Extracts
from M. A. Czaplicka, Aboriginal Siberia, Clarendon Press,
My comments are between [ ]. A
non commented version is also available at : www.sacred-texts.com and there follow
the links religion, then shamanism.
However,
the present electronic version is my own scan of the original version. Minor
mistakes in the above version are corrected in this one. A funny one and a
misleading other are that a shaman never foamgs but foams at the mouth, and that an ouokh is not an ouoloh.
I kept Czaplicka’s Oxford English spelling.
CHAPTER XI
THE SHAMAN IN ACTION
SINCE the performances of
shamans as professionals called in to treat diseases, to answer inquiries, for soothsaying
and other similar purposes, are
very much the same among the different tribes of Palaeo-Siberians, we shall
confine ourselves to giving a few typical examples of these performances. The
same procedure will be followed with regard to the Neo-Siberians.
Palaeo-Siberians.
The Koryak. . [The Koryak are inhabitants of the North of Kamchatka. In
1897, they were less than 10 000. Look at a chart of the east of
Jochelson
speaks1 of the shamanistic performances which he saw as follows :
‘During the entire period of my sojourn among the Koryak I had opportunity to
see only two shamans. Both were young men, and neither enjoyed special respect
on the part of his relatives. Both were poor men who worked as labourers for
the rich members of their tribe. One of them was a Maritime Koryak from Alutor.
He used to come to the
1 Jochelson,
The Koryak, p. 49.
‘Suddenly he commenced to beat
the drum softly and to sing in a plaintive voice; then the beating of the drum
grew stronger and stronger ; and his song - in which could be heard sounds
imitating the howling of the wolf, the groaning of the cargoose,
and the voices of other animals, his guardian spirits - appeared to come,
sometimes from the corner nearest to my seat, then from the opposite end, then
again from the middle of the house, and then it seemed to proceed from the
ceiling. He was a ventriloquist. Shamans versed in this art are believed to
possess particular power. His drum also seemed to sound, now over my head, now
at my feet, now behind, now in front of me. I could see nothing; but it seemed
to me that the shaman was moving around, noiselessly stepping upon the platform
with his fur shoes, then retiring to some distance, then coming nearer, lightly
jumping, and then squatting down on his heels.
‘All of a sudden the sound of the drum and the singing
ceased. When the women had relighted their lamps, he
was lying, completely exhausted, on a white reindeer skin on which he had been
sitting before the shamanistic performance. The concluding words of the shaman,
which he pronounced in a recitative, were uttered as though spoken by the
spirit whom he had summoned up, and who declared that the “disease” had left
the village, and would not return.’
The
other shamanistic ceremony was performed by a shaman at .Jochelson’s request
for the purpose of divining whether he would reach home safely.
During
this ceremony1 the shaman suddenly asked Jochelson for his knife,
saying, ‘The spirits say that I should cut myself with a knife. You will not be
afraid?’2
Jochelson
gave him, not without some scruples, his travelling knife, which was sharp and
looked like a dagger. ‘The light in the tent was put out; but the dim light of
the Arctic spring night (it was in April), which penetrated the canvas of the
tent, was sufficient to allow me to follow the movements of the shaman. He took
the knife, beat the drum, and sang, telling the spirits that he was ready to
carry out their wishes. After a little while he put away the drum, and,
emitting a rattling sound from his throat, he thrust the knife into his breast
up to the hilt. I noticed, however, that after having cut his jacket, he turned
the knife downwards.
1 Op. cit., p. 51. 2 Ibid.
He drew out the knife with the same rattling in his throat, and resumed
beating the drum.’1
Then he said to Jochelson that he would have a good
journey, and, returning the knife to him, showed through the hole in his coat
the blood on his body. ‘Of course, these spots had been made before’, says Jochelson.2 ‘However, this cannot
be looked upon as mere deception. Things visible and imaginary are confounded
to such an extent in primitive consciousness that the shaman himself may have
thought that there was, invisible to others, a real gash in his body, as had
been demanded by the spirits. The common Koryak, however, are sure that the
shaman actually cuts himself, and that the wound heals up immediately.’
The Chukchee. [The Chukchee live the
North-East of
When the drum is tightened and moistened, and the light
is put out, the shaman, who is often quite naked down to the waist, begins to
operate.
In modern times Chukchee shamans imitate the Tungus shamans in
smoking a pipe filled with strong narcotic tobacco.
The shaman beats the drum and sings tunes; at first
slowly, then more rapidly. His songs have no words, and there is no order in
their succession. Though the audience takes no actual part in the ceremony,
they are in fact of some assistance, as forming a very primitive ‘chorus’. Their frequent
exclamations encourage the shaman’s actions.
Without an ocitkolin
(‘to give answering calls,’ participle) [they are thus the human assistants of the
shaman, while the kelet are his/her spirit assistants.] a Chukchee shaman
considers himself unable to perform his office fittingly; novices, therefore,
while trying to learn the shamanistic practices, usually induce a brother or a
sister to respond, thus encouraging the zeal of the performer.4
‘Among the Asiatic Eskimo, the wife and other members of
the family form a kind of chorus, which from time to time catches up the tune
and sings with the shaman.
1 Op. cit., p. 52. 2 Ibid. 3 The Chukchee, p. 433. 4
Op. cit., p. 434.
Among the Russianized Yukaghir
of the lower
When the kelet [plural of kele,
assistant spirit, but can also be a bad spirit, as Czaplicka
puts it. It is obvious for me that ethonologists, full of the assurance of their
Western superiority and unconsciously carried Christianity, did not understand
that the kele is always
a spirit who comes to visit the shaman. But the contact with the spirits,
although very seldom dangerous in the short run, is in fact a dangerous
adventure, which ethonolgists cannot acknowledge. A kele can be a helper but, if something goes wrong
between the chaman and the kele, the
last one can quickly become, at best, a harsh councellor, and, in the worst
case it can give place to a ‘demon’ which will devastate the future life of the
shaman.] come to the shaman, he acts in a different
way, according to whether he has or has not a ventriloquistic
gift.
If the shaman is only ‘single-bodied’, the kelet will sing and beat
the drum through his body, the sound only of the shaman’s voice being changed. When he is a
ventriloquist, the kelet appear as ‘separate voices’.
Bogoras says that shamans could, with credit to
themselves, carry on a contest with the best practitioners of similar arts in
civilized countries. The voices are successful imitations of different sounds:
human, superhuman [sic! I guess she means the sounds a spirit only could do?],
animal, even of tempests and winds, or of an echo, and come from all sides of
the room; from without, from above, and from underground. The Whole of Nature
may sometimes be represented in the small inner room of the Chukchee.
Then the spirit either begins to talk or departs with a
sound like the buzzing of a fly. While it stays, it beats the drum violently,
speaking in its own language, if it happens to be any animal except the wolf,
fox, and raven, which can speak in the language of men ; but there is a
peculiar timbre in their voices.
Usually it is not only one spirit which appears, and
this part of the performance might be called a dialogue. Sometimes the shaman
does not himself understand the language he is using, and an interpreter is
necessary. There are cases when spirit-language, comprising a mixture of
Koryak, Yakut, and Yukaghir, has to be translated into Russian for the Russianized shamans and natives, especially those of the
Jochelson tells of a Tungus shaman nicknamed Mashka,
whose ‘spirits’, being of Koryak origin, spoke through him in that language: ‘I asked him several
times to dictate to me what his spirits were saying, and he would invariably
reply that he did not remember, that he forgot everything after the seance was over, and that, besides, he did
not understand the language of his spirits. At first I thought that he was
deceiving me; but I had several opportunities of convincing myself that he
really did not understand any Koryak. Evidently he had learned by heart Koryak
incantations which he could pronounce only in a state of excitement.’2
1
Op. cit., p. 435. 2
Jochelson, The Koryak, p. 52.
There is no regular shamanist language among the Chukchee,
merely a few special expressions.
‘Among the north-western branch of the Koryak, the
“spirits” are said to use a special mode of pronunciation, similar to that used
by the south-eastern Koryak and the Chukchee. A few words are also said to be
peculiar to them. Among the Asiatic Eskimo the “spirits” are said to have a
special language. Many words of it were given me by the shamans, and most of
them are analogous to the “spirit” language known to various Eskimo tribes of
Sometimes the spirits are very mischievous. In the
movable tents of the Reindeer people an invisible hand will sometimes turn
everything upside down, and throw different objects about, such as snow, pieces
of ice, &c.
‘I must mention,’ says Bogoras2, ‘that the audience is
strictly forbidden to make any attempts whatever to touch the “spirits.” These
latter highly resent any intrusion of this kind, and retaliate either on the
shaman, whom they may kill on the spot, or on the trespassing listener, who
runs the risk of having his head broken, or even a knife thrust through his ribs
in the dark. I received warnings of this kind at almost every shamanistic
performance.’
After the preliminary intercourse with
the ‘spirits’, the shaman, still in the dark, gives advice and utters
prophecies. For example, at one ceremony, where
Bogoras was present, the shaman Galmuurgin prophesied
to his host that many wild reindeer would be at his gate the following autumn. ‘One buck’, he said, ‘will stop on the
right side of the entrance, and pluck at the grass, attracted by a certain doe
of dark-grey hair. This attraction must be strengthened with a special
incantation. The reindeer-buck, while standing there, must be killed with the
bow, and the arrow to be used must have a flat rhomboid point. This will secure
the successful killing of all the other wild reindeer.’ 3
After his introductory interview with the spirits, the
shaman sometimes ‘sinks’; he falls to the ground unconscious, while his soul is wandering in
the other worlds, talking with the ‘spirits’ and asking them for advice. The modern shamans
actually ‘sink’ very seldom, but they know that it was done in the old days.
When shamanistic performances are connected with ceremonials,
they are carried on in the outer room.
1 Bogoras,
The Chukchee, p. 438. 2
Op. cit., p. 439. 3Op.
cit., p. 440.
Ventriloquism is not practised on these occasions, and the kele ‘is bent on mischief,
and among other things, seeks to destroy the life which is under his temporary
power.’1 Many tricks are performed by
shamans even in daylight.
Upune, the wife of a dead Chukchee shaman, possessed wonderful shamanistic
power; she herself declared that she had only a small part of her husband’s
ability. In a shamanistic performance ‘she took a large round pebble of the size of a man’s fist, set
it upon the drum, and, blowing upon it from all sides, began to mumble and
snort in the same kele-like manner.
She called our attention by signs - being in the possession of the kele, she
had lost the faculty of human speech - and then began to wring the pebble with
both hands. Then a continuous row of very small pebbles began to fall from her
hands. This lasted for fully five minutes, till quite a heap of small pebbles
had collected below, on the skin. The larger pebble, however, remained smooth
and intact.’2
At the request of Bogoras the female shaman repeated
this feat with the same success and, all the upper part of the body being
naked, it was easy to observe her movements. The practice of stabbing oneself
through the abdomen with a knife is universal in shamanistic performances; Kamchadal
and Eskimo, Chukchee and Yukaghir, even the Neo-Siberian shamans of northern
It would be difficult to describe all the tricks
performed by the shamans : some of the commonest are the swallowing of burning
coals,3 setting oneself free from a cord by which one is bound,
&c.
Neo-Siberians.
The Yakut. For comparison with
the Palaeo-Siberian methods of shamanizing, we shall take a Yakut shaman in
action, as described by Sieroszewski.4 ‘Outwardly, shamanistic ceremonies are
very uniform,’ says Sieroszewski. The ceremony now described ‘is the part of the
shamanistic ceremony which remains always and everywhere unchanged, and,
sanctioned by custom, forms, so to speak, the basis of the rite.’
When the shaman who has been called to a sick person enters
the yurta, he at once takes the place
destined for him on the billiryk agon. [This way of speaking is not explained in the lexicon provided by
Czaplicka. It means ‘the agon
of honor’. The lexicon gives two words close to agon: ongon, fetish (not used by the Yakuts) and arangka,
platform. ]
1 Op.
cit., p. 442. 2
Op. cit., p. 444.
3 Sarytcheff,
The Voyage of Capt. Sarytcheff's Fleet along the
N.E. Coast of Siberia, through the Polar Sea and the Pacific, p. 30. 4
Sieroszewski, 12 Lat w Kraju Yakutów, 1902,
p. 639.
He lies on his white mare’s skin and waits for the night, the
time when it is possible to shamanize. Meanwhile he is entertained with food
and drink.
‘When the sun sets and the dusk of evening approaches,
all preparations for the ceremony in the yurta
are hurriedly completed: the ground is swept, the wood is cut, and food is
provided in larger quantity and of better quality than usual. One by one the
neighbours arrive and seat themselves along the wall, the men on the right, and
the women on the left; the conversation is peculiarly serious and reserved, the
movements gentle.
‘In the northern part of the Yakut district the host
chooses the best latchets and forms them into a loop, which is placed round the
shaman’s shoulders and held by one of those present during the dance, in order
to prevent the spirits from carrying him off. At length every one has supper,
and the household takes some rest. The shaman, sitting on the edge of the billiryk,
slowly untwists his tresses, muttering and giving orders. He sometimes has
a nervous and artificial hiccough which makes his whole body shake; his gaze
does not wander, his eyes being fixed on one point, usually on the fire.
‘The fire is allowed to die out. More and more deeply
the dusk descends on the room; voices are hushed, and the company talks in
whispers ; notice is given that anybody wishing to go out must do so at once,
because soon the door will be closed, after which nobody can either go out or
come in.
‘The shaman slowly takes off his shirt and puts on his
wizard’s coat, or, failing that, he takes the woman’s coat called sangyniah.1 Then he is given a
pipe, which he smokes for a long time, swallowing the smoke ; his hiccough
becomes louder, he shivers more violently. When he has finished smoking, his
face is pale, his head falls on his breast, his eyes
are half-closed.
‘At this point the white mare’s skin is placed in the
middle of the room. The shaman asks for cold water, and when he has drunk it he
slowly holds out his hand for the drum prepared for him; he then walks to the
middle of the room, and, kneeling for a time on his right knee, bows solemnly
to all the four corners of the world, at
the same time sprinkling the ground about him with the water from his mouth.
1 Gmelin speaks of special embroidered
stockings which the shaman
dons in the yurta.
(Reise durch
Sibirien, pp. 351-6.)
‘Now everything is silent. A handful of white horsehair
is thrown on the fire, putting it quite out; in the faint gleam of the red
coals the black motionless figure of the shaman is still to be seen for a
while, with drooping head, big drum on breast, and face turned towards the
south, as is also the head of the mare’s skin upon which he is sitting.
Complete darkness follows the dusk; the audience
scarcely breathes, and only the unintelligible mutterings and hiccoughs of the
shaman can be heard; gradually even this sinks into a profound silence.
Eventually a single great yawn like the clang of iron breaks the stillness,
followed by the loud piercing cry of a falcon, or the plaintive weeping of a seamew - then silence again.
‘Only the gentle sound of the voice of the drum, like the
humming of a gnat, announces that the shaman has begun to play.
‘This music is at first soft, delicate, tender, then
rough and irrepressible like the roar of an oncoming storm. It grows louder and
louder and, like peals of thunder, wild shouts rend the air; the crow calls,
the grebe laughs, the seamews complain, snipes
whistle, eagles and hawks scream.’
‘The1 music swells and rises to the highest
pitch, the beating of the drum becomes more and more vigorous, until the two
sounds combine in one long-drawn crescendo. The numberless small bells ring and
clang; it is not a storm - it is a whole cascade of sounds, enough to overwhelm
all the listeners.... All at once it breaks off - there are one or two strong
beats on the drum, which, hitherto held aloft, now falls to the shaman’s knees.
Suddenly the sound of the drum and the small bells ceases. Then silence for a
long moment, while the gentle gnat-like murmur of the drum begins again.’
This may be repeated several times,
according to the degree of the shaman’s inspiration; at last, when the music
takes on a certain new rhythm and melody, somberly
the voice of the shaman chants the following obscure fragments:
1. ‘Mighty bull of the earth ... Horse of the steppes!’
2.. ‘I, the mighty bull ... bellow!’
3. ‘ I, the horse of the steppes ... neigh!’
4. ‘I, the man set above all other beings!’
5. ‘I, the man most gifted of all!’
6. ‘I, the man created by the master all-powerful! ‘
7. ‘ Horse of the steppes. appear! teach me !’
8. ‘Enchanted bull of the earth, appear! speak to me
!’
9. ‘ Powerful master, command me!’
10. ‘All of you, who will go with me, give heed with your ears! Those whom I command not, follow me not!’
11. ‘Approach not nearer than is permitted! Look intently! Give heed! Have a
care!’
12. ‘Look heedfully! Do this, all of you ... all together ... all, however many
you may be ! ‘
13. ‘Thou of the left side. O lady with thy staff, if anything be done amiss, if
I take not the right way, I entreat you - correct me! Command! . . .
14. ‘My errors and my path show to me! O mother of mine! Wing thy free flight!
Pave my wide roadway! ‘
15. ‘Souls of the sun, mothers of the sun, living in the south, in the nine
wooded hills, ye who shall be jealous . . . I adjure you all ... let them stay
. . . let your three shadows stand high!’
16. ‘ In the East, on your mountain, lord, grandsire of mine, great of power and
thick of neck - be thou with me !’
17. ‘ And thou, grey-bearded wizard (fire), I ask thee : with all my dreams,
with all comply! To all my desires consent .. . Heed
all ! Fulfil all ! ... All heed . . . All fulfil!’2
1 Sieroszewski,
op. cit., p. 641. 2
Sieroszewski, op. cit., pp. 641-2.
At this point the sounds of the drum are heard once more, once
more wild shouts and meaningless words - then all is silent.
Adjurations similar to the above are used in all the
Yakut districts and all ceremonies begin with them. There is, however, another
formula still longer and more complicated, which Sieroszewski says he could not
procure. The ritual which follows this formula consists of an improvisation
appropriate to each person and occasion.
In the ensuing prayers the shaman addresses his ämägyat
and other protective ‘spirits’; he talks with the kaliany,
asks them questions, and gives answers in their names. Sometimes the shaman
must pray and beat the drum a long time before the spirits come; often their
appearance is so sudden and so impetuous that the shaman is overcome and falls
down. It is a good sign if he falls on his face, and a bad sign if he falls on
his back.
‘When the ämägyat comes down to a shaman, he arises and begins to
leap and dance, at first on the skin, and then, his movements becoming more
rapid, he glides into the middle of the room.
Wood is quickly piled on the fire, and the light spreads through the yurta, which is now full of noise and
movement. The shaman dances, sings, and beats the drum uninterruptedly, jumps
about furiously, turning his face to the south, then to the west, then to the
east. Those who hold him by the leather thongs sometimes have great difficulty
in controlling his movements. In the south Yakut district, however, the shaman
dances unfettered. Indeed, he often gives up his drum so as to be able to dance
more unrestrainedly.
‘The head of the shaman is bowed, his eyes are
half-closed ; his hair is tumbled and in wild disorder lies on his sweating
face, his mouth is twisted strangely, saliva streams down his chin, often he
foams at the mouth.
‘He moves round the room, advancing and retreating,
beating the drum, which resounds no less wildly than the roaring of the shaman
himself; he shakes his jingling coat, and seems to become more and more
maniacal, intoxicated with the noise and movement.
‘His fury ebbs and rises like a wave ;
sometimes it leaves him for a while, and then, holding his drum high above his
head, solemnly and calmly he chants a prayer and summons the “spirit”.
‘At last he knows all
he desires; he is acquainted with the cause of the misfortune or disease with
which he has been striving; he is sure of the help of the beings whose aid he
needs. Circling about in his dance, singing and playing, he approaches the
patient.
‘With new
objurgations he drives away the cause of the illness by frightening it, or by
sucking it out with his mouth from the painful place: then, returning to the
middle of the room, he drives it away by spitting and blowing. Then he learns what
sacrifice is to be made to the “powerful spirits”, for this harsh treatment of
the spirit’s servant, who was sent to the patient.
‘Then the shaman,
shading his eyes from the light with his hands, looks attentively into each
corner of the room ; and if he notices anything suspicious, he again beats the
drum, dances, makes terrifying gestures, and entreats the “spirits”.
‘At length all is made clean, the suspicious “cloud” is no more to be seen,
which signifies that the cause of the trouble has been driven out ; the
sacrifice is accepted, the prayers have been heard-the ceremony is over.
‘The shaman still
retains for some time after this the gift of prophecy; he foretells various
happenings, answers the questions of the curious, or relates what he saw on his
journey away from the earth.
‘Finally he is carried with his mare’s skin back to his place of honour on
the billiryk’.1
The sacrifice offered to the ‘spirits’ varies according to the
importance of the occasion. Sometimes the disease is transferred to the cattle,
and the stricken cattle are then sacrificed, i.e. ascend to the sky.2
It is this journey to the sky, together with the
spirits and the sacrificed animal, which the dance symbolizes. In the old days
(according to the native accounts) there were, in fact, shamans who really did
ascend into the sky while the spectators saw how on the clouds there floated the
sacrificed animal, after it sped the drum of the shaman, and this was followed
by the shaman himself in his wizard’s coat’.3
There were also wicked and powerful shamans who, instead
of a real animal, carried up into the sky a mare formed of cloud, but the
evidence for the existence of these shamans is indefinite.
During this difficult and dangerous journey every shaman
has his places of rest, called ouokh (olokh);
when he takes a seat during the dance, this signifies that he has
come to an ouokh;4
when he rises, he is ascending further up into the sky ; if he falls down,
he is descending under the earth.
Every shaman, however far he may have proceeded on his
journey, knows where he is, on which ouokh, and also the route taken by
every other shaman who is shamanizing at that moment.
Sometimes the leading of the ‘spirit’ and the sacrificed cattle into
the sky forms a separate ceremony performed a few months after the first, in
which they had promised this sacrifice. The sacrifices are either bloody, when
the shaman tears to pieces the body of the animal with rage and fury, or bloodless ; e. g. when some grease or meat, or other
material, such as hair, &c., is offered up.
1 Sieroszewski, op. cit., p. 644.
2 Troshchanski says (p. 145) : ‘Instead of the
human kut which the abassy had
captured, he receives an animal kut. Usually, between the spirit who took away the kut
of the man and the representative of the latter, there takes place (through
the shaman) a keen bargaining, in which the spirit gives up some of its
demands.’
3 Sieroszewski, op. cit., p. 645.
4 These ouokh
occur in a series of nine, in conformity with the usual arrangement of objects in nines which
characterizes the whole religious and social system of the Yakut. (Sieroszewski, op. cit., p. 472.)
The Samoyed. The shamanistic
ceremonial among the Samoyed of the Tomsk Government has been described by
Castren,1
from whose account we take the following picture.
On arriving at the yurta,
the shaman takes his seat on a bench, or on a chest which must contain no
implement capable of inflicting a wound. Near him, but not in front, the
occupants of the yurta group
themselves. The shaman faces the door, and pretends to be unconscious of all
sights and sounds. In his right hand he holds a short staff which is inscribed
on one side with mystic symbols; and in his left, two arrows with the points
held upwards. To each point is affixed a small bell. His dress has nothing
distinctive of a shaman; he usually wears the coat either of the inquirer or of
the sick person. The performance begins with a song summoning the spirits. Then
the shaman strikes the arrows with his staff, so that the bells chime in a regular
rhythm, while all the spectators sit in awed silence. When the spirits appear,
the shaman rises and commences to dance. The dance is followed by a series of
complicated and difficult body-movements. While all this is going on the
rhythmical chiming of the bells never ceases. His song consists of a sort of
dialogue with the spirits, and is sung with changes of intonation denoting
different degrees of excitement or enthusiasm. When his enthusiasm rises to a
high pitch, those present join in the singing. After the shaman has learnt all
he wishes from the spirits, the latter communicate the will of the god to the
people. If he is to foretell the future, he employs his staff. He throws it on
the ground, and if it falls with the side inscribed with mystical signs turned
upward, this is a good omen; if the blank side shows, ill-fortune
may be looked for.
To prove his trustworthiness to those present, the
shaman uses the following means. He sits on a reindeer skin, and his hands and
feet are bound. The room is completely darkened. Then, as if in answer to his
call to the spirits, various noises are heard both within and without the yurta : the beating of a drum, the grunting
of a bear, the hissing of a serpent, the squeak of a squirrel, and mysterious scratchings on the reindeer-skin where he sits.
1
Castren, Reiseberichte und Briefe, 1845-9,
pp. 172-4.
Then the shaman’s bonds are untied, he is set free, and every one is
convinced that what they heard was the work of the spirits.
The Altaians. The kams (shamans)
of the Turkic tribes of the Altai have preserved with great strictness the
ancient shamanistic ceremonial forms. Potanin1 gives a curious description of the performance of a
young shaman, Enchu, who lived by the River Talda,
about six versts from Anguday. Four stages, each marked by a different posture
of the shaman, characterized his performance : in the first, he was
sitting and facing the fire ; second, standing, with his back to the fire ;
third, a sort of interlude, during which the shaman rested from his labour,
supporting himself with his elbow on the drum, which he balanced on its rim,
while he related what he had learned in his intercourse with the spirits ; and
fourth, a final shamanizing, with his back to the fire, and facing the place
where the drum usually hangs. Enchu declared afterwards that he had no
recollection of what happened while he was shamanizing with his back turned to
the fire. While he was in that position he had been whirling about madly in
circles on one spot, and without any considerable movement of his feet ;
crouching down on his haunches, and rising again to a standing posture, without
interrupting the rotating movement. As he alternately bent and straightened his
body from the hips, backwards and forwards and from side to side, with lively
movements or jerks, the manyak (metal
pendants) fastened to his coat danced and dangled furiously in all directions,
describing shining circles in the air. At the same time the shaman kept beating
his drum, holding it in various positions so that it gave out different sounds.
From time to time Enchu held the drum high above his head in a horizontal
position and beat upon it from below. The natives of Anguday explained to
Potanin that when the shaman held the drum in that way, he was collecting
spirits in it. At times he would talk and laugh with someone apparently near
by, but invisible to others, showing in this manner that he was in the company
of spirits. At one time Enchu fell to singing more quietly and evenly,
simultaneously imitating on his drum the hoof-beats of a horse. This was to
indicate that the shaman, with his accompanying spirits, was departing to the
underworld of Erlik, the god of darkness.
Mr. Potanin gives a description of this voyage which he heard
from a Russian missionary, Mr. Chivalkoff.
1 Potanin, Sketches of N. W.
Mongolia, vol. iv,
pp. 60-2.
The kam directs his way towards the south. He has
to cross the
Then the kam stoops and with his drum makes
certain movements as if dipping up wine. He presents the wine to Erlik; and
makes a shuddering movement like that of one who drinks strong wine, to
indicate that Erlik has drunk. When he perceives that Erlik’s
humour
is somewhat milder under the influence of his draught he makes him offerings of
gifts. The great spirit (Erlik) is moved by the offerings of the kam, and
promises increase of cattle, declares which mare will foal, and even specifies
what marking the young one will have. The kam returns in high spirits,
not on his horse as he went, but on a goose-a change of steeds which he
indicates by moving about the yurta on tiptoe, to represent flying.