing blood lost its force, ran lazily for awhile, and began to drip.
The china parrot hovered over it for a moment, as the priest moved
the bowl and gave a signal. The waiting crowd charged upon the
body of the still-quivering beast.
Each man will get whatever he can cut loose, a little boy ex
plained to me.
The men hacked frantically. In a short time the buffalo was
214
a mangled mass of red flesh. Still they tore at the meat, getting in
each others way, shouting, jostling, cutting each other with their
razor-edged knives. At last the constabulary officer, fearing that
someone would take advantage of the confusion to settle an old
score with a fellow tribesman, said that the remainder of the car
cass would have to be divided in some other way. The men fell
back and the green parrot again dominated the scene, but now it
had a red bonnet.
Many fires were burning, with pots simmering above them. The
men drank freely from great jugs of the vile-tasting but potent sour
rice wine. Wounds received in the fray over the buffalo were
washed. Drums and brass gongs were brought out, and the crowd
congregated in knots beneath the houses, singing, talking, and eat
ing. Young girls in bright-red skirts and heavy beads formed cir
cles and did a simple dance, pulling their feet along by doubling
up their toes.
Later the men danced in circles by themselves. Someone said
that I must do an American dance, and I offered to show them a
waltz, explaining that men and women danced it together. A
lengthy discussion took place while I waited for the drumming to
begin. Then the small boy told me that the old men had decided
it was immoral for men and women to dance together. Having
seen the liberal attitude toward sex maintained in the ologs, I was
startled by this aspect of Ifugao morality. Grumbling to myself
about the difficulty of becoming acquainted with the mores which
determined what was good and bad in human behavior, I racked
my brain for a dance which would not flaunt the degeneracy of
the West in the faces of these conservative, puritanical old men.
I performed some hula steps I had learned in Hawaii. They were
received with wild acclamation by the young people. The women
tittered, but the old men did not look pleased. I later learned that
my dances were not acceptable because of the avoidance taboos,
which forbade any reference to sex when certain relatives were
together.
Borrowing a small drum from one of the boys, I did a shaman
dance I had learned from the American Indians. The old men ap
proved of this and applauded so heartily that I went on and on, with
such fervor that I fell into the fire and burned myself. I was afraid
that the delight of Old Green Parrot could only express itself by
the gift of his parrot. Instead I was deluged with rice wine.
215
All day long we feasted, danced, and dozed by the fire, and
wakened to feast and dance again. By nightfall the gods had so
increased the rice in the granaries that there was no danger of
hunger before the next harvest. At least, the protruding bellies of
the Ifugao told them so.
I had been greatly impressed by the desperate manner in which
they had divided the sacrificial beasts. It was further evidence that
most of the people never had quite enough to eat. Yet they planted
only one crop of rice a year. Two crops would have provided
a surplus with which to buy meat. For years the United States
Government had been trying to convince them of this, so that they
could live in plenty, but their forefathers had planted only one crop
and they did not wish to offend them or the gods. Their economic
practices were inseparable from their religious beliefs, and they
knew that as long as they performed the ceremonies directed by
the prophets of the past, their one crop would be enough. Emo
tionally, they lived secure in this knowledge. It was a sin to count
the bundles of rice in the storehouses before the rice-increasing
ceremony. It was a sin to measure the rice in any way. If it ran
short, they had incurred the displeasure of the gods and would have
to atone for their sins by fasting. Some of the natives felt that
plenty would never come again because an oxs head was now
substituted for that of a human being in their ceremonies.
In view of this childish slavery to tradition it would be easy
to call them stupid savages, but such a judgment could not be
reconciled with the evidence of culture provided by the rock walls
of their fertile terraces. These astonished me more and more as I
made my way toward Hungduan along obscure foot trails, which
led through chasm after chasm into which rice terraces had
wormed their way like the roots of some colossal plant.
The grandeur of these terraced carvings on the rugged canyon
walls filled me with superstitious awe. To look at the stones piled
row on row was like thinking of traveling in a straight line for
ever. It seemed incredible that men should build a wall a hundred
feet high, hew miles of canal through solid rock, and convey moun
tains of earth in small handbaskets of rattan, to form a strip of land
thirty feet wide on which to grow rice. My reason disputed the
evidence of my eyes, giving me a constant sense of unreality.
These terraces were not monuments to death built by slaves
216
under the lash of the whip, nor monuments to war erected by teem
ing millions spurred by fear; they were monuments to life and love,
each one a story wrought in stone of a fathers love and ambition
for his child, of a boys yearning for a girl and a home.
The population of these mountains never exceeded 150,000. The
people for generations were menaced on every hand by tribes less
settled than themselves, glad to rob them of the fruits of their toil,
and by interminable blood feuds. What a grueling trial they must
have endured through the ages, fighting man and beast and the
restless tide of the tropical jungle which, if their vigil relaxed,
would smother their cultivated plots in half a year. Even the moun
tain wind was pregnant with the seeds of destruction for these
mighty walls, the seeds of unnumbered jungle plants ready to
thrust their roots like disintegrating wedges into every crevice
along their vast frontier. And the relentless rain was forever tug
ging at their foundations. Often, as I trudged through the intricate
maze of terraces toward villages perched like eagles nests a thou
sand feet above me, I heard it roaring down from sodden, low-hung
clouds.
The night before I was to arrive at Hungduan to keep my ap
pointment with Chirp, I sought shelter from this rain in a deserted
shack where a missionary had lived. I awoke in the gray half light
of dawn, with a startled awareness of anothers presence. The
merciless din of the rain on the thatched roof, which ha4 pelted me
to sleep, had ceased.
Since I had talked to Julio of the amucks and the headless bodies
which had been found in the irrigation ditches of Ifugao, a part
of my mind had stayed awake on guard every night. Now it was
warning me that another human being was very near. A flush of
terror tightened my skin. Taking stock of my position I found my
left hand resting on the jacket under my head. Slowly I gripped
it to parry a possible spear thrust. My right hand grasped the
ammonia gun. Now, triggered for action, I could wait for some
move from my adversary.
But there was no sound in the deserted house. Then directly
beside the house, outside the paneless window, I saw the silhouetted
figure of a naked girl standing out black against the slate-colored
sky. She could not see me in the gloom of the house, but I was
afraid to breathe lest the sound should startle her out of balance
217
and make her fall from the terrace wall on which she was standing.
She was bathing in the water cascading from the terrace. When
she had finished, she took a glowing ember from a clay pot, which
she had cached upon the side wall, and blew a handful of dry rice
straw into flame, making a tiny fire. In it she burned a bundle of
straw, stalk by stalk, until she had accumulated a pile of charcoal.
I was transfixed by the beauty of the scene, feeling no power in
side to move even when the flames of the little fire illuminated me
to the point where she would have seen me clearly if she had turned
her head.
Then, grinding the charcoal between the fingers of each hand,
she polished the long strands of her uncut hair. She was singing
softly with a happy air, as though the little spot of rock and water,
air and mist which she occupied were, together with her own
beauty, the only thing in the world to be desired. At last she
wound her long hair into a bun, secured it with a comb, scoured
her teeth with the remaining charcoal, and rinsed her hands. Put
ting on her short red skirt, which lay folded on the intersecting
wall, she placed the pot with the burning stick upon her head,
turned her back on me, and disappeared into the mist which
shrouded a clump of houses farther up the mountain.
At noon, as I made my way to the eagles nest of a village which
was pointed out to me as Hungduan, I found Chirp. He had been
on the lookout for me and met me halfway up the terraced moun
tainside. His father, Amambay, was waiting for us on a carved
wooden bench beneath the house. His name, I was told, meant
Thats true. I never did learn if this was his real name or a nick
name given to him because of his reputation as a teller of tall stories.
He was not a native of Hungduan, but came from the vicinity of
the village of Kiangan, said to have been established at the be
ginning of the world by Balitok, the first ancestor of the Ifugao.
This village was thought to have been the gateway to the sky world,
the village to which came Lindum, the Giver and the other gods
who gave the Ifugao their domesticated animals, their technology,
and their ritual.
I suspected that his family had had less wealth and rank than
that of his wife, for whom he had left his native territory. Since
he came from Kiangan, however, people respected him highly as
a priest and teacher, much as the Mohammedans give deference to
2I8
a native of Mecca. He was now so old that Chirps brother had to

carry him about on his back if the ceremonies he attended were
at any great distance.
Amambay greeted me warmly, speaking in pidgin English, and
soon I was installed in the little house on the compound, and was
launching into a ten-day period of the most strenuous talking I
had ever done. Amambay proved indefatigable and his store of
knowledge inexhaustible.
One day I asked him about the meaning of the ceremonies at the
rice-increasing festival I had attended at Hapao, and about what
was said during the hours of interminable chanting.
If there were twelve priests at the ceremony, he said, and
you watched them for a day, it would take me twelve days of
steady talking to tell you what they said. Explaining things in
English through my son, it would take me twenty-four days just
to repeat the ritual of that days feast.
I explained that I did not have that much time. Could he give
me a sample of what was happening here and there, tell me about
the trance behavior of the old men when they seemed to be in
a state of spirit possession, and about the figurines and stones which
were drenched with blood, washed with rice wine, or smeared with
the pasty cooked rice?
The names of the gods, and the recited myths in which they
play a part, and the prayers said to them, explain all that is to be
known of the ceremonial, the old man said. So Ill have to tell
you their names. First the messenger deities are contacted. They
assist the priest in calling the ancestors and the other gods. After
the ancestors are bidden to the feast, the Matungulon are called.
Amambay launched out into a recitation of the gods of the
Matungulon, describing the action of the priests in the ceremony
as he proceeded. In this first order of gods, he said, there are
a hundred and sixty-eight living in the four quarters of the sky
world, in the upstream and downstream regions of the earth, in
the underworld, and in the vicinity of Kiangan. Matungulon means
pay back or pay up. The sacrifices are offered in payment for
the gifts which Lindum, the chief of the order, and his descendants,
bestowed on the Ifugao.
The second god is called Haver-and-Giver of Dreams. The
third god, in each of the four levels, is called Like-a-Vision and
gives men visions. The next one is named Covered-Up.
219
Amambay said it was like planting a problem in your mind and

leaving it until it sprouted. To me he seemed to be describing re
flective thought.
The next god was named after a fluffy seed, like a milkweed pod,
which breaks open. He was especially important in the miraculous
fluffing out, or increasing, of the rice. Then there were a few gods
the names of which had no translations, and there were Stir-Upper,
Forgetter, and Betrayer, who were asked respectively to stop
stirring up the Ifugao and to stir up the enemy, to help the Ifugao
to forget unpleasant things and remember important things, and
to cause the enemy to do the reverse, and to stop betraying the
Ifugao and to betray the enemy.
Then the names of the gods trailed off into the technology of
weaving. Apparently the Ifugao had deified all the steps in the
process of weaving, and many of the features of the loom. Not
wishing to become a weaver, I asked Chirp about the second class
of gods. They were called the Napulungot. Like the Matungulon
they were Pay-backables, but they were described as living in
a cluster of villages down-river from the Ifugao, rather than in the
sky world and the underworld.
The locusts and grasshoppers were the chickens of the Bugan,
the wives of these gods. The gods were asked to stop their chickens
from feeding on Ifugao crops and to pasture them on the crops of
the enemy. There were thirty-four of these gods, the chief of
whom, Binonbong, was sort of a personified dam who stretched
himself across the rivers leading out of the Ifugao territory. He
caught up the released souls of the domesticated animals and of
the rice, and returned them to the Ifugao.
There were also four gods of this class, called Scatterers, whose
sacred object was a bamboo clapper much like the clappers the
Kankanai women used in their singing, and those which the dry
land rice growers used in the planting of their rice in various areas
surrounding the Ifugao territory. These clappers were included in
many of the agricultural ceremonies of the Ifugao, as though to
acknowledge their debt to the more primitive methods of growing
rice which had preceded the use of terraces.
The Napulungot gods had a special attachment for the granary
idols, which the Ifugao usually carved out of the trunks of tree
ferns, and which reminded me of the anito guardians of the Ilongots. When these granary idols were dedicated or activated, the
220
Napulungot were invited to possess the officiating priests, causing

them to run around on all fours and to bite the ears of the pigs tied
up for sacrifice.
By dinnertime Chirps father had named off the two-hundredodd gods in these first two classifications of Pay-backable deities.
It appeared to me that this portion of the rice-increasing ceremony
was an effort on the part of the Ifugao to express their apprecia
tion for everything which had come down to them from the past,
the accumulated knowledge of human beings. Through the names
of the gods they not only honored and expressed appreciation for
the art of animal husbandry and agriculture, for the technology of
weaving, pottery, and housebuilding, and for the efforts their
ancestors had actually expended changing the face of the earth, but
also made a bow to the vision, the dream, and the reflective thought
which had made it possible for these ancestors to invent and build
their civilization.
When I had been on the trail with the Negritos and we stopped
to leave a shred of tobacco at a tree or a rock or a river crossing, I
had had the feeling that the giver was offering an honest gift to
something which was primarily outside himself. But the Ifugao
gave their rice, wine, pigs, and chickens to gods who existed as
names in their own minds. And then they ate the sacrifices which
they had dedicated to these names of gods and ancestors.
It was a have-your-cake-and-eat-it society, so far as the re
ligious ceremonial was concerned. They did not pay an honest
fee of tobacco to the tree or the rock, or an honest fee of blood
to Tolandian, as the Negritos had. But the people who paid for
the feasts only got a fraction of the meat and wine themselves. The
high-caste priests and their relatives and families got the lions
share. On the face of it, the major motivating drive in the Ifugao
religion, so far as I had seen it, was the emotion of guilt. They said,
I am in debt to the gods and the ancestors, and I must pay this
debt with animals and rice which I have grown.
For the average person this was a legitimate type of social
activity, which should help him feel he was paying back a debt
to god, nature, or society, like the sacrifices and the magical hunting-and-gathering dances of the Negritos. But for the authorities,
who consumed the major share of the payment, it seemed spurious
and should have, it seemed to me, the reverse effect. The priests
221
were not giving, but only collecting from the other people in the
name of the gods, and were consuming what they collected.
At dinner, Amambay wreathed with fern greens the sweet po
tato he was eating, and told me what the priests had said to the
pigs at the feast. Chirp explained that his fathers mind was not
as good as it used to be, and that he could trust it to recall the
ceremony better if the sweet potato was made to serve as the pig.
Now he is summoning the linauwa or soul of the Monlapu who
was head rice priestess of the district of Kiangan before he left that
territory, said Chirp. She is now dead and another Monlapu has
taken her place. Now the soul has possessed him and he is doing
the chant that, all do together at the feast: Oh come, Bahiwag of
the underworld. Drink the rice wine, speed the multiplication of
the rice. Oh yes, thats it, the bagoldeity. Make the rice grains
as numerous as the grains of sand. Miraculously increase the rice.
Oh, do grant it, please. Make the rice heads heavy so they bend
the stalks. Oh yes, thats it.
Now Amambay was swaying in his chair and shuffling his feet.
With his finger, he was tracing counterclockwise circles around
the sweet potato, as I had seen the priests encircle the pig at the
feast, when they poured wine on it after the completion of each
round.
Get the pig, you spirit, Amambay was saying. Oh, thats it.
A libation has been made. Again he quivered and shook his head
slightly as though he had received a blow.
Thats to show the arrival of Bahiwag, said Chirp. Some
times I think my father is possessed, just telling of a ceremony.
Now the possessed dancer speaks with the gods voice.
I came up from below, said the old man in a changed voice,
dramatizing the chief messenger god, Bahiwag. I, Bahiwag, be
hold, with favor, that you are making a rice feast. Drink, all of you,
because I give you to drink. I taste the pigs, and chickens, and the
rice, as I have been accustomed to do in times past. Thus, I drink
in your dwellings and in your granaries. I desire it so, year after
year. We are the miraculous increasers of the rice. We are the slow
ness of the rice to be used up. We are the harvest knives and ties.
Chirp interpreted, and then went on to explain that his father
had shifted to the role of Tinukud, another god, who is usually in
222
voked later on in the feast, and who honors the process of cutting
and tying the bundles of rice, as well as increasing it. Now he
is doing the Monjua-Aa chant to dispatch the pig's spirit after it
is killed, said Chirp, translating the prayer. You are enwreathed,
Pig, because you were used at a harvest feast, in order that all of
yourice, death, stick, and pig may stay together and keep com
pany. Rise up, all of you, into the sky world. Arrive in the quarters
of the gods there. Tell them, Pig, that men killed you. Do not
remain speechless. Do not tarry, Sleeping Pig. You are en
wreathed.
At this point, Chirps mother broke in on the account of the
ceremonial, ordering us all to eat. She says my father will be
in the spirit world soon enough, without us asking him to go there
at mealtime, said Chirp.
After dinner, Amambay went on with his account of the ritual,
but he no longer confined himself to the ceremony I had seen. As
soon as he mentioned the Deceivers (the Manahaut), the third class
of gods, he became excited, seemed younger, and launched off into
a description of the head-hunting ceremonies. The Deceivers are
the major gods of war, explained Chirp,- and there are nine long
head-hunting rituals in all. There are sixteen gods of war and sor
cery, and Manahaut, the Deceiver, has twenty-four deified de
scendants. Also, the Sun has twenty-eight descendants, and the
Moon has thirty-one, all of whom must be honored in a full ritual.
Like the others, they live in the sky world and in the underworld.
After awhile, he got his father to dramatize the sacrificing of
the pig to Manahaut. At the climax of this ceremony, the priest,
possessed by the Deceiver, raises his arms above the pig. Another
priest, possessed by the spirit of the sun, spears the bound and
decorated animal; and the third priest, possessed by the spirit of
the moon, rushes up and drinks the blood which spouts from the
wound.
Acting out the roles of the three priests so exhausted the old man
that he was willing to leave head-hunting and go on to the descrip
tion of the fourth order of gods, the Gahidu. These gods activate
the snakes, the birds, the insects, and the other things, such as the
bile sac, which supply the Ifugao with information about the future
through their many omens. They, like the Deceivers, were invoked
in all the ceremonies, and they were depended upon more than any
of the others in the head-hunting rituals. Then came the fifth order,
223
the Reproducers (the Maknongan), who took care of fertility and

birth.
The symbolic allusions and the indirect way of talking of and
representing these important human functions, made me think I
was back in Sunday school or listening to a mid-Victorian father
discussing the facts of life with his family. Chirps interpretation of
his fathers veiled similes, of his description of the activities of the
reproduction gods, pictured what Westerners would think of as
orgasm and conception in terms of a fish darting with supreme
effort up the froth and foam of a waterfall, an aggressive, driving
rain making love to the expectant, thirsty earth, and the evening
mist penetrating and filling up the jungle.
As Amambay went through the first seventy gods in this order,
who lived in the downstream world, the upstream world, and the
underworld, I began to understand why my mention of men and
women dancing together, and my exhibition of the hula dance, had
received such a chilly reception at the rice-increasing ceremony,
where there were people together among whom the mere mention
of sex was taboo. The nearest mention of sex in the ceremony was
found in the names of the reproduction gods themselvesInvestor,
Earthquaker, Giver, Closed-in-a-Basket, and Shaky.
The only actual recognition of the result of birth was in the
name of one godQuiets Babies.
From about the eightieth god on, I got completely lost in a maze
of gods who were the actors in a series of myths called Hudhud.
Some of the characters of these myths did, at least, have a little
to do with the preliminary emotions leading to reproduction. They
were named Lovers Harp, Affection, Charity, Comfort, Consola
tion, Charmed, Made-to-Chuckle, Make Anxious, and Coax. But
the myths in which these characters played a part were sung not
only by the priests in connection with the invocation of the gods
of reproduction, but also by the women at their work, and by the
whole group at prestige feasts.
Even the ceremony performed while the mother was in labor
dramatized for us by Amambaywas still on the level of the
birds and bees, since it had to be performed before relatives in
whose presence the mention of sex was taboo. This ceremony,
which Chirp told me was supposed to give aid and comfort to the
woman in labor, again sent the old man into what appeared to be
a trance. He acted out the myth of an ancestor named Gold, who
224
was possessed by Skillful Giver. The god said to Gold, Come to

the top of the mountain and we will find Friend. At the mountain,
Gold chopped down the highest tree, peeled it, and turned it loose
to roll down the side of the mountain. Its slippery sap made it slide
easily down to Golds house. Then he threw down the bark and
said, So will Friend arrive easily in the house and his blanket will
soon follow.
Amambay chopped vigorously at the imaginary tree and threw
it down the mountain with such fervor that he dropped exhausted
on the floor.
NINETEEN
Lost among the Gods
I t was late, and Chirps mother

took advantage of the momentary pause to shoo us out, so her
aged husband could get some sleep. Before sunrise, we were called
for breakfast. While we were still eating, Amambay started his
account of the sixth order of deities, the Halupe, the Convincer
deities, who were believed to control social relations among the
Ifugao, especially those which enabled the giver of the ceremony
to collect his debts from his debtors and to avoid paying them
to his creditors. These gods also played a great part in the head
hunting ceremonies, by causing the adversary to forget about ven
geance, bringing him out of his house where he could be easily
taken, and causing him to feel pity if he got the advantage.
I had a hard time keeping my mind on the gods. The whole thing
seemed like magic rather than religion, and like suggestion psychol
ogy slanted to overcome anxiety even more than magic. It was like
the Lords Prayer said backward: Forgive me my debts and make
my debtors remember to pay. In the West if a man who is in debt
suddenly claims to be John D. Rockefeller, we put him in a hospital
and mourn his loss to society. These ceremonies were psychologi-
226
cal in that they aimed to make the people feel secure when they
were not secure, but they did not quite create an insane attitude
because the priests prayed that the outside debtor would also be
affected, along with the inside images. There was still a realization
in everyones mind that this desirable state of affairs might not
quite come off. Apparently, there was an appeal to the most pow
erful forces in nature to help it along.
The chief god in this category was Kidul, Thunder of the Sky
World. His son was BagilatLightning. Then there were gods
having the names of several different kinds of thunder and of sev
eral different kinds of fear. There were gods of relaxing, of soft
words, of agreement, and even one named Dumb, whose function
was to prevent the adversary from answering. Another one was
named Slowness, and was supposed to make the adversary slowwitted. Then we again ran into the characters of the Hudhud myth,
and Amambay sang about their activities and adventures until
almost noon.
The seventh class of gods were the Hidit, who regulated the
relationships between enemies. They were invoked to blow the
odor of the Ifugaos wine and food into the nostrils of the enemy
so he would breathe it in, thus breaking the taboos of ingesting
enemy food and drink, and bringing down disaster and illness upon
himself from all the gods.
The eighth were the Pili, who guarded the rights of property
and punished those who did not have the proper respect for the
prestige of the nobles.
I had heard stories from the Kalingas at Manolos compound
about the anitos who guarded the property and privileges of the
nobles. The stalk of the runo reed, with the two top leaves tied into
a loop, was used there to indicate private ownership, as a keep
out, hands off sign. The Kalingas had told me that apyone
could put such a sign on anything which was in the public domain.
But if you did put up such a runo stalk and did not have the cour
age or the kinship backing to force others to stay away from the
property you had claimed, you laid yourself open to the contempt
of both gods and men. The anitos were especially prone, the Kalin
gas said, to give you elephantiasis of the testicles, if you made a
claim which you could not force others to respect.
In Ifugao the runo loop was called a pudung. There was a whole
class of gods, some sixty-nine or seventy in number, to enforce
LOST AMONG THE GODS
22?
private ownership and to punish those who did not respect the
pudung or used it when they did not have the prestige to force
others to respect it. The Ifugao often reinforced the strength of
the pudung by building little Pili shrines near the runo stalk, and
inviting the gods to inhabit idols carved of stone or wood, which
they deposited in the shrines.
Amambay told us his favorite among the myths used for inviting
the Pili gods. Apparently there were quite a number of such myths.
Halfway through his recitation of it, he again went into trance, and
seizing a carved wooden spoon, danced around with it, singing
words which Chirp said would so activate the spoon that no
body could use it for ordinary eating. His mother was very dis
turbed, until I said I would buy the spoon and keep it to guard my
pack.
The old man was now speaking in the first person, saying, I,
Tan Amud di Pudung, activator of the runo loop and the idols
of the runo shrine, enter this image to guard and keep watch over
your property, and the dignity of you and your kinsmen. He
went on with an account of the frightful things he would do to
anyone who broke the taboo for which the runo shrine was set up.
At last Amambay came out of his trance and looked at the spoon
with a vague expression, asking how he had got hold of it. The
others explained that Amud di Pudung had possessed him and put
a Pili into the spoon. But Chirp said that it was all right, as I wished
to buy the spoon to guard my pack when I went on my way.
This occasioned a long discussion. Once my pack was guarded
by Amud, who now inhabited the spoon, he might bite or give
illness to innocent people who happened to touch my pack with
out meaning me any harm. This would be all right as long as I
was in Ifugao, since Amambay or some other priest could relieve
any illness or pain which the Pili caused to innocent people. But
once I was out of the territory, it might cause people damage
which I could not relieve even if I wished to, since I was not a priest
and could not call Amud down to take away his curse from inno
cent people or from the culprit, once he had confessed. I assured
him that I would send the spoon to a museum, where it would be
in a glass case so that no innocent person could touch it. But I
asked him also to instruct Amud, next time he had occasion to
call on him, not to bite any innocent people very hard, just for the
safety of the postal authorities and the museum curator.
228
We did not get around to the ninth order of gods, the Makalun,
the messenger deities, until after lunch, and they occupied us for
the rest of the day. There were not as many in this group as there
were in the other categories, but they overlapped with the ones
that had gone before and with other classes which we had not yet
discussed.
In order to call the gods from the sky world, the downstream
world, the upstream world, or the underworld, the priest appar
ently had to be possessed by one of the messengers. Even the gods
who inhabited various localities in near-by parts of the known
world were represented by messengers of the flying-monster type.
The most exciting information I gleaned that afternoon was the
fact that the messengers were the first gods to possess the Ifugao
priests, and further, that possession was not the result of initiation
when the priest was first ordained. The spirit possession had to be
sought by each individual priest, and although every normal male
Ifugao became a priest when he got married, some of them never
advanced to the rank or status attained through spirit possession.
This possession was sought through the good offices of older
priests, and entailed a fee. It was attained through a procedure
similar to hypnosis and often required months of co-operative ef
fort. Unless driven to seek possession through chronic physical, or
mental illness, all but the wealthiest priests usually neglected this
type of training.
Here I had found a true branch of psychotherapy, almost an
exact replica of the spirit possession which the Negritos sought
through the older shamans. There was, however, an important dif
ference once the possession state had been attained. Among the
Negritos, the possessing spirit became the personal property and
constant companion and servant of the shaman, whereas among
the Ifugao, the priest became the servant of the possessing messen
ger spirit and of the class of gods Whom he represented.
Instead of moulding the god to the therapeutic needs of the
shaman and organizing him as a part of the healers emotional and
intellectual resources, the Ifugao trance populated the priests mind
with gods, each more important than the priest himself and open
to the bribes of all his enemies. Furthermore, each god was thought
to be subject to all of the negative moods and vindictiveness of
the extortionist and the opportunist in Ifugao society.
LOST AMONG THE GODS
229
After dinner, Amambay dramatized the calling of the tenth or

der, the Poukwind deities. Four classes of these lived in the
downstream and upstream regions which lay to the east and west,
and two others lived in localities roughly north and south of cen
tral Ifugao. These deities were invoked in all the major feasts and
were asked not to take the life out of the rice, but to increase it,
and not to blow over houses and granaries, but to exercise their
violence on those who opposed the givers of the feast.
Amambay chanted softly, almost in a whisper, the words of his
invocations to the wind gods. Thinking that the old man was get
ting hoarse from his hours of singing, I suggested that we go to
bed. Chirp informed me that it was not wise to speak the names
of the wind gods loudly. If their names were not spoken softly
and with deference, they were likely to descend upon the priests
as typhoons rather than as possessing spirits.
After the old priest had whispered his way through the forty-six
gods, a good number of whom possessed him as he went along, he
asked Chirp to bring him the store of beeswax which was kept in
a rattan basket under the eaves of the house, just outside the door.
Then Amambay lit a portion of the beeswax, reciting incantations
as it burned.
Chirp explained that this was an added precaution in case any of
the winds had been aroused by his fathers recitation of their names.
Beeswax was a sort of chloroform to the Pouk, whom the Ifugao
thought of as having human form and as releasing the winds by
lifting their arms and thus opening the armpit caves in which the
winds were generated.
The next nine order of gods, which Amambay described the
following day, were of quite a different nature. All the deities we
had previously discussed might cause illness, destruction, and even
death if they were angry or felt themselves neglected, but the
next nine orders of gods had no other function than the causing
of illness and death. There were the Umaladangthe spiral-uppers
who came up from their house in Dagahna, the subbasement of the
universe, and bored their way into mens bodies, causing mysterious
ailments; the Pumihdol, who caused boils and tumors; the Liblibaiyu, who carried spears and hunted with dogs, stabbing men in
the back and causing symptoms of the liver; the Tinikmal, who
caused headaches; the Bulbulnit, who caused wounds, bruises, and
23O
fractures; the Baiyan, who caused arthritis and rheumatism; and

the Bayiad, the payment deities.
There were myths connected with all these orders of gods, but
Amambay refused to recite them unless we offered sacrifices. One
did not lightly bandy about the names of these illness deities.
Amambay had great respect for them. But the payment gods of
illness were so much like the Pay-backables, toward whom the
Ifugao felt obligated for their technology and their ritual, that
I decided to hear the myth and the names of the payment gods, even
though I had to buy a chicken for the sacrifice.
The myth he recited, after sending the messenger deity and
being possessed by the deity Pati from Humadol, told how Pati long
ago went to the downstream region to trade with a character named
Bumabakal, who apparently had all the diseases of the world locked
up in bamboo tubes. Bumabakal agreed to give Pati these diseases
in part payment on a transaction they were negotiating. By pulling
out the stoppers, Pati would be able, henceforward, to cause met}
any kind of disease which he liked. In order to get well they would
have to make sacrifices to Pati, not because he had given them any
thing useful, as the Pay-backables had, but just because they wished
to recover from the illness he had given them to collect the sacri
fice.
It seemed like taxation without representation to me. But the
Ifugao apparently saw nothing wrong in it, although usually the
payment deities were not invoked until all other treatments and
ceremonies had failed. If the Bayiad ceremonies did not cure a per
son, hope for him was abandoned.
The meanings of the names of the gods who were invoked in
these ceremonies made me think I was back in a pathology class
at medical school. There was Smallpox, Headache, Flux, Constipa
tion, Rheumatism, Chicken Pox, Malaria, Spit, Fever, Inflammation,
Mumps, and a few others. The names of these gods included all the
known diseases not covered in the other disease-producing classes
of gods, and some that were.
Again there was no attempt to convert the illness deities into
healing spirits, as there was in the Negrito ceremonial.
The eighteenth order of gods were described as harpies. They
were called Gatui, and were supposed to look like winged dogs
with human faces. These, like the other disease-producers, would
LOST AMONG THE GODS
231
cause illness and misfortune if they were not remembered with

sacrifices now and then.
After these came the nineteenth order, the Bumugi, the Spitter
deities. They searched out the souls who had recently left the
bodies of men, before they had learned their way about in the
spirit wofld. The Bumugi tricked these innocent souls into betray
ing their children or loved ones. Once the newly dead had ad
mitted a relationship with a living individual, thus bringing him
under the power of the Bumugi, these deities could victimize the
living person by spitting or pointing at him.
This stress on the spirits of the newly dead, the danger they were
in, and the way they endangered their living fellows, was upsetting
to me. I felt that unless I could figure out some reason for such ideas,
I would soon run screaming out of Amambays hut. The image of
the newly dead in the mind of the survivor was dangerous in all
societies. Even to think about it seemed to endanger my own mind.
The social policy of the Negritos, which encouraged the survivor
to go on communicating with this image in his dreams until, in
the funeral feast, it could be made at-one with him and the rest
of the community, seemed much more sane than the approach of
the Ifugao, which put both the image of the newly dead and the
survivor under the power of spiritual monsters which, to me, sym
bolized the fear of death. The Ifugao had climbed the ladder of
technical progress, but they had stepped down psychologically. At
sometime in the past they had probably written into their culture
the neurotic mechanism of one individual, and they were impos
ing it, generation after generation, on the entire group.
In the next two days we covered the remaining twenty or so of
the forty-odd classes of gods in the hierarchy, of which I had heard
in Banaue. Amambay no longer followed the sequence in which
they occurred at the ceremonies, but grouped them according to
his interest in them. Seven of these classes had to do with death and
the fate of the souls thereafter. The Taiyabanflying monsters
whom he mentioned as the twenty-sixth order of gods, devoured
the souls of the dead and the soul-stuff of the living, causing blind
ness, paralysis, deafness, and the like. I was surprised to learn that
the names of these gods were taken from the various trees and
other features of the Ifugao territory. Sink Hole, Landslide, Weir,

* 3*
Thorny Thicket, Tributary Streams, Tree Fork, Gravel Bed,
Rock, Terrace Bank, Nightnyer, Water Place, Mountain Pass, and
Mountain Peak were among the names Amambay recited.
I was getting weary of the gods of the Ifugao, but I could not
stop writing down their names and Amambays descriptions of
them. At last, I decided that I was hypnotized and that each of the
gods was possessing me, along with the old priest, as he proceeded.
The central mind had built Amambays body out of the elements of
the earth, and his personality out of the elements of this Ifugao
culture. Each god he spoke of was a center in his mind. This center
had a name and a form or pattern of action which, in their cere
monies, various priests had dramatized for Amambay as he grew
up. The dramatizations had enriched the form and name with
Amambays emotions. As he witnessed the ceremonies from his
earliest childhood, he had responded with feelings of awe, guilt,
anger, fear, love, or hope to the name and the action pattern which
depicted the role of each god.
Now, as he told me of the gods and acted out the roles, he was
allowing me to travel like a pilgrim through the vast interior of
his personality. Each center of his personality was like a terrace
in the unfathomable maze of terraces which covered the moun
tains of his homeland. Each terraced center of this vast inner world
where now I found myself had trails leading to higher and lower
terraces, and to either side. They were related to the central mind
of Amambay, and were avenues through which this central self
could reach his fellows, his land, the elements of nature, and even
me. In fact, these endless patterns had not only reached me but
engulfed me like a net. Now I could find my way out of them only
by following them back to the simpler Negrito patterns and for
ward to the ways of thinking of my own society. I had to listen
to the end to Amambays descriptions of his gods and determine
where each section of his network attached to the world that I
already knew.
As Amambay acted out the various roles, he felt he was serving
as a vessel of the go^d whose tendency and will he was dramatizing,
but to me, each of his gods was a vessel or vehicle through which
the center of himself found expression. Each was a vessel of his
own heart, as long as he stayed within the framework of the cere
mony, a vessel through which he expressed his fear of death or
failure, his hope of success, his feeling of possession or power over
LOST AMONG THE GODS
233
animals, people, and things. But I was uneasy as I watched him
dramatize the gods, lest he should slip out of the framework of
the ceremony, or slip back to a time before American law had put
an end to Ifugao head-hunting. If this should happen, one of the
gods might command him to substitute my head for that of the ox,
or he might run amuck and play the role of one of the ghouls whose
only desire was to absorb the soul-stuff of as many human beings
as possible, leaving them cold and dead.
The dazed look which came into his face as one god left and
another entered into his body reminded me of the expression on
the face of the small, scrawny lad in Bangued who had run amuck,
stabhed his teacher, and sliced up half the school and the police
force with his stubby-bladed pocketknife before he could be
brought under controlhad stabbed at everything alive as though
he had no sense at all, but with cunning for his own protection and
the destruction of others. But neither boredom nor fear, nor the
desire to be on mv way, could break through the net of gods which
Amambay had thrown around tne. I had to tread my way over the
knots of the mesh until I reached the end of his gods. Mechanically
I went on writing.
The Poglan deities, the twenty-eighth order of beings, the end
ing deities, were the gods of death.
The Imbagaiyon, the twenty-ninth order, were the conductors
of souls that had died, carrying them where the gods or ancestors
wished them to go, and assisting the priests to bring them back to
the death rites.
The Angob, the thirtieth class, were ghouls who ate, married, or
enslaved the souls of the dead. They were also thought to possess
the living in an attempt to hasten their death. Among the names
of these gods were Rat, Cat, Dog, Python, Carabao, Civet Cat,
Wild Boar, Pig, and Cobra. Sacrifices to these gods were made at
midnight at whatever spot they took possession of an individual.
Ghoul possession was indicated by the arrival of a heavy, damp
feeling. As the ghoul spirit left, one was supposed to see the kind
of an animal it represented scurrying off into the darkness.
The gods of the.thirty-first class were called the Banig. They
were the actual ghosts of people who had failed to leave the earth
because they were earth-bound or who had not yet found their
place in the spirit world.
234
The Pahang, the thirty-eighth class of gods, were soul-stuff

stealers, like the flying monsters, but they inhabited the sky world.
The Kibkiblu, the fortieth class of deities, were invoked in the
postburial funeral services.
Altogether, there were more death rituals than any other
single type of ceremony, seventeen in number. In some of these, all
of the deities, not just those of the classes especially associated with
death, were invoked.
Some of the remaining orders of deities seemed like subclasses of
the gods already described, and some were deified ancestors.
The thirty-sixth were ancestors who were credited with actually
building certain terraces the Ifugao had inherited, as well as ob
taining the art of terrace-building from the sky world.
The thirty-ninth order, the Pahiu, were ancestors claimed by
some of the lineage groups to have somehow intermarried with
the gods, resulting in children who were both divine and human.
To me this seemed like an extension or elaboration of the Bontoc
myth in which the high god came down to earth, married the
namesake of the first ancestress, Fukan, and had children.
These gods brought some warmth to my heart, and dispelled
the numbness which was settling on my mind. They, at least, were
germs of yeast which might eventually break up the stratification
imposed upon the personality of the Ifugao by the layers or castes
of his society and the many strata of his gods. Any of these descend
ants of the gods would become a commoner if he married a com
moner, so they were being diffused through the layers of their
society, and being relatives of the gods, they could invite the low
gods up to the earth, and the high ones down. If they got them to
rub elbows often enough, a democracy might result, where at
least the heart of every man would be equal to that of his neighbor.
The thirty-second order of beings, the Pumupud, were the
obstetric deities. Judging from their function, they might be de
scribed as a subclass of the gods of reproduction. The Pumupud
blocked or helped with the delivery of the child. Dam-Builder,
Plaster-Upper, Tear-Downer, Vagina-Blocker, and Shifter were
some of the individual gods in this class of deities.
Then there were also four classes of gods devoted to activat
ing talismen. The Kawil activators had been invoked mostly to
enliven charms used in head-hunting. They were the twenty-first
order of gods in the hierarchy.
LOST AMONG THE GODS
235
The Bulol, the twenty-third order of deities, were specialists in
granary-idol activation, whereas the Hagaiyupthe thirty-seventh
orderwere an order that was invoked to activate the charms used
in love and hunting. In my own mind I classed all of these talisman
activators as gods having an outgiving psychological function, like
the war gods and the Convincers already mentioned, and like the
minor war deities, the Hipagthe twentieth order.
There were a number of myths connected with the Hipag. These
were stories about a stronger and weaker contestant, a hard stone
and a soft stone, and a fledgling who fought a losing battle with
a full-fledged cock. Chirp told me that the stronger contestant
was entreated to stay on the side of those giving the ceremony, and
the weaker to go to the side of the opponent. These gods were also
talisman activators. The cock image, along with the hard river
pebble, was usually covered with the blood of the sacrifice during
the ceremony, as I had seen in Hapao. These Hipag deities were
thought to like raw meat, and an offering of it was made to them
before the meat was cooked. They were most often invoked in
conflicts with kinsmen and in sorcery. They were of interest to
me because they represented aggressive forces in conflict, gods
turned against the gods, the way the good in man is often turned
against the bad in him. But according to the myth, the stronger
was always the good. The reasons underlying a disagreement were
never even considered.
The Hawat-Buyan, who came thirty-fifth on Amambays list,
were the diviner deities. They did not represent an outgiving func
tion like the talisman activators and the war deities, but were
receptive in nature, like the omen activators through whom the
Ifugao learned the will of the gods, or at least their intentions.
They were invoked whenever the diviners wished to balance the
egg on the steel blade, and in other types of divining. They were
most often appealed to when people were ill and when things were
stolen or lost.
The sun, moon, and stars were prominent among the gods in
this class. In telling people what was wrong with them and warn
ing them of misfortune, these gods, more than most of those in the
other classes, seemed to act like Western gods. But even they had
to be paid well by sacrifices if they were to function.
The Makiubaiya, the thirty-fourth order, Fond-of-Sugar-Cane
gods, were almost the exact opposite of the disease-producing
236
deities. They were believed to gather about the altars leading in

and out of the Ifugao village, to eat the sacrificed sugar cane, in
swarms so thick that the disease-producing deities could not get
into the village.
The gods most exciting to me were the Pinading, the twentyseventh order. They were said to own all the game in the area where
they lived and corresponded almost exactly to the local place spirits
of the Negritos.
The hunting deitiesthe Bakaiyaawanthe twenty-fifth order;
the mountain spiritsthe Monduntugthe twenty-fourth order;
and the deities of the chasethe Alabatthe twenty-second order,
also corresponded very closely to the Negrito spirits. The names
of the Alabat deities sounded like a Negrito magical dramatization
of a projected hunt. Hunter-at-Starting-Place, Encourages-Dogs,
Hurls-Spear, Holds-Quarry, Spurting-Blood, Staining-Vegetation,
Cuts-Off-Head, and Shares-Carcass were among the deities who
were invoked to attend the Ifugao on the hunt.
The Monduntug, who were also asked to attend and protect the
hunter, had the function of making the snags and thorns soft. LikeStraw, As-If-Rotten, Like-the-Soft-Flopping-Doo-Dad-on-aWomans-Headdress, Puddle-Maker, Soft-Like-the-Down-of-aRuno-Plume, were among the gods invoked. The Bakaiyaawan
had a similar function of protecting the hunter from thorns, snakes,
and wounded animals and carrying him along to the game, as
the magical hunting dances of the Negritos were thought to do.
The thirty-third order of beings, the Binudbud, with which
Amambay finished his account of the gods, were invoked to af
fect the game, to wrap or tie the animals so they could not escape
from the hunter. Wrapped, Get-Between, Covered-with-Vines,
Caught-in-Trap, Stinginess, Fasted, and Pacified, were some of the
individual gods in this Binudbud class.
These wrapping gods were invoked in all the ceremonies for one
reason or another. In the rice-increasing ceremonies they were
asked to wrap up mens stomachs, so the rice would not disappear
so fast. At the prestige feasts they were encouraged to wrap up
the aggressive emotions, so fights and quarrels would not develop,
since the giver of the feast is responsible in Ifugao for the wel
fare of his guests. They were also invoked to tie up the anger of
creditors, so their demands for payment of debts would not be
harsh, and even to tie up the sexual force of men, if their kinsmen
LOST AMONG THE GODS
237
or wives thought they were unable to direct their love into the
proper channels.
Like the other gods, the Binudbud were encouraged to have a
baleful effect on the enemy, especially to tie up his bowels and to
make him sexually impotent.
TWENTY
Spiritualism in Ifugao
JLHE five days I had spent with

Amambay, Chirp, and the Ifugao deities left me in a state of con
fusion about the structure of the mind and personality of the
Ifugao. Apparently there existed in the mind of the Ifugao the same
kind of mosaic arrangement as I had observed in the mind of the
Negrito, with the image of every stone, animal, tree, force of
nature, and human being possessed by, or inhabited by, a spirit.
Both of these peoples credited these spirits with strength com
parable to, or superior to, their own. The main difference was that
among the Ifugao the mosaic was infinitely more complicated,
containing such a great number of individual beings identified by
name, that systems of classification had grown up, perhaps out of
the sheer necessity for a method of remembering them.
Obviously, the Ifugao had to absorb more images than did the
Negrito in order to perform his ceremonies. Obviously, the gods
in the mind of the Ifugao had to get along with each other and
to help the individual adjust to the group and to the environment
through the ceremonies. When the gods failed in these two func
tions, there was physical illness, insanity, or amuck.
238
SPIRITUALISM IN IFUGAO
239
I knew that if I could pay for the sacrifices, it would be possible

to arrange for some healing ceremonies. I could then see how the
ceremony operated on the individual who became ill in spite of the
fact that a thousand-odd gods were frequently invoked and bribed
with sacrifices to keep him well.
The next morning I told Chirp that I had developed a headache
and a stiffness in the neck, and asked him if his father could per
form the healing rites for these ailments. Amambay said that he
should have a priest or two to help him with such serious symptoms,
and that there should be at least one chicken for each symptom.
This was out of the question in my impoverished state, so I ex
plained that the symptoms were not serious and that my head
hardly ached at all. At last we settled on a small chicken for
the stiff neck, and a duck, cheaper than a chicken, for the head
ache.
It took Chirp and me all morning to round up the sacrifices, and
buying as economically as possible, we still spent three pesos.
The ceremonies performed that afternoon for my ailments were
not very different from the god-calling, or god-pushing, and the
possession states I had seen at the rice-increasing ceremony. The
names of the gods recited in the ceremony were interestingHead
ache, Not-See-Straight, Sunken-Eyes, Red-Eyed, Hiccuping,
Kicking, Sweating, Struggling, and Vomiting.
The small duck sacrifice entitled me only to the recitation of
one headache myth. Amambay told how Balitok went down
stream with his companions and speared the god Montinig. They
cut off his head, but it went right on laughing and jeering at them.
Terrified, they buried it and went back to their village. A year
later, as they went along the same trail, they found a coconut tree
growing over the burial spot. Thirsty, they drank some coconut
milk, and all had headaches, so Balitok made a sacrifice to Monti
nig, whose head had grown into the tree. The god blew him a
cure.
Chirp told me there was another myth about a fight between the
sun and the moon, which would have been recited if my headache
had been more serious.
The ceremony for the stiff neck was much more dramatic. The
Baiyun gods which were invoked bent Amambay and the other
priest almost double as they possessed them. In the chant the
priests told the arthritis gods that they, the gods, were afflicted,
24O
bent over, stiffened, and swollen up, but asked them please not to
swell me up, since I had bought the chicken.
But do not affect us who have returned vengeance. We are
dear to you. Those enemies of ours started the feud. They speared
us first, anyway, said Amambay.
The myth told how Wigam of the sky world came down to
Ifugao and cut a mara tree for the girder of his house, into which
the avenged and the returners of vengeance might enter. The myth
made it appear that I had a stiff neck because I did not express my
rage by taking vengeance on my enemies. It indicated that the tree
demons, like the earth demons, had originally demanded sacrifice,
preferably human, for the lives of the trees which were used up in
building the house. The priests had not asked me about my frustra
tions and quarrels, but the ritual declared to the gods that my
enemies were all in the wrongThey speared us first.
The words of the myth also indicated that these Baiyun gods
were Pay-backables, and that the sacrifice was a sort of interest
payment on the debt which man owed to the gods for the tech
nology of housebuilding. Further, it showed that arthritis and
rheumatism were believed by the Ifugao to be the result of unex
pressed aggression or revenge, and that these symptoms were im
posed on men who failed to take revenge on their enemies,
especially when they did not fulfill the blood feud. I inquired of
Chirp about this, and he told me that you might get arthritis if a
distant kinsman were killed or wounded even if you did not know
the wrong had been committed. It was not, therefore, necessarily
a matter of lacking courage to take vengeance, or of failing to fol
low your conscience in the matter.
If the symptom was stubborn, the diviners would have to be
called in. If the laws, or ones resources, did not permit the revenge
the diviner gods prescribed, then a man would have to resort to
sorcery or black magic for his revenge, until the symptom disap
peared.
It seemed to me that here the Ifugao were only one step from the
realization that the enemy which had to be destroyed was inside the
individual who had the symptom. Once they had taken that step
and come to see that the arthritis gods were dream characters or
facets of their own personality, they would not perpetually have to
complicate their social life by attacking their fellows merely be
cause the diviner said that they were enemies.
HI
In the morning, while we were buying the fowl for the cere
monies, Chirp learned of a sick woman in a near-by village. We
obtained permission to visit the healing ceremony which was to
be held for her that evening. Chirp thought that she was mentally
deranged. She was a young married woman and came from a poor
family. In order to avoid the expense of a ceremony which in
volved the priesthood, she was to be treated by some woman
healers.
In this type of ceremony, dried pig jowls, which no one could
eat because of a taboo on them, and the essence of clothing and
beads, were offered up to the gods. These articles were not de
stroyed in the ceremony and could be used time after time. There
fore the price of the ceremony was negligible. In order to make
ourselves more welcome, we offered to bring along a jug of rice
wine.
On the way to this ritual, Chirp told me that the female priests
were called halag, and that women became practitioners only as a
result of illness which led to dreams in which they were com
manded to become healers. This indicated that the elaborate cere
monial and ideology of the men had not crowded out the more
primitive dream-inspired shamanistic healing, which both the men
and women practiced among the Negritos, and which the women
practiced among the Ilongots, the Kalingas, the Kankanai, and the
Bontocs.
I was most anxious to learn if these halag operated on the offend
ing spirit as the Negrito did, forcing it to serve the patient, or if the
Ifugao healing ceremony resembled that of the Kankanai and the
Bontocs, where the offending spirit was only asked to leave or
to attack someone else, instead of being transformed into a servant
of the patient.
There were four halag assembled in the patients house when we
arrived. Each, with closed eyes, was squatting on the floor chanting
over and over the names of her own ancestors in a monotonous
singsong voice. How many times a halag would repeat the name of
each ancestor, before passing to the next in the lineage, was ap
parently determined by her feelings as she said the name. Chirp
said they would continue to name the ancestors until they got back
to Balitok and Bukan, the first ancestors. Then, in a like manner,
they would recite the names of the gods, especially those in the
Hudhud myths. Sometimes it took an hour or more of this monoti*
242
onous chanring before one of them was possessed by a god or

ancestor whose name she was repeating.
Tonight we were fortunate in not having to wait so long. All of
them stopped the chanting to take a drink of the rice wine as it
was passed around. Then, about five minutes after the chanting
had been resumed, one of the halag, a cousin of the woman who
was ill, went into trance. She leaped from her squatting position
high into the air, and catching hold of the boards of the side of
the house, agilely climbed up into the rafters, announcing with a
gruff voice, I am the grandfather of the sick one. The possessing
spirit also happened to be the grandfather of the halag, but this did
not seem to be important. Then one of the other halag asked the
spirit why he had climbed onto the rafters. The gruff voice ex
plained that there was a stranger present whom he did not know,
referring to me. Another halag told him that I had bought the wine
and invited him to come back down and have a drink of it.
A little persuading, and the possessed woman returned to the
floor as agilely as she had climbed, and accepted another bowl of
wine. The grandfathers voice asked why he had been called, and
the third halag, silent until now, explained that the hostess was ill
and wished to know from him what she must do to be cured. The
grandfather spirit admitted that he was causing the illness and
that he would not allow the patient to rest easy until she had ar
ranged a second burial for him.
Apparently this had been a bone of contention in the patients
family for years. The other mediums, speaking to the spirit through
the possessed halag, pointed out that the patient had already de
cided to have a ceremony for him as soon as she could get the rest
of his descendants to co-operate. It was not her fault that his son,
her father, had neglected this very important rite. They would have
the ceremony as soon as possible, but was there nothing that could
be done now to pacify him until a really good and satisfactory
second burial could be arranged?
At this point the mediums voice shifted to a higher pitch. Im
cold, she said. Her teeth chattered. Im so cold. Cant you bring
in more wood? Tell your father to bring in more wood. Now
she was shivering and bending double, with an expression of pain
on her face.
A Negrito shaman would have said she had met the spirit of cold,
and would have tried to help her to get a song from him, and to
M3
make him one of her spirit assistants, but the other halag simply
ordered the patient to put more wood on the fire as a sacrifice to
the ancestor. The possessed woman went on mumbling about hot
broth, more blankets, and special foods, doubling up every few
minutes and writhing as though with pain, as she had at first. But
the others did not encourage her to build the writhing movements
into a dance, or to weld the scattered phrases into a song. Instead,
they went on adding to the pile of sacrifices, to which all those
present were contributing, knowing that the spirit would only take
the essence and that after the ceremony they would get back all
their belongings.
This storm, said the spirit voice, jerking as though listening
to thunder.
What an excellent opportunity to get a drum rhythm! But the
assistant halag did not ask her to beat out the sounds. Instead, they
said that as soon as the patient could afford it, a sacrifice would
be made to the Pouk, the wind deities, so they would blow away
the storm.
After awhile, the grandfather spirit left, and the ceremony came
to an end. The patient said she felt better, but Chirp told me that
she could not expect a cure until the reburial ceremony had taken
place and the Pouk had been invoked. These ceremonies would
require real sacrifices of pigs or chicken, not just the spirit from
the pig jowls, blankets, and wood which had to be burned any
way to keep the house warm. This part of the healing procedure
would be a regular ceremonial, performed by the priests, not the
halag.
I had a chance to ask the halag about their calling to the pro
fession of healing. All of them had been forced into it by a series
of dreams and by illnesses which did not clear up until they had
been possessed. The patient had also had dreams encouraging her
to become a medium, and had been told, through the diviners, that
she must seek possession through the messenger gods, but so far
neither the priests nor the halag had succeeded in bringing her to
a state of possession. At least these spirit ceremonies made her the
center of the social group, and therefore helped to keep her in
contact with social reality.
It occurred to me that the halag who attained possession in these
seances in attempting to help the patient was probably receiving a
much higher degree of therapy than the patient herself. If the
244
spirits that had expressed themselves were, as I believed, parts of

the mediums personality, this was certainly an opportunity to al
low them expression. Through this expression these fragments
could become better attached to the images of the members of the
social group who were assembled at the ceremony for the purpose
of helping to cure the illness of their friend.
The next day was Thursday, and I busied myself with prepara
tions to leave. Amambay insisted that Chirp go along with me as
far as the Asin River Rest House. Because I was his guest, he was
responsible for me until I was out of his territory. In the outlying
districts American influence was not as strong as it was around
Banaue and Kiangan, and a stranger traveling alone might be in
danger. Amambay did not regard the inhabitants of these border
line districts as quite civilized. When he had told us the day before
of the Hagaiyup, who activated love and hunting charms, I had
asked Chirp if I could get a love charm for myself. He had heard
about my failure to keep the date with younger sister that first
night in Ifugao, and said he had been thinking that I needed a
charm to change my luck and to interest me in something besides
gods and ceremonies. A year before, he and some other boys had
killed a crocodile on the Kinga River and he had obtained its
testicles, planning to have a love charm made of them for himself,
later, when he needed it. But his glibness and gift of persuasion, so
highly valued in Ifugao, had won him so much attention from
the women that he had never felt impelled to arrange the ceremony
which would make his crocodile glands a love charm. Knowing
that he did not need them as much as I, he offered them to me as a
parting gift.
We were planning on spending the evening in the village of
Kinga. Chirp thought that if I would have a ceremony to activate
the charm the Hagaiyup were certain to give us luck in love on
my last night in the territory. I felt compelled to arrange a cere
mony in appreciation for what I realized was a great sacrifice for
him, but I knew it was expensive, otherwise Chirp would have al
ready had it performed for himself. His older brother had looked
admiringly at my silk tarpaulin and had even borrowed it to throw
over himself and his father when he carried him about. I had had
the feeling at the time that I could not take it with me when I left.
I told Chirp to ask his brother if he would like to have the tar-
245
paulin in exchange for the chickens I would need for a charm
activating ceremony. He was delighted, and an hour later turned
up with three large chickens and three priests.
One of the old men he had brought was the love-charm expert
of the district, and had with him the ingredients necessary to com
plete my talisman. He ground up herbs in a small wooden mortar
and smashed out their juices. Into this mixture he ground the dried
brain of a kingfisher (which looked like half a walnut), coconut
oil, and the precious gonads of the crocodile. This was poured into
the open end of a tiny gourd.
By now my gift, the silk tarpaulin, was spread on the nmo mat
beneath the house, and the invocation of the Hagaiyup deities
began. It was a beautiful ceremony. The four priests chanting to
gether tickled the ears of many ancestors and gods with their in
vocations. These, half prayer and half command, would make me
irresistible to the ladies and the ladies powerless to withstand my
words of love. They would also make all my rivals dumb, im
potent, and unattractive.
Off and on through the ceremony, my mind returned to Mrs.
Hartendorp. If, as she thought, I was running away from a fear of
love, or of my own inadequacy, I had certainly run to the right
place.
When each of the thirty-nine Hagaiyup gods had possessed the
priests and each of the priests had danced, elevating the talisman so
the gods could pass into it through their hands, the talisman-activat
ing ceremony came to an end.
Then the priests invoked the other classes of gods of the Ifugao
hierarchy, requesting that they accompany me on my journey.
The tears welled up in my eyes as Chirp translated the prayers and
the persuasive arguments which the priests were having with the
deities in my behalf: Surely it will be good to turn all pestilence,
famine, witchcraft, and villainy aside from the path of thy son,
as he goes on his journey; protect him from the landslides, from
falling trees, from thorns and stones, along the path between
Mount Tabayoc and Mount Abao; save him from the cataracts
and whirlpools of the Asin River and the Abra River, as he travels
to Bokai, to Manila, and to his native place; protect him from the
Upstreamers, and turn against themselves the spears of all those
who would molest him; make each step on the trail as safe and
familiar as the path of his own backyard at home; allow him to
246
get very drunk without committing violence; permit him to talk

much and talk straight, to ask for what he wants from strangers and
to get it; compel all his creditors to extend the term of his debts,
but let his debtors hear his voice as that of a commanding deity;
inspire all his kinsmen to give him their rice, their pigs, their death
blankets, and their rice wine in abundance. He shall stand up
straight and remind all of the tail feathers of the full-fledged cock.
To those who know him well, he shall be as gold that does not
tarnish. Throughout all his journey, until he returns to us, his
head shall toss proudly, like the runo plume in a breeze, like the
seed of the cogon grass riding free and high on the wind. He shall
go forward, even like the waters of a mighty river that cannot be
halted in its course.
It was well on into the afternoon when Chirp and I took leave
of his family and the priests, and set out for Kinga, the last out
post of the Ifugao territory. Chirp insisted on carrying my pack.
I felt as though I were walking on air. Word had been passed along
to his mothers brother, whom he referred to as Uncle Dalum (Up
stream), that we were coming, and we received a warm welcome
on our arrival.
I did not have a chance, however, to test the potency of the love
charm, which had been plugged up in the gourd with dry sugar
cane pith and sealed with hot beeswax, so it could be conveniently
carried. There was a postburial funeral service for a girl who had
recently died in the village, and all the young ladies in the vicinity
were attending it. We went along.
The officiating priest had already invoked the ancestors when
we arrived, and the Imbagaiyon deities were conducting the soul
of the girl back to the priest, so she could talk through him to her
relatives and friends assembled for the ceremony.
The priest is possessed with Monunglub now, the facer or
director of souls or forces, said Chirp. Hes talking with the voice
of the god, and is describing how hes directing the girls soul back
up from the downstream region to the ceremony. She is nearly
here.
The priest shuddered, and the right side of his mouth twitched
violently. His facial expression changed and his voice lost its deep
guttural quality and became falsetto. Now he is talking with the
girls voice, said Chirp. She is explaining why she died. She says
*47
she had nothing against her friends and family, but she was very
tired, and her lover, who died last year, kept calling for her. It was
he who permitted the Angob (ghoul) to push her off the terrace.
The ghoul took the form of a civet cat and jumped at her, so she
lost her footing as she was returning from working in the terrace.
She says that civet cat, the ghoul, has made her his servant and will
keep her always if a pig is not sacrificed to him in her behalf.
Then she left, and the old priest went on invoking the other
classes of gods, whom he charged with the responsibility of help
ing him to free the girls soul from the servitude of the ghoul.
When the ceremony was completed, I realized that this was the
first formal religious ritual I had seen in which a priest had become
a spirit medium for an ordinary mortal. Always before it had been
the gods and the deified, or partly deified, ancestors who had
spoken through the prfest. These spirit beings spoke in a formalized
way, with the voice of authority. Speaking through the priest, the
gods were given a chance to express themselves. The facets of the
priests personality through which the gods spoke received exer
cise or release in the process. If the health of the individual priest
was, as I suspected, dependent on the expression of these parts of
himself, the ceremonial would function as psychotherapy for the
priest. This would hold both while the priests personality was
being moulded as he learned to undergo possession and when he
later performed the ceremonies which released or exercised the
patterns established by this possession training.
In this postburial ceremony, as in the healing ceremony of the
women mediums, there was some opportunity for spontaneous ex
pression on the part of the priest.
It was already late when the ceremony was completed, but the
priest consented to stay on and answer questions if I could supply
more rice wine. I gave one of my remaining three pesos to a man
who lived near by, and he agreed to bring a jug of wine. Two pesos
would have to do me for food until I got to Bokai.
We launched into a discussion of the dangers of love between the
living and the dead. Some of the dead accepted the help of the
Spitters, the harpies, the ghouls, and the local place spirits, or the
other disease-producing deities, when they wanted to bring their
loved ones across the barrier of death. In the opinion of the old
priest, all ghosts who accepted such help were dupes. The living
who consented to be taken before their natural time to die were also
248
cheated, since they would be enslaved by or married to the mon

sters who had helped with the process. They therefore would
not reach their loved ones or kinsmen in the afterworld for a long
period, if at all.
The same dangers applied to suicide. To be safe, one had to love
and serve the living people who surrounded him until he had repayed the Pay-backables for the gift of life and for the gift of the
accumulated wisdom of the past. Then he might go to his loved
ones who had died.
The Ifugao had a ceremony in which a man could tell the gods
that he felt he had paid up his obligations, and that he was weary
and wished to die. But it was extremely dangerous to speed up the
process of dying with the help of the ghouls.
I was interested in this philosophy of life and death, and poured
the wine freely in the hope of learning more. I instructed Chirp
to ask the priest to shut his eyes and see if he could travel back to
other postburial ceremonies at which he had officiated, and see
again or listen to the other spirits which had spoken through him.
The pictures and conversations he described, once he had got well
started, convinced me that the spirits who had spoken through him
and told how they were being eaten, enslaved, or raped by the cat
gods and the cobras, the wind gods, the flying monsters, and the
harpies, were not very different from those 'which spoke through
the Negritos when they were in trance.
When first contacted, the horse-faced dwindis and the painproducing spirits which possessed the Negrito shaman were much
like these returning spirits of the dead. So were the nightmare char
acters which attacked the dreamer and his friends in the bad dreams
of both the Negritos and the Ifugao. But here again I could find
no evidence that the Ifugao attempted to transform and utilize
these spirits or dream characters, as the Negritos did. The Ifugao
priest hoped that the offending spirit would release the image of
his friend, or patient, and withdraw into the shadows. The priest
made no attempt to transform and utilize the spirit.
TWENTY-ONE
Spirits of the Mountain
I t was getting light when we

left the cabin, and Chirp suggested that we should be on our way,
as the trail to the Asin River Rest House was steep and rugged.
By eleven oclock we had said good-by to the last rice terrace and
plunged into the jungle. The next morning at dawn, across the Asin
River valley, I left Chirp and started over the divide.
My pack was light now, as I had given him my blanket as a part
ing gift. It would help to keep the mountain cold out of his fathers
bones, and I would soon be down in the Lowland heat, where I
would not need it.
Chirp had given me a bag of parched com, just in case I
sprained my ankle on the trail and had to spend a few days waiting
for someone to come along. Drop me a line from Loo, he had
said. If we dont hear from you in a week, my father will insist
I come over the trail looking for you. He will consider you our
guest until you are in Loo.
As I lost sight of him down the trail, I suddenly realized that
for the first time I was on my own in the jungle. The idea of travel
ing with no one to show me where to step and where to rest my
249
25O
hand was terrifying. The trail led along through massive hard
wood trees. The rising sun glittered on the thorns, spines, scales,
hooks, and tendrils which made the underbrush into an armory of
desperate plants, striving to protect themselves as they climbed
helter-skelter over the palms and tree ferns and onto the hardwood
giants of the sky to seek the light of the sun. I recognized the rat
tan creeper, the thorny bamboo, and the spiny ficus. The priests
had warned these plants not to harm me.
Each time I sat to rest, my eyes followed the rays of the slanting
sun on past the thorns and spiny leaves to the rotting floor of the
jungle, where I saw a deeper world, inhabited by the wood scor
pion, the giant caterpillar, the grub, the iridescent beetle, the
centipede, the lizards, and the lizardlike gecko, clinging to glassy
bark with suckered feet. Amambays parting prayer had also made
all of these my brothers. He had especially instructed the gecko to
warn me if there was danger about. Looking closer, I could find
the twiglike praying mantis and the spider. Even turtles were there,
and flying frogs, to cheer me on my way that morning as I trudged
upward toward the lofty pass between Mount Abao and Mount
Tabayoc.
Two hours of sunshine, and then the Pouk gods, who also had
been asked to help me on my way, brought clouds as black as twi
light to conceal the beauty of the path, and rain which roared in
the upper branches and dripped like a million leaky faucets on the
trail. Another hour in the gloomy sodden depths, and the jungle
ended abruptly in a wildly swaying field of cane which looked like
cogon grass but was heavier. It was like marching through the
beating, tossing branches on the top of the jungle; the long, ribbon
like leaves streaked across the trail and vibrated with the singing
sound of band saws. In some places the cane leaned so far over
that I was forced to crawl on hands and knees through tunnels
black as night. Where the wind was not steady, the leaves swirled
and cracked like bullwhips. Above it all, there was the thunder.
Soon I had picked out the muttering thunder, the rolling thunder,
the clapping thunder, and the sobbing thunder, of which I had
heard so recently in the ceremonies.
Often the lightning played about on the tossing plumes and
leaves of the cane with a crackling sound, filling the air with a
sulphurous odor. At times I even felt it playing in my hair like
ants. Progress was slow, with the drooping wet leaves even more
SPIRITS OF THE MOUNTAIN
251
slippery than the mud, sometimes blocking the trail completely.
I had to step back and throw myself upon them, crashing them to
the ground and measuring my headway against them only by the
length of my body. It was afternoon before the wild sea of cane
leaves gave way to a scaly, mossy growth of gnarled, stunted trees,
and still the trail led upward, even steeper than before.
The Rest House keeper had told me that noon should bring me
to the summit. But the storm in the cane belt cost me an hour or
two, and what is more, I was exhausted. Steadily the air grew
colder. The soaking rain came down so hard I could not see for
twenty yards, but now the trail held underfoot. The blanket of
moss seemed inches thick, and was tough enough to hold firm un
der my weight. As I gained altitude, the gutlike roots of the trees
became more and more exposed, as though the top of the moun
tain had been washed away from under the trees, until, at the sum
mit, the forest had a crazy two-story appearance. One story was
made up of the twisted, tripodlike, obscene roots, and the other of
the trunks and gnarled branches.
As if by prearrangement, at two oclock, when I reached the top
of the divide, the rain stopped. The sun burst through the clouds,
filling the air with a profusion of rainbows from the drops of water
clinging to the twigs and tendrils and strands of moss. The myriad
moss-draped caves in the roots of the trees lost their yawning
gloom, and each became an Aladdins treasure cave. The upper
branches of the humpbacked trees sparkled with orchids and other
flowering plants. The scene was terrifying in its splendor. No won
der the priests had named one of their flying monsters Mountain
Pass.
My smarting cane-leaf cuts, fatigue, and clammy clothes were
forgotten in a moment, but I could not have endured the consum
ing desolation of the scene for long. I drank the little gourd of
bast which Chirps Uncle Upstream had given me to sacrifice to
the flying monster of the pass and which he had charged me not
to drink at any other place. Then I started down, half afraid to
look back upon its writhing, insane splendor. The moss-carved
troughs, flumes, crosses, gibbets, towers, and grottoes soon gave
way to ferns and pine trees, and the springy carpet underneath
turned into slippery mud. By three oclock the cold rain again fell
in torrents.
Where the trail crossed a little spur, I caught a glimpse of the
252
country below and saw, a long way off, what I took to be the vil
lage of Loo. The rain had delayed me at least three hours. If it
swelled the streams below, I would have only a slim chance of
reaching Loo by nightfall. The thought set me off down the trail
at a dogtrot. At least now when I fell, which was frequently, I
could slide along toward my destination, instead of back toward
my starting point.
The flying monster of the pass seemed responsible for this added
speed, and I only wished the priests had thought to soften the snags
I sat down on, as well as those on which my foot trod in my jour
ney.
Sometimes I had to vault the stray limb or creeper which barred
the path, sometimes I slid under it. Cutting was too slow. At other
times I had to stop against it or twist loose from it, leaving bits of
my clothing if there were thorns. Once I felt the ground tremble
under my feet. The idea that there was a ghost flashed across
my mind. I whirled and grabbed an overhanging bush. The soggy
trail under me gave way for thirty feet, sending rocks and logs
booming down the precipitous canyon. As I crept along above the
place where the trail had been, I hardly knew which god to thank
that I had not been carried down with them. With rain like this,
no wonder the Ifugao mentioned landslides, rocks, and falling
trees in their prayers when they thought of traveling.
It was getting dark when the trail leveled out and I was con
fronted with the first stream of any size. It was so wide I could
not see the opposite bank, but it appeared shallow. With the
first step into it, however, I sank breast-deep. There was nothing
to do but wait for daylight. The Negritos would have built a
shelter, but in the darkness, I was not equal to it. Munching the
parched corn, I found the partial shelter of an overhanging rock,
wrapped the tent around me, and soon shivered myself to sleep.
The next morning I found a trail that led upstream to where the
small river split up, and was able to cross on fallen trees and rocks.
The downstream crossing could not be used when the water was
high. By ten oclock I limped into Loo, hardly like the runo plume
waving in the breeze which Amambay had described in his prayer,
but glad to get there all the same. At the local store, where tinned
motor oil and gasoline were sold, I inquired where I could find a
barber, and was directed to a bamboo shack npar-by. The barber
was out in the fields, but his daughter set out at once to get him,
253
and his wife agreed to mend my torn clothing. So little of the cloth
was left on the seat of my riding breeches that we decided to cut
off the legs to mend the seat.
Everything worked out smoothly. Since I had to retire to the
bathhouse to give her my trousers, I was able to take a bath and
attend to my many scratches while I waited. There was no tub,
but I did find a big earthen jar of clear, cool water, a bamboo dip
per, and some yellow laundry soap. Soon the barber came and
helped me out with the scratches I could not reach and trimmed
my hair. By the time we had finished, I looked like a mercurochrome-colored Indian from head to foot.
By noon I was back at the store, dressed in shorts which made me
look a little as though I were a yogi and had sat on my legs so
long that their imprint had been indelibly stamped on the seat of
my pants. As I waited for the one-bus-a-day, which was supposed
to leave for Cervantes at noon but which I was assured was always
an hour or two late, a prosperous-looking American drove up in
a shiny car, with a smartly dressed woman at his side. A mining
engineer from some near-by American property, I concluded. It
seemed ages since I had seen an American. I wanted to caress the
shiny car, to shout for joy and throw my arms around its occupants,
but I felt shy, as though they were the high priests of a ceremony,
and I was just a casteless urchin. I spoke to the man, as the contents
of a five-gallon tin of gasoline were transferred to his tank. He
was going to Cervantes. The back seat of the car was empty and
looked smooth and very soft.
Ive got a ticket for the bus, I remarked casually, but it will
probably have a cushionless wooden seat thats very hard.
If you hadnt already taken the precaution of having the seat
of your pants half-soled, Id insist that you come along with us,
he said, with an amused smile. His wife shot me a sympathetic
glance, and then they were swallowed up in dust.
I found myself murmuring, in reverse, the Ifugao prayer about
landslides, rolling rocks, and snags, to help him on his journey.
When I arrived at Cervantes, I got a lift on a battered pickup
truck bound for a plantation in the vicinity of Angaki, which was
on my route north. The ride was almost as wild as my trip down
from the divide the day before, and left me bruised in a lot of
new places. Twice we forded a little stream, which the driver told
me was the Abra River. Even in the five miles between our first and
254
second crossings it had grown noticeably. The second time, the

four assistant drivers and myself had to struggle with poles and
ropes to get the truck across and then had to fuss with it for an
hour, drying out the carburetor, to get it chugging again.
As I crossed and recrossed the Abra River in the next two days
hike to Anopel, it seemed to increase miraculously in size at every
mile of the twenty which I covered. At a ferry near Anopel, I
ran across some men who were cutting bamboo poles which they
floated down to the village of Patoc, some five miles away, for
housebuilding. They made the large thirty-foot-long poles into
six pole rafts, laying them flat on the riverbank and boring holes
through them at each end, through which they passed heavy rat
tan loops which they lashed to short hardwood crosspieces. Two
men, with long poles, had to ride each raft to steer it away from the
rocks in the rapids and to push it along in the quiet stretches of the
river.
For half a peso they agreed to build a little bamboo frame in the
center of one of the rafts, on which I could sit and rest my pack.
Since I had caught glimpses of the growing river a hundred times
and longed to see its banks from the center of the stream, I was
very pleased with the project. The ride was exhilarating, and more
lovely than I had imagined it could be, but the extra weight on
the raft made it more difficult to manage than the rest. In the rough
water the waves began to lap against my little platform, and the
boatman lashed my pack to it to prevent its being washed off; but
this was a fatal error. Before we had gone another mile, the raft
caught on a rock in the sweeping curve of the river and overturned.
All three of us were able to catch hold of the sides of the raft. Re
leased from our weight, it slid along the rocks, but when it scraped
clear, the platform and my pack were gone. In the muddy water,
we never even caught a glimpse of it again.
I had lost my tent, the medicine kit, the knapsack, and all the
data on the Emotional Response Test from the Negritos on, except
for the compilations I had already made in my notebooks.
We climbed back on the raft. The vine-covered shores of the
river took on a sinister aspect as I philosophized away the loss of
the hundreds of hours of work that the river had swallowed up.
We landed without further mishap. The next day I reached
Bokai and was welcomed by Julios relatives. They informed me
255
that he had been delayed and would not be back for a week or
two, but had made arrangements for me to stay with them until
his return. He had met Dr. Perez, who had been north on an
inspection trip of the vocational schools, and had mentioned that
Perez had inquired about me. Apparently this had made a deep
impression on his aunt and uncle, and I was accepted as an honored
guest.
The villagers had heard of my dream collections and mental
tests from relatives and from the children who had attended the
high school at Bangued. By the afternoon of my first days stay,
neighbors and friends of the family were dropping in to tell me of
strange dreams they had had, of spirit possessions, and of miracles
that had happened in the vicinity.
The next morning, Philipe and Christopher, two boys of the
household, brought me a lad named Jose from a near-by village.
He was about seventeen years old, and so weak and emaciated that
he had to be supported as he talked. They told me that he was a
victim of black magic. They had heard from Bangued of my pos
session by the sopot demon, and Julio had told them that I had
charms or my own by which I controlled familiar spirits. They
appealed to me to help the boy, who was a retainer of their half
uncle. A few months before, he had lost his appetite and his ability
to retain what food he did eat. He had always been shy and more
interested in working than in playing with the other boys. Every
one thought that he was possessed by a mountain spirit, for he had
a habit of going to the mountains alone, with his water buffalo, to
bring down wood. When his friends went to the witch doctor who
had cured me of the sopot, she told them that a certain man in a
neighboring village had cast a spell over the lad. For a fee she
agreed to break it. But in spite of her countermagic, the boy had
become steadily worse.
They were looking to me as a last resort. Fortunately, Jose had
been to school for four years and had a fair knowledge of English.
I asked him to close his eyes and see a picture of something that
was good to eat.
I am not hungry, he answered promptly. I hate food. 1 can
not swallow.
The Negrito shamans would have said that this was the boys
demon talking, since he was obviously starving. They would have
labeled it the not-hungry demon, and asked it to give him more
256
words for a song, to furnish the steps of an accompanying dance,

and to keep on repeating it until he had memorized it. Then they
would have asked the spirit for more verses of the song. They
would have invited the spirit to stop squeezing his stomach and
become his spirit guide. They would have threatened it with at
tack from their own spirit guides if it did not co-operate.
Sing the words you just said, and the spirit will give you
more words of its song, I said.
He singsonged the words a time or two, writhing and trembling,
then cringed and relaxed as though a blow had knocked him un
conscious. Now he failed to answer me. He had gone into a deep
trance. If I had not seen the Negrito shamans lose contact with
their subjects in a similar manner, I would have thought he was
dead. Patiently I went on suggesting that he would see something
for which he was hungry. At last his lips moved. He sees a coco
nut, said the boys excitedly.
Your mouth is beginning to water, I said. You are hungry for
the coconut milk.
Jose gave a loud scream and his deathlike body came to life.
Save me! Save me! he moaned. She is going to eat me. A snake
is growing from her breast. It is wrapping around me. It is a python.
It can crush out my life and cover me with spit and swallow me
up.
Let it swallow you, I urged.
The writhing motions gradually quieted. Now he was whisper
ing phrases which made no sense even to the boys. I kept urging
him to speak louder, to sing the phrases and develop the jerky
spasms into a dance. The phrases became more singsong, but he
failed to control the spasms which accompanied them.
Perhaps the many trance states the Negritos saw as they were
growing up prepared them, as suggestion alone could not, to get
music and rhythm for the spirit words.
Gradually Joses words grew from disjointed phrases into
sentences. The boys said that the python was letting go of him.
He kept calling out the name of a famous midwife in his village.
Now he was pressing his hands against his head, pushing on his
chin, clawing at his throat, and opening his mouth as though try
ing to cry out or struggle for breath. The Negritos would have
said he was emerging from the spirit cave.
257
Where is the woman now? I said. Please tell me about her.

She came out of the coconut when I cut off the end of it, he
said. At first I liked her, but then I saw a worm coming from
her Jeft breast. It got bigger and bigger until it was a python.
The native women sometimes tell their children, when they
wean them, that there are worms in their breasts, said Chris. Jose
is having a dream, but he thinks he is seeing the spirit of the coco
nut tree.
You are stronger than the spirit, Jose, I said. You can make
it your servant. Drink the coconut milk and listen for the spirits
message.
His face wrinkled. The milks bitter, he said.
There, you see, said the lads. He is dreaming. He is tasting
the pigs gall his mother smeared on her breasts when he was
weaned.
I looked at his lips. He did look as though he were nursing.
Please make friends with this dream woman, Jose, I said. She
will give you words for a song.
I hear the goat, he moaned, wringing his hands.
Sing the goats song, I urged.
Tears gathered under his closed lids and ran down his cheeks.
My poor little goat, he wailed. They are going to kill it for the
festival. It is crying. It is afraid. Again he screamed, and his heart
made a tom-tom sound against his ribs. He mumbled and fell back
into his native dialect.
What is he saying? I asked the boys.
His mother has killed his goat, they answered. She is cutting
off its head. The smell of the blood is making him sick.
Joses body stiffened. His stomach kept knotting and a pale-green
ooze came from his lips.
Let him cry and vomit as long as he likes, I said. Then he
may feel hungry.
Gradually he quieted down and his tortured expression became
tranquil.
Please see something that is good to eat, I suggested again.
You are very hungry.
Now the woman is giving me milk from the coconut as she
sings to me, he said.
Remember the song, I urged. And youll feel hungry when
2 5 8
you wake up. Turning to the boys, I asked them to fetch a coco
nut.
We woke up Jose a half hour later. When he opened his eyes,
he looked around him for the coconut we had set by his side, and
drank the milk. When the lads asked him what had happened, he
told them what we had already heard and described the songs the
coconut woman had sung to him with his grandmothers voice. We
agreed with him that from now on he would be a medicine man.
People would come to ask him about planting coconut trees, and
he would make coconut charms against all demons who upset mans
stomach.
I did not see Jose again, but a few days later, I suddenly thought
I was looking at his ghost. Walking with a soft-footed tread, an old
woman approached the table where I was having lunch. Her agile
movements and her long skinny arms gave her the appearance of
a gibbon. She was scarcely less thin than Jose, and she looked
enough like him to be his twin, except for the appearance of great
age. Across her skinny shoulders she was carrying a huge stalk
of bananas, which she set on the floor beside me. Then she jabbered
at me in dialect, struggling harder and harder to put her meaning
into her eyes and gestures, with an expression which seemed comi
cal to me.
Everyone around the table spoke at once. She was very poor.
This stalk of bananas, which she had brought as a present, was all
she possessed. She was giving it to me because I had changed her
starving son into a medicine man. She had walked for miles carry
ing the bananas and was making a great sacrifice.
Her tears had washed little rivulets through the dirt on her
sunken cheeks. She stood sniveling, arranging the rags that fur
nished scant covering for her emaciated body. Between the ragged
folds of her scarecrow costume appeared the pendulous end of
one sagging breast. Shocked, I looked back at her face. The curious
expression of her eyes, peeking at me through her skinny fingers,
made her appear incredibly funny. But I simply must not laugh.
I bowed my head and murmured, It was nothing. It was noth
ing. I had said the wrong thing, only spurring her efforts at pan
tomimed communication to still greater heights. Fortunately, at
this moment a servant appeared with food for her. With fantastic,
loose-jointed gestures, she grasped my hand and covered it with
kisses and muddy tears.
259
Two days later I set out with the boys for the climb to the top of
the crag above the Abrathe expedition that ended so dramatically
when I was caught by the river current and hurled through its
rapids and whirlpools to the quiet pool below.
TWENTY-TWO
The Trail Back
Jl V s time passed and I became

more convinced of my own sanity and was able to view the events
of the expedition in the perspective of my total past, I became
convinced that I might never find any direct reasons for the guilt
I had felt in the rapids. The feeling itself was too vast, too difficult
to get a grip on. But the vision of my mother, the hallucination
which was part of the event, might lead me to some understand
ing of it. A number of experiences came to mind which might
explain or lead up to the radiant face I had fashioned from the
pattern of the cloud. The moonlike transformation of the face of
the Negrito shamaness, the white marble into which Olans figure
had been changed, my conviction that the actual moon had become
enraged and smashed her miror into the rice terraces, and the cloud
witch Jabon had seen in possession of me, now appeared to me as
steps which had led to the discovery of this avenging-angel image
of my mother, the focus of my feeling of self-rejection. The cata
ract of blood I had seen in the early morning from the granite cliff,
the fatigue of tramping through the bottom mud, the bat stench
of the gloomy interior of the cave, and the crazy excitement re260
THE TRAIL BACK
26l
leased by the increasing roar of the river as we traveled down

stream, might well have served as further steps in preparation for
the hallucination which I had experienced.
But I would have to search deeper than any of these to find the
reason for the disproportionate sense of guilt, to explain my over
whelming conviction of unpardonable sin. And now there was a
further mystery as I remembered emerging from the eternity of
blackness into the bubbling water of the river pool called the
Mother of Fountains. As the memory of that blackness had been
swallowed up by the light of the afternoon sun, like the tail of a
snake disappearing down a hole, I had felt an utter and complete
freedom from any sense of guilt at all.
Now I knew that, like the Negrito shaman, I would have to
search for the answer to these mysteries inside myself, beyond the
events in my past life which had an obvious connection with them.
I would have to search deeper and deeper into the store of expe
rience I had accumulated since my creation or conception as an
individual.
When I climbed from the pool below the rapids and began to
walk slowly back toward the village, wearing the banana leaf which
I had secured about my middle with a bit of vine, and with my bare
feet digging into the moist, warm earth of the trail, I felt at one
with the sky, the trees, the air, and the sounds that came through
the afternoon haze from the jungle and the distant village. The
whirlpool had broken down some barrier inside me. For awhile, at
least, I was free from that merciless drive to grasp for the un
known, as though to escape something inside myself. Perhaps I
had always been afraid of hearing that deep earthquake sobbing
which had come up to me from the bottom of the rapids.
Just the memory of it, and I was sobbing now. Suddenly, I knew
that that sobbing in the river had almost caught up with me in the
typhoon, that I had wanted to cry with the Negritos as they looked
at the seemingly artificial sun and cowered in the cleft to escape
the flying limbs and crashing trees. Instead of accepting my fear
and expressing it as they did, I had allowed it to accumulate inside,
causing the inner shock and breakdown which showed up as sopotsopot. As I had listened to the Negritos and felt the tingling shock
of the lightning that came too close, I had been aware of no tend
ency to cry with them or to recall any of my sins, as they did.
262
The mere possibility of dying at any minute had not made me

remember, let alone regret, any sins that I had ever committed.
It had taken the certainty of death to unleash the sorrow for sin
that I had felt in the rapids; and even then I repented only one sin.
The sobs said, Why do you thus murder yourself? Even then
I had felt not sorrow or regret, so much as hatred and self-loathing.
I had got myself in the rapids and thrown away a lifetime, past and
future.
Now I found myself crying as though all the sobs I had ever
heard had entered me and frozen inside, and were melting one
by one. Remembering the primitive ceremonies, I concluded that
every man must put his life in jeopardyby taking a head, or mu
tilating his body, or symbolically dying in ceremonies or in dreams
and must then experience rebirth, to neutralize the sins and sor
rows of the world which he absorbed or internalized, along with
the images of things and people, as he grew up.
Certainly I had learned something about revelation on my jour
ney, as I had listened to the dreams and trance experiences of the
people I had met. But only the experience of revelation, the hallu
cination of the faces in the cloud and the voices in the rapids, had
succeeded in forcing the vastness of the dream world up into my
fully wakeful mind. Here I had learned something about mans
inner state of balance that tied together many of the things I had
seen on my journey. Although man could exist with some of his
inner systems out of balance, resulting in tensions or physical ill
ness, there was a point of imbalance where he would break apart
and cease to function as a rational human being.
In the typhoon the Negritos had become irrational. They had
been certain that their god, Tolandian, was angry at them. By
tearing their hair and slashing their thighs they expressed the anger
of their god, as though the deity were inflicting his punishment
through their hands.
Using the accumulated experience of their respective groups,
the various peoples I had seen strove in the best way they knew
to maintain their sense of inner balance and to grow in their powers
to deal with people and things from day to day, and to meet crises.
The Negritos cut themselves and tore out their hair, the head
hunters took a head, to avoid the kind of shock that I had suffered
in the rapids.
These ceremonies gave them a way of releasing inner pressure,
THE TRAIL BACK
2 6 3
gave them something to attack when the real source of their mis
fortune was unknown to them or out of reach. The ceremonies of
the Negritos, however, directed them to suffer pain themselves, to
sacrifice their own hair and blood, while elsewhere the ceremonies
led to the torture and sacrifice of animals and other men.
As a social mechanism for restoring inner balance, the simple
little ceremony which the Negrito originated when he stubbed his
toe on a root made much more sense to me than head-hunting or
the ceremonial starving and torture of animals. The lad who orig
inated this ceremony used it as a method of co-operating with an
accident-prone enemy force inside himself and of socializing that
force.
However, those who inherited the ceremony would be acting
as though this particular enemy force were also inside them. Here,
it seemed to me, was the fatal error of these inherited ceremonies.
We who went with Igun to appease the spirit of the crooked root
did not, in fact, have inside ourselves his enemy force and pattern.
As we left our tobacco at the crooked root and visualized Iguns
bent old man, we created the spirit of the crooked root inside our
own minds, the graven image of a god who would attack us if
we did not make sacrifices to him in the future. We were creating
a payment deity, like the Bayiads of the Ifugao. This deity might
well keep all kinds of accidents in bamboo tubes, and uncork them
on us if we did not give him bigger and better sacrifices. In the
West, when children watch their mother throw salt over her
shoulder, they are being saddled with this kind of payment deity.
They believe that this deity will visit future calamity on them if
they do not make him such a sacrifice whenever salt is spilled. If
only the essence of the salt were given to the god and the material
salt were given to a salt priest, the priest would have a vested in
terest in keeping the ceremony alive and might even announce,
obtaining his information through the diviners, that people often
spilled salt when they did not realize they were doing so, or that
a pinch of salt was not enough to appease the gods.
The lineage head who was ordered off the land by the earth
demon at the funeral feast in Bataan, might have been directed in
his dream to propitiate the earth demon as Igun was directed to
appease the demon of the crooked root. If the earth demon had
demanded my head as sacrifice, the Matungulonthe Pay-backable
type of deitymight have been created in the minds of all the rest
264
of the Negritos and functioned like the Pay-backables of the

Ifugao.
I could now see that all of the other orders of Ifugao gods existed
in embryo in the ceremonies of the Negritos. When chronic
physical or mental illness led the Negrito to become a shaman, or
the Ifugao woman to become a halag, or the priest to seek posses
sion through his dreams and the ministration of his fellows who
had inherited a way of dealing directly with the inner forces which
made him ill, the patient often recovered and himself became a
healer.
The thing that vexed me was the manner in which the quality
of the healing deteriorated, as I traced it up along the rungs of
technical progress from the Negritos to the Ifugao. As the so
cieties became less democratic, and as they were able to create a
greater surplus of food and goods, healing became more entangled
in politics and carried a greater and greater burden of the payment
type of deity. And a greater and greater share of the payment went
to the leaders who were the go-betweens for the payment deities.
Among the Ifugao, the priest who recovered from illness by
contacting his own enemy forces in trance did not receive the
creative dividend that Igun had received. The energy released was
apparently expended in learning the names of more gods, his
obligation to them, their place among the other gods, and their
customary way of reacting toward the gods, toward other peo
ple, and toward himself. Once he had contacted the messenger
deities, his dreams and visions became more stereotyped. The peo
ple he treated for their minor ills with the aid of these deities, those
who were not driven to seek help through trance possession, also
tended to develop the same stereotypesto see the priests, the
gods, and ancestors contending in their dreams.
That is why their answers, in my test collections of dreams,
emotional experiences, and fantasies, included endless repetition of
their ceremonial experiences. In all the groups men only became
well and emotionally mature as they themselves became healers.
In all the groups, the dream or trance being which spontaneously
appeared to serve the individual who was having the dream or
vision became a burden, rather than a helper, to those who ac
cepted the pattern as a spiritual force for their own lives.
My vision, and my work with visions, had made me realize that
the images of people in my mind were not people, but things; and
THE TRAIL BACK
265
that if these images were attached to negative feelings or emo

tions in myself, such as fear or pain or rage, they had become a
liability to me and to anyone else who would accept them as any
thing but troublesome things which I should be helped to get rid
of.
While collecting the dream drawings of the Negritos, I had
noted a tendency, especially among the shamans, to put the dream
ers image near the center of the paper and to arrange the other
dream characters around it. As I studied the drawings I fell into
the habit of thinking of the UI of the dreamer as the center, and
the other characters as the border. Since they depicted the man
looking at and .interacting with his dream creations, I soon came
to regard the two parts of the drawings as the center and the border
of the self.
Now it was possible to see how set ceremonies would strengthen
the border against the center of the personality as it was depicted
in these dream drawings, and how the shamanistic healing cere
monies would strengthen the center against the border, the I
of the dreamer against the other dream characters.
The dreams of patients undergoing prolonged shamanistic treat
ment often included the shaman as a dream character working
with one or more of the other dream characters in the interest of
the central I, either serving the I of the dream directly or op
posing other dream characters which were hostile toward the
dreamer. The shamans image and the spirit guides already de
veloped in the course of the treatment worked in the interest of
the center, and the central I gained power because of this sup
port and because these characters progressively weakened the bor
der characters which opposed the I.
When the Negrito lineage head responded to the dream in which
he was attacked by the earth demon merely by moving off the land
as the demon directed, the I and all its allies were weakened. The
central I had withdrawn from the border, and had therefore
started or strengthened the habit of withdrawal. Ceremonies which
attached a hierarchy of gods to a dream character, all of whom
were thought to be more powerful than the dreamer, would still
further weaken the I in its struggle against the border.
Now I found my mind playing with some of the strange, in
explicable things which had occurred when I had asked sick peo-
266
pie in trance what they saw. They had often described colors.
Among all the groups in the central mountains, I had noticed the
same trends which had showed up among the Negritos. There was
a consistency about the colors described which indicated that the
color associations were not a feature of any particular culture. If
the patient was suffering from a headache, he reported purple or
some other combination of red and blue. When the subject suffered
from abdominal pains, yellow was always part of the color de
scribedsome shade of brown, orange, or dark green, running
into black, was selected. I also noticed that the most terrifying
images were either black or radiant white, like the moon. This
was true of both dreams and trance states.
These findings made me suspect that emotion comes up into the
mind of man as colorthat red is associated with mans aggres
siveness and euphoria, as the Negritos claimed; that blue, yellow,
and green are characteristic of the receptive side of his personality,
and that purple and brown represent some sort of inner shortcircuiting of his aggressive-receptive systems which leads to pain
and malfunction; that white and black represent absolutes of good
and bad, which cannot be unified with the major personality with
out the sense of psychic death and rebirth of which the mystics
speak, that areas of the personality represented by black and radiant
white will usually remain rigidly set off by themselves and in
habited by the gods unless society develops a socially functioning
therapeutic mechanism by which the individual can be assisted in
the process of accepting these terrifying forces or parts of his
inner kingdom.
Of all the dreams and revelations I had heard or experienced, the
coming together of the black and the radiant-white images in my
own hallucination in the rapids seemed by far the most significant.
I could not determine what kind of dance I would do if I were a
Negrito to express the freezing, annihilating self-hatred and con
demnation I had felt upon seeing the radiantly beautiful cloud
image of my mother, when I had charged myself with the greatest
of all crimes of which I could conceiveself-murder; when I
had known that I was completely and utterly and absolutely bad;
when I had felt the rhythm of life inside me freezing, slowing down,
and stopping completely.
I would not know how to portray the darkening of that radiant
image as it lost its effulgent glow like a burning, white coal turn
THE TRAIL BACK
2 6 7
ing black on the hearth, and how to show the vague animal-like
expression in the bulging eyes of the starving Joses mother, de
termined to say something, determined to say with mute gestures
and sheer force of emotion that I was not completely and utterly
bad, that my whole life had not been wasted, since through my
efforts her son had come back to life. I could never dance the
bursting of that inner ice jam and the crazy, weird journey through
the whirlpool to the Mother of Fountains. No dance or ceremony
of which I could conceive would suffice to express the conviction
which was now settling upon me that the human being, having been
saved by his mother from the whirlpool of birth, could never get
away from the sense of guilt until he had again tasted of or ac
cepted death.
Like all men I was guilty of wishing to live my own life, to exer
cise free agency. I was facing what I accepted as certain death, yet
all the fear the situation released had at first stayed inside my vis
cera and my nervous system and found no way out to my muscles,
as though I had never been born, as though I had never learned to
use my body at all. The sense of guilt had not helped me to solve
any problems; it had paralyzed me; it had made me in no way good
or useful there in the rapids. Could this be what the mystics de
scribed as the coming into consciousness of original sin?
The radiant mother who had made me feel I was utterly bad
because I had exercised free agency, and the brown woman who
had said I was deserving of worship, adoration, tears, and moans
of gratitude, also because I had exercised free agency, had come
together in that moment of shock and had created a tremendous
emotional release.
Perhaps the pent-up destructive impulses of the head-hunters
were released through the torture of a dog or a chicken and the
taking of heads, because the ceremonial identified these sacrifices
with the black or white nightmare characters in each individual.
Perhaps the beating of dogs and the taking of heads enabled these
people to release their intense self-hatred by destroying images
which, while the ceremony was performed, symbolized in their
minds the unclean or unacceptable things inside the self.
These ceremonial outlets, however, all fell short of therapy. In
a sense they created the very problem which they solved. They
perpetuated infantile tendencies and animistic ways of thinking,
and attached the individuals sense of guilt to every object in the en
268
vironment or every name in the hierarchies of ancestors and gods.

As I thought about it, I was seized with the conviction that
Christian ideas had bridged the gap in my mind between death and
rebirth, enabling the image of the Filipino woman to start my
heart beating again. Perhaps it was my knowledge of Christian
revelation and my experience with shamanistic healing which had
broken down the inner deadlock. Without this bridge, perhaps I
would have sunk like a stone, dead of fear, before I ever reached the
whirlpools. Then I would not even have had the satisfaction of
knowing that it was fear which was killing me, because that lethal
fear had been twisted by my mothers image into self-hatred and
condemnation.
Among the Ifugao, whose primitive caste system split society
into layers comparable to those of Hindu and nondemocratic
Western societies, the crushing sense of guilt which I had felt in
the whirlpool, apparently operated on the leaders of society when
ever any change in the social structure was envisaged. The Ifugao
could not plant two crops of rice a year. The balance of forces
inside themselves would be destroyed if they looked at the un
known, as the balance had been destroyed in me when I peered at
the whirlpool over the silver-crested ripples of the rapids. Be
cause their ceremonial attached all the layers of society to the
layers in their own socially structured minds, anything that
threatened to change the structure of society would release panic,
concealed by hatred, in them; just as the change from stones to
water under my feet had affected me. The fear and hatred released
would be directed toward the graven images of unclean things in
the minds of the leaders, which, in this case, would represent
threatening authority, such as a powerful foreign country, or the
socially inferior elements of their own society who were foment
ing change in the social structure. Their hatred in the teeth of the
unknown would not be directed at their inner selves, as mine had
been, or at their own bodies, as was the hatred of the Negritos in
the typhoon, but at the liberal members of society, or at the mem
bers of the alien society who pointed out that two crops of rice a
year would give them more to eat.
These thoughts were depressing. I could not envisage any basic
social change in any society until its methods of psychotherapy or
emotional education had created a wide sprinkling of individuals
who were no longer dependent on the type of ceremonial that
divided the personality into parts and released the emotions, as did
THE TRAIL BACK
2 6 9
the bloodletting of the Negritos, the chicken-beating ceremony of

the Bontocs, the head ceremony of the Ilongots, and the riceincreasing ceremonies of the Ifugao.
Since my earliest childhood, I had heard that there should be
no strata in society, that all men were brothers, but as I grew up,
I had come to regard this as a view based on religion, not psy
chology and sociology. My experience with the Ifugao was giving
to this old religious doctrine the validity of a new scientific princi
ple, applying both to the structure of the personality and to the
structure of society. The radiantly white graven image of my
mother had worked against me in the rapids, just as the Ifugao
priest, with the help of the gods, worked against rationally guided
change in his society. The image of the stupid old black woman,
no higher than a slave in the social scale of my mind, had worked
for me, once the radiant image of my mother had lost its power
to keep her down in the underworld of my personality, where I
had, since childhood, discarded the images of people whom I con
sidered socially inferior to myself.
As an individual, I had not discovered and accepted these graven
images and discarded models until I was faced with what I thought
was certain death in the whirlpool. Some inner wisdom had brought
the white, radiant mother and the black, ridiculous, witchlike
image together in this supreme moment of crisis in a way which
did not happen in the ceremonially guided adaptations to crises in
the various societies I had observed.
The society did not become more adaptable in moments of stress.
The Negritos tore out their hair and stabbed their thighs. The
Ifugao had more rice-increasing ceremonies, in which they used
up their slender store of animals and paid higher fees to the priests.
The Ilongots took more heads. In times of stress they worked to
gether better, but this working together was not guided by the
inner wisdom of the individual, nor could it be unless the leaders,
at least, were encouraged by the patterns of culture which they
received from the past to look at and solve an outer problem in the
present, instead of using past ceremonies to release their emotions
against people and animals who were not responsible for their
troubles.
The simplicity of the Negrito social structure made the psy
chological processes which created ceremonies stand out clearly.
The dream-trance revelations threw light on the origin of the emo
tional needs which the ceremonies satisfied. The difference be
27O
tween the spontaneous ceremony and the inherited ceremony

showed how the individual could build dreams and ceremonies to
fit his needs, and how that same type of need could be related to,
or built into, fixed ceremonies which were already established.
The startling thing to me, as I walked along the jungle trail, so
shaded by interlocking branches that the afternoon sunshine
changed to twilight, was the way in which the spontaneously
created patterns reinforced the integrity of the individual as he
projected himself into the group, like sunshine filtering through a
tree, whereas the set ceremony sapped away his individual in
tegrity as it related him to the group, and made him more and
more dependent on forces which he, as an individual, could not
control. It progressively undermined that divine balancing quality
which produced a self-regulating, self-determining individual, tak
ing away, rather than building up, what the mystics had called free
agency.
Now as I walked along through the cathedral-like columns
formed by the giant trees, I felt the world had grown larger. The
experience in the whirlpool had broken things up in my mind and
allowed them to fit together in a new way, which attached them
more firmly to my feelings. Suddenly I realized that I was released
from a lifelong suspicion that the worst that could happen was
about to happen at any moment. In its place was the feeling that
the best that could happen was already taking place. Now I was
giving a different answer to the question, What is the best thing
that could happen? than I had given in Manila. I was filled with
the conviction that the best thing that could happen was to be
alive.
And there was no end to life which I could picture. Long ago
I had accepted annihilation at death as a probabilityabsolute,
complete, utter annihilation. But now annihilation no longer had
its old meaning. I had experienced annihilation as I looked at the
gleaming, twisting, convulsive monster which writhed beneath the
scarred face of the cliff below me in the rapids. And what was
annihilation? Now it was a miraculous symphony of surging
thought and feeling, a rebirth. What was life after death? It was
perhaps still annihilation, but the void of annihilation was now
filled with something that had the quality of joyous life.
TWENTY-THREE
Universal Man
JL.HE months of work and

thought since I had left Manila had increased my feeling of re
ligious awe at the vastness and intricacy of the kingdom inside mans
skin, the universe which was man himself. And I had made other
advances. At least I was now convinced that there was a universal
man, that the children of all races could be safely credited with
my own childhood motives, feelings, and emotions. In every group
there would be some who thought faster than others, and who
developed a greater or smaller capacity than the average to deal
with abstractions. But everywhere the results of the individual
mental tests would arrange themselves on the same normal curve
of distribution which had been observed in the West.
Now, knowing there was a universal man, I would have to admit
that I was he. I was the Negrito, the llongot, the Ifugao, and the
American. At the center I was the same in all these groups. The
tests had shown that. Soon I would be back in Manila. The test re
sults would convince my friends that the I, the universal man, was
the same in childhood in all the groups I had visited. How could
I depict the ways in which the universal man in the various groups
7
* *
272
evolved with the help of the dreams, the shamans ceremonies, the
seances, the crooked root, the typhoon, the dog-starving, the
chicken-bleeding, the head-hunting, and the rice-increasing? How
could I explain to Mrs. Hartendorp what the various cultures did
to my universal man? How could I explain what culture had done
to her, to the universal being beneath the images she had built up
inside her skin since she was conceived? She and the others had
understood or appreciated the account of my preoccupation with
the egg, of how my feeling of unity, of oneness, of identity, gave
me the power to imagine what the egg felt as oneness or identity
and what the egg felt as it created a secondary conflicting in
dividual or center inside its skin in response to the biologists beam
of light. Probably they would also be able to go with me on this
further voyage, when I said, I, Negrito dreamer, see an earth
demon who tells me that I and my fellows must cease to change
the surface of the earth.
This would mean that I, the dreamer, plus all of the images built
up by the individuals of the social group I have known, do not
have power in my dream to outface or control the earth-demon
individual or image of the dream. Since the Negritos had, in fact,
moved off the land they were clearing, and abandoned the project
because of this dream, it would mean further that I, a social chief
of the Negrito horde, plus all the individuals who accept my guid
ance in the workaday world, do not have, or at least do not exer
cise, the power to undo the memory of my dream and to do what
we wish even while we are awake.
This would indicate that I, the Negrito, do not own the images
of the ordinary things and people with whom I work from day
to day, to the same extent that I, the American, own them; I, the
Negrito, do not own the images of the trees, the land, the streams,
and the rocks well enough to be able to rearrange them in my
abstract thinking, draw a map of the way I have rearranged them,
and then set out with confidence to change these features of the
environment to correspond to my plan and my map. I, the Negrito,
do not own the images, the living photographs, which I have built
up inside my skin. They may block me at any point in my reflec
tive thought, in the drawing of the plan, or in its execution. I, the
Negrito, do not even own the images in my mind of the blades
of grass and the shrubs, and must ask their permission if I wish
to spit. They are not powerful as individuals, but these little men
UNIVERSAL MAN
273
of the ground are numerous. It is easier to change the crust of the
outside earth than it is to change the image of the earths crust
which resides inside my skin.
I, the Negrito, have no right to sit down on a rock or lean against
it, or even to disturb its solitude. I have no right to kick, even ac
cidentally, the root of a tree with my bare toe. The pain I create,
along with my whispered apology to the tree, may not persuade
it to forgive me for my clumsiness. Perhaps the image of the rock
I have leaned against or disturbed, or of the root I have kicked,
will appear in my dream and demand that I return on awakening
and leave material payment. Perhaps it will even demand that the
group join me in sacrificing time and things of value to release the
pressure it exerts in my psyche.
This would indicate that the rock and the tree own me, at least
that part of me which is occupied by their images. It would in
dicate that I, the Negrito, get smaller and more impotent and more
hemmed in each time I add another of the images of outside things
which I build up inside my skin. Instead of learning to think as I
grow older, I learn how the tree, the rock, the snake, and the bee
behave, and how people behave. I learn to respect the images of
all these things, to fear their power, and to govern my actions ac
cording to their individual tendencies, rather than to manipulate
them as facets of my own psyche.
I can remember how my living photographs behave well enough
to be under the tree when its fruit ripens or when its crevices are
full of honey, to be on the ground at a certain place when the tubers
ripen, to be on the pig runs when the piglets are half grown. I
am propelled about my territory by my memory of these things.
I cannot rudely shuffle them about and rearrange them to answer
questions of foreigners about this time layer or that time layer of
my mind, so foreigners say I have no memory.
I, the Negrito, have learned to protect myself from the earth,
plant, and animal spirits by finding out in dreams and visions what
they wish me to do and then doing it. Then, if they still punish
me, I have learned, with the help of the shamans, to attack and
destroy or transmute them in my dreams and visions.
I, Ilongot branch of universal man, am like the Negrito in many
ways,'but I have learned to till the land and to build wooden
houses. The earth demon allows me to change the earth, and the

*74
tree demon allows me to use the wood, because for the life I take
from the earth and the tree, I give back human life in the form of
blood and heads. This practice separates the images of men in
my mind into blood kin, who do not turn against me, and the re
mainder of the human family, any of whom I may use as sacrifices,
but who at any moment may kill me.
I, the Ilongot, am somewhat dependent on the food I obtain
through cultivating the land, but I cannot protect myself by at
tacking the earth and plant demons. To till the soil, I must ring the
trees and burn them for my clearings. I must plant and harvest. The
earth, tree, and plant demons do not like this, but my ancestors
discovered that they will accept sacrifices of human life in ex
change for the life-giving substance which I obtain from them.
I, the Ifugao, cannot protect myself by doing what the earth,

plant, and animal spirits tell me to do. I must change the face of
the earth. I must plant the seeds and use the fruits of the plants.
I must breed the animals for food, regardless of what the spirits
think about it. I am completely dependent on these activities. My
ancestors learned how to do these things from the powerful spirits,
of the sky world. And I will be protected from the earth and sky
spirits if 1 do what my ancestors tell me and make the proper sac
rifices. When I get sick in spite of my efforts to respect and obey
my ancestor spirits, I can find out in dreams and trances what more
I must do in the way of vengeance, magic, prayers, and sacrifices
to get my ancestor spirits to put forth greater efforts to protect
me from the earth and sky spirits.
I, the Kalinga, the Bontoc, the Kankanai, am moving toward
the great miracle of human thought which has established the
high god, the only god, at the center of the mind of the Christian,
the Buddhist, and the Taoist, where it is one with the heart. I am
moving toward the concept of the blood brotherhood of all
humanity, of loving my enemies, of opposing them with good will
so that their images in the border of my mind will work for,
rather than against, the center. I, universal man in all these groups,
am moving away from the old Negrito type of thinking which
makes the image of the tree belong to the tree, rather than to the
man who created the image of the tree in his mind as he looked at
it. Gradually I will learn, as Western man did, that the images by
UNIVERSAL MAN
275
which I am surrounded in my dream are part of me, are mine to
use in my thinking, to rearrange into a blueprint for a future bet
ter than the present which I observe when I am awake.
I, Western man, can examine the nonscientific groups and see
where their therapy is better than my own and why it is better. I
can see how Western man has gained in the control of his environ
ment as he discovered that the images of his dreams and visions were
not the outside world, that they belonged to him rather than to
the things which his mind had photographed. I can see how he has
erred in failing to recognize that these emotionally charged images
of things and people are, nevertheless, real things, things which
both reveal and determine his inner state of beingthe universe
which he is himself.
I, Western branch of universal man, do not have to do what
the earth, plant, animal, or sky spirits tell me to do in my dreams
and visions, or to make sacrifices to them. I profit by the sacrifice
of Jesus Christ, who accepted the knowledge of the wise men from
the East and the shamans of Israel. I do not protect myself by giv
ing way to, or compromising with, earth, sky, or ancestor spirits,
but relentlessly attack them. I profit by the religious tradition of
breaking up the graven images of the authority of the past.
Western man is protected from the Ifugao tendency to multiply
gods by the example of Jesus Christ, who refused to become a
graven image in the minds of His followers, and said, There is
none good but one, that is, God. He set up the tradition of asking
His followers to destroy His image periodically by symbolically
eating His flesh and drinking His blood.
Western man is also protected from the ancestor gods by this
type of tradition: I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I
am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter
against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-inlaw.
Western man is protected from the Negrito type of demon by
the religious tradition, established by St. Peter, of killing and eat
ing the unclean things of dreams and visions. He is encouraged to
simplify constantly the border of his mind, to recreate the unity
it had in the beginning, before the images of the earth and sky
forms were animated with his spirit and emotions and became
tenants in his psyche, quarreling individuals which use up his force
276
and refuse to help him with his reflective thought. I, Western man,
also profit by the research of the paleontologist, who traces the
creation of my body through some seventy-five miles of sedimen
tary rock, and of the zoologist, who shows me how my body is
related to the animals which stopped evolving and changing their
structure at various stages along the trail my body took, or which
branched off and changed according to a different plan.
I profit by the research work of the biologist and the physiologist,
who demonstrated to me that my physical body began as an egg.
They showed me what happened when the egg was attacked by
the beam of light. They showed me that in the nine months be
tween conception and birth my body dramatized or re-enacted the
hundreds of millions of years of development of my ancestors. I
profit by the work of the philosopher and the psychologist, which
indicates that there is a psychological as well as a physical aspect
to this development.
I profit by the work of the sociologist and the historian, which
enables me to trace the growth of my mind from the Negrito type
of thinking up to the present.
This perspective, which is included in the self-consciousness of
Western man, gives me a point of vantage from which I can see
the other members of the biological family and of the human family
as points on a scale in my own development. In twenty-one years
and nine months I am supposed to complete the physical, mental,
and spiritual growth which the race has taken eons of time to at
tain, and to be in a position as a free agent to carry it forward. From
the point of vantage of Western man I can see that I, universal man,
go through a stage of prenatal development where I am everything
of which I am conscious, through a stage where, like the Negritos,
I create images of things and people from the outside world in the
border of my psych and regard them as my masters, my allies, and
my enemies, and through a further stage where I learn that these
images are a part of me, that if they are not well arranged they
can turn me against the group as a criminal or against myself as
a neurotic or a sufferer of chronic physical illness, or can wall
me in to the point of insanity. On the other hand, if they are well
organized, they can serve as avenues for thought and feeling lead
ing to a past, present, and future which daily become more vast
and more interesting.
I, Western man, can so educate my offspring as to produce the
UNIVERSAL MAN
277
type of maturity in the individual and in the group which I think

is best. I can take responsibility as parent, teacher, priest, or friend
for the behavior of my image in the border of the minds of my
associates. At last I know that it is my words and actions which
determine how my image will function toward the center of
the mind of the child, and which expand that center into a selfcreated, self-reliant, self-regulating individual or turn it into a
slave or enemy of my image.
I, Western scientist, can look at the gods of the Negrito and of
the Ifugao as they express themselves through the entranced
shaman and priest, and through the folk tale, the origin myth, and
the ceremonial procedure in the various groups. I can compare
the behavior of these gods with the behavior of the child at various
ages and with the behavior of the unborn child or of the animals
which correspond to the various stages of development of the un
born child.
Certainly not all of the inspirational revelations I had collected
were valuable as blueprints or plans for social action. Some of
them blocked social change and therefore social progress. Some
even blocked technical progress and the utilization of natural
resources by either the individual or the group. Some led to the
relatively harmless waste of luxury resources, such as a little
tobacco and betel nut, and to relatively harmless attacks upon the
body of the revelator and his followers, such as the pulling out of
hair or the tattooing of the skin, while others led to serious selfinflicted physical mutilation. Still other dreams and revelations led
to the torture of animals and to the taking of the lives of slaves or
of men who were of another lineage or community.
Other revelations did make valuable social contributions to the
individual or the group. The dance and song of Igun enriched the
artistic heritage of the Negrito, and the revelations from Lumawig
gave to the Bontocs a code of ethics and an economic system.
I concluded that man can safely say that all dreams and revela
tions come from the central wisdom which builds up his body and
his personalityfrom the God who is One with mans heart, his
central mind. But man must regard dreams as having two purposes
which are often contradictorythe purpose of purifying and
simplifying the total self, and the purpose of rearranging the images
of the units of society in such a way that they work better both
inside and outside the self, and therefore make a blueprint for a
278
better social future. But since one mans image is another mans
body, since, indeed, his dream or thought pattern may include the
body, mind, and spirit of every member of his group, each pattern
for the future, whether drawn from dreams or from reflective
thought, must be judged on its merits by the revelators con
temporaries and descendants, and accepted or rejected by the
process of consensus in a democratic framework, if man wishes
to make consistent social progress.
I arrived at this conviction because the dreams and revelations
which could not be accepted as a model for social action, even
those which would lead to disaster if followed out on a social level,
still seemed to have value in simplifying, unifying, and reorganiz
ing the border images in the minds of the individuals who expressed
them. In all the groups people recovered from both physical and
mental disorders by telling their dreams and by following out the
policies acceptable to their group which were recommended or
suggested by the dream characters. This was true even though the
systems of dream interpretation were different, in some respects
contradictory. As healing devices, some were much more efficient
and effective than others.
I became convinced, finally, that all dreams and revelations, all
reflective thought and spontaneous creative thinking, might safely
be regarded as revelation from God by those who believe in re
ligion, and as revelation from the gargantuan intelligence which
creates and maintains the physical body by those who do not have
the conviction that their own heart is one with Him who creates
and maintains the universe.
The Western branch of universal man can safely adopt this
attitude and free the creative indwelling wisdom of the body be
cause, at last, we can understand why obsolete, contradictory
images or centers in the border of the mind of the individual must
be destroyed by the process of annihilation or unification as though
they were disease germs.
We can at last differentiate between the spontaneous mental
activity which breaks down and recreates the self, and that which
might serve as a model for a new and better machine or a better
way of doing things in the social world. Mans spontaneous mental
activity could not be regarded as always good until he realized that
the images of his father and his wife were integral parts of him, just
as his lymph and his blood were parts of him, and until he further
UNIVERSAL MAN
279
realized that the spontaneous movement of these images in his

dreams and creative thought was ruled by the same inner wisdom
which caused his lymph and blood to circulate. Until then he could
not realize that the coming together of these images in his dreams
did not constitute a breach of the law of incest, for which he had
to murder his wife or his father or both in order to save the social
group from the rage of the high god, or to kill himself or go insane
because of the conflict between the law of incest and the law of
the blood feud.
Man could not allow his indwelling wisdom to work on the
images, which are photographs of the elements of the social group,
as it did on food and water and oxygen, until he realized that the
elements of his mind were unclean once they had been associated
with his negative emotions, and therefore had to be destroyed be
fore he could become socially knowledgeable and wise.
The mystics who created the great religions have understood
this for a long time. They have warned their disciples that psy
chological wisdom is often the opposite of social wisdom, that the
wisdom of God is foolishness to man. But religious organizations,
like other social institutions, must be perpetuated by the average
man.
Until Western science discovered the all-wise king inside the
egg of the frog, the average man could not believe he had such a
king inside himself, and could not credit his neighbor who drove
the garbage truck with such an indwelling king. The average man
could not believe in the wisdom of his own body until thousands
of physicists, chemists, and mathematicians had worked together
for generations and changed the face of the earth, without, at
the same time, being able to do any one of a million things that the
body of anyone of those scientists or of the average man can ac
complish while he is asleep. The bestiality, sodomy, sex perversion,
murder, cannibalism, and witchcraft to which various individuals
and societies have been led through dreams could have been avoided
if the dreamer had been encouraged to express freely his dreams
and fantasies to authorities who could help him decide where the
indwelling wisdom of the heart was bringing about a unification of
the border images of the mind and where it was inventing social
policiesperhaps better than past ways of doing thingswhich
should be presented for approval to the group involved.
The tensions and chronic illness in all the groups I had visited,
280
and the amuck of the Ifugao, well demonstrated the fact that failure
to express dreams and fantasies which would be antisocial if acted
out did not protect the individual or the group from the spon
taneous activity of the border images of the mind.
As Westerner, I had looked at the shamans dramatizations of
many of the animals which were among the unclean things which
St. Peter saw in the famous vision which changed Christianity from
a Jewish sect into a world religion. In his vision St. Peter was told
to kill and eat these unclean things, much as the Negrito patient
was told to attack and destroy the animal spirits which would not
co-operate in the healing process. Knowing that the wisdom in the
egg had built the physical body of the Negritos, I knew that these
trance expressions might be providing information which even my
Western mind was not yet able to comprehend.
Knowing the pattern of mans development from the egg and
of his way of modifying his original pattern as he built inside his
body the record of the outside universe, I was aware of at least two
different types of things which might be happening in the trance.
The clam god of a shamans dream might represent the return of
the shamans adult mind to an event in childhood when he was
told by an older sister that he must shut up like a clam; or it might
represent a return to a much earlier incident, to an accidentlike
the scientists beam of lightwhich occurred when his body had
developed no further than what might be called the clamlike stage
of prenatal maturation.
I had collected both trance and dream expressions which had
relieved people of physical and mental symptoms, and which
seemed to fall into these categories. At least, I could account for
them as easily in no other way. I had heard the turtle demon speak
to the shaman in the spirit cave on the subject of arthritis. Was it
the wisdom which created the body speaking when the shaman
heard the demon say that because of an agreement entered into
before his birth, he must speak up in the councils of the old men
when their decisions enraged him, and he must fight it out with
his nagging wife and become the man of the family if he wished
to stand up on his hind legs like a man who was a healer and cease
going around on all fours with his back as stiff as a turtle? It seemed
fantastic, yet the question persisted: Had some stimulus, like the
scientists beam of light, penetrated his prenatal world at a time
when he could best protect himself by throwing out a substance
UNIVERSAL MAN
281
which was like a turtles shell and which would serve him for a
skeleton on the outside rather than the inside of his body?
Did all men tend to become stiff in gristle and in muscle, to
regress to an earlier stage of body development, when they pro
tected themselves by building up inner tensions rather than through
creative or aggressive action on the things or people surrounding
them?
The Negrito trance and the Ifugao gods of arthritis and rheuma
tism seemed determined to warn man that it was dangerous for him
to return to animal methods of solving problems when his life
as a human being became difficult. Even though man can react
to his problems like a reptile, a turtle, or a clam, it is not a good
idea for him to solve them in any other way than as a complete man
using all his adult resources.
The trance states made it appear that accidental stimulation in
any stage in mans development resulted in the building up of
extra resources in that area, as though the scientists beam of light
had caused the organism to create an extra center or head at that
point. Once a man gives up his adult human way of doing things
and reverts to a more simple or more primitive pattern of reaction,
he is likely to go back to the points where his normal growth has
been disturbed. Once he has employed the extra heads built up
there, they tend to hold him at that level, as though they wished
to solve all his problems in a subhuman fashion and thus to pull
him away from his social group and his human way of doing things.
All the primitive psychologists I had met in the jungle seemed
to say that, with the aid of his fellows, a man can travel back to
find what, inside him, is destroying his life in the present. But their
attempts at healing showed that the forces which are discovered
must be brought up to the present and given social expression if the
individual is to profit by the experience. The ghouls, spirits, and
gods of illness could use both the individual and the group, if the
man who was ill, or his associates, did not have both the knowledge
and the will to either destroy or transmute them.
Man must express his excess energy either in reorganizing himself
or in changing the outside world. If he acts destructively toward
a dream character, he is opposing and trying to destroy a trouble
some fragment of himself, but if he acts in the same way toward
human beings, he is attempting to destroy what is equal to himself.
Since he can only know other human beings as he credits them with
282
his own self-feeling, any destructive social policy to some extent

turns him against his own center. This point had been emphasized
with the monotony of a turning wheel during the past few months.
Man must have no social policy which condones turning his ag
gression toward other men, as the head-hunters did. Otherwise, he
will always be turned against himself.
It seemed to me that in science, religion, and politics the West
erner had found a possible solution to this problem. Every man is
my brother. I will contend with him only within the framework of
good will, as I do in sports, in scientific research, and in democratic
assembly. But through my education and my psychotherapy I must
develop to a point where even when life becomes difficult I will
not regress, as an individual or as a group, to the head-hunter or the
ghoul stage of reaction.
Ahead of me on the trail back to the village, the twilight void
was now filling in with something living. Soon the amorphous
mass broke into jogging, sweating, running human beings and
horsemen. The lads had reached the village and spread the news
of my fate. The whole populace was hurrying down to the Mother
of Fountains, to get my body from the water, lest it should serve
as crocodile bait and build up the wrong kind of appetite in the
reptiles which frequented the ford of the river. Seeing me, the
cavalcade froze into immobility. There was terror in their faces,
horror in the eyes of all who looked at me. Their expressions pro
tested that I was a ghost, that I had brought them face to face with
the supernatural.
It was astonishing that people could be afraid of me, when see
ing them gave me such joy. I was especially glad to see the lads
who had been with me in the river, and Julio, who at last had
arrived from the north and had come with them. Now as I looked
at them staring at me, their ribs rising and falling, their mouths
opening as though to speak, without making a sound, as I looked
at their disheveled hair and their bodies gleaming with perspiration,
I knew that the feeling I had had for them before had been mainly
intellectualthat I had only been thinking about them before and
was now letting myself be with them for the first time.
You must have had a much harder time getting down here than
I did, I said at last. The fear that I had left my body in the whirl
pool with the queen of the water fairies, and that my ghost had
UNIVERSAL M AN
283
come to punish them for something or other, was melting now.

Their expressions were changing from horror to incredulity, to
curiosity, to joy.
I was glad they were laughing and crying, that they were people
who could express themselves freely, for the fluttering, sobbing
aliveness in the middle of myself had started up again the moment
I had seen them. The bubbling ripples which flowed up were no
longer sobs, but neither were they laughter. This was an action
feeling for which I had no name, with which I had had no ex
perience. Again and again it was set in motion as the villagers
swarmed about me, examining the vine which held up my banana
leaf, touching me to reassure themselves that I was really solid
flesh.
The most trivial details could start it all over again: the curious
angle a girls elbow made as she tucked a hair in the bun at the back
of her neck, the whites of the eyes of a lad as he looked up at me,
the flaring arch of the nostril of an old man, the bulging eyes of
a pony, which looked as though he were still certain I was a ghost.
Something had changed since I had last seen these people. I had
lost some of my dignity or stability, my sense of detachment or
rigidity, but I had not lost contact with reality. That was reas
suring. These people were more real to me than people had ever
been before. I no longer expected that something or someone would
punish me if I allowed myself to feel toward them and express my
feelings. I no longer expected them to let me down and hurt me
if I allowed myself to like them and to trust them.
One of the boys was still staring at me, openmouthed, not saying
a word. I could see that he did not share my feeling of mutual trust.
Perhaps I was no more than a ghost. He would have to see for
himself. At last he extended his hand, brushed it across a trickle
of blood from the scratch on my ribs, and examined it.
By now the others were demanding what charm I had used
against the water fairy. I thought that the boy with the staring eyes
was going to ask me for the blood as a talisman. When he spoke
there was a note of anger in his voice, of one who is convinced of
something against his will.
Well, anyway, he said, the water fairy got your half-soled
pants.
Index
Abra province, 119

Abra River, 253-254
gorge expedition, 3-14
Stewarts experience in rapids of,
9-14, 260-261, 265-270, 282-283
Adolescence:
circumcision, 57
dreams of, 61
racial, 25
scarification, 57
sexual education during, 178-179
teeth chipping in, 103-104
test results in, 61-62, in
Adultery, 33, 73, 179
high gods and, 32
African pygmies, 24
Agreement trance, 49, 92, m-112
description of, 41-42
Ilongot, 141
Ainus, 130
Airplanes, Negrito reaction to, 112
Alfonso, King, 59-61, 89
Amambay, 217-218
recital of Ifugao gods and cere
monies, 218-239
Amuck, Ifugao tendency to run, 199,

207-209, 233, 238
Ancestors:
calling of sick people by, 183
eating of crops by, 139
Ancestor worship, 134, 139-140, 168,
209-210, 234
spirit possession in, 241-242
Andaman Negritos, 24
Angaki, 253
Animal life, 63-68, 250
bats, 108
buffalo, 32, 213-214
chicken beating, 182
dogs, 83, 85, 127-128, 164-165, 168,
202
dreams of, 207
earthworms, 32, 33
horses, 163-165
insects, 35-38, 63-64, 104-106, 176,
180-181, 219
monkeys, 33
pigs, 62-63
snakes, 4-6, 35-36, 38, 188
souls of, 219
28J
286
Animal life {continued)

torture of, 164-165
AnitoSy Ilongot beliefs about, 134,
137, 138, 141, 183
Annihilation, meaning of, 270
Anopel, 254
Ants, as food, 104-105
Arthritis, 240
Asin River Rest House, 244, 249
Bamboo, uses of, 38, 151, 154, 155
Banaue, 193, 199-211
Bangued, Stewarts stay in, 120-131
Barton, Dr. Roy Franklin, 209
Basiy 134, 143
Basic man theory, 16, 26
central and border aspects of, 2021, 265
research methods, 20-27
trinity in unity, 17-18
universal man, 271-283
see also Man
Bataan Negritos, 32-38, 40-58
Bataan peninsula, 30
Bats, fruit, as food, 108
Bayombong, 129, 130, 132, 133
Bees, 37
dances of, 63-64
Beliefs, 141-142, 187
ancestor worship, 134,139-140, 168,
209-210, 234
blood brother, 34, 95
Bontoc, 170-174, 181-191
Ifugao, 168, 195-196, 221-248, 263,
264
Ilongot, 134, 137, 138, 141
Kankanai, 164
Negrito spirit, 65-66, 68-69
tattooing, 163
see also Dreams, Religion, Spirits,
etc .
Betel-nut chewing, 102-103, 104
taboo of, 176
Betrothal:
child, 166
see also Courtship
Beyer, Dr. H. Otley, 29-31, 129, 192,
209
Binet Test, 22
Black magic, 26, 39, 41, 255

Blood brother belief, 34, 95
Blood feuds, 40, 95
Bontoc, 179-180
Ifugao, 198-199
Ilongot, 137-138
Kalingan lines to replace, 144
marriage taboos and, 33-34
Negrito, 33, 40
Blood sacrifice, 118, 142
see also Head-hunting
Bokai, 3, 192, 254-261, 282-283
Stewarts journey to, 249-255
Bolo, 7-8, 124
Bontoc (city), 162
social patterns in, 170-174
Bontocs, 24, 30, 168, 269
code of ethics, 173
culture and characteristics of, 173
190
high god of, 172-173, 185
emergence of political rites among,
emergence of political law among,
171
emergence of primitive economics
among, 173
origin myth of, 172
sexual life of unmarried, 172
significance of development, 274
social institutions, 170-174
war against the United States
Army, 193
Brown, Dr. Radcliffe, 24
Buffalo, 32
sacrificial, 213-214
Buguias, 162
Burial customs, see Funeral ceremo
nies
Caliat, 133
Camps, Negrito, 38, 103
Caterpillars, 36, 106
Caves:
Pinatoba spirit, 63
treasure, 5-6
Centipedes, 38
Central mind theory, 16, 21, 67, 69
dream drawings and, 265
INDEX
inherited ceremonies and, 265

spontaneous ceremonies and, 264
Ceremonies:
ancestor-worship, 134, 139
birth, 223-224
Bontoc, 171, 181-186
courtship, see Courtship
food gathering and preparing, 6368
funeral, see Funeral ceremonies

healing, see Healing
head-hunting, 140-146,152,156-157,
184-185, 267-268
Ifugao, 195
Kankanai, 166
magical dances, 63, 64, 65
mans inner balance affected by,
262-270
psychological aspects, 64, 225-226
puberty, 57
taboo-cleansing rituals, 77-78
typhoon-placating, 116-118
Cervantes, 253
Child, Dr., 17
Children, 25
Bontoc, 173, 178, 185
Ifugao, 207-208
Negrito, 60-62, 69, 90-91, 108, in
Chirp, 211, 217, 229, 244, 249
Christianity, 268
Bangued peoples attitude toward,
122, 126, 128
Kankanai beliefs and, 164
Negrito attitude toward, 95
Cigarettes, 37, 81
Circumcision, 57
Civilization, stages in evolution of,
23, 129, 162, 186
Clappers, Ifugao, 219
Clothing:
Bontoc, 178
Ifugao, 199, 205
Ilongot, 135-136
Negrito, 34-35
sacrificial, 134, 241
Cogon grass, 34
Color, trance significance, 42, 55, 78,
266-267
Copper, 133, 163-164
287
Councilors, 144
Councils:
Bontoc, 170-171
Kalingas, 144
Courtship:
American way, 86-96
Bontoc customs, 174-180
dances, 72, 79, 94
Filipino, 128
Ilongot customs, 150, 154
Cowrie shells, 135
Creativeness:
dream-induced, 25-26, 63-64, 264
Negrito, 46-47, 109-110
Cyst incidents, 51-54, 112
Dance:
courtship, 72, 74, 94
Filipino, 152
food gathering and preparing, 6368
Ifugao, 214-215
Ilongot, 151-152, 155-158
shamans, 124
spirit-placating, 116
see also Ceremonies
Death:
Bontoc beliefs, 183-184
gods of, 247-248
Ifugao attitude toward, 229-231,
2 3 3 -2 3 4
loss of head, 185

Negrito attitude toward, 99-100,
231
suicide, 248
see also Beliefs and Funeral cere
monies
Deer hunt, Negrito, 62, 107
Disease:
deities controlling, 229-230
Ifugao and, 240
Kankanai and, 166
mental, 241-243
Negrito chronic, 48
sopot-sopot, 120-127
trance-state treatment of, 40-58
tropical, 31-32, 42
venereal, 179
see also Healing and Medicine
288
Divination, egg, zio

Diviner deities, 235
Dogs:
Filipino, 127-128
as food, 164-165
Ifugao, 202
Negrito, 83, 85
Drawing:
action, 207
Ilongot, 136
Negrito, 111, 265
Dreams, 26, 207
adolescence, 61
balance in, 65
dead parents, 91
death and guilt aspects, 11, 91-92
drawings in, 265
falling, 108
food, 168
food-gathering, 65
head-hunting, 184
healing effect of, 278
impact on group life, 45-47
Kalingan priestess, 140
Negrito, 45-58, 61-64
nightmares, 68-69
Ogongs father-spirit, 54-57
purpose of, 277
reflection of life patterns through,
18-21
reflective thought in, 64
shaman, 91-92, 115, 262
Uns baby-spirit, 51-54
Zogs earth-spirit, 66, 68
see also Beliefs, Myths, and Trance
Drinking:
Bontoc, 174
Ilongot, 155-156
Kankanai, 165
Drums:
Ifugao, 243
Kankanai, 165
Negrito rhythm for, 43
shamans, 124
Dumagates, 136
Durian trees, 108
Earthworms, 32, 33
Egg ceremony, Lumawig, 184
Egss:. . ,
divination by, 210
as food, 180
Egg story, 17-18
Emotional Response Test, 22, 27, 41,
184, 21I
Ilongot, 137
Negrito, 61, iii
Evans, Negrito work, 24
Farm schools, 31, 101
Feasts:
funeral, 55-57, 59, 62-70, 80-86, 8992, 166, 183
Ifugao, 199-200
rice-increasing, 212-219
see also Ceremonies
Fertility:
Bontoc rock battle, 168
egg related to, 184
gods and, 221
head-hunting related to, 146
reproduction gods of, 223
return of souls, 219
rice priestess, 168
Filipinos, 88
Firearms, 32, 34, 193
Fire-kindling, 103
Fish, 165
Bontoc spirit food, 184
taboo, 78
Fogs, mountain, 105, 107
Food:
Bontoc, 180
ceremonial, 167, 168
dream, 168
high god, giver of, 172
Ilongot, 154-155
inheritance tax, 166
Kankanai, 164-165
meat preparation, 82
Negrito, 104-105, 108, no
taboos surrounding, 78
Funeral ceremonies:
Bontoc, 183
hnrials, 98-100
death requesting, 247
Ifugao, 246-247
Ilongot, 168
INDEX
Kankanai, 166
Negrito, 55-57, 59, 62-70, 80-86,
8 9 - 9 2
post-burial, 247
reburial, 242
Gabriel, 130, 143
153
Gallman, Captain Jeff, 209
Game-owning deities, 236
Ghosts, 100
Bontoc, 188-189
as gods, 233
Ogongs fathers, 55-57, 81
return of, 247
stories, 189
Ghouls, as gods, 247
Giles, Lieutenant, 209
Girdles:
Bontoc, 178
Ilongot, 135
Glin, 78-81, 85-88, 94, 96
Gloc, 115
Gods:
Bontoc high, 172-173, 185
Ifugao, 208-210, 221-248
Kalingan high, 139
Kankanai high, 164
Negrito high, 32, 33
possession, 228
significance of effect on mans
inner balance, 265
see also Beliefs, Myths, and Reli
gion
Gold, 146
Kankanai and, 164, 166-167
ornaments, 167
prospecting for, 162
Gongs, 144, 166
Goodenough Draw-a-Man Test, 22,
27
Ifugao, 207
Ilongot, 136-137
Negrito, 61, 62, no-111
Granary idols, 219
Group experience, 99
individual inner balance and, 262
Guilt, sense of, 10-11, 266-267, 268
expiation of, 117-118
fear and, 266-268
289
Halag, 241-244
Hapao, rice-increasing festival at,

212-219
Harpies, as gods, 230-231
Hartendorps, the, Stewart trip and,
15-28
Hawaii, University of, 22
Headache myth, 239
Head-hunting:
ceremonies associated with, 140146, 152, 156-157, 184-185, 267268
dreams associated with, 138-139
fertility related to, 146
Ifugao gods and, 222
Ilongot beliefs and, 137-138
influence of firearms on, 193
reasons for, 160-161, i67-f68
see also Bontocs, Ifugao, and Ilongots
Healing:
Bontoc, 181-183
Ifugao, 239-244
Jose incident, 255-258
Kalingan, 139-140
Negrito, 36-38, 40-58, 255256
trance, 46-49
witchcraft, 122-125
Heaven:
Bontoc concepts, 185
center of earth, 32, 33
Ifugao, four, 195
Honey, 64
Negrito use of, 36-38
Horsehair, 133, 150
Horses, 163-165
Hot-head justice, 171
Houses:
Bontoc, 171-172
Ifugao, 199
Ilongot, 130, 150
Kalingan, 134
Kankanai, 163, 165
Negrito, 38, 103
H ud hud myths, 223
Hungduan, 217
Hunt, Dr. Truman K., 192
Hunting, 62-68, 236
2 9 O
Hymns, effect on primitive peoples,

I52 I53* 15S
Hypnosis:
agreement trance and, 40, 42
Negrito reaction to, 40, 42
self-induced, 241-244
trance-like, 228
Hysteria, 144
Idols:
granary, 219
inner, 65-66
phallic, 171-172
property-guarding, 227
Ifugao, 23, 24, 191-196
customs and characteristics, 195205, 207-221
gods and religious beliefs, 221-224,
225-237, 244-248, 263, 264
healing and charm-activating cere
monies, 238-246
religious beliefs, 168, 195-196
social structure significance, 268269
Igorots, 162, 168
Igun, 108-110, 263
Ijah, 147, 148-149, 152
Iloko, 192
Ilongots, 23-25, 129, 130, 134
culture and characteristics, 151152, 167-168
eating customs, 154-155
emotional make-up, 141-142
fears of, 137
friendliness, 150
memories, 137
physical characteristics, 135-136,
150, 158
reactions to testing program, 135. !43
wars with Lowlanders, 133
Incest:
ceremonial, 77
dreams and, 279
first ancestors, 172
high god and, 33
Indians, American, 19
Indonesian mountaineer children, 129

Infancy, racial, 25
Inner balance, mans effort to
achieve, 63-68, 231, 261-270
Insects, 35-38, 63-64, 104-106, 176^
180-181, 219
Isabella province, 134
Jabons people, 102-113
Jenks, Ernest, 30, 192
Jewelry, Kankanai, 166-167
Jews-harp, 176
Jose, cure, 255-258
Journey, charms to guard, 245-246
Juan:
Bangued and witch-doctor inci
dent, 120-127
healing sessions and, 39-58
journey with Stewart, 29, 31-38
testing program aid, 60-61, 102
wife-acquiring incidents, 31, 71-81,
85-88, 92-96, 126-127
Zambales Negritos and, 101-119
Julio, 254
Ifugao experiences, 191-200, 204207
Jungles, hazards of travel in, 35-36,
38, 249-253
Kabunyan, 139, 140
Kalingas, 134
characteristics of, 142-143
spirit beliefs, 226
testing results, 138-142
Kankanai:
culture and characteristics of the,
162-167
Kinga (village), 244, 246
Kinga River, 244
Lace panties incident, 87-88, 92-93
Lango, courtship dance, 72, 79
Language:
mans development and, 18
Negrito, 30
sign, 203-204
Larvae, honeycomb, 38
INDEX
Leeches, 35
Lice, 177
Locusts, 176, 180-181
Loincloths, 35, 135, 177
Loo, 252-253
Love:
Bontoc attitude toward, 179
Christian, 95
charms for, 244
see also Courtship
Lowlanders, 33
Ilongots and, 133
language, 30
Lucas, King, 59-60
Lumawig, Bontoc belief in, 183-187
Luzon, 129, 162
MacGregor, experiences of, 159-169
Magat River valley, 162,
Magic:
black, 39, 41, 255
dances, 63, 68
egg divination, 210
hunting, 236
love charms, 244-246
spirit-placating, 109
witch doctors, 122-125
see also Beliefs and Ceremonies
Malaria, 42
Malaya, Negritos of, 24
Man:
basic, 16, 20-27
central mind theory, 21-22
Ifugao gods and, 234
inner balance and outer relation
ships, 261-270
Lumawig and, 172
universal, 271-283
Manolo, trading post of, 134-135,
143-147
Marriage:
blood kin taboo, 33-34
Bontoc customs, 179, 184
Kankanai customs, 166
native-white, 161
Negrito customs, 71-81
see also Courtship
Meat-eating, 235
see also Foods
29 I
Medicine, 39-40, 48, 49

constant-state-of-body theory, 2021
free distribution of, 31-32
honey as, 63-64
sopot-sopot treatment, 121-122
see also Healing
Messenger deities, 228
Metal Maze test, 22, 27, 61, 62, 111,
i3 7
Ming jars, 5
Mining, Kankanai, 163-164
Money, 80, 133, 163-164
Monkeys:
joke incident, 90-91
myths about, 33, 187-188
Moon myths, 39, 128, 184, 222, 235
Mormonism, 17, 20
Mountain province, American influ
ence on, 192-193
Music, see Dances and Songs
Musical instruments, 124, 151, 165,
166, 176
Muzzle, gold, 167
Myths:
headache, 239
head-losing, 184-185
H ud hud, 223
lizard, 187
monkey, 33, 187-188
moon, 39, 128, 184, 222, 235
origin, 172, 208
rice bird, 180, 187-188
rock-demon, 105-106
root, 109-110, 263
salt, 263
serpent-eagle, 184-185
snake, 4-6, 188
stiff-neck, 239-240
thunder, 43-44, 117
water fairy, 3-14
see also Beliefs
Negritos:
attachment to land, 30, 50, 58
Bataan groups, 32-38, 40-58
beliefs, 65-66, 68-69
chipped teeth, 103-104
Christianity and, 95
292
Negritos (continued)
communities of, 103
culture of, 16-17, 23-25, 129-130
eastern groups, 129
food taboos, 78
friendliness response, 100, 101, 107
gourmandizing, 84-85
head shaving, 101
healing metnods, 40-58, 255-256
original endowments, 62
personality characteristics, 30, 50,
67, 98-100, 107-108, hi
physical characteristics, 31, 37-38,
73-76, 101-104
pregnancy taboos, 66-67
racial mixing, 129-130
return of dead, 91
scarification, 57
shaman dreams, 91-92
significance of personality-environ
ment reactions, 261-266, 269-270,
271-273, 277, 280-281
Neuroses, 21, 46, 69
lata, 144
starvation, 255-258
Nonliterate peoples, 19, 25
Nueva Vizcaya, 129, 130
Ogong, 81
Olan, marriage project, 71-81, 126-
127
Omens, 171, 188, 194, 222

Palali Mountains, 129
Pana, treatment and testing of, 41-49
Pangat Guhlu, 143-144
Patterns, growth, 18-21
Pay-backable deities, 218-220, 240,
263
Perez, Dr. Gilbert, 16, 17, 22, 23, 25
Peter, St., 275, 280
Philippine, 16
Philippines, primitive peoples in, 2325, 30, 216
Philippines, University of, 29
Photographs, primitive reactions to,
175-176
Pig hunts, 62-63
Pili, property-guarding god, 227
Pinatoba, spirit cave on, 43

Plant life:
cane, 155, 250
cogon grass, 34
durian trees, 108
food plants, see Foods
rice, see Rice
souls of, 65
tubers, no
Population figures, 30, 216
Porcupine, as food, 155
Porteus Maze Test, 22, 27, 61, no,
137, 138, 150
Pregnancy, taboos, 66-67
Priests:
Bontoc, 170-171
Ifugao, 210, 220-221, 228, 247, 264
shaman, see Shaman
see also Religion
Private ownership and enterprise,
186, 226-227
Progressive Fantasy Test, 22, 61, h i ,
*37 .
Prospecting, 162
Psychology, see Psychotherapy and
Testing
Psychotherapy:
Bontoc, 182
creativeness in, 47
cultural development of man and*
271-282
deteriorating influence of tech
nical progress, 264
dream calling to, 140
group, two types of, 45-46
group aspects, 99, 108
Ifugao approach, 228
Kalinga, 140
meaningful nature of whirlpool ex
perience, 260-262, 267-270
Negrito healing and, 41-58
priestcraft and, 243-244
priesthood and, 247
shaman practice of, 115
social institutions and, 268
Puberty:
scarification, 57
see also Adolescence
INDEX
Pudiing, 226-227
Pygmies:
African, 24
Philippine, see Negritos
293
Scarification, at puberty, 57
Schebesta, Father, 24
Science:
knowledge and, 26
point of vantage and, 277
Raft accident, 254
religion and, 20-21
Rattan trade, 134
Schools, 31, 101, 132
133
Religion:
Sex:
Christian idea significance, 95, 122,
Bontoc customs, 172, 174-180
126, 128, 164, 268
Ifugao attitudes, 223-224
cultural development and mans
impotence in, 236
license in, 194
inner balance, 271-282
primitive, see Beliefs and Cere
masculine-feminine spirits, 51-53
monies
test experiences in, 136
science and, 20-21
see also Courtship and Marriage
Reproduction, gods of, 223-224, 234 Shaman, 91-92, 114-116, 228
Revelation, 262, 277
Jabon, 102-113
Bontoc, 173
Negrito healing by, 40-58
Pana, 44
training for, 115
Smith, Joseph, 17, 20
see also Healing
Rheumatism, 240
Shrines:
Rice:
Ifugao, 227
ceremonies surrounding, 169, 212Kalingas anito, 134
219
Kankanai, 161
as food, 180
Silk threads, for currency, 133
priestess, 169
Skirts, bark cloth, 93
significance to Ilongots, 152, 153, Sleep:
158
god of, 20
terraces, 198-199, 201-205, 215-216
mens psychology and, 20
new patterns and, 18
test for guilt by, 171
wine from, 165
Smoking habits, Negrito, 37
Rice bird myth, 180, 187-188
Snakes, 35-36, 38
Ringworm, 37
myths about, 4-6, 188
treatment of, 40, 49, 50
Snow, 50
Social reality, 243
Roads, 174
Bontoc trail, 191-196
Social relations gods, 225-226
jungle, 32-38, 249-253
Society:
Roberto, 32, 34, 94
Bontoc, 170-174
Rock myth, 105-106
dreams and, 66
Root myth, 109-110, 263
Ifugao, 268-269
influence on emotions and mental
Rimo loop, 226-227
growth, 21-26
Kalingan, 144
Salt:
Negrito, 45, 60, 108
gift, 102
reaction to stress, 269-270
myth, 263
western mans new concept of, 278Salvadors, the, 121-131
Samoki, 162, 168
282
Santiago, Julio, 191-200, 204-205, 254 Songs:
Sari, at the funeral feast, 89-91
Ifugao, 200
294
Songs (continued )
Dongot, 151-152, 155-158
Kankanai, 165-166
Negrito, 83-85, 98, 102, 109-110,
116
Sopot-sopot illness, 120-127
Spanish influence, 163-164
Spear, Bontoc anti-anito, 190
Spiny caterpillars, 36, 106
Spirits:
Bontoc belief in, 181-191
ghosts, 55-57, 100, 233
ghouls, 247
Negrito beliefs, 65-69, 109-110, 238
possession, 108-110, 243, 246-247
shaman struggles with, 115-116
see also Beliefs
Spitter deities, 231
Spoon, magic, 227
Squirt guns, 146-147
State Training School, Utah, 20, 22
Stewart, Kilton, passim
background of expedition, 15-28
whirlpool experience and interpre
tation, 3-14, 260-270, 282-283
Stiff-neck healing ceremony, 239-240
Storms, jungle, 116-118, 250-251
Sugar-cane, 155-156
Suicide, 248, 266
Sweet potatoes, 165
Sympathy Test, 61, in , 137
Taboos:
betel-nut chewing, 176
eating, 78
gambling, 176
group support against spirits by, 69
isolating, 117
marriage, 33-34
pregnant woman, 66-67
property-guarding, 227
sex, 77-78, 223
Tajo, 174-182
Talisman:
guardian spear, 190
love charms, 244-246
Talisman-activating gods, 234-235
Tapon, 174-190
Tattooing, 57, 163

Bontoc, 163
Ilongot, 135
Kalinga, 142
Kankanai, 163
Teeth, chipped, 103-104
Testing program, 21-22, 27
Bangued High School, 121, 129-130
Bokai incidents, 253-255
death dreams, 91
Ifugao, 207-211
Ilongots, 135-143* Uo* 1 5 4
loss of records, 254
Negrito, 39-58, 60-62, 75, 110-112
shaman reaction, 114-116
see also separate tests
Thunder:
gods of, 226
Negrito beliefs about, 43-44, 117
typhoon, 116-118
Ticks, wood, 36
Todas, 130
Tolandian, 32-34, 45, 65, 77-78, 117
Trade, 59, 134, 135
Trance:
agreement-type, 41-42, 49, 92, 111112, 141
creativeness in, 47
healing through, 46-49
Kalingan and Ilongot reactions,
138-142
shaman use of, 114-115
significance of response to, 265270
spirit contact through, 106-107
Tree demon incident, 105-107
Tree snakes, 36
Tubers:
as food, no
trance mention of, 143
Twins, Ilongot custom concerning,
161-162
Typhoon, 116-118, 261, 262
Un:
marriage-making incident, 71-77,
87, 92-96
INDEX
trance-treatment of, 50-54

United States:
Americans as colonizers, 192-193
Ilongots and, 133
Negritos and, 59, 60
Universal man, 271-282
see also Basic man and Man
Utah, 42
Utah, University of, 19
Venereal disease, 179
Villiar, 101
War, 133, 170, 193, 222
Water fairy myth, 3-14
Weapons, 135, 142-147, 157
Weaving, gods of, 219
Whirlpool experience, 9-14, 260-270,
282-283
Wind deities, 229
Witch doctor, sopot-sopot treatment,
122-125
295
Women:
Bontoc, 174-179, 185
funeral ceremonies performed by,
83-84, 85
Ifugao, 205, 216-217
Ilongot, 151
labor ceremonies, 223-224
marriage customs, see Marriage
musicians, 165
muzzled, 167
Negrito, 32, 116
priestesses, 139-140, 181, 241-244
pregnancy taboos, 66-67
reticence of, 50
virtue attitudes, 128
Writing, automatic, 47
Young, Brigham, 145
Zambales Mountains, 30, 129
Negritos of the, 102-113, 114-118
Zog, dream of, 66, 68

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P YGMI E S

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY

To my parents, v)ho had to accept the Negritos

JLHE Abra River, which I had

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

Ive been in your mountains for months, I answered. I know

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

The Egg in My Past

Y expedition had begun,

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

THE EGG IN MY PAST

Tribes of them were scattered in various parts of the world, in

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

THE EGG IN MY PAST

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

as I pontifically called ithad gotten me into trouble with duly

THE EGG IN MY PAST

wisdom of the body, which maintained the constant states, such as

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

in different directions than we did in the West. Perhaps eventually

THE EGG IN MY PAST

servative taxpayers of the islands. They felt that I should find my

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

THE EGG IN MY PAST

rights, as racial infancy, Perez concluded. We have described

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

the freest, most spontaneous and therefore newest type of activity

THE EGG IN MY PAST

After dinner, I demonstrated my battery of tests on some neigh

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

Was she then in favor of her husbands advancing me the money?

Jl V WEEK later, as I sat in a bar

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

the viciousness of their half-wild dogs, and their unreliability as

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

ing along between banks of cogon grass growing so high that it

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

Spirit Cave on Pinatoba

JLHE supplies the district health

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

with hypnosis, I might be able to persuade the most suggestible

SPIRIT CAVE ON PINATOBA

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

SPIRIT CAVE ON PINATOBA

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

It sounds like his fathers fathers older brothers voice, said

SPIRIT CAVE ON PINATOBA

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

This type of procedure would educate the whole group in the

SPIRIT GAVE ON PINATOBA

PYGMIES AND DREAM GIANTS

breathe freely. I had allayed their suspicion of black magic and

SPIRIT CAVE ON PINATOBA