Arts, Faculty of
Anthropology, Department of
DSpace
UBCV
Jorgensen, Dan
Doctor of Philosophy - PhD
University of British Columbia
This thesis examines the theme of order and entropy in the society, religion, and life of the Telefolmin people of Papua New Guinea, with an emphasis on the interpretation of secret rites and myths of the men's cult. Based on research in Telefolmin in 1974-5, the thesis draws upon the perspectives of Turner, Wagner, and Burridge. In the Telefol view order is a contingent construction which men maintain in the face of the world's drift toward entropy, corresponding to the concept of 'biniman' the process of dissipation and decay, 'becoming nothing'. The struggle against entropy informs several sectors of Telefol life, ranging from marriage practices to food tabus. A major strategy involves the segregation of antithetical acts and states, summarized in the polarization of nurturing and killing, which forms the major axis of the cult division between Taro (gardening, etc.) and Arrow (hunting, warfare, etc.). The anchoring point of the Telefol world is the men's cult house, which youths enter through a series of initiations. The rites are examined in detail, accompanied by an account of secret myths revealed in initiation. Analysis of the logic of secrecy shows that the multi-layered revelatory process illuminates principles of Telefol order while at the same time negating them. Thus the initiatory process highlights the dissonances of Telefol culture, calling "first principles" into question. This extends even to the notion that secret knowledge is capable of making reality transparent, a point underscored by the transcendental role of Magalim, a spirit embodying the notion of entropy. The thesis concludes by suggesting that Telefol religion comments on the possibilities of knowledge, men's hopes, the meaning of human action, and man's nature. Far from escaping life's ambiguities, men encounter them forcefully in Telefol religion. This implies that the anthropology of religion should be prepared to do no less.
TARO AND ARROWS: ORDER, ENTROPY, AND RELIGION AMONG THE TELEFOLMIN by DAN JORGENSEN B.A., San Fernando Valley State College, 1969 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY In THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES Department of Anthropology and Sociology We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA February 1981 (c) Dan Jorgensen, 1981 In presenting th i s thes is in pa r t i a l fu l f i lment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the Univers i ty of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the L ibrary sha l l make it f reely" avai1 able for reference and study. I fur ther agree that permission for extensive copying of th is thesis for scho la r l y purposes may be granted by the Head of my Department or by his representat ives . It is understood that copying or pub l i ca t ion of th is thes is fo r f inanc ia l gain sha l l not be allowed without my writ ten permission. Depa rtment The Univers i ty of B r i t i s h Columbia 207S Wesbrook Place Vancouver, Canada V6T 1W5 i i ABSTRACT This thesis examines the theme of order and entropy in the society, religion, and l i f e of the Telefolmin people of Papua New Guinea, with an emphasis on the interpretation of secret rites and myths of the men's cult. Based on research in Telefolmin in 1974-5, the thesis draws upon the perspectives of Turner, Wagner, and Burridge. In the Telefol view order is a contingent construction which men maintain in the face of the world's d r i f t toward entropy, corresponding to the concept of ' biniman'. the process of dissipation and decay, 'becoming nothing'. The struggle against entropy informs several sectors of Telefol l i f e , ranging from marriage practices to food tabus. A major strategy involves the segregation of antithetical acts and states, summarized in the polarization of nurturing and k i l l i n g , which forms the major axis of the cult division between Taro (gardening, etc.) and Arrow (hunting, warfare, etc.). The anchoring point of the Telefol world is the men's cult house, which youths enter through a series of i n i t i a t i o n s . The rites are examined in detail, accompanied by an account of secret myths revealed in i n i t i a t i o n . Analysis of the logic of secrecy shows that the multi-layered revelatory process illuminates principles of Telefol .order while at the same time negating them. Thus the initiatory process highlights the dissonances of Telefol culture, calling " f i r s t principles" into question. This extends even to the notion that secret knowledge is capable of making reality transparent, a point underscored by the transcendental role of Magalim, a s p i r i t embodying the notion of entropy. The thesis concludes by suggesting that Telefol religion comments on the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of knowledge, men's hopes, the meaning of human action, and man's nature. Far from escaping l i f e ' s ambiguities, men encounter them forcefully in Telefol religion. This implies that the anthropology of religion should be prepared to do no less. i i i ' TABLE OF CONTENTS Page ABSTRACT i i LIST OF TABLES v LIST OF FIGURES v i LIST OF PLATES v i i ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS v i i i MAPS x CHAPTER 1 - INTRODUCTION 1 i . T h e o r e t i c a l Background: the D i a l e c t i c s of Order i n Anthropology 1 i i . The Plan of the D i s s e r t a t i o n 29 i i i . P l a c i ng Telefolmin i n New Guinea Ethnography 39 i v . A Sketch of T e l e f o l History 41 v. Entering Telefolmin 47 CHAPTER 2 - THE BACKGROUND OF TELEFOL LIFE 52 i . Introduction 52 i i . Gardening and Hunting 52 i i i . V i l l a g e and Bush 84 i v . Friends and Enemies 96 v. Parents and Children 131 v i . Men and Women 149 CHAPTER 3 - ORDER AND ENTROPY IN THE TELEFOL WORLD 156 i . Introduction 156 i i . T e l e f o l S o c i a l Structure - Tenum Miit 159 i i i . T e l e f o l S o c i a l Structure - The V i l l a g e 178 i v . Organizational Aspects of Entropy 205 v. Entropy i n T e l e f o l Cosmology 237 v i . Order and Disjunction: Food Tabus 272 v i i . Managing Order and Entropy 303 CHAPTER 4 - THE WORLD OF THE YOLAM 325 i . Introduction 325 i i . The Yolam and Its Contents 328 i i i . The T e l e f o l i p 332 i v . I n i t i a t i o n s 337 (a) Dagasal Ban 344 (b) 0m Ban 354 (c) Tlalalep Ban 356 (d) Mafuum Ban ; 359 (e) Iman (Ot/Tap) Ban 370 i v Page v. More About I n i t i a t i o n s and Their Interpretation ... 388 v i . Secret Narratives and the Afek Myths 399 v i i . On Not Knowing i n Telefolmin 426 v i i i . Magalim and the Meaning of Meaninglessness 450 CHAPTER 5 - CONCLUSION: TELEFOL RELIGION AND WHAT IT MEANS . 468 APPENDIX I: Glossary 494 APPENDIX I I : The Two B l i n d Men Who Lived Inside a Stone 511 NOTES 515 BIBLIOGRAPHY • • 521 V LIST OF TABLES Table Description Page I Tenum Mi-it Origins and R i t u a l Competences 162 II Binary Matrix of Tenum Mi.it A t t r i b u t e s 163 III D u a l i s t i c Schema of Tenum Miit 165 IV T e l e f o l Game Pro h i b i t i o n s by Age and Sex 274 V Re s t r i c t e d Birds and Marsupials 278 v i LIST OF FIGURES Figure Description Page 1 Unangam Floorplan 150 2 Endogamy and Cognation (example from Derolengam) 180 3 Idealized T e l e f o l V i l l a g e Plan 181 4 " S i s t e r " Exchange 208 5 Tiksan's Marriage 214 6 Welagim's M a r i t a l Experience 216 7 S i s t e r Exchange, Incest Rules, and Reciprocity (Model) 230 8 Cognation and A f f i n i t y (example from Derolengam) 232 9 Structure of the Marriage System 233 10 Categories of the Dead 257 v i i LIST OF PLATES Plate Description Page 1 View of Ifitaman from a mountain garden 314 2 In a garden 314 3 The v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p from the a i r 315 4 A garden house i n the bush from the a i r 315 5 Planting taro 316 6 Konungen always has some roast taro on hand 316 7 Yemis displays a p r i z e taro 317 8 Dakasim brings home some pandanus from the bush 317 9 An informal pandanus feast i n Derolengam 318 10 One of Derolengam's mothers 318 11 Dakasim k i l l s a pig f o r a troublesome usong 319 12 T e l e f o l men danced when they fought; Welagim shows h i s s t y l e 319 13 Welagim puts the f i n i s h i n g touches on an arrow 320 14 Yasimen and her c h i l d 320 15 Running the gauntlet i n a pu b l i c phase of a ju n i o r i n i t i a t i o n 321 16 Two lads shortly a f t e r emerging from the dagasal ban 321 17 Two mafuum i n i t i a t e s before t h e i r yotam 322 18 Derolengam men turned out f o r Independence Day 322 19 The T e l e f o l i p 323 20 A dungeon, the route by which Telefolmin enter the world 323 21 Ropen, leader of the Ok Bembem c u l t 324 22 Dakasim makes a garden by attacking the forest 324 v i i i ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS It i s a pleasure to thank those who have helped me to attempt what I want to do. The work on which t h i s d i s s e r t a t i o n i s based would have been impossible without the f i n a n c i a l assistance of the Canada Council and the University of B r i t i s h Columbia. To Ken Burridge I o f f e r my thanks for guidance and i n t e l l e c t u a l stimulation, and for many les s e a s i l y expressed debts as well. To my supervisory committee I would l i k e to express my gratitude for t h e i r patient attentions. The work of others has been h e l p f u l to me, p a r t i c u l a r l y the writings of Frederik Barth, Mary Douglas, V i c t o r Turner, and Roy Wagner. Special thanks go to A l e t t a Biersack, John Gehman, Barbara Jones, and Cathy Wylie for t h e i r encouragement and i n s p i r a t i o n ; they are not to be blamed for what came of i t . Others also contributed u s e f u l commentary, patience, and friendship: Rosemary Coombe, Chet Creider, Fred Errington, Carole Farber, Jim Freedman, Don Gardner, Marge Halpin, Dave Hyndman, John LeRoy, Lorraine M i l l e r , Jean-Marc P h i l i b e r t , Joanne P r i n d i v i l l e , Terry Reynolds, and B i l l Richey. Previous workers among the Telefolmin aided me by providing access to unpublished work, and I would thank Barry and Ruth Craig for advice and information and Alan and P h y l l i s Healey for access to a draft of t h e i r T e l e f o l d i c t i o n a r y . Lindsay and Meryl Smith of the Baptist Mission were h e l p f u l i n -many p r a c t i c a l matters, as was S i s t e r Betty Crouch. The administrative s t a f f i n Telefolmin were likewise h e l p f u l , and of these I wish e s p e c i a l l y to thank Mark and Sandy Winfield and Tony Friend for t h e i r help and friendship. As a r e s u l t of going to Telefolmin I have enjoyed the support of two mothers, who give as mothers give: Marjorie Brossard (in Los Angeles) arid Konungen ( i n Derolengam). In Telefolmin i t s e l f I was befriended and taught by a number of i n d i v i d u a l s for whom I have warm thanks: Aamungsep, Beksep, Bufalok, Denuksep, D l i b a l , Etnayok, the old r a s c a l Femsep, d e l i g h t f u l Iitmop, Neengkinapnok, Ogeesep (master of many t a l e s ) , Olmamsep, Robinok,. Sandeyok, S e l o t i , Tegemsep, Tiksan, Timogen, Uunsep, Wesani, and Yemis. Most of a l l , I o f f e r my thanks to Dakasim and, posthumously, to Welagim. In many ways, t h i s work i s written f o r them. Sketch Map 1: Papua New Guinea Sketch Map 2: The Mountain Ok Region Sketch Map 3: T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s and major tracks , ' . . * Aeamtebip Tagatemtigm / * ' " \ j i — . • Abunkaman , „ ^ „ Bixltebxp «. < _ ><* jt D 0 N N E R RANGE * . / . * B o l l E l i p t a m a n ' ^ . ' \ "*,UbtemtigiQ__ - S t r i p - * ^ Telapdabip *Kubrenmin • " ~ Afogabip * ^A^-^Komdub ip \ Inantigin^ Ibaatigin Misinmin " M I T T A G R A N G,E \ i Telefolmin i , Station Mission Jlisinmin - ^ _ _ # _ Imfumavip fa* Derolengam • Ankevip '• Falamtigin i \ ., , 1 & i «-Kubrenmx MOUNTAINS lo B i i l t e v i p TELEFOLIP. Approx. two miles BEHRMANN RANGE 1 CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION i . Theoretical Background: • the Dialectics-.of: Order i n Anthropology^ Anthropology i s theorized and taught as an e f f o r t to vationali-ze c o n t r a d i c t i o n , paradox, and d i a l e c t i c , rather than to trace out and r e a l i z e t h e i r implications; students and professionals a l i k e learn to repress and ignore these implications, to "not see" them, and to imagine the most d i r e consequences as a putative r e s u l t of not doing so (Wagner 1 9 7 5 : v i i i ) . As a d i s c i p l i n e with a respectable h i s t o r y , anthropology has produced a f r u i t f u l d i v e r s i t y of approaches, "isms", and schools of thought. On one point, however, there i s c e r t a i n to be unanimity among anthropologists: the c e n t r a l i t y of ethnography derived from work i n the f i e l d . I t i s on the basis of f i r s t - h a n d ethnographic accounts that anthropology has gone from antiquarianism and grand (but often flimsy) speculation to the sustained and intensive pursuit of an understanding of the v a r i e t i e s of human experience. The f r u i t s of fieldwork for the d i s c i p l i n e as a whole are p l a i n enough: l i b r a r y shelves make the case. But for most anthropologists the s i g n i f i c a n c e of fieldwork goes far beyond amassing more "data" to add to the heap. Instead, fieldwork finds i t s j u s t i f i c a t i o n i n a broader and deeper range of i n t e l l e c t u a l and personal concerns. In many cases f i e l d research i s c a r r i e d out ostensibly to gather novel material with which to test extant propositions, hypotheses, paradigms, and the l i k e . Yet i t i s the r u l e rather than the exception that novel hypotheses emerge from the f i e l d experience rather than from w e l l - l a i d p l a n s — i n d e e d , t h i s i s so much the case that the ethnographer who returns with h i s research design i n t a c t i s l i a b l e to be regarded with some suspicion. Can things have r e a l l y gone so smoothly, can 2 the fieldworker have r e a l l y Zeavned anything, P l a i n l y , one of the expectations of fieldwork i s that plans may have to be revised, reorganized, or j e t t i s o n e d : that i s how i t i s supposed to work, one of the e s s e n t i a l points of the whole enterprise (see Barrett 1976). Rather than merely being the most d i r e c t means to the end of c o l l e c t i n g information, the p r a c t i c e of fieldwork i s i n i t s e l f one of the c r i t e r i a l features of anthropology as a d i s t i n c t d i s c i p l i n e . For many i t i s the nature of fieldwork (rather than a s p e c i f i c range of problems or subject matter) that d i f f e r e n t i a t e s anthropology from the otherwise c l o s e l y a l l i e d d i s c i p l i n e of sociology. In the f o l k l o r e of the profession, fieldwork assumes the s i g n i f i c a n c e of an i n i t i a t i o n , and t h i s metaphor's h a l f - j o k i n g character masks a widely held conviction that to become an anthropologist one must f i r s t become an ethnographer. It i s not hard to see why fieldwork has come to take on such importance for anthropologists, for the f i e l d s i t u a t i o n i s a setting i n which the anthropologist must confront h i s share of the d i s c i p l i n e ' s teaching with the exigencies of day-to-day experience among l i v i n g people. This i s a process (likened by some to psycho-analysis) i n which a n a l y t i c a l abstractions no longer contend with cardboard cut-outs but instead must come to grips with l i f e i n the round. More often than not, suppositions are inadequate to the task, c o l l a p s i n g under the burden of r a p i d l y accumulating experience, or sometimes merely missing the mark. And beyond the purely i n t e l l e c t u a l components of t h i s process there i s the more far-reaching engagement of the ethnographer's emotional and moral being i n an intense encounter with otherness (see Burridge 1973, 1979, n.d.; Wagner 1975). No wonder, then, that fieldwork assumes a mystique; no wonder that i t i s viewed as somehow dangerous, with the i n e v i t a b l e r i s k of "culture shock". It i s out of t h i s context, i n some imperfectly a r t i c u l a t e d way, that the seminal i n s i g h t s of anthropology emerge, that c r e a t i v i t y i s summoned up, 3 and that received thought i s prevented from achieving paradigmatic s t a s i s , closure, and stagnation. Fieldwork keeps anthropology a l i v e . The d e t a i l s of ethnographic experience vary enormously from one s e t t i n g (and one ethnographer) to the next. Yet c e r t a i n u n i f o r m i t i e s emerge. The most urgent i n t e l l e c t u a l task facing the fieldworker i s to get some bearings, to grasp the lay of the land and formulate some f a i r l y coherent p i c t u r e of what i s going on around him. Easier said than done, there are nonetheless some basic and straightforward t o o l s which aid i n achieving such preliminary understandings. At the same time, i t seems c e r t a i n that i n i t i a l impressions w i l l have to be revamped i n the l i g h t of further experience (see, e.g., Berreman 1962). Work i n the f i e l d i s thus marked by a succession of hunches, l i n e s of questioning, and representations of the ethnographic r e a l i t y that follow one upon the other throughout the course of the research period. These aspects of fieldwork are part of every ethnographer's experience and form an e s s e n t i a l part of becoming an anthropologist. More than t h i s , however, the nature of the ethnographic s i t u a t i o n shapes the e n t i r e d i s c i p l i n e of anthropology i t s e l f , and f i e l d problems are t h e o r e t i c a l problems. It i s an appreciation of t h i s that seems to have moved Murphy, i n h i s Dialectics of Social Life, to write: S o c i a l anthropology i s beset by a basic c o n t r a d i c t i o n that perhaps w i l l never be surmounted. This c o n t r a d i c t i o n a r i s e s from the fa c t that, although we search for order, s o c i a l l i f e i s v i s i b l y chaotic. I t s basic c h a r a c t e r i s t i c i s flow and f l u x ; i t s concrete ingredients are people... the substance of our observations i s events, each of them unique, j u s t as each human i s unique. As s t r i c t e m p i r i c i s t s , we must confront the t r u t h that we work with apparent ( i . e . , sensate) disorder, nonreplicable people, and non-repetitive events... anybody who has done fieldwork knows that h i s subjects appear to do quite mundane acts i n a random fashion. What greets the investigator's senses, then, i s not a s o c i a l structure or even ' s o c i a l f a c t s , ' but a mass of confusing impressions (Murphy 1971:38-9). Perhaps Murphy i s being dramatically p e s s i m i s t i c about the nature of order i n s o c i a l r e a l i t y ; c e r t a i n l y neither he, nor other anthropologists, 4 nor indeed, the peoples we study, go through l i f e randomly, i n perpetual confusion. Nonetheless, the force of the point remains: the r e a l i t y of the f i e l d experience i s that i t tends to be quite messy ( c f . Burridge n.d.). The ethnographer's task, however, i s not simply to passively subject himself to a barrage of information, nor even merely to record t h i s . Instead, some ordering must be achieved which allows not only the communication of information but the formulation of sense. The notion of s t r u c t u r e — i n i t s e l f subject to d e f i n i t i o n a l v a g a r i e s — i s c e n t r a l to .the job of ethnographic d e s c r i p t i o n and an a l y s i s . Some years ago Levi-Strauss scandalized a good number of h i s colleagues when he proposed that the idea of s o c i a l structure related p r i m a r i l y to the a n a l y t i c a l task of ordering: "the term ' s o c i a l structure' has nothing to do with empirical r e a l i t y but with the models which are b u i l t up a f t e r i t " ; (1963b:279). Yet i n t h i s he was being l e s s r a d i c a l than might be supposed, for h i s pronouncement embodies the simple and r e l a t i v e l y straightforward recognition that ethnography concerns i t s e l f not merely with information or "data" but with i t s orderly and i n t e l l i g i b l e arrangement; t h i s , of course, had been known f o r years (see e s p e c i a l l y Kroeber 1935; Evans-Pritchard 1951). Whatever else the term may mean, structure i s f i r s t of a l l to be understood as order and arrangement, a statement of i n t e r r e l a t i o n s between elements (whether "things" or " r e l a t i o n s " ) that i n some sense f i t together i n t o a coherent whole. Beyond these basic assumptions there i s a wide range of choice a v a i l a b l e to the ethnographer, and structure may be a r t i c u l a t e d i n terms of causal r e l a t i o n s , s t a t i s t i c a l c o r r e l a t i o n s , or patterns of formal arrangement. Epistemologically, ordering may proceed from the standpoint of an external observer ("etic" analysis) or from the perspective of one embedded i n the semantic environment of the culture being studied ("emic" a n a l y s i s ) . In p r a c t i c e , most ethnographers employ a mixture of such approaches, varying the proportions according to t h e o r e t i c a l or aesthetic 5 preference. Whatever the approach, however, the task of ordering one's material remains c e n t r a l to the whole subject. A l l of t h i s poses a dilemma which a l l ethnographers must face: to the extent that the paradigm of order guides the construction of the account, i t i s unavoidable that there w i l l be a r e l a t i v e l y large residue of material whose placement becomes e i t h e r d i f f i c u l t or impossible within the terms of the selected framework. Put d i f f e r e n t l y , t h i s i s the simple but brute truth that n a r r a t i v e structure and e x p e r i e n t i a l r e a l i t y are always to some extent at odds with each other (see, i n t h i s regard, Kermode 1979:107). This i n e l u c t a b l e d i f f i c u l t y i s at once the bane and ind i s p e n s i b l e resource of the ethnographer. The problem of constructing a narrative text which w i l l s a t i s f a c t o r i l y render a perceived ethnographic r e a l i t y i s one which i s a source of discomfort to ethnographers. Murphy (op. c i t . ) suggests that the conventional hiatus between the return from the f i e l d and the writing of ethnography i s best understood i n terms of the time required f o r the fieldworker's memory to forget or lose track of a l l the d e t a i l s which f a i l to f i t an o v e r a l l scheme. This i s , I think, too extreme, i f for no other reason than that I suspect such r e c a l c i t r a n t b i t s of information are only r a r e l y exorcised from memory's r e c a l l . Wagner, i n h i s introduction to Habu, sees the problem i n a somewhat d i f f e r e n t l i g h t . From h i s point of view, the ethnographer's dilemma consists i n the attempt to pre-empt or appropriate the c r e a t i v i t y of another cu l t u r e through the medium of one's own: ...the task of the anthropologist involves a very s p e c i a l kind of hubris, for he undertakes to represent the c r e a t i v i t y of a subject-culture through the a n a l y t i c processes of h i s science, and hence through the c r e a t i v i t y of h i s own culture. But a l l too often the modes of analysis that he employs can only bring about a representation of the subject-culture as a f i x e d , unchanging, " l o g i c a l " order or.a "closed" system of timeless determinants. While the rules and techniques of science allow the anthropologist to be c r e a t i v e i n the enterprise of deciphering the meanings of a native c u l t u r e and formulating them i n terms of a model, t h i s model, as 6 the s t a t i c a r t i f a c t of h i s a n a l y s i s , seldom makes prov i s i o n f or c r e a t i v i t y within the culture that i t purports to represent. Thus the s c i e n t i s t preempts c r e a t i v i t y as a property of h i s own culture and denies i t to that of the native, e n t a i l i n g a hubris not u n l i k e that of the a r t i s t who usurps the forms of div i n e creation for use within h i s own designs (1972:3-4). This i s a d i f f i c u l t y that cannot, i n any ultimate sense, be resolved. It i s inconceivable to me that any ethnographer has, i n one way or another, f a i l e d to appreciate t h i s . Wagner's acute s e n s i b i l i t y on t h i s score, i t should be understood, has not prevented him from w r i t i n g provocatively and at length about the nature of the D a r i b i world. Nor could i t do so: to perceive and grapple with the dilemma must lead to an expansion of our comprehension; to evade i t y i e l d s dry "cookbook" ethnography; but to succumb to i t , to f a i l to grasp at compromise, can only end i n s i l e n c e . The ethnographer who f a i l s to r i s k himself and h i s understanding i n steering a course between a pr i v a t e sense of experienced r e a l i t y and a communicable coherence ceases to be an ethnographer and becomes instead a mute voyeur, whose experiences (whatever t h e i r p r i v a t e import) have nothing to t e l l the world. What, then, to do? One tack would be to place the immediacy of the d e t a i l s and experiences of fieldwork at centre stage, as i n Read's exquisite account i n The High Valley (1965). Yet as a- general so l u t i o n such a course leaves much to be desired. Without the innate ta l e n t s of the n o v e l i s t , such "confessional ethnography" (as Wagner has c a l l e d i t ) must surely degenerate into a rambling and anecdotal miscellany, i t s e l f unfollowable and speaking with no p a r t i c u l a r relevance or urgency to any audience. While the best of t h i s genre claims the engagement of the reader through a f o r c e f u l encounter (by proxy) with another world, any but the best seems doomed to the status of a travelogue or the t r i t e and sentimentalist "gee whiz" romanticism that b e l i e s any r e a l comprehension. More t e l l i n g l y , the. attempt to l i n k the f i e l d experience to a relevance i n the reader's (and ethnographer's) world i s 7 surrendered. In the end, the question put to ethnography i s not merely "what was i t l i k e ? " but "what can i t teach us?". In t h i s d i s s e r t a t i o n , my argument i s that there i s something to be learned from T e l e f o l culture about the d i a l e c t i c between structure or order and man's pragmatic experience of the world. In anthropological discourse t h i s d i a l e c t i c i s refracted i n a number of d i f f e r e n t forms: structure vs. h i s t o r y (Levi-Strauss 1966); order vs. disorder (Douglas 1966, 1975); structure vs. a n t i - s t r u c t u r e (Turner 1969); convention vs. innovation (Wagner 2 1972, 1975); r a t i o n a l i z a t i o n vs. event (Burridge 1979); and so on. Each of these formulations takes the c e n t r a l d i a l e c t i c and pursues i t i n d i f f e r i n g d i r e c t i o n s , with d i f f e r i n g intent and r e s u l t s . Some.refer to the notion of order i n highly abstract terms, while for others order seems mainly to be understood i n a much more down-to-earth v e i n . Further, i t i s c l e a r that there are wide differences among these various authors i n terms of the t h e o r e t i c a l weight accorded one pole or other of the d i a l e c t i c . What a l l of these authors share i s an appreciation of the fact that human existence i s l i v e d out between the a v a i l a b l e terms of primary categories and an encounter with the r e a l i t i e s of a world to which the categories only imperfectly correspond; the d i s t i n c t i v e contribution that each of these authors makes i s the t h e o r e t i c a l place accorded t h i s appreciation. A b r i e f consideration of some of these author's works w i l l serve to orient the present discussion. Beginning with some of the work of Levi-Strauss, the notion of structure (counterpoised to that of history) seems p r i m a r i l y to r e f e r to c a t e g o r i c a l systems or schemes of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n , by means of which 8 both the s o c i a l and natural worlds are made i n t e l l i g i b l e (op. c i t . ) . Though much of h i s discussion seems r e c o n d i t e — a pursuit of i t s complex textures and turns would here d e r a i l our t r a i n of thought—a few s a l i e n t points w i l l e s t a b l i s h a sense of the nature of the problem. The key point i s that structure i s at odds with h i s t o r y , the l a t t e r embracing not only the notion of sequence or temporality, but also of contingency. In h i s d i s c u s s i o n of totemism i n The Savage Mind, Levi-Strauss considers the r e l a t i o n between totemic schemes of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n and h i s t o r y ( i n the f a m i l i a r sense of the succession of events) i n terms of a "never-ending struggle" between synchrony and diachrony (1966:231). A b i t further on, he says: [there i s ] a permanent c o n f l i c t between the s t r u c t u r a l nature of the c l a s s i f i c a t i o n and the s t a t i s t i c a l nature of i t s demographic basis. The c l a s s i f i c a t i o n tends to be dismantled l i k e a palace swept away upon the f l o o d , whose parts, through the e f f e c t of currents and stagnant waters, obstacles and s t r a i t s , come to be combined i n a manner other than that intended by the a r c h i t e c t . . . . The problem [totemism] has never ceased presenting to t h e o r i s t s i s that of the r e l a t i o n between structure and event. And the great lesson of totemism i s that the form of the structure can sometimes survive when the structure i t s e l f succumbs to events. There i s thus a sort of fundamental antipathy between h i s t o r y and systems of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n (p. 232). Leaving aside the p a r t i c u l a r focus of the argument on totemism, i t i s c l e a r from the above passage that h i s t o r y — t h e contingent event—endangers s t r u c t u r e — the i n t e g r i t y of a scheme of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n . But the r e l a t i o n i s not one-sided,, and i n another place i n the same work Levi-Strauss makes t h i s p l a i n when he writes: ...the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c feature of mythical thought, as of 'bricolage' on the p r a c t i c a l plane, i s that i t builds up structured sets, not d i r e c t l y with other structured sets but by using the remains and debris of events.... The r e l a t i o n between the diachronic and the synchronic i s therefore i n a sense reversed.... Mythical thought for i t s part i s imprisoned i n the events and experiences which i t never t i r e s of ordering and re-ordering i n i t s search to f i n d them a meaning. But i t also acts as a 9 l i b e r a t o r by i t s protest against the idea that anything can be meaningless... (pp. 21-2). Thus i t i s that while h i s t o r y threatens structure, structure (animated i n the a c t i v i t y of bricolage) musters a counter-attack through the medium of myth (or mythical thought), Though i t might be tempting to assume that the r e l a t i o n Levi-Strauss postulates between structure and h i s t o r y i s simply another version of the more f a m i l i a r old saw about "continuity i n change", i t seems a mistake to do so. Rather than being p r i m a r i l y oriented towards the issues of diachrony and synchrony as normally understood, he i s more concerned with (to use Monod's phrase) chance and necessity. This i s indicated i n various passages i n which the haphazard nature of events i s strongly opposed to the systematic (and systematizing) nature of l o g i c a l arrangement; necessity i n t h i s sense becomes the necessity of pattern or order, rather than that of causation. In t h i s sense, then, the r e l a t i o n between structure and h i s t o r y may be rewritten i n terms of the r e l a t i o n between coherence and incoherence, and t h i s preoccupation i s manifest i n other aspects of Levi-Strauss' work where temporality i s c l e a r l y not an issue. The c l e a r e s t and best-known example of t h i s i s i n Levi-Strauss' analysis of the myth of Asdiwal (1967). After a minutely d e t a i l e d consideration of t h i s Tsimshian myth, Levi-Strauss draws attention to the f a c t that i t o f f e r s a representation of customs ( i n t h i s case, residence rules) that do not correspond with the actual p r a c t i c e s of Tsimshian society. Eschewing the suggestion that such a representation i s the r e l i c of a previous phase of Tsimshian h i s t o r y , he instead concludes that the mythic representation acts as an i d e o l o g i c a l device to r a t i o n a l i z e c e r t a i n inconsistencies of a c t u a l usage. Thus myth serves not only to assert coherence i n the face of time, but 3 also i n the face of contradiction, inconsistency, and anomaly. 10 This cursory discussion s u f f i c e s to demonstrate two c r i t i c a l l i n e s of thought i n the work of Levi-Strauss. F i r s t l y , the awareness that s o c i a l l i f e — h e r e writ l a r g e — i s marked by a tension between the coherence of c u l t u r a l form and the r e c a l c i t r a n t exigencies of happenings i n the world. Secondly, there i s the suggestion that, on a manifestly i d e o l o g i c a l plane, c u l t u r a l formulations of order can operate not only to "domesticate" inchoate r e a l i t y , but also to obscure or mask i t . In t h i s Levi-Strauss affords a s i g n i f i c a n t departure from many e a r l i e r versions of the r e l a t i o n between events and t h e i r c u l t u r a l representation, for he a l e r t s us to the p o s s i b i l i t y that they are not simply two sides of one coin, but stand opposed. Further-more, t h i s leads d i r e c t l y to a consideration of the p o s s i b i l i t y that c u l t u r a l systems themselves may embody t h e i r own i n t e r n a l d i a l e c t i c and that the i n t e r n a l r e l a t i o n s within a culture may consist i n something other than harmonious i n t e g r a t i o n . Yet, while a l l of these advances must be acknowledged, i t must also be admitted that the general thrust of Levi-Strauss' work has been to place p r i o r i t y on the side of structure. With reference to myth, his general preoccupation has been to e s t a b l i s h the r e s i l i e n c e and resistance ,pf structure to h i s t o r y , and one suspects that i f a dynamism i s accorded to that i d e o l o g i c a l t i n k e r e r , the b r i c o l e u r , i t i s only so that the i n t e r e s t s of o r d e r - s t r i v i n g - f o r - s t a s i s may be advanced. His famous c i t a t i o n of Boas (Levi-Strauss 1966:21) serves to underscore the point: " i t would seem that mythological worlds have been b u i l t up, only to be shattered again, and that new worlds were b u i l t up from the fragments". The abstract issue of order confronting disorder has been explored d i r e c t l y by Mary Douglas, p a r t i c u l a r l y ..in Purity and Danger (1966), and more recently i n Implicit Meanings (1975). In the work of Douglas matters are not phrased i n terms of h i s t o r y or the d i s j u n c t i v e import of events, but are rather addressed from the perspective of the i n t e r n a l coherence of c a t e g o r i c a l 11 systems (equivalent f o r the purposes of discussion here to Levi-Strauss' st r u c t u r e ) . Her basic argument i s best approached through her discussion of tabu and the complementary processes of foregrounding and backgrounding. In Purity and Danger Douglas advances the thesis that tabu i s to be understood i n r e l a t i o n to the notion of contagion or p o l l u t i o n , the c u l t u r a l l y postulated consequence of the breach of tabu. The pr o s c r i p t i o n s of tabu are e s s e n t i a l l y p u r i t y r u l e s , hence observance i s rela t e d to breach as p u r i t y i s to p o l l u t i o n or as sec u r i t y i s to danger. Carrying her argument further, Douglas also argues that the ru l e s of tabu provide the s i g n i f i c a n t landmarks by which we may chart the dimensions of order i n cosmological systems: i t i s by such means that we can grasp an o v e r a l l system of categories i n a p a r t i c u l a r c u l t u r e , a system she denotes by the ru b r i c " c l a s s i f i c a t i o n " . Further, when we locate tabus within such a scheme, we are i d e n t i f y i n g those regions of the system where i t s i n t e g r i t y i s most vulnerable and where discreteness, d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n , and d i s j u n c t i o n must be enforced. It i s i n t h i s sense that the p r i n c i p l e of t a b u — s o c i a l l y enjoined avoidance—protects the very p r i n c i p l e s upon which a given c u l t u r a l order i s based, and the danger of a breach of tabu i s i n the end the threat posed to order i t s e l f . I t i s for such reasons that anomaly ( i n terms of a given set of categories) i s seen as both potent and dangerous (see, for example, her ana l y s i s of the Abominations of L e v i t i c u s [1966:54-72]). At bottom, the analysis turns upon a consideration of the r e l a t i o n between c u l t u r a l l y formulated order (formally viewed as c a t e g o r i c a l discreteness) and chaos (contagion, improper ju x t a p o s i t i o n , d i s s o l u t i o n of d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n ) . Tabu i s a s t r a t e g i c a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t focus for analysis because i t i s one of the means by which a system of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n defends i t s i n t e g r a l coherence. The order with which Douglas i s so preoccupied i s order both as an abstract p r i n c i p l e and as a symbolically constituted c u l t u r a l framework. Here she i s concerned with the c u l t u r a l l y defined shape of b e l i e f and experience. 12 She has accordingly devoted some energy to the understanding of the c u l t u r a l grounds of knowledge and perception. In reviewing her own work on these matters, she sums things up t h i s way: I started by considering the a priori i n nature. My in t e n t i o n was to show how a guts re a c t i o n i s founded. I argued that knowledge i n the bones, a gut response, answers to a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c i n the t o t a l pattern of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n . Something learnt f o r the f i r s t time „ can be judged i n s t a n t l y and s e l f - e v i d e n t l y true or f a l s e . This f l a s h of recognition would correspond to the split-second scanning of animal knowledge. The referents f o r t h i s kind of knowing are not p a r t i c u l a r external events, but the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of the c l a s s i f i c a t i o n system i t s e l f . We are t a l k i n g about the way the system has been set (1975:312). Here, then, the most s i g n i f i c a n t s i n g l e a t t r i b u t e of a system of knowing rooted i n c u l t u r a l c l a s s i f i c a t i o n must be an o v e r a l l coherence or consistency. In another passage, Douglas writes: In the normal process of i n t e r p r e t a t i o n , the e x i s t i n g scheme of assumptions tends to be protected from challenge, for the learner recognizes and absorbs cues which harmonize with past experience and usually ignores cues which are discordant. Thus, those assumptions which have worked w e l l before are reinforced. Because the s e l e c t i o n and treatment of new experiences v a l i d a t e s the p r i n c i p l e s which have been learned, the structure of established assumptions can be applied quickly and automatically to current problems of i n t e r p r e t a t i o n (1975:51). Such broad and r e l a t i v e l y abstract concerns are made relevant from an a n a l y t i c point of view when we examine the i d e o l o g i c a l content of b e l i e f systems. For example, Douglas suggests that among the Lele there cannot be any p o s s i b i l i t y of tr u t h . . . f o r the notion that menstrual blood i s harmless or that i t s contagion i s not conveyed through food cooked on a f i r e tended by a menstruating woman. The whole cosmos would topple i f such a piece of tendentious and obviously f a l s e information wete accepted (1975:4). This i s the sort of thing Douglas has i n mind when she discusses the notion of backgrounding—the s o c i a l suppression of information that f a i l s to accord with an o v e r a l l structure of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n . In other words, knowledge depends upon the organization of experience into coherent patterns, and the 13 coherence of such patterns comes only at the cost of a systematic screening of r e a l i t y which r e j e c t s information of a discordant nature: "...the cognitive drive to demand coherence and r e g u l a r i t y i n experience requires the destruction of some information for the sake of a more regular processing of the r e s t " .(1975:7)• In these terms, b e l i e f hinges on unbelief and knowledge depends upon ignorance i n a systematic way. The substantive focus of Douglas' work has been upon r e l i g i o n within the frame of t h i s theory, and her chief thrust has been to d e t a i l and demonstrate the ways i n which r e l i g i o u s observances exemplify and advance the i n t e r e s t s of order and coherence i n the face of p o t e n t i a l disorder. Like L e v i -Strauss, Douglas has sought to e s t a b l i s h the project of ordering at the centre of man's concerns. To t h i s extent, then, her own t h e o r e t i c a l p r e d i l e c t i o n s accord with Wagner's suggestion that most anthropologists seek to r a t i o n a l i z e c o n t r a d i c t i o n , paradox, and d i a l e c t i c rather than to trace out t h e i r implications. This gives r i s e to the suspicion that, for Douglas, the t h e o r e t i c a l r o l e of dissonance i s l a r g e l y n e g a t i v e — i t acts mainly as the f o i l 4 for the d e l i n e a t i o n of coherence, the true object of a n a l y s i s . This i s most clearly.:evldent-.ini,the;.stance she adopts with regard to myth: Since we are interested c e n t r a l l y i n how meanings are constituted, we would do well to avoid mythical material. Apart from being notoriously p l i a n t to the i n t e r p r e t e r ' s whim, i t i s thought i n r e l a t i v e l y free play. Myth s i t s above and athwart the exigencies of s o c i a l l i f e . I t i s capable of presenting one p i c t u r e and then i t s opposite. We are on more s o l i d ground by concentrating on b e l i e f s which are invoked e x p l i c i t l y to j u s t i f y behaviour (1975: 289). Here i t seems that Douglas has f a l l e n prey to her own theory of tabu, for she i s suggesting that because myth can o f f e r ambiguous or contradictory meaning i t should be avoided. I t s p o s i t i o n "above and athwart" i s a source of a n a l y t i c danger: therefore, i t should be made tabu. Turning her theory on i t s e l f , i t seems that t h i s i s one of the ways i n which the theory defends i t s e l f , by avoiding confrontation with the ambiguity of myth. As she has often reminded us, a new datum of experience i s stripped of i t s power over us i f i t can be domesticated and overcome by the power of proper placement. This a n a l y t i c strategy has i t s p r i c e . I t requires us, as Wagner has argued, to deny the c r e a t i v i t y of the peoples we study. Further, the analyst's invented abstr a c t i o n of culture takes on i t s own cloak of f a c t u a l i t y and subordinates the l e s s orderly r e a l i t i e s of the ethnographic experience to i t s schema (see Wagner 1978). In Douglas' case the f r e e play of thought i n myth becomes the very reason for denying i t a c e n t r a l t h e o r e t i c a l importance. This being the case, i t i s not so s u r p r i s i n g that the ultimate import of many of Douglas' analyses of other peoples' r e l i g i o n s forces the conclusion that they are f a l s i f i c a t i o n s of r e a l i t y a n d — s o c i a l l y u s e f u l though they may b e — i l l u s i o n s . This i s c l e a r l y not Douglas' intent: i t i s merely one of the consequences of the preoccupation with coherence i n the frame of a theory that i t s e l f recognizes the l i m i t a t i o n s of coherence. This i s a problem which Douglas h e r s e l f perceives, but one which has remained as a problem. Thus, i n the opening passages of Puvity and Danger, the d i f f i c u l t y i s recognized, i f not met: It may seem that i n a culture r i c h l y organized by ideas of contagion and p u r i f i c a t i o n the i n d i v i d u a l i s i n the g r i p of iron-hard categories of thought which are heavily safe-guarded by rules of avoidance and punishments. I t may seem impossible for such a person to shake h i s own thought: free.of the protected habit-grooves of h i s c u l t u r e . How can he turn round upon his own thought-processes and contemplate i t s l i m i t a t i o n s ? And yet, i f he cannot do t h i s , how can h i s r e l i g i o n be compared with the great r e l i g i o n s of the world? (p. 16) Though both Levi-Strauss and Douglas have explored the a c t i v e i n t e r p l a y between the structure of c u l t u r a l categories and experience of the world, the emphasis has been upon the triumph of order, determinacy, and closure over the openness and indeterminate f l u x of raw r e a l i t y . Recognizing the imperfect f i t between the two, they have been concerned to underscore s t r u c t u r a l coherence: order has received a n a l y t i c a l p r i o r i t y , and to t h i s 15 extent the d i a l e c t i c i s one-sided. This stance i s grounded i n the assumption, occasionally given voice, that man i s f i r s t and foremost an orderly creature who seeks—and n e e d s — t o impose h i s order upon the world. I t i s i n t h i s l i g h t that many of the p e c u l i a r i t i e s of human experience are to be apprehended. Such a view has an assured place i n anthropological thought. But i t contains one d i f f i c u l t y only incompletely recognized i n the main run of anthropological theory: i f man i s indeed a world-ordering creature, the constructed nature of s o c i a l r e a l i t y implies not only that c u l t u r e i s a creation, but that i t i s i t s e l f (and not merely the external world) subject to reformulation. That i s , man not only reconstructs nature, but reconstructs t h i s construction. This i s at l e a s t i m p l i c i t i n Levi-Strauss' suggestion that myth takes as i t s object the structure of c u l t u r a l categories, and such an appreciation i s likewise i m p l i c i t i n Douglas' notion that the dangers addressed by tabu are not those rooted i n the external world but those embedded i n a c u l t u r a l scheme of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n . To t h i s extent, then, the various components of c u l t u r a l systems are themselves d i a l e c t i c a l l y engaged, and a l l of t h i s implies a r e f l e x i v e awareness on the part of the people who make up p a r t i c u l a r s o c i e t i e s . The chief d i f f i c u l t y of both Douglas and Levi-Strauss on t h i s question i s that, given the p o s i t i v e value accorded paradigmatic closure and consistency, i t becomes hard to see how r e f l e x i v e awareness i s possible or how c r e a t i v i t y can operate to do more than underwrite the i d e o l o g i c a l status, quo when faced with challenge. The image i s one of human c r e a t i v i t y r e s t r i c t e d to shoring up, defending, and patching up a system jeopardized by i t s engagement with the world. It i s as though the aim of human a c t i v i t y i s to bring the world to a h a l t , to sew up and lock up p o s s i b i l i t y and achieve s t a s i s : f i x i t y i s the goal. This way of looking at things i s for the most part implied i n the p r a c t i c e of s o c i a l anthropology. Often i t i s no more than what i s deemed a necessary convenience, and i t s basis, no doubt, i s simply a device permitting 16 the working assumption that an anthropological account (which i s , by d e f i n i t i o n , a f i n i t e text) corresponds i n some way to a determinate r e a l i t y . This i s , i n f a c t , a second-order r e f l e c t i o n of the very problem to which Douglas' theory i s addressed: the fa c t that r e a l i t i e s are only incompletely reducible to a r t i c u l a t i o n i n orderly schemes. Yet there i s a r e l a t i v e l y small number of anthropologists who have, to my mind, attempted to. come to grips with these d i f f i c u l t i e s , and t h e i r work i s marked by the e f f o r t they have taken to accommodate r e f l e x i v i t y and openness within t h e i r accounts. I t i s to a consideration of three such workers that the discussion now turns. One of the most c r e a t i v e and i n f l u e n t i a l thinkers i n the anthropological study of r e l i g i o n and symbolism i s V i c t o r Turner. What i s most s i g n i f i c a n t f o r present purposes i s that Turner's analyses are marked by a recurrent s e n s i t i v i t y to the importance of ambiguity i n human experience. While the body of Turner's work i s vast, I wish to concentrate on some of h i s key a n a l y t i c a l concepts, p a r t i c u l a r l y the notions of l i m i n a l i t y , a n t i -structure, and the m u l t i v o c a l i t y of symbols (see, e.g., Turner 1962, 1967, 1969, 1974). The key point of departure i n the development of Turner's ideas on r i t u a l and symbolism i s afforded by. the e a r l y work of van Gennep (1960) on r i t e s of passage. Starting from the notion that a society may be conceived i n terms of a set of categories into which i t s members may be sorted ( i . e . , statuses), van Gennep drew attention to the fa c t that t r a n s i t i o n s from one category to the next tend to be marked by r i t u a l . From t h i s derives an understanding of r i t u a l as predominantly transformative i n nature, and the c r i t i c a l mandate of r i t u a l a c t i o n i s the traversing of the c a t e g o r i c a l boundaries of a given cu l t u r e . Though van Gennep contented himself mainly with the documentation of t h i s seminal ins i g h t and a b r i e f exposition of the t r i p a r t i t e phase structure of r i t u a l , Turner concentrated at t e n t i o n on the t h e o r e t i c a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t aspects of the " i n betweenness" i m p l i c i t i n r i t u a l so defined (see, e.g., 1967:93-111). In van Gennep's scheme of r i t u a l phases, the process of transformation (the passage from one c a t e g o r i c a l state to another) i s accomplished i n three steps: separation (from the old status or category); the l i m i n a l phase, during which the p a r t i c i p a n t l i e s outside any f i r m l y f i x e d c a t e g o r i c a l d e f i n i t i o n ; and the f i n a l phase of reaggregation, i n which the now-transformed p a r t i c i p a n t i s once more incorporated within the society's c a t e g o r i c a l framework. At an abstract plane of discussion, t h i s means simply that to e f f e c t a t r a n s i t i o n from category A to category B, there must be an intervening period during which the i n d i v i d u a l making the t r a n s i t i o n i s i n the ambiguous p o s i t i o n of being neither i n category A nor B. For the most part, the s i g n i f i c a n c e of t h i s state of a f f a i r s went l a r g e l y unexplored for several decades; Marcel Mauss i s reputed to have dismissed van Gennep's work by commenting that i t was generally understood that everything had a beginning, middle, and end anyway. In hi s a r t i c l e , "Betwixt and between...", Turner suggests we devote more at t e n t i o n to.the l i m i n a l phase of r i t u a l a c t i v i t y . Starting from the idea of society as a structure of p o s i t i o n s , he makes the case that i n examining the " i n t e r s t r u c t u r a l " s i t u a t i o n s of r i t u a l we may at once a r r i v e at an i n s i g h t into common but otherwise perplexing features of i n i t i a t i o n r i t e s and, on a more general l e v e l , lay bare the fundamental p r i n c i p l e s governing the structure of s o c i e t i e s and the means whereby i n d i v i d u a l s r e f l e c t upon them. Referring to Douglas (1966) and her suggestion that the concept of p o l l u t i o n " i s a r e a c t i o n to protect cherished p r i n c i p l e s and categories from cont r a d i c t i o n " , Turner suggests that while t r a n s i t i o n a l ( i . e . , l i m i n a l ) personae are indeed generally considered p o l l u t i n g and are segregated from society as a whole, there are important differences between states a r i s i n g from the infringement of tabu and r i t u a l states: 18 I think that we may perhaps u s e f u l l y discriminate here between the s t a t i c s and dynamics of p o l l u t i o n s i t u a t i o n s . In other words, we may have to d i s t i n g u i s h between p o l l u t i o n notions which concern states that have been ambiguously or c o n t r a d i c t o r i l y defined, and those which derive from r i t u a l i z e d t r a n s i t i o n s between states. In the f i r s t case, we are dealing with what has been d e f e c t i v e l y defined or ordered, i n the second with what cannot be defined i n s t a t i c terms. We are not dealing with s t r u c t u r a l contradictions when we discuss l i m i n a l i t y , but with the e s s e n t i a l l y unstructured (which i s at once destructured and prestructured) and often the people themselves see t h i s i n terms of bringing neophytes into close connection with d e i t y or with superhuman power, with what i s , i n f a c t , often regarded as the unbounded, the i n f i n i t e , the l i m i t l e s s (1967:97-8). If we ask i n what way such states d i f f e r from the.-pollution!situations to.which Douglas r e f e r s , there are two main respects: while p o l l u t i o n ( i n Douglas' sense) i s to be avoided, the t r a n s i t i o n a l states to which Turner r e f e r s are a c t i v e l y produced and passage through them i s deemed e s s e n t i a l to the development of the members of the society; secondly, while p o l l u t i o n r u les are inherently conservative i n t h e i r import, the aims of r i t u a l are dynamic and transformative. For Turner the l i m i n a l aspect of r i t u a l ( p a r t i c u l a r l y but not exc l u s i v e l y i n the case of i n i t i a t o r y r i t e s ) has a clear and s i g n i f i c a n t r e f l e x i v e import, for the systematic destructuring of c u l t u r a l frameworks permits and i n v i t e s a wrestling with the given: In discussing the s t r u c t u r a l aspects of l i m i n a l i t y , I mentioned how neophytes are withdrawn from t h e i r s t r u c t u r a l positions and consequently from the values, norms, sentiments, and techniques associated with those p o s i t i o n s . They are also divested of t h e i r previous habits of thought, f e e l i n g , and action. During the l i m i n a l period, neophytes are a l t e r n a t e l y forced and encouraged to think about t h e i r society, t h e i r cosmos, and the powers that generate and sustain them. L i m i n a l i t y may be p a r t l y described as a stage of r e f l e c t i o n . In i t those ideas, sentiments, and fact s that had been hitherto for the neophytes bound up i n configurations and accepted unthinkingly are, as i t were, resolved into t h e i r constituents. These constituents are i s o l a t e d and made into objects of r e f l e c t i o n for the neophytes by such processes as componential exaggeration and d i s s o c i a t i o n by varying concomitants (1967:105). Turner underscores t h i s point a b i t further on when he suggests that l i m i n a l i t y "breaks, as i t were, the cake of custom and enfranchises speculation" , (p. 106). C l e a r l y Turner's work touches upon issues akin to those previously discussed, but ju s t as c l e a r l y h i s a n a l y t i c strategy embraces rather than eschews the d i s j u n c t i o n between structure and experience. In the process he points the way towards a r e s o l u t i o n of the d i f f i c u l t y that seems to have troubled Douglas. Here, as i n so much else, i t seems that to confront the bogey i s to overcome i t . Far from evading con t r a d i c t i o n , paradox, and ambiguity, Turner has turned them to account, and i n h i s hands they become potent a n a l y t i c resources. One of h i s e a r l i e s t and most masterful (and, one might add, brave) demonstrations i s i n Chihamba (1962), a b r i e f work i n which many key points are adumbrated. Two of the most f r u i t f u l ideas subsequently developed are the notions of a n t i - s t r u c t u r e and the m u l t i v o c a l i t y of symbols, and i t i s to these that we now turn. The concept of a n t i - s t r u c t u r e i s introduced i n The Ritual Process (1969). Breathing new l i f e into van Gennep's insi g h t that r i t u a l e n t a i l s a departure or break from the everyday terms of experience, Turner treats the reader to a se r i e s of analyses u n i f i e d by the c e n t r a l thesis that the project of r i t u a l i s to inve r t , suspend, or otherwise transcend structure (on both symbolic and s o c i a l planes). In the process such issues as the r e l a t i o n of sacred to profane and the s i g n i f i c a n c e of status r e v e r s a l come i n for sustained attention.~* Perhaps most s i g n i f i c a n t l y , he demonstrates with recourse to Ndembu r i t u a l that paradox, mystery, and absurdity become powerful and productive resources for the r e s o l u t i o n of the necessarily fragmentary nature of s o c i a l l y ordered experience. F i n a l l y , i n h i s discussion of the character of r i t u a l symbolism, he repeatedly stresses the fac t that, rather than being ordered as signs ( i n a code of one-to-one correspondences between s i g n i f i e r and s i g n i f i e d ) i n paradigmatic sets, they e x h i b i t the properties of condensation, unification of disparate referents and polarization of meaning, A sin g l e symbol, i n f a c t , represents many things at the .same time: i t i s multivocal, not univocal. I t s referents are not a l l of the same l o g i c a l order but are drawn from many domains of s o c i a l experience and e t h i c a l evaluation (p. 52; emphasis i n o r i g i n a l ) . Here we may-note for the time being that the thesis of m u l t i v o c a l i t y has several important consequences. A c l e a r intimation i s that such symbols are inherently ambiguous, and that t h e i r meaning i s i n p r i n c i p l e open-ended and to an important extent indeterminate: they work by im p l i c a t i o n , and to the extent that they are powerful i t i s p r e c i s e l y because t h e i r import i s i n d e f i n i t e . ^ Turner's work points to an important s h i f t i n the apprehension of the r e l a t i o n between structure and experience, for h i s view of the nature and r o l e of r i t u a l and i t s symbolism suggests that these facets of culture are to be regarded not as structure, but as a n t i - s t r u c t u r e . That i s , t h e i r s i g n i f i c a n c e i s not p r i m a r i l y found i n the representation of the s t r u c t u r a l givens within which experience i s normally framed, but rather i n the reformulation of them. Further, a c r i t i c a l aspect of t h i s way of looking at things i s that openness and indeterminacy become c e n t r a l to our understanding and are not to be understood as defects of the system under consideration, but rather as c r u c i a l properties. Here, i t may be p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y added, we have the germ of a theory of man and cu l t u r e that leaves room for two of the most important features of human language and consciousness: self-reference and the self-transcendence implied i n the concept of crea t i v i t y . ' ' In most anthropological thought the notion of c r e a t i v i t y i s conspicuous by i t s absence. This i s , i t seems to me, a t h e o r e t i c a l defect of major proportions. Against t h i s p r e v a i l i n g neglect, however, the work of Roy Wagner stands c l e a r l y apart. Animated by a d i a l e c t i c a l s p i r i t , he has d e l i b e r a t e l y and c o n s i s t e n t l y sought to challenge and depart from the 21 presumptive v e r i t i e s of received thought, one of the f i n e s t examples of which i s h i s paper e n t i t l e d "Are there s o c i a l groups i n the New Guinea Highlands?" (1974). In a f l u r r y of f l i n g i n g gauntlets, Wagner c a l l s into question the very foundations of s o c i a l anthropology i n h i s challenge of the "as i f " assumption, the analyst's working notion that h i s terms of reference correspond to the ethnographic world he attempts to piece together (pp. 102-5). This v a r i e t y of the "myth, of transparency" (see Kermode 1979) i s , i n t h i s p a r t i c u l a r paper, embodied i n the notion that the anthropologist armed with a theory of s o c i a l structure based on the concept of corporate groups does no!: more than discover such groups i n h i s ethnographic m i l i e u . While his argument i s i n the f i r s t instance a development of Levi-Strauss' remarks about the epistemological status of s o c i a l structure as a model (see p. 4 above), Wagner drives the point home i n the following passage: • When an anthropologist sums up the l i v e s and imaginations of h i s subjects i n a determinist "system" of h i s own c o n t r i v i n g , trapping t h e i r fancies and i n c l i n a t i o n s within the n e c e s s i t i e s of h i s own economies, ecologies, and l o g i c s , he asserts the p r i o r i t y of h i s own mode of c r e a t i v i t y over t h e i r s . He substitutes h i s own , ("heuristic") making of groups, orders, organizations, l o g i c s f or the way i n which "the natives" make t h e i r c o l l e c t i v i t i e s . And i t i s t h i s "native" mode of making society, rather than i t s curious s i m i l a r i t i e s to our own notions of groups, economics, or consistency, that compels our i n t e r e s t here (1974:103-4). The notion of c r e a t i v i t y i s for Wagner a c e n t r a l and abiding concern (see e s p e c i a l l y 1975, 1972). Further, he i s at pains to close the loop and show— r e f l e x i v e l y — t h a t i n regard to t h i s the anthropologist and h i s subjects are not fundamentally d i f f e r e n t : ...we are creators no le s s than the peoples we study, and we must take heed of our own c r e a t i v i t y as w e l l as t h e i r s . To put i t somewhat d i f f e r e n t l y , the assumption of c r e a t i v i t y puts the anthropologist on a par with h i s subjects; the native, too, i s an "anthropologist," with a "working hypothesis" of h i s own regarding h i s way of l i f e . And regardless of how we wish to put that way of l i f e together, we must come to terms with i t s own "theory" as a matter of p r o f e s s i o n a l and e t h i c a l o b l i g a t i o n . This 22 kind of science, which treats a subject matter of the same order of phenomenal existence as i t s own hypotheses and conclusions, i s a comparative latecomer (p. 120). In brave words such as these Wagner places the inherently r e f l e x i v e nature of anthropology as a d i s c i p l i n e at the centre of h i s work. This can and does lead to p e r p l e x i t i e s and o b s c u r i t i e s ( i f not obscurantism), but the c e n t r a l message i s that these are to be confronted rather than e x i l e d to the never-neverland of things we a l l know but need not bother about. How a l l of these things work out i n athropological p r a c t i c e i s best seen from a look at Wagner's Rabu, bearing the s i g n i f i c a n t s u b t i t l e , The Innovation of Meaning in Daribi Religion (1972). Basing hi s argument on a va r i a n t of the tensive theory of metaphor, Wagner organizes the book around a d i a l e c t i c between what he c a l l s ideology and innovation, the l a t t e r being g equivalent to h i s term "metaphorization" (pp. 3-13). Although the general shape of the d i a l e c t i c , i n terms of the i n t e r p l a y between structured f i x i t y and open-endedness, bears a family resemblance to the Levi-Straussian formulation of the r e l a t i o n between structure and h i s t o r y , there are several supremely c r i t i c a l d i f f e r e n c e s . Levi-Strauss, i t w i l l be r e c a l l e d , affords some recognition to c r e a t i v i t y with h i s notion of bricolage. But for L e v i -Strauss t h i s reworking of s t r u c t u r a l elements has something of the character of a salvage operation. In the perhaps too uncharitable words of Geertz, the image i s of some uprooted n e o l i t h i c i n t e l l i g e n c e cast away on a reservation, s h u f f l i n g the debris of old t r a d i t i o n s i n the vain attempt to r e v i v i f y a p r i m i t i v e f a i t h whose moral beauty i s s t i l l apparent but from which both relevance and c r e d i b i l i t y have long since departed (1973: 359) . For Wagner, metaphorization i s a mode of a c t i v i t y whose aim i s not r e s t o r a t i o n but creation and extension. Further, i t i s not merely a response to the external stimulus of events, but an a c t i v e exploration of p o s s i b i l i t y based upon the r e f l e x i v e grappling with the given, an attempt to transcend or at l e a s t r e v i s e the n e c e s s a r i l y l i m i t e d terms of structure, that i s , of what he c a l l s ideology. From such a point of view, culture i s indeed c r e a t i v i t y . Since an understanding of Wagner's perspective—which i s by and large that adopted i n the course of t h i s d i s s e r t a t i o n — i s c r i t i c a l to a l l of the issues so f a r raised, I w i l l devote a f a i r amount of at t e n t i o n to h i s ideas. Here I w i l l p e r s i s t i n the simple expedient of quoting in extenso. At the core of Habu l i e s the following proposition: Meaning i s created by the formation of metaphors inv o l v i n g the formal elements of a c u l t u r e . The r e l a t i o n s h i p among s p e c i f i c metaphors within a culture can be.either one of complementarity (consistency) or of innovation ( c o n t r a d i c t i o n ) . A set of complementary metaphors, whose meanings are consistent, constitutes an ideology, but the d i s t i n c t ideologies stand i n an innovative r e l a t i o n s h i p to one another, that i s , they achieve t h e i r meaning by metaphorizing, and hence contradicting, one another (1972: 7-8). The key concept here i s that of metaphorization, and t h i s ultimately derives from a sense of metaphor which focuses upon i t s departure from l e x i c a l l y s p e c i f i e d meaning (see, e.g., Ricoeur 1977, 1978). As perhaps the most fundamental form of c r e a t i v i t y i n language, metaphor proceeds by transcending and (through a r e c i p r o c i t y of implication) transforming l e x i c a l s i g n i f i c a t i o n 9 embodied i n semantic categories. Metaphor i s thus not only extensive, but i s , i n a p r i o r sense, tensive: i t generates meaning p r e c i s e l y because i t v i o l a t e s ("breaks, twists") paradigmatic d e f i n i t i o n . This metaphor i t s e l f e x p l o i t s , i n the analysis of cu l t u r e , the already-given ( s t a b i l i z e d , "decayed") metaphor of culture as language. I t turns upon a c o n s i d e r a t i o n — a s with van Gennep, L e v i -Strauss, Douglas, and T u r n e r — o f the nature of conceptual (and semantic) boundaries whose s p e c i f i c a t i o n and d e f i n i t i o n underlie the formal notion of structure. In terms of an o v e r a l l view of the way i n which culture works, the general conception i s of opposing tugs and p u l l s , not balancing or c a n c e l l i n g each other out i n some homeostatic fashion, but r e s u l t i n g i n an ongoing d i a l e c t i c of transformation: Metaphor constitutes the dynamic expression of a meaningful r e l a t i o n i n a culture; through i t s combination of contrast and analogy i t generates r e l a t i o n s of opposition i n which elements remain d i s t i n c t from one another and are yet interdependent (Wagner 1972:6). And i n another passage: "...the conceptual basis of a culture can never be adequately summed up as a l o g i c a l ordering or a closed system of i n t e r n a l l y consistent propositions" (1972:10), Most importantly, t h i s state of a f f a i r s i s the opportunity by means of which c r e a t i v i t y finds scope, a c u l t u r a l resource to be exploited. This emerges c l e a r l y again at the end of Habu when Wagner considers the p o s i t i o n of the i n d i v i d u a l i n t h i s context: In f a c t , i t might be said that an i n d i v i d u a l learns to "use" h i s c u l t u r e , to perform operations upon i t , by "breaking" r u l e s , that i s , by extending words and other learned s i g n i f i e r s beyond t h e i r defined areas of s i g n i f i c a t i o n (p. 171). In terms of the ethnography with which he i s concerned, Wagner adduces several instances of what he outlines i n t h e o r e t i c a l terms. Thus, the D a r i b i habu curing r i t e i s analyzed as a metaphoric transformation of D a r i b i funeral p r a c t i c e s , while the bidi -nvd sat dance i s seen as an " a n t i - f u n e r a l " (pp. 145-63). Likewise, the "invention of immortality" v i a ghosts gives r i s e to the "impersonation" of ghosts i n the seances of the sogoyezibidi. (pp. 130-44). And so o n . ^ There i s , i t seems to me, a c l e a r a f f i n i t y between these ideas and some of those developed by Turner for the analysis of r i t u a l . The s t r a t e g i c s i g n i f i c a n c e of metaphor, the transformative trope, i s d e c i s i v e for Wagner's analysis, and metaphor likewise becomes c e n t r a l to some of Turner's more recent work (see, e.g., 1974). Wagner's stress on the open-endedness of metaphoric predication and i m p l i c a t i o n r e c a l l s i n a d i f f e r e n t r e g i s t e r Turner's focus on l i m i n a l i t y and the insistence upon the m u l t i v o c a l i t y of symbols. For both, the d i a l e c t i c of f i x i t y and f l u x i s located l e s s i n the 25 envelopment of structure i n the events of the external world than i n the inner recesses of cu l t u r e i t s e l f . For Turner, the impression point i s i n the i n t e r p l a y and transcendance of s t r u c t u r a l d e f i n i t i o n s i n r i t u a l ; for Wagner the locus of the dynamic i s between the inconsistencies and i n t e r n a l contradictions afforded by cu l t u r e . For both, the determinate and closed character of what Turner c a l l s structure and Wagner terms i d e o l o g y — a mutually r e i n f o r c i n g c o n s i s t e n c y — i s seen not simply as s t a b i l i t y , order, or security (as per Levi-Strauss and Douglas), but as l i m i t a t i o n ; f o r both Turner and Wagner, man's project seems at bottom to be the transcendance of l i m i t a t i o n through r i t u a l (Turner) and metaphorization (Wagner). The chief divergence between the two seems to be i n terms of the object of transformation. In the main thrust of Turner's thought, the object of transformation i s p r i m a r i l y the awareness of the i n d i v i d u a l ; f o r Wagner, the object of transformation i s c u l t u r a l meaning."^ For both, f i n i t u d e stands opposed to l i f e , v i t a l i t y , and r e a l i t y . A l l of the themes so far discussed have been extended and developed i n the work of Burridge, whose wr i t i n g has c o n s i s t e n t l y sought a r e f l e x i v e course i n which the d i a l e c t i c of s e l f and other, structure and h i s t o r y , what i s and what might be has been given f u l l play. Through a l l of t h i s runs a pervasive concern with the nature of experience, i t s representation, and the meaning which may be construed from i t . The f i r s t major exposition of these themes i s i n Mambu: a Melanesian Millennium (1960). In t h i s book the confrontation between structure and experience i s displayed as a continual and multi-layered process of becoming, i t s c e n t r a l arena being the c o l l e c t i v e dialogue among Tangu about the p o s s i b i l i t i e s to be puzzled out and grasped i n a context where received wisdom, present a c t u a l i t y , and moral awareness a l l s t r a i n i n d i f f e r e n t d i r e c t i o n s . The p i v o t a l focus of Mambu i s the epistemological and moral c o n t r a d i c t i o n between the indigenous conception of man and h i s proper modes of 26 being with the new terms of manhood demanded i n the Tangu experience of Europeans. Here both human knowing and human action are c a l l e d into question, and the urgent task which Tangu faced was the formulation of a synthesis i n which the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of a new man and a new awareness might be r e a l i z e d . The conventional r u b r i c for t h i s dynamic and c o l l e c t i v e s t r i v i n g for new terms of experience and new ways of being i s the anthropological term "cargo c u l t " . Though such movements, accompanied by new ideologies and new p r e s c r i p t i o n s , have marked Melanesian h i s t o r y for as long as we have noted i t , they evaded the centre stage of anthropological a t t e n t i o n f o r decades. One suspects that (with some exceptions, e.g., Hogbin 1939, 1951) t h i s was c h i e f l y because such things ran against the grain of what anthropology saw as proper to i t s concerns and susceptible of t h e o r e t i c a l treatment. Given the p r e d i s p o s i t i o n to see cultures as i n t e g r a l l y ordered systems, c o l l e c t i v e attempts to redefine c u l t u r a l givens could only be taken as aberrant, counter to entrenched t h e o r e t i c a l premises, s o c i a l l y d i s r u p t i v e , and i n d i c a t i v e of breakdown. Perhaps as importantly, cargo c u l t s have tended to be viewed i n both p r o f e s s i o n a l and popular eyes as manifestations of i r r a t i o n a l i t y , c o l l e c t i v e h y s t e r i a , and madness (see, e.g., Schwartz 1971, Williams 1923). In a discussion of anthropological dilemmas of ethnographic a r t i c u l a t i o n , Burridge affords a r e t r o s p e c t i v e view of h i s own work which condenses the problem i n the following terms: Religious movements are surely never boring: they always introduce something new. That i s , a f t e r a l l , t h e i r burden and purpose. But there comes a time when one becomes jaded with reading and w r i t i n g about them. Forced into the orthodoxies of anthropological or s o c i o l o g i c a l systemics they put on the corruption of what they ought to be rather than what they are. What was o r i g i n a l and unique becomes l i k e any other, an i l l u s i o n created by system. The t r u t h of things escapes. Even where the very r e a l transformational vigours of a r e l i g i o u s movement are not made to seem c h i l d i s h , delusory, or due to mental aberrations or s o c i e t a l or i n d i v i d u a l malfunctionings, the systemics make uniform. The truths of experience die, the funereal trappings of a f a m i l i a r and given paradigm measure 27 a p r o f e s s i o n a l status against common standards of what i s cu r r e n t l y acceptable i n the d i s c i p l i n e . Only occasionally does something catch the eye and engage the a t t e n t i o n . Then, looking at t h i s something more c l o s e l y , we see that, l i k e the yellow sparkle i n the grey sand of a prospector's pan, i t i s a nugget that has escaped the systemic. If the t r u t h about what i s new i s not to become j u s t another instance of the human proneness to orderly i l l u s i o n , a given system must surely admit and y i e l d to the i n i t i a l l y d i s o r d e r l y t r u t h — w h i c h alone can, i n the course of time, give b i r t h to a new and more v i a b l e system (Burridge n . d , : l ) . And, more pointedly r e f e r r i n g to Mambu: ...the material that was to make Mambu began f a l l i n g into place i n my mind. Awkwardly, i t i s true, and i n no neat f i t . Theory and paradigms did not and could not matter... Most important...was my resolve that such reading as I did should only help me be true to the ethnography as I saw and experienced i t . Then the material could f i n d i t s own ordering. In short, I wanted to use the ( a l b e i t peripheral) involvement with and experience of p a r t i c u l a r a c t i v i t i e s to explicate those same a c t i v i t i e s i n the l i g h t of that part of the experiencing which remained r e l a t i v e l y uninvolved. Not an abnormal procedure—except that, as has been noted i n r e l a t i o n p r i m a r i l y to Rivers and Levi-Strauss, the use of what appear to be the properties of a phenomenon to explicate the phenomenon does not come so e a s i l y i n anthropology; and that, d o c t r i n a l l y and dogmatically, the use i n anthropology of the properties of r e l i g i o u s experience to explicate r e l i g i o u s a c t i v i t i e s has been taboo: being epiphenomenal, i r r a t i o n a l and unreal by d e f i n i t i o n , r e l i g i o u s a c t i v i t i e s have to be explained (away) by other modes. As w e l l explicate a motor v e h i c l e i n terms of a horse or vice-versa (pp. 23-4). Substantively, t h i s stance has led to a consideration of topics that for the most part remained i n the shadows and out of the s p o t l i g h t of s o c i a l anthropology: the r o l e of the prophet (Mambu himself), an i n d i v i d u a l i n whom the ambiguities and contradictions of the world as given and as experienced are reformulated i n a v i s i o n of what may be, a d e n i a l of what was h i t h e r t o accepted to be the case; the dilemmas of everyday experience i n the world, the truth that image and r e a l i t y are i n tension, and that imagination can transform the terms i n which r e a l i t y i s seized; the nature of p r e s c r i p t i v e m o r a l i t i e s , which define how men should be and o f f e r means to a t t a i n honour while burdening them with o b l i g a t i o n , posing problems of choice, embodying contradictions and f o r c i n g l i m i t a t i o n s on impulses to freedom which seek transcendance of such confines; the dynamic of dream and myth wherein sign-posts from the past and an urgently sensed present reshape each other to point towards p o s s i b i l i t i e s latent but not yet reached; the embeddedness of the s e l f i n a matrix of s o c i a l l y defined personhood to which the imperatives of the i n d i v i d u a l o f f e r challenge; the l o c a t i o n of the heart of r e l i g i o n i n a sense of the numinous (cf. Otto 1958); f i n a l l y , and perhaps most importantly, the insistence that p r o f e s s i o n a l concerns i n anthropology must speak to the ethnographic encounter with otherness that i s at once an engagement with fellow beings of one's own kind (see Burridge 1960, 1969, 1973, 1975, 1979, n.d.). In a l l of t h i s , the themes of Levi-Strauss, Douglas, Turner, and Wagner outlined above f i n d expression: structure and h i s t o r y come to terms i n the Tangu movement to new orders and new awareness; the anomalous and discordant are revealed both as threatening and as beckoning with the prospects of the power to transcend the f i n i t e (see e s p e c i a l l y the provocative explication-of the Tangu category imbatekas, 1969); the f i x i t y of structure i s shaken and suspended i n r i t e and myth, e l i c i t i n g new perspectives; culture and meaning are c r e a t i v i t y , with man as producer as well as product of experience. The success with which t h i s stance can be adopted hinges upon the r e f u s a l to subordinate experience—both one's own and that of one's ethnographic " s u b j e c t s " — t o the reassuring determinations of a paradigmatic system. To close the rather large c i r c l e I have been t r y i n g to trace, ambiguity, co n t r a d i c t i o n , paradox, and d i a l e c t i c must be given t h e i r due. Before proceeding to give firm outlines to what i t i s I a c t u a l l y attempt to do i n t h i s d i s s e r t a t i o n , I w i l l close off t h i s part of the discussion with some words by Buber, who suggests the shape of a p h i l o s o p h i c a l anthropology: the p h i l o s o p h i c a l anthropologist must stake nothing l e s s than h i s r e a l wholeness, h i s concrete s e l f . And more; i t i s not enough for him to stake h i s s e l f as an object of knowledge. He can know the wholeness of the 29 person and through i t the wholeness of man only when he does not leave h i s subjectivity out and does not remain an untouched observer. He must enter, completely and i n r e a l i t y , into the act of s e l f - r e f l e c t i o n , i n order to become aware of human wholeness. In other words, he must carry out t h i s act of entry into that unique dimension as an act of h i s life, without any prepared p h i l o s o p h i c a l security; that i s , he must expose himself to a l l that can meet you when you are r e a l l y l i v i n g (1973:153). I began t h i s section with a consideration of the place of fieldwork i n anthropology and departed from there to a consideration of the anthropological address to questions of the r e l a t i o n between structure and experience. Let me now state c l e a r l y the premise that l i e s at the core of what follows: the ethnographic enterprise consists i n balancing the claims of coherence against the often untidy experience of r e a l i t y ; not only a pragmatic fieldwork problem, t h i s i s also the subject of a considerable range of e x p l i c i t theory, though often divorced from a sense of the linkage between these two l e v e l s of the problem; my own understanding of T e l e f o l culture says to me that the r e l a t i o n between a r t i c u l a t e order and men's experience i s likewise of concern to them. In the balance of the d i s s e r t a t i o n , I attempt to t e l l the reader how Telefolmin seek t h e i r own r e s o l u t i o n . I f what I have so far said i s accepted, t h i s cannot f a i l to inform us about x^ ho Telefolmin are, how anthropology should understand t h i s , and, perhaps, what i t i s to be human. A f r i e n d l y c r i t i c remarked to me once that one of my pieces about Telefolmin sounded more l i k e a credo than an anthropological a n a l y s i s . This I take as an unintended compliment. The f a c t s of T e l e f o l ethnography do not speak for themselves: I speak for them, and i n the course of t h i s I cannot help but also speak for myself. i i . The Plan of the D i s s e r t a t i o n I have alluded to Telefolmin above without giving the reader much to go on by way of forming a p i c t u r e of t h i s people. Telefolmin number perhaps 3500 or so and are d i s t r i b u t e d somewhat unevenly among twenty-odd v i l l a g e s i n the mountains of the Sepik headwaters of Papua New Guinea (see maps), Like other New Guineans, Telefolmin are a f r i z z y - h a i r e d people whose skin colour ranges from dark copper to black; Telefolmin are shorter than most, and a man standing above 5'2" may be considered t a l l . The men, women, and c h i l d r e n are hardy, possessed of great stamina and s u r p r i s i n g strength. U n t i l the days • j u s t before the Second World War, Telefolmin worked with a technology of stone, wood, and r e a d i l y a v a i l a b l e bush materials. Steel tools became prominent i n the 1940's, and i t was at t h i s time that Telefolmin also ceased to master t h e i r own a f f a i r s with the advent of what they c a l l gabman (government). Their l i v e l i h o o d nonetheless remains pretty much what i t always was: they c u l t i v a t e root crops, r a i s e pigs, and hunt for a l i v i n g . When I f i r s t went to study T e l e f o l society i n 1974 i t was with the i n t e n t i o n of examining the way i n which p o l i t i c s at the l o c a l l e v e l operated i n what I had anticipated would be a s i t u a t i o n of competing modes of leadership. Conversations with Ruth and Barry Craig, who had previously done fieldwork i n Telefolmin, indicated that a l o c a l government c o u n c i l had gone into e f f e c t , with elected c o u n c i l l o r s from each ward (roughly corresponding to v i l l a g e s ) . I had expected that these new-style "leaders" operated within the context of a more t r a d i t i o n a l regime of leadership, and I wanted to study the r e l a t i o n between a l t e r n a t i v e forms. About t r a d i t i o n a l leaders accounts were vague, but there was the suggestion that big men of the sort commonly found i n Melanesia operated i n Telefolmin, The Craigs also suggested that l e s s v i s i b l e leadership i n community l i f e was exerted by senior i n i t i a t e s of the men's c u l t , which was very elaborate but circumscribed with secrecy—because of t h i s , i t was uncertain j u s t how c l e a r l y marked such leadership was, and the presence of such men d i r e c t i n g c o l l e c t i v e a f f a i r s was more of a guess than a firm conclusion. Armed with t h i s information, I set o f f for Telefolmin i n the hopes of being 31 able to d i s s e c t what promised to be a complex p o l i t i c a l system i n which leaders of various kinds competed to gain followings within t h e i r communities. Things did not go as planned. Shortly a f t e r a r r i v i n g i n Telefolmin I began looking for recognizably p o l i t i c a l behaviour, confident that i n the normal flow of v i l l a g e l i f e disputes would soon come to the surface and f l u s h the l o c a l network of opponents, a l l i e s , and r i v a l s from cover. My f i r s t impression was that Telefolmin were unusually peaceable and not at a l l l i t i g o u s — a b i t of a surprise from what I had read of New Guinea p o l i t i c k i n g . A f t e r some months passed without so much as raised voices i n v i l l a g e gatherings I became worried about the progress of my work. The v i l l a g e r s of Derolengam, where I was l i v i n g , seemed perversely to avoid public disputing. This was to be the cornerstone of my research strategy, for i t was i n disputes that I hoped to assemble case material for a n a l y s i s . At f i r s t I thought my presence had driven the normal dramas of v i l l a g e l i f e underground, but i t l a t e r became c l e a r that t h i s was not the case. Telefolmin simply did not resolve problems through challenge and negotiation. In the meantime, enquiries about who the l o c a l big men were or how they came to be prominent were met with an unfeigned i n d i f f e r e n c e and even a b i t of puzzlement. I t soon appeared that there was very l i t t l e i n T e l e f o l l i f e that could f r u i t f u l l y be understood i n terms of struggles for p o l i t i c a l power, at le a s t within the sphere of the v i l l a g e . My o r i g i n a l strategy disarmed, I d r i f t e d into a persistent malaise and faced the uncertainty most ethnographers face about how best to proceed. In the meantime, I busied myself with generalized and unfocused note-taking, enumerated households, and f a m i l i a r i z e d myself with the nuts and b o l t s of d a i l y l i f e . Slowly, and almost without my n o t i c i n g , my material began to centre around the secret men's c u l t and what we might c a l l the r e l i g i o u s side of T e l e f o l l i f e . In retrospect, i t i s easy to see that t h i s i s what the men had been t a l k i n g to me about a l l along, and i t i s also clear that t h i s i s what 12 they thought was most c e n t r a l to t h e i r c u l t u r e . 32 T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n — t h e p r a c t i c e s of the men's c u l t , the multiple i n i t i a t i o n r i t e s , the esoteric m y t h s — i s founded upon secrecy. This obviously presents problems to the ethnographer wishing to know something about T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n . As I l a t e r came to see, T e l e f o l men face p r e c i s e l y the same d i f f i c u l t i e s of knowing, and i t might even be said that the problem of knowledge i s a c e n t r a l preoccupation of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n . In T e l e f o l eyes, the key to much of what goes on i n the world—both within and beyond the confines of the c u l t — i s to-be found i n awareness, or "seeing" {utamamin), and a c e n t r a l tenet i s that the apparent world conceals a mysterium to be unravelled with the aid of the revelations contained i n myth. But such myths themselves are and must be secret: t h e i r v a l i d i t y depends upon t h i s . One r e s u l t i s that while there i s a staggering number of variant versions of the myths—or more c o r r e c t l y , components of the myth-cycle, for men i n s i s t that they are a l l one s t o r y — t h e r e i s l i t t l e i n the way of a widely-shared or a u t h o r i t a t i v e consensus. Knowledge i s thus by d e f i n i t i o n r e f r a c t o r y and p a r t i a l . To the extent that an o v e r a l l coherence emerges, i t i s through the progressive r e v e l a t i o n of the more secret (and hence, les s widely-shared) narratives of the myth cy c l e during the course of a man's l i f e . When t h i s state of a f f a i r s i s viewed from the perspective of the progression of i n d i v i d u a l s through the c u l t , the experience i s one i n which the taken-for-granted i s c a l l e d into question and appearances are shown to be something other than they seem. The T e l e f o l preoccupation with knowledge i s not a dispassionate- or d i s i n t e r e s t e d one. Given c e r t a i n fundamental premises Telefolmin hold about the nature of the human predicament, men must face the world on unequal terms. According to the T e l e f o l view, the way of the world i s " n a t u r a l l y " counter to men's aims, and t h i s i s conceived i n terms of what I c a l l "entropy". Not a thing but rather a d i s c e r n i b l e tendency i n processes and events, Telefolmin capture t h i s sense i n the verb biniman, 'to f i n i s h , to run out, to d i s s i p a t e , to become nothing'. Most immediately f e l t i n the sense of l o s s , entropy f i g u r e s (as i t does both i n physics and i n information theory) as d i s s o l u t i o n , disarray, the decay of structure. H e u r i s t i c a l l y and a n a l y t i c a l l y , the concept of entropy a r t i c u l a t e s with the conscious concerns of Telefolmin and with anthropological preoccupations (as outlined above), and so I w i l l c i t e a b r i e f statement here about what the concept e n t a i l s : Entropy [is] a measure of the amount of disorder i n a p h y s i c a l system, but i t i s now c l e a r that a more precise statement i s that entropy measures lack of information about the structure of a system (Whitrow 1967:528), In the context of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n the relevance i s c l e a r , for the overt aim of the men's c u l t i s to counter the postulated d r i f t of the world towards entropy, and a major strategy for doing so i s to underwrite the c u l t u r a l bases of order and to reveal information about them. This d i s s e r t a t i o n i s an exploration of the d i a l e c t i c between order and entropy i n the T e l e f o l world, with the aim of- i n t e r p r e t i n g the place of 13 t r a d i t i o n a l r e l i g i o n i n T e l e f o l l i f e . . The exposition i s broken down into four chapters (excluding t h i s one), and I w i l l now b r i e f l y o u t l i n e t h e i r contents and the structure of the argument. Chapter 2 introduces the general background of T e l e f o l l i f e , organized i n terms of paired poles. These p o l a r i t i e s (e.g., v i l l a g e and bush) are the general terms i n which d a i l y l i f e i s oriented, and provide the basic elements i n the structure of T e l e f o l c u l t u r e . The mode of presentation shows these p o l a r i t i e s i n the frame of contrasting or opposing p a i r s , approximating the s t r u c t u r a l i s t notion of oppositions. My aim i n Chapter 2 i s to introduce these oppositions and to inform them with ethnographic content while t r y i n g to convey a sense of t h e i r e x p e r i e n t i a l r e a l i t y to Telefolmin. An important aspect of the argument i s that these p o l a r i t i e s are perceived as i n opposition 34 by Telefolmin themselves and are at the same time f o c i of ambivalence and ambiguity. In Chapter 3 I o u t l i n e more e x p l i c i t l y the r e l a t i o n between order and entropy i n Telefolmin. Taking a succession of topics i n turn, t h i s chapter gives an account of the T e l e f o l s o c i a l and cosmological order. Here I examine the tenwn mi it "(cognatic descent categories), the v i l l a g e as an organizational e n t i t y , and the structure and operation of the T e l e f o l marriage system. Entropy figures, i n r e l a t i o n to each of these topics i n d i f f e r i n g ways. Tenum miit afford'an i d e o l o g i c a l image of order based upon a r i t u a l d i v i s i o n of labour, but t h e i r membership i s inherently ambiguous and they are i n f a c t o r g a n i z a t i o n a l l y i r r e l e v a n t . The v i l l a g e i s the firm centre around which the society i s organized, but i n d i v i d u a l and domestic i n t e r e s t s are such that t h i s centre must contend with very powerful c e n t r i f u g a l tendencies, and men d i s p l a y marked ambivalence concerning t h e i r p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n v i l l a g e l i f e . T e l e f o l marriage i s i d e a l l y founded upon a s t r i c t and balanced system of d i r e c t ("sister") exchange, but i n p r a c t i c e such balance i s d i f f i c u l t to achieve; further, one of men's concerns i s to enforce v i l l a g e endogamy and prevent the loss of women to other v i l l a g e s , but t h i s too i s more d i f f i c u l t to accomplish than might be imagined. One of the basic organizing p r i n c i p l e s of s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s i n Telefolmin i s r e c i p r o c i t y , and t h i s has the consequence that most r e l a t i o n s so based are contingent and c o n d i t i o n a l , and as i n d i v i d u a l s men are ambivalent about giving to others. In p r a c t i c e , men view r e l a t i o n s of r e c i p r o c i t y l a r g e l y from the perspective of loss or u n f u l f i l l e d claims. The second ha l f of Chapter 3 turns more d i r e c t l y to how Telefolmin conceive of entropy and order i n cosmological terms. A consideration of the question of m o r t a l i t y and of the a l t e r n a t i v e fates of the dead shows that the l o s s of death i s conceived as f i n a l and irrevocable, save i n the case of the s p i r i t s of the men's c u l t house (the usong i n h a b i t i n g the yolam). Even here, however, t h i s i s only an uncertain triumph over the f i n a l i t y of death insofar 35 as the l i v i n g are concerned, for t h e i r r e l a t i o n s with such s p i r i t s ( l i k e other r e l a t i o n s i n the society) are also rooted i n r e c i p r o c i t y , and hence, are co n d i t i o n a l . This a r t i c u l a t e s with broader aspects of T e l e f o l cosmology i n which men's world i s seen as diminishing through time, with the continual lo s s of the l i v i n g to the land of the dead, Bagelam. The world i s on the wane, and men cannot prevent t h i s but at best may only, with e f f o r t , delay the end. To the extent that they are able to do so, t h i s i s to be accomplished through hard work and p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the men's c u l t centred around i t s house, the yolam. At the end of the chapter there i s a discussion of T e l e f o l food tabus, which o f f e r a comprehensive ordering of relations, between people and the natural world while at the same time de f i n i n g rules of commensality and food-sharing. Observance of the tabus ensures some coherence i n men's r e l a t i o n s with the external world; breach opens the floodgates of entropy, and i n t h i s sense men co n t r o l the lat e n t propensity to disorder by maintaining c a t e g o r i c a l discreteness through i n t e r d i c t i o n or d i s j u n c t i o n . This i s one of the general p r i n c i p l e s of T e l e f o l order, manifested i n an overriding r i t u a l and cosmological d i v i s i o n between the a c t i v i t i e s of nurturing and k i l l i n g , encoded i n the a n t i t h e t i c a l r e l a t i o n between Taro (iman mi-it) and Arrow (un miit) . To t h i s extent order depends upon separation between opposed aspects of the world, while entropy effaces such d i v i s i o n . Chapter 3 concludes with a discussion of the strategies f or managing entropy and the pre-eminent place of the yolam as the anchor both of T e l e f o l society and of the T e l e f o l cosmos. Chapter 4 i s devoted to a more"detailed look at the yolam and i t s a c t i v i t i e s , a glimpse into the i n t e r i o r of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n . Much of the content of t h i s chapter i s descriptive," and I ou t l i n e the sequence of male i n i t i a t i o n s and of the esoteric myths associated with them. A sustained look at the structure, content, and implications of the myths shows them to be multifaceted and f u l l of "radiant obscurity" ( c f. Kermode 1979). While i t i s true that at one l e v e l they act i n an a f f i r m a t i v e 36 manner to v a l i d a t e p a r t i c u l a r features of the T e l e f o l world, they do far more than t h i s . The myths o f f e r both an exposition of and commentary upon the i n t e r r e l a t i o n of order and entropy, t o p i c a l l y o r i e n t i n g themselves to c r i t i c a l dimensions of T e l e f o l experience (the r e l a t i o n between male and female, the r e l a t i o n between nurturing and k i l l i n g , and so on). At the more esoteric l e v e l s of myth, however, they go beyond t h i s and c a l l into question the very bases of T e l e f o l c u l t u r e . It i s here that myth serves as a r e f l e x i v e commentary upon the givens of experience, and i t i s a commentary that i s suggestive rather than d e f i n i t i v e , posing questions rather than solving them. One of the biggest problems raised i n myth i s the p o s s i b i l i t y of "seeing" or knowing, and t h i s question i s the pivot for many of the narratives of the cyc l e . The pervasive praxis of secrecy i n r e l a t i o n to the myths i s one of the c r i t i c a l components of the problem, and an examination of the grounds and consequences of T e l e f o l r i t u a l secrecy reveals that the c u l t confronts men with the i m p o s s i b i l i t y of f i n a l or complete knowledge. The actu a l workings of the c u l t thus serve to obviate i t s announced aims, and t h i s too i s part of the burden of the myths, which systematically overturn many of T e l e f o l culture's c e n t r a l tenets. This s i t u a t i o n i s i n t e n s i f i e d by a consideration of the r o l e of Magalim, a transcendant bush s p i r i t , i n T e l e f o l cosmology. While the major focus of the men's c u l t i s on the doings of the Ancestress of the Telefolmin, Afek, she (betokening order) i s understood i n counterpoint to Magalim, who i s the embodiment of entropy and the numinous. Whereas Afek i s the a u t h o r i t a t i v e source of the structure of men's world, Magalim i s the enveloping presence i n which t h i s order seeks a place. Further, Magalim—"the meaningless one, the unknowable o n e " — i s manifest i n the f l u x and flow of the world, and impinges unbidden on men's experience. And he i s ul t i m a t e l y revealed to be ascendant r e a l i t y i t s e l f , a r e a l i t y which men may not evade. The f i n a l chapter o f f e r s an assessment and o y e r a l l i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i n the context of T e l e f o l l i f e . Here I suggest that the r o l e of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i s not to lead men into the comforts of an i l l u s o r y order, but to bring them to an awareness—disquieting, to be sure-—of t h e i r s i t u a t i o n i n a world where order i s tentative, knowledge incomplete, and entropy r e a l . I conclude by considering e x i s t e n t i a l imperatives that follow from t h i s . While t h i s gives a reasonably good account of what the reader may expect to f i n d i n t h i s d i s s e r t a t i o n , I would l i k e now to discuss a second, l a r g e l y i m p l i c i t , l e v e l of the argument. Ri l k e wrote, i n h i s Eighth Duino Elegy: Always facing creation, we perceive there only a mirroring of the free and open dimmed by our breath... and i n h i s F i r s t Duino Elegy, . . . a l l of the l i v i n g make the mistake of drawing too sharp d i s t i n c t i o n s . Angels ( i t i s said) would often be unable to t e l l whether they moved among l i v i n g or dead. These two passages contain much that i s implied i n t h i s work. I have, so f a r as possible, t r i e d to avoid a t t r i b u t i n g a convenient i f spurious c l a r i t y to the material presented here. To the extent that I am consciously aware of d i s t o r t i o n , i t has always been on the side of over-ordering, never towards de l i b e r a t e clouding. Perhaps the most " o v e r - c l a r i f i e d " section of the d i s s e r t a t i o n i s i n the d i s c u s s i o n of tenum mii-t at the beginning of Chapter 3: I doubt that Telefolmin ever consciously formulate the o v e r a l l p i c t u r e as neatly as I have done. My strategy has by and large been to follow the injunctions of Wagner and Burridge and to recognize fuzziness, ambiguity, paradox and the r e s t for what they are. To my mind, the most successful (and l e a s t forced) sections of the d i s s e r t a t i o n are those dealing with the mythic content of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n and the consideration of the s i g n i f i c a n c e of Magalim, i . e . , the l a s t three sections of Chapter 4. These were for me the most c r i t i c a l parts of the work: everything turned upon t h e i r proper under-standing. To t h i s extent, the c r i t i c a l reader may f i n d them also the most vulnerable of the piece. Here i s the core of the d i s s e r t a t i o n : T e l e f o l r e l i g i o u s notions, the men's c u l t , and t h e i r experience are f u l l of contr a d i c t i o n . I t seems to me that t h i s i s the d i s t i n c t i v e feature of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n , and that i t i s so pervasive that i f one could, l i k e Telefolmin, a t t r i b u t e the ensemble to an author, one would have to say that such contradictions were "designed.into" the system. This perception of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n was r e s i s t e d by me f o r some time. I kept looking for an o v e r a l l consistency without r e a l i z i n g that the consistency was to be found i n systematic inconsistency. This r e a l i z a t i o n was l a r g e l y aided by the d i f f i c u l t and complicated way i n which I learned the myths, and by the a t t i t u d e of the seniors who revealed them to me: had I learned the myths quickly, e a s i l y , simultaneously, and without the constraints of secrecy, I am sure I would either have homogenized them into one grand authorized v e r s i o n or l e f t them as a haphazard and d i s a r t i c u l a t e d testimony to i d i o s y n c r a t i c v a r i a b i l i t y among my informants. In eit h e r case, the point would have been l o s t . My f e e l for the material was clinched by three things: learning, quite l a t e i n my stay, about Magalim—this forced the abandonment of any hard-edged s t r u c t u r a l strategy; the c i r c u l a t i o n of a manuscript of Barth's Ritual and Knowledge among tine Baktaman (1975), where i t seemed indeed that the apparently incoherent nature of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n was mirrored (but without a sense of a point to i t a l l ) ; and meeting Barbara Jones (of the Univ e r s i t y of V i r g i n i a ) , who was simultaneously doing her own fieldwork among the Fegolmin (Faiwolmin), who arrange t h e i r way i n the world i n as thoroughly paradoxical a fashion as Telefolmin. The argument of the d i s s e r t a t i o n , with concessions to convention and r e a d a b i l i t y , i s to e s t a b l i s h that while there i s a rough and general sort of order to l i f e i n T e l e f o l m i n , the f i t i s i n important respects a poor one; that T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i n t e n s i f i e s t h i s mismatch r a t h e r than g l o s s i n g i t over, and seeks by a wealth of means to get T e l e f o l men to see t h i s ; and t h a t , to understand T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n , and perhaps r e l i g i o n i n general, we must be prepared to acknowledge what we see, even i f we're not q u i t e sure j u s t what i t i s . In "Paradigms and the s o c i o l o g i c a l imagination", Burridge w r i t e s : P e r v e r s e l y , the romantic, because he c l i n g s to the messy t r u t h of things as he sees them, i s the r e a l i s t . The s o - c a l l e d r e a l i s t , wedded to h i s supposedly s c i e n t i f i c paradigms, t h i n k s he can understand more of what he does not know by d i s t o r t i n g what he does know (n.d.:22). This i s , i n i n t e n t at l e a s t , a romantic piece of work. i i i . P l a c i n g T e l e f o l m i n i n New Guinea Ethnography T e l e f o l m i n are one of a number of peoples speaking languages of the Mountain Ok f a m i l y and i n h a b i t i n g the western part of the c e n t r a l mountain ranges of Papua New Guinea. Not much has. yet appeared i n p r i n t concerning 14 these peoples. Broadly speaking, the Mountain Ok form a d i s t i n c t i v e c u l t u r a l grouping w i t h i n the k a l e i d o s c o p i c a r r a y of New Guinea peoples. Here I w i l l sketch some of the common fea t u r e s of Mountain Ok c u l t u r e s . The Mountain Ok are v i r t u a l l y a l l denizens of a montane f o r e s t environment who make t h e i r l i v i n g by a combination of s h i f t i n g c u l t i v a t i o n , p i g tending, and hunting. In comparison w i t h the b e t t e r known Highlands peoples to the east, they have much smaller domestic p i g herds and spend more time hunting i n t h e i r f o r e s t environments (see Brown 1978). This i s accompanied by a h o r t i c u l t u r a l regime that seems u n i v e r s a l l y to accord to taro a pre-eminent p l a c e ; t h i s i s so d e s p i t e what seem from the outside to be unpromising c o n d i t i o n s f o r the c u l t i v a t i o n of t h i s e s s e n t i a l l y lowland crop, and i s true even where sweet potato comprises a l a r g e r p r o p o r t i o n of the d i e t . Again, the Mountain Ok peoples may be contrasted w i t h Highlanders on the b a s i s of the r e l a t i v e l y p o o r l y developed systems of exchange to be found i n the r e g i o n — t h e r e i s nothing comparable to the Highlands ceremonial exchange cycles, nor are p i g feasts common, and there i s l i t t l e i n the way of a system of p o l i t i c a l arrangements based on the manipulation of wealth. Big men are rare to non-existent. Organizationally, settlements tend to be r e l a t i v e l y small ( r a r e l y exceeding two hundred people, i n the case of Telefolmin, by far the most thoroughly sedentary of the Mountain Ok) and the populations tend to be r e l a t i v e l y mobile. Settlement patterns range from i s o l a t e d households or small hamlets (as among the Atbalmin) to longhouses (Miyanmin, Dulanmin) or small v i l l a g e s (some Miyanmin, most Fegolmin, T i f a l m i n , and Telefolmin). Systems of clans or lineages seem to be either absent or rudimentary from an organizational point of view, l o c a l forms of grouping appearing to be more s i g n i f i c a n t . Perhaps most d i s t i n c t i v e l y , the Mountain Ok peoples d i s p l a y — i n comparative t e r m s — a marked elaboration of r i t u a l , often combining a system of male i n i t i a t i o n with a secret men's c u l t concerned with taro f e r t i l i t y . Men's cu l t houses are v i r t u a l l y ubiquitous, and may even be found on permanent s i t e s when the population at large pursues a more free-ranging pattern of settlement (e.g., the Wopkaimin and t h e i r f o c a l s i t e of Bultem). R i t u a l a c t i v i t i e s seem to provide the occasion for large-scale enterprises, and r i t u a l seems to be the firmest organizational matrix among the Mountain Ok peoples, analogous to systems of descent or of exchange i n other parts of New Guinea. F i n a l l y , i t seems that most of the Mountain Ok peoples (at l e a s t on the Papua New Guinea side of the border with I r i a n Jaya) claim descent from a common ancestress known v a r i o u s l y as Afek, Afekan, Kaligan, or Kaliganip. Within the grouping of Mountain Ok peoples as a whole Telefolmin occupy a d i s t i n c t i v e place. Telefolmin claim the stewardship over the ancestral v i l l a g e and s p i r i t house of T e l e f o l i p — s a i d to be b u i l t by Afek h e r s e l f — a n d are also the guardians of the sacred l o r e pertaining to Afek, To a c e r t a i n extent such claims are acknowledged by neighbouring peoples: T e l e f o l i p i s a sacred s i t e not only to Telefolmin, but to the neighbouring peoples who also claim o r i g i n s from Afek. In a l i k e manner, neighbouring peoples accord to Telefolmin a pre-eminence i n matters of esoteric knowledge and r i t u a l , and i t seems many view t h e i r own l o c a l t r a d i t i o n s as d e r i v a t i v e from those o r i g i n a t i n g at T e l e f o l i p , Here i t i s also worth mentioning that the two v a l l e y s of T e l e f o l settlement—Ifitaman and Eliptaman—hold twenty or so permanent v i l l a g e s , unparalleled i n both number and s t a b i l i t y i n the region. This d i s s e r t a t i o n , then, i s a c o n t r i b u t i o n to our knowledge of a r e l a t i v e l y poorly known ethnographic region and focuses upon a people whose elaboration of r i t u a l seems to i n t e n s i f y the d i s t i n c t i v e features of the region as a whole. i v . A Sketch of T e l e f o l History Like other peoples of Papua New Guinea, most Telefolmin have within t h e i r l i f e t i m e s confronted a s e r i e s of events adding up to a h i s t o r i c a l experience r a d i c a l l y d i f f e r e n t from that of t h e i r fathers and grandfathers. Though there were sporadic and intermittent contacts with Europeans since at l e a s t the 1920's (Champion 1966), the h i s t o r y of the Telefolmin i n r e l a t i o n to the wider world of mission, money, and government began i n the days of the Second World War. The US Army A i r Force established an emergency landing s t r i p i n Telefolmin as part of the preparation for the campaign against the Japanese at Hollandia, and t h i s l a t e r became the s i t e f o r the government landing s t r i p and p a t r o l post set up by the Australians a f t e r the war. I n i t i a l r e l a t i o n s between the administration and the Telefolmin seem to have been good. A number of today's greybeards recount t h e i r eagerness as youths to f i n d out about the newcomers, and many volunteered to act as c a r r i e r s for r e l a t i v e l y hazardous contact p a t r o l s into neighbouring areas. By 1950 things were running r e l a t i v e l y smoothly, and the s t a r t of the decade saw the establishment of the f i r s t mission by the A u s t r a l i a n Baptist Missionary Society. Before long, however, the r e l a t i o n s h i p turned sour. In l a t e 1953 Telefolmin mounted what can only be described as a r e b e l l i o n against the administration and managed i n two simultaneous attacks to k i l l the two European p a t r o l o f f i c e r s and two native constables. The plan m i s f i r e d , however, when a t h i r d planned attack on the mission s t a t i o n and government radio shack was f o i l e d by an A u s t r a l i a n missionary who held the son of one prominent man hostage while he radioed to headquarters i n Wewak fo r help. Help r a p i d l y a r r i v e d i n the form of several planeloads of armed constabulary and i t became i n s t a n t l y c l e a r that the attempt to expel the administration had f a i l e d . A f t e r several months the p a r t i c i p a n t s i n the attacks were rounded up, questioned, and flown to the coast for t r i a l . Most of those apprehended were convicted of murder and were sentenced to death by hanging, a sentence which was l a t e r commuted to ten years' imprisonment. The e f f e c t s of the s o - c a l l e d "Telefolmin massacre" and i t s denouement were far-reaching. The a f f a i r became a topic for p o l i t i c a l debate i n A u s t r a l i a , and t h i s seems to have had the consequence of s e n s i t i z i n g the administration to the advantages of avoiding such incidents i n the future. In pragmatic terms, t h i s resulted i n the adoption of a go-slow p o l i c y towards development i n Telefolmin. Administration correspondence of the period immediately following the t r i a l s shows a consistent pattern: l o c a l p a t r o l o f f i c e r s repeatedly requested permission to embark on cash-cropping projects and were i n s i s t e n t l y t o l d by d i s t r i c t headquarters that the experience of 1953 showed that Telefolmin were b a s i c a l l y very " p r i m i t i v e " and backward people who were not yet ready f o r progress,. Better instead to concentrate on straightforward law-and-order administration, censusing, and .extension of basic health care: to attempt more would be to spread administrative resources too t h i n , to the p o t e n t i a l detriment of s e c u r i t y considerations. The s i t u a t i o n had a d i f f e r e n t look from a T e l e f o l point of view. Though published accounts of the a f f a i r suggest that the r e b e l l i o n somehow resulted from savage cussedness, cargo c u l t s , or the simple desire for autonomy (cf. Quinlivan 1954), l o c a l people have another t a l e to t e l l . A number of d i f f e r e n t witnesses (including some of the p a r t i c i p a n t s i n the attacks) report an accumulation of grievances against xjhat can only be described as abuses of administrative authority. For example, i t became common p r a c t i c e for government pa t r o l s to seize pigs without compensation, and i n at l e a s t two cases the government refused to compensate the r e l a t i v e s of men who had died i n accidents while acting as c a r r i e r s for p a t r o l s . Others complain that they were forced to act as bearers on p a t r o l s against t h e i r w i l l , and at l e a s t one man died as the r e s u l t of beatings by p o l i c e when he refused to carry the load assigned to him. During the course of government censuses the houses of v i l l a g e r s who did not appear were put to the torch by p o l i c e or p a t r o l o f f i c e r s . In at least one case a house was burnt i n the v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p where a number of s i g n i f i c a n t c u l t r e l i c s were being stored. None of these things, however, seems to have caused as much anger and resentment as the p r a c t i c e adopted by Laurie Nolan (sole European p a t r o l o f f i c e r i n early 1953) towards the i r a t e fathers, brothers, and husbands of l o c a l women he kept as mistresses: when they came to the s t a t i o n to c o l l e c t kinswomen or wives, he had them beaten and bloodied by native constabulary. Deciding that they were men and not dogs, Telefolmin decided also that i f t h i s was government, they had had enough. The immediate impact of the a r r e s t s and imprisonment following the f a i l e d attempt at expulsion was demoralizing. Numbers of men from several v i l l a g e s were separated from t h e i r f a m i l i e s and neighbours for a decade, and i t i s p r e c i s e l y such men who would have formed the a c t i v e core of t h e i r v i l l a g e s . I t was soon c l e a r that Telefolmin had ceased to master t h e i r own a f f a i r s , nor were they ever l i k e l y again to do so. Telefolmin i n l a t t e r days maintained a c e r t a i n pride i n t h e i r attempt to stand up to the outsiders, but t h i s was mixed with a.view that came to portray t h e i r 1953 attacks as f o o l i s h and f u t i l e . Worse yet, they had done wrong (Pidgin: rong = error, breach of law, or sin) i n t h e i r foolishness and ignorance. If for some the k i l l i n g s are proof that Telefolmin are men and cannot be pushed around, the memory i s a l s o tainted with g u i l t and some regret. The g u i l t i s s i g n i f i c a n t because i t lends credence to the common sense that the government was reluctanct to help Telefolmin i n development because they had k i l l e d the p a t r o l o f f i c e r s — a n estimation c l o s e r to the truth than i s comfortable. After 1953 things i n Telefolmin remained quiet. The administration was preoccupied with the expansion and consolidation of c o n t r o l i n outlying areas, p a r t i c u l a r l y i n Miyanmin to the north. Nonetheless, the decade from the mid-50s to the mid-60s was a period i n which a number of s i g n i f i c a n t influences on T e l e f o l l i f e took shape and made themselves f e l t . The Baptist mission took up i t s programme of evangelism i n earnest during the 50s and gradually began b u i l d i n g up i t s operations. By 1960 a b i b l e school for youths (male) featuring t r a i n i n g i n Pidgin l i t e r a c y was i n operation, and a number of boys went—sometimes without parental c o n s e n t — t o l i v e on the mission s t a t i o n and receive education. A number of these youths were l a t e r to become prominent as v i l l a g e pastors, and some of these became c o u n c i l l o r s when the Telefomin ( s i c ) Local Government Council was established i n 1969. At the same time, the mission also established a nursing school for young women and a maternity c l i n i c under the d i r e c t i o n of S i s t e r Betty Crouch. C l i n i c s t a f f went on regular medical p a t r o l s i n outlying areas, and an a i r -s t r i p (now closed) was established by the mission at Falamin to f a c i l i t a t e such v i s i t s . This s t r i p was the f i r s t of a series of such s t r i p s established by the mission throughout the region with the aim of opening up outlying areas for evangelism and i n c i d e n t a l development. Though there were few conversions to C h r i s t i a n i t y u n t i l the l a t e 60s, the mission had become a prominent part of T e l e f o l l i f e . Moreover, those who were att r a c t e d by the mission comprised two s i g n i f i c a n t sectors of the population: women, who were t r a d i t i o n a l l y excluded from the c u l t l i f e of the v i l l a g e , and young men (few of whom were f u l l y i n i t i a t e d ) with ambitions f o r the future. According to the mission view, such men were to become the leaders of a new generation of Telefolmin. From the T e l e f o l view men with a command of l i t e r a c y were best suited for dealings with the government and the outside world, and i t i s a measure of t h i s that the f i r s t and only elected member of Parliament from Telefolmin, Wesani Iwoksim, was also one of the f i r s t men to complete t r a i n i n g at the b i b l e school and was the f i r s t v i l l a g e pastor i n the area. C h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y , such men also attempted to become small-scale entrepreneurs by running v i l l a g e tradestoresv. Though v i r t u a l l y a l l of these ventures f a i l e d f o r a number of reasons, such a c t i v i t i e s had the aura of prosperity and success about them. To many v i l l a g e r s i t thus appeared that the route to a new way of l i f e led through the mission, and i t i s worth noting that those who had taken t h i s route thereby removed themselves from the stream of youths who embark upon T e l e f o l manhood through i n i t i a t i o n . The decade of 1955 to 1965 also saw the f i r s t serious engagement of Telefolmin i n the cash economy. Though the administration f a i l e d to provide much i n the way of l o c a l development, there was nonetheless a steady growth i n access to cash for v i l l a g e r s . In the early days following the Second World War Telefolmin who acted as labourers (on s t a t i o n and s t r i p construction) were paid i n axes, matches, s a l t , b o l t s of c l o t h and so on. This had the double e f f e c t of creating demand for manufactured items and at the same time created the need for a more f l e x i b l e and generalized form of payment; though most men were eager to acquire s t e e l axes, there were only so many axes one man could use. Payment i n cash then became more frequent, and the mission operated a small tradestore where people could exchange t h e i r cash for goods. As both mission and administration operations expanded, a small but regular labour force was required f o r a i r s t r i p maintenance, construction, and domestic service. In addition, small quantities of vegetables and other l o c a l produce were sold both to mission and administration personnel. Most s i g n i f i c a n t l y , the advent of contract labour on coastal or highland plantations made a r e l a t i v e l y large amount of cash a v a i l a b l e to increasing numbers of younger men over a wide area. Such labourers signed on for two-year contracts and would, at the end of t h e i r contracts, return to Telefolmin with new experiences, store-bought clothes, and as much as two hundred A u s t r a l i a n d o l l a r s i n t h e i r pockets. Though the administration prudently r e s t r i c t e d the number of young men e l i g i b l e to leave on labour contracts (to prevent too d r a s t i c d i s r u p t i o n of v i l l a g e l i f e and subsistence), most T e l e f o l men near the s t a t i o n under the age of t h i r t y or so have had some experience as p l a n t a t i o n labourers. By the close of the 1960s Telefolmin had become a very d i f f e r e n t sort of place. The mission had become a regular part of the landscape, the Telefolmin Local Government Council—empowered to i n i t i a t e development projects with government support—-went into operation, a rudimentary road network between v i l l a g e s near the s t a t i o n was b u i l t , while a government h o s p i t a l and school extended t h e i r services to l o c a l people. A l l of these new presences began to i n t e n s i f y i n the 1970s, with Independence i n 1975 providing a s i g n i f i c a n t turning point. Though subsequent developments i n Telefolmin are beyond the scope of t h i s d i s s e r t a t i o n , 1975 marked not only the era of n a t i o n a l independence, but also brought with i t the hope—and the t h r e a t — o f large-scale copper mining i n the region, a new l e v e l of l o c a l p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n n a t i o n a l p o l i t i c s , and the inauguration and f r u i t i o n of cash-cropping schemes involving the production of coffee and c h i l i s . This i s the h i s t o r i c a l context that framed my fieldwork i n Telefolmin between 1974 and 1975, and the "ethnographic present" of the d i s s e r t a t i o n may be taken as f a l l i n g within t h i s time period. The reader may f e e l a few twinges of discomfort by the lack of reference to h i s t o r y i n Telefolmin, and perhaps with some j u s t i f i c a t i o n . I t i s nonetheless the case that the r e a l i t i e s of T e l e f o l society, cosmology, and r e l i g i o n that are set f o r t h here belong to the contemporary scene—though admittedly affected by recent changes—and are not part of some dead or frozen past. Here my most straightforward means of persuading the reader i s to r e f e r to events i n Telefolmin between my departure i n 1975 and my second v i s i t i n 1979. When I l e f t the f i e l d i n 1975 i t was evident that the i n i t i a t i o n s i n Telefolmin were taking place l e s s frequently and with fewer p a r t i c i p a n t s , something I mention i n passing i n my discussion of the Ok Bembem movement of 1975 (see Chapter 4). In 1979 I was requested by Wesani Iwoksim on behalf of the'Telefolmin as a whole to return to take up residence i n T e l e f o l i p and c o l l e c t and assemble an archive of sacred narratives (weng amem). By 1979 i t appeared that the i n i t i a t i o n system i t s e l f was on the verge of collapse, and my commission was to save the secret l o r e of the c u l t i n a form (here, recording tape and a subsequent t r a n s c r i p t i o n , as yet incomplete) accessible to future generations of Telefolmin. In the current year (1980) the Telefolmin are at what may very well be a c u l t u r a l crossroads, and while I do not intend to pursue the d e t a i l s of the matter here, the crux of the issue concerns the future status of the men's c u l t and a l l that i t e n t a i l s . In a very r e a l sense, the outcome of t h i s c o l l e c t i v e debate w i l l determine not only the shape of T e l e f o l society but also the nature of being Telefolmin and what kind of people tomorrow's Telefolmin w i l l be (see Jorgensen 1980). v. Entering Telefolmin To reach Telefolmin i t i s necessary to f l y i n from the north coast of Papua New Guinea by l i g h t a i r c r a f t . The f l i g h t from Wewak, roughly two hundred miles d i s t a n t , begins at dawn since the cloud cover thickens and v i s i b i l i t y decreases as the day progresses. Crossing f i r s t over coconut-studded coastal h i l l s , the route passes over Maprik and across the broad Sepik p l a i n s . Here the Sepik i s a very d i f f e r e n t r i v e r from the one encountered i n Te l e f o l m i n — h e r e i t i s broad, sluggish, laden with s i l t and mud that i t c a r r i e s i n wide looping meanders to the sea. Across the r i v e r to the west i s Ambunti, and beyond i t the horizon f i l l s with a growing tangle of blue-green forested ridges. These r i s e abruptly to form a cloud-shrouded.mountain chain, the Central Ranges. Below there are few signs of habitation, the forest cover r e l i e v e d only by the watercourses s w i f t l y f a l l i n g north to the Sepik. Gradually a few, and then more, i s o l a t e d gardens and houses appear i n the f o r e s t below. Clearing the Donner Range, the f i r s t T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s appear on spurs overlooking the Ok E l i p and i t s v a l l e y , Eliptaman. Continuing on, the a i r c r a f t skims over the l a s t ridge of the Mittag Range whose cr e s t s sport forest festooned with russet mosses. Then the ground drops suddenly away to reveal Ifitaman, the v a l l e y of the upper Sepik and the homeland of the Telefolmin. Here signs of h a b i t a t i o n abound. The grass and gravel a i r s t r i p i s flanked by a t i d y c l u s t e r i n g of gleaming tin-roofed b u i l d i n g s — t h e government s t a t i o n . This i s connected by a d i r t road to another such.cluster on the opposite side of the s t r i p , the establishment of the A u s t r a l i a n Baptist Missionary Society. The road continues along past another b u i l d i n g , the tradestore of the church-run Telefomin Development Association (TDA), the largest structure save one i n the s u b - d i s t r i c t . From there the road s k i r t s the edge of a grassy marsh to l i n k up a c r e s c e n t - l i k e arrangement of v i l l a g e s perched along the rim of a sloping tableland. Here the colours and forms are evidences of the Telefolmin and t h e i r a c t i v i t i e s , the v i l l a g e s marked by the faded grey thatch of houses ranged around dazzling white clearings innocent of the colours of the bush. These s i t e s overlook f i n g e r - l i k e ridges and jumbled streams and ravines where the nearer garden c l e a r i n g s are marked by fences and fallow land i s s i g n a l l e d by t a l l clumps of feathery casuarina trees. Brown or p u r p l i s h patches reveal new garden c l e a r i n g s while d i s t a n t wisps of smoke t e l l of men working further a f i e l d . Though the most s t r i k i n g natural feature of Ifitaman i s the Sepik i t s e l f , the Ok Tekin, Ifitaman takes i t s name from the Ok I f i , a small creek flowing across the marsh and past the v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p . Properly speaking, Ifitaman comprises only that section of the v a l l e y between the confluence of the Ok Sol and the Ok Tekin i n the east to the junction of the Ok Tekin and the Ok Ham i n the west. The section above the Sol i s Tekintaman, the home of the Falamin-^-neighbours and t r a d i t i o n a l enemies. Perhaps six miles broad and eight miles long, Ifitaman i s surrounded by mountains (see Map 3',, p. k i l l 1 ) . . From the h i l l named Taamettigin, where Falamin bodies were counted a f t e r b a t t l e and where the government primary school now stands, i t i s possible to get a f a i r view of the v a l l e y on a cl e a r day. To the north l i e the Mittags whose forested flanks are dotted with gardens. Rising to about 8000 feet, the Mittags are the source of numerous streams running south to the Tekin. Save for a few limestone c l i f f s and s l i d e scars, t h i s range forms an unbroken green w a l l separating Ifitaman from Eliptaman. Towering on the east bank of the Sol i s a southern extension of t h i s range, the T i r p i t z Mountains. Like the Mittags and most of the other nearby ranges, these are limestone mountains pock-marked and honeycombed by karst formations: caves and sinkholes abound and streams issue full-blown from the gaping black depths of the massif i t s e l f . On a l a t e afternoon the harsh white of the limestone i s transformed into a c o r a l glow, echoing the sunset. Telefolmin have no encompassing name for t h i s range, or for the others, p r e f e r r i n g instead to confer i d e n t i t y on each crest and peak. The mountain at the head of the Ok Balam i s Balamtigin, and here gardens temporarily pre-empt fo r e s t i n depressions or on the steep slopes. Beyond Balamtigin to the east l i e Uwutigin and I f a a l t i g i n . Uwutigin, at the source of the Ok Sol, i s where the people known as the Uwutigin Kasel o r i g i n a t e . I f a a l t i g i n , a towering mist-shrouded block surrounded by l e s s e r peaks, i s a s p i r i t house presiding over the dwelling houses of the v i l l a g e where momoyok—those who die by v i o l e n c e — l i v e . Away to the east and beyond the lands of the Falamin looms the great s h i p - l i k e mass of Kafantigin, the "awakening mountain" over which the sun begins i t s d a i l y course and where the Ok Tekin s t a r t s i t s journey which ends at the Sepik estuary. Beyond Kafantigin to the southeast l i e the V i c t o r Emmanuels, running westwards to form the Hindenburg Range and the Star Mountains straddling the border with I r i a n Jaya. In the V i c t o r Emmanuels the Fl y River, the southern counterpart of the Sepik, finds i t s beginning as the Ok Feneng. The Feneng, together with the Ok Imig, r i s e s i n the sheer southern face of the Hindenburg Wall, the imposing limestone b a r r i e r overlooking the lands of the Fegolmin and other Faiwol-speaking peoples. Seen from Taamettigin, the V i c t o r Emmanuels o f f e r a l e s s severe and dramatic aspect, and when the morning mists have l i f t e d they can be distinguished as a seri e s of p a r a l l e l ridges clad i n mossy beech f o r e s t . It i s over the 8,000 to 10,000 foot ridges that trading routes make t h e i r way through e e r i l y s i l e n t moss forest to Fegolmin i n the south, a wearying trek of two or three days. The southwestern rim of Ifitaman i s formed by the Behrmanns,.a lower offshoot of the V i c t o r Emmanuels. The Behrmanns are mountains of a d i f f e r e n t sort, however, since t h e i r northern face shows kunai grassland rather than f o r e s t : the r e s u l t of Afek's fire-making. Few streams are found here, the water percolating down through the porous limestone instead. Those water-courses that e x i s t are e a s i l y distinguished by the fringes of dark f o r e s t • •. along t h e i r banks. As with many of the streams to the north, these streams are resurgences from within the mountains themselves and emerge from cave mouths. Some of these, l i k e Okaaltem, are abemtem, sacred or. forbidden places which are not to be disturbed, whose water i s not for men's l i p s , and past which people must go i n s i l e n c e . I t i s at the foot of the Behrmanns that the Ok Tekin cuts a deep and narrow gorge; a few miles doxmstream the Ok Tekin i s joined by the Ok Ilam before i t e x i t s i n a seri e s of rapids through the spectacular chasm surmounted by I l t i g i n and Abemtigin, the two easternmost sentinels of the Star Mountains. Several smaller s i d e ^ v a l l e y s adjoin Ifitaman—Nongkaman to the south, Soltaman to the north, Okfekaman to the northwest. With the exception of two small hamlets i n Okfekaman, none of these holds permanent settlements, being instead places to which people walk—sometimes for several h o u r s — t o make gardens and sojourn i n the bush. . This, then, i s the p h y s i c a l s e t t i n g of the Telefolmin. In the next section we w i l l begin by exploring how Telefolmin inhabit i t . 52 CHAPTER 2 THE BACKGROUND OF TELEFOL LIFE i . Introduction In t h i s chapter I ou t l i n e the general context of T e l e f o l culture i n terms of a l i m i t e d number of themes that pervade d a i l y l i f e . Though others could doubtless be found, these themes sum up economically the nature of work and s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s i n Telefolmin, and are part of the necessary foundation for further understanding of T e l e f o l c u l t u r e . In each of the follox<ring sections I present the content i n terms of two complementary and often opposed poles. This i s i n accord with the way Telefolmin tend to think about these sides of t h e i r l i v e s , i n terms of contrast and a d u a l i s t i c formulation. Such a presentation adumbrates the thematic organization of T e l e f o l r i t u a l and myth, which s e l e c t s such p o l a r i t i e s as the t o p i c a l focus of attention. In addition, t h i s format allows some in s i g h t also into many of the ambivalences and complications a r i s i n g from l i f e l e d i n such terms. i i . Gardening and Hunting Telefolmin are subsistence c u l t i v a t o r s dependent upon taro as the staple of t h e i r d i e t , s ubstantial i f monotonous fare which they supplement and embellish with the r e s u l t s of c o l l e c t i n g , hunting, and pig husbandry. Though a key part of the d e f i n i t i o n of Telefolmin as people i s t h e i r membership i n permanent and more or le s s t i d y v i l l a g e s , they are pri m a r i l y a forest people and i t i s i n the for e s t that they make t h e i r gardens and seek game. Continually a c t i v e , the v i l l a g e r s of Ifitaman are keen, energetic, and able i n these pursuits. For men and for women, gardening i s both a means and an end i n i t s e l f , and of a l l the T e l e f o l v i r t u e s , industry i s given a s p e c i a l place. For men there i s an a d d i t i o n a l and more precarious sphere, that of hunting, i n which they put s k i l l and luck to the t e s t . Gardening and hunting frame and shape the energies and preoccupations of day-to-day l i f e f o r men i n Telefolmin, twin poles around which much of t h e i r experience i s organized, affo r d i n g the context of conversation and r e f l e c t i o n as well as of a c t i v i t y . Though occasionally tedious to the outsider, gardening and hunting are i n e v i t a b l y the topics of chats around an evening's f i r e , and i f Telefolmin sometimes give the impression of being laconic and closed i n t h e i r manner, t h e i r discussions of the current state of gardens or of l i k e l y locations of game are always animated and d e t a i l e d . In the process they reveal not only t h e i r impressive knowledge of such things, but also t h e i r consuming i n t e r e s t i n them. "Taro i s the same as a b a b y — i f you look a f t e r i t w e l l , you w i l l fare w e l l . " —Dakasim Taro (Colocasia esculenta) i s c a l l e d iman i n T e l e f o l , a word synonymous with unankalin, 'food'. To be without taro (iman binim) i s to be without food, near the brink of s t a r v a t i o n — e v e n i f , as i s v i r t u a l l y always the case, there are ample amounts of sweet potato (Ipomea batatas, waan) a v a i l a b l e . To be hungry (iman tep) i s to eat a meal without taro. Other crops, and there are many, may each be valued for the v a r i e t y they o f f e r , but none can be seen as any more than supplements or garnishes for taro, the true food. It i s d i f f i c u l t to convey the sense of i d e n t i f i c a t i o n Telefolmin have with t h i s crop, or the high esteem i n which i t i s held. In T e l e f o l eyes, taro i s p a r t i c u l a r l y t h e i r own, part of the c u l t u r a l bequest l e f t them by Afek, the Ancestress. Men may describe i t as the "bone" (strength) of the Telefolmin as a people, one of the cornerstones of t h e i r existence, Telefolmin are aware that a number of t h e i r neighbours r e l y more heavily on sweet potato than taro, and they seize upon t h i s as one means of d i s t i n g u i s h i n g themselves from such others. Thus Telefolmin i l l u s t r a t e the near-proverbial s h i f t i n e s s and laz i n e s s of t h e i r Atbalmin neighbours to the west by emphasizing that the Atbalmin zest f o r hunting i s not matched by t h e i r gardening. Atbalmin gardens are notoriously poor and few, and are planted almost e x c l u s i v e l y i n sweet potato instead of taro. Men who have v i s i t e d the Oksapmin area to the east remark upon the short-sightedness of Oksapmin c u l t i v a t i o n p r a c t i c e . Unlike Telefolmin, the Oksapmin imprudently f e l l a l l trees when c l e a r i n g t h e i r f o rest gardens, rather than allowing some to remain standing i n and around the margins of the c l e a r i n g . This has—'from the perspective of people committed to t a r o — a number of i l l e f f e c t s , including the drying-out of the s o i l and f u l l exposure to the sun (bad for tar o ) , as well as reducing the l i k e l i h o o d that f o r e s t regeneration w i l l provide fallow cover. The net r e s u l t i s that f o r e s t has i n large areas given way to grassland, land which could only be suitable f o r sweet p o t a t o — n o t taro. Thus the Oksapmin must pay for t h e i r improvidence- by c h r o n i c a l l y l i v i n g with the misfortune of having to eat sweet potato i n l i e u of the inestimably superior taro. While i t i s c l e a r that much of T e l e f o l fondness for taro stems from a v a r i e t y of gustatory chauvinism, Telefolmin themselves point to the self-evident nature of taro's s u p e r i o r i t y as a food. Taro, they remark, i s a strong food that s a t i s f i e s e a s i l y and f u l l y . Compared to taro, other foods—even the s t a r c h i e s t — a r e " l i k e water". While a r e l a t i v e l y modest taro w i l l . s u f f i c e to sustain a man through a day's arduous work, one must eat much sweet potato before appetites are sated—and then one becomes hungry again at mid-day! And while other foods may provide a v a r i e t y of flavours, the fragrant chestnut-like tastecof good taro i s unexcelled i n i t s appeal to the T e l e f o l palate. Despite what appear—to T e l e f o l m i n — t o be taro's obvious advantages over other crops, throughout Papua New Guinea taro i s normally a staple only i n the warm co a s t a l and lowland i n t e r i o r areas. The majority of peoples i n the cooler uplands r e l y instead upon sweet potato as the mainstay of t h e i r subsistence (Watson 1965, 1977). In higher elevations (above 4000 feet) taro i s much slower than sweet potato to mature, as w e l l as producing lower y i e l d s . This i s no l e s s true i n Telefolmin than i t i s elsewhere, and taro planted i n the higher mountain gardens at elevations of between 6500 and 7000 feet can take as long as two years to mature. In addition, taro requires appreciably more labour than sweet potato to plant. While sweet potato may be propagated from vines which p r o l i f e r a t e over the surface of the ground, taro can only be planted from stalks whose weight must be borne from one garden s i t e to the next, each s t a l k bearing only a s i n g l e (but large) corm. Telefolmin are, of course, f u l l y aware of t h i s difference and point out others as w e l l . For instance, sweet potato vines may merely be thrust below the s o i l ' s surface to take root, while i t i s necessary to wield a heavy digging s t i c k with great force to make a hole deep enough to properly accommodate taro. In addition, taro i s vulnerable to a number of b l i g h t s and to even short drought, which endanger both the growing crop and the precious supply of stalks used as planting material. Nonetheless, Telefolmin s t e a d f a s t l y i n s i s t that taro i s t a s t i e r and more s a t i s f y i n g — s w e e t potato i s c l e a r l y easier to plant, but who would l i k e to l i v e on a diet of sweet potato? Hungry times are those i n which one eats sweet potato because the supply of taro i s short; prosperous times are those i n which a l l the sweet potato i s used as pig-fodder; the best times are those i n which pigs are fed nothing but cooked taro. Whereas a good taro crop i s f u l l evidence of a gardener's industry, there i s no p a r t i c u l a r merit i n having produced many sweet potatoes. Though Telefolmin are not given to b o a s t i n g — a t l e a s t among themselves—a gardener's mettle can be c l e a r l y indicated i n the claim, "I plant no sweet potato!". Dakasim's statement that taro i s the same as a baby c a r r i e s a much more d i r e c t and immediate import than we might at f i r s t imagine. Taro, l i k e other garden crops, domestic animals, and humans, i s endowed with sinikj ' s p i r i t ' , and has among other things the f a c u l t y of hearing human speech. Thus, taro must not be i n s u l t e d or shamed i n speech, l e s t the edible portion below the surface of the ground depart, leaving the gardener with no food to harvest. On the other hand, taro may be coaxed, urged, and chided to grow wel l . Not only must taro be respected i n word, but i n deed as w e l l : i t should not be handled roughly or tossed about, Should t h i s somehow happen, any man present w i l l pass the taro ( s t a l k or corm) under h i s legs to 'fasten i t s sinife', j u s t as women do with small c h i l d r e n when they f a l l or hurt them-selves. And, as with small c h i l d r e n , he w i l l cradle i t i n h i s arms, cry over i t , and speak soothing words to i t . Though a l l garden crops share these c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s to some extent, they apply pre-eminently to taro, which i s the garden crop par excellence. The presence of gardens i n the bush i s s i g n a l l e d at a distance by the sight of breaks i n the f o r e s t on mountain flanks or by t h i n wisps of smoke r i s i n g above the trees. At closer range the tock of an axe or the laughter of c h i l d r e n i n d i c a t e s a family at work. A l l along the major tracks between v i l l a g e s there i s an intermittent branching of smaller, narrower paths leading to household plantations. One of the most pleasing sights i n Ifitaman i s a taro garden set against the backdrop of the f o r e s t . Whereas the bush o f f e r s a dark and somber aspect, gardens are places where sunlight and broken shade alternate and the sky may be seen. Surrounded by sturdy fences, garden clearings are f i l l e d with a profusion of green taro leaves gently nodding i n the breeze, punctuated here and there with cornstalks, banana trees, tobacco seedlings, clumps of sugar cane, beans climbing up poles; the ground i t s e l f i s covered with squash and cucumber vines. The p a r k - l i k e atmosphere of the garden i s enhanced by a few forest trees l e f t standing to temper the sun, echoed by i r r e g u l a r l y spaced pandanus trees whose f r u i t i s highly prized and whose presence t e s t i f i e s to the gardener's previous attentions to the land. 57 Each T e l e f o l household maintains roughly a dozen or so such gardens scattered through d i f f e r e n t t r a c t s of bush, often accompanied by makeshift shelters or more sub s t a n t i a l houses, At any given time some gardens w i l l be bearing, others w i l l require weeding, some w i l l be i n the process of c l e a r i n g and planting while yet others w i l l be nearing exhaustion as the l a s t remaining corms are dug out of the earth. On the average, a hard-working family w i l l manage to c l e a r and plant about one garden per month, replacing another that w i l l be abandoned for the forest to reclaim. Since taro i s not seasonal, and since there are no regular f l u c t u a t i o n s i n the climate, the e n t i r e process goes on as one continuous round, a steady rhythm of labouring and reaping labour's rewards'. The f i r s t stage i n the process of making a garden i s deciding upon a l i k e l y s i t e . Here there are many a l t e r n a t i v e s . Most Telefolmin l i k e to have t h e i r gardens d i s t r i b u t e d f a i r l y evenly throughout the range of elevation zones that Ifitaman affords, thus assuring a good mix of e c o l o g i c a l settings for t h e i r taro. Each z o n e — d i i p , dagaan, toliim—offers i t s own advantages and r i s k s , which must be weighed. Gardens located i n the warm, low-lying diip land w i l l mature f a i r l y r a p i d l y , with six to eight months between planting and harvest. But taro planted i n diip tends also to be more vulnerable to r o t , b l i g h t , and insect pests than taro planted higher i n the v a l l e y . On the other hand, taro which i s planted i n the cool, high toliim zone i s l e s s susceptible to such hazards, but can take anywhere from eighteen to twenty-four months to reach maturity. Taro planted i n the intermediate d.agaan zone represents a compromise between these two a l t e r n a t i v e s . In general, the f i n a l d e c i s i o n for any p a r t i c u l a r garden w i l l be based upon a consideration not only of the r e l a t i v e merits of each of these zones i n them-selves, but also on the basis of the current d i s t r i b u t i o n of gardens i n production or near exhaustion. Thus, i f a man i s nearly f i n i s h e d harvesting a garden i n toliim, he w i l l be l i k e l y to begin c l e a r i n g another one i n a nearby tract, to replace i t . Such a course has the advantage of permitting the gardener and his family to r e l y upon the old garden for food and planting stock, thus eliminating the necessity of' arduously carrying provisions i n from elsewhere. Such decisions are reached between husband and wife and with the advice of neighbours, and are always complex, requiring s k i l l and managerial judgment i n order to balance anticipated requirements against varying p e r i o d i c i t i e s of growth and the possible contingencies of f a i l u r e . These unce r t a i n t i e s are a l l the more s t r i k i n g because Telefolmin juggle a l l these p o s s i b i l i t i e s without the aid of a calendar or any system of long-range time-reckoning. I t i s thus not su r p r i s i n g that, quite apart from p a r t i c u l a r s , the general T e l e f o l p o l i c y i s to place r e l i a n c e upon continued hard work to look a f t e r the future. Once a general area has been selected f o r c u l t i v a t i o n , other factors must be taken into account before a p a r t i c u l a r s t r e t c h of forest gives way to garden. Does the gardener, or his wife, have any established claims to land i n t h i s t ract? I f not, does anyone else have claims here? I f a man i s returning to a t r a c t i n which he has claims, he ought to consult others (e.g., parents, s i b l i n g s ) who also have r i g h t s i n an area before he begins c l e a r i n g . I f , on the other hand, the land i n question i s v i r g i n bush he may proceed without undue regard f o r the wishes and intentions of others, one of the at t r a c t i o n s of dis t a n t t r a c t s i n the deep f o r e s t . F i n a l l y , a man must decide on a p a r t i c u l a r spot for h i s p l o t . Walking through the f o r e s t , he stops here and there examining the surroundings f o r promising signs. Bending occasionally, he w i l l thrust h i s hand down to the ground, checking for the depth of the l e a f - l i t t e r , the humus mulch of the f o r e s t . The presence of a small creek or r i v u l e t bodes well, a safeguard against the drying of the s o i l so dangerous for .taro. The slope must be suitable--great enough to allow drainage i n heavy r a i n s , but not so steep as to encourage erosion—and the presence of broken earth i s noted, r a i s i n g the p o s s i b i l i t y of l a n d s l i d e s . Attention i s paid to.the l o c a t i o n of c l i f f s and rock outcrops, aids i n reducing the extent of fencing. If the gardener i s returning to land previously c u l t i v a t e d , he c a r e f u l l y checks the height and diameter of trees, such as casuarinas (tetip), that he previously planted as fallow cover. Large healthy trees are encouraging signs, stunted ones o f f e r l i t t l e to look forward to. Other t r e e s — t h o s e of the forests-give clues as w e l l , one of the best being at ulap (Ficus sp.) which i s a sure sign of s o i l good f o r taro. F i n a l l y , memories w i l l be searched for p r e c e d e n t s — e i t h e r good or p o o r — o f e a r l i e r gardens i n the same land. A f t e r a l l these de l i b e r a t i o n s have been completed, a matter of perhaps h a l f an hour, chips f l y with the f i r s t d e c i s i v e stroke of the axe. The garden has been begun. Though T e l e f o l women are quite capable with axes, . f e l l i n g trees i s men's work. For t h e i r part, women busy themselves with c l e a r i n g undergrowth, a l l the while keeping a sharp eye out for whatever l i z a r d s , r a t s , snakes or marsupials dart f o r t h from t h e i r erstwhile homes. These are women's p r i z e s , a sort of bonus they derive from the back-breaking work of wielding t h e i r bush-knives. In the old days, of course, s t e e l tools were not to be had. Then, men used polished stone adzes (fubi or mook), while women employed smaller verions of the same implements for t h e i r tasks. Nowadays, s t e e l tools have made the work of c l e a r i n g gardens l e s s taxing: older men reminisce about how they might spend the better part of a day f e l l i n g a f o r e s t giant, and how t h e i r urine ran red at the end of the day as a r e s u l t of t h e i r exertions. Steel blades make the going l i g h t e r now, and don't require p o l i s h i n g and retouching as o f t e n — b u t then .neither do they have the 'heat' (jnamiin) that the old adzes had, the work they perform does not always produce the bounty of the old stone blades. Once the i n i t i a l f e l l i n g and c l e a r i n g has been completed—a matter of perhaps three or four d a y s — t h e f i r s t sections are prepared for planting. The gardener—perhaps with the help of a brother, son, or b r o t h e r - i n - l a w — 6 0 w i l l drag o f f some of the l i g h t e r timbers to the downslope margins of the cl e a r i n g while women and c h i l d r e n heap the slash i n small p i l e s to dry i n the spaces newly opened to the sun, Then men and boys set to work s p l i t t i n g some of the remaining logs f o r fence-building, always a laborious task. As with so many other things, fence-making affords some measure of a man's industry, and hence h i s worth. The v e r t i c a l fence-piles must be driven deeply into the ground and securely lashed together with cane, l e s t wild pigs force an unwelcome entrance into the c l e a r i n g . Young women thinking about p o t e n t i a l husbands w i l l take some measure of t h e i r men by s u r r e p t i t i o u s l y t r y i n g to force, and thus t e s t , t h e i r fences. A poor fence betrays a lack of the q u a l i t i e s that make a man a good provider and earn him a name. Aft e r the fencing, a great number of the larger logs w i l l s t i l l remain i n the c l e a r i n g . Some of these w i l l be sectioned, hopefully to dry for future supplies of f i r e -wood, while others are simply l e f t where they l i e , l a t e r to provide walkways through the burgeoning garden. Over the next week or so the work proceeds at a steady and even pace. A l l the members of the household, men, women, and ch i l d r e n , take part. As the family's d a i l y needs are met with taro from mature gardens, the stal k s are cut, bundled, and allowed to dry for a day or so before being c a r r i e d to the new s i t e , If a producing garden i s near at hand, t h i s occasions l i t t l e d i f f i c u l t y — o t h e r w i s e , the heavy sta l k s must be c a r r i e d i n bundles or i n the ubiquitous netbags over narrow and s l i c k mountain paths. At t h i s time there may not be enough.stalks a v a i l a b l e from household harvests to s u f f i c e f o r the new planting requirements, i n which case a family w i l l often i n v i t e f r i e n d s , r e l a t i v e s , and other v i l l a g e r s to help them harvest an old garden to increase t h e i r supply of planting material. Those who help out w i l l keep the taro they harvest, to be reciprocated i n the same manner l a t e r on, Taro st a l k s are of c e n t r a l importance to Telefolmin. Though gardens are c e r t a i n l y the j o i n t projects of the f a m i l i e s who depend on them, the s t a l k s themselves are i n d i v i d u a l l y owned by each member of the household, and the i d e n t i f i c a t i o n between a person and h i s supply of stalks i s very strong. Each T e l e f o l boy and g i r l receives a small number of sta l k s from h i s parents between the s i x t h and ninth year. From.this time on, each c h i l d begins to tend h i s own small p l o t s i n the family garden, increasing h i s stock as each 'mother' plant sends o f f a few shoots i n each planting. These st a l k s are the nucleus of a person's future l i v e l i h o o d and w i l l form the basis of each person's contribution to the household established with marriage. By the time they are i n t h e i r mid-teens, T e l e f o l youths and g i r l s are v i r t u a l l y s e l f -s u f f i c i e n t i n terms of garden production. One's supply of st a l k s i s thus both a token of and a means to the attainment of autonomy and the establishment of personal i n t e g r i t y . Thus, i f a garden i s , say, invaded by pigs, the gardener's anger and l o s s pertains not only to the f o r f e i t of the food the garden xrould have provided, nor simply to the los s of labour invested. Such reverses are t e l l i n g , to be sure, but the most s i g n i f i c a n t l o s s i s that of the s t a l k s themselves, for they are i r r e p l a c e a b l e i n a way that food i t s e l f i s not. A person's stock of fii-p serves as a cumulative record of h i s work over the years, going beyond the immediacies of the s i t u a t i o n at any one point i n time. I t i s for t h i s reason that the gardens of middle-aged men are larger than those of t h e i r j u n i o r s — n o t only i s the number and extent of gardens l i m i t e d by the i n i t i a t i v e and labour of the i n d i v i d u a l at any p a r t i c u l a r time, but more importantly by the a v a i l a b i l i t y of planting material, which, i f abundant, generates i t s own imperative to industry. I t thus happens that one of the most s i g n i f i c a n t ways of opening and maintaining friendships with other v i l l a g e r s — or even s t r a n g e r s — i s to make a small but immensely meaningful g i f t of a few taro s t a l k s , and some men can point to plants i n t h e i r gardens as a r e g i s t r y of t h e i r good r e l a t i o n s with others. A person's l i f e i s thus intimately bound with the c a r e f u l husbandry of t h e i r taro, and when a person dies, so ends the l i f e of t h e i r s t a l k s , which must be burned ( c f . Schwimmer 1973:112-22). 62 When a supply of s t a l k s has been c o l l e c t e d and transported to the new garden, the planting begins i n earnest. While the women take up t h e i r heavy digging s t i c k s and d e f t l y thrust the stalks into the holes, men and boys w i l l gather together the now-dried slash and p i l e t h i s at the base of the largest trees l e f t standing i n the garden. This i s set a l i g h t , and soon the sound of c r a c k l i n g wood and the smell of smoke permeates the c l e a r i n g . The ash from the f i r e s i s i n a perfunctory way scattered around the area with bark sheets, though most of i t remains at the bases of the trees. Such spots w i l l be reserved f o r p a r t i c u l a r plants, such as tobacco, yams, or bananas, that can best make use of the r i c h concentration of nutrients i n the ash. In a d d i t i o n , the f i r i n g has the e f f e c t of k i l l i n g the trees where the slash has been heaped. These trees w i l l gradually lose t h e i r leaves, which allows a greater amount of sunlight i n for the by-then'established plants; i n addition, the leaves themselves w i l l act as a mulch, thus sustaining the growing crop. F i n a l l y , the f i r e imparts mamttn, or 'heat', to the earth, thus underwriting the vigour of the coming garden. Once the f i r i n g has been f i n i s h e d , husband, wife,, and c h i l d r e n complete the planting of t h e i r own p l o t s i n the garden. Though the produce of these i s for common consumption, each i s the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y of the person who f i r s t planted the s l i p s . In the meanwhile, the garden inventory i s fleshed out with subsidiary crops, such as beans, squash, corn, gourds and greens, a l l planted around the margins of the garden or i n the i n t e r s t i c e s between the already planted taro. Certain crops that grow upwards above the l e v e l of the taro are the concerns of men, such as bananas, sugar cane, pandanus trees, and yams with t h e i r climbing vines. Yams are the nearly exclusive prerogative of senior men and require a great deal of work and s k i l l to produce, though d i e t a r i l y i n s i g n i f i c a n t . ' Yams do not fare well i n Telefolmin, and are v i r t u a l l y impossible to grow i n higher elevations. Since yams require a generally dry regime, and since Telefolmin i s a wet place (between 135 and 18Q inches of r a i n f a l l annually), great care must be taken i n the s e l e c t i o n of s u i t a b l e s o i l s . Most men prefer to plant yams i n raised a n t h i l l s , since these are always well-drained; i f t h i s i s impossible, then the s o i l must be broken, t i l l e d , and mounded before planting, Later, poles w i l l be cut for the vines to climb. Sugar cane i s highly prized by Telefolmin, both as a snack and as a source of moisture on hot days. Children are p a r t i c u l a r l y fond of sugar cane, and a devoted father w i l l always see to i t that he plants plenty for t h e i r b e n e f i t . Sugar cane i s of p a r t i c u l a r importance for other reasons as w e l l , since most men's r i t e s e n t a i l a p r o h i b i t i o n on drinking water while they are i n progress. Thus sugar cane becomes e s s e n t i a l for the conduct of the v i l l a g e c u l t l i f e . A man who always has a ready supply of sugar cane i s much appreciated, and w i l l be sure to earn the respect of h i s fellows. This, l i k e most other things, comes at the expense of great e f f o r t and s k i l l . To grow proper sugar cane, one must construct a large t r e l l i s to which the growing s t a l k s are lashed. This prevents the cane from c o l l a p s i n g when i t reaches a c e r t a i n height, ensuring that i t w i l l grow to a great diameter (perhaps three inches or more)--not only does such cane look impressive, i t also contains a d e l i c i o u s l y r i c h and succulent p i t h . In order to prevent a drying and toughening of the cane and i t s woody peel, a man must p e r i o d i c a l l y return to h i s cane thicket to remove old leaf-sheaths, thus f r u s t r a t i n g the boring insects that are the cause of the toughening. Not a l l men are equally assiduous i n t h e i r care of sugar cane, but a man who takes the trouble i s e a s i l y known by the sugar he o f f e r s v i s i t o r s . Of a l l of the s p e c i f i c a l l y 'male' crops, the most s i g n i f i c a n t i s perhaps the o i l pandanus, em. The f r u i t of t h i s tree i s prized nearly as highly as pork, and the thick red sauce of the pandanus f r u i t i s symbolically seen as blood. Thus, a man who i s f e e l i n g sluggish may eat some of t h i s s p e c i a l f o o d — o f t e n the occasion of a minor f e a s t — t o 'change h i s blood' and renexv h i s vigour. G i f t s of 64 pandanus occasion fond memories ? and a meal of pandanus and grated taro cakes i s often a favoured form of thanking someone for help they have rendered, e.g., i n housebuilding. Aside from these things, however, pandanus i s p a r t i c u l a r l y s i g n i f i c a n t f o r yet another reason. I t i s the long e s t - l i v e d crop that Telefolmin c u l t i v a t e , remaining and bearing f r u i t for decades. For th i s reason, a man's pandanus trees are at any time a more or les s permanent record of h i s h i s t o r y of c u l t i v a t i o n , a h i s t o r y renewed i n per i o d i c v i s i t s to old garden s i t e s (long since overgrown) when he inspects the trees f o r signs of t h e i r long red cob-like f r u i t . These trees are a v i s i b l e and p o s i t i v e i n d i c a t i o n of a man's connection with the land and serve to v a l i d a t e h i s claims to p a r t i c u l a r p l o t s of land: i f a man can point to a pandanus tree he himself (or h i s father or mother's brother) has planted, a l l questioning of his r i g h t s to c u l t i v a t i o n i s d i s p e l l e d . These trees, as w e l l as casuarinas, are thus used as e x p l i c i t boundary-markers and statements of claim, and one of the more serious acts a man can commit i s to cut down another man's pandanus trees. Over a period of another week or so the area of the garden w i l l have been more or l e s s completely planted. A l l around the edges of the garden c e r t a i n v a r i e t i e s of taro, s p e c i f i c a l l y selected f o r t h e i r poor texture and bland flavour, w i l l f i n d homes. These rather l a c k l u s t r e v a r i e t i e s are planted to protect the rest of the garden—should r a t s or marsupials make t h e i r way into the garden to feast on the crop, these plants w i l l be the f i r s t they encounter. I f these animals are at a l l sensible, t h i s unappetizing taro w i l l surely o f f e r an unpromising prospect, leading such pests to look elsewhere f o r a s a t i s f y i n g meal. In t h i s way i n f e r i o r taro i s d e l i b e r a t e l y maintained and c u l t i v a t e d to deceive the small furry animals that threaten the true crop. If the garden i s large, or i f there are other gardens within reasonable walking distance, or simply i f the gardener f e e l s l i k e i t , a small garden house w i l l be erected near to the garden, thus removing the need to walk from v i l l a g e to garden and back during periods of heavy work. F i n a l l y , a red t i plant (Cordyline sp,, tdbaa). w i l l make i t s appearance i n the centre of the garden, often surrounded by a t i n y fence. This, and the taro planted next to i t , i s amem, forbidden, and women and c h i l d r e n know enough not to touch or disturb t h i s , though they may not be ce r t a i n as to the d e t a i l s of i t s a r r i v a l ( c f . Clarke 1971:75, Appendix C; Buchbinder and Rappaport 1976; Wagner 1972:124-^9). From t h i s point on, no taro may be harvested from the garden u n t i l the men have come and uprooted t h i s t i plant (see also Rappaport 1968). Once the i n i t i a l phases of the garden have been inaugurated and seen through, a man w i l l d i r e c t h i s attentions elsewhere to a garden now well producing or another whose existence i s as yet only an int e n t i o n . The new garden i s now l e f t f o r a month or so before a woman or some c h i l d r e n return to do the f i r s t weeding. After another two or three months the f i r s t beans, cucumbers, and squashes w i l l be ready to harvest, during which time the garden w i l l again be weeded. During each of these subsequent v i s i t s the dead trees l e f t standing w i l l provide firewood, and as they are f e l l e d progressively more l i g h t i s l e t into the garden. From then on the garden w i l l be p e r i o d i c a l l y r e v i s i t e d to harvest second plantings of beans and greens and to keep track of the progress of the taro. At these times, small casuarina seedlings w i l l be transplanted to speed the recovery of the s o i l — t h e roots of the casuarina turn the s o i l black and strengthen i t . Though today's casuarinas, l i k e today's taro and domestic pigs, are neither as big nor as fast-growing as those of bygone generations, they nonetheless grow quickly, e s p e c i a l l y i f the planter knows the secret to hasten the lengthening of the growing trunk, These casuarinas help to guarantee the re-establishment of f o r e s t instead of useless grassland. As the taro matures i t w i l l be gradually harvested, the garden i t s e l f becoming more weed-infested as the harvesting progresses. Women, chil d r e n , and men w i l l come, f i l l t h e i r netbags, and s t r a i n under the weight of taro's bounty as they make t h e i r way back to the v i l l a g e or to other gardens demanding attention. Eventually, the garden w i l l be abandoned, the fences dismantled for firewood as the forest once again reclaims the c l e a r i n g . Then the gardener w i l l return only to reap l a t e harvests of bananas or sugar cane, or to check the p r o d u c t i v i t y of h i s pandanus stands, From time to time men w i l l return to t h e i r cas.uarinas, ' f o r marsupials have an especial l i k i n g for the bark of t h i s tree. But by t h i s time the garden has already passed from the scene, remaining only as a tangle of seedlings and saplings, to be cu l t i v a t e d again a f t e r perhaps twelve to twenty years i n forest fallow have passed. The abandoned garden i s no longer a place for the production of staples, but i s simply one of many places were game may be sought. "The things of the bush aren't looked a f t e r by men... wild pigs are. the enemies of gardens." —Dakasim If the garden provides the se t t i n g for the common engagement of men, women, and c h i l d r e n i n t h e i r mutual l i v e l i h o o d , hunting affords a context i n which men and youths stand c l e a r l y apart from women and ch i l d r e n i n t h e i r p u rsuits. While i t i s true that both women and c h i l d r e n do c o l l e c t various kinds of insects and small animals, t h i s i s not hunting proper, but rather (from the men's point of view) the adventitious seizure, without weapons, of whatever f a l l s to hand. Here there i s one very s i g n i f i c a n t exception, the nucturnal c o l l e c t i o n of frogs which women undertake s i n g l y or i n groups. Following along the margins of streams or wading i n swamp or marshland, women may spend the better part of a night with t h e i r bamboo or pandanus torches, trapping frogs i n the open end of a large bamboo tube or simply catching them with quick thr.usts of'.the/hand. The r e s u l t i n g catch, which i s steamed with greens, can make both a tasty and s u r p r i s i n g l y large (and frequent) a d d i t i o n to the following day's meals. Though such additions seem p a r t i c u l a r l y important i n a dietary sense, men are not always enthusiastic about these r e s u l t s of women's work, perhaps r e f l e c t e d and engendered by the f a c t that a number of v a r i e t i e s of frogs are forbidden or tabu (amem) for men to eat. Frog gathering aside, hunting i s e x c l u s i v e l y a male preserve, underscored by the precept that women should not touch a man's arrows, l e s t they f a i l to f i n d t h e i r mark. Telefolmin t e l l a b r i e f t a l e (utuum sang) which serves to emphasize that women and hunting do not go together: An eagle (bogol) went into a cave a f t e r a kuyaam marsupial that was hiding there [both the eagle and t h i s marsupial are tabu to women]. A pregnant woman was i n the bush, c o l l e c t i n g mushrooms and gathering bark to make s t r i n g f o r netbags. She came near the. entrance to the cave and heard noise inside—when she looked, she saw that the eagle had k i l l e d a large kuyaam. The eagle wanted to leave the cave, but the woman blocked the entrance as i t t r i e d to f l y out, and she beat i t with a piece of rotten wood. She did t h i s , but the eagle f i x e d i t s talons i n her swollen b e l l y , s t i l l clutching the kuyaam i n i t s other claw. The woman died, but i t s talons were so deeply embedded i n her f l e s h that the eagle couldn't f l y free. Later, some men came and k i l l e d the eagle and placed the woman's body on an exposure platform. This eagle had k i l l e d two t h i n g s — the kuyaam with one hand, and the wOman with the other. Here, i n t h i s short n a r r a t i v e , we can see a p o l a r i z a t i o n of feminine pursuits and hunting. Though i n the f o r e s t , the woman—whose nature i s stressed by the fac t that she i s with c h i l d — i s engaged i n the innocuous pursuit of gathering mushrooms and c o l l e c t i n g bark-string for the netbags with which she c a r r i e s the f r u i t of her gardens and of her b e l l y (netbags acting as cradles for i n f a n t s ) . When she attacks the eagle, the hunter's prototype par excellence, she finds nothing more suitable than a piece of rotten wood. Rotten ('bad') wood has both the undesirable associations of wetness, coldness, and softness ( a l l symbolically feminine), and i s also the usual phrase for firewood (at mafak), with connotations of the.domestic hearth. Her fate i s sealed, though she was doomed at the outset, for women should never t r y to usurp the male r o l e of the hunter, e s p e c i a l l y when- the animals (bogol, kuyaam) are so c l e a r l y marked as' reserved f o r men. Just as the huge netbags. i n which women carry taro and babies form an inseparable part of t h e i r i d e n t i t y , so a man's bow and arrows are h i s companions wherever he goes, v i r t u a l items of masculine apparel, There are, of course, p r a c t i c a l reasons for t h i s , since one may never be sure when game may appear j u s t o f f the track. In the old days, of course, there was always the added p o s s i b i l i t y of enemy bowmen l y i n g i n ambush, and while such ambushes are now a thing of the past, the p o s s i b i l i t y of being set upon by biit sorcerers serves as an a d d i t i o n a l reason to keep one's weapons r e a d i l y at hand. Boys us u a l l y receive a small toy bow from t h e i r fathers by the time they are around s i x or seven years o l d , and from t h i s time on the lads w i l l spend more and more time apart from t h e i r mothers and s i s t e r s , chumming around i n the bush s t a l k i n g imaginary game or, better yet, small l i z a r d s or b i r d s . At i d l e times around the v i l l a g e they may te s t t h e i r marksmanship on an old banana s t a l k , while women r o l l out bark s t r i n g on t h e i r thighs or knot the s t r i n g into netbags. L i k e l y as not, the boys' fathers w i l l chat amongst themselves while putting the f i n i s h i n g touches on t h e i r arrows with a marsupial-tooth c h i s e l or c a r e f u l l y stroking on red, white, or black pigments with a brush improvised from the stem of a cordyline l e a f . In f a c t , T e l e f o l arrows (un) are things of great beauty and workmanship, as are the women's netbags. Though many of the tools and implements of T e l e f o l l i f e go unadorned, men l a v i s h meticulous at t e n t i o n on t h e i r arrows f o r both aesthetic and t e c h n i c a l reasons. The shafts of the arrows are made from the l i g h t but strong and s t r a i g h t bi-il cane to which a great variety, of points are a f f i x e d with i n t r i c a t e and f i n e cane bindings. There are a number of d i f f e r e n t arrow types, distinguishable by both form and use. L i z a r d and b i r d arrows may carry three or four prongs, each notched and barbed, or they may be blunt-headed so as not to damage the skin or plumage of the quarry, Marsupial arrows are mounted with long black-palm points, most of which have double rows of curved barbs and elegantly i n c i s e d and painted designs around the base. By f a r the most elaborate arrow i s the kaangat, with a broad bamboo blade. This arrow i s for wild pigs, cassowaries, or enemies and i n e v i t a b l y receives elaborate decorative attention. A kaangat w i l l u s u a l l y be ornamented with some red b i r d feathers (aids i n t h e i r f l i g h t ) and a few wild pig's b r i s t l e s , betokening i t s intended target. Such arrows, which are the objects of these e f f o r t s , may be much admired, and two men who meet may s i g n i f y t h e i r friendship by exchanging p a r t i c u l a r l y f i n e arrows with each other. The bows Telefolmin use are, unlike t h e i r arrows, not the products of t h e i r own craftsmanship, but must be traded i n from the outside. Made from one of two v a r i e t i e s of black-palm (neither of which grow within T e l e f o l t e r r i t o r y , belonging instead to the lowlands), these bows (unuuk) may be had from the Fegolmin or Opkeemin to the south and west i n exchange for the large c o n i c a l bundles of tobacco (suukang) f o r which Telefolmin are l o c a l l y renowned. As such, these bows are valuable items, and l i k e the old stone adzes, f i n d t h e i r way into bridewealth payments. A youth w i l l often be presented with one of these by h i s father or other kinsman when he i s capable of drawing these s t i f f and powerful weapons; i f the lad has some enterprise and i n i t i a t i v e , he may not wait t h i s long, instead j o i n i n g a trading party heading south, carrying h i s own tobacco bundles. In a d d i t i o n to the t r a d i t i o n a l and ubiquitous bows and arrows, there i s normally at le a s t one man i n each T e l e f o l v i l l a g e who has been able to buy (often with the contributions of friends) a shotgun from the mission s t o r e — p r o v i d i n g he i s able to. get a government permit f o r i t . This i s not always possi b l e , since the government p o l i c y i s to l i m i t as f a r as p r a c t i c a l the number of shotguns i n any one area f o r the sound reason that an abundance of shotguns usually leads to a dearth of game. In the case of two men who had come in t o possession of shotguns f o r which they had no permits, the guns had to be surrendered to the p a t r o l o f f i c e r s ; one man lamented that t h i s was the same as i f h i s bones were removed, while the other was so distraught that he daubed himself with cl a y and went into mourning for h i s l o s t gun. While few men have shotguns, these at t i t u d e s are nonetheless, expressions of a de e p l y - f e l t connection between hunting and men's d e f i n i t i o n of themselves, and thus t e l l us something more general about hunting i n T e l e f o l l i f e . If one walks into a T e l e f o l family house (unangam), one i s l i k e l y to notice a number of animal bones adorning the back w a l l : perhaps a few cassowary breastbones, wild pigs' jaws with t h e i r curving tusks, and sometimes a number of marsupial jawbones as w e l l . Very l i t t l e s i g n i f i c a n c e may be a t t r i b u t e d to these i n and of themselves, but c o l l e c t i v e l y they serve as a sort of trophy rack, speaking for both the s k i l l and good fortune of the men of the household as hunters. Suspended from the r a f t e r s i n soot-blackened bamboo tubes are yet other f r u i t s of the chase—plumes and feathers of a number of d i f f e r e n t birds, among a man's prized possessions, f o r these provide many of the materials with which a man adorns himself (and other members of the household) on f e s t i v e occasions. T e l e f o l men, i n p a r t i c u l a r , take great pride i n t h e i r appearance i n such settings, and while i t i s po s s i b l e to acquire such things through exchange or trade, men are p a r t i c u l a r l y proud of a crown of feathers made from birds they themselves have shot: such f i n e r y i s valuable i n i t s e l f , but also for the fa c t that i t proclaims a man's a b i l i t y i n a s t r i k i n g l y v i s i b l e way. When Karius and Champion f i r s t walked through the region i n 1927 they noted that the Telefolmin were "great dandies" and the T e l e f o l r e p e r t o i r e of items of se l f - d e c o r a t i o n makes extensive use of animals of the bush (Champion 1966:173). For everyday dress a number of older men may sport a p a i r of long black cassowary q u i l l s p r o j e c t i n g upwards from perforations i n t h e i r n o s t r i l s ; a bright white wild pig's tusk inserted through the nasal spetum enhances a man's face, and some men w i l l wear a small armlet made of the stretched and dried penis of a wild boar., If .a. man i s p a r t i c u l a r l y smartly a t t i r e d , he w i l l . b e almost c e r t a i n to wear a netbag-over h i s shoulders whose exterior may be l i n e d with h o r n b i l l , parrot, cockatoo or b i r d of paradise feathers. The superlative v a r i a n t s of such netbags are festooned with the skins C h a i r - l i k e black feathers i n t a c t ) of cassowaries, the t a i l s of wild pigs, or the white feathers of the hogol, the large mountain eagle. Though such things are usually too valuable for everyday wear, they are de vigeuv for anything c o n s t i t u t i n g an "'event''1'* Men's f i n e r y bespeaks, among other things, t h e i r pride as hunters, and part of t h i s pride finds i t s roots i n homelier contexts. As i n a number of other Papua New Guinea s o c i e t i e s , the giving and sharing of food i s an e s p e c i a l l y powerful idiom of s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s (cf. S c h i e f f e l i n 1976; Strathern 1973). One of the ways i n which a young man may endear himself to his wife's family i s to provide them with small amounts of game from time to time; a man wishing to patch up a quarrel with h i s wife may make a point of hunting for marsupials which she may eat, and a man bent on adultery may employ the same t a c t i c to entice the woman he desires. When a man's wife gives b i r t h , he must provide her and the women who have helped her with a small feast made up e n t i r e l y of bi r d s and marsupials, and one of the signs of a son's devotion to h i s mother—whatever h i s a g e — i s for him to, give her small items (again, birds or marsupials) of game to eat. Feeding c h i l d r e n i s perhaps one of the most highly valued acts i n Telefolmin, and a father who sees to i t that h i s c h i l d r e n have bush meat to eat i s c l e a r l y a father who can t r a n s l a t e h i s care for h i s c h i l d r e n into deeds. One middle-aged man tol d me proudly that not one of h i s ch i l d r e n had d i e d — a r e a l accomplishment, considering a high infant m o r t a l i t y r a t e — a n d he a t t r i b u t e d t h i s achievement to h i s s k i l l and energy i n hunting. Another man, a nearly toothless ancient by the name of Kwiyolim, remarked with an obvious a i r of s a t i s f a c t i o n that v i r t u a l l y a l l the young people of Derolengam v i l l a g e were his ch i l d r e n . This i s i n i t s e l f not so remarkable, since T e l e f o l kinship terminology classes a l l of a man's r e l a t i v e s of successive generations as man, ' c h i l d ' . But Kwiyolim followed t h i s up with the statement that when he was young he took s p e c i a l care to see to i t that h i s 'children' always received some of h i s hunting bag. If t h i s claim i s exaggerated—as i t almost c e r t a i n l y i s — i t nonetheless makes the point, for Kwiyolim has almost unparalleled renown among Derolengam men as a hunter, a reputation which finds much of i t s s i g n i f i c a n c e in. the a c t u a l i z a t i o n of sentiments and connections through g i f t s of game. Men of advanced years l i k e Kwiyolim f i n d that such reputation and the acts upon which i t i s based stand them i n good stead. Due to a feature of the T e l e f o l system of food p r o h i b i t i o n s , most men who l i v e past middles-age are debarred from consuming the f l e s h of domestic pigs. Thus, whenever such pigs are slaughtered, senior men are excluded from what may otherwise be a general d i s t r i b u t i o n of pork. In such circumstances they can do nothing but look on, which w i l l occasionally spur younger men to a remembrance of the past generosity of the old-timers. I f a younger man i s moved to action, he w i l l set out to hunt foods which old men may eat, so that the l a t t e r are not l e f t out. In the words of Dakasim, who i s himself a noted hunter, "I am the c h i l d of an old man, not a young one.... So I think of the old men and hunt". Though a f u l l discussion of T e l e f o l food p r o h i b i t i o n s i s reserved for Chapter 3, here we may note that the system of r e s t r i c t i o n s on the edibilityco'f game (and thus on the possible r e c i p i e n t s of a hunter's largesse) has as a consequence an emphasis on d i v e r s i f i c a t i o n of a hunter's e f f o r t s . Not only should a man provide, i n a general sense, a number of people with meat from the bush, but he should also see to i t that the game that he bags i s permissible to those close to him. A man who f a i l s to do t h i s , p a r t i c u l a r l y with regard to the women and c h i l d r e n of h i s own family, may run into trouble, as i l l u s t r a t e d by the following utuvm sang; There was a man who was always hunting oga b i r d s [forbidden .to women]. He would always hunt these, and a f t e r he shot them he would come home to cook and eat them while h i s wife j u s t looked on. One day he brought home a f i n e oga and began cooking i t i n the hearth. His wife came and sat down 73 nearby ? merely watching as usual, While he was roasting h i s b i r d , he glanced over at her and noticed that she was s i t t i n g with her legs apart. He became excited, and soon they were copulating. While t h i s was going on,, the man's wife nudged the oga. across the f l o o r w i t h her foot to where a dog was s i t t i n g . The dog took the b i r d i n h i s teeth and ran outside with i t . When the man r e a l i z e d what had happened, he got up and shouted for the dog to come back.,., But the dog ignored him, and he couldn't run outside a f t e r i t because he s t i l l had an erection and .'. couldn't put on h i s penis-gourd. And so the wife, who never got any of the oga that her husband hunted, played a t r i c k on him.... The p r o v i s i o n of small game i s one of the defining features of a man's duties to h i s wife. There i s a sweet touch of irony here, since the woman not only deprives her husband of h i s catch by seducing him, but also manages to heighten the contrast between her f u l f i l l m e n t of conjugal obligations and her husband's f a i l u r e . The o b l i g a t i o n to provide small game i s a d i f f u s e and generalized one, but a man who c o n s i s t e n t l y f a i l s to provide h i s wife with such meat runs the r i s k of being accused by her of eating menstrual blood. This i s one of the gravest and most shaming i n s u l t s a woman can o f f e r , for aside from the obvious repugnance the i n s u l t conveys, i t also implies that a man i s so lazy that he would f i n d eating menstrual blood (which men view with disgust and fear) preferable to the e f f o r t of hunting.''' The game most often taken by hunters are nuk, marsupials. Like other f o r e s t creatures, nuk are not looked a f t e r by men and are i n some sense beyond t h e i r c o n t r o l , being cared for instead by nukamin and nukunang, male and female s p i r i t beings usually i n v i s i b l e to men. Nuk come i n several v a r i e t i e s , ranging from the t i n y katip and ditip to the large arboreal dabool (a tree kangaroo the s i z e of a dog). One of the things a l l nuk have i n common i s that they are d i f f i c u l t to f i n d . Most nuk are nocturnal animals and hence r a r e l y v i s i b l e during the day, and though some nuk, such as the kuyaam, a r e garden-raiders, most avoid c l e a r i n g s and dwell e x c l u s i v e l y i n the f o r e s t . Here the T e l e f o l view of marsupial hunting i s that success or f a i l u r e depends not upon whether there are any nuk present, f o r they are always present i n the bush; success depends rather on.locating and being able to see the animals i n the f o r e s t . This accords w e l l with, the f a c t s , f or marsupials (with a few exceptions, such as watom, a small wallaby, or kutinim a carnivorous marsupial cat) r e l y upon concealment and s i l e n c e for s u r v i v a l , rather than upon speed or elusiveness. Because of the d i f f i c u l t i e s of l o c a t i n g and sighting nuk, T e l e f o l hunters are i n the habit of making small o f f e r i n g s , i n the form of r i p e bananas or some leaves of tobacco to Tenum Misim ("Generous Man"), an unseen bush s p i r i t who may allow the animals of the forest to become v i s i b l e to a bowman. Most men keep dogs (kayaam), small and usually skinny beasts, which c a n — e s p e c i a l l y i f well l o o k e d - a f t e r — h e l p them i n t h e i r search f o r game. The a b i l i t y of dogs to sense or detect animals i n the bush i s much-admired—dogs are able to do t h i s because when Afek scattered a l l the wild animals f a r from the v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p , the men covered t h e i r eyes (as they were supposed to) while her dog peeked. Though not considered nearly as valuable as pigs, nor as well cared f o r , a man often f e e l s great a f f e c t i o n for a good dog, who w i l l often accompany him whenever he leaves the v i l l a g e . In addition to these aids, some men have i n c a r e f u l l y tucked-away bags or packets an assortment of materials s p e c i f i c a l l y h e l p f u l i n discovering nuk. Such packets are j e a l o u s l y guarded and are highly secret, but one of the most important elements of many of them i s the claw of the eagle, bogol: the bogol i s the marsupial (and bird) hunter par excellence, tenacious and keen-eyed. Men who have seen bogol nests marvel at the success of these avian hunters, who c e r t a i n l y know how to look a f t e r t h e i r c h i l d r e n . The nests themselves reek with the smell of r o t t i n g marsupials k i l l e d i n such abundance that the ne s t l i n g s cannot consume them a l l . Yet other men from time to time enjoy the assistance of a selman, 'owl', These large nocturnal birds of prey are described as 'the same as a wireless' since p a r t i c u l a r ones may sometimes lead men to nuk i n the forest night x^ith t h e i r c a l l s . If a man has a garden house i n deep fo r e s t and at some remove from h i s garden, he may plant a green t i plant (kasak, Cordyline spp.) i n the v i c i n i t y , along with some nuk droppings and b i t s of tree bark half-chewed by other nuk. If successful, t h i s w i l l help the nuk l i v i n g i n the area to 'come out' so they can be e a s i l y shot. Since most nuk are nocturnal, men usually venture out into the for e s t at night to hunt them, a synonym for marsupial hunting being kayop tii-nemi-n, 'to walk by the moon'. Hunters normally go into the night s i n g l y or i n p a i r s , though occasionally more w i l l j o i n i n . Some of the most favoured areas for marsupial hunting are i n nuk bagan, 'marsupial ground', usually located high up'in the mountain forest and at some distance from gardening areas. Sometimes p a r t i c u l a r locations are selected, e s p e c i a l l y i f disturbed leaves, droppings, or claw and toothmarks on trees seen during the day betray the a c t i v i t i e s of nuk i n the bush. Men occasionally f e l l trees across streams, f o r these bridges then act as natural roadways (nuk Hep) for nuk passing from one bank to the o t h e r — i f not v i s i t e d too frequently by hunters, such crossings provide an i d e a l place f o r ambushes as the small animals make t h e i r way across the water. Ambush i s the most common t a c t i c employed i n hunting nuk (see Bulmer 1968), and a hunter must therefore be watchful and a l e r t while s i t t i n g q u i e t l y i n the damp cold of the high forest night. Though men w i l l on unusually severe nights sometimes warm themselves by a miniscule f i r e of s t r i p s of tree-bark, for the most part they remain i n cold and l i g h t l e s s concealment—it i s for t h i s reason that young boys are often admonished not to spend too much time i n the evenings s i t t i n g close to the family hearth, l e s t they lack the hardiness and wakefulness of the successful hunter. Some nuk are arboreal, and these require that a man eit h e r climb an adjacent tree from which to loose an arrow, or sometimes that he f e l l the tree i n which the marsupial i s nesting. Such undertakings can be r i s k y , with i n j u r y or death as the r e s u l t of a bad f a l l , but such r i s k s are part of the business of hunting. In the past there were other r i s k s as well. While today a successful hunter w i l l hang h i s marsupials from tree limbs as he k i l l s them, i n the past t h i s could only be done i n the most secure areas. Since some of the most favoured hunting areas are located far from v i l l a g e and gardens, nuk bagan was often also toaasi bagan ('enemy ground'), a sort of no-man's-land into which men ventured only at some p e r i l . In the old days men would never go into such land alone, but only with a companion. As soon as a few nuk were shot, one would make a very small f i r e on which to heat cooking stones while the other kept c a r e f u l watch for the approach of others, i n p a r t i c u l a r Falamin who were enemies and who often hunted i n the same high country east of the Sol. The instant the stones were heated, they would be thrust into the already-cleaned innards of the nuk, then bound up and c a r r i e d home as quickly as possi b l e , cooking on the way back to the s e c u r i t y of the v i l l a g e . Such danger seems to have added to the appeal of nuk hunting then, enhancing the hunters' achievement each time they brought back small game. In addition, these r i s k s gave scope to the sense of humour of Binengim, a Derolengam man who was notorious as a p r a c t i c a l joker. More than once he would go with a companion into the dark f o r e s t near Falamin t e r r i t o r y , only to shout out i n the night, "Okay now, Igimduvip [Falamin v i l l a g e ] men, come quick! I brought here a man for you to e a t — h e ' s up the slope there, get him before he gets away!". Such pranks would send h i s companion f l y i n g back to the v i l l a g e , with Binengim sauntering i n a f t e r him, laughing to himself and enjoying the whole a f f a i r hugely, a l b e i t at the expense of h i s f r i e n d . While such humour was not always appreciated, i t underscores two e s s e n t i a l features of marsupial hunting i n those days; a man put himself at r i s k whenever he went into the f o r e s t at night, and a man was dependent upon the t r u s t he placed.in h i s f r i e n d s when he did so, (See Champion 1966:173 for a s i m i l a r incident,) The fa c t that men could and did joke about such things also says something about the s p i r i t i n which T e l e f o l men approached some of the r i s k s of day-to-day l i f e . Today, men are fr e e r to go off on t h e i r own since warfare i s now a thing of the past. There are, however, r i s k s even now, for while open warfar has ceased and r e l a t i o n s with former enemies are eased there i s s t i l l the p o s s i b i l i t y of a s o l i t a r y person i n the bush being set upon by stealthy p a r t i e s of biit sorcerers, A man who i s a target f o r biit—and no man may be c e r t a i n that he i s not—must always be wary and v i g i l a n t whenever he enters the night i n search of game. Beksep of Derolengam r e l a t e s one of h i s father' experiences: Years ago, when Dagayok [Beksep's father] was helping to b u i l d the mission s t a t i o n , some men from Misinmin v i l l a g e came to him one afternoon while he was working. They said that they had seen some marsupial droppings on a track i n the forest near the creek c a l l e d Ok Din, and they suggested that he might want to t r y h i s luck at that spot f o r hunting. Dagayok was no f o o l , so he went out into the fo r e s t early that evening—he sensed something suspicious was afoot. He took some tree bark with him and l i t i t and placed i t on the track near some marsupial droppings (as a hunter might do on a cold n i g h t ) . Then he concealed himself a l i t t l e distance o f f the track i n shadows among the forest trees. There he waited with h i s Kaangat and other fighting.arrows. Soon he heard f a i n t voices from downslope, where the track dropped o f f to the stream. A l l the while he waited s i l e n t l y with drawn bow. Soon a man came creeping s t e a l t h i l y up the slope, making for the spot on the track they had thought to use for t h e i r ambush. As he crept nearer and reached for a vine for support, Dagayok sent an arrow into him—down the h i l l the man r o l l e d , Dagayok following and shouting behind him. Frightened and fearing attack by others, the men ran away and Dagayok returned to Derolengam. That night other Misinmin came, and.carried the dead man's corpse back to t h e i r v i l l a g e . The next day people heard that a Misinmin man had f a l l e n from a tree and died. The arrow with which Dagayok k i l l e d him had been replaced with a tree b r a n c h — s i n c e these men were biit, they couldn't say openly ho\*r t h i s man had died. But then Derolengam men knew for c e r t a i n that the man Dagayok shot had died. This man was the former husband of the wife of Teksep of Derolengam. Marsupials are not the only game taken by Telefolmin, though taken far more frequently than any other animals of the f o r e s t . Men hunt b i r d s f time to time, o f t e n from b l i n d s constructed on the ground or i n the treetops as the occasion demands, Some b i r d s i n T e l e f o l m i n are seasonal, and most know the p r e c i s e l o c a t i o n of f r u i t - and mit-bearing trees w i t h i n the v i c i n i t y of t h e i r v i l l a g e s , thus o u t l i n i n g the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of the appearance of c e r t a i n b i r d s known to feed on them. In a d d i t i o n , most men are able to simulate b i r d -c a l l s , which are o c c a s i o n a l l y e f f e c t i v e enough to l u r e a b i r d w i t h i n bowshot. Despite t h i s , T e l e f o l arrows (being unfletched) are not n e a r l y as accurate as they are elegant, and many more shots miss than s t r i k e the mark. L i k e nuk, b i r d s (uun) are not the things of men, but are looked a f t e r by s p i r i t beings, women known as uununang ('bird woman'). Of a l l the b i r d s present i n T e l e f o l m i n , one i n p a r t i c u l a r stands a p a r t — k u m s o p , the mountain cassowary. These l a r g e , f l i g h t l e s s and s w i f t b i r d s of the deep f o r e s t ( a k i n to the A u s t r a l i a n emu) are both p r i z e d and extremely d i f f i c u l t to bag. Often, they are only v i s i b l e to the hunter as l a r g e f l e e t i n g shadows. Though dogs may sometimes give chase, i t i s r a r e that they b r i n g cassowaries at bay, and i f they should succeed the dogs r i s k disembowelment (as do hunters a t c l o s e range) by powerful k i c k s of the cassowary's claw-tipped l e g s . Because of t h i s , cassowaries are not o f t e n k i l l e d , and when they are i t i s u s u a l l y by means of nooses and snares s t r a t e g i c a l l y placed i n runs d i s p l a y i n g f r e s h t r a c k s . Cassowaries are s p e c i a l i n other terms too, f o r Te l e f o l m i n t e l l t a l e s of women who, unhappy and d i s g r u n t l e d w i t h t h e i r husbands, run o f f i n t o the bush and become transformed i n t o cassowaries, e l u s i v e and s o l i t a r y wanderers of the deep bush. Though men doubt whether t h i s happens any more among the T e l e f o l m i n , they do know that i t i s p o s s i b l e f o r Atbalmin and Fegolmin to transform themselves i n t o cassowaries, and women who become such changelings can be e s p e c i a l l y dangerous: There was once a boy who was orphaned, both of h i s parents d i e d . He went down to Fegolmin country, where he stayed w i t h . h i s mother's brother (moom), who looked a f t e r him. One day t h i s man's w i f e s a i d to him, " l e t ' s k i l l t h i s l i t t l e c h i l d and eat him". But her husband didn't l i k e t h i s and said, "I don't want to k i l l my c h i l d ^ i f you want to eat him, you must k i l l him''', The man and h i s orphaned nephew went into the bush and made a cassowary noose. They l e f t i t for some t i m e — maybe a week or so-.—and then returned to check i t , When they came up, they saw a cassowary i n the noose. The man t o l d the c h i l d , "you go untie t h i s cassowary". But the boy answered, "no, you do i t - - i t wouldn't be good' i f your usong made me s i c k " , [The boy r e f e r s here to a man's, 'guardian s p i r i t ' , who may j e a l o u s l y guard his belongings against others.] The two argued about t h i s f o r a while, and then the boy's uncle took the cassowary and c a r r i e d i t back to the v i l l a g e . The man t o l d the boy to remove the cassowary's feathers while he went to fetch some taro and firewood. Then the man l e f t . The boy was removing the cassowary's feathers, and then came to the anus of the cassowary and saw a woman's vagina and pubic h a i r . This he stroked, and the cassowary woman began to giggle. The boy jumped up and grabbed a stone adze and struck the head of the cassowary. Then he flew back to Telefolmin. As he ran, he heard the woman berating her husband, "I'm a woman, I can't k i l l a man ;—you're a man, you must k i l l men—I t r i e d to, and he h i t me!". Though most cassowaries are no more than they appear to be, there i s always the danger that they are women transformed and bent on k i l l i n g . For t h i s reason some men take the precaution of t i c k l i n g a cassowary's bottom, j u s t to be sure. One of the le s s common game v a r i e t i e s i n Telefolmin i s neither nuk nor uun, but l i e s somewhere i n betxreen: soman (or sagam), mountain f r u i t bats or f l y i n g foxes. Soman usually inhabit limestone caves high up i n the mountain w a l l during the day, being garden-raiders ( e s p e c i a l l y fond of bananas) at night. One p a r t i c u l a r l y well-known roost of these bats i s . Samantem ('flying-fox cave'), located i n the mountains east of the Sol and not fa r from I f a a l t i g i n . Here men w i l l every few years go during the day and scale the c l i f f - f a c e on a lattice-work of ladders u n t i l they reach the cave entrance. After blocking the cave entrance, i t i s r e l a t i v e l y easy to go ins i d e and to club the bats as they t r y to f l e e , Occasionally, however, men 80 who go o f f on t h e i r own i n caves to f i n d these hats f i n d other things besides: One night a woman from Kubrenmin J v i l l a g e J was out searching f o r frogs and following a small stream, the Ok Balam, that flows into the Ok Sol, I t had been ra i n i n g a l l night, and i t . cleared s l i g h t l y j u s t before dawn. The woman looked up and saw many soman enter a cave high up i n the mountain. She made a f i r e , and then the sun came up and she headed f or home. When she got back to the v i l l a g e , she t o l d her brother what she had seen—normally, she would have t o l d her husband, but he had gone o f f to Fegolmin to trade. When she tol d her brother about the bats they decided that i t would be good to go to k i l l and eat them. She and her brother and the rest of the v i l l a g e r s made t h e i r way to the cave and then blocked the entrance with wood and leaves. Then they went i n s i d e and k i l l e d the soman, f i l l i n g t h e i r netbags with them as though they were harvesting taro. The party then returned to the v i l l a g e , each man carrying several netbags f u l l of bats, and they made a f i r e and started heating stones for a feast. When the soman were cooked, however, the men didn't even give the woman a whole soman to h e r s e l f , and instead merely gave her a few pieces, nothing more. Affronted, she didn't eat these, but instead tucked them away i n one of her netbags to show her husband when he returned. When he f i n a l l y got back, she showed him how poorly she had been treated, though she was the one who had led the v i l l a g e r s to the cave i n the f i r s t place. Feeling sorry f o r h i s wife, the husband gathered up several netbags and set o f f for the.cave. When he reached the entrance, he went inside and followed the passage deep into the mountain. As he went, he began to notice that i t was no longer dark i n s i d e — o n and on he went, and he saw the sun shining and was soon walking i n the bush, with many gardens. These were the gardens of the soman, and there was much taro, sugar cane, and greens. He came to one of these gardens and cut and ate some sugar. After he had done t h i s he climbed a nearby tree and from there looked out and saw a man and a woman who had mourning clay on t h e i r faces. These two came up to.the garden and, n o t i c i n g the cut cane, wondered who had been eating i t . Then they looked up and saw the man i n the t r e e — t h e y t o l d him of the men who had come and k i l l e d t h e i r r e l a t i v e s , and warned him that these men might come to k i l l him too, saying that he would be safe i f he stayed with them. Having said t h i s , the man and the woman went back to t h e i r village--^when they returned, they were accompanied by t h e i r fellow v i l l a g e r s , and they a l l set upon t h i s man and k i l l e d him. When he was dead, they ate him, leaving only h i s skin i n t a c t . Then they gave him a banana sucker and a s t a l k of sugar cane—the banana was $uum kalom, the sugar kwet sangaatum. After they had done t h i s , they t o l d him to take these back home with him, where he would go to die. The man returned home, and when he arrived he t o l d h i s wife that he had gone deep into the cave because the other men of the v i l l a g e had given her so l i t t l e . He gave her the banana and sugar, t o l d her how they should be planted, and then said that he was going to die. The following morning he was dead. The people that the man had seen under the ground were the soman, but they were also r e a l l y saomin, otherwise known as momoyok, the s p i r i t s of those who. die v i o l e n t l y . Making t h e i r main abode i n I f a a l t i g i n , the large mountain to the east of Samantemtigin, momoyok are soman by night, when they s a l l y f o r t h to r a i d the gardens of the v i l l a g e r s i n the v a l l e y below. Soman can thus be p o t e n t i a l l y dangerous, and i f men should never venture into caves alone, t h i s i s a l l the more so i f the cave i s known to be inhabited by soman. If soman, the f r u i t bat, i s a garden raider, a far more spectacular, destructive, and dangerous garden r a i d e r i s saaman, the w i l d p i g . Like other bush creatures, saaman are not looked a f t e r by the hand of man, but are watched over instead by aanangen, dangerous s p i r i t women inhab i t i n g stones or l i v i n g underground near streams. I t i s because of saaman ..-.that., men must amake sturdy fences, which must not only be strong enough to withstand the awesome force and strength of these pigs, but must also be b u i l t high enough to prevent them from leaping over the fences. While saaman normally l i v e o ff the huge acorns of the miyaom tree or the blue f r u i t s of the igim tree, they are t r u l y the enemies of gardens—should they make t h e i r way i n s i d e , they are capable of destroying months of work and a n n i h i l a t i n g the precious st a l k s from which taro grows. Epitomized by t h e i r f l a s h i n g curved tusks, saaman are dangerous not only to gardens, but to men as w e l l . Unlike most other forest animals, saaman w i l l d i r e c t l y attack men who encounter them i n the bush,, and there are a few men who carry with them scars as permanent evidence of such encounters. Hunting saaman i s therefore a r i s k y enterprise, one which few men attempt alone. A bowman l y i n g i n wait for a boar charging down a track has time for but one shot, which i s without e f f e c t i f f i r e d head-on, The technique i s t r i c k y , once demonstrated for me by old Olmamsep, pantomiming i n his house: the hunter waits, bowstring taut— ;as the boar approaches (and saaman seem always to be boars), the hunter must i n a f l a s h step to the side, loosing h i s kaangat-.hehind and under the shoulder blade, the k i l l i n g - s p o t . Then, as the boar turns (for one shot w i l l seldom drop such a beast i n s t a n t l y ) the bowman leaps upwards to the safety of a nearby tree ( i n t h i s case afforded by the hearth-posts of Olmamsep's house). If the boar i s mortally wounded, a triumphant cry of "Kwiinama!" rings out. If not, the man t r i e s to h a i l help while fending the saaman off with hand-held arrows. Men who single-handedly k i l l saaman axe rare, though there have been some, such as old Miyaamkaalengim, "Oak-skin", whose names spread f a r from t h e i r v i l l a g e s with such accomplishments. THb.se'who do so often have s p e c i a l advantages i n t h i s . Thus, one man from Eliptaman succeeded because he knew the secret words that would help him to transform himself into a saaman. If any fellow v i l l a g e r s ever accompanied t h i s man into the bush to hunt wild pigs, he would c a r e f u l l y i n s t r u c t them to avoid the stret c h of bush i n which he would hunt, for fear that they might mistake him for one of t h e i r quarry and shoot him. In the guise of a saaman himself, the other wild pigs would have no fear of him and sometimes even take him to t h e i r sleeping-places, where he would then be a b l e — a f t e r transforming himself back into a man—to k i l l them with ease. His success, however, proved h i s undoing, for h i s fellow v i l l a g e r s became jealous and angry a f t e r he had on h i s own wiped out most of the saaman i n the v i c i n i t y , and they had him k i l l e d with biit sorcery, Though Atbalmin are p a r t i c u l a r l y adept at transforming themselves into saaman—so they can avoid the hard work of gardening by r a i d i n g the gardens of o t h e r s — v e r y few Telefolmin know the words necessary to turn into saaman, and those who do refuse to share or'reveal t h i s knowledge. Others have d i f f e r e n t but equally secret aids f or hunting wild pigs, Dakasim possesses the arm bones of an utuummin, Utuummin are t i n y people, perhaps waist-high or so, who l i v e d i n Ifitaman i n the distant past, before Afek came and b u i l t T e l e f o l i p . L i v i n g e x c l u s i v e l y by hunting and making no gardens, utuummin are now only r a r e l y seen, and then only i n dis t a n t bush. Dakasim's bones were a g i f t from Binengim, h i s father, who once encountered two utuum men and an utuum woman near the upper Sol. These Binengim k i l l e d , . a n d then took t h e i r bones so that they might help him i n hunting. Now, when Dakasim goes a f t e r wild pigs, whom the utuummin. are p a r t i c u l a r l y adept at hunting, he rubs some pig-grease on these bones and c a r r i e s them i n his small netbag into the f o r e s t . If there are any saaman i n the v i c i n i t y , he f e e l s an i t c h i n g or a nudge on one of h i s shoulder blades, to the l e f t or to the r i g h t , i n d i c a t i n g i n which d i r e c t i o n the saaman may be found. For the most part, Telefolmin only hunt saaman i n groups ranging from three or four men to perhaps a score or more. I f saaman have been p e r s i s t e n t l y attacking v i l l a g e r s ' gardens, c o l l e c t i v e hunts may be organized to k i l l them off and push them deeper into the bush and away from the taro. This was more common i n the past than i t i s today, for shotguns have k i l l e d or driven o f f many of the saaman i n areas frequented by man. There are, however, a number of contexts i n which saaman must be k i l l e d , and long-range expeditions three or more days' walk away may be mounted for t h i s purpose, which i n the past some-times served as a prelude to warfare. Two of the favoured areas exploited by Ifitaman v i l l a g e r s are the v a l l e y of the Sepik below i t s junction with the E l i p (Tekindiim), and the v a l l e y of the upper Strickland (Ombal). In the past such expeditions ran the r i s k of encountering enemies also i n search of game, the Miyanmin i n Tekindiim and Dulanmin, Falamin, or Oksapmin i n Ombal. Today t h i s i s no problem (though Dulanmin seem to resent T e l e f o l hunting i n the Om), and now men take care to avoid the settlements of f r i e n d l y v i l l a g e s ( p a r t i c u l a r l y i n Eliptaman), l e s t they be forced to share out most of t h e i r bag before returning home. When men have k i l l e d saaman and return to t h e i r v i l l a g e s with netbags bulging with smoked meat, t h e i r approach i s s i g n a l l e d by the hauntingly b e a u t i f u l and almost somber chorus of the saowan^killing song, the same song sung when men returned from su c c e s s f u l l y k i l l i n g the enemy. Dancing, .inodbuble formation as they approach, the men enter the v i l l a g e , taking the smoked meat into the men's house (yolam), where i t i s d i s t r i b u t e d to a l l the f u l l y i n i t i a t e d men present. I t i s a time f o r r e j o i c i n g , even f o r women and chi l d r e n , who may not eat saaman, for the fence-breakers and garden-destroyers have been k i l l e d . i i i . V i l l a g e and Bush Tending t h e i r gardens and k i l l i n g game are the means by which Telefolmin sustain themselves, and a f f i r m t h e i r i d e n t i t i e s , and the rhythm of th e i r l i v e s i s played out i n pulses of movement from v i l l a g e to bush and back again. Telefolmin give the impression of being c o n t i n u a l l y on the move, and i f not working i n t h e i r gardens or searching f o r game, they seem always to be on t h e i r way to the bush to do so or returning to the v i l l a g e afterwards. The narrow mountain tracks i n the mornings witness the passing of small groups of men, women and ch i l d r e n carrying axes, bows and arrows, bundles of taro s t a l k s ; i n the evenings, f a m i l i e s can be seen making t h e i r way home laden with f r e s h l y harvested taro, precariously balanced stacks of firewood, and planting material for the following day. V i l l a g e and bush thus provide poles between which l i f e ' s movement alternates. "This i s n ' t the bush now, i t ' s the v i l l a g e — h e r e ' s taro, here's tobacco, here's sugar cane, here are bananas!" — a n Agamtevip man's greeting 85 Ever since Afek f i r s t b u i l t the ancestral v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p and brought the Telefolmin as a people into being, Telefolmin haye always l i v e d i n v i l l a g e s , or abiip. Permanent i n theory and l a r g e l y i n p r a c t i c e , the T e l e f o l abiip o f f e r s a sharp contrast with sep, the bush; v i l l a g e s are creations, established by the hand of man, while the bush e x i s t s sui generis, .apart from and i n d i f f e r e n t to man's concerns (though the context for h i s p r o j e c t s ) ; the v i l l a g e i s the home of man and of the animals (domestic pigs, dogs) he looks a f t e r , while the bush i s the abode of a l l the wild game and of the s p i r i t -beings who look a f t e r them; f i n a l l y , the v i l l a g e i s community, a place where people are together with t h e i r fellows, while the bush i s for the most part a place where strangers and sometimes strangeness are encountered. For t h i s and fo r other reasons, the abiip i s r a d i c a l l y distinguished from sep i n T e l e f o l thought. I t i s thus no surprise that abiip. also means 'clea r i n g ' , a v i r t u a l negation of the bush with i t s profusion of f o r e s t and undergrowth, and T e l e f o l men, women and c h i l d r e n l i t e r a l i z e t h i s contrast i n a quiet but p a r t i c u l a r l y v i s i b l e way: the abiip-mat ('village b e l l y ' ) i s the c e n t r a l plaza around which a l l the houses of the v i l l a g e are arranged, and the abiip-mat i s kept scrupulously c l e a r of even the smallest weeds and grasses. Any vegetation that makes i t s appearance i n the abiip-mat i s summarily uprooted the instant i t i s noticed by the v i l l a g e r s . The abiip-mat, towards which the doorways of a l l the v i l l a g e houses face, thus presents a clear white a s p e c t — d a z z l i n g on sunny d a y s — o f scraped clay devoid of the green of the f o r e s t , and the boundary between abiip and sep i s c l e a r l y marked by the margins j u s t beyond the backs of the houses where grass once again grows. Unlike the dark and shadowy world of the bush, the v i l l a g e c l e a r i n g i s a place of l i g h t and s e c u r i t y where things are i n the open and may be c l e a r l y seen, Some of these associations of the abiip-mat are enacted and amplified by the fa c t that i t i s the arena of public l i f e i n Telefolmin. In f i n e weather, t h i s i s where those who have remained i n t h e . v i l l a g e s i t chatting and sunning themselves i n small c l u s t e r s of s o c i a b i l i t y . I f a feast i s being held or domestic pigs are being k i l l e d , the abiip-mat affords the s e t t i n g . I f an evening dance (atopl) i s i n progress, men sing t h e i r songs, s t r i k e t h e i r drums, kick up t h e i r heels and show them-selves i n the broad, open space of the abiip-mat by the l i g h t of bonfires set around the edges. This i s the place of f e s t i v i t y , where l i f e i s c a r r i e d on i n the midst of one's fellows, where t h e i r presence i s most immediate, the stage upon which r e l a t i o n s with others are enacted and spotlighted. The v i l l a g e i n Telefolmin acquires some of the aspects of an oasis i n the vastness of the bush, an oasis which i s 'home'. This i s a place of h o s p i t a l i t y , where one eats with friends and where food may be had for the asking, though asking i s not often required. Upon entering a v i l l a g e a f t e r several hours' walk through the forest I would always be offered food, and the remark of the Agamtevip man assuring food to be had i n the v i l l a g e i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c , epitomizing the v i l l a g e as the locus of the pri z e d T e l e f o l v i r t u e of warm and open-handed h o s p i t a l i t y . The giving and sharing of food i n Telefolmin i s perhaps the chief idiom of relatedness, the means by which people's thought and concern f o r others may be ac t u a l i z e d , given shape, and made manifest. I f I were embarking from Derolengam on a journey through the bush to some other v i l l a g e , close friends would always see to i t that I had some cold cooked taro, bananas, and perhaps some tobacco before I set o f f . These small g i f t s were r a r e l y accompanied with words, speaking for themselves, but o c c a s i o n a l l y someone would remark that i t would not be good i f I died or grew weak from hunger along the track. And though there are only a handful of apocryphal t a l e s of such things a c t u a l l y happening, the messsage i s nonetheless c l e a r : i f the bush i s at times a place of uncertainty, the v i l l a g e i s the font and touchstone of security and well-being. I f the notion of 'Society' i s f o r Westerners sometimes vague and abstract, for Telefolmin Society takes a d e f i n i t e , immediate, and well-known shape i n the concrete form of the v i l l a g e . 87 As a place of amity, there i s l i t t l e room i n the v i l l a g e f o r the a n t i - s o c i a l . I d e o l o g i c a l l y , the v i l l a g e i s the focus f o r p o s i t i v e l y valued notions of s e c u r i t y , s o l i d a r i t y , and people i n community. V i l l a g e r s should not speak sharply or harshly to one another and ought, i d e a l l y , to support one another i n t h e i r dealings with outsiders. Very r a r e l y d i f f e r e n c e s within the v i l l a g e r i s e to the surface and tempers f l a r e . But i f t h i s happens violence should be l i m i t e d to f i g h t i n g with s t i c k s or with the f l a t side of biyal-sinams, long and f l a t hardwood f i g h t i n g clubs. The use of bow and arrow— appropriate to wild game or enemies—is s p e c i f i c a l l y prohibited, and f i g h t i n g must cease i f blood i s drawn. In the days of warfare, the v i l l a g e was always the one place where people could sleep with r e l a t i v e freedom from fear of ambush or attack. Greybeards who saw f i g h t i n g appreciate t h i s more acutely than others, and they stress that any enemy would be reluctant to attack a large and well-ordered v i l l a g e , f or such v i l l a g e s are i n d i c a t i o n s of strength and unity. While men and women r a r e l y venture into the bush alone for fear of the biit sorcerers that the f o r e s t may harbour, the v i l l a g e i s a place where biit sorcerers are unable to carry on t h e i r nefarious a c t i v i t i e s , for i n the v i l l a g e one i s surrounded by neighbours and k i n . And since biit sorcery requires secrecy to be e f f e c t i v e , i t i s i n any event impossible i n the v i l l a g e , the public place par excellence of T e l e f o l l i f e . The s e c u r i t y of the v i l l a g e i s also exemplied i n i t s permanence. Many of the v i l l a g e - s i t e s i n Ifitaman have a number of t a l l and graceful hoop-pines (Araucaria spp., at deli) towering above them and s i g n a l l i n g the presence of the v i l l a g e even at a distance. Most of these trees were planted by men of the past whose names are r e c a l l e d , and such t r e e s — t a l l e r than any f o r e s t g i a n t s — s t a n d i n witness of these men's l i v e s and i n testimony to the v i l l a g e ' s s u r v i v a l of past v i c i s s i t u d e s to the present day. Telefolmin take these as evidence of t h e i r a b i l i t y to withstand t h e i r foes, and men w i l l often a t t r i b u t e the remarkable success of Telefolmin i n warfare to t h e i r a b i l i t y to maintain r e l a t i v e l y large and enduring v i l l a g e s . Here, as i n so many other instances, they contrast themselves with the neighbouring Atbalmin people. The Atbalmin, who suffered greatly from the attacks of the Miyanmin, have no v i l l a g e s on eith e r a permanent or temporary basis. Instead, they l i v e i n widely scattered households and small hamlets i n the bush. In T e l e f o l eyes, the Atbalmin—who have the a b i l i t y to transform themselves into wild animals-—are hardly men because they make no v i l l a g e s - — " t h e y j u s t make camps i n the bush and roam around l i k e wild pigs or cassowaries". It i s i n terms of the commitment to v i l l a g e s , varying from between 130 and 150 persons, that Telefolmin stake and a f f i r m some of t h e i r strongest claims to humanity: unlike the animals of the wild, or the not-quite human utuummin who inhabited Ifitaman before Afek's coming, Telefolmin are tenum afeen, 'true men', garden-makers and v i l l a g e - d w e l l e r s . And j u s t as v i l l a g e l i f e i s the sine qua non of humanity i n Telefolmin, so the presence of a yolam, a house reserved for both men and s p i r i t s of former v i l l a g e r s (usong), i s the sine qua non of a true v i l l a g e , d i s t i n g u i s h i n g i t from the ephemeral and more or l e s s haphazard c o l l e c t i o n s of houses that sometimes emerge around gardens i n the bush. Marked o f f and set apart from the remainder of the v i l l a g e by a l i v i n g fence of red t i plants (Cordyline sp., tobaa), the yolam i s forbidden to women and ch i l d r e n . I t i s from the yolam that the usong keep watch over the family houses of the v i l l a g e , and i t i s i n the yolam that men focus upon t h e i r a c t i v i t i e s i n r i t e s upon which the welfare of the v i l l a g e depends. In both organizational and cosmological senses, the yolam serves as the anchoring-point for the v i l l a g e , the fir m centre around which the rest i s b u i l t . Men i n everyday contexts are preoccupied with the business of managing households and the a f f a i r s touching upon t h e i r wives and ch i l d r e n , but i n the yolam the men of the v i l l a g e achieve c o l l e c t i v e i d e n t i t y as a r i t u a l congregation, transcending t h e i r several and separate i d e n t i t i e s as family heads. I f the a c t i v i t i e s of gardening and v i l l a g e membership speak for humanity generally i n Telefolmin, i t i s with h i s admission to the world of the yolam i n a complex se r i e s of graded i n i t i a t i o n s that a hoy becomes a youth and that a youth becomes a man. If men become t r u l y so with t h e i r admission to the yolam, both men and women enter l i f e i n a house of a very d i f f e r e n t sort, the dungam. Situated behind and outside the closed oval of inward-facing dwelling-houses, the dungam i s already on the margins of the bush, l y i n g a s t r i d e the seam between abiip and sep. Here, i n an uncleared area surrounded by grass and often on the edge of the f o r e s t , women come to give b i r t h or to seclude them-selves during t h e i r menses. The dungam i s , as Telefolmin say, the path by which a l l men enter the world, and i t i s for t h i s reason that i n the days of warfare an e n t i r e enemy v i l l a g e — y o l a m and.all^-might be razed to the. ground, yet the dungam remaining standing. As the yolam i s forbidden (amem) to women and c h i l d r e n , so the dungam i s forbidden to men. With the dungam we leave the l a s t and most peri p h e r a l of v i l l a g e houses, passing once again to the bush. "The bush i s not r e a l l y ours, but belongs to Bagan Kayaak." —Dakasim Bagan Kayaak, the 'ground person' or 'owner of the ground' i s a ubiquitous bush s p i r i t , and i f the v i l l a g e i s the domain of men, part of the legacy Afek l e f t the Telefolmin to arrange t h e i r ways, the bush i s s t i l l pre-eminently the domain of another, another who i s not and never was a man. And as Bagan Kayaak i s both other and l a r g e l y unknown, so the bush has much of th i s character for the Telefolmin. I t i s d i f f i c u l t to convey a sense of how Telefolmin r e l a t e to the bush, for though the bush i s indeed a place where man's hegemony no longer holds, i t i s not quite correct to say that Telefolmin are i l l at ease i n the bush. Certa i n l y they f e e l more at home i n t h e i r mountain fo r e s t s than do policemen or other c i v i l servants from other parts of the country: coastal men complain unremittingly (as I did) of the exhausting climbs along steep tracks i n these high elevations; Highlanders from the broad grassland v a l l e y s east of the St r i c k l a n d bemoan the dark and tangled muddy paths, which are a l i e n to t h e i r home experience. By contrast, Telefolmin of both sexes and a l l ages seem to move l i g h t l y , e f f o r t l e s s l y , and t i r e l e s s l y through the bush, more often than not heavily laden with burdens of taro or planting stock. Though others may f e e l as babes i n the woods, Telefolmin show themselves to be excellent masters of bushcraft. From the time they are c h i l d r e n , they acquire the knowledge and s k i l l s that equip them to deal not only with the day-to-day a c t i v i t i e s of gardening and hunting, but with out-of-the-ordinary exigencies as well, Being expert trackers, T e l e f o l men r a r e l y get l o s t , but should they do so, they have well-established methods for f i n d i n g t h e i r way out again. Though nobody i s quite c e r t a i n when the l a s t famine took place, a l l are aware of a large number of v a r i e t i e s of forage foods to be found i n the bush—today these are almost never eaten, but people say that should gardens f a i l , they may resort to such famine foods. For my own part, I was always mystified by how matches could be kept dry i n f o r e s t downpours, but Telefolmin have l i t t l e d i f f i c u l t y i n b u i l d i n g roaring f i r e s i n the midst of heavy showers, despite the t o t a l absence of dry wood. In short, Telefolmin display remarkable s k i l l and competence i n the f o r e s t . But, having said t h i s , i t i s also necessary to add again that the bush i s not man's preserve: i t holds dangers,: some of which are known, and others of which may only be .. . . guessed at. Things happen to men i n the bush i n strange and sometimes unexpected ways. Despite t h e i r expert knowledge of the t e r r a i n , some men are l o s t . Some have disappeared altogether, others emerge a f t e r a few days with l i t t l e r e c o l l e c t i o n of t h e i r absence, While v i l l a g e r s often suspect that such absences might be d e l i b e r a t e l y fabricated (see Jones 1976), i n other cases a genuine mystery a r i s e s , one which remains an enigma. Sometimes hunters alone i n the forest at night see things, such as l i g h t s s i l e n t l y hovering over the 91 v a l l e y . Perhaps, some speculate, these are ghosts, bagel, or the souls of those s l a i n with bloodshed, momoyok^-but such things are uncertain, and the conclusions remain speculation. The bush' i s pre-eminently the s e t t i n g f o r those events that remind men of an unseen dimension' ( c f . Wagner 1967; S c h i e f f e l i n 1976) impinging on t h e i r world: i t i s almost always impossible to see more than a few yards i n the bush, and while men can deal with that which i s v i s i b l e and known, presences beyond the shadows evoke fears and u n c e r t a i n t i e s . Whistles i n the darkness may only be b i r d s , but they may also be bagel or momoyok. In days a l l too v i v i d i n the memories of many, each t r a c k — p a r t i c u l a r l y at some remove from the v i l l a g e - — b o r e the threat of enemy ambush. I t i s for t h i s reason that, even today, men almost always precede women and c h i l d r e n on f o r e s t t r a c t s , and i n the past couples were c a r e f u l not to have more than one toddler at a time, l e s t a second overburden h i s parents i n f l i g h t from attackers. While today t h i s i s a l l part of the past, biit sorcery goes on.unabated, the s i l e n t bands of sorcerers assaulting lone and unwary t r a v e l l e r s i n the'forest. Because biit depends upon secrecy—and hence the lack of w i t n e s s e s — f o r success, i t i s rare for any except armed hunters to venture out into the f o r e s t alone; because of the p o s s i b i l i t y of biit, I was a f t e r a few months' residence always assigned a companion whenever I went into the bush, though the companion may have been no more than a youngish c h i l d . Because of such dangers and u n c e r t a i n t i e s , Telefolmin have a custom whereby t r a v e l l e r s i n the bush c a l l out "kabo wanta ya.1" ('who are you?') loudly three times i f any suspicious sounds are heard. Men—or s p i r i t b e i n g s — who f a i l to i d e n t i f y themselves a f t e r the question i s posed the t h i r d time run the r i s k of being shot on sight: A man from Falamtigin [ v i l l a g e ] noted for h i s fearlessness when faced with bagel was hunting for marsupials one night recently i n Nongkaman, He was waiting and q u i e t l y watching by a run f o r marsupials and heard some r u s t l i n g i n the undergrowth. Soon he heard the sound of approaching voices 92 He h i d himself, and when the noise got closer he switched on h i s torch and saw some men coming h i s way* He asked them three times who they were,.but they remained s i l e n t and the f i r s t man i n l i n e averted h i s face, : This one kept approaching, and the hunter shot him i n the ear with a b l a s t from the shotgun he was using, and the man collapsed at h i s fe e t , dead. While the hunter was t r y i n g to reload, h i s torch went dead—as often happens i n such encounters—and one of the other bagel grabbed the b a r r e l of the gun and t r i e d to p u l l i t away from him. The two struggled and eventually the hunter ran off with h i s dead torch, leaving the shotgun behind. As soon as he got a l i t t l e distance away from the scene of the encounter, h i s torch worked again and he returned to c o l l e c t the gun. When he got there h i s shotgun was l y i n g on the ground, but there was no sign of the party of bagel. Seizing the gun, he returned back over the mountains, singing out as he came. Aft e r daybreak, he and some other v i l l a g e r s returned to t h i s spot. They saw blood and many tracks, but the tracks led nowhere and petered o u t — n o r was i t possible to t e l l where they began.... Yet other.strange and..possibly dangerous encounters take place i n the bush: When he was a young man, before the Europeans came, old Kwiyolim had gone hunting for marsupials high i n the bush not f a r from I f a a l t i g i n , He had tracked one marsupial to a hole i n a tree and sat down to wait for i t j u s t before dawn. Aft e r a while he nodded off and then opened h i s eyes again with a s t a r t — e v e r y t h i n g was red, the colour of blood. He looked up and saw a p i l e of boxes as t a l l as a tree, and on top of them a l l sat a l i t t l e man. Kwiyolim r e a l i z e d that t h i s must have been Bagan Kayaak i n some guise or another, and he began to c a l l , some of Bagan Kayaak's secret names so the l a t t e r would know Kwiyolim r e a l i z e d he was being t r i c k e d or deceived. Kwiyolim c a l l e d out the names he knew and then ran home to the v i l l a g e . Nobody knew what t h i s meant, though when the Europeans l a t e r came they knew that what Kwiyolim saw had been a portent of t h i s . Though such encounters are most l i k e l y when men venture alone into the bush, t h i s i s not always the case. About a generation or so ago, cassava (tobaabu) was introduced into Telefolmin i n the following way: A party of four men from B i i l t e v i p [ in Eliptaman] had gone down into the low hot country of the Ok Om to hunt wild pigs. Having no luck i n t h e i r usual hunting grounds, they crossed over some mountains and descended into another low-lying r i v e r v a l l e y . This was terra incognita, and no Telefolmin had gone here before. They made a camp i n the bush and had some success i n the hunt. One day they followed a t r i b u t a r y stream and came upon what was obviously a garden c l e a r i n g . In t h i s garden they saw many of the usual crops, but they also saw something planted that looked l i k e small trees. They dug some of these up and found that they had large tubers, so they took some of these and some other produce back to th e i r camp with them. In the evening they sat round the f i r e , cooked, and ate. Suddenly, one of the men was transfixed with an arrow, and another f e l l an instant a f t e r . The two survivors quickly dashed i n the shadows, where they heard a woman singing a v i c t o r y song i n the depths of the fo r e s t . Armed and a l e r t , these two gave swift and s i l e n t chase. Further down on a dimly l i t track they saw t h e i r a s s a i l a n t , a t a l l woman carrying a bow and arrow and wearing a white p u b i c - s h e l l instead of a s k i r t . Each man took aim, but the woman turned around and darted behind trees, evading t h e i r arrows while shooting her own. Back and f o r t h they skirmished, soon running short of arrows. One of the men had exhausted h i s supply, and with a cry the woman f e l l upon him and k i l l e d him. Taking up her song again, she made to go when the l a s t man f i r e d an arrow that struck home, and then loosed the remainder into the body of t h i s woman. He examined the body and then removed the pubic s h e l l and saw, sure enough that she was a woman. Then he returned to camp, took up planting stock for.the tobaabu and some of the smoked pig, and set o f f that night for home. Since t h i s time Telefolmin have had cassava to supplement t h e i r crop inventory, and since t h i s time Telefolmin have avoided t h i s v a l l e y , for the woman who k i l l e d these men was a kundunang, Kundunang are amazons who l i v e i n the deepest reaches of the bush, are extremely dangerous—indeed, t h i s man was lucky to return a l i v e — a n d are objects of fear and loathing i n Telefolmin. Kundunang hunt and are cannibals, and l i v e t h e i r l i v e s e n t i r e l y without men. Instead of having men for husbands, kundunang mate with male wild dogs, dunkiil, who are likewise feared and avoided. When kundunang give b i r t h , i t i s to four d i f f e r e n t kinds .of c h i l d r e n : (a) male dogs; (b) female dogs; (c) male humans; (d) female humans. Wishing to have neither female dogs nor baby 2 boys, kundunang k i l l these and, with t h e i r dog husbands, eat them. Thus the regime continues of these wild women and t h e i r dog husbands. Being on the extreme margins of the T e l e f o l cosmos, men r a r e l y encounter them and go out of th e i r way not to do so. But there are occasional reminders of t h e i r presence, and i n 1974 i t was rumoured that a plane with Europeans aboard had crashed i n the land of the kundunang. Men suspected that the administration would mount a p a t r o l into t h i s area, either to rescue the Europeans i f they survived, or to k i l l the kundunang i f they had not. Though for unknown reasons t h i s p a t r o l was never mounted—at le a s t not from Telefolmin—many men were eager to j o i n t h i s , t r u s t i n g i n the e f f i c a c y of p o l i c e r i f l e s and looking forward to the opportunity of k i l l i n g the kundunang-or;seizing:them as: wives. Encounters such as these seem most often to happen to men, who range deeper into the bush than women, and who are more l i k e l y to go into the bush alone or at night, when such encounters seem to occur. But that t h i s i s not exc l u s i v e l y the case i s hinted at i n utuum sang shared by f a m i l i e s around an 3 evening's f i r e . Though utuwn sang are not to be taken as l i t e r a l l y true, they nonetheless often deal with themes not f a r removed from experience, and the following t a l e represents a woman's encounter with a bagel: Once a f i n e night came when there was no r a i n and the clouds l e f t the sky, and a l l the men went to the bush to hunt marsupials and the women went to f i n d frogs. Some others got taro from a large garden and went back to the v i l l a g e . A widow and her daughter had also been out looking f o r frogs and then began to make t h e i r way back to the v i l l a g e . While the two of them walked along, a bagel boy was watching and waiting f o r them. He waited atop a tree trunk that had f a l l e n across a narrow ravine, into which the track descended. The mother came and the daughter followed, and as the daughter passed under the f a l l e n tree the bagel boy jumped down on top of her, h i s two legs p i e r c i n g her body on either side and j u s t behind the c o l l a r bone. The g i r l was nearly k i l l e d , and her mother beat the ghost-boy i n an e f f o r t to get him to remove h i s legs from her body, but to no a v a i l . The bagel boy remained on the g i r l ' s back, h i s legs f i r m l y embedded i n her f l e s h . The g i r l walked about, carrying him wherever she went. Perched upon her back, he would defecate on her, but he would also carry firewood, and would show the g i r l and her mother where to f i n d frogs at night. A while l a t e r another night came l i k e the f i r s t one, when there was no r a i n nor any clouds i n the sky. Again the men went to hunt marsupials, and again the women went to f i n d frogs. The widow, her daughter, and the bagel boy went as we l l , and soon came to a stream where they l i t a f i r e and made t h e i r torches with which to f i n d frogs. C a l l i n g the old woman "mother", the bagel boy said , "there are some frogs, l e t ' s go and get them there'.'. They got the frogs'and ate, giving some to the bagel boy. . Then the mother decided, to t r y her luck upstream, and the g i r l and the bagel went to a w a t e r f a l l . The bagel boy said he saw many frogs there, and urged 95 the g i r l to go down .to get them. She looked down, and then said, "ee! the way down i s very s t e e p — i t s t r i c k y and hard for me to go down with you on my i. . back,,,". So the bagel hoy withdrew hi s legs from her body so that she could go down to get the frogs. When he got o f f her, the wrench nearly destroyed her heart, and•she bent over as pus and blood issued forth, from her wounds. Then she went to the stream below, and when she found her way to the. bottom, she l e f t her torch burning by the side of the water, to deceive the bagel boy, A f t e r a while 'he c a l l e d down to her, saying, "I'm cold n o w — l e t ' s go". But while he was up there, she c i r c l e d around him from behind to approach him from the rear. She made her way s t e a l t h i l y up and kicked him from behind, tumbling him over the edge and into the water below. The g i r l l e f t the f a l l s and went to j o i n her mother,; and the two returned home. Later, some v i l l a g e r s t o l d them that they saw the body of the bagel boy i n the stream and that he was dead. Though women may be at a disadvantage when dealing with bagel, unable to take the men's tack of main force, they nonetheless are able through deception to gain the upper hand. While the kinds of encounters with strange beings are many and varied, they a l l - partake of the general nature of the bush, a green encompassing sea stretching beyond the horizon and f i l l e d with p o t e n t i a l and uncertainty. Distant and foreign places are termed asit-tem ( l i t e r a l l y , 'green/raw place') i n T e l e f o l , a usage which affords some in s i g h t into the T e l e f o l conception of the bush. Asit c a r r i e s the meaning not only of the colour green, but also of a state of not being cooked or 'done', as with improperly cooked.food. But asit i n t h i s sense can also combine the sense of 'alien'' or foreign with 'undeveloped' or 'not completed'. Such textures of meaning are active i n T e l e f o l thought. Thus, before Afek founded.the true v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p , she attempted to make another v i l l a g e named As i t e v i p (green/raw v i l l a g e ) — t h i s v i l l a g e f a i l e d because i t was premature, not properly l a i d out. This was, i n an important sense, a 'foreign' v i l l a g e , unlike the v i l l a g e . o f T e l e f o l i p from which Telefolmin take t h e i r name. Later, when we f i n d a l l u s i o n s to men 'cooking' boys' skin i n i n i t i a t i o n , we s h a l l be able to understand t h i s as part of an idiom that equates being 'done' with being f u l l y developed 96 Telefolmin, as opposed to strangers and foreigners. Conversely, strangeness— the a l i e n — i s the green and the raw, and i n s p a t i a l terms the d i s t a n t , The i n t e r p l a y of ideas here i s complex, but i t i s perhaps i n t h i s l i g h t that we may note that the colour green tends to be l a r g e l y absent from the v i l l a g e scene, the browns and greys of weathered wood and faded thatch predominating instead. Thus the simple but assiduously pursued act of plucking weeds and g r a s s e s — i n t r u s i v e b i t s of green—bespeaks not only a simple tidying-up, but a perpetuation, on a day-to-day basis, of the project of c l e a r i n g , of maintaining the abivp (both v i l l a g e and clearing) against the encroachment of the bush, and of the a l i e n , strange, and hidden. Here i t i s as though the quiet, i n d i v i d u a l l y performed but c o l l e c t i v e act of weeding were an exorcism, banishing the bush to the outside, and we may note i n passing that T e l e f o l men can gauge the tenor and v i t a l i t y of l i f e i n a p a r t i c u l a r v i l l a g e not only by the state of repair of the yolam and other houses, but also by the presence or absence of stray t u f t s of grass growing i n the v i l l a g e plaza. It i s a sorry v i l l a g e indeed that allows grass to overrun i t s plaza, though t h i s sometimes happens.' V i l l a g e and bush are true p o l a r i t i e s , not only to T e l e f o l thought, but of a c t i v i t y and experience as w e l l . The boundary between the two i s a thresh-hold beginning at the end of the v i l l a g e c l e a r i n g , a threshhold which men, women, and c h i l d r e n cross on a d a i l y basis for most of t h e i r l i v e s . i v . Friends and Enemies The days of warfare f o r Telefolmin passed—as did t h e i r autonomy— when the f i r s t administration post was established i n the l a t e 1940s, Since then the range of amicable—or at l e a s t peaceful-—relationships has expanded considerably. Men are now free to v i s i t friends i n distant v i l l a g e s without the threat of ambush or the more remote p o s s i b i l i t y of betrayal by erstwhile hosts. For some, the end of warfare allowed new friendships to.be struck, and there are men who now enjoy v i s i t i n g r e l a t i o n s h i p s with others who were enemies barely two decades ago. Despite t h i s , warfare i s of more than h i s t o r i c a l i n t e r e s t . The experiences of men and women of the senior generation carry the imprint of the days of f i g h t i n g , and though old enmities may for the present be held i n abeyance, they are r e c a l l e d r e a d i l y enough when r e l a t i o n s between v i l l a g e s become strained and troubled. The memories are rekindled i n each v i l l a g e with r e c o l l e c t i o n s of men who l o s t brothers, women who l o s t husbands, c h i l d r e n who were orphaned. Each v i l l a g e also r e c a l l s , with more frequency and ease, the names of t h e i r men who made the enemy, f e e l t h e i r arrows, who l e f t settlements i n smoking r u i n , who forced the enemy to take f l i g h t and wear the clay of mourning. I t i s i n such r e c o l l e c t i o n s that Telefolmin f i n d one of t h e i r sources of pride, for T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s have stood since the founding of T e l e f o l i p despite the attacks of t h e i r foes, and T e l e f o l men became known throughout the mountainous region of the Sepik headwaters as men to be reckoned with, valuable a l l i e s and fearsome enemies. "In the mafuum ban they give us two kinds of s t r a i g h t t a l k : to have a soft heart and .to be hot or s t i n g i n g . " —Dakasim The mafuum ban i s the fourth i n i t i a t i o n ..through which youths pass. In the mafuum ban the youths are t o l d many things, and part of what they are t o l d f a l l s into the category of weng kern, 'open/visible/revealed speech', which I tr a n s l a t e here as 'straight t a l k ' . Weng kem i s , unlike most of what the i n i t i a n d s are t o l d , public speech, and may be used on any occasion with any audience: i t s main content i s a species of e t h i c a l i n s t r u c t i o n illuminated by t a l e s with e x p l i c i t moral content. With weng kem youths are formally and c o l l e c t i v e l y t o l d of the obligations of manhood and proper conduct. These Dakasim sums up i n terms of two d i f f e r e n t ways, ways of dealing with f r i e n d s , and ways of dealing with enemies: bet bubul and atul tebesa, . To be bet bubul i s to have a' soft and gentle hearts—the heart (hubul) i s the seat of thought and emotions, and to have a soft heart i s to be s e n s i t i v e and open to others. Such a man i s always a t t e n t i v e to the demands of h i s fellows; i f somebody needs help b u i l d i n g t h e i r house;, he goes unasked; i f a neighbour's c h i l d r e n are heard crying for lack of food, he qu i e t l y makes a g i f t of taro; i f a man v i s i t s him, he o f f e r s h o s p i t a l i t y ; i f a v i l l a g e r offends him, he holds h i s tongue, and i f others are found wanting, he does not shame them; i f a youth i s to be married, he contributes what he can to the bridewealth without h e s i t a t i o n . A man who i s bet bubul speaks q u i e t l y , does not hurt others with h i s words, does not boast. As a man who meets the demands of others, he i s also c a r e f u l not to demand too much i n return; i f he has given a man a g i f t of pork or perhaps of bonang (small cowrie valuables), he does not press f or repayment—to do so would be to shame the other. I f he gives things to others, he does not think to himself, " t h i s man w i l l pay me back, that man has nothing and so I i.will give him nothing". He gives to show h i s regard f or a l l h i s k i n , fr i e n d s , and fellow v i l l a g e r s , without regard f or return. A man who behaves l i k e t h i s i s u n i v e r s a l l y l i k e d and may be known as tenum tambal, a 'good man' who has no things of~;his..iown because he i s forever giving them away to f r i e n d s . If h i s generosity i s matched by h i s labour and industry, he w i l l acquire a name f a r and wide, spreading with each act of kindness or consideration bestowed on others, a win-so tenum or man of note ('man with a name'). Instances of kindness and generosity are not hard to f i n d . T e l e f o l etiquette makes i t extremely d i f f i c u l t to deny the requests of f r i e n d s , k i n , or fellow v i l l a g e r s , and i f a man denies such a request he gives shame (fitom) to the man who asks. Such denials are not common, f o r they not only shame those who'ask, but also r e f l e c t poorly on those who refuse. In most instances, e x p l i c i t requests are uncommon, and i t i s the high point of T e l e f o l etiquette to o f f e r things or to render assistance i n a n t i c i p a t i o n of others' needs before they are expressed. While I l i v e d i n Derolengam, old Konungen, Dakasim's mother, decided that since my own mother had not accompanied me to 99 Telefolmin I would need another: I had hardly moved into the v i l l a g e before she had, a f t e r her fashion, adopted me. With few words—since I had not yet learned any T e l e f o l and she spoke no Pidgin^—she would enter the v i l l a g e at dusk a f t e r a day's work i n the gardens, bearing among her heavy load some firewood, taro and greens for me. I f . I offered to pay her for her trouble, she would giggle and turn away shyly,. I f she did accept payment, I would often as not be c a l l e d to her house the following morning where a meal of roasted taro was garnished with tinned f i s h , purchased from the mission trade store with the money I gave her. Though Telefolmin are generally sober and dour, and treat both strangers and other Telefolmin with reserve, many of my neighbours i n Derolengam were no l e s s kind. On those few nights when I had no v i s i t o r s , the aged Olmamsep would come and tap at my door, carrying firewood, tobacco, and a blanket with him. He had come, he would always explain, because nobody else was with me and I would f e e l lonely i n the house by myself. So saying, he would spread h i s blanket on the f l o o r next to the hearth, comment on my f i r e - t e n d i n g a b i l i t i e s , and s e t t l e i n for quiet and unhurried chatting t h a t — i n t e r r u p t e d by cat-naps—would continue u n t i l morning. Beksep, a:ryoung-; and respected married man, would come i n the evenings when I wasn't working to share some morsel of game with me or to serenade me with coastal songs he had learned to sing and play on h i s newly-acquired second-hand guitar. Such kindnesses are one of the commonplaces of l i f e i n Telefolmin, the small but invaluable currency of l i f e with f r i e n d s . Meeting a grand-motherly and heavily burdened f i g u r e along the track one afternoon, Dakasim lightened the old woman's load by helping himself to some sugar cane w h i l e — without a word and with no h e s i t a t i o n ^ — he divested himself of a sweatshirt I had recently brought back for him from Port Moresby. Later, I asked i f t h i s woman was a kinsman of h i s — a n anthropological habit rendered l a r g e l y i r r e v e l a n t by the fac t that most Telefolmin are i n one way or another kin-— and he of course r e p l i e d that she was. In f a c t , she was h i s father's s i s t e r ' (baaben), who had some years before married into. Kubrenmin [ v i l l a g e ] , Much, more relevant, however, was that she was a dup, or f r i e n d , of h i s . Dup are people who think of one and treat one we l l , and people of whom one thinks. While i n the nature of things most dup w i l l be k i n of one v a r i e t y or another, t h i s need not be the case, nor i s i t the case that k i n are automatically or even predominantly dup, even i f c l o s e l y r e l a t e d . The r e l a t i o n s h i p i s rather one of a h i s t o r y of a m i c a b i l i t y , of mutual regard, and innumerable favours, a r e l a t i o n achieved not by genealogical f i a t or the l e g i s l a t i o n of custom, but sustained rather by acts on both sides that cumulatively betoken f r i e n d s h i p . Thus, Dakasim gave the old woman the s h i r t not because she was his father's s i s t e r , nor because he was required to do so, He did i t rather because she had, i n company with her husband, always treated him and h i s c h i l d r e n w e l l , because he remembered t h i s , and because he f e l t sorry for the old woman who might take c h i l l on cold nights. Since T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s are by preference l a r g e l y endogamous, v i r t u a l l y a l l v i l l a g e r s are c l o s e l y related to each other, often i n more than one way. Thus, fellow v i l l a g e r s \abiip kasel) are simultaneously kinsmen (fukut-itin—'thinking people', people of whom, one should t h i n k ) , and i t i s out of t h i s general f i e l d of neighbours and r e l a t i v e s that the majority of one's friends are found. Though i d e a l l y a l l one's fellow v i l l a g e r s ought to be f r i e n d s , t h i s i s not always the case. Tensions a r i s i n g over troubles with, women, the invasions of poorly-tended domestic pigs into another's gardens, or past f a i l u r e s to come to a v i l l a g e r ' s aid w i l l a l l contribute to a c e r t a i n coolness and circumspection i n some men's dealings with others, though r a r e l y g i v i n g r i s e to open h o s t i l i t y . Whatever the shape of such r e l a t i o n s or avoidances, each.man has a network of dup within the v i l l a g e , men with whom he w i l l hunt, to whom he w i l l present larger or smaller g i f t s of pork, men whose houses he w i l l help b u i l d and who, i n turn, w i l l help him. Such men w i l l sometimes make gardens i n adjacent stretches of bush, though t h i s often depends upon the p a r t i c u l a r c o n s t e l l a t i o n of land r i g h t s i n any one area. The simplest and surest way of seeing who a man's friends are i s to see with whom he exchanges evening v i s i t s and with whom he eats. People who share meals together are almost always friends or w i l l become so. This i s underscored by the fa c t that to eat with a person i s , to a c e r t a i n extent, to accept them and to put oneself i n t h e i r power. This i s true not only to the extent that a more or le s s d i f f u s e o b l i g a t i o n to return i s incurred, but also because to share food with someone i s also to accept a much more severe r i s k , tamoon sorcery. While biit sorcery i s never ( i n theory, at least) practiced on fellow v i l l a g e r s , regardless of provocation, tamoon sorcery can be. And since tamoon sorcery i s a v a r i e t y of personal leavings sorcery, to share food with somebody i s to place the materials necessary for tamoon into t h e i r hands. Thus, when tension i s for some reason present between two men, they w i l l r a r e l y be seen eating together, for i f there i s any suspicion of bad f e e l i n g between them commensality would be foolhardy. Conversely, when men do eat together i t may be taken as an i n d i c a t i o n of t h e i r ease and t r u s t with each other. Men who eat and work together often and are dup of long standing may become blaana-blaana tenum. These are men who do blaana-blaana, men who take f r e e l y (but with consideration) from one another's possessions, who are forever ready to help without h e s i t a t i o n , men between whom innumerable small g i f t s pass without accounting. Though not formalized, such r e l a t i o n s are perhaps as binding as any i n T e l e f o l society, are extremely close and marked by f r i e n d l y comradeship and intense l o y a l t y . In short, '.-blaana-blaana tenum. are best f r i e n d s , those upon whom one can always depend. Such r e l a t i o n s are i n the nature of things not common, and there are a good many men who have no such r e l a t i o n s with others. Those who do, value such friends highly, and i t i s with such friends that men w i l l (kinship r e s t r i c t i o n s permitting) attempt to exchange s i s t e r s i n marriage or, i f already married, t r y to arrange matches between t h e i r c h i l d r e n . 102 Aside from btaana-blaana r e l a t i o n s h i p s , most men have a number of other close t i e s . One such r e l a t i o n i s that of ifatop, men whose mothers bore them at the same time. Though such men do not i n v a r i a b l y become close f r i e n d s , they are from childhood encouraged to do so, If atop are i n a vague and d i f f u s e sort of way f e l t to share the same fate s : t h e i r mothers having been i n seclusion i n the dungam at the same time provides a l i n k that endures through l i f e . While for v i r t u a l l y a l l Telefolmin i t i s possible to range others on a scale of r e l a t i v e s e n i o r i t y or j u n i o r i t y - — c a r r y i n g minute but noticeable implications of h i e r a r c h y — i f ' a t o p are l i t e r a l l y coevals between whom no such discriminations may be made, a paradigm of equality and symmetry which provides a foundation for i d e n t i f i c a t i o n between them. In f a c t , ifatop w i l l often pass through the phases of t h e i r l i v e s i n rough simultaneity: they are l i k e l y to embark upon t h e i r s e r i e s of i n i t i a t i o n s at the same time, become husbands, father c h i l d r e n , and witness the appearance of the white hair of old age together. F i n a l l y , one of the most severe blows a man can suff e r i s to l i v e to see h i s ifatop die. Should a man be predeceased by h i s ifatop, others must take care to avoid the name of the dead man. This i s p a r t l y because i n hearing h i s ifatop1s name the man w i l l be saddened or angered—to remind others of the loss of death i s generally avoided—and also because there i s a c e r t a i n sense i n which i t i s feared that to do so would hasten the surviving ifatop1 a own death. Just as men who are birth-mates are ifatop to each other, so men who have undergone i n i t i a t i o n together may also r e f e r to each other as ifatop. While t h i s t i e does not have the same p a r t i c u l a r i z i n g force that the ifatop r e l a t i o n founded upon b i r t h i n the dungam h a s — t h i s cannot be so, f o r a great number of men may be i n i t a t i o n - m a t e s ^ — i t i s nonetheless a bond which men value. And i f only a few men have "natural" ifatop as a r e s u l t of t h e i r mother's simultaneous confinement i n the dungam, every man has several ifatop based upon t h e i r j o i n t seclusion ( i n the company of male "mothers", see Chapter 4 ) i n the yolam. Here the r e l a t i o n s h i p i s not merely founded upon coincidence i n time, but also upon the fact that they are i n a metaphorical sense ^births-mates' , having been (re-)born i n i n i t i a t i o n s together. The t i e s between ifalop through i n i t i a t i o n spread f ar beyond the v i l l a g e , f o r although the preliminary i n i t i a t i o n s may be held by any v i l l a g e , the senior i n i t i a t i o n s can only be performed i n a small number of v i l l a g e s , most prominently, the v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p . As a r e s u l t , each man has a number of ifalop scattered throughout Telefolmin and even-—since some Ulapmin and Fegolmin may also come to T e l e f o l i p to be initiated--among neighbouring peoples. Such men may become f r i e n d s , and these friendships are often s i g n i f i c a n t . In 1975 I had occasion to walk with David Hyndman, who was working among the Opkeemin, to the Fegolmin v i l l a g e of Imigabip to v i s i t Barbara Jones, who was conducting her fieldwork there. Dakasim had accompanied me, p a r t l y out of c u r i o s i t y to see Imigabip, p a r t l y i n hopes of trading some tobacco for s t r i n g s of cowries (bonang), and p a r t l y to guarantee my safety among these foreigners. When we arriv e d i n Imigabip, he began chatting with the v i l l a g e r s and soon an e l d e r l y man with a grey beard and drying s h r i v e l l e d skin made h i s way over. In an instant the two of them were s i t t i n g together smiling and with tears welling i n t h e i r eyes. This ancient was, Dakasim said with a f f e c t i o n and pride, one of h i s father's ifalop, a man who had come to T e l e f o l i p f o r the mafuum ban at the same time as Binengim (now dead) had. And so they chatted, reminiscing about things the two -ifalop had done together, r e c a l l i n g t a l e s that Dakasim had not heard since he was a lad at h i s father's side. When, j u s t before our departure west into Opkeemin country, Dakasim bestowed h i s tobacco bundle on h i s father's aged f r i e n d , I asked him about h i s plans to trade for s h e l l s . I t was true, he r e p l i e d , that he would not now f i n d these things. But, he added, he f e l t sorry for the old man, and t h i s man had been one of h i s father's f r i e n d s . Here h i s father was remembered for h i s own acts of frie n d s h i p , and even i f Dakasim received nothing tangible 104 i n return, he would now f e e l free to return to Imigabip to v i s i t and h i s own son would also have the benefit of friends i n distant places, Binengim, who was a man of some i n i t i a t i v e and vigour, had had a number of ifatop through i n i t i a t i o n that became f r i e n d s . Such r e l a t i o n s h i p s — as with a l l o t h e r s — c a r r y with them not only the warmth evidenced so c l e a r l y a f t e r the years i n Imigabip: they also contain the prospect.of sorrow when death comes. One of Binengim's c l o s e s t ifatop—also a d u p — l i v e d i n the v i l l a g e of Afogavip i n Eliptaman. One day word came to Derolengam announcing that t h i s man had been k i l l e d by a party of Falamin while on a hunting t r i p i n the bush. Binengim gathered up h i s bow and arrows and some of h i s v i l l a g e f r i e n d s , and they set o f f over the mountains for Afogavip. In the evening they a r r i v e d , the dead man's father lamenting the loss of h i s ' h o r n b i l l ' (haheet), h i s beloved son. Binengim and h i s company assured the old man that the los s would not go unavenged, t e l l i n g the old man not to mourn too severely: the Falamin would pay. The dead man's body had been mutilated by the k i l l e r s , who c a r r i e d o f f a forearm to be eaten. Binengim and h i s party set off into the bush that night, and when they returned a f t e r a day or so they brought with them the severed forearm of a F a l a m i n — t a n g i b l e proof that k i l l i n g a man's friends or ifatop i s not taken l i g h t l y . Here we f i n d the other h a l f of the weng kern given to youths i n i n i t i a t i o n : atul tebesa, to become 'hot' or 'stinging'. I f the man of bet bubul i s kind i n h i s dealings with others and finds a valued place among his f r i e n d s , so too are T e l e f o l youths urged to become atul, to be strong and hard (kun-so, 'with bone') with t h e i r enemies. If the kindly good man, tenum tambat, i s widely l i k e d , the man of anger (bubul mafak, bad heart) i s a 'bad' man (tenum mafak) who may nonetheless be admired, Binengim was such a man, r e c a l l e d by h i s contemporaries as being unusually quarrelsome, and at times a bother to have around. But, as they a l l point out, he was generous to h i s friends and i n the time of f i g h t i n g the q u a l i t i e s that made him d i f f i c u l t were 105 invaluable. Quick to anger and quick to action, men such as Binengim gave enemies pause when contemplating targets for r a i d s . "They fought! Everybody fought! Their eyes were red with blood,, they neyer slept i They were l i k e wild pigs! The Europeans were a f r a i d of them! They were bad!" -—Welagim So said Welagim one evening around the hearth when I asked him about the old days before warfare was stopped. Talk about such times i s s t i l l common, and tinged with an ambivalence that hovers between r e l i e f that the bloodshed of the past i s gone and a longing f or the time when T e l e f o l men were 'hot' and feared not only by enemies, but by the newly arrived Europeans as we l l . In those days, as Welagim says, men didn't sleep. S i t t i n g together i n the yolam with the other men of the v i l l a g e , some would doze off while others remained awake. When these l a t t e r wanted to sleep, they would be c e r t a i n that another was awake, l i s t e n i n g for the sound of a s t a r t l e d p i g or whispers of nocturnal r a i d e r s beyond the c i r c l e of houses. Such men were always a l e r t , prepared to defend t h e i r v i l l a g e or to mount a r a i d on a moment's notice. Men who sleep e a s i l y and l o n g — s o i t i s said even t o d a y — w i l l not l i v e to see old age, and even today i t i s rare to see a l l the men i n the yolam on a given night deep i n sleep. Seemingly r e s t l e s s , there i s always someone s t i r r i n g , and.the men are l i k e l y - t o spend the e n t i r e night a l t e r n a t i n g between quiet chats and cat-naps. Though today men spend more time than i n the past sleeping i n t h e i r family houses (unangam) with t h e i r wives—something of which older men seem not to approve, a t t r i b u t i n g t h i s fashion to the absence of threat or the beguiling q u a l i t i e s of women—men s t i l l p refer to keep l a t e hours. I t i s for t h i s reason that instant coffee—newly introduced and s t i l l very e x p e n s i v e — i s so well appreciated: i f one drinks coffee, one i s able to stay awake longer. If t h i s i s l a r g e l y s i g n i f i c a n t now because i t enables 106 hearthside conversations to extend far into the night, i t i s s t i l l the case that men f e e l more secure when t h e i r eyes are open. If the evening conversation has exhausted the usual topics of gardening, hunting, current.events or the occasional utuum sang, the discussion i s l i k e l y to turn to a well-remembered waasi sang, 'enemy t a l e ' . One favourite Waasi sang concerns Tetumnok, the father of Binengim's father. S i t t i n g with some men i n the yolam one night, I was t o l d the t a l e : One night Tetumnok was s i t t i n g i n the yolam with a single old man, Sitkemnok ['toothless one']. The other men had gone to T e l e f o l i p for an i n i t i a t i o n , and only the txro of them remained i n the v i l l a g e . They were s i t t i n g by the f i r e t a l k i n g when the o l d man was h i t i n the eye by an arrow shot through the doorway. Quickly, Tetum broke up the f i r e s i n the hearths and darkened the house, Outside he heard the voices of Falamin men while the women i n the unangamwere crying. 'Now.we w i l l die', they were crying. Tetum y e l l e d out to the Falamin. He gave them hot t a l k :[weng atul], he said they could k i l l him but he would k i l l them too. While he was saying t h i s , he gathered h i s bow and many arrows. Some of,these arrows he shot out the doorway, but the rest of them he held. He y e l l e d at them a l l the while and they y e l l e d back at him. He looked out through a crack i n the bark l i n i n g the walls of the yolam, and he saw the Falamin men standing outside the house with t h e i r bows taut. He grabbed a naam [ c u i r a s s - l i k e body armour made of cane wickerwork] and continued y e l l i n g out at them, saying he was going to come out and k i l l them. He y e l l e d and y e l l e d l i k e t h i s , and then he said, 'now I'm coming for you!". Then he hurled the naam into the darkness outside. The Falamin were a f r a i d and they a l l shot t h e i r arrows at t h i s thing, and while they did t h i s Tetumnok dashed outside. Before the Falamin could get a second shot o f f at him he had disappeared into the t a l l grass of the swamp next to the v i l l a g e . There he c a l l e d out and c r i e d to the men of Ankevip and Falamtigin nearby that they should come to k i l l the Falamin. He did t h i s , and as he did so he crouched i n the high grass and shot h i s arrows at the Falamin. Soon the men from Ankevip and Falamtigin could be heard shouting and the Falamin became frightened and ran away. The Falamin ran away and only old Sitkemnok was k i l l e d . Of a l l t h e i r enemies, the Falamin were perhaps the most p e r s i s t e n t l y troublesome that Ifitaman v i l l a g e r s had to deal with. This was not always so. Afek o r i g i n a l l y l e f t Telefolmin with two sets of enemies: to the west, the T i f a l m i n , to the east, the Nukokmin ('nufe-mother/echidna c h i l d r e n 1 ) . The other peoples with whom Telefolmin t r a d i t i o n a l l y f o u g h t — t h e I l i g i m i n and Miyanmin to the north and the Dulanmin to the northeast'—had at the beginning of things not been enemies.. Falamin themselves were l a t e -comers, who only came into being i n Tekintaman not as independent descendants of Afek, but as the r e s u l t of the a n n i h i l a t i o n of the Nukokmin people by the Telefolmin. Unlike other peoples of the area, the Nukokmin were an a b o r i g i n a l population of Tekintaman, encountered by Afek when she f i r s t came to e s t a b l i s h T e l e f o l i p . Not being c h i l d r e n of Afek, the Nukokmin instead claimed descent from animals, stones, trees and the l i k e . And when Telefolmin held r i t u a l s at T e l e f o l i p , the Nukokmin never came to p a r t i c i p a t e . Old men say that Nukokmin and Telefolmin fought for a long while, but there were also periods of peace. Eventually, however, f i g h t i n g once more broke out, the r e s u l t being the end of the Nukokmin as a poeple. Both Nukokmin and Telefolmin maintained gardening areas i n Nongkaman, the former using the downstream portion of the v a l l e y . In the old days when gardens were made near an enemy f r o n t i e r people made t h e i r gardens together i n one large c l e a r i n g , and i n the centre of the c l e a r i n g stood an etam. Eicon were strong houses, s p e c i f i c a l l y designed f o r f i g h t i n g . In those days the women never accompanied the men for the i n i t i a l garden c l e a r i n g , and one of the f i r s t tasks the men would perform would be the construction of an elam. F i r s t s e l e c t i n g a large and strong tree, the men would clear around t h i s , leaving the tree i n t a c t . This would be the foundation of the elam, for elam were always b u i l t elevated high above the ground. At a height of around twenty feet or so the f l o o r of the elam was b u i l t around the trunk of the tree. This f l o o r was constructed i n two layers to prevent arrows from below f i n d i n g t h e i r mark, and i t was through a trap door i n t h i s f l o o r that the men would enter. The walls of the house were also made of doubles-thickness, with s l i t s and gaps here and there to allow defenders to r a i n arrows down on attackers i n the garden c l e a r i n g below. Such elam were strongholds to which large gardening p a r t i e s would r e t i r e i f threatened by enemy bowmen. Skirmishing i n Nongkaman developed between Telefolmin and Nukokmin, and eventually an eVcan-. burnt (with occupants) by the Nukokmin was repayed with a s i m i l a r razing of a Nukokmin elam by Telefolmin. Though some say that t h i s was because the Nukokmin had b e l i t t l e d T e l e f o l taro, nobody i s as c e r t a i n of how or why t h i s came about as they are that i t did take place. For some time there was another l u l l i n f i g h t i n g . In the meantime, some trouble had broken out i n the T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s of Falamtigin and Komtigin (an o l d name of Derolengam) over women. Factions from each of these v i l l a g e s set up gardening camps east of the Sol, bordering on Nukokmin t e r r i t o r y . There they b u i l t elam, and when.:the gardens matured the men b u i l t a yolam there, to which they had brought r e l i c s (men- amem)- from t h e i r former v i l l a g e s . In a short time f i g h t i n g broke out between these Telefolmin and the Nukokmin l i v i n g near the present s i t e of the Falamin v i l l a g e of Igimduvip. This began because one night some T e l e f o l women had gone out i n search of frogs and were heard singing that the Nukokmin should be k i l l e d . The Nukokmin attacked, but the new T e l e f o l settlement remained, and i n a short time the other T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s came to t h e i r aid, routing Nukokmin from each of t h e i r v i l l a g e s i n turn. Driven out of the f l o o r of Tekintaman and away from t h e i r gardens, the Nukokmin took refuge i n the high mountains to the east of the headwaters of the Ok Tekin. There they l i v e d f o r months, foraging f o r food and l i v i n g off wild pandanus. Many died of hunger, and soon they sent word to T e l e f o l i p , asking i f they could return. In reply, the Telefolmin i n v i t e d them to come down out of the mountains to an o i l pandanus feast at T e l e f o l i p . Telefolmin remembered how the Nukokmin would i n s u l t them, saying the Telefolmin had no taro and were lazy and always hungry. .They remembered t h i s when they i n v i t e d the Nukokmin to come for a feast. When the. Nukokmin arr i v e d at T e l e f o l i p , the-men were t o l d to wait i n the yolam and the women i n the various unangam. There they were to wait while t h e i r hosts prepared the 109 feast to come. Telefolmin brought great numbers of pandanus to be cooked— but i t was an i n f e r i o r v a r i e t y , barely edible. They l i n e d up numbers of the large bark dishes used for pandanus, and when these were f i l l e d with grated taro cakes and pandanus sauce, they sprinkled ash-salt (yol) over i t . But, unbeknownst to the 'guests', t h i s wasn't r e a l l y ash-salt, but the ash from discarded women's s k i r t s (unam), made from rushes. They sprinkled t h i s over the pandanus and then asked the Nukokmin to come and s i t — t h e y had surely been hungry for so long that they should eat before t h e i r hosts. The Nukokmin sat, and as they did T e l e f o l men stood behind them. Then the Nukokmin were reminded of t h e i r past i n s u l t s about food, and the T e l e f o l men f e l l to k i l l i n g them with t h e i r f i g h t arrows, with t h e i r biydl-sinam, and with t h e i r disc-headed stone clubs (tingii). A l l were k i l l e d except for one man who was wounded but escaped. He made his way over to Eliptaman, where his s i s t e r had married among the I l i g i m i n , and there he was sheltered. This was the end of the Nukokmin. Their lands and t h e i r o l d v i l l a g e s i t e s were taken over by some of the Telefolmin, and i t was these Telefolmin who became known as the Falamin. Though nobody i s c e r t a i n j u s t how i t i s these Telefolmin came to be enemies of the Ifitaman T e l e f o l m i n — some say i t was f i g h t s over women, others say over f a i l u r e to reciprocate f e a s t s — F a l a m i n became implacable enemies, and many men say that they had simply taken the place of the Nukokmin not only i n terms of the land they occupied, but also i n terms of t h e i r enmity with the Telefolmin. The most severe threat Telefolmin ever encountered was with the I l i g i m i n , the former inhabitants of Eliptaman. Though there had from time to time been f i g h t i n g between Telefolmin and I l i g i m i n , most of these were skirmishes i n the bush as hunting or gardening p a r t i e s encountered each other. But i n the time of Fupsanim, Tetumnok's father, the I l i g i m i n perpetrated an outrage that threatened the very existence of the Telefolmin as a people. A number of men had gone to T e l e f o l i p f o r an i n i t i a t i o n that was i n progress. During the night they were dancing i n the abiip-mat. Suddenly someone noticed smoke r i s i n g from the yolam, the T e l e f o l i p , the house Afek h e r s e l f had b u i l t and upon which the welfare of Telefolmin and of a l l the other c h i l d r e n of Afek depends. Soon the house was engulfed i n flames while the men stood h e l p l e s s l y by. When dawn came, the house that had towered over the v i l l a g e was a smoldering r u i n of. ashes. As a column of black smoke d r i f t e d up from the heap, the men addressed i t , asking the house to t e l l them who had done t h i s thing. They c a l l e d the names of each of the neighbouring p e o p l e s — a l l i e s and enemies (gbi-i-n and waasi)-—in turn. When they c a l l e d out the name of the I l i g i m i n , the column veered sharply to the northward—the d i r e c t i o n of Eliptaman, the home of the I l i g i m i n . P a r t i e s of armed men found tracks behind where the house stood and combed the v a l l e y for signs of the passage of an enemy party. At the north end of the v a l l e y they found what they were looking f o r — t h e track over the mountains leading to the I l i g i m i n v i l l a g e s of Afogavip and Telapdavip was a l i v e with signs of the enemy. Word was sent out and men gathered at T e l e f o l i p to decide on a course of action. Not only Telefolmin came, but also men from as f a r away as Ulapmin and Fegolmin, f o r the T e l e f o l i p was t h e i r mother as w e l l . Being Afekman—children of A f e k — t h e I l i g i m i n had destroyed t h e i r own mother too, and the men said to themselves, "yes, you have cooked your own mother—now you w i l l be f i n i s h e d " . The men decided not to attack quickly. To do so would be expected, and i t would be better i f the I l i g i m i n were struck when they thought:theddanger of r e t a l i a t i o n was past, when they thought the Telefolmin were too weak to pay them back. And since the T e l e f o l i p had been destroyed, the Telefolmin had l i t t l e strength with which to r e t a l i a t e . To attack immediately would have been foolhardy, and the f i r s t p r i o r i t y was to r e b u i l d the T e l e f o l i p , and renew the strength of the Telefolmin, Men from a l l the T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s and a l l i e s from Ulapmin and Fegolmin assembled at T e l e f o l i p for the am dekota, the r e b u i l d i n g of the T e l e f o l i p . So many came, each contingent dancing into the v i l l a g e from the bush, that the abiit-mat could scarcely hold them a l l . The men were as leaves on the trees, they were so numerous. When the amogen, the T e l e f o l i p was being b u i l t , the'-valley rang with t h e i r singing, and when the house was f i n i s h e d the a i r was f i l l e d with sound of pigs meeting t h e i r end. The feast over and the house restored, the men returned to t h e i r v i l l a g e s to await word from T e l e f o l i p . Some time l a t e r men from a l l the v i l l a g e s were again summoned to T e l e f o l i p . Now i t was time for a saaman ban, the wild pig i n i t i a t i o n and now a prelude to war. Pa r t i e s of men ranged a l l through Ifitaman and even further a f i e l d , k i l l i n g wild pigs and carrying the smoked meat back to T e l e f o l i p . Soon the wild pigs of Ifitaman had been k i l l e d or pushed out beyond the v a l l e y . Arrows found t h e i r mark, the men were now hot, the arrow-smoking r i t e (un baal) had been successful. Once more contingents from each v i l l a g e danced and sang through the f o r e s t on t h e i r way to T e l e f o l i p , led by t h e i r war s h i e l d s , the painted and f l a s h i n g at korn. The time for the I l i g i m i n to pay had drawn near. Plans were l a i d . Each v i l l a g e assembled t h e i r men—including, again, Fegolmin and Ulapmin contingents. The men from the eastern v i l l a g e s — Kubrenmin, T e l e f o l i p , Falamtigin, Komtigin'—divided t h e i r p a r t i e s to hold the v i l l a g e s i n the event of attacks from the Falamin, who were now on f r i e n d l y terms with the I l i g i m i n . Women went out into the gardens and harvested huge amounts of taro, some of which was cooked and set aside as provisions f or the men who were to f i g h t , the remainder to be c a r r i e d by women, old men, and boys for the f i g h t e r s . Old men put the f i n i s h i n g touches on arrows they had been making and s t o c k p i l i n g . Then, at night, men throughout the T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s exchanged t h e i r red dufaal-kon (parrot) headdresses f o r the white bogol'[ (eagle) crowns of war, turned t h e i r wild pigs* tusks upwards (cf, Schwimmer 1973:55, 64, 138ff). That night the men set o u t — q u i e t l y , without singing^-for the high mountain bush near the head of Okfekaman. 112 S i l e n t l y waiting i n the forest i n camps with no f i r e s , the men from each of the pa r t i e s met and gathered. Women c a r r i e d cooked taro f o r them to eat, young boys and old men c a r r i e d bundles of arrows. At night, scouts went s i l e n t l y into the bush i n search of a promising s i t e for an ambush. Crossing over to the near slopes of Eliptaman, they located a large gardening complex not f a r from the present Eliptaman v i l l a g e of Misinmin, a garden that was currently bearing t a r o — a garden to which a large party of I l i g i m i n might be expected to come. The scouts returned, and the following night the trap was l a i d . While the main party remained concealed i n the high f o r e s t , warriors went down i n the darkness carrying t h e i r shields and weapons over the narrow and- tangled tracks, When they reached the garden, they concealed them-selves i n the surrounding undergrowth. Aft e r daybreak, a party of I l i g i m i n men and women, numbering perhaps f i f t e e n or so, entered the c l e a r i n g to begin a day's work. While posting men to watch the approaching tracks, the raiders emerged on the edges of the garden. The I l i g i m i n men went for t h e i r bows but were a l l k i l l e d before they had a chance to draw them, and the women and c h i l d r e n were a l l caught and dispatched with clubs. Word was sent and the main party came down into the garden, where they set about r a p i d l y b u i l d i n g an elam. This elam i n the I l i g i m i n garden was to be t h e i r base f or r a i d i n g the I l i g i m i n settlements themselves, f o r the aim t h i s time was not merely to make a hit-and-run r e t a l i a t o r y r a i d , but to exterminate the I l i g i m i n themselves. From t h i s base, enemy taro f i l l e d T e l e f o l b e l l i e s , while meat was provided by the smoked corpses of t h e i r victims. Today nobody remembers j u s t I K W many warriors k i l l e d the I l i g i m i n , but they were many. Using the same pattern of attack, elam were established i n enemy gardens, and as the Telefolmin l i v e d o f f these, so the I l i g i m i n who retreated to t h e i r v i l l a g e s were deprived of food. One by one, T e l e f o l war par t i e s leap-frogged from one garden complex to another, c l o s i n g on the 113 v i l l a g e s u n t i l they were surrounded, and eventually k i l l i n g those who f a i l e d to escape to v i l l a g e s not under attack, The f i g h t i n g went on for some time u n t i l a l l of the I l i g i m i n v i l l a g e s i n the lower part of Eliptaman had eith e r been destroyed or abandoned. F i n a l l y , a l l the remaining I l i g i m i n f l e d to the v i l l a g e of Agamtevip, at the head of Eliptaman, There they sought to with-stand the attacks of the Telefolmin and t h e i r a l l i e s , for by t h i s time i t was clear that the Telefolmin meant to f i n i s h the I l i g i m i n , Telefolmin pressed the attack home, once more s e i z i n g ^ I l i g i m i n gardens and turning them to t h e i r own use. The v i l l a g e of Agamtevip was surrounded, and a l l the surviving I l i g i m i n men, women, and ch i l d r e n sought refuge i n the yolam. Several times men t r i e d to dash out, either i n search of food or to escape, but a l l of these attempts-—with one e x c e p t i o n — f a i l e d . F i n a l l y , weak from hunger and near starvation, the I l i g i m i n came out and delivered themselves into the hands of the Telefolmin. The men, women, and chi l d r e n were a l l herded to a spot on the banks of the Ok Abung, and there they were l i n e d up. A l l the men were k i l l e d , with the exception of some of the old men who were allowed to remain so that they would i n s t r u c t the Telefolmin about the forbidden spots (abemtem) i n Eliptaman and so that t h e i r bones might be used as r e l i c s for men amem i n T e l e f o l yolam. Many of the older women were k i l l e d , as we l l as any of the younger women or ch i l d r e n who were troublesome to t h e i r captors. The remaining survivors were given to Ulapmin and Fegolmin a l l i e s for t h e i r help, or to young T e l e f o l men without f a m i l i e s who would e s t a b l i s h pioneer settlements i n Eliptaman. Though many of the I l i g i m i n women hanged themselves out of g r i e f , a number remained with t h e i r new T e l e f o l husbands. Thus the I l i g i m i n as a people were destroyed for t h e i r burning.of the T e l e f o l i p , and thus the old I l i g i m i n v i l l a g e s i t e s became the s i t e s f o r new T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s i n Eliptaman. During the time that Agamtevip had been surrounded, a small body of I l i g i m i n had managed to break out of the v i l l a g e and escape into Omtaman, where they sought shelter with Dulanmin a l l i e s . At the time they escaped, Telefolmin did not give chase, but instead pursued t h e i r siege of Agamtevip. Once the re s t of the I l i g i m i n had been k i l l e d or taken, however, a party was sent east over the mountains to hunt them down. They came upon a Dulanmin longhouse where the I l i g i m i n were being sheltered, and when they demanded that the burners of the T e l e f o l i p be turned over, the Dulanmin answered with arrows. Thus T e l e f o l warriors once again attacked, razing the Dulanmin long-house. Some of the men from t h i s longhouse, however, managed to escape north over the mountains to Nenataman—including some of the I l i g i m i n men. Word was sent back, and a l a r g e r party of Telefolmin assembled and went i n pursuit. They f i n a l l y located a small hamlet i n Nenataman where the f u g i t i v e s had gone, and there they destroyed everything—people, pigs, houses, and a l l . Nenataman was a new v a l l e y to Telefolmin, and some thought the prospects of gardening and hunting there were promising. This i s how the two small T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s i n Nenataman (near the Frieda River copper s i t e ) came into being, and there are men l i v i n g there who can s t i l l trace t h e i r connections to the o r i g i n a l T e l e f o l r a i d e r s from Ifitaman who had run down the l a s t of the I l i g i m i n . The men who had cooked t h e i r mother were f i n i s h e d , nothing remaining but t h e i r name. Though the I l i g i m i n were now f i n i s h e d , Telefolmin acquired new enemies a f t e r moving into Eliptaman, To the east, the Dulanmin of Omtaman were now much cl o s e r . Though Dulanmin have the reputation of being ferocious f i g h t e r s , they seem never to have a c t u a l l y mounted raids against T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s , instead attacking p a r t i e s of Telefolmin i n the bush while hunting or gardening. Fighting with Dulanmin was intermittent, though f i e r c e . Women or ch i l d r e n were often taken i n T e l e f o l r a i d s on Dulanmin gardens, with the r e s u l t that a good many Eliptaman Telefolmin now have k i n through, wives or mothers i n Dulanmin. It was one such r a i d that brought Dakasim's mother as a c h i l d to Derolengam, and though she grew up as a Telefolmin, she now receives v i s i t s from Dulanmin who come to Telefolmin, and her c h i l d r e n make s i m i l a r v i s i t s to Omtaman. To the north of Eliptaman l i e the Miyanmin. Some men claim that the Miyanmin were o r i g i n a l l y migrants from T e l e f o l i p who l e f t a f t e r disputes over women. Others are not sure of t h i s , But say that when Telefolmin f i r s t moved into Eliptaman t h e i r r e l a t i o n s with the neighbouring Miyanmin were peaceful. Not long a f t e r the Eliptaman v i l l a g e s were established, however, f i g h t i n g broke out between them, perhaps over women, or gardening and hunting r i g h t s i n the lower-lying v a l l e y of the Ok Fak to the north. The Miyanmin were formidable foes whose attacks against the Eliptaman v i l l a g e r s seem to have been as severe as the T e l e f o l r a i d s i n return. Telefolmin say that part of the Miyanmin success i n k i l l i n g i s due to the f a c t that they had r e c a l l e d the d e t a i l s of war r i t e s from t h e i r days at T e l e f o l i p , and also because they once k i l l e d a Telefolmin and put h i s bones i n rotten wood i n the f o r e s t , thus 'cooling' Telefolmin who ventured there. Whatever the case, Miyanmin were dangerous enemies indeed, men whose f e r o c i t y and wildness i s both grudgingly admired and i n s p i r e s r e v u l s i o n epitomized i n the T e l e f o l claim that Miyanmin warriors eat the vulvas of s l a i n enemy women raw. It was against such enemies that men l i k e Miyaamkaalengim—'oak skin', because arrows wouldn't pierce h i s flesh—made t h e i r names. Old Ni f i n i m of Derolengam once v i s i t e d Miyaamkaalengim i n I b a t i g i n [Eliptaman] . Shortly before, Telefolmin had attempted a r a i d i n Miyanmin country and had been severely beaten, l o s i n g several men. Among these was Miyaamkaalengim's brother. He and N i f i n i m had gone into the bush near a cane bridge across the E l i p . They heard noise i n the bush on the far side,_ and soon a party of Miyanmin wearing feathers and with t h e i r wild pigs' tusks turned upwards appeared on the bank. Miyaamkaalengim t o l d N i f i n i m to give him a l l h i s arrows, and then sent the l a t t e r back to the v i l l a g e to summon help, He was 116 going to stay because he was angry over h i s brother's death and wanted to k i l l some Miyanmin, Off Nifi n i m raced,, but when he got to the v i l l a g e , Miyaamkaalengim was there to meet him, a l l of h i s arrows having been expended on Miyanmin, Later they went back to the bridge and found, some dead Miyanmin there—Miyaamkaalengim had k i l l e d these men and then transformed himself into a b i r d to return to the v i l l a g e ahead of Nifinim. Miyaamkaalengim had faced the enemy several times, but they never k i l l e d him, p a r t l y because he was a huge and ferocious man, p a r t l y because he knew the secret words to change himself into animals or trees i f enemy arrows came too near. Though now only a very few old men know these words, i t was such knowledge that helped Telefolmin i n t h e i r struggles against enemies. The Miyanmin were feared and hated, and i t was for such reasons that T e l e f o l c a r r i e r s — a n d occasionally p o l i c e — w e r e eager to accompany the i n i t i a l contact and p a c i f i c a t i o n p a t r o l s staged by the administration into Miyanmin country. Trusting i n the power of p o l i c e r i f l e s , Telefolmin knew that Miyanmin would be sure to attack such p a t r o l s and watched with r e l i s h whenever charging Miyanmin f e l l before gunfire. And though today Telefolmin seem r e l a t i v e l y at ease and f r i e n d l y with formerly b i t t e r enemies such as Dulanmin, Falamin, or T i f a l m i n , there i s s t i l l great h o s t i l i t y towards Miyanmin. And i f raids and f i g h t i n g have now come to an end, Telefolmin point out that the k i l l i n g now goes on through other means, Miyanmin and Telefolmin now sla y i n g each other s e c r e t l y with biit sorcery. Of a l l the enemies of the Telefolmin, those of longest standing are the T i f a l m i n . T i f a l m i n became enemies through the acts of Afek, l a i d down as part of the scheme of things. But of a l l the enemies of the Telefolmin, the T i f a l m i n seem to have been regarded as of r e l a t i v e l y l i t t l e consequence. Few T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s can r e c o l l e c t any rai d s by the T i f a l m i n , and the brunt of Ti f a l m i n f i g h t i n g seems to have been borne by the Ulapmin, who were a l l i e s of the Telefolmin, When Telefolmin fought T i f a l m i n t h i s was usually to aid the Ulapmin i n t h e i r attacks. Though the Ulapmin seem to have wanted to wage a campaign against the T i f a l m i n s i m i l a r to the one that resulted i n the extermination of the I l i g i m i n , Telefolmin say that t h i s would.have been more trouble than i t was worth. T i f a l m i n are not p a r t i c u l a r l y numerous and, as Telefolmin point out, they seem to have been so preoccupied with f i g h t i n g other T i f a l m i n that they offered l i t t l e threat. Today, r e l a t i o n s with T i f a l m i n are peaceable, and many men now take advantage of t h i s to exchange for bows or s t r i n g s of cowries, ei t h e r with T i f a l m i n , or d i r e c t l y with the Opkeemin people l y i n g to the south of the T i f a l m i n . Warfare, enmity, and enemies are a l l denoted by the T e l e f o l term Waasi , and a l l of the enemies mentioned above—Nukokim, Falamin, I l i g i m i n , Miyanmin, Dulanmin, Tifalmin—were enemies of the Telefolmin c o l l e c t i v e l y , those against whom raids might be made with l i t t l e i n the way of j u s t i f i c a t i o n , those whom Telefolmin could e a t — - i f they so chose—with l i t t l e compunction. Such enemies with whom a more or l e s s general and p r e v a i l i n g state of h o s t i l i t y existed are termed sepwaasi, 'bush enemies'. Though f i g h t i n g between sepwaasi was not always constant and temporary l u l l s i n raids would sometimes approximate an armed truce, there was never any sense i n which peace between sepwaasi was seen as inherently desirable, or even possible. K i l l i n g between sepwaasi was regarded as the i n e v i t a b l e and normal state of a f f a i r s , and unlike some peoples of Papua New Guinea, Telefolmin had no system of compensation or indemnities whereby deaths could be translated into more peaceful channels of exchange. Thus, the only s a t i s f a c t o r y method of redressing the loss of friends or v i l l a g e r s to enemy.arrows was r e t a l i a t i o n i n kind, each death bringing the promise of more k i l l i n g i n return, And i f Telefolmin seem to have gone beyond the t i t - f o r - t a t c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of revenge among some other New Guinea peoples, the f e r o c i t y of t h e i r attacks bespeaks the depth of t h e i r sorrow and anger at l o s s , the hardness of T e l e f o l warriors, and the organizational reserves inherent i n the system of i n i t i a t o r y r i t e s that bestows ifatop on a l l T e l e f o l men through t h e i r p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the T e l e f o l i p , the mother house, the house Afek b u i l t f o r the men among her ch i l d r e n i n Telefolmin. While sepwaasi are bush enemies, Telefolmin also have other enemies cl o s e r to home, enemies who should not-—ideally-—be k i l l e d and eaten, enemies who are not always so and between whom f i g h t i n g should not continue i n d e f i n i t e l y . Such enemies are c a l l e d amwaasi, 'house enemies'. Each T e l e f o l v i l l a g e has, over the course of time, dealings with other T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s which can give r i s e to trouble and disputes. Commonly, such disputes appear not as d i s c r e t e and i s o l a t e d incidents, but as part of a hi s t o r y of tensions and a c t s — b o t h spurred by and f u e l i n g t e n s i o n s — t h a t r e s u l t i n temporary flare-ups of f i g h t i n g . At any one time the focus of troubles may be found i n the suspected or known theft of a pi g , the unauthorized c l e a r i n g of land claimed by a fellow v i l l a g e r , s l i g h t s or poor showings at feasts, or anger over adultery or the l o s s of women to another v i l l a g e i n p r e c i p i t a t e and unsanctioned marriages. Though such troubles may remain contained i n a f l u r r y of abuse and accusation between the i n d i v i d u a l s whose i n t e r e s t s are at stake, i t i s not rare f o r these to end i n assaults, confrontations, and general brawls. When these vents become part of the f a b r i c of accounts between v i l l a g e s , i t i s l i k e l y that they w i l l become amwaasi i f they are not already. In the past r e l a t i o n s could occasionally deteriorate to the point where i n d i v i d u a l s might be murdered or open f i g h t i n g break out between two or more v i l l a g e s , o ccasionally with the help of other v i l l a g e s . But i f t h i s happened, i t was seen as a breach of the peaceful ( i f not always amicable) r e l a t i o n s that should p r e v a i l among a l l Telefolmin, and such f i g h t i n g never had the aim— as i t did with sepwaasi^of the destruction of settlements or the a n n i h i l a t i o n of t h e i r population. When amwaasi were k i l l e d , i t was an ambiguous v i c t o r y — though the k i l l e r s might themselves f e e l that they had s e t t l e d scores, they also knew that the fellow v i l l a g e r s of t h e i r v i c t i m would tend to take the opposite, view. Since amwaasi consisted..usually .of .those.villagers who, often because close at hand, had frequent dealings and encounters with each other, and since there was never any question of the o b l i t e r a t i o n of such v i l l a g e s , i t was clear that the consequences of such k i l l i n g would be d i f f i c u l t to escape. Further, i t was also c l e a r that i t was prudent to moderate and temper h o s t i l i t i e s with amwaasi since, whatever the grievances, a l l T e l e f o l m i n — amwaasi or not—had to r e l y upon each other i n the face of much more deadly threats from sepwaasi. There were other reasons as w e l l for r e s t r a i n t i n dealings with amwaasi. One of these was that i t became d i f f i c u l t for v i l l a g e s as c o l l e c t i v i t i e s to reach consensus on means of redress. Though i d e a l l y a l l v i l l a g e r s should support one another i n dealings with outsiders, t h i s i s complicated by the fa c t that v i l l a g e s are sometimes connected to each other by v i r t u e of t i e s of kinship, marriage, ifalop and dup r e l a t i o n s between various members. There are thus i n any p a r t i c u l a r case a number of ready-made intermediaries (iip-tenum, 'middle men') who would be morally incapable of whole-heartedly supporting the i n t e r e s t s of f e l l o w - v i l l a g e r s against those i n other v i l l a g e s to whom they are bound. Few men would be prepared to jeopardize t h e i r f r i e n d s , brothers-in-law, or ifalop i n other v i l l a g e s unless t h e i r own i n t e r e s t s were d i r e c t l y involved. Often such men would plead for moderation or at l e a s t remain as neutral non-participants i n whatever h o s t i l i t i e s took place. I t sometimes happened that i f the men of a p a r t i c u l a r v i l l a g e were bent on k i l l i n g an amwaasi connected v i a an iip-tenum to t h e i r own v i l l a g e , they would f i r s t see to i t that the l a t t e r was securely bound i n his house or the yolam to prevent an inopportune warning to the intended v i c t i m . In addition, h o s p i t a l i t y o f f e r s secure sanctuary for a v i s i t o r — e v e n i f an amwaasi-—if the host stands by h i s guest; i t i s forbidden to harm anyone i n the house of another unless the host himself permits i t . Thus, i f the men of a v i l l a g e wish to k i l l a v i s i t o r staying with a f r i e n d , they must f i r s t dismantle the e n t i r e house before they molest t h i s person. I t i s absolutely forbidden (qmem, 'taboo') to shed blood i n the house of a fellow v i l l a g e r , and men t o l d me of a number of occasions where they both provided and enjoyed such shelter i n times of trouble. F i n a l l y , when tempers have cooled and the anger of the moment subsided, such iip^tenum are i d e a l l y placed to r e - e s t a b l i s h peaceful r e l a t i o n s between amwaasi, often through arranging r e c i p r o c a l feasts between the v i l l a g e s . If iip-tenum, by b l u r r i n g the l i n e s of enmity between amwaasi, served to keep open h o s i t i l i t i e s manageable, so the existence of other T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s prevented the e s c a l a t i o n of feuding to outright warfare. As neutrals, often with t i e s to both sides i n any p a r t i c u l a r dispute, such v i l l a g e s at the very l e a s t seem to have been able to i s o l a t e the c o n f l i c t as a l o c a l i z e d squabble inv o l v i n g r e l a t i v e l y small numbers. At best, i t was sometimes possible to intervene, and though d e t a i l s here are wanting, t h i s r o l e seems often to have been assumed by the v i l l a g e r s of T e l e f o l i p , who would remind amwaasi that they were, a f t e r a l l , Telefolmin and not true enemies. F i n a l l y , violence seems also to have been tempered by a further consideration: the k i l l i n g of amwaasi c a r r i e s with i t the r i s k of amwaasi iiban, a kind of p o l l u t i o n described as s i m i l a r to r o t . Any v i l l a g e that pursued k i l l i n g other Telefolmin as though they were sepwaasi would open . i t s e l f to the danger of such contamination, the very s i t e of the v i l l a g e i t s e l f emanating sickness and misfortune f o r i t s inhabitants. In such cases the only s o l u t i o n would be to abandon the old v i l l a g e s i t e and relocate elsewhere. If a l l of these considerations conspire to r e s t r i c t open f i g h t i n g between amwaasi, they do not act to eliminate the causes of grievance nor the h i s t o r y of outstanding debts to be paid. Such debts remain, are repaid, and are once again incurred not openly i n the loud confrontations of armed men facing each other, but rather through s t e a l t h and s i l e n c e , through the concealed attacks of biit sorcerers, While i t i s r e l a t i v e l y easy for Telefolmin to come to grips with the problems posed By-men who resort to d i r e c t violence, the acts of biit sorcerers are hidden and concealed (magalo) , By t h e i r very nature d i f f i c u l t to discover with a surety enabling action. If armed and angry men may Be confronted and met, i f men can put t h e i r t r u s t i n such cases i n t h e i r s k i l l and t h e i r f r i e n d s , biit By i t s very nature eludes a sure r e p l y — t h e c u l p r i t s are, i f the biit i s successful, anonymous. When death s t r i k e s down act i v e men without warning, one may Be reasonably sure that biit has Been done. I t i s another matter altogether to be c e r t a i n who i s responsible. Grudges and occasional clues may give r i s e to suspicions that may, a f t e r pondering and discussion, take a more and more d e f i n i t e shape. Following the lead of supposition, men may gather up t h e i r weapons and confront amwaasi thought responsible. Accusations and denials may follow hotly upon one another, and tempers f l a r e - - i n the past, such accusations could p r e c i p i t a t e a f l u r r y of arrows. But since such suspicions often f e l l j u s t short of c e r t a i n t i e s , i t was and i s more common for the accusers to withdraw to nurse t h e i r b i t t e r n e s s and contemplate other p o s s i b i l i t i e s . Since the i d e n t i t y of biit sorcerers i s always uncertain, there i s always the p o s s i b i l i t y that one of one's v i l l a g e mates has the r e q u i s i t e materials and knowledge for biit, and may act as a s i l e n t and anonymous avenger on one's behalf. If the death of a fellow v i l l a g e r by biit i s soon followed by the sudden death of an amwaasi, some s a t i s f a c t i o n may be had i n t h i s evidence that not a l l biit sorcerers are amwaasi and that some may indeed be at work for one's own benef i t . Biit i n Telefolmin i s l i s t e d by men as the most frequent single cause of death, and tabulations from genealogical material show deaths due to biit to i n f a c t have been more numerous than those due to warfare. Here l i e s what i s for Telefolmin a tragedy, for men who have seen the populous-highland areas to the east point out that Telefolmin are f a r fewer i n numbers than 122 these peoples-—a consequence of the k i l l i n g of Telefolmin by other Telefolmin in secret sorcery feuds. These men point out, with sadness and anger, that Telefolmin had never been decimated by sepwaasi-r^the more c o s t l y t o l l was that taken by Telefolmin themselves. One of the boons of self-government and Independence i n T e l e f o l eyes was that for the f i r s t time the government permitted anti-sorcery l e g i s l a t i o n , and the problem of biit has from time to time provided an important question f o r the consideration of the Telefolmin Local Government Council. During the period of time I was i n the f i e l d there was some r e l i e f when i t f i n a l l y became possible to prosecute sorcerers under the law. The e f f i c a c y of the law was vindicated when, i n 1975, one such offender was convicted of attempted sorcery. This man, one Biyupnok of B i i l t e v i p , had i n previous months made sorcery accusations himself against the men of Ankevip v i l l a g e . His wife and h i s brother had both died suddenly-—• sure signs of biit—and i n one case i t was immediately following v i s i t s paid to Ankevip. A loud and angry confrontation between the men of B i i l t e v i p and the men of Ankevip was p r e c i p i t a t e d by Biyupnok's suspicions. . This, however, led to no action, and Biyupnok had decided not to wait for others to s i l e n t l y avenge the deaths. Instead, he had approached an o u t s i d e r — a n Oksapmin man working on the government s t a t i o n — t o acquire some of the materials necessary to perform biit himself. While promising to acquire the materials, the Oksapmin man reported Biyupnok's doings to the administration and to some of the Local Government Co u n c i l l o r s , r e s u l t i n g i n the laying of charges and a conviction leading to some months i n gaol. For Telefolmin, t h i s case stood as a milestone, for i t was now c l e a r that the government stood on the side of the vast majority of Telefolmin, those who deplored biit and were v i c t i m i z e d by i t . And though Biyupnok was not himself t r u l y a biit sorcerer-—evidenced by his search for biit-san Cbii.t seeds') — i t was nonetheless hoped that t h i s could be taken as notice served on a l l biit sorcerers that the government would no longer ignore or t o l e r a t e t h e i r machinations. 123 Here i t i s important to note that biit has a r e a l i t y that can not be dismissed with the l a b e l 'sorcery* carrying i t s connotations of s u p e r s t i t i o n and imaginary dangers. The fac t of the matter i s that biit has been practiced, and that i t i s l e t h a l . Biit i s a v a r i e t y of "assault sorcery" widely known throughout Papua New Guinea as sangguma among Pidgin-speakers and i d e n t i f i e d as Vada among Papuan peoples. From the Western perspective the mechanics of biit involve a secret assault upon lone victims who are rendered unconscious and whose bodies are then punctured at various p o i n t s — n o t a b l y i n the chest c a v i t y and the abdomen—with small thorns or s l i v e r s of bamboo. When the v i c t i m regains consciousness i t i s impossible to i d e n t i f y the a s s a i l a n t s , and death usually follows f a i r l y soon thereafter from p e r i t o n i t i s . In government p a t r o l reports at Telefolmin s t a t i o n there are at l e a s t two d e f i n i t e accounts of s p e c i f i c biit cases, and medical o r d e r l i e s working at the government h o s p i t a l also give accounts of the technological innovations i n biit that contact has brought: patients have now been admitted from whom sewing needles, rather than thorns, were extracted, The essence of biit i s i t s hidden character, and a synonym f o r biit i s magalo aamin, 'unseen k i l l i n g ' , the intent of biit being that the c u l p r i t s remain unknown, thus f r u s t r a t i n g d i r e c t r e t a l i a t i o n . . That biit only takes place between neighbouring T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s i s exp l i c a b l e because sepwaasi have always resorted to more obvious and d i r e c t k i l l i n g — o n l y Telefolmin and those known to them have need of concealing t h e i r i d e n t i t i e s when they k i l l Telefolmin. Though biit, i f successful, leaves no outward traces or marks, i t i s nonetheless a f a i r l y simple matter to diagnose biit as a cause of death. The victims are most often a c t i v e adult men-—those who may have i n the course of t h e i r dealings with others created grievances, and those whose loss would be most severely f e l t by t h e i r fellow v i l l a g e r s . Since biit attacks are always perpetrated upon those who t r a v e l alone i n the bush—nearly always men, who may go out into the bush alone at night to hunt—deaths due to biit i n v a r i a b l y follow c l o s e l y upon the return of the v i c t i m from such a sojourn i n the bush. Though t h i s i n i t s e l f serves to prevent most people from venturing out i n t o the f o r e s t alone, men who are vigorous and who t r u s t i n t h e i r own alertness and strength w i l l nonetheless expose themselves to such r i s k s — i n d e e d , i t i s j u s t such self-assurance and independence that . i s l i k e l y to a t t r a c t the attentions of biit sorcerers, who are p a r t i c u l a r l y drawn to such victims. When the v i c t i m returns to the v i l l a g e , the f i r s t evidences of biit attacks are s i l e n c e or signs of d i s o r i e n t a t i o n . Often incapable of speech and refusing food, the diagnosis i s confirmed by death within two or three days. I t i s the suddenness of death and the s i l e n c e of the v i c t i m that bear the unmistakable marks of biit, d i s t i n g u i s h i n g i t from the l i n g e r i n g malaise that suggests tamoon sorcery or the e f f e c t s of i l l n e s s . Though the o v e r a l l mechanics of biit are r e l a t i v e l y well-known, i t i s d i f f i c u l t to f i n d anyone who knows much more than the broad o u t l i n e s — understandably so, since nobody i s prepared to admit that they know enough about biit to be a p r a c t i t i o n e r . In Derolengam where I worked, men stead-f a s t l y claimed that there was nobody i n the v i l l a g e who had working knowledge of biit. Derolengam,. they explained, had no need of biit i n any event, since the men of Derolengam were numerous and strong and able to sort out t h e i r differences with other v i l l a g e s i n more d i r e c t and open ways. This, they pointed out, was fortunate, for not a l l v i l l a g e s could make the same claims. And though i t i s almost unheard of for biit to be practiced on members of one's own v i l l a g e , they warned me that had I l i v e d elsewhere those who had grudges against Europeans would perhaps see i n me an easy opportunity to even up some scores. When I suggested that perhaps the v i l l a g e might harbour biit sorcerers unbeknownst to the other villagers,, men indignantly protested that t h i s could not be so, a claim which they backed up with the following evidence. Since i t i s known that a number of biit attacks are made i n r e t a l i a t i o n f or other biit attacks, i t follows that v i l l a g e s which haye sorcerers i n t h e i r midst w i l l also be v i l l a g e s which s u f f e r heavily from biit attacks themselves. They pointed out that Derolengam had not suffered heavily from biit, s e l f -evident proof that Derolengam people were innocent of t h i s p a r t i c u l a r s i n i s t e r s k i l l . T e l e f o l i p and Kubrenmin v i l l a g e s , however, were c l e a r l y f u l l of sorcerers, as evidenced by the unusually high number of sudden deaths that took place i n both v i l l a g e s during my stay: each death was repayed by a r e c i p r o c a l death i n the other v i l l a g e . F i n a l l y , the men triumphantly added, they could be sure that there were no biit sorcerers i n Derolengam f o r the simple reason that the men of Derolengam had i n the days j u s t before the Australians a r r i v e d attempted to acquire the techniques for biit, but these proved i n e f f e c t i v e . Twice the men had acquired biit-san from the Atbalmin people, who are noted purveyors of such materials. In one case an attempted attack on an old woman—normally safe victims when t r y i n g out biit—resulted i n bruises she i n f l i c t e d on her attackers and hot pursuit by her armed and enraged husband who was only with great d i f f i c u l t y dissuaded from shooting one of the a s s a i l a n t s , who was hi s s i s t e r ' s son (man, unang-man). In the second case, some "of the men had decided to t r y out th e i r newly-acquired s k i l l s on a young woman of Kubrenmin v i l l a g e who had r e s i s t e d attempts : to send her i n marriage to Derolengam as part of a planned sister-exchange. The men st o l e down to a stream where the Kubrenmin women were known to be looking f o r frogs. A f t e r several f r u s t r a t e d attempts to maneuver into p o s i t i o n , they f i n a l l y were able to creep up behind the dark f i g u r e of t h i s woman—only to f i n d when they f e l l upon her that the 'woman' was a member of a biit party from another v i l l a g e who was s i m i l a r l y attempting to waylay a Kubrenmin woman! Afte r two such f a i l u r e s i t was decided that Derolengam men did not have the knack f o r biit, and they would do better to abandon such attempts before the consequences of f a i l u r e grew 126 more serious. Thus Derolengam claims to innocence were bolstered by the experience of f a i l u r e . Though the men of Derolengam had abandoned bi<it, there were some men who, with understandable reluctance, p r i v a t e l y admitted to a more extensive knowledge of biit than most of t h e i r fellows. A l l men know that biit sorcerers waylay t h e i r victims from behind and knock them unconscious, that they k i l l the v i c t i m then by the i n s e r t i o n of wild sago thorns i n the j o i n t s , abdomen, under the c o l l a r bone. They know that the contents of a dead dog's stomach are poured down the victim's throat, and that more thorns are inserted in^the victim's tongue to render speech d i f f i c u l t , and they then know that one of the attackers remains behind to revive the v i c t i m , who i s t o l d to return home and to die on an appointed day. Such things are public knowledge, as i s the c e r t a i n t y that the death of biit victims i s swift. What most men do not know, however, i s how to become biit sorcerers. To become biit sorcerers, men must take part i n a secret r i t e — t h e biit ban—whose existence i s known but whose d e t a i l s are sketchy. Biit was given to Telefolmin by an aanangen, a wild woman of the bush. This p a r t i c u l a r aanangen had married a man from T e l e f o l i p , and t h e i r descendants (through both male and female l i n e s ) carry the name of Atemkayaakmin. It was by t h i s aanangen that biit was revealed, and for t h i s reason her descendants are p r o f i c i e n t at biit. In order for a.biit ban to be held, an Atemkayaak man must be present to o f f i c i a t e , f o r Atemkayaak people are the ones who know not only the general form of the r i t e , but also know the secret names to be whispered or merely thought to ensure i t s success. And among the Atemkayaak men, there are only a few who also r e t a i n some of the bones of t h e i r ancestral aanangen, without which a biit ban i s doomed to f a i l u r e . To hold a biit ban a small number of men s e c r e t l y arrange a time when—by d i f f e r e n t routes-—they can unobtrusively leave the v i l l a g e and gather at an appointed spot deep i n the bush and f a r from gardens, Thus gathered, the man who leads the r i t e f e l l s a hong tree by singing, and: he then i n the same manner k i l l s a domestic pig brought by one of the party. The men then eat the pig together and afterwards go separately into the bush where they k i l l t e r r e s t r i a l nuk and at l e a s t one sengaa b i r d , a brush turkey. They take the legs of t h i s b i r d o f f and these nuk, to be kept with them. When the men make t h e i r attacks, they w i l l leave no traces but the tracks of these animals, and the s i t e of the attack w i l l be clean and f r e e of evidence j u s t as the brush turkey sweeps the debris of the f o r e s t f l o o r to heap leaves for i t s nest. And, j u s t as the brush turkey lays i t s eggs hidden under a p i l e of leaves and then departs without a trace, so the men who perform biit w i l l leave t h e i r work hidden and vanish. Gathered once more at the f e l l e d tree, the.men beat them-selves and each other with stinging n e t t l e s to make them hot and angry, a l l the while singing a song whose words are secret but whose content i s to the e f f e c t that "no matter i f he's my cross-cousin (nek), no matter i f he's my mother's s i s t e r ' s c h i l d (kabel), he can d i e , he can be k i l l e d , I can f e e l no sorrow". Men who k i l l by biit must be hot and hard, and can f e e l no remorse. When t h i s i s done the man who keeps some of the aanangen's bones takes the-.' netbag (men amem) i n which they are kept and places i t on the head or around the neck of each man i n turn. Carrying t h i s netbag on t h e i r backs a f t e r the fashion of women carrying a netbag of taro, each man bears i t and the weight of the aanangen as he proceeds to balance himself and walk the length of the f a l l e n bong trunk. If a man reaches the end of the trunk, he then r e t u r n s — a man who su c c e s s f u l l y negotiates t h i s passage without f a l l i n g may be powerful with biit indeed, and w i l l range to distant places i n h i s attacks; a man who f a l l s w i l l only be able to carry out h i s biit close to home. Then each of the men present i s given a small packet of biit-san containing perhaps one of the bones of Ungkigingim, a huge snake, and with t h i s some thorns of the wild sago palm from the low and hot country of the Atbalmin, When t h i s i s done the Atemkayaak man once again begins to sing, and as he does so the f e l l e d bong tree i s raised up again, leaving t h i s spot i n the bush as i t was before they came. A l l traces gone, the men then return to t h e i r v i l l a g e where they w i l l test the e f f i c a c y of the r i t e . Under rules of secrecy, no man may reveal the d e t a i l s of the r i t e to others, for should he do so the other p a r t i c i p a n t s of the biit ban w i l l k i l l him with the s k i l l s they have thus acquired. • When they have return e d — a g a i n by various r o u t e s — t o the v i l l a g e , the men wait some time u n t i l a sunny day comes and there are only a few women or c h i l d r e n around. When nobody i s looking, they take a few pieces of firewood and a bamboo arrow blade and place them i n the centre of the abiip-mat. From a vantage point i n the yolam the men keep watch. If the women and c h i l d r e n walk through the abiip-mat but f a i l to notice the wood or the blade, they have met with some success and are now ready to proceed to the next stage; i f the wood and blade are noticed, the men have f a i l e d and w i l l f a i l i n biit. Some days a f t e r t h i s , they then p r a c t i c e t h e i r biit on a dog (an act which i s , i n c i d e n t a l l y , t a b u — T e l e f o l m i n are forbidden to k i l l dogs). If the dog dies they are ready for the next step, but i f i t f a i l s to die they must abandon t h e i r project. Providing they have met with success so f a r , the men then decide upon a member of t h e i r v i l l a g e upon whom they may try out t h e i r technique. Favourite victims here are old women or small c h i l d r e n , who are u n l i k e l y to o f f e r much resistance i f attacked, and whose deaths w i l l not usually be a t t r i b u t e d to biit. This i s often d i f f i c u l t , for i t i s rare for a l l but the most incautious women or c h i l d r e n to go out into the bush alone. Nonetheless, t h i s f i n a l step must be taken before the men r i s k attempting biit on adult men from other v i l l a g e s . Here again, i f the men succeed they may f e e l secure i n t h e i r a b i l i t y to perform biit. If they f a i l at t h i s stage, i t would be f o o l i s h to carry the process further. 129 When a l l of these steps have been taken, the biit sorcerers are now ready to carry out t h e i r secret k i l l i n g s . In small bands of perhaps a .half-dozen or so they w i l l beset t h e i r s o l i t a r y victims from behind. When the attack has been completed, one of them w i l l revive the now-dead v i c t i m with sti n g i n g n e t t l e s . I f the attack has been c a r r i e d out properly, t h e i r hapless prey w i l l be confused and s p e e c h l e s s — t o make sure, one of the a s s a i l a n t s tests him with questions such as "whom am I?", "where does the sun come up?", and so on. If the man can answer, the attack i s repeated once again; i f no answer i s forthcoming, a l l has worked w e l l . The man i s then sent hom to h i s doom and the attackers melt away i n the f o r e s t , confident that t h e i r i d e n t i t y w i l l remain hidden. Their v i c t i m w i l l t e l l no one, and indeed cannot even know who h i s attackers were even i f he were capable of a r t i c u l a t e speech. On a day set by the sorcerers, the man w i l l die, and i f they are p a r t i c u l a r l y meticulous about covering t h e i r tracks, there i s yet a further resource at t h e i r d i s p o s a l . The man who revived the v i c t i m w i l l keep the n e t t l e s used to r a i s e the dead man. If he wishes, he may hang t h i s bundle from one of the r a f t e r s i n h i s house, thus assuring that the v i c t i m w i l l hang himself i n a matter of a few days. The work i s completed. For Telefolmin the p o l a r i t y of dup and waasi, friends and enemies, has always been an important context of t h e i r l i v e s . But i s also one that can be blurred and muddled, f i l l e d with u n c e r t a i n t y — i f i t i s easy to d i s t i n g u i s h sepwaasi, enemies of the bush, from Telefolmin, i t becomes much more d i f f i c u l t to know p r e c i s e l y who among other Telefolmin may t r u l y be a f r i e n d , and who may^—perhaps without one's knowledge—be an amwaasi, an enemy at home, If there i s the possible r i s k of tamoon sorcery i n the v i l l a g e — a v a r i e t y of sorcery that i s only r a r e l y l e t h a l and r a r e l y s e e n — one can at l e a s t be sure that one w i l l not s u f f e r death, by biit at the hands of one's neighbours. But beyond the v i l l a g e , even among other Telefolmin 130 and among men from further a f i e l d who appear to be f r i e n d s , no such c e r t a i n t i e s hold. It i s i n the range of such r e l a t i o n s h i p s that the tension between the two kinds of weng kem-r^-talk of the men of soft heart and of men who are hot and stinging—becomes manifest as ambivalence. I f tact within the v i l l a g e and f e r o c i t y with sepwaasi are the norm, r e l a t i o n s between men of d i f f e r e n t T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s are often tinged with a curious mixture of circumspection and confrontation, coolness and v o l a t i l i t y , Friends, ifalop, and the l i k e are valued but there may nonetheless be f l i c k e r i n g doubts—who here bears a grudge?, who here might be a biit man? One means men have of coping with t h e i r doubts i s to be sure that they never give others reason f o r anger. Youths are counselled to follow t h i s path, but i t i s i n the nature of things that few men w i l l be able to do so, and fewer s t i l l w i l l allow the i n e v i t a b l e trespasses on t h e i r i n t e r e s t s — a t l e a s t at the hands of men from other v i l l a g e s — g o unremarked and unresisted. If men are worried about the prospects of biit, they w i l l take care to see to i t that they never go into the bush unaccompanied. But few men w i l l r e s i s t the temptation to hunt for nuk on moonlit nights simply because they have no one to go with them, and while T e l e f o l men do not go out of t h e i r way seeking danger, men of strong character are u n l i k e l y to allow the fear of biit to make them stay-at-homes at night l i k e the women. Most of a l l , men must be> a l e r t and keep t h e i r eyes open, both f i g u r a t i v e l y and l i t e r a l l y . The key i s always to be sure of who one's friends are, as i l l u s t r a t e d i n an utuum sang that has the nature of a cautionary t a l e : A T e l e f o l i p man had a dup i n Fegolmin who he c a l l e d nek ['cross-cousin'J. The Fegolmin came to T e l e f o l i p to v i s i t and h i s T e l e f o l i p dup made a present to him of some valuables [tisol]. The Fegolmin went back home and didn't v i s i t again for a long while. A f t e r some some the T e l e f o l i p man became impatient and went down to Fegolmin country to get h i s return g i f t . He went down several times, but each time the Fegolmin put him o f f . A f t e r a while, the Fegolmin t i r e d of t h i s and decided the next time h i s dup came from T e l e f o l i p that he would k i l l him. The T e l e f o l i p man set o f f again for Fegolmin to v i s i t h i s dup. He at f i r s t planned to go alone, but h i s s i s t e r ' s son1(manj unqng man} i n s i s t e d that he be allowed to accompany him, so the two went o f f together. When they arr i v e d i n Fegolmin they were given food and then went into the yolam to sleep, The boy's mother's brother (moom)_ f e l l asleep immediately and soundly, but h i s s i s t e r ' s c h i l d only slept l i g h t l y and kept one eye open. Soon one of the hosts, the T e l e f o l i p man's dup, came i n and placed a red telap seed on the chest of h i s sleeping dup. By doing t h i s , he marked t h i s man for k i l l i n g — b u t the boy a l e r t l y saw t h i s , and as soon as the man l e f t , the boy took the seed and placed i t on the chest of a Fegolmin who was sleeping next to him. Soon some men came into the yolam and took the marked man out. Only feigning sleep, the boy got up and followed them. The men butchered the man they had taken out, and the boy was given a parc e l of the meat and some greens from the wife of the Fegolmin dup. [This i s the Fegolmin analogue to T e l e f o l biit, c a l l e d bis.] The boy took these things and returned to the yolam, where he woke h i s mother's brother and t o l d him they must leave immediately. As they were leaving, the Fegolmin who had been k i l l e d was put together again and brought back in t o the yolam. By the time dawn broke the two of them had reached the top of the escarpment overlooking Fegolmin country. The man saw the boy's parcel and asked him what that was, and the boy t o l d him of the man who had been butchered the night before. The two then sat down to eat and as they ate the sound of mourning wails d r i f t e d up to them from the v i l l a g e below,,., The lesson: know whom you can t r u s t , never press friends i n other v i l l a g e s too i n s i s t e n t l y , and stay awake. I t i s i n the background of such t a l e s and of more immediate experience that men f i n d and make friends among other v i l l a g e s ; i t i s th i s background that makes firm and trustworthy friendships such a. highly valued .achievement. v. Parents and Children One of the most important projects i n the l i f e of any Telefolmin i s the care and nurturing of chil d r e n . Children are u n i v e r s a l l y loved, and whenever the women gather together i n the v i l l a g e to chat, joke, or exchange news and gossip i t i s almost i n e v i t a b l e that they xtfill be attended by a hovering f l o c k of small-fry who are t h e i r constant companions. If there are any new additions to the v i l l a g e , t h e i r introduction and welcome to a warm c i r c l e of a f f e c t i o n a t e women w i l l be prompt and informal, the infants being passed from t h e i r mothers' arms to those of beaming young g i r l s (who as yet have no ch i l d r e n of t h e i r own), or to the embraces of jo c u l a r and f r a i l old la d i e s . Constantly cuddled and played with, a newborn c h i l d i s a welcome member of the v i l l a g e who i s treated to a deluge of hugs, loud smacking ki s s e s , and an endless supply of fingers to grasp and breasts to fondle. Mothers and small c h i l d r e n are inseparable: i f mother goes to.the gardens, her load of netbags i s augmented by another suspended from her head i n which the infant i s cradled i n a layer of soft tree bark and leaves. Swaying with each step, the c h i l d i s gently rocked as mother makes her way across streams and steep slopes to where she w i l l work. Here i n the garden c l e a r i n g the babe's bark-string netbag becomes a ti n y hammock suspended from the branches of a shady tree. When the l i t t l e one s t i r s , or when mother takes a break from her work, the infant w i l l be brought out from i t s nest to nuzzle or to take milk from i t s mother's breast. When the baby has grown into a toddler the netbag ; i s l e f t behind, but the contact continues, and small c h i l d r e n spend as much time t r a v e l l i n g a s t r i d e t h e i r mothers' hips or perched on t h e i r shoulders as they do t r y i n g t h e i r own legs. I f fathers seem to spend l e s s time i n such close p h y s i c a l contact with t h e i r c h i l d r e n , they are no l e s s a f f e c t i o n a t e : men w i l l spend odd hours i n garden shelters or at home dandling t h e i r c h i l d r e n on t h e i r laps or sharing choice morsels of game with them, game that i s l i k e l y to have been bagged with t h i s end i n mind. A father's care can be shown by h i s industry, labour which finds i t s compensation and reward i n squeals of delight when he c a r r i e s home a bundle of sweet succulent sugar cane or a tasty pandanus f r u i t f o r h i s young ones. I t i s i n r e l a t i o n s between parents and ch i l d r e n that Telefolmin findva_focus f o r many of t h e i r attachments and sentiments, and i t i s i n such r e l a t i o n s that t o i l s of d a i l y l i f e acquire the tangible s i g n i f i c a n c e of caring and concern for others. 133 "Abeen a yut^telala, abeen a yut-<belata-^ Man boyo amaribu ya, Yut-telala, Muuk kobe," — T e l e f o l song (asengl "Mother come quickly, mother come q u i c k l y — t h e c h i l d crying, come quickly, give the breast," So goes the song, a pleasing d i t t y which neatly formulates the r e l a t i o n of nurturent concern that obtains generally between parents and chil d r e n . In f a c t , small c h i l d r e n are i n the habit of crying a great deal, and the panacea for managing the troubles of toddlers i s to o f f e r them the breast. This pattern l a s t s f a r longer than the period of suckling, and one way that Telefolmin generally cope with f a m i l i a l discord i s by p r o f f e r i n g items of food. In t h i s way the bonds between parents and ch i l d r e n are actualized, a means whereby the d i f f u s e and expected s o l i c i t u d e of mothers and fathers acquires substance and becomes a h i s t o r y of nurturing. The care that parents bestow upon t h e i r c h i l d r e n occasions pride on the part of the parents and fondness and gratitude on the part of t h e i r c h i l d r e n . Thus, when r e c a l l i n g h i s dead father with sorrow and a f f e c t i o n Dakasim not only dwells upon the things they did together, or the places they went, but also the small game or other prized foods that Binengam shared with him. The f a c t s of physiology and paternity aside, the foundations~of parent-hood l i e i n p r e c i s e l y t h i s , where nurturing partakes not only of the nature of the g i f t , but also of the actual processes of nourishment and growth so that c h i l d r e n may be said to owe t h e i r existence to those who have looked a f t e r them. I t i s t h i s bond that makes c h i l d r e n mindful of t h e i r parents. A r e c a l c i t r a n t son may be reminded by h i s father that they w i l l meet again i n Bagelam, the land of the dead, and that i f the son', f a i l s to think of h i s parents then h i s parents w i l l not bother to share food with him when they meet i n Bagelam. In more immediate terms, parents r e l y upon t h e i r children's awareness of t h e i r indebtedness f o r sec u r i t y when the l a t t e r are grown and the former too old and f r a i l to do the heavy work of gardening. And while i t 134 i s a point of pride with wrinkled ancients l i k e Olmamsep to pursue t h e i r labours despite shortwindedness and aching j o i n t s , o ld people f i n d themselves i n e v i t a b l y dependent upon t h e i r c h i l d r e n for numerous things, from house-b u i l d i n g to hunting. For Telefolmin, the indulgence of chi l d r e n thus becomes a means of safeguarding one's l a s t years. Dakasim was forever giving small t i d b i t s to his small son Saalat, and tantrums or f i t s of pique on Saalat's part often occasioned small purchases of b i s c u i t s from the mission trade store. When I asked Dakasim why he was so painstakingly s o l i c i t o u s of Saalat—who appeared to me to be e x p l o i t i n g the s i t u a t i o n and was, by North American standards, being spoiled shamelessly—he gave me the following reply. "When Saalat i s grown i t wouldn't be good i f he thought back and said, 'you didn't look a f t e r me w e l l , you didn't give me things'. Then he/ might not think about me. But i f he thought, 'yes, papa always took good care of me, he gave me meat, he gave me b i s c u i t s , he gave me good things to eat', then he would stay with me. He wouldn't go anywhere else or leave me, he would stay with me and look a f t e r me because he would remember." And though i t was clear to me that Dakasim's care for Saalat embodied genuine love and a f f e c t i o n , i t i s also cle a r that Dakasim's words expressed r e a l concerns, and i t i s equally .-clear that i n Telefolmin parenthood i s not only a state, but an a c t i v i t y . People are parents not simply by v i r t u e of ph y s i o l o g i c a l paternity or maternity, but because they perform the acts of parents: they look a f t e r t h e i r c h i l d r e n . Here we touch upon the fac t that r e l a t i o n s between parents and chi l d r e n i n Telefolmin are, l i k e most others, contingent and open to change, for parenthood i s not so much a given as an achievement. The autonomy of the person i n Telefolmin i s nearly absolute, and t h i s i s so even i n the case of r e l a t i v e l y small c h i l d r e n . In th i s context, parents are always c a r e f u l not to abuse t h e i r c h i l d r e n , nor even to exercise compulsion or authority over them. Though c h i l d r e n may be chastised or scolded, and occasionally cuffed 135 i f they try t h e i r parents' tempers, i t i s nonetheless exceptional for parents to s t r i k e t h e i r c h i l d r e n . The notion of using force as a c o r r e c t i v e i s a l i e n to T e l e f o l notions of the proper r e l a t i o n s between parents and c h i l d r e n . The idea i t s e l f makes no sense, at l e a s t i n the context of notions of what ought to be (as opposed to what i s ) : "How could I h i t my children? They're my own blood (isak atok) !". And though fathers are i n theory capable of k i l l i n g disobedient c h i l d r e n by cooking the j u i c e of two v a r i e t i e s of red sugar cane (kwet tenep and kwet afaayim) on hot stones, t h i s remains only as a t h e o r e t i c a l p o s s i b i l i t y , since nobody could r e c a l l any cases i n which t h i s was done. There are good reasons for parents to moderate t h e i r anger, for a c h i l d who f e e l s . i l l - t r e a t e d at home i s free to translate d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n into action by moving out of the parental household and taking up residence i n the houses of other r e l a t i v e s . Thus, when Imbil, Dakasim's eldest daughter, was scolded for prematurely harvesting some taro from one of the family gardens, she took up her netbags, planting stock, and bush-knife and amidst tears and angry shouts l e f t her father's house and moved in t o the house of her father's brother and s i s t e r . Though the estrangement i n t h i s case was only temporary—Imbil moved back into Dakasim's house a f t e r a few w e e k s — i t nonetheless adds another reason for parents to be s o l i c i t o u s of t h e i r c h i l d r e n , f or c h i l d r e n may leave t h e i r parents. "She takes up her netbag, she loads up her taro s t a l k s , she packs up her s k i r t s . . . . " — T e l e f o l song "Oh sorry mama, I want to go to the Sepik school...." — P i d g i n song "When a boy grows b i g he w i l l marry, then he and h i s wife w i l l go to t h e i r gardens. He's married now, and he w i l l stop thinking about h i s mother and father. This i s how i t i s with us Telefolmin...." Though T e l e f o l mothers and fathers are at pains to maintain good r e l a t i o n s with t h e i r c h i l d r e n , the time w i l l nonetheless come when the c h i l d r e n grow to adulthood and t h e i r attentions w i l l turn to t h e i r own problems of family l i f e . With the b i r t h of t h e i r f i r s t c h i l d , a newly married couple acquires a new i d e n t i t y , f o r adults become generally known by teknonyms, names taken a f t e r that of t h e i r f i r s t c h i l d . Such names s i g n a l the j o i n i n g of husband and wife i n the common project of caring f or t h e i r c h i l d r e n , and announce to the community as a whole the achievement of parenthood. Though couples may spend the early part of t h e i r married l i f e sharing a house with the parents of e i t h e r the husband or the wife, i t i s rare for such arrangements to endure long beyond the b i r t h of t h e i r f i r s t c h i l d r e n . From that point on, the new couple w i l l e s t a b l i s h a separate household i n the v i l l a g e , often j o i n i n g together with the family of one of the spouses' brothers or s i s t e r s . That c h i l d r e n e s t a b l i s h new households with marriage i s of course w e l l understood and expectable, and need not mean that r e l a t i o n s between ch i l d r e n and parents are severed. But i t i s nonetheless a f a c t that gives parents concern. Children of both sexes are highly valued, p a r t l y because aged parents are l a r g e l y dependent upon sons for hunting and help i n t h e i r f o r e s t clearance, while daughters often help with weeding and p l a n t i n g . The marriage of c h i l d r e n thus represents a p o t e n t i a l loss of t h i s assistance, which becomes more valuable as the parents become older. For t h i s reason, as w e l l as for reasons of a f f e c t i o n , parents are often reluctant, or ambivalent when faced with t h i s p o t e n t i a l l o s s . This i s more marked i n the case of daughters than of sons, for while sons almost i n v a r i a b l y remain i n t h e i r parents' v i l l a g e , daughters may sometimes marry men of other v i l l a g e s , to which they w i l l move. Since, formally at l e a s t , marriage arrangements are i n the hands of the parents of the bride, t h i s reluctance i s often made manifest i n attempts to put o f f or defer the marriage of daughters. I t i s i n recognition of the parents' l o s s , and more s p e c i f i c a l l y , of t h e i r anger and resentment of the loss of a daughter, that bride wealth (unang kuh) i s . p a i d . Though, some fathers may drag t h e i r feet, at the prospect of t h e i r daughters' marriage, t h i s delaying t a c t i c can only be employed for so long, since young women are notorious for taking such a f f a i r s into t h e i r own hands by eloping, and community gossip may spur a father to action with v e i l e d hints of incestuous connections. The most common s o l u t i o n to the problem, and the one which receives the widest public approval, i s for a man to betroth h i s daughter to a young man of h i s own v i l l a g e . This preference, seen c o l l e c t i v e l y as v i l l a g e endogamy, i s favoured for a number of reasons. F i r s t l y , the p o t e n t i a l son-in-law w i l l be well-known to the g i r l ' s parents, and they w i l l be i n a p o s i t i o n to assess h i s character and the l i k e l i h o o d that he w i l l be both able and w i l l i n g to a s s i s t them: i n such cases, they w i l l not so much be l o s i n g a daughter as gaining a son. Further, Telefolmin hold the notion that c h i l d r e n should remain as replacements for t h e i r parents i n the v i l l a g e . An i n t r a - v i l l a g e marriage makes i t possible f o r both the parents of the bride and of the groom to be s a t i s f i e d on t h i s score, and a man w i l l have the a d d i t i o n a l s a t i s f a c t i o n of knowing that land that he has brought under c u l t i v a t i o n w i l l be re-used i n subsequent g e n e r a t i o n s — h i s labour i s not l o s t . In addition, T e l e f o l attitudes towards marriage see the s i t u a t i o n i n terms of the loss of women, and i d e a l l y a woman given to one family i n marriage ought to be compensated f o r by the giving of another woman—as replacement—in return. Though i n p r a c t i c e i t i s d i f f i c u l t f o r a number of reasons to r e a l i z e t h i s notion of what i s f i t t i n g , i t becomes even more d i f f i c u l t to manage when the marriages take place between d i f f e r e n t v i l l a g e s : short of abduction or open confrontations, i t i s v i r t u a l l y impossible to enforce the return of a woman i n compensation from another v i l l a g e . Within one's own v i l l a g e , arrangements are made more e a s i l y and more subtle pressures can be brought to bear, and i t i s i n f a c t l i k e l y that an i n t r a - v i l l a g e marriage w i l l be viewed as the f u l f i l l m e n t of past debts. F i n a l l y , i n t r a - v i l l a g e marriages receive general public approval, for men b e l i e v e that by. r e t a i n i n g the women of the v i l l a g e i n marriage that they are b o l s t e r i n g the o v e r a l l strength of the v i l l a g e i n numbers, and at the same time i n c u r r i n g no losses to other v i l l a g e s . For these reasons, i t i s perhaps not s u r p r i s i n g that parents seem to be more casual about bridewealth payments i n the case of i n t r a - v i l l a g e marriages, w h i l e — i f the match i s permitted at a l l — b r i d e w e a l t h negotiations i n i n t e r - v i l l a g e marriages tend to be much more demanding and are c a r r i e d on i n a general atmosphere of restrained h o s t i l i t y . The song r e f e r r i n g to a woman gathering her belongings i s a popular lament, the crying of the g i r l ' s parents as she prepares to leave her home to marry a man elsewhere. S t e r e b t y p i c a l l y , i f a g i r l runs o f f to another v i l l a g e to marry her parents w i l l confront the man, saying, "Why did you come and take our child? Did you send us your s i s t e r to marry here, did she bear many c h i l d r e n that they defecate on our verandahs? For what reason did you come and take her?". Some sense of the depth and extent of parents' attachments to t h e i r c h i l d r e n , and t h e i r f e e l i n g s of anger and resentment at t h e i r loss may be had by a look at one p a r t i c u l a r case i n v o l v i n g old Welagim and h i s daughter, Kilasep. Welagim's biography i s f u l l of the reverses that beset T e l e f o l men, the kinds of events that b r i n g sadness to t h e i r l i v e s . As a young man, Welagim and h i s wife had four c h i l d r e n , two boys and two g i r l s . Of these, one boy and one g i r l died i n infancy, c h i l d r e n whose loss i s s t i l l f e l t by Welagim i n h i s l o n e l i e r moments. Some time afterwards, Welagim's wife had an adulterous a f f a i r with a man from Ankevip, whom she eventually ran o f f to marry. Disappointed i n the f a i l u r e of h i s fellow v i l l a g e r s to come to h i s a i d to r e t r i e v e h i s wife, Welagim held f a s t to h i s two surviving c h i l d r e n , the daughter Kilasep and h i s son Tegemsep. On h i s own, he looked a f t e r both without the aid of a wife—something which was hard work, and c u r t a i l e d h i s scope for creating numerous exchange r e l a t i o n s with other men. Being ambitious f or both h i s ch i l d r e n , Welagim also undertook pe r i o d i c work on government labour gangs to acquire the money to pay t h e i r school fees, a l l the while keeping h i s gardens i n good order and expanding h i s c u l t i v a t i o n s so that his c h i l d r e n would have much land of t h e i r own. While at school, Kilasep met and made friends with c h i l d r e n from a number of other v i l l a g e s , i n c l u d i n g a youth from Kubrenmin v i l l a g e (Eliptaman). When Kilasep grew into a f u l l breasted young woman, she and her f r i e n d from Kubrenmin eloped. She ran away with him to Eliptaman, and they were soon pursued by angry men from Derolengam Welagim c r i e d and lamented to h i s fellow v i l l a g e r s that f i r s t he had l o s t h i s wife, and then a stranger had come and taken h i s only daughter. The younger men of the v i l l a g e became furious at t h i s — t h e r e had been other grievances against the men from Kubrenmin—and took up t h e i r weapons and hiked over the mountains to Kubrenmin. When they a r r i v e d at Kubrenmin, the couple had gone into hiding i n the bush. In an angry confrontation, the men from Derolengam made many threats, and the people of Kubrenmin disavowed any sanction f o r the match. K i l a and her young man remained i n h i d i n g i n the bush, l i v i n g e x c l u s i v e l y around distant garden clearings f o r a period of months. Later, when the couple had returned to Kubrenmin, the young man sent word that he wished to o f f e r bridewealth f or K i l a s e p . Once again young men from Derolengam took up t h e i r bows and arrows and went o f f to Kubrenmin. Bridewealth was refused—Welagim would not part with h i s only daughter—and Kilasep was seized bound, beaten, and c a r r i e d back to Derolengam. Though violence i s t h e o r e t i c a l l y c u r t a i l e d with the advent of government administration, Welagim and others made i t clear that Kilasep would not be permitted to marry out of the v i l l a g e . Very sho r t l y thereafter, Welagim bestowed Kilasep upon Robinok, a man of Derolengam. In t h i s way Welagim was able to keep h i s daughter at home, and Kilasep now helps her aged father from time to time i n h i s gardens. 140 Though, such incidents are most common i n the case of errant d a u g h t e r s w h o — b e i n g women—are more l i k e l y to heed t h e i r fancies than t h e i r t i e s at home, sons also give cause for concern and Welagim i s not alone i n h i s worries over the loss of h i s c h i l d r e n . Though i n the past sons could be r e l i e d upon to remain i n t h e i r parental v i l l a g e , the advent of government administration has brought with i t a new range of problems. The establishment of the Baptist mission, with i t s b i b l e school, the a v a i l a b i l i t y of contract pla n t a t i o n labour on the coast or i n the c e n t r a l highlands, and the government-sponsored schools a l l act to exert a powerful influence on eager and adventuresome youths, and i n the process threaten to sever the l i n k s of c h i l d r e n to t h e i r parents. Though not t y p i c a l , the case of Olmamsep's r e l a t i o n s with h i s c h i l d r e n i l l u s t r a t e s some of these d i f f i c u l t i e s . Old Olmamsep and h i s wife Okmanip have several l i v i n g c h i l d r e n , one sonc. and. three daughters.' In addition, Olmamsep had had another son, who died as a c h i l d i n a house f i r e . Of Olmamsep's three daughters, the two youngest attended school f o r some time, one of them marrying a c i v i l servant from another region, with whom she l i v e s with her c h i l d r e n i n Vanimo, the d i s t r i c t headquarters on the coast. The other school g i r l eventually, a f t e r much s t r i f e , married the Kubrenmin man from Eliptaman with whom Kilasep had eloped some time,'previously. The t h i r d and eldest.daughter, Tenumtelen, now l i v e s with her parents i n Derolengam a f t e r she was divorced by her-husband:(also of Derolengam) for suspected adultery. When her marriage came to an end, her eldest son,.and daughter remained with t h e i r father, while her youngest son', and daughter returned with her to Olmamsep's household. (This i s p a r t i c u l a r l y f i t t i n g i n T e l e f o l eyes, since both the f a m i l i e s of the mother and the father each retained custody of an equal number of male and female children.) ~..v: ... Olmamsep, while not pleased with the loss of two of h i s daughters to husbands from beyond the v i l l a g e , nonetheless enjoys the presence of Tenumtelen and h i s grandchildren. Despite t h i s , however, Olmamsep i s saddened and preoccupied by 141 the f a c t that h i s only surviving s o n — h i s r e p l a c e m e n t — l e f t the v i l l a g e long ago. Olmamsep's son, Barton, ran away as a young boy to l i v e at the mission b i b l e school where he became l i t e r a t e , and where he was supported both by the mission and by one of h i s cousins who was also i n residence at the school. At f i r s t , Olmamsep would go to the mission s t a t i o n to reclaim h i s son, but each time he went Barton (whose o r i g i n a l name i s Magasimnok) would run o f f into the f o r e s t and remain i n hiding u n t i l h i s father l e f t . F i n a l l y , Olmamsep acquiesced, and Barton was free to pursue hi s studies and h i s ambition to become a pastor for the mission. When the government school with English i n s t r u c t i o n was opened, Barton attended classes there, and eventually did w e l l enough so that he was able to pass the examinations for entrance to high school i n Wewak, on the coast. Thus, Barton l e f t Telefolmin as a youth, though he remained i n contact v i a l e t t e r s or messages sent to the government s t a t i o n , or on occasional v i s i t s home during his school holidays. A f t e r f i n i s h i n g high school, Barton continued h i s education, taking s p e c i a l courses i n Port Moresby and i n A u s t r a l i a for t r a i n i n g i n counselling and youth work. During t h i s time, a young woman of Derolengam, who was both a C h r i s t i a n and educated—a n u r s e — had been betrothed to him by her father, a f r i e n d of Olmamsep's. I t was p a r t l y by such means that Olmamsep hoped to a t t r a c t h i s son back to the v i l l a g e , or at the very l e a s t to s o l i d i f y Barton's t i e s to the v i l l a g e . But, n a t u r a l l y enough for a young man with goals and aims, Barton was reluctant and refused the match, an act that angered many of h i s k i n at home. During the time I was l i v i n g i n Derolengam Barton was staying i n Port Morseby, where he was engaged i n government work. One of the questions I continually faced whenever I encountered Olmamsep a f t e r r e c e i v i n g some mail was whether or not I had any word of Barton's whereabouts or circumstances, and the old man was always disheartened and c r e s t f a l l e n because my r e p l i e s were always negative. Barton,did, however, send l e t t e r s home from time to time, which were read to the old man by one of the handful of l i t e r a t e men i n 142 the v i l l a g e and such l e t t e r s were o f t e n accompanied by g i f t s of money f o r Olmamsep and Okmanip. Olmamsep would sometimes d i c t a t e r e p l i e s , e i t h e r to one of the schooled men or to myself, i n which, he would make small requests or ask when Barton might be expected to r e t u r n to the v i l l a g e . F i n a l l y , i n 1974, Barton sent word that he was going to marry a nurse he had met from Wapenamanda (Enga P r o v i n c e ) , and s o l i c i t e d help from h i s r e l a t i v e s to r a i s e the re q u i r e d b r i d e w e a l t h , which was exhorbitant by T e l e f o l standards. Though a number of Barton's k i n were i n f u r i a t e d — a r g u i n g that he had neglected h i s f a t h e r and h i s v i l l a g e , but now req u i r e d t h e i r h e l p , that he had refused to marry a d e s i r a b l e T e l e f o l woman who had been betrothed to him, thereby embarrassing her, and that w i t h h i s steady cash income i t was g a l l i n g that he should ask h i s impoverished v i l l a g e - m a t e s to c o n t r i b u t e to s a t i s f y the greed of h i s Wapenamanda a f f i n e s — a number of men put by small amounts of cash ( f o r Enga people demanded cash) or bundles of plumes or s t r i n g s of s h e l l s to a i d him. In t h i s , Barton a l s o announced that he would v i s i t h i s f a m i l y i n Derolengam a f t e r s e v e r a l months' time. Though upset that Barton was going to marry a f o r e i g n woman—and a l s o d i s g r u n t l e d , s i n c e f o r e i g n e r s were o f t e n known not to observe the T e l e f o l custom of making a r e t u r n payment f o r the handing over of the b r i d e w e a l t h , l e t alone sending a woman i n r e t u r n , Olmamsep was nonetheless e x c i t e d at the prospect of Barton's impending v i s i t , and he set about t a k i n g steps to assure a proper welcome f o r h i s son's r e t u r n . Olmamsep began a c q u i r i n g a number of p i g l e t s , and when h i s sows had l i t t e r s he r e t a i n e d a l l the o f f s p r i n g i n s t e a d of f o l l o w i n g the normal p r a c t i c e of a g i s t i n g them w i t h f r i e n d s . In t h i s way he hoped to accumulate pigs to slaughter and present to Barton when he a r r i v e d . The work of p i g - r e a r i n g i s hard and demanding, and more so f o r an ol d couple whose bones begin to tr o u b l e them and whose strength and endurance are not what they were. P a r t l y because of the t r o u b l e of moving pigs from v i l l a g e to garden and back again, and p a r t l y because of the r i s k that the pigs might cause trouble i n neighbours' gardens, Olmamsep and Olsmanip took t h e i r pigs and r e t i r e d to a house of t h e i r s located i n the t r a c t known as N i n i p b i l , some hours' walk east of the Sol. Here the couple had a number of producing gardens and set about the task of c l e a r i n g others with which to feed ./themselves and the small herd of pigs that they were tending. This, however, came at some cost. Olmamsep!s protracted absence from the v i l l a g e — l a s t i n g over a period of months, punctuated by b r i e f returns—was noted and became a topic of unfavourable comment for many of h i s f r i e n d s , neighbours, and r e l a t i v e s . Half jokingly and h a l f s e r i o u s l y , he and Okmamip came to be referred to as the N i n i p b i l Kasel, the N i n i p b i l people, as some noted that he seemed to be more preoccupied by h i s pigs than by h i s fellow v i l l a g e r s . Further, many were concerned that by h i s long residence i n N i n i p b i l , he and h i s wife, who l i v e d there alone, would expose themselves to the r i s k of biit sorcery. In a matter of several weeks, more severe problems began to a r i s e . The country i n N i n i p b i l i s broken t e r r a i n , and since Telefolmin do not fence or confine t h e i r pigs—something f e l t to be a sort of cr u e l t y , which they l i k e n to gaol, and which i s f e l t to adversely a f f e c t the pigs' growth—a . number of pigs from Olmamsep's herd managed to wander o f f through the bush, from which they had to be r e t r i e v e d a f t e r some strenuous tracking and chasing. Nor was th i s a l l , f o r people from a number of T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s — a s well as some Falamin—maintain gardens i n N i n i p b i l , and not a l l of these are fenced, since wild pigs had at th i s time been driven from the area. As a r e s u l t , a number of Olmamsep's pigs had made t h e i r way into some of these gardens, where they wrought great damage and aroused the anger of the gardeners. Soon Olmamsep found that h i s pigs had gotten him into trouble with a number of people, not a l l of whom were fellow v i l l a g e r s , and who were thus people who might be expected to resort to biit i f t h e i r anger were not assuaged. In a l l of t h i s , Olmamsep had to manage h i s a f f a i r s alone, since Okmanip had grown f r a i l with advanced years and was unable to be of much help i n tracking down 144 wandering pigs. Though he had compensated some of the wronged gardeners with replacement planting stock, the s i t u a t i o n soon got out of hand and he found himself obliged to k i l l the most troublesome of h i s pigs and o f f e r cuts from them to f o r e s t a l l the resentment of others.who gardened i n N i n i p b i l . Thus, his herd soon dwindled to manageable s i z e . During a l l of t h i s time word of these happenings produced concern among the old man's friends and neighbours, for they began to e n t e r t a i n serious fears that i t would be only a matter of time before a biit attempt were made. To t h i s was added the le s s a l t r u i s t i c concern that a number of Olmamsep's pigs had been k i l l e d and given away to strangers, rather than shared with fellow v i l l a g e r s . The s i t u a t i o n came to a head when Olmamsep and Okmanip returned to the v i l l a g e because Okmanip was s u f f e r i n g from a l i n g e r i n g ailment: her condition had grown so bad that Olmamsep wanted her to be able to go to the government h o s p i t a l f or treatment. This coincided with the return of Kunilok, a younger brother of Olmamsep, from a long period i n the bush, and Kunilok appeared to be s u f f e r i n g from a s i m i l a r ailment. There was much speculation among the v i l l a g e r s as to the cause of these d i s a b i l i t i e s , some h i n t i n g that the prolonged period i n the bush and the hard work of tending pigs were responsible f or Okmanip's condition. In the midst of t h i s t a l k were also observations that Olmamsep had become obsessed with the pigs marked for h i s son, and that i t was t h i s that made him unmindful of both the welfare of h i s wife and the f e e l i n g s of h i s fellow v i l l a g e r s . His pigs had drawn him to the bush and away from v i l l a g e l i f e , exposing him to r i s k , exhausting the old man's energies as he t r i e d to look a f t e r h i s now-dwindling herd. In h i s anxiety to provide a good showing and a dramatic welcome f o r h i s son he had even refused to reduce h i s labour by a g i s t i n g h i s pigs, since to do so would have meant that he would have had to give a share of these pigs to the tender. 145 In a matter of a couple of days a diagnosis of both Okmanip's and Kunilok.'s i l l n e s s had been a r r i v e d at:- the cause of t h e i r misfortune was to be found i n the anger of the s p i r i t (usong) of a set of r e l i c s (men amem) entrusted to Olmamsep's care. The usong was angry for being neglected by Olmamsep, who not only f a i l e d to keep i t company due to h i s absence i n the bush, but had also k i l l e d a number of pigs i n the bush without returning with a portion to giveto the usong, something which Kunilok had also been negligent about. In i t s anger, the usong brought i l l n e s s to Olmamsep's wife and to h i s younger brother. In order to put things r i g h t , Olmamsep had to hold an ugem kong curing r i t e i n which a p i g was k i l l e d to p a c i f y the r e s e n t f u l usong, and to which v i l l a g e r s came to share i n the p i g and enhance t h e i r own well-being. With t h i s came the advice of Olmamsep's fr i e n d s , who urged him to reduce h i s commitment to tending h i s pigs i n the bush and to remain i n the v i l l a g e . Force was added to t h i s by the h i n t that i f he f a i l e d to do so, other v i l l a g e r s would refuse to give him p i g l e t s , e i t h e r as g i f t s or merely as wards to tend. Later, when Barton eventually paid h i s v i s i t home, Olmamsep feasted him with two large pigs. The welcome had been made, the contributions to Barton's bridewealth were c o l l e c t e d i n exchange for promises of repayment, and Barton again departed. In the case of Olmamsep we can see the extent to which a parent's anxieties concerning h i s c h i l d r e n , preoccupation with fears of loss and estrangement, and the desire to bind them to him can take precedence over the concerns and obligations of v i l l a g e l i f e , even to the extent of jeopardizing the health of himself and those close to him. This was the moral content of the diagnosis:—which, became l a r g e l y a community a f f a i r — o f the usong's r o l e i n Okmanip's and Kunilok's i l l n e s s , f o r not only had Olmamsep allowed h i s fee l i n g s for h i s son to i n t e r f e r e with h i s p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n v i l l a g e l i f e . His preoccupations had threatened r e l a t i o n s with other gardeners i n N i n i p b i l , and 146 by neglecting .the usong (which, as we s h a l l see, are c l o s e l y i d e n t i f i e d with the v i l l a g e as an entity) had allowed h i s anxieties concerning Barton to endanger his wife and brother, putting h i s sense of estrangement from h i s only son before h i s t i e s to others. Though Olmamsep did abide by the advice of h i s fellows, these preoccupations continued to dominate h i s thought, for of f i v e c h i l d r e n he had fathered, the only one that remained to him was h i s divorced daughter. I t i s perhaps not so s u r p r i s i n g that l a t e r , i n the middle of 1975, Olmamsep spend f o r t y d o l l a r s — a p r i n c e l y sum i n Telefolmin, sent to him by B a r t o n — t o provide f o r a seance i n the Ok Bembem c u l t (see Chapter 4) i n order to contact the s p i r i t of h i s other son, who had perished i n the burning house years before. If the old man's lonel i n e s s was not to be remedied by h i s r e l a t i o n s with h i s l i v i n g but distant son, perhaps i t would be a l l e v i a t e d by contact with h i s son i n the land of the dead. Though Olmamsep's case i s perhaps extreme and the fa c t of h i s separation from h i s son a t t r i b u t a b l e to r e l a t i v e l y recent changes at work i n T e l e f o l society, h i s experiences nonetheless h i g h l i g h t the tremendous value parents place on t h e i r r e l a t i o n s with t h e i r c h i l d r e n , and on the f r a g i l i t y of such bonds. If such s i t u a t i o n s i n the present seem to us to be novel, we must remember that before there were missions or schools there was warfare, and i n both past and present the most irreparable sundering of c h i l d from parent comes with a c h i l d ' s death. The death of a c h i l d i s a denial of a l l that parents attempt, the negation of what i s normally a l i f e - l o n g project. While the death of One's parents i s the occasion for much g r i e f , a shock that remains with men f o r a l l t h e i r l i v e s , i t i s nonetheless expectable and part of the way of things. And though i n the past and even to some extent i n the present the hold of infants on l i f e i s often precarious, there are few events i n a man's l i f e that are as wrenching as the death of a beloved c h i l d . I t i s thus that we are to understand the g r i e f and sense of loss that led Bololim (Robinok's father) to attempt to murder a woman who was giving b i r t h i n a dungam within days a f t e r h i s only daughter had died. And though neighbours stayed h i s hand, hi s g r i e f remained with, him, made more p i e r c i n g when he c a r r i e d the thatch for a new house that h i s daughter would otherwise have c a r r i e d f o r him. Very shortly a f t e r w a r d — a f t e r some parting words to Robinok, h i s eldest s o n — Bololim disappeared into the bush and was only found again when a dream revealed that he had hanged himself i n a l i t t l e - u s e d dungam, the place of b i r t h and the source of c h i l d r e n . Such occurrences are made more poignant by t h e i r r a r i t y , posing c r i s e s which most men ponder but which thankfully do not touch them. If such loss always remains a p o s s i b i l i t y , the p o s s i b i l i t y acquires gravity because of the close a f f e c t i o n that normally obtains between c h i l d r e n and t h e i r parents. When Dakasim t r a v e l l e d to Vanimo to v i s i t h i s s i s t e r , married to a coastal policeman, he was soon followed by h i s impish daughter Itmop, who discovered that the government would f l y her to the coast i f she required urgent medical atte n t i o n . A f t e r some experimentation, she managed to lodge several pebbles i n her ears, presented h e r s e l f at the s t a t i o n h o s p i t a l , and was flown to Vanimo. The pebbles extracted, she soon found her way—though speaking no P i d g i n — t o her aunt's house, where she was able to j o i n her father. Far from being reproached for her play, she gladdened Dakasim's heart. A daughter who would go to such lengths i s a p r i z e indeed! Such c h i l d r e n are treasured, and Itmop's attachement to her father i s mirrored by that of others. Thus, Beksep v o l u n t a r i l y withdrew from the government school as a boy not because of parental disapproval or because i t was d i f f i c u l t to pay the school fees. He l e f t school because his elder brother, who has now taken the name of John, went away to high school and then got a job working for the administration as a c l e r k . Beksep, being the only remaining son, committed himself to v i l l a g e l i f e so that he would be able to look a f t e r h i s parents i n t h e i r o l d age. Now a father himself, Beksep i s u n i v e r s a l l y l i k e d and admired, the more so because he provides for most Telefolmin the exemplar of the devotion that people hope w i l l flow from a h i s t o r y of parental care and concern. Here he even manages to turn themew l i t e r a c y to account, f o r he has more than once enticed John home to v i s i t h i s parents by resort to urgent l e t t e r s announcing non-existent or exaggerated family c r i s e s . Beksep's conduct and the experiences of others have been suggestive to many younger T e l e f o l fathers and mothers, who desire that t h e i r c h i l d r e n p r o f i t from schooling and yet wish to avoid the a l i e n a t i o n of t h e i r c h i l d r e n that often comes with education and i t s opportunities. Dakasim speaks for many when he says that he w i l l send his son Saalat to school only long enough f or the boy to learn how to read and write, for t h i s allows him to write l e t t e r s and to remain i n touch with friends and r e l a t i v e s who have l e f t Telefolmin for the towns. But once t h i s aim i s achieved, so Dakasim says, t h i s w i l l mark the end of Saalat's schooldays, for unlike some he w i l l be educated but remain a gardener, v i l l a g e r , and son. I t i s when men's thoughts turn to t h e i r c h i l d r e n that the T e l e f o l imperative to labour and industry acquires much of i t s moral force and impetus, for men may not be content merely to meet the immediate needs of subsistence, but must also see to i t that each of t h e i r c h i l d r e n has the nucleus of plant i n g stock f o r t h e i r own gardens and established r i g h t s to land on which tormake them. In the same way, a man's h i s t o r y of c u l t i v a t i o n , the clearings by which h i s t o i l has established claims, become f u t i l e without c h i l d r e n to claim them—without c h i l d r e n i t w i l l a l l be for nought, to be consigned once again to f o r e s t , unused u n t i l some future and unknown gardener comes again to make h i s own mark upon the bush. Children thus e s t a b l i s h a twofold continuity for men's l i v e s , each enriching the meaning of the a c t i v i t i e s of day-toe-day l i f e : work becomes a supremely moral and s o c i a l occupation, with c h i l d r e n providing an immediate bridge between men's r e l a t i o n s with the natural world and the worldt,6f people, and i t i s through c h i l d r e n that a man's work i s salvaged from o b l i v i o n on his death. 149 v i . Men and Women As with many other peoples of Papua New Guinea, Telefolmin f i n d r e l a t i o n s between the sexes problematic and polarized, the focus of a deep, elaborate, and multi-faceted ambivalence ( c f . Buchbinder and Brown 1976; Mead 1953; Meggitt 1964) . Men and women are r a d i c a l l y distinguished i n thought and d a i l y l i f e , and i f t h e i r r e l a t i o n s do not constitute a b a t t l e of the sexes, i t i s nonetheless true that they are f e l t to be i n th e i r very natures opposed. For men the ambivalence about t h e i r r e l a t i o n s with women i s marked by the awareness that women are e s s e n t i a l to l i f e and l i f e ' s p rojects, while at the same time there i s the tendency to devalue the place of women as responsible and genuinely s i g n i f i c a n t actors i n the proper scheme of things. At times i t seems as though w i s t f u l thoughts of a society without women exert a powerful appeal: daydreams beckon of a i l i f e without nagging or squabbles, a l i f e with no j e a l o u s i e s , no adultery, no problems of wayward marriages or d i f f i c u l t bridewealth transactions. Yet the very d i f f i c u l t i e s that women pose point to the brute and i r r e d u c i b l e f a c t of t h e i r i n d i s p e n s i b i l i t y and c o n t r a l i t y . "Verandah-post i n the bush, verandah-post at home...." — T e l e f o l aphorism With these words—s e p bilsak, am bilsak—Telefol men seek to capture and phrase the r e l a t i o n between the sexes. Women are to men as the verandah-post of a garden house i n the bush i s to that of a house i n the v i l l a g e . One i s peripheral and to some extent a s o c i a l , beyond society; the other i s c e n t r a l , of the v i l l a g e , and i n the thick of things. And j u s t as the verandah of a bush house looks out only on the for e s t and the family gardens, men portray women as in s u l a r and parochial i n t h e i r i n t e r e s t s , narrowly devoted to the demands of domesticity. By contrast, the men claim a concern with c o l l e c t i v e a f f a i r s to be t h e i r own proper sphere. Here the sexual p o l a r i t y i s cast i n terms of the d i a l e c t i c between household and v i l l a g e , one that i s i d e a l l y complementary but 150 often tense and antagonistic. As i t i s with the r e l a t i o n between household and v i l l a g e , so i t i s with the r e l a t i o n between women and men. If we look at the f l o o r p l a n of a T e l e f o l dwelling-house (unangam), we w i l l f i n d a r e i t e r a t i o n of the same set of r e l a t i o n s : FIGURE 1 Unangam Floorplan tuul mil-iil dig-iim hong dbiin tuul Tuul = hearth Miliil = men's f l o o r Digiim = women and children's f l o o r Kong Abiin = pigs' f l o o r Most dwelling houses are occupied by two nuclear f a m i l i e s , one to each hearth, and i t i s at these hearths that women w i l l cook for themselves, t h e i r husband, and c h i l d r e n . The men, however, s i t between the two hearths. Here, then, we see women divided by the i n t e r e s t s of the hearth while men are joined together, and i t is.'worth;. noting-thatJ i t . . i s .toithe men's "floor that v i s i t o r s froiruother households (or even other v i l l a g e s ) come to s i t , chat, and eat.^ 151 The a s s o c i a t i o n of l i f e i n the bush with household p r o d u c t i v i t y has i t s roots i n the form of T e l e f o l a g r i c u l t u r e , which requires that people invest time and labour i n t h e i r f o r e s t gardens. These gardens are generally at some remove from the v i l l a g e , and i t i s i n t h i s context that men's ass o c i a t i o n with women and c h i l d r e n i s most intense. In th i s f a c t we f i n d that the linkage of women with the bush i s not only a metaphorical encoding of domestic i n s u l a r i t y — i t also hints at the r e a l i t y that the bush i s where couples indulge i n sexual r e l a t i o n s , where the r e l a t i o n of husband and wife i s not immediately juxtaposed with the competing claims of s o c i a b i l i t y between men. In a l l of t h i s men are l i a b l e to see a too assiduous devotion to ga r d e n i n g — e s p e c i a l l y i f i t involves theuneglect of f r i e n d l y p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the l i f e of the v i l l a g e — a s an i n d i c a t i o n of a man's uxoriousness. The problem, f o r T e l e f o l men, i s that as husband and father they must attend to the needs of t h e i r f a m i l i e s , but th i s must not outweigh t h e i r o b l i g a t i o n as men to take part i n the a f f a i r s of the community. Where these opposed p u l l s and tugs of o b l i g a t i o n come into c o n f l i c t men are l i k e l y to blame women, arguing that prolonged absences i n the bush are the r e s u l t of men's v u l n e r a b i l i t y to th e i r wives' blandishments and charms. In the process men r e a l i z e that i f a man doesn't share the company of his fellows he i s most assuredly i n the company of h i s wife, and i t i s i n th i s manner that women are viewed as some-thing l e s s than f u l l y s o c i a l beings i n the manner of men. I t i s perhaps f o r thi s reason that older men decry the now common use of blankets. In the old days, they say, men almost always preferred to sleep with other men i n the men's house (yolam), where the press of other bodies assured a warm night's sleep. Today most seem to prefer to remain i n t h e i r dwelling houses with t h e i r wives curled up together i n t h e i r blankets. Whether or not blankets, themselves have anything to do with such preferences, t h i s view indicates c l e a r l y enough the threat women are seen to pose to r e l a t i o n s between men. 152 Though. Telefolmin r a r e l y dispute about things such as pigs' raids into gardens, serious trouble always marks disagreements concerning women. If there i s intermarriage (contrary to the i d e a l of v i l l a g e endogamy) between two v i l l a g e s , i t i s always a d i f f i c u l t matter to set the accounts s t r a i g h t , and i t i s v i r t u a l l y assured that one (or both) of the v i l l a g e s concerned w i l l f e e l smoldering resentment at the loss of women to outsiders. In the past such issues could provide the basis for brawls and f i g h t s sparked by the elopement of women, and in:the;present these kinds of grudges are foremost among those thought to lead to attacks by biit sorcery. And while Telefolmin are remarkably peaceful i n th e i r dealings with fellow v i l l a g e r s , the discovery of adultery w i l l lead to violence even between those who are close neighbours and ki n . There i s , then, yet another sense i n which women pose a threat to society, i f only because men are so ready to f i g h t over them. Given a l l of t h i s , i t i s not s u r p r i s i n g that men complain about women as dis r u p t i v e influences on v i l l a g e l i f e . Discord i s often l a i d at the door of women, and men say that i f i t .... • weren't for women the v i l l a g e would be the t r u l y peaceful place i t i s supposed to be. In f a c t , the peace of T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s i s only r a r e l y jeopardized by adultery. Though doubtlessly adultery i s more frequent than public knowledge recognizes, men take great care to avoid the i n e v i t a b l e t r a i n of troubles that flow f r o m i i t . There i s , however, one form of s t r i f e that i s so common that i t seems to form part of the backdrop of v i l l a g e l i f e and occasions l i t t l e comment: m a r i t a l squabbles. Shouting matches and outright f i g h t s between husbands and wives i n Telefolmin are commonplace, and while men w i l l quite l i t e r a l l y go out of t h e i r way to avoid discord with other men, quarrels between spouses are run-of-the-mill. I t i s not quite r i g h t to understand t h i s as wife-beating, i f for no other reason than that T e l e f o l women are not commonly at a disadvantage and wield firewood with t e l l i n g e f f e c t , often giving as good as 153 they get. C o l l e c t i v e l y and c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y , men account for such tussles with, reference to the weakness of women's thoughts, which i s exhibited i n the r e l a t i v e lack of r e s t r a i n t manifested by women: women are notorious f o r f l y i n g into rages and spontaneously venting t h e i r spleen, i n contrast to the more c h a r a c t e r i s t i c reserve that men di s p l a y . Though men are often advised to pay no heed to women's words, many seem to become ensnared i n domestic arguments ( t h e i r own, never anybody else's) with something resembling enthusiasm. In the case of new marriages t h i s can sometimes r e s u l t i n estrangement, but the aftermath i s more often the disappearance of the.quarreling couple into the bush for several days to tend t h e i r gardens. I t i s too f a c i l e to suggest that such f i g h t s are a sham for the sake of appearances, nor w i l l i t s u f f i c e to say that men channel aggression stemming from other r e l a t i o n s into the conjugal sphere. Although there i s an element of truth i n both these suppositions, my impression i s that the quarrels are genuine and constitute authentic expressions of what i s going on between husband and wife. "Our wives are l i k e our mothers...." —Beksep Relations between men and women i n Telefolmin f i t only uneasily into a v a i l a b l e stereotypes. The r e l a t i v e prominence of quarreling between spouses lends credence to the idea that m a r i t a l r e l a t i o n s i n Telefolmin are a b a t t l e of the sexes, one that can take s u b s t a n t i a l l y physical form. But against t h i s we must weigh the f a c t that couples seem quite ready to make up and carry on t o g e t h e r — a t l e a s t to outside appearances. Here the marriage of Kunilok and hi s wife Sagalfuiten can serve as a caution against too s i m p l i s t i c a view. Of a l l the couples whose shouts and squabbles pierce through the evening quiet i n Derolengam, these two are the most notorious. Indeed, things are so raucous between the two that Kunilok's kinsmen and friends become both angry and ashamed—this has on at l e a s t one occasion led them to seize pigs Sagalfuiten has been looking a f t e r - A number of Kunilok's kinsmen took these pigs into the fenced yard of the men's s p i r i t house (the yolabiip) , where they slaughtered and cooked them; because the pigs were i n the confines of the men's sphere of the v i l l a g e , no women or c h i l d r e n could consume them. This was an extreme measure, meant to express both disgust at the couple's behaviour and to dramatize t h e i r shame at such carryings-on. And though t h i s had the temporary e f f e c t of shaming both Kunilok and h i s wife into a quieter mode of domestic l i f e , t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p continued to be a stormy one. Kunilok's r e l a t i v e s have from time to time suggested that he and Sagalfuiten part, and t h i s i s reinforced by the f a c t that the two are c h i l d l e s s . Despite t h i s , neither of them has shown any i n c l i n a t i o n to break t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p — K u n i l o k has a c t i v e l y r e s i s t e d a l l such promptings. I t seems clear that despite frequent and unseemly quarreling the two of them are quite happy to remain together. When not f i g h t i n g , they appear to be genuinely fond of each other, and i t should be added that Kunilok's exemplary industry keeps him i n the bush often (more often than many would l i k e ) , and i n the bush he i s i n the company of h i s wife and whatever c h i l d r e n they have taken under t h e i r wing. T e l e f o l culture r e i t e r a t e s the sexual dichotomy over and over again, l i k e most other New Guinea cultures, and t h i s takes the form of an i d e o l o g i c a l p o l a r i z a t i o n of the sexes. The men's c u l t complex forms the cosmological and r i t u a l focus of the v i l l a g e , and this i s a male preserve from which women are r i g i d l y and c a t e g o r i c a l l y excluded. A complex series of tabus governing contact between the sexes p r e v a i l s , and one of the fundamental axes of a pervasive system of food tabus i s the d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n between male and female. At a very basic l e v e l men and women are conceived as d i f f e r e n t kinds of beings. But among other things, t h i s means that the r e l a t i o n between the s e x e s — e s p e c i a l l y i n m a r r i a g e — i s marked o f f as a d i s t i n c t area of experience. 155 If r e l a t i o n s between men are expected to be characterized by amity and the avoidance of discord, no such expectation applies to the re l a t i o n s h i p between husband and wife. When T e l e f o l men say that t h e i r wives are l i k e t h e i r mothers, they are affirming a bond between them which i d e a l l y i s not contingent i n the same way that a l l other r e l a t i o n s are, and the delicacy and circumspection of other r e l a t i o n s i s absent here. It i s only within the scope of t h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p that men are f u l l y engaged as in d i v i d u a l s and selves i n dir e c t r e l a t i o n to another, and t h i s i s possible p r e c i s e l y because husbands and wives must not get along i n order to get on. When mar i t a l r e l a t i o n s work well, they seem to work extremely well, attested by odd glimpses of couples i n unguarded moments, as when a husband and wife play tag, chasing each other through the bush. When marital r e l a t i o n s f a i l — p a r t i c u l a r l y unexpectedly—the r e s u l t can be disastrous, and t h i s seems to be the chief cause of suicide f or both men and women, a d i s t r e s s i n g commentary on the c e n t r a l i t y of marriage (see 5 Jorgensen 1978). Though i t would be easy to mistake the public devaluation of women r. and t h e i r r o l e for evidence of male supremacy, we f i n d h e r e — a s i n so much of T e l e f o l c u l t u r e — t h e obvious i s misleading and founded upon something quite d i f f e r e n t , the conviction men hold that women, d i f f i c u l t as they may be, are the source of a l l that i s worthwhile i n l i f e . 156 'CHAPTER. .3 ORDER AND ENTROPY IN THE TELEFOL WORLD i i . Introduction In t h i s chapter I w i l l o u t l i n e some of the basic contours of order i n the T e l e f o l world as both sociology and cosmology. But i n addition, I want to suggest some of the ways i n which Telefolmin themselves think about the notion of order i t s e l f . Anthropologists are understandably concerned with presenting ordered accounts of others' l i v e s since they must, a f t e r a l l , compress and c l a r i f y and reduce the r e s u l t s of t h e i r f i e l d experiences (and answers to questions) i n the form of a text. I t might i n fact be the case that, for p a r t i c u l a r peoples, l i f e can be read as a book. But this" i s an assumption we ought to be wary about. As we s h a l l see i n the next chapter, texts themselves are not so easy to read. In any event, New Guineans i n general have achieved an ethnographic reputation for s t r u c t u r a l "looseness" which ought to a l e r t us to the p o s s i b i l i t y that order i t s e l f may be conceived i n very d i f f e r e n t terms from the elegantly symmetrical schemes of A u s t r a l i a n aboriginals (cf. Stanner 1965, Tonkinson 1974), the hermetically sealed s o c i a l and cosmological system of Indian castes (Dumont 1966), or the seemingly watch-like i n t r i c a c y and balance of Balinese culture and society (Bateson 1972, Geertz 1966b)/''- In these s o c i e t i e s i t seems that order i s taken as given, all-encompassing, and atemporal. Speaking of the " t o t a l i z i n g " conception of order embodied i n the Dreaming of the Australians, Stanner says: The Dreaming determines not only what l i f e is but also what it. can be. L i f e , so -to speak, i s a o n e - p o s s i b i l i t y thing, and what t h i s i s , i s the 'meaning' of The Dreaming. The tal e s are also a c o l l a t i o n . o f what is validly known about such ordained permanencies. The blacks c i t e The Dreaming as .a •charter of absolute v a l i d i t y in/answer: to a l l questions of why and how (1965:161). 157 A c r i t i c a l property of such an order i s i t s a b i l i t y to transcend time, A p a r t i c u l a r l y apt i l l u s t r a t i o n of how t h i s works f o r Australians may be had from Tonkinson's account of the people at Jigalong: The Aborigines do not question the a l i e n o r i g i n of most of the objects they now use. In f a c t , they take the technological achievements;,of Western culture very much for granted. This a t t i t u d e i s at l e a s t p a r t l y the r e s u l t of t h e i r firm conviction that the ancestral beings, as great magicians, possessed and u t i l i z e d much of t h i s technology long before the whites acquired i t . In the case of several secret-sacred objects i n the possession of some native doctors, i t i s obvious to an outside observer that these objects are of Western manufacture, yet the Aborigines emphatically deny t h i s . . . . When these objects were f i r s t revealed to me, amid great secrecy, the men stressed that they had been l e f t behind by the ancestr a l beings for use by the Aborigines and are . d e f i n i t e l y not " w h i t e f e l l a " things.... The men were c l e a r l y aware that the objects looked manufactured, but t h e i r b e l i e f i n the magical powers of the Dreamtime beings i s so strong that they never doubted the truth of the accompanying v a l i d a t i o n (1974:113). This i s the perfect archetype f o r the triumph of structure over h i s t o r y (see, e.g., Levi-Strauss 1966; Leach 1970:112f), and the received order of the Dreaming i s able to gobble apparent innovations and incorporate them into i t s framework: there i s no question here of a challenge to the truths embodied i n the Dreaming, nor even of a f o r c i b l e transformation of such truths. Rather, there i s a sense of a place f o r everything, a place which i s not so much determined by the past as by the c u l t u r a l i nsistence that the order of the Dreaming i s a t o t a l order, one that encompasses past, present, and future i n i t s scope. Because the Dreaming transcends time, anything happening within time i s pre-empted i n the Dreaming. Thus, A u s t r a l i a n conceptions of order are imbued with a permanency that does not so much defy time as master i t . In such a context i t i s not su r p r i s i n g that the chief problems i n matters of conduct turn upon issues of conformity with the o v e r a l l plan (see Tonkinson 1974:70), a plan which seems to have been worked out to the smallest d e t a i l . Here we see an o v e r a l l view of man and the cosmos combined with a sense of 158 completeness and closure, and i t i s the magnificence of t h i s c u l t u r a l e d i f i c e 2 that has attracted so much anthropological attention. Though we s h a l l see that T e l e f o l cosmology has i n some respects the power of the Dreamtime among the Australians, Telefolmin are recognizably Melanesian i n o r i e n t a t i o n and ethos, andjthis means, among other things, that order of the kind found among Australians, Indians, or Balinese i s simply not to be found. Rather than being taken for granted as an inherent a t t r i b u t e of the cosmos, Melanesian order has always seemed problematic and i n q u e s t i o n — and not only for ethnographers. Errington has gone into t h i s problem at length i n his account of Karavaran society, and he introduces h i s ethnography with the following words: S o c i a l order i n the Karavaran view i s achieved only with great e f f o r t . Order i s not inherent i n human l i f e ; i t s presence cannot be assumed. Much of Karavaran s o c i a l l i f e , e s p e c i a l l y r i t u a l , i s the e f f o r t to create and maintain order and to prevent themselves from s l i p p i n g back into a state of anarchy. They see t h e i r s o c i a l l i f e as a continual e f f o r t to tame themselves and others, to channel t h e i r desires and energies into orderly paths. Such a view of society r e s t s on t h e i r b e l i e f s about man and the nature of order (1974:19). S c h i e f f e l i n ' s ethnographic account of the K a l u l i of the Mount Bosavi area has much the same flavour. Looking at matters from the perspective of man's address to the world, rather than i t s o v e r a l l shape, he notes: K a l u l i act i n a s i t u a t i o n as i f they were 'up against . something', l i k e one f e e l s a l i v e by a c t i v e l y asserting himself against everything. The r e s u l t i s that everything i s done as i f i t were part of an eterna l indian wrestling match, where the joy of i t i s i n the struggle not (so much) the win... (1976:120). Though i t may have taken a while for the anthropological community to come to grips with i t , i t i s nonetheless evident that the r e l a t i o n between man, society, and cosmos i n New Guinea has never been a simple matter of a r t i c u l a t i n g with a coherent o v e r a l l p l a n — a s can be seen by reference to the works of ethnographers such as Williams (see Schwimmer 1977), Bateson (1958), van Baal (1966), Pouwer (1966a, 1966b), Burridge (1969), Wagner (1972, 19790, and Barth (1975), Fundamentally, the question of order i n Melanesia has always been a Question, and one to which, man must construct a reply, Replies can take many shapes, hut always have the character of a postulation. i n the context of a s i t u a t i o n that seems to c a l l man and h i s projects i n question. The burden of t h i s chapter i s to ou t l i n e man's s i t u a t i o n , i n preliminary terms, as Telefolmin see i t . Since t h i s i s at some l e v e l i n e v i t a b l y bound up with a statement of what order and i t s context i s , I begin with an examination of T e l e f o l s o c i a l structure with an eye for those features that may be seen to be problematic from ei t h e r a t h e o r e t i c a l or a T e l e f o l view, or both. From there I move to a consideration of the broad o u t l i n e s of the T e l e f o l cosmos as they bear on the fate which awaits men. This perforce leads to a look at how. Telefolmin see time i n r e l a t i o n to the order postulated by T e l e f o l c u l t u r e . I t w i l l be seen that c e r t a i n recurrent themes are evident i n both organizational and cosmological realms, themes which bear upon notions of l o s s , d i s s i p a t i o n , decay, and disorganization. These I summarize under the rubric of "entropy". F i n a l l y , I w i l l examine the s t r i k i n g prominence of tabus and p r o h i b i t i o n s i n T e l e f o l culture i n the l i g h t of these issues. i i . T e l e f o l S o c i a l Structure—T e n u m Miit I t i s common knowledge i n the region of the Sepik headwaters that the Telefolmin and a l l the neighbouring "Min" peoples are the c h i l d r e n of one 3 woman, the Great One, the Ancestress, the Old Lady, Afek, They are Afekman, and t h e i r common ancestry can be asserted by saying that they a l l are tenum miit maagop, 'one tenum miity . But i n f a c t — t h o u g h the d e t a i l s are l e s s commonly known, for they are secret (amem)—the o r i g i n s of most Telefolmin are more complicated than that. I t i s true that Afek he r s e l f came and founded the ances t r a l v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p , and i t i s also true that a l l Telefolmin come ultimately from that v i l l a g e . But i n addition, people are more p a r t i c u l a r l y i d e n t i f i e d with reference to the names of t h e i r own tenum miit, t h e i r 'man 160 source/base/stock'. There are perhaps nine or so tenum mvit names i n currency among Telefolmin (some of which are represented among the neighbouring Falamin and Fegolmin as w e l l ) , but i n fac t these can a l l be v i r t u a l l y subsumed under one of four major tenum miit: Bogelmin, Kayaalikmin, Kubrenmin, and Atemkayaakmin.^ The Bogelmin are Afek's true and„direct descendants, and were, along with the Kayaalikmin, the f i r s t Telefolmin, When Afek was at T e l e f o l i p , she was accompanied by a male dog (kayaam), who i s the ancestor of the Kayaalikmin. Kayaalikmin are named, however, a f t e r nuk kayaal, a bandicoot, and t h i s i s done to hint at t h e i r o r i g i n s from a dog while at the same time confusing outsiders with t h i s spurious reference. Like the Kayaalikmin, the Kubrenmin are also descended from a male dog, but the Kubrenmin ancestor was a wild, rather than domestic dog (dunkiil vs. kayaam). This dog, i n company with other l i k e beings, was one of the Vwuutigin Kasel, 'wild' f o l k from the mist-shrouded mountain at the Om (Strickland) headwaters c a l l e d Uwuutigin.. After Afek had b u i l t T e l e f o l i p they came down out of the mountains, some t r a v e l i n g under-ground along the course of the Ok I f i , others emerging from the cave c a l l e d Waptem. The underground route was chosen because many of them were frightened of the reception they might receive at T e l e f o l i p , and some were so wary that they chose to remain at various places along the route. These places are dangerous and sacred spots (amemtem), v i s i b l e as muddy pools or standing stones along the course of the I f i , and are to be avoided by the unwary—but they are also powerful s i t e s for the performance of c e r t a i n r i t u a l s associated with warfare and hunting (un at), as many Falamin learned to t h e i r cost. The wild dog himself taught (according to some, at least) Telefolmin the a r t of f i r e making by the saw method, which he/demonstrated by removing h i s t a i l and vigorously drawing i t back and f o r t h over tinder held i n a c l e f t s t i c k ( i n c i d e n t a l l y transforming himself into a human i n the process). In contrast to the Kayaalikmin and Kubrenmin, the Atemkayaakmin arose not from a dog or a wild animal, but instead from a woman. This was no ordinary woman, however, but an aanangen, or female bush s p i r i t (though some i n s i s t that she was i n fact a kundunang, a wild amazon of the bush). The Atemkayaakmin originated when a T e l e f o l i p man went into the low-lying country i n Nongkaman with h i s wife, where she was to c o l l e c t frogs while he gathered pandanus nuts. He returned to t h e i r makeshift camp a f t e r some time and—unknowingly—sat down to eat (and l a t e r copulate) with an aanangen who had assumed the form of h i s wife. He wanted to return to T e l e f o l i p , but t h i s woman kept i n s i s t i n g that they stay longer i n the bush since she was having phenomenal success i n fi n d i n g frogs, p a r t i c u l a r l y the atem v a r i e t y . When they f i n a l l y did return together to Telefolop, he was astonished to see h i s r e a l wife there waiting for him. This woman, the Atemkayaak (atem [frog] owner), i s the ancestress of the Atemkayaakmin, who became numerous. Among other things, she introduced sorcery to the Telefolmin, and Atemkayaakmin are s t i l l p a r t i c u l a r l y adept i n i t s use. These are the four major tenum miit that were present at T e l e f o l i p while Afek l i v e d , and each of these tenum mi-it formed the founding n u c l e i of the f i r s t four v i l l a g e s to emerge as people branched o f f from T e l e f o l i p : Kayaalikmin (now comprising the two linked v i l l a g e s of Derolengam and Ankevip); Kubrenmin; B i i l t e v i p (Bogelmin); Falamtigin (Atemkayaakmin). These v i l l a g e s form the dense core of old T e l e f o l settlement i n Ifitaman."' In ad d i t i o n to th e i r d i s t i n c t myths of o r i g i n , each of these major tenum miit has i t s own p a r t i c u l a r r i t u a l competence, a sphere i n which i t excels i n accord with i t s o r i g i n s and fundamental nature. Thus, Bogelmin have an acknowledged primacy i n r i t e s performed for the benefit of taro gardens since they are Afek's d i r e c t descendants—Afek i s the source of taro (iman miit, iman magam). The Kayaalikmin, for reasons that are less c l e a r , are said to be p a r t i c u l a r l y good at rearing domestic pigs (kong).. Kubrenmin have, by v i r t u e of t h e i r a s s o c i a t i o n with dunkiil, t a l e n t and a p r i v i l e g e d stock of sacred l o r e (weng amem) a f f e c t i n g success i n hunting and warfare. Because of 162 th e i r descent from an aanangen.^ the Atemkayaakmin excel. at biit sorcery, though t h i s tends to adversely a f f e c t t h e i r performance i n warfare. A l l of t h i s implies a systematic d i v i s i o n of r i t u a l labour bound up with the four tenum miit, and we can summarize and schematize t h i s i n the following table: TABLE 1 Tenum Miit Origins and R i t u a l Competences Bogelmin 1. Descended from woman (Afek) 1. 2. Originated at T e l e f o l i p 2. 3. Competence: taro gardening 3. 4. Gender a s s o c i a t i o n : female 4, Atemkayaakmin 1. Descended from aanangen, .. 1. 2. Originated i n the bush (low/hot) 2. 3. Competence: biit sorcery 3. 4. Gender a s s o c i a t i o n : female 4. Kayaalikmin ^Descended, from.domestic,.dog. (kayaam) Originated at T e l e f o l i p Competence: domestic pig rearing Gender as s o c i a t i o n : male Kubrenmin Descended from (dunkiil} Originated i n the bush (high/cold) Competence: warfare/hunting ('arrow f i r e rite'.) Gender a s s o c i a t i o n : male This c l e a r l y has the shape of a system of s t r u c t u r a l oppositions and complementarities, and i n the best binary fashion t h i s can be represented i n a series of pluses and minuses i n the table below. In order to sim p l i f y t h i s operation, some s l i g h t juggling of a t t r i b u t e s i s necessary. Thus, descent o r i g i n s are decomposed into ;;d-im'ensio"ns.:of: wild vs. domestic, human vs. dog, and female vs. male. Likewise, r i t u a l competences are grouped under the T e l e f o l categories of iman vs. un (= Taro vs. Arrow) which dichotomize r i t u a l into spheres of nurturing and k i l l i n g . Much more w i l l be said of these contrasts below. For now, l e t us simply tabulate complementarities: 163 1. 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . Human Female Domestic T e l e f o l i p Taro [-iman] TABLE II Binary Matrix of Tenum Jfjjt A t t r i b u t e s Bogelmin C+) (+) (+) (+) (+) [taro gardening] Kayaallkmin (-). C-) (+) (+) (+) Atemkayaakmin (+) C+) (-) .(-) (-) Kubrenmin [pig rearing] [sorcery] [war hunt] What does such a display t e l l us? To begin with, i t i s apparent that there i s a comprehensive and ordered set of contrasts underlying the system. I f we focus on the l o g i c a l r e l a t i o n of various tenum miit to each other, i t i s c l e a r , f o r instance, that the Bogelmin and Kubrenmin are i n some sense polar opposites of each other, while the Kayaalikmin and Atemkayaakmin are both ambiguously situated while o f f e r i n g mirror images of one another. To a n t i c i p a t e matters taken up l a t e r , we can also see the out l i n e s of a conceptual scheme of a c t i v i t i e s i n the same fashion, such that: (a) gardening and hunting are a n t i t h e t i c a l to one another; (b) p i g rearing and sorcery are i n some sense a l i k e while standing i n a mutually inverted r e l a t i o n to one another. S h i f t i n g our attention to the a t t r i b u t e s themselves, we may note several things. F i r s t l y , we can see that while there are male dogs and female humans, the p o t e n t i a l l y possible complements (female dogs, male humans) are absent—here i t seems that (without stretching things too far) humanity and femininity are i n some way li n k e d , while animality (caninity?) and masculinity are associated. Turning to the other a t t r i b u t e s , i t seems cl e a r that the domestic/wild contrast, Telefolip/bush, and Taro/Arrow (iman/un) sets are a l l mutually redundant, forming a consistent set. 164 This i s enough .to demonstrate that we are not dealing with a haphazard or f o r t u i t o u s c o l l e c t i o n - o f tenum miit or t h e i r a t t r i b u t e s , but with an orderly and coherent system. The various d e t a i l s and r e l a t i o n s outlined above w i l l f o r the most part remain as loose ends for the time being, the o v e r a l l point having been made. At the same time, i t might be i n t e r e s t i n g to pursue some aspects of an apparent underlying dualism i n the i n t e r e s t s of drawing at t e n t i o n to ethnographic analogues from other parts of New Guinea. Given the four tenum miit, each d i s t i n c t from the other, but each with a determinate r e l a t i o n to a l l . the others, i t i s l o g i c a l l y (or mathematically) only necessary to discriminate between them on the basis of two binary dimensions, or a sort of "dual dualism". From Table II i t i s clear that a t t r i b u t e s (1) and (2) form a si n g l e set, and that a t t r i b u t e s (3), (4), and (5) form a s i n g l e set. The f i r s t set turns b a s i c a l l y upon whether the ances t r a l f i g u r e i n question was some kind of woman or a male dog. This immediately evokes the notion of kundunang and t h e i r dunkiil husbands. The second set can be phrased i n a number of d i f f e r e n t ways. For now I w i l l take the Taro/Arrow d i v i s i o n (iman/un) as primary since i t w i l l be convenient for the point I wish to make and i s at the same time part of a consciously a r t i c u l a t e d and formalized dual d i v i s i o n of T e l e f o l society, that between iman miit (Taro base/kind) and un miit (Arrow base/kind). .1. s h a l l have .much more to say about t h i s d i v i s i o n i n the discussion.of the men's c u l t . For the time being, s u f f i c e i t to say that a l l T e l e f o l men belong to either iman miit or un miit, but not both, and that those a c t i v i t i e s associated with gardening, pig-rearing, and so on f a l l into the iman miit d i v i s i o n , while un miit encompasses everything associated with hunting or warfare. Resorting to yet a t h i r d table, the four tenum miit can once more be arranged i n terms of t h i s twofold dualism: 165 TABLE I I I D u a l i s t i c Schema of Tenum Miit Descended from Woman Descended from Dog Iman Miit [Taro] Bogelmin Kayaalikmin Un Miit [Arrow] Atemkayaakmin Kubrenmin Though for reasons that w i l l be explained further on i t i s inco r r e c t to understand the iman miit and.un miit d i v i s i o n as a moiety system i n the c l a s s i c a l sense, i t nonetheless accomplishes an exhaustive and dual ;- . p a r t i t i o n i n g of a l l men i n T e l e f o l society, with p a r t i c u l a r reference to r i t u a l and p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the men's c u l t . In t h i s regard, the d i v i s i o n i s analogous to s i m i l a r d u a l i s t i c forms elsewhere i n New Guinea, p a r t i c u l a r l y i n some of the lowland s o c i e t i e s of the middle and lower Sepik region. For example, the Abelam di v i d e t h e i r society into exhaustive dual d i v i s i o n s known as ava, and Kaberry s p e c i f i c a l l y notes that t h i s d i v i s i o n i s " f o r purposes of i n i t i a t i o n and the ceremonial exchange of pigs and yams" (1940-41:239). S i m i l a r l y , i n i t i a t i o n into the men's c u l t among the neighbouring Iatmul i s accomplished i n terms of a dual d i v i s i o n (but one that i s quite independent of a coexisting moiety system regulating marriage) (Rubel and Rosman 1978:46-50). Further examples of dual d i v i s i o n s s p e c i f i c a l l y associated with men's r i t u a l may be found among the Arapesh (Mead 1947, Tuzin 1976), the Banaro (Thurnwald 1916), the Asmat (Eyde 1970), Marind . (van Baal 1966), and the Bimin-Kuskusmin (Poole 1976). One p a r t i c u l a r l y s t r i k i n g c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of many of the Sepik s o c i e t i e s i s that such d i v i s i o n s almost i n v a r i a b l y e x i s t alongside a d i s t i n c t true moiety d i v i s i o n regulating marriage (cf. Bateson 1958, Kaberry 1940-41, Mead 1947, Tuzin 1976, Rubel and Rosman 1978). The f o u r f o l d tenum miit d i v i s i o n , with i t s two dual sets, i s i n t r i g u i n g and brings to mind s t r u c t u r a l features of many Sepik s o c i e t i e s where cross-cutting moiety systems—one regulating men's r i t u a l and exchange a c t i v i t i e s , the other regulating marriage and a f f i n i t y — a r e common. Examples of such forms i n one varia n t or another are to be found among the Arapesh, Abelam, Iatmul, and Banaro (cf. Rubel and Rosman 1978), I t would be s a t i s f y i n g within the aesthetic of s o c i a l s t r u c t u r a l analysis i f the T e l e f o l d i v i s i o n between tenum miit deriving from women, on the one hand, and dogs, on the other, were to correspond with a moiety system regulating marriage. Inconveniently, however, there i s no such d i v i s i o n i n T e l e f o l society, nor do Telefolmin t a l k as though there might be. T e l e f o l marriage, as w i l l be explained below, i s b a s i c a l l y structured according to three c r i t e r i a : (a) a l l r e l a t i v e s within the f i r s t cousin range are prohibited partners; (b) the preferred form of marriage i s by s i s t e r exchange; (c) there i s a marked preference (both i n theory and practice) for v i l l a g e endogamy. But i n the context of marriage tenum miit i d e n t i t i e s are e n t i r e l y i r r e l e v a n t . And though s i s t e r exchange i s i n accord with the pattern for moiety-based systems (or any other system of r e s t r i c t e d exchange), i t can exist without the formal dual structure embodied i n such systems. That d u a l i s t i c tendencies are evidenced i n T e l e f o l s o c i a l organization can be seen by the fac t that there i s a v i s i b l e boundary within the v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p , separating i t into upper ( T e l e f o l i p proper) and lower (Bogelmin) halves. But though there are several marriage l i n k s u n i t i n g these halves, there are as many that do not, and i n any event there i s no s i g n i f i c a n t pattern l i n k i n g Bogelmin to any p a r t i c u l a r tenum miit i n T e l e f o l i p proper (and there are, of course, many Bogelmin-Bogelmin marriages within the v i l l a g e ) . At the same time, T e l e f o l i p i s ( l i k e other T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s ) composed of two facing rows of houses, the southwestern being c a l l e d the Taro Side (iman ito) and the northeastern being referred to as the Arrow Side (un Ho)- But again, t h i s has nothing to do with marriage or a f f i n i t y . ^ To take another suggestive case, the v i l l a g e of Kayaalikmin i s i n fact a double v i l l a g e made up of two linked v i l l a g e s with a t r a d i t i o n of previously 167 Inhabiting one settlement. These are Ankevip and Derolengam, and there i s a high degree of intermarriage between theirs—they are c l e a r l y each other's 8 preferred partners outside of themselves,. But for both of these 'sub- . , v i l l a g e s ' , there i s an even higher rate of marriage i n t e r n a l l y , i . e . , most Ankevip men are married to Ankevip women, and most Derolengam men are married to Derolengam women. Thus, although the d i v i s i o n of tenum miit i s reminiscent of double-moiety arrangements of the Sepik region (where one set of moieties regulates marriage), and although s i s t e r exchange i s p e r f e c t l y consistent with such a system, and although there i s some evidence of symmetrical dual a l l i a n c e , and although there i s other evidence of d u a l i s t i c forms i n both mythology and concrete s o c i a l arrangements, none of t h i s combined i s s u f f i c i e n t to c r y s t a l l i z e i n an authentic moiety arrangement. A l l of t h i s i s reminiscent of Schwimmer's an a l y s i s of the structure of Orokaiva society, where he found that although temporary moiety-like arrangements came into being over time, they passed out of being almost as r a p i d l y : the s t r u c t u r a l tendencies were c e r t a i n l y congenial to dual organization, but (for reasons which I w i l l not discuss here) f a i l e d to p r e c i p i t a t e a d e f i n i t e and permanent set of concrete s o c i a l arrangements (1973:213f). To summarize so f a r : we have seen how there i s a d e f i n i t e coherence and order i n the ensemble of a t t r i b u t e s f o r the four tenum miit i n T e l e f o l society, and that t h i s coherence i s indeed of the form of a system (rather than a piecemeal c o l l o c a t i o n of categories) with a determinate structure. At le a s t a major portion of t h i s s t r u c t u r e — t h e r e l a t i o n between iman miit and un miit—is a r t i c u l a t e d i n the form of a comprehensive d i v i s i o n of r i t u a l labour which at the same time presents a l o g i c a l a r t i c u l a t i o n of the r e l a t i o n s between various kinds of enterprise, This i s given manifest and concrete form i n the r i t u a l d i v i s i o n of a l l T e l e f o l men into either Taro Side or Arrow Side. This sort of arrangement i s s t r i k i n g l y s i m i l a r to the dual organization of men's c u l t s among other New Guinea cultures ( p a r t i c u l a r l y those of the middle and lower Sepik). These l a t t e r are generally accompanied by a second dual d i v i s i o n regulating marriage, which cross-cuts the f i r s t . The f o u r f o l d arrangement of tenum miit i n Telefolmin suggests the presence of such a system as w e l l , but despite evidence of several d i f f e r e n t d u a l i s t i c tendencies i n T e l e f o l s o c i a l organization, no such ordered arrangement i s to be found. Thus i t appears that while the i d e o l o g i c a l scheme of an o v e r a l l d i v i s i o n of labour and a l l o c a t i o n of a t t r i b u t e s between tenum miit i n Telefolmin i s r e l a t i v e l y t i d y and c l e a r - c u t , matters stand quite d i f f e r e n t l y i n the p r a c t i c a l world of s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s . Rather than speculate on "incompletely expressed s t r u c t u r a l tendencies" or the p o s s i b i l i t y of mythic or r i t u a l " r e l i c s " of an e a r l i e r phase of T e l e f o l s o c i a l structure, I would simply stress that the o r i g i n accounts of the various tenum miit postulate an order whose r e a l i t y i s most immediate at the l e v e l of r i t u a l and weakest at the l e v e l of what i s conventionally taken as s o c i a l structure, i . e . , the s p e c i f i c a t i o n of s o c i a l groupings and t h e i r i n t e r r e l a t i o n s i n terms of kinship, marriage, or a l l i a n c e . In t h i s sense, the image or representation of the structure of T e l e f o l society i n terms of tenum miit may be taken as an. assertion of order, rather than as mere description. In an important sense t h i s model than argues on the basis of the "past" about how Telefol society might have been. This point can be amplified by a reconsideration of the i d e o l o g i c a l content and implications of the tenum miit o r i g i n t a l e s . I t w i l l be remembered that at the outset of t h i s discussion I mentioned that a l l Telefolmin may be spoken of as Afekman or tenum miit maagop ('one tenum miit1) because they a l l o r i g i n a t e with and descend from Afek, the Ancestress. In i t s barest form t h i s i s simply an assertion of the unity of a l l Telefolmin, Further, i t implies that t h i s has always been so since the beginning of things. This sense of unity based on descent from Afek has p r a c t i c a l implications i n T e l e f o l l i f e . In the past, t h i s was one of the bases for c o l l e c t i v e a c t i o n transcending l o c a l l o y a l t i e s and i d e n t i t i e s . Thus, 169 enemies of one T e l e f o l v i l l a g e were ipQO facto enemies of the Telefolmin as a whole. Further, one of the bases of p a r t i c i p a t i o n by a l l T e l e f o l men i n the cu l t centred on the v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p was t h e i r common o r i g i n i n th i s v i l l a g e and common descent from the woman who b u i l t . i t and the cu l t house (the T e l e f o l i p ) a f t e r which the Telefolmin are named. More recently, i t was the consciousness of common descent from Afek that served as one of the r a l l y i n g points i n 1975 and 1976 for a g i t a t i o n on behalf of the formation of a separate Telefolmin d i s t r i c t and seat i n Parliament—both of which resulted i n success. At the same time, the existence of d i f f e r e n t tenum miit names with separate o r i g i n n a r r a t i v e s admits that there are d i f f e r e n t kinds of Telefolmin: . f i r s t , the Bogelmin descending from Afek proper, along with the Kayaalikmin who were also present at T e l e f o l i p i n the beginning, but or i g i n a t i n g from her dog. Note how t h i s then manages to assert that there were d i f f e r e n t kinds of people at T e l e f o l i p from the very beginning while at the same time denying the p o s s i b i l i t y of another d i s t i n c t and unrelated being present and contemporaneous with Afek, whose primacy and s i n g u l a r i t y thus remain unchallenged. This permits the recognition of d i v e r s i t y (which, by the way i s a l o g i c a l necessity at some point along the way for a l l accounts of a people's o r i g i n s — s e e Leach 1969:10-11) while evading the im p l i c a t i o n : 9 that Afek was not the f i r s t human. In a twofold sense t h i s l o g i c a l process i s repeated i n the case of the Kubrenmin and Atemkayaakmin. Here, to begin with, the existence of others outside of T e l e f o l i p i s admitted, but t h i s i s only an ambiguous and begrudging admission, since the ancestors of both tenum miit are not f u l l y transformed into humans u n t i l after t h e i r a r r i v a l at T e l e f o l i p : the Kubrenmin dunkiil-ancestor (not only a dog, but a wild one at that!) becomes a man a f t e r he removes h i s t a i l i n the process of introducing fire-making to the T e l e f o l i p people (perhaps also contributing to t h e i r c u l t u r a l i z a t i o n i n the process?); the Atemkayaak, the aanangen, assumes the form of a true woman, but i n fact i s not r e a l l y one u n t i l she becomes the 170 woman she impersonated, i . e , , the wife of the T e l e f o l i p man she seduced (who becomes the father of her descendents, the Atemkayaakmin), S i g n i f i c a n t l y , the founders of the "bush" tenum ytjvirt become true people (and true Telefolmin) only a f t e r t h e i r entry to T e l e f o l i p , and with them they bring new s k i l l s appropriate for dealing with the "outside", whether i n terms of animals of the forest or enemies i n other v i l l a g e s (the un at war r i t e f o r sepwaasi and biit for anwaasi). Thus they both augment T e l e f o l i p and implicate i t i n a wider world. If we step back a b i t , then, the set of tenum miit t a l e s assert that Afek was the f i r s t human, and that Telefolmin are descended from her while saying also that T e l e f o l i p began as an i n t e r n a l l y heterogeneous settlement that was expanded by the accretion of outsiders who became Telefolmin when they s e t t l e d i n T e l e f o l i p . Telefolmin are thus both diverse and unitary at the same time. This proposition i s strengthened by other considerations. F i r s t , men say,"even i f the "bush" tenum miit originated outside T e l e f o l i p , they c l e a r l y intermarried with the o r i g i n a l Telefolmin, and thus t h e i r descendants are perforce descendants of Telefolmin i n the narrowest possible sense. Secondly, i t i s possible to r e c o n c i l e d i v e r s i t y with the assertion of common ancestry with reference to T e l e f o l kinship ideology. Men sometimes say that "Afek looked a f t e r a l l these people, they were her c h i l d r e n " . In T e l e f o l , the word man (or the p l u r a l s u f f i x -min) may be translated not only as ' c h i l d ' , but also as 'descendant'. No d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n i s made between descendants i n agnatic or uterine l i n e s , a l l cognates of junior generations f a l l i n g under the umbrella term man. Further, i t i s common i n the T e l e f o l idiom of nurturing for one to r e f e r to anyone whom one has fed or s u p p o r t e d — p a r t i c u l a r l y i f they are j u n i o r s — a s one's 'children' (man). Because of t h i s , then, there need be no necessary c o n t r a d i c t i o n between the acknowledgement of diverse o r i g i n s for Telefolmin, on the one hand, and the assertion that a l l Telefolmin are the c h i l d r e n and descendants of Afek, on the other hand. 171 I t ' s now time, a f t e r t h i s rather lengthy discussion of tenum mi-it o r i g i n s and the i d e o l o g i c a l scheme of T e l e f o l society as a whole, to move on to a more d e t a i l e d consideration of tenum miit as the basic segmentary units of T e l e f o l society. We may begin by noting that the Healeys define tenum miit i n t h e i r d i c t i o n a r y as " c l a n " (1977:161) This accords i n a number of ways with T e l e f o l usage. People speak of tenum miit i n ways that suggest they are corporate descent groups, e.g., "the Kayaalikmin did t h i s , or the Kubrenmin did that", etc. But as we s h a l l see, tenum miit a x e i n fa c t neither corporate, nor are they groups i n the s t r i c t sense of the term. And though the weight of s o c i a l s t r u c t u r a l analysis predisposes us to see society as a system of segments, such an analysis of the place of tenum miit i n T e l e f o l society i s l a r g e l y i l l u s o r y , f o r the r e a l i t y of tenum miit themselves i s l a r g e l y i l l u s o r y . In order to make t h i s c l e a r , l e t me recount some anecdotes stemming from my early attempts to understand tenum miit. I began my fieldwork i n Telefolmin i n Derolengam, a v i l l a g e that i s said (along with neighbouring Ankevip) to be "Kayaalikmin", In ordinary usage, people could r e f e r to those of Derolengam simply as the Derolengam people (DevoZengam kasel) or as Kayaalikmin. In the f i r s t instance i t became cle a r that the referent was i n f a c t to members of the same v i l l a g e (abiip), i . e . , a l o c a l referent. In the second instance questioning soon showed that there was the implication of common descent l i n k i n g the v i l l a g e r s , When I asked i f a l l the people of Derolengam were of the same tenum miit, the ready reply was that they were a l l tenum miit maagop ('one tenum miit1). So f a r , so good: there appeared to be an isomorphism between notions of groupings; based on v i l l a g e membership and groupings based on descent, a good f i t between l o c a l i t y and descent. But then things got more complicated. I overheard a conversation one afternoon i n which several v i l l a g e r s known to me were ref e r r e d to as Kubrenmin. I asked about t h i s , and people explained that they were Kubrenmin because they were the descendants.~of a 172 Kubrenmin woman who had married into the v i l l a g e over three generations ago. S t i l l being unfamiliar with tenum miit, I at f i r s t thought that t h i s was simply a means of d i s t i n g u i s h i n g sub—groupings within tenum miit—which was p a r t l y c o r r e c t — a n d reckoned then that these Kubrenmin constituted something analogous to a subclan of Kayaalikmin—which was inc o r r e c t , A few more days of questioning revealed that i n addition to the Kubrenmin, there were also Atemkayaakmin and a few Bogelmin (as well as Kayaalikmin) i n Derolengam. What was p a r t i c u l a r l y puzzling was that people rejected the suggestion that the Atemkayaakmin or Bogelmin or Kubrenmin were subsidiary groupings of the Kayaalikmin. There was Kayaalikmin tenum miit, and, i n a l i k e manner, Kubrenmin, Bogelmin, and Atemkayaakmin tenum miit, a l l . o f coordinate status: i t was f i r m l y denied that one tenum miit could encompass another. The confusion continued when I asked several d i f f e r e n t men again i f a l l the Derolengam people belonged to the same tenum miit, and the reply was once more that a l l the Derolengam people were a l l Kayaalikmin. A b r i e f journey I took with Dakasim proved i n s t r u c t i v e . Dakasim was one of those who had been i d e n t i f i e d as one of the Kubrenmin l i v i n g i n Derolengam, and he had t o l d me that he was both. Kubrenmin and Kayaalikmin, and he c i t e d genealogical information to back up t h i s claim i n the face of my scepticism. The two of us walked out to Ulapmin i n the west, where I wished to gather some comparative information on other points. On the way back, we stopped at the garden house of a f r i e n d and r e l a t i v e of Dakasim's. This man treated us with c o r d i a l h o s p i t a l i t y , sharing some recently gathered yet (wild f i g ) f r u i t with us. As we talked, he complained that some Bogelmin had been making gardens nearby, and t h e i r poorly tended pigs were causing damage to some of our host's c u l t i v a t i o n s . Dakasim expressed the appropriate anger and sympathy at t h i s , commenting that some of those Bogelmin ought to have one of t h e i r pigs shot as a lesson, and added that "we Atemkayaakmin" {Atemkayaakmin nogol) would s t i c k together i f they caused any trouble. As i t turns out, no 173 pigs were shot and things remained f a i r l y quiet (not unusual i n Telefolmin), But what was more s i g n i f i c a n t was Dakasim's c l a i m — t o another Telefolmin, not to a questioning o u t s i d e r — t h a t he was Atemkayaakmin, I at f i r s t understood t h i s to be a p o l i t e f i c t i o n i n order to a f f i r m s o l i d a r i t y with the man who had been so hospitable to us along the track. As far as Dakasim's motivations were concerned, t h i s was t r u e — b u t no f i c t i o n was involved, for as Dakasim explained to me when pressed, he was a u t h e n t i c a l l y Atemkayaakmin and supported t h i s (once again) with reference to an ancestor i n h i s genealogy; F i n a l l y , I remember another incident which demonstrated how f l e x i b l e the notion of tenum miit "membership" can be. One man, a notorious sponger from the v i l l a g e of Sepkayaalikmin, had come to v i s i t i n Derolengam and was dropping broad h i n t s that he wanted to eat some f r u i t pandanus (em) , a l o c a l d e licacy. In theory, people of the same tenum miit ought to be d i f f u s e l y h e l p f u l and supportive of one another, and t h i s includes the extension of h o s p i t a l i t y . The man was a Kayaalikmin, and of course the people of Derolengam are a l l Kayaalikmin. At the time of the man's v i s i t I knew that Beksep had some r i p e pandanus f r u i t i n h i s house—but he f a i l e d to o f f e r i t , or even to acknowledge that he had i t . I l a t e r asked him about h i s r e f u s a l to o f f e r t h i s to the v i s i t o r , reminding him of what I had been t o l d of r e l a t i o n s between people of the same tenum miit. Beksep r e p l i e d , of course, that t h i s man was well known as one who l i k e s to eat others' food but seemed never ready to reciprocate. But he added that while i t was true that t h i s man was a Kayaalikmin, Beksep himself was " r e a l l y " Atemkayaakmin anyway. Under such circumstances i t i s clear that the idea of membership as normally applied to descent groups does not apply i n the case, of tenum miit.- Such . i d e n t i t i e s are open to a wide range of manipulation according to i n d i v i d u a l i n c l i n a t i o n under p a r t i c u l a r circumstances. And although the notion of shared descent embodied i n tenum miit implies both s o l i d a r i t y and o b l i g a t i o n , such s o l i d a r i t y 174 and o b l i g a t i o n i s no more binding than the notion of tenum miit membership i t s e l f . I f , i n a fundamental sense, tenum miit are not descent groups, what are they? There are various tacks we can take i n order to supply an answer. We can s t a r t by looking:at a number of the c r i t e r i a usually involved i n the notion of descent groups and t h e i r d e f i n i t i o n . One of the f i r s t things the analyst looks for i s the s p e c i f i c a t i o n of exogamy. In terms of kinship and descent t h i s i s c r i t i c a l , f o r i t ensures and s p e c i f i e s discreteness and allows descent groups so defined to function as units of exchange with regard to marriage (cf. Levi-Strauss 1969). Here, as I have already mentioned, we f i n d nothing— t e n u m miit do nothing whatsoever to regulate marriage, a l l i a n c e , or a f f i n i t y . They are agamous, and there i s no p a r t i c u l a r preference one way or another for endogamy or exogamy phrased i n terms of tenum miit. Another f e a t u r e — o n e which I have not s p e c i f i e d so f a r — i s the p a r t i c u l a r mode of descent reckoning. Although matters are muddled by the f a c t that men say c h i l d r e n prefer to follow t h e i r father's tenum miit—implying that a d e f i n i t e option of membership i s exercised, as among some of the ambilineal systems of Polynesia ( F i r t h 1 9 5 7 ) — i t i s the case that one may l e g i t i m a t e l y be of several tenum miit simultaneously through l i n k s reckoned c o g n a t i c a l l y at any genealogical l e v e l . Tenum miit names are passed on through.both parents and most men l i s t themselves as belonging to t h r e e — o r even four— t e n u m miit. As shown above, tenum miit are not d i s c r e t e , but have overlapping boundaries. And though most men tend to l i s t t h e i r father's tenum miit name f i r s t , t h i s could i n f a c t be a father's maternally-derived name as e a s i l y as a p a t e r n a l l y -derived one. There i s , i n f a c t , what appears to be an agnatic bias present here, but t h i s i s not a simple matter and i s c e r t a i n l y not the basis for d i s t i n g u i s h i n g between degrees or q u a l i t i e s of "membership". Instead, the matter seems more c l o s e l y tied'.to the male-female dichotomy and the secrecy with which a l l aspects of men's c u l t a f f a i r s are shrouded. There i s a great deal of v a r i a t i o n i n the d e t a i l and depth of genealogical r e c o l l e c t i o n i n Telefolmin. Most men are able to r e c a l l the names of grandparents. But t h i s i s not always the case, and some men were at a complete loss when asked f o r these names, while others could i n fact c i t e genealogies of f i v e to s i x generations i n depth, ( I n t e r e s t i n g l y } t h i s seems l a r g e l y to be a matter of personal i n c l i n a t i o n — s o m e p a r t i c u l a r l y good genealogists have extensive knowledge of such things p r i m a r i l y because they made a "hobby" of gathering and remembering pedigrees. Although the names of yolam s p i r i t s f i g u r e i n genealogies, i t i s not necessary to know how a p a r t i c u l a r name f i t s i n to an o v e r a l l genealogical scheme.) Women and chi l d r e n , however, are c o n s i s t e n t l y the poorest genealogists of a l l and few could r e c a l l the names of grandparents ( l e t alone t h e i r s i b l i n g s ) on either maternal or paternal sides. P a r t l y t h i s seems to be because there i s i n fact l i t t l e reason for them to be concerned about such things. But t h i s i s also p a r t l y because c e r t a i n names of deceased v i l l a g e r s ( p a r t i c u l a r l y those long dead) are amem, secret/sacred, because t h e i r s p i r i t s (usong) axe housed i n the yolam, the men's s p i r i t house. Thus, women and c h i l d r e n are s p e c i f i c a l l y excluded from i n s t r u c t i o n i n genealogical l o r e , and t h i s means (among other things) that there i s an e f f e c t i v e truncation of maternal genealogies unless men are p a r t i c u l a r l y close to t h e i r mother's brothers. Women pass on l i t t l e d e t a i l e d or complex genealogical knowledge simply because they have so l i t t l e knowledge to transmit. As a r e s u l t , a man w i l l i n general be more f a m i l i a r with the d e t a i l s of hi s father's side of hi s pedigree, including various tenum miit i d e n t i t i e s . Hence the apparent agnatic bias. At the same time, a man i s s t i l l no l e s s part of hi s mother's tenum . . 12 miit, of which he w i l l c e r t a i n l y be cognizant. One other question to consider i s whether there i s some non-descent c r i t e r i o n that might serve to r e s t r i c t [ e f f e c t i v e ] descent group membership and thus eliminate the organizational d i f f i c u l t i e s posed by overlapping boundaries (see Goodenough 1955). The most obvious such factor i s land 176 tenure. Here i t i s tempting to o f f e r the p o s s i b i l i t y of "core" and " f r i n g e " membership on the basis of e x p l o i t a t i o n of a c o l l e c t i v e t r a c t of land, something equivalent to the notion of a j o i n t estate. But here we simply encounter the same d i f f i c u l t i e s over again, for although named t r a c t s of land are sometimes associated with tenum mi-it as a shorthand manner of speaking, the fact i s that land holdings are so complexly i n t e r d i g i t a t e d and dispersed at the same time that no coherent pattern emerges. Further, informants w i l l speedily correct any suggestion that land i s c o l l e c t i v e l y held: what counts i s a continuous h i s t o r y of c u l t i v a t i o n or pioneering, and i n either case issues turn upon small garden-sized p l o t s normally c u l t i v a t e d by nuclear or small extended family units, Further, i t should be noted that r i g h t s to such p l o t s can devolve through, g i f t as w e l l as f u l l y b i l a t e r a l inheritance, serving 13 to fragment any i n i t i a l b l o c - l i k e pattern that might emerge. In the end, the chief d i f f i c u l t y i n dealing with tenum miitc.as.-~, descent groups i s that multiple membership, overlapping boundaries, the lack of any c l e a r - c u t functions (including exogamy!) makes the idea of tenum miit as groups so ambiguous and fuzzy as to be o r g a n i z a t i o n a l l y i r r e l e v a n t . And yet... Telefolmin t a l k often enough about tenum miit as if they a c t u a l l y did constitute groups. How can t h i s be? Perhaps the a n s w e r — i f indeed t h e r e i i s o n e — i s to be found with recourse to the semantics of the category tenum miit. We can begin by taking each word i n turn. Tenum i s the T e l e f o l word for'man', and (as i n a number of other languages) also means 'man' i n the broader sense of 'humanity' or 'people'. This much i s straightforward. Miit, on the other hand, i s a much more complex term. In i t s most l i t e r a l possible meaning i t denotes a 'stalk' or 'shoot', as i n a banana s t a l k taken into a garden for planting. Indeed, t h i s i s p r e c i s e l y the idiom i n which the term was f i r s t conscientiously explained to me. Further, i t can also mean 'base' or 'source', j u s t as a small banana s t a l k i s the base (and basis) of the future banana tree and the ultimate source of i t s f r u i t . And further s t i l l , i t i s also the source of subsequent banana sta l k s to be planted i n subsequent gardens. Pursuing the vegetative analogy, miit also means 'variety' or ' k i n d ' — j u s t as a p a r t i c u l a r banana s t a l k w i l l produce bananas of one v a r i e t y and no other (as opposed to other s t a l k s producing other bananas), A suum kalom s t a l k w i l l produce suum kalom bananas i n perpetuity, and none other; suum umkan s t a l k s w i l l produce suum umkan bananas i n perpetuity, and none other. F i n a l l y , miit embodies yet a further meaning which summarizes these other meanings: i t i s potency and e f f i c a c y of a p a r t i c u l a r kind, the basis and source of a p a r t i c u l a r e f f i c a c y . R e calling the dual r i t u a l d i v i s i o n s of un miit and iman miit, t h i s means not that the men i n each d i v i s i o n are descended from either arrows (un) or taro (iman), but that t h i s i s t h e i r 'kind' and t h i s i s t h e i r ' e f f i c a c y ' — a n un..miit kayaak ('arrow base/kind man') and an iman miit kayaak ('taro base/kind' man') are men of two d i f f e r e n t kinds, who have a p a r t i c u l a r r i t u a l e f f i c a c y according to each of these two kinds. Returning to tenum miit as such, the phrase has usages which can suggest a d i f f e r e n t understanding of the concept. I f I ask a man what h i s tenum miit: :is (kabmi tenum miit intaben a?),, he.may. answer with one. of ;the. names already mentioned. But he may also ansx^er by r e c i t i n g one of the o r i g i n n a rratives, and these t a l e s themselves are his tenum miit: they are, i n words, his source of o r i g i n (miit). Further, the same question may be answered by a short r e c i t a t i o n of a man's genealogy, and a genealogy i n T e l e f o l i s rendered as tenum miit (or tenum magam). Occasionally people of one tenum miit may be described as of 'one blood' (isak maagop), but often miit maagop s u f f i c e s . S i g n i f i c a n t l y , t h i s can be rendered i n three d i s t i n c t ways i n Pidgin: as wantain ('one line/group/category'), as wanpela as ('one basis/origin/cause'), or as wanpela stori ('one s t o r y / n a r r a t i v e ' ) . That i s , what fundamentally unites people of the same tenum miit i s a na r r a t i v e they share concerning t h e i r o r i g i n s . 178 Human beings d i f f e r fundamentally from plants i n that they reproduce sexually, not vegetatively, And though people t a l k about tenum miit i n a vegetative idiom (such that they can be planted or transplanted i n d i f f e r e n t l o c a l e s or 'ground' [bagan], they can grow i n numbers a f t e r t h e i r kind), sexual reproduction i n e v i t a b l y means that there w i l l be some 'mixing' (kwegamin) of d i f f e r e n t kinds, a n d — s i g n i f i c a n t l y — s u c h mixing c a r r i e s two organizational implications: cooperation, and confusion (cf. Healey and Healey 1977:118). To conclude: tenum mii-t o f f e r the appearance or i l l u s i o n of descent groupings i n T e l e f o l society, but the term i t s e l f i s more profitahlyi.understood as denoting descent categories rather than actual groupings. Tenum miit have overlapping boundaries and multiple membership consistent with a f u l l y cognatic mode of kinship and descent reckoning, and they thus approximate the anthropological notion of "stocks" (Strathern 1977:504). Tenum miit have few of the usual a t t r i b u t e s of corporateness apart from the possession of a common name and n a r r a t i v e of o r i g i n . Organizationally they have l i t t l e immediate relevance, although on an i d e o l o g i c a l plane the ensemble of tenum miit narratives and ascribed r i t u a l competences portray T e l e f o l society as divided systematically i n terms of a comprehensive scheme of complementarities. From a s o c i o l o g i c a l perspective, then, the relevance of tenum miit i s p r i m a r i l y symbolic, for tenum miit narratives assert that T e l e f o l society i s - . comprehensibly ordered as a whole with d i s t i n c t but coherently integrated parts. i i i . T e l e f o l S o c i a l S t r u c t u r e — t h e V i l l a g e One of the f i r s t things that struck Karius and Champion when they crossed the Fly-Sepik d i v i d e was the s i z e of v i l l a g e s i n the Telefolmin region (Champion 1966), In an area of sparse and scattered population they came upon well laid-out groups of houses arranged on an orderly plan. Even today i t i s 179 d i f f i c u l t f o r the t r a v e l e r i n the Mountain Ok region not to be impressed by T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s , and for neighbouring peoples as w e l l , Telefolmin i s indeed the metropolis. But f i r s t impressions can be simultaneously revealing and misleading. Soon a f t e r A u s t r a l i a n administration was established i n Telefolmin another sort of p i c t u r e began to emerge. Administration p a t r o l reports repeatedly bemoan the f r u s t r a t i o n s of t r y i n g to census v i l l a g e s which appear to consist of a handful of old men and a number of houses with boarded-up doors. Others (e.g., .schoolteachers, medical o f f i c e r s , missionaries) have gone so far as to characterize the Telefolmin as "semi-nomads". The v i l l a g e s are there c l e a r l y enough, but the v i l l a g e r s themselves often prove to be e l u s i v e . In f a c t , T e l e f o l settlement cannot be adequately described as either nucleated or dispersed, but i s both simultaneously. In t h i s section I w i l l attempt to show how i t i s that Telefolmin maintain nucleated v i l l a g e s and at the same time l i v e for much of t h e i r l i v e s i n houses scattered throughout the surrounding countryside. The v i l l a g e i s the most v i s i b l e element of T e l e f o l s o c i a l structure and i s the only t r u l y corporate unit of the society. As noted above, T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s , or abiip ( ' v i l l a g e ' ; 'clearing') are conceived as being permanent, and t h i s i s a s i g n i f i c a n t and meaningful point i n Telefolmin, for i f gardens or f a m i l i e s come and go with the passage of time, v i l l a g e s always remain. And i f tenum miit comprise s o c i a l categories whose r e a l i t y i s intangible, v i l l a g e s are v i s i b l e r e a l i t i e s of T e l e f o l society. Though v i l l a g e s i t e s i n f a c t do s h i f t a b i t , perhaps a matter of a few hundred yards or so from time to time, they are nonetheless thought of as fixed i n space and—because of t h e i r enduring p r e s e n c e — s t a b l e over time. Indeed the p r o t o t y p i c a l v i l l a g e , '.' T e l e f o l i p (a contraction of Telefoldbiip, the " T e l e f o l v i l l a g e " ) , has remained p r e c i s e l y fixed since i t was founded by Afek, as indeed are the o r i g i n a l house-sites: the v i l l a g e and i t s component houses (including both 180 dwelling houses and the various men's c u l t houses) must a l l be r e b u i l t on exactly the same spots. That t h i s i s so i s attested by the presence of mounds of up to a meter or more beneath the houses, created by l o c a l erosion over time. V i l l a g e s are the most prominent and l a s t i n g i n d i c a t i o n s of man's presence i n the world. Further, to the extent that c o l l e c t i v e undertakings were made ( p a r t i c u l a r l y i n warfare and r i t u a l ) , the v i l l a g e was the unit of reference. V i l l a g e membership i s generally defined by f i l i a t i o n from one or both parents, though i n d i v i d u a l s otherwise rel a t e d may be v i l l a g e members as well. Though most u s e f u l l y viewed as a l o c a l u n i t , the general assertion that a l l v i l l a g e members are of one tenum miit tends to formalize the general f a c t that most v i l l a g e r s are cognates of one kind or another. An important feature i s v i l l a g e endogamy, which produces a very dense and r e t i c u l a t i n g network of cognatic and/or a f f i n a l l i n k s between c o - v i l l a g e r s . For example, the following portion of a genealogy from Derolengam demonstrates the extent to which such endogamy reduplicates and renews cognatic l i n k s within the v i l l a g e : FIGURE 2 Endogamy and Cognation [Example from Derolengam] 181 As a concrete e n t i t y , the v i l l a g e exemplifies a number of s t r u c t u r a l dimensions of T e l e f o l society. Telefolmin have a d e f i n i t e idea of what a proper v i l l a g e looks l i k e , and the i d e a l image i s diagrammed below: FIGURE 3 Idealized T e l e f o l V i l l a g e Plan UNANGABIIP IOLABIIP (DOWNSLOPE) (UPSLOPE) Key: 1. yolam (amogeen) 2. kabeelam 3. katibam 4 . unangam 5. dungam (am katib) The v i l l a g e , or abiip, i s divided into two sectors, the yolabiip and the unangabiip ('womens' v i l l a g e ' ) . The yolabiip containing the three yolam (generic f or men's houses) i s surrounded by a red tanket (Cordyline sp.) fence and i s sacred and forbidden to u n i n i t i a t e d males and women of a l l ages. Within the yolabiip the kabeelam and katibam serve as clubhouses and occasional dormitories for young i n i t i a t e s and senior men re s p e c t i v e l y . The yolam proper i s the dominant structure of the yolabiip and of the v i l l a g e as a whole. Here the bones of important residents of the v i l l a g e are kept, and 182 t h e i r s p i r i t s (usong) keep watch over the v i l l a g e i n the same way as a mother looks a f t e r her chi l d r e n . In a wealth, of symbolic ways t h i s house i s the c r u c i a l d e f i n i n g feature of a true v i l l a g e (abiip afeeri) as opposed to an ephemeral c l u s t e r i n g of houses. The arrangement of the v i l l a g e i n terms of d i f f e r e n t sectors and d i f f e r e n t kinds of houses—the yolabiip complex for male i n i t i a t e s of various stages, the unangam for domestic u n i t s , and the dungam for women and newborn infants-^-constitute some of the fundamental d i v i s i o n s of the society, which are based on age, sex, and r i t u a l status. A l l men begin l i f e i n the dungam, and with i n i t i a t i o n enter into the yolam where, i f they are fortunate, t h e i r s p i r i t s (usong) w i l l take up permanent residence a f t e r t h e i r death. When the houses of a v i l l a g e — o r , more s i g n i f i c a n t l y , i t s yolam— are r e b u i l t , c e r t a i n actions are performed which give us some in s i g h t into what Telefolmin would l i k e t h e i r v i l l a g e s to be. On such occasions—\>j.z..-!:.•:'.. . p a r t i c u l a r l y i f the reb u i l d i n g of a yolam i s involved—men w i l l gather the eggs of the kwaaleng (or kwaagen), a bush fowl that sweeps the forest f l o o r of leaves i n order to make heaps to incubate i t s eggs. These eggs are broken into holes i n the earth j u s t before the doorway of each house, and by so doing men hope that the v i l l a g e w i l l remain clean and t i d y . Further, the eggs of the kwaaleng are said to have a 'heaviness' (Hum) deemed favourable to the growth of pigs and c h i l d r e n . Next, men k i l l a small r a t , inggat, part of which i s buried at the fence surrounding the yolabiip, and part of which i s buried before the doorway of the facing house at the opposite end..of the v i l l a g e . This i s because one finds ten or a dozen inggat or so i n a small nest, and i t i s hoped that men w i l l crowd together i n the v i l l a g e j u s t as these rats gather i n t h e i r nests. F i n a l l y , the droppings of the ibin, a bandicoot-like animal, are- put together with pig droppings and ashes, and a l l of these things are buried i n the bush. The ibin hides i t s droppings, and men hope that when they have performed t h i s act they w i l l ensure that these things—excrement and 183 a s h e s — w i l l always stay f a r from the v i l l a g e , which w i l l remain clean and unsoiled. By such means Telefolmin seek- to make sure that t h e i r v i l l a g e s w i l l be c l e a r spaces where many men gather and where c h i l d r e n and pigs prosper. I d e o l o g i c a l l y , the v i l l a g e receives great emphasis i n Telefolmin, and i n addition to the p o s i t i v e acts described above, there are c e r t a i n p r o h i b i t i o n s whose force derives from the aura of values associated with the v i l l a g e . Thus, women must avoid the plaza (abiip mat) during t h e i r menses l e s t i t become sodden, muddy, and generally unpleasant. Further, Telefolmin must avoid shedding each, other's b l o o d — p a r t i c u l a r l y within the confines of the v i l l a g e or within i t s houses—and f a i l u r e to do so r e s u l t s i n amwaasi iiban, a p o l l u t i n g contamination a f f e c t i n g a l l v i l l a g e r s and likened to r o t . In T e l e f o l thought one's v i l l a g e i s a place of safety, s o c i a b i l i t y and well-being. I t i s here that food i s shared back and f o r t h between ' f r i e n d s , neighbours, and k i n , and here one i s beyond the reach of biit sorcerers, enemies, and whatever malign presences there may be i n the bush. This i s where one dances and feasts, the s i t e of celebrations and gatherings. C l e a r l y the v i l l a g e i s something more than a mere settlement to Telefolmin: i t i s "home" with much the range of connotations we give the term. But i f the v i l l a g e is something more than j u s t a settlement, i t i s also something l e s s , f or Telefolmin spend a great deal of t h e i r time away from home. There are no Telefolmin who do not have a v i l l a g e as t h e i r home and domicile, but people do not i n f a c t " l i v e " i n t h e i r v i l l a g e s i n our sense of the term. At any one time at l e a s t 30% of the population i s l i k e l y to be spending the night i n houses located i n garden areas. Since gardening i s organized on a household rather than v i l l a g e basis, the l o c a t i o n of gardens and patterns of movement vary from household to household without any o v e r a l l 14 coordination. Absences from v i l l a g e s are of varying duration, l a s t i n g from a day or two a l l the way Up to several weeks or, i n exceptional cases, months. Though i t i s not unusual for f a m i l i e s to spend a few days away from the 184 v i l l a g e , longer absences are not f e l t to be good and may draw negative comment from other v i l l a g e r s . When one of my neighbours returned with, h i s family a f t e r spending a couple of weeks i n the bush, he was immediately reproached by his younger brother for being away so long: who could have known i f anything ( i . e . , tiit sorcery) had happened to him? In order to understand the movement of people from v i l l a g e to bush and back again i t i s necessary to review some apsects of the T e l e f o l a g r i c u l t u r a l system. At the outset i t should be noted that Telefolmin are keen and energetic gardeners. There i s no marked seasonal rhythm, and the cycle of c l e a r i n g , planting, weeding, and harvesting continues unbroken through the years. Depending on the number of people i n a household, each family w i l l normally maintain between eight and a dozen gardens i n as many d i f f e r e n t l o c a t i o n s . Given the system of bush fallowing, there i s a great deal of s h i f t i n g from one area to another as old gardens stop producing and new ones become established. A s t r i k i n g feature of the a g r i c u l t u r a l system i s the extent to which gardens are dispersed, and t h i s i n part accounts for the corresponding scatter of people i n family groups i n the bush. V i l l a g e to garden distances vary .greatly, ranging from a distance of twenty minutes' walk to a remove of eight hours or so. In.the case of more distant gardens i t i s c l e a r l y i m p ractical for people to spend a number of hours walking, do some garden work, and attempt to return again i n the same day. Taking up temporary residence i n bush houses thus seems sensible i n terms of minimizing the amount of time l o s t i n simply walking from one place to another, and most distant gardens have such houses at which a family may stay overnight, The o v e r a l l p i c t u r e of T e l e f o l settlement i s thus one of a mobile population of gardeners whose v i l l a g e s serve as c e n t r a l l y ^ l o c a t e d "base camps" (cf, Burridge 1969:40? Barth 1975:43-4, G e l l 1975:11, Oosterwal 1961). 185 The question a r i s e s as to, why there i s such an apparent scatter of bush gardens, and why the distances between v i l l a g e s and gardens are so great. Two sets of factors seem immediately s i g n i f i c a n t , namely, the system of land tenure and the way i n which v a r i a t i o n s i n the environment are exploited. Rights„.to land are i n h e r i t e d b i l a t e r a l l y , with a d i v i s i o n of holdings between s i b l i n g s . One important feature i s that women as w e l l as men r e t a i n f u l l r i g h t s i n garden land. This r e s u l t s i n a fragmented pattern of land holding so that no two households w i l l have the same set of r i g h t s (or pattern of a c t i v i t y ) with regard to s p e c i f i c t r a c t s of land. A f t e r marriage, even f u l l s i b l i n g s w i l l be gardening i n d i f f e r e n t areas because t h e i r households w i l l e x p l o i t t h e i r spouse's land as w e l l . There i s l i t t l e i n the way of consolidation or reduction of holdings since e f f e c t i v e claims depend upon f a i r l y continuous exercise of r i g h t s , and most people f e e l an imperative to a f f i r m t h e i r r i g h t s by working as many parcels of land as they can manage. In short, v i r t u a l l y everybody i n Telefolmin has a l i t t l e land i n a l o t of places. Again, even i n the case of f u l l s i b l i n g s there i s l i t t l e o v e r a l l coordination since they may choose to;work adjoining t r a c t s at d i f f e r e n t times, according-to the exigencies of household requirements. Thus i t i s the exception rather than the r u l e for a number of households to f i n d themselves gardening i n the same areas at the same time. Each household has i t s own i d i o s y n c r a t i c c o n s t e l l a t i o n of gardens and claims which i s the end product of generations of fragmentation and re-amalgamation as people marry, have c h i l d r e n , and die. This d i s p e r s i o n of holdings i s accentuated by c e r t a i n e c o l o g i c a l f a c t o r s . The T e l e f o l environment shows r e l a t i v e l y great v a r i a t i o n s i n a l t i t u d e , and t h i s i s exploited i n a number of ways. Several broad e c o l o g i c a l zones are named and distinguished according to elevation, which corresponds to a d e c l i n i n g temperature gradient. Each zone o f f e r s p a r t i c u l a r advantages and disadvantages v i s - a - v i s the others. In general, taro grows more quickly i n the lower and hotter diip zone (maturing i n s i x to eight months), but i s also 186 more vulnerable to b l i g h t and r o t . In the cooler upper toli-yn zone taro can take as long as two years to mature, but may be l e f t i n d e f i n i t e l y i n the ground without r o t t i n g . The intermediate dagaan zone o f f e r s a compromise between these two extremes. In addition to these considerations, each zone i s also more or l e s s hospitable to a range of subsidiary crops. Thus o i l pandanus (em) does well i n low country but poorly i n high country, while nut pandanus (dumiin) i s w e l l suited for high country but not low country. I t i s therefore advantageous f o r men to maintain gardens throughout the range of zones from 3500 to 6500 feet above sea l e v e l . Further., t h i s spreading out of c u l t i v a t i o n s can also act as a sort of "insurance p o l i c y " against l o c a l i z e d hazards since t h i s means men w i l l not "put a l l t h e i r eggs i n one basket". The system of land tenure and the e x p l o i t a t i o n of a v a r i e t y of d i f f e r e n t a l t i t u d i n a l zones thus e n t a i l s a c e r t a i n amount of dispersion of holdings and would thus seem to account for the d i s t r i b u t i o n of people i n the bush while also accounting for the intermittent nature of v i l l a g e residence. Yet some puzzles remain. A consideration of changes i n the patterns of gardening through time reveals some curious circumstances. P r i o r to the l a s t t h i r d of the nineteenth century i t appears that the current population of Telefolmin was concentrated e x c l u s i v e l y i n Ifitaman, rather than being divided between Ifitaman and Eliptaman as i s now the case. Telefolmin gained Eliptaman a f t e r exterminating the I l i g i m i n , and the Eliptaman population now exceeds that of Ifitaman. Genealogies from both areas show c l e a r l y how, following the a n n i h i l a t i o n of the I l i g i m i n , T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s sent s u b s t a n t i a l numbers.of immigrants to colonize the new t e r r i t o r y . This indicates a major reduction of population density i n the home v a l l e y of Ifitaman. Further, there was another decline of population i n the 1940's as the r e s u l t of an influenza epidemic. Though i t i s impossible to gauge the precise scale of deaths at t h i s time, informants agree that great numbers of people ( p a r t i c u l a r l y the very young and the very old) died. Census records from about 1954 onwards show the Telefolmin population to be v i r t u a l l y stable with a n e g l i g i b l e increase over a period of twenty years. What makes a l l t h i s curious i s that, for the Ifitaman population at any rate, there has been an extension of the range of gardening during the past two generations. Bush areas that were previously only used for hunting and c o l l e c t i n g are now dotted with garden c l e a r i n g s . Informants deny that land shortage i s the motivation for cl e a r i n g new tr a c t s of bush, and given the demographic i n d i c a t i o n s , t h i s must be so. The point i s accentuated by the presence of t r a c t s l y i n g r e l a t i v e l y near the v i l l a g e s that appear to be primary forest but are i n fact o l d gardening areas that have been uncultivated f o r over a generation (also noted by G i l l i a r d 1954). In short, while people are making gardens farther and farther away, t h i s cannot be i n response to a shortage of land l y i n g nearer at hand. The net e f f e c t of the pioneering extension of gardening has been to increase the average distances between v i l l a g e s and gardens. I t i s d i f f i c u l t to p i n down the reasons f o r t h i s , but i t i s cl e a r that t h i s process i s not dictated by e c o l o g i c a l necessity. Some obvious factors a f f e c t i n g t h i s expansion include the introduction of s t e e l t o o l s , which made c l e a r i n g primary forest a much simpler task than i n the old days; the ascendancy of Telefolmin over the neighbouring Falamin i n warfare, which made outlying t r a c t s much l e s s r i s k y . P a c i f i c a t i o n since 1949 has made dis t a n t bush areas much safer, and th i s c e r t a i n l y removed an obstacle to gardening f a r from the v i l l a g e . But a l l of t h i s s t i l l f a i l s to explain why people appear to d e l i b e r a t e l y locate t h e i r gardens at what seem to be impractical and inconvenient distances from t h e i r "homes". Let us return again to the ideology of v i l l a g e l i f e . The question becomes: i f v i l l a g e s are so highly valued, why don't people take some care to see to i t that they can l i v e i n them continuously? Why a l l t h i s walking back and f o r t h , why a l l these nights spent i n i s o l a t e d houses i n the bush? 188 One clue to t h i s i s that not a l l garden houses are f a r away from the v i l l a g e s . One of the things that puzzledme as I became f a m i l i a r with the land around Derolengam was the presence of a number of houses situated i n gardens that were within easy walking distance of the v i l l a g e . I eventually found more than a dozen of these, a l l w ithin a f o r t y minute radius of the settlement. Many of these turned out to be b u i l t by men who for various reasons (e.g., wage employment on the mission or government stations) were not engaged i n gardening i n the outlying bush areas, but t h i s wasn't always the case. A l l of t h i s seemed to make no sense, since i t appeared obviously easier to walk back to the v i l l a g e a f t e r a day's gardening than to go to the trouble of constructing a house. Whenever I questioned people about these houses, the answers were vague and uns a t i s f y i n g . One day I accompanied Dakasim to one such house that he had recently b u i l t . A f t e r a long discussion of how pleasant i t was to be i n the bush and hear the sounds of b i r d s , and so on, he f i n a l l y enlightened me. L i f e i n the v i l l a g e i s both very public and very demanding, where privacy i s non-existent and s o c i a b i l i t y .enjoined. Within the v i l l a g e , great value i s placed on v i s i t i n g back and f o r t h , and.this i s accompanied by informal food sharing and h o s p i t a l i t y . This i s enjoyable, but i t i s also burdensome. I f , for instance, one has a deli c a c y such as pandanus or perhaps a marsupial one has k i l l e d i n the f o r e s t , etiquette requires that a portion be offered to anyone who drops i n f o r a chat. This can r e s u l t i n warm, sociable f e e l i n g s , but can also produce resentment as the shares become more numerous and the host's portion dwindles. The reason Dakasim b u i l t t h i s p a r t i c u l a r garden house was that he wanted to be able to eat pandanus with h i s family i n peace. He i n fact had a well-practiced (and standardized) ploy to do t h i s , taught to him by h i s father. In order to evade inopportune v i s i t s he would r e t i r e to t h i s garden house where he would begin c l e a r i n g underbush on the margins of t h i s garden and then set i t ablaze. This, he explained, was a smokescreen which would 189 serve to camouflage the smoke coming from the f i r e he b u i l t to heat the stones with which the pandanus would be cooked. Other v i l l a g e r s , even passersby on nearby tracks, would conclude that he was merely expanding h i s c u l t i v a t i o n and would probably f i n d i t convenient to continue on t h e i r way without dropping i n to v i s i t . Such subterfuge i s common, and occasionally even has a game-like q u a l i t y to i t , I was o r i g i n a l l y acquainted with such t a c t i c s by T e l e f o l f r i e n d s , who made i t c l e a r that I would have to l e a r n these things i f I were to cope with v i l l a g e l i f e — e s p e c i a l l y , as some pointed out, since I had no garden houses of my own to which I could r e t i r e . (They were of course correct.) This example may seem t r i v i a l or f r i v o l o u s , but I think not. Such subversion of p u b l i c l y held values i s a f i n e l y performed a r t among Telefolmin. Men t a l k — p u b l i c l y , at any r a t e — i n glowing and e f f u s i v e terms about the T e l e f o l v i r t u e s of h o s p i t a l i t y , how i t i s that the good man (tenum tambal) i s a man with no possessions because he i s forever giving.them away to."friends, how he i s open to the needs of others and has a 'soft heart' (bet bubul). But there i s an extent to which having a soft heart i n Telefolmin i s , as with us, equivalent to being soft-headed. And while the overt appearance of amity i s c a r e f u l l y nurtured along, most men that I knew well complained p r i v a t e l y — a n d b i t t e r l y — t h a t they were c o n t i n u a l l y sharing with and giving to others, but seemed to receive l i t t l e i n return (compare Barth 1975:26, 38-9). This i s a point which i s both so c r u c i a l to an understanding of T e l e f o l society and at the same time so thoroughly masked that I w i l l spend some time adducing examples i n the i n t e r e s t s of documentation. When Derolengam was struck by p e r i o d i c d i s a s t e r i n the form of a tobacco shortage—nothing makes a T e l e f o l man so glum as lack of smoke— Welagim (a s p e c i a l friend) stopped by my house very l a t e one evening to give me a small bundle of the precious leaves. This tobacco was given only on h i s insistence that I c a r e f u l l y conceal i t from wandering eyes when others came 190 to v i s i t . He was concerned not only that f r i e n d l y v i s i t s might demolish my own reserves, but also that others might enquire as to my source of supply. This could be embarassing and c o s t l y since i t was known that I had no gardens of my own, and simple deduction convinced Welagim that t h i s would seen lead to a round of v i s i t s to h i s house with unfortunate r e s u l t s , Kunilok was a frequent and welcome v i s i t o r to my house, and I would occasionally give him a tineof f i s h as a g i f t and token of thanks for h i s help. Whenever t h i s happened, he would f i r s t c a r e f u l l y s t r i p the l a b e l from the t i n and toss i t into the f i r e i n the hearth. Then he would tuck the denuded and anonymous t i n into the folds of h i s ragged s h i r t , concealing i t with arms crossed over his chest. Thus rendered i n v i s i b l e , the t i n was able to s u c c e s s f u l l y negotiate the p e r i l o u s passage from my door to h i s , where, once safely i n s i d e , he would s i t down with h i s wife to use the f i s h as a garnish for the normal fare of taro and greens. Here i t i s important to note that Kunilok i s not known as a s e l f i s h man, and i n fa c t enjoys deservedly a reputation f o r contributing l i b e r a l l y to others i n feasts or i n evening v i s i t s , From time to time I had occasion to accompany men into the bush to hunt, e s p e c i a l l y i f I provided c a r t r i d g e s f or one of the two shotguns i n the v i l l a g e . Almost i n v a r i a b l y the returnijhome from a successful hunt was routed past the garden of one of the,:party. Here we would pause to harvest some taro to f i l l part of our netbags, which were l i n e d with banana leaves (as netbags often a r e ) . ^ Special care would be taken to stash the possums or b i r d s that were taken so that any casual onlooker would see nothing more i n t e r e s t i n g than an afternoon's garden work i n the bag. Once back i n the v i l l a g e I was cautioned to eat quickly or to plead i l l n e s s (a s u r e - f i r e ruse) i f anyone approached my house f o r a v i s i t . Again, t h i s was p a r t l y so that I could eat my f o o d — i n i t s e l f a g i f t — i n peace, and also to evade the p o s s i b i l i t y that our success would be detected by v i l l a g e r s generally. 191 In f a i r n e s s to the Telefolmin, I must point out that such carryings-on are not a simple matter of s e l f i s h n e s s and are the consequences of the v i r t u a l i m p o s s i b i l i t y of d i r e c t l y denying anything to fellow v i l l a g e r s . Here men are i n a dilemma of sorts because they must c o n t i n u a l l y give to ensure amity, but at the same time there are few means short of the termination of re l a t i o n s h i p s (or violence, which leads to the same thing) to tr a n s l a t e the apparent good w i l l of others into the s a t i s f a c t i o n of one's own needs. While p u b l i c l y avowing the v i r t u e s of generosity among c o - v i l l a g e r s , and while being seen to do so, men p r i v a t e l y f e e l v i c t i m i z e d by t h e i r neighbours who, i n the words of one man, "come together l i k e ants whenever I have something;goodtto eat". One of the main ways that people deal with such problems i s to resort to concealment and deception to evade the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of uncomfortable s i t u a t i o n s , and as wel s h a l l see below, t h i s strategy i s also employed i n c o n f l i c t s that would otherwise r e s u l t i n disputes. Concealed consumption of valued foods allows one to have one's cake (or possum) and eat i t too, and i s the natural r e s u l t of the p u b l i c l y emphasized values of a m i c a b i l i t y and s e n s i t i v i t y to others' needs. This was encapsulated i n the comments of one of the younger men who had been to a town on the coast. There he saw restaurants and lunch bars, and was scandalized. How did these people avoid shame, he asked. They ate a l l sorts of good food openly, i n the p l a i n sight of everyone. What would they do i f a f r i e n d came and asked them f o r some of th e i r meal? The problem for him was not simply that some enjoyed good meals while others ate nothing at a l l , but rather that t h i s was done publicly. For him t h i s was doubly bad, for the diners were also r i s k i n g having to share t h e i r meals even i f they were able i n the process to avoid shame or embarrassment. C l e a r l y , such people lacked common sense as Telefolmin formulate i t . 192 To return to the problem of where people spend t h e i r time, Telefolmin often explain lengthy sojourns i n the bush by saying that the eating i s better there. P r i m a r i l y t h i s r e f e r s to the various kinds of small game (e.g., marsupials, l i z a r d s , snakes, frogs, and birds) that may be had j u s t beyond one's doorstep. What i s i n t e r e s t i n g about t h i s i s that, for the most part, s i m i l a r game may also be found closer to home, a l b e i t perhaps not quite as r e a d i l y . But i n the bush there i s no question of having to share t h i s with fellow v i l l a g e r s , and household consumption i n the bush i s untrammelled by the demands of v i l l a g e h o s p i t a l i t y and s o c i a b i l i t y . Absences from the v i l l a g e tend to i n s u l a t e the household from some of the pressures of v i l l a g e l i f e . That t h i s i s so was t a c i t l y acknowledged i n an impromptu harangue by old '. Atiksep to h i s fellow v i l l a g e r s . He was complaining i n p a r t i c u l a r about how some of the younger men conducted themselves i n the v i l l a g e , e s p e c i a l l y t h e i r tendency to devote an unseemly amount of time and attention to t h e i r immediate fa m i l i e s ( e s p e c i a l l y t h e i r wives) at the expense of more general s o c i a b i l i t y . Here i s what he had to say: "You young ones spend a l l your time with your wives, but our way i s that t h i s i s for the b u s h — i n the v i l l a g e you should be sociable and t a l k and v i s i t with your f r i e n d s . When you f i n i s h eating, you must v i s i t , not fasten the door and stay i n your house with your wife. You fasten the door and eat while others run around outside l i k e dogs. This i s no good. You can't j u s t eat and copulate with you wives—save time and energy for other things!" Here i t i s worth noting that women and sexuality are held culpable for the d e t e r i o r a t i o n of v i l l a g e l i f e , a point to which I w i l l devote some at t e n t i o n l a t e r . For the present i t i s enough to remark that s o c i a b i l i t y and domestic i n t e r e s t s seem to be at odds. The point i s n i c e l y made by a remark made.to Wesani by h i s mother. She t o l d him, "you always have l o t s of friends i n your house". This was generally true (Wesani i s now the Member of Parliament for Telefolmin), but was not meant as a compliment on Wesani's popularity. Instead, old Konungen was complaining that Wesani was neglecting her and h i s 193 wife and c h i l d r e n . When Telefolmin say, then, that the eating i n the bush i s better than i n the v i l l a g e , we must understand t h i s i n the l i g h t of these problems. The theme of avoiding uncomfortable s i t u a t i o n s by r e t i r i n g to the bush i s evidenced i n more dramatic ways. I spent some time t r y i n g to f i n d information on disputes. This proved to be f r u s t r a t i n g because, unexpectedly, Telefolmin seem to dispute only r a r e l y . Things happen, of course, that would i n most s o c i e t i e s lead to trouble and some sort of attempt to resolve i t . But Ttfhile I heard of such events, disputes about them or attempts at redress seemed to be rare. At the same time I was struck by the general sense of amity and harmony within the v i l l a g e . But as my f a m i l i a r i t y with the under-currents of v i l l a g e l i f e grew, I fould that there were grievances and resentments enough, but that they almost never rose to the surface. T e l e f o l society has a paucity of devices for dealing with c o n f l i c t s between c o - v i l l a g e r s . P a r t l y t h i s must be re l a t e d to the fa c t that leadership and exchange r e l a t i o n s along the l i n e s of the "big man" system so f a m i l i a r to.-' Melanesia i s so poorly developed as to be non-existent for a l l intents and purposes. There i s no one with the moral authority to impose settlements, nor i s there a well-developed system of compensation for various offences. The dense f a b r i c of cognation between v i l l a g e r s and the absence of c l e a r kinship groupings which would prescribe a p r i o r i t y of l o y a l t i e s makes i t d i f f i c u l t for i n d i v i d u a l s to s o l i c i t support i n any dispute with another v i l l a g e r . Instead, since everyone i s r e l a t e d to both p r i n c i p a l s where such grievances a r i s e , there i s a marked tendency for t h i r d p a r t i e s to avoid committing any support one way or another. In circumstances such as these, i t i s often f u t i l e f o r i n d i v i d u a l s to r i s k an open breach. In the few cases where I witnessed an outburst between neighbours, there was no attempt made by others to intervene, and everyone went about t h e i r business as though nothing had happened. Such instances are not common, and the i n d i v i d u a l who t r i e s to 194 carry grievances into the public arena runs the r i s k of making a f o o l of himself. I t i s more common for those who have grievances with each other to simply avoid each other. And t h i s i s most e a s i l y done by r e t i r i n g to one's gardens u n t i l e i t h e r a r e s o l u t i o n has been achieved or tempers cool. A few cases w i l l serve to i l l u s t r a t e : Just before Independence Day i n 1975, the v i l l a g e r s of Derolengam gathered together to see what they would do for the celebrations. Wesani, who had more experience with government and the outside world than anybody e l s e , decided to t e l l people what kinds of a c t i v i t i e s ought to be going on for such an event. So he talked about women's basketball, and suggested that men begin p r a c t i c i n g to form a v i l l a g e soccer team. While t h i s was going on, people sat round i n l i t t l e c l u s t e r s chatting to each other. Some of the younger men pantomimed a weight-l i f t i n g muscle man, and Robinok nearly staggered into a knot of g l e e f u l spectators under h i s imaginary weight. Yeni and Onasep were having a mock f i g h t a f t e r Yeni j o k i n g l y refused to give Onasep h i s c i g a r e t t e . In the midst of a l l t h i s , Detukmoosep rose to h i s feet , cleared hi s throat and began to t e l l people that Timogen's pig ate his garden. Timogen was i n s i d e her house, and without bothering to come outside shouted back that only eight taro were eaten, and i n any event, her p i g wasn't the only one that caused the damage. Bufalok then stood up and said that T i k i ' s wife's pig had eaten one of Wesani's gardens i n N i n i p b i l , but that."Tiki's wife had denied t h i s and gave Wesani nothing back. T i k i ' s wife stood up to say that she had been thinking about t h i s , and might replace at l e a s t some of the l o s t taro s t a l k s . By t h i s time Wesani was upset that h i s t a l k about Independence Day had been interrupted, and said that these things were these people's own a f f a i r and had nothing to do with anyone else . Having said t h i s , he turned on h i s heel and l e f t while others continued to t a l k about other things. A l l the while Detukmoosep was standing i n the centre of the c l e a r i n g and t r y i n g i n shouts and mumbles to get others to hear h i s case. He was completely ignored. Dakasim stood up to shout to others that people are always crying about pigs and taro s t a l k s , pigs and taro s t a l k s , and that he was not concerned about such t h i n g s — a p i g of his caused trouble and so he shot i t , r i g h t i n the middle of h i s own house! Then Aamisep said something else about cleaning up the v i l l a g e and f i n d i n g a soccer b a l l . But by t h i s time, people were already wandering away i n twos and threes to set o f f for t h e i r gardens. Dakasim continued shouting, to nobody i n p a r t i c u l a r , that he was t i r e d of complaints about pigs anyway, and would beat the next person to bring p i g trouble up. In the end, Detukmoosep was l e f t standing i n the c l e a r i n g alone and i n s i l e n c e . 195 In t h i s , as i n other attempts to resolve grievances i n p u b l i c , the net r e s u l t for the aggrieved party i s nothing but f r u s t r a t i o n , an experience most Telefolmin can r e c a l l from childhood. If a c h i l d i s demanding or troublesome, a father can simply walk o f f into the forbidden confines of the t/olam, while a mother may simply pick up her netbag and bush k n i f e and head for the garden—leaving an enraged, s u l l e n , and impotentcchild i n t h e i r wake. There i s l i t t l e to be gained by public disputing or p u b l i c appeals for support, i f for no other reason than that the public disappears into the bush with numerous pressing tasks. Pigs and t h e i r depredations are the source of many complaints. One case in v o l v i n g Dakasim shows a far more t y p i c a l response than Detukmoosep's: Dakasim went out to N i n i p b i l (about four hours' walk away) to inspect a taro garden he had planted some months previously. When he got there he found much of the garden destroyed, obviously the work of a p i g . A f t e r checking on the a c t i v i t i e s of fellow v i l l a g e r s , he concluded that Kunilok's pigs must have been responsible. Kunilok had 1; been working a garden only about a ha l f hour's walk away, and i t was known that he had taken h i s pigs with him. Dakasim did not confront Kunilok vrith t h i s , but mentioned his suspicions to Beksep, who i s Kunilok's nephew , (= ' c h i l d ' i n T e l e f o l ) and Dakasim's cousin's husband. Beksep l a t e r t o l d me that Kunilok's pigs had indeed done the damage, and-that Kunilok intended to give Dakasim a share of one of the pigs when i t was k i l l e d . Dakasim was c y n i c a l about a l l t h i s , suspecting that i t would be a long time before Kunilok k i l l e d one of these pigs, while i n the meantime Dakasim's taro was s t i l l ruined. Dakasim mentioned the p o s s i b i l i t y of taking the matter before the administration court, but never pursued t h i s . In the meantime, Kunilok found i t convenient to begin c l e a r i n g new gardens i n Dugunbil, where Dakasim claimed no land. Thus, Kunilok remained absent from the v i l l a g e for two weeks or so. By the time he returned, Dakasim had become ph i l o s o p h i c a l about hi s l o s s : no. doubt bnerof-uhis-own pigs would eventually ravage a garden belonging to Kunilok, and then they would be even. In the meantime, there was no point i n t r y i n g to do much about i t . A few months l a t e r , one of Dakasim's pigs did get into a garden belonging to Kunilok, who made no complaint. Yet another case involving Dakasim and two of h i s brothers serves to under-score the fa c t that Telefolmin l i k e to put some distance between themselves and troubles. 196 This case involves Dakasim and two of h i s brothers* Wesani, the youngest of the three, was at the time a pastor for the Baptist mission, Bufalok, the elder, i s prominent i n the a c t i v i t i e s of the men's c u l t , Wesani began q u a r r e l l i n g with some old men i n the yolam, ostensibly about p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n church services. The old men sat s i l e n t l y , but Bufalok upbraided Wesani for h i s abusive behaviour, at the same time reminding Wesani of a debt he s t i l l owed Bufalok a f t e r much time. Dakasim then intervened, .saying that Bufalok was always speaking harshly to h i s brother W e s a n i — i f they wanted to f i g h t , Dakasim suggested, they should go outside and f i g h t so that others might be l e f t i n peace. There were no further words at t h i s time, and each r e t i r e d to h i s own house for the night. The next day Bufalok set off for some gardens ha l f a day's walk away, where he remained for si x weeks. Dakasim decided to c l e a r some new gardens i n Balamtigin, three hours' walk i n the opposite d i r e c t i o n , where he remained for about ten days. Wesani went to the mission and got permission to carry on evangelical work for two Treeks among the Dulanmin, a neighbouring t r i b a l group. By the time the three of them had again taken up residence i n the v i l l a g e , there was no further discussion of the matter and they got o n — t o a l l appearances—amicably. In these, as i n many other cases, there i s no true r e s o l u t i o n of the d i f f i c u l t i e s involved. In f a c t , i t i s hard to imagine how t h i s might happen, for there are few means of doing so. Instead, one or more of the p r i n c i p a l s seems to "opt out" of v i l l a g e l i f e u n t i l such time as i t i s possible to carry on with some semblance of good f e e l i n g . Where t h i s i s impossible, one of the p a r t i e s may e l e c t to leave the v i l l a g e altogether: Maakis, the v i l l a g e councillor,' was caught i n adultery with the wife of Alumeyok, h i s cross-cousin. When Maakis r e a l i z e d he'd been discovered, he ran o f f to l i v e with Peter, h i s wife's s i s t e r ' s husband from another v i l l a g e and a fellow c o u n c i l l o r . Alumeyok was enraged, and demanded that Maakis return to face him i n a s t i c k - f i g h t , the only t r a d i t i o n a l means of s e t t l i n g the matter. Maakis was p h y s i c a l l y smaller, and claimed to fear for h i s l i f e . Most v i l l a g e r s thought t h i s a b i t overdramatic on h i s part and suggested that the r e a l reason for his r e f u s a l to return to the v i l l a g e was shame (fitom). In the meantime, most of the v i l l a g e r s themselves found the s i t u a t i o n uncomfortable, since Alumeyok kept s o l i c i t i n g people for support even though people were rel a t e d to both Alumeyok and Maakis at ... the same time. For a few weeks the v i l l a g e was v i r t u a l l y deserted while grass grew i n the plaza. Eventually a cash compensation was arranged by the intervention of the Assistant D i s t r i c t Commissioner, and at t h i s point most v i l l a g e r s were r e l i e v e d to consider the matter closed. Alumeyok, however, was s t i l l angry with Maakis, though he 197 promised not to resort to violence i f Maakis were to return to the v i l l a g e . When I l e f t the f i e l d s i x months l a t e r , Maakis had s t i l l not returned, but had declared h i s i n t e n t i o n to permanently l i v e apart. Derolengam was thus l e f t i n the p e c u l i a r p o s i t i o n of being represented by a c o u n c i l l o r who was no longer a member of the v i l l a g e . I t i s c l e a r that there are many f a c t o r s , both e c o l o g i c a l and organizational, which favour the dispersion of the population i n s h i f t i n g homesteads i n the bush. In f a c t , i t sometimes seems a wonder that T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s , whose r e a l i t y i s at l e a s t p a r t l y i l l u s o r y , e x i s t at a l l . How i s i t that a l l these d i s p e r s i v e tendencies don't r e s u l t i n t o t a l d i s i n t e g r a t i o n ? Certain advantages of v i l l a g e l i f e are immediately apparent. Fore-most among these i s the s e c u r i t y v i l l a g e s offered against attack by enemies i n the days of warfare. This was a paramount concern i n the old days, and i t seems c l e a r that the organizational framework afforded by v i l l a g e l i f e was one of the means by which Telefolmin held t h e i r own (and often prevailed) against t h e i r enemies. Even now, a f t e r the cessation of warfare, v i l l a g e s o f f e r s e c u r i t y from sorcery attacks. Old men l i k e n people who stay away too long from the v i l l a g e to cassowaries. Rootless, such people wander through the bush, l i k e cassowaries. And l i k e cassowaries, they may f a l l v i c t i m to hunters (biit sorcerers). There i s a more p o s i t i v e sense i n which v i l l a g e l i f e i s b e n e f i c i a l to Telefolmin. Though I defer a d e t a i l e d discussion'of the yolam for a l a t e r chapter, i t i s worth noting some pertinent aspects here. F i r s t and foremost i s that the yolam i s the anchoring point for the v i l l a g e , the T e l e f o l sine qua non of v i l l a g e d e f i n i t i o n . In the old days, v i l l a g e s sometimes were torn apart by quarrels (most often over women) and t h i s o ccasionally resulted i n the secession of some of i t s members. Often these people would e s t a b l i s h a hamlet around some gardens i n the bush. But what seems to have happened i s that eventually things were patched up and people returned, or else they joined with an already extant v i l l a g e . Sometimes, however, such encampments would be the nucleus of a new v i l l a g e , a true abiip, In these cases, the establishment of a r e a l v i l l a g e was signalled^-and i n the T e l e f o l yiew, empowered—by the bu i l d i n g of i t s own yolam. The yolam i s the repository of sacred r e l i c s (men: :amem): necessary for the performance of r i t e s that under-write well-being for the v i l l a g e as a community, and i t i s also the home of the s p i r i t s of former residents (usong) who, among other things, watch over the v i l l a g e and i t s people. A v i l l a g e without a yolam makes no sense, and a yolam without people makes l i t t l e sense ei t h e r (though some, including the Opkeemin to the southwest, apparently do t h i s ) . The usong are m e n — p a r t i c u l a r l y old men, i n f a c t — a n d l i k e a l l men ( i n the T e l e f o l view), they d i s l i k e being lonely and neglected and abandoned. Though they are not p a r t i c u l a r l y happy about the presence of women and chi l d r e n , to whom they are dangerous and from whom they must be segregated, they both enjoy and require the company of other men. Youths become men i n the long and complex serie s of i n i t i a t i o n s (ban) which introduce them to the yolam and i t s company and admit them into p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n manhood. Thus, v i l l a g e s need yolam, yolam need men, and men need each other and the yolam to be who they are. Apart from the series of ban that require the assembled male community for t h e i r performance, there are a number of observances that require i n d i v i d u a l s to be present i n the v i l l a g e . For example, mortuary customs require the assembly of a l l v i l l a g e r s a f t e r the death of one of t h e i r number, and the members of the v i l l a g e are, among other things prohibited from entering gardens for a c e r t a i n number of days, while the making of garden f i r e s i s prohibited f or an even longer period of time. Likewise, the father and mother of a newborn infant are also prohibited from going to the bush u n t i l a f t e r a s p e c i f i c e d period of time. Though b i r t h s and deaths are r e l a t i v e l y infrequent, menstrual regulations require that a woman return to the v i l l a g e menstrual and b i r t h hut (dungam) during her period, and i t i s also f e l t that her husband should not attempt to hunt or cl e a r gardens during t h i s time. This means, i n e f f e c t , that each household containing women of reproductive age must return to the v i l l a g e at least once a month, Though a f u l l d iscussion of such regulations i s reserved for a l a t e r section of t h i s chapter, they form a set of tabus which serve to regulate conduct, and one of the most elaborate, sets of tabus in...Telefol society governs the consumption of foods of various kinds. As we s h a l l see l a t e r , a number of foods are r e s t r i c t e d not only i n terms of who may eat them, but where they may be eaten, and many of these may only be eaten i n the v i l l a g e . I t i s now time to summarize what our discussion of the v i l l a g e shows so f a r . To begin with, we can note that the v i l l a g e i s the only t r u l y corporate element of T e l e f o l society, and to the extent that the s o c i e t y can be conceived as made up of segments, these segments are v i l l a g e s . The v i l l a g e i n Telefolmin i s endowed with a number of i d e o l o g i c a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t features, including permanence, secu r i t y , and the presence of a yolam for i n i t i a t e d men and a dungam for women of childbearing age. Further, the v i l l a g e i s the scene of T e l e f o l s o c i a l i t y , most evident i n the plaza or c l e a r i n g towards which a l l houses face. This i s the abiip mat, the v i l l a g e 'stomach' or 'middle', and i t i s here that domestic pigs are slaughtered and d i s t r i b u t e d at p e r i o d i c feasts, and i t i s also here that people decorate themselves and dance by f i r e l i g h t . F i n a l l y , the members of a v i l l a g e are a l l said to be of one tenum miit, an a s s e r t i o n that implies a unity i n terms of o r i g i n s and suggests that i n some way or another a l l v i l l a g e r s are kinsmen. And though, as we have already seen, tenum miit i d e n t i t i e s are more p r o f i t a b l y understood as i d e o l o g i c a l categories than true groupings, the f a c t i s that v i r t u a l l y a l l v i l l a g e r s are cognates of one another and can demonstrate such r e l a t i o n s h i p s with recourse to genealogy i f pressed. This, i n turn, i s l a r g e l y a r e f l e c t i o n of the p r a c t i c e of v i l l a g e endogamy which both renews and r e p l i c a t e s a complex web of cognation within the v i l l a g e , 200 Having noted a l l these things, however, i t i s also necessary to point out that T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s face a number of d i f f i c u l t i e s that seemingly c a l l t h e i r s t r u c t u r a l i n t e g r i t y into question. The most obvious evidence of t h i s i s the f a c t that the component households of the v i l l a g e are almost never i n continuous residence i n the v i l l a g e . Instead, most people spend ; . t : . . considerable amounts of time l i v i n g i n i s o l a t e d bush houses located near f a r -flung gardens. From the point of view of an o v e r a l l settlement pattern, then, t h i s r e f l e c t s a "two-tiered".pattern of settlement, one permanent and nucleated (the v i l l a g e ) , the other s h i f t i n g and dispersed. While t h i s i s to a c e r t a i n extent consistent with the l o c a l regime of s h i f t i n g c u l t i v a t i o n i n a varied and d i f f e r e n t i a t e d p h y s i c a l environment, such considerations w i l l not s u f f i c e to explain the existence of such a pattern. In addition, we must consider a system of land tenure that serves to fragment holdings and m i l i t a t e against the formation of coherent c o l l e c t i v e patterns of land e x p l o i t a t i o n . And while i t i s tempting to postulate land shortage as a f a c t o r to explain the T e l e f o l tendency to expand the range of c u l t i v a t i o n (and hence, the distance from v i l l a g e to garden), a cursory inspection of the demographic and agrarian h i s t o r y of Telefolmin shows that land i s , i f anything, abundant rather than scarce (at l e a s t over the l a s t several decades of T e l e f o l h i s t o r y ) . S h i f t i n g our attention from e c o l o g i c a l to organizational and s t r u c t u r a l features, the picture becomes cl e a r e r . The two t i e r s evident i n settlement pattern correspond to two t i e r s of T e l e f o l s o c i a l structure: the household, on the one hand,, and the v i l l a g e , on the other. One aspect of great importance to our understanding of T e l e f o l s o c i e t y — a n d a p o t e n t i a l l y important t h e o r e t i c a l point as w e l l - — i s that while the r e l a t i o n of household to v i l l a g e i s b a s i c a l l y one of incorporation, such that the v i l l a g e subsumes various households within i t s scope, t h i s incorporation seems to be :r .. problematic. Instead of the general.sort of "merging" or "nesting" r e l a t i o n generally expected between higher and lower order units i n a segmentary model, the r e l a t i o n between household and v i l l a g e i n T e l e f o l society displays a d i a l e c t i c a l character, a n d — a t l e a s t from the standpoint of food d i s t r i b u t i o n and consumption—may be seen as a r e l a t i o n fraught with tension and contr a d i c t i o n . Thus, for instance, men are i n the p o s i t i o n of being expected to provide open-handed generosity to v i s i t o r s from other households (such v i s i t o r s i n v a r i a b l y being other men), while at the same time they are obliged to look a f t e r the i n t e r e s t s of t h e i r own household. Here we fi n d the _ outlines of a deep ambivalence manifested i n a diverse range of domains of T e l e f o l c u l t u r e . For now i t w i l l s u f f i c e to draw together some of the strands 16 of t h i s s i t u a t i o n i n terms of a b r i e f statement of opposed dimensions: Though I w i l l elaborate on some of these oppositions i n the next two sections, another look at some of the more v i s i b l e aspects of the T e l e f o l v i l l a g e plan w i l l serve to underscore some of the s a l i e n t features of the scheme. menstrual and b i r t h house, the dungam. As noted, the dungam stands beyond and outside the oval of inward-facing dwelling houses (unangam), and i s i n fact on the very margins of the bush and no longer, s t r i c t l y speaking, within the abiip i t s e l f , which means both ' v i l l a g e ' and 'cle a r i n g ' . Telefolmin are normally scrupulous about keeping the c l e a r i n g i t s e l f free of grasses and stray seedlings, but the dungam i s almost i n v a r i a b l y surrounded by grass. It s p o s i t i o n i s c l e a r l y marginal (pr l i m i n a l ) between bush and v i l l a g e , a point of some s i g n i f i c a n c e since i t i s the place o f \ b i r t h arid point of entry f o r a l l c h i l d r e n into T e l e f o l society. But from the point of view of the abiip i t s e l f , the dungam i s already located i n the bush (sep) and people w i l l V i l l a g e Centre S o c i a l i t y C o l l e c t i v i t y P u b l i c i t y Constraint Men versus Bush (Garden) Periphery Domesticity I n d i v i d u a l i t y Privacy Autonomy Women and Children We may s t a r t with a consideration of the l o c a t i o n of the women's 202 i n d i c a t e t h i s i n everyday speech, Though the reasons for t h i s p a r t i c u l a r l o c a t i o n need not detain us here, we can see that i t e f f e c t s i n a p a r t i c u l a r l y concrete form the as s o c i a t i o n of femininity ( e s p e c i a l l y with regard to c h i l d -bearing capacities) with the bush and the periphery. This aspect i s further reinforced by an a r c h i t e c t u r a l p e c u l i a r i t y of dungam, since they alone of a l l the houses have only a s i n g l e h e a r t h — a l l T e l e f o l dwelling houses and c u l t houses have twin hearths. That t h i s i s a c e n t r a l notion for Telefolmin can be observed not only by an inspection of houses, but also by watching young g i r l s "play house": each sets up a l i t t l e clay hearth i n which they cook imaginary or r e a l food, so that i t may be exchanged, and i n each case the g i r l s p a i r o f f and arrange;:such play hearths i n twos. But the single hearth i n the dungam i s explained—perhaps i n too f a c i l e a manner—by saying simply that a woman goes to the dungam alone, not i n the company of others. I n t e r e s t i n g l y , the only other house form i n Telefolmin that has only a single hearth i s the bush house isebam) that i n d i v i d u a l f a m i l i e s make near t h e i r f orest gardens, and t h i s i s explained by saying that only one hearth i s needed since only one family w i l l use the house. In the case of the dungam we can see i n such d e t a i l s the concrete expression of some of the dimensions outlined above i n the linkage of femininity (and the most extreme state of childhood, infancy) with a s p a t i a l l y p e r i p h e r a l l o c a t i o n (said to be sep, the 'bush') and the most extreme form of i s o l a t i o n and privacy, since the dungam i s the only T e l e f o l house form that i s re g u l a r l y and normatively occupied by a si n g l e i n d i v i d u a l at a time. When we s h i f t our attention to the ordering and arrangement of dwelling houses (unangam) per se, we f i n d s i m i l a r notions r e i t e r a t e d and amplified. (Here i t may aid the reader to r e f e r to the diagram of the unangam f l o o r plan, 'Fig. 1 above.') At the outset we can r e c a l l that the dwelling house i s marked by a concentric f l o o r p l a n i n which the adult men (normally two) of each component household occupy the centre (miZiil, 'central/male f l o o r area') between the twin hearths, while the next concentric zone outside i s the area immediately beyond the hearths, the women's f l o o r (digim) , which they share with c h i l d r e n and domestic pigs at the outermost edges. This concentric scheme thus implies a gradient of s o c i a l beings moving from the centre to the periphery: men women -> c h i l d r e n domestic pigs. Though I w i l l do no more than note t h i s f o r now, t h i s gradient suggests a quasi-h i e r a r c h i c a l arrangement along a dimension of d e c l i n i n g s o c i a l i t y . P a r e n t h e t i c a l l y , we might note that such a scheme of arrangement seems to be widespread i n New Guinea, recognizable variants of which are to be found among the Ok-speaking S i b i l peoples (Pouwer 1964, 1966b; Brongersma and Venema 1962: Plate 4, pp. 88f), the Umeda of the Waina-Sowanda area ( G e l l 1975), and the K a l u l i and Etoro of the Mount Bosavi region ( S c h i e f f e l i n 1976:33, K e l l y 1976: 38). Further, the T e l e f o l arrangement also encodes the themes of c o l l e c t i v i t y / s o c i a l i t y and i n d i v i d u a l i t y / d o m e s t i c i t y since the men (though they are of d i f f e r e n t households) s i t and eat together, while the women (and th e i r charges, the pigs and children) are apart and conduct t h e i r own tasks of cooking and feeding separately. The same ideas are i n evidence from a b r i e f examination of the v i l l a g e as a whole. Dwelling houses, i t w i l l be r e c a l l e d , are termed unangam, 'women houses', and the portion of the v i l l a g e set apart f o r dwellings i s known as the unangabiip, the 'women's v i l l a g e ' . This stands i n opposition to the men's sector, the yolabiip, which i s bounded and contained withinaa red cordyline fence (tobaadaam). Here we may simply note that the unangam of the v i l l a g e i n fac t tend to surround the yolabiip. More evidently, the dwelling houses are both numerous and separate, are f i r s t and foremost domestic structures belonging only to the occupants, while the houses within the yolabiip belong to the (male) community as a whole, and cannot be said to belong to any i n d i v i d u a l . Men are quite conscious of t h i s , and i n fac t explain one a r c h i t e c t u r a l p e c u l i a r i t y of the yolam i n such terms. Though most 204 of the b a s i c s of yolam and unangam c o n s t r u c t i o n are v i r t u a l l y i d e n t i c a l , there i s one d i f f e r e n c e that cannot be accounted f o r i n terms of p r a c t i c a l i t i e s , but must i n s t e a d be understood i n terms of the i d e o l o g i c a l r e l a t i o n between the two. The e x t e r i o r w a l l s of unangam are c a l l e d am utuu, and c o n s i s t of lashed s p l i t timbers. By c o n t r a s t , the w a l l s of a l l yolam are made of a continuous row of u n s p l i t timbers which are i n f a c t houseposts (am kun, 'house bone/ s t r e n g t h ' ) . P a r t of t h i s r e f e r s to the n o t i o n that the yolam i s seen as the r e p o s i t o r y and source of the c o l l e c t i v e s t r e n g t h of the v i l l a g e . But w i t h reference to the co n t r a s t between the yolam and the unangam, men poin t out that the yolam i s whole (aligum, 'complete, a l l ' ) w h i l e the unangam are many and separate, or d i v i d e d (taggng). To r e t u r n to our o v e r a l l understanding of the v i l l a g e i n T e l e f o l s o c i a l s t r u c t u r e , we now see that i t i s founded on the c o n t r a d i c t i o n between the r a t h e r i n s u l a r and narrow i n t e r e s t s of households and the broader i n t e r e s t s of community as a whole. This i s evident at the l e v e l of the experiences of everyday l i f e , e s p e c i a l l y i n terms of food sharing and h o s p i t a l i t y . But i t i s a l s o c l e a r that t h i s r e l a t i o n of o p p o s i t i o n goes beyond the unformulated s t u f f of experience and i s embodied and encoded i n the i d e o l o g i c a l l y ordered and co n c r e t e l y manifest arrangement of l i v i n g spaces w i t h i n the v i l l a g e . F u r t h e r , the household t i e r i s i d e n t i f i e d i d e o l o g i c a l l y .(.and, p r a c t i c a l l y ) w i t h the bush, and a l l of these are l i n k e d i n some way w i t h women. In o r g a n i z a t i o n a l terms, then, we have a t e n s i o n between the autonomy of the household and the c o l l e c t i v i t y of the v i l l a g e , and t h i s i s r e s t a t e d on an a x i s a l i g n i n g men w i t h community i n t e r e s t s . Here the sexual dichotomy, which i s always h e a v i l y marked i n New Guinea, becomes a s o r t of s t r u c t u r a l fulcrum upon which the o r g a n i z a t i o n a l t e n s i o n between c e n t r i c i t y and d i s p e r s i o n , i n t e g r a t i o n and f i s s i o n turns. (And, as i s a l s o common throughout New Guinea, the women a r e — p u b l i c l y at l e a s t — t i e d to the n e g a t i v e l y weighted s i d e of t h i n g s ) . 205 To return to the consideration of d i s p u t e s — o r rather, t h e i r s t r i k i n g absence—the T e l e f o l v i l l a g e seems to o f f e r a p l a c i d aspect, free of wrangling and discord, but t h i s i s i n fa c t a c a r e f u l l y .nurtured i l l u s i o n , accomplished through what i s i n e f f e c t s l e i g h t of hand. This juggling act requires a c e r t a i n amount of s o c i a l d e x t e r i t y , and Telefolmin are i n f a c t consummately t a c t f u l and circumspect i n t h e i r dealings with fellow v i l l a g e r s . The chief mechanism by which disputes remain i n v i s i b l e i s , as i n the Chinese proverb, through forbearance, forbearance, and more forbearance as people resort to s i l e n c e , extended absences, and general avoidance i n order to distance themselves from sources of grievance and unpleasant or shameful scenes. Here, then, we see that v i l l a g e harmony i s achieved not through the f o r c i n g or r e s o l u t i o n of issues, but instead through concealment. And while on one l e v e l t h i s may serve to strengthen the v i l l a g e i n so far as i t banishes and exorcises open c o n f l i c t from the v i l l a g e arena, i t does so at the expense of f o s t e r i n g and augmenting the very process of dispersion and s c a t t e r i n g which threatens the v i l l a g e from other quarters. Thus i t i s possible to see that T e l e f o l society i s forever caught between dispersion and aggregation, and that paradoxically, the v i l l a g e i s i t s e l f the source of i t s greatest d i f f i c u l t i e s . V i l l a g e s o l i d a r i t y i s then to a c e r t a i n extent mythical, and given t h i s , i t i s perhaps appropriate that so much of i t s d e f i n i t i o n hinges upon the world of men's r i t u a l and t h e i r exclusive preserve, secret myths. The truth of the matter i s that Telefolmin cannot l i v e i n v i l l a g e s , yet they can't l i v e without them. i v . Organizational Aspects of Entropy The previous two sections have shown c e r t a i n features of T e l e f o l s o c i a l structure to be problematic. At the plane of ideology, for instance, tenum miit o f f e r the appearance of a splendidly comprehensive and systematic s o c i e t a l d i v i s i o n of l a b o u r — c e r t a i n l y enough to warm the cockles of any s t r u c t u r a l i s t ' s heart. At the same time, however, t h i s scheme turns out to be deceptive and i l l u s o r y on the organizational l e v e l because the tenum miit overlap and merge into one another so that i t i s impossible to d i s t i n g u i s h one from another except at the l e v e l of n a r r a t i v e . As s o c i a l groups they simply do not e x i s t (see Wagner 1974). With reference to the v i l l a g e we f i n d a c l e a r l y demarcable s o c i a l group, but again c e r t a i n problems a r i s e , f o r despite a heavily .concentric o r i e n t a t i o n (cf. Pouwer 1966a), there i s a strong dispersive and c e n t r i f u g a l tendency i n the actual pattern of T e l e f o l settlement. On the one hand we begin with an image of d i s t i n c t e n t i t i e s {tenum miit) that appear to co l l a p s e into one another, and on the other we have a s o l i d a r y and unitary e n t i t y (the abiip) which seems on a d a i l y basis to be on the verge of fragmentation, disorganization, and evanescence. And though T e l e f o l society seems i n f a c t to have been f a i r l y stable-—perhaps even remarkably so i n the general run of New Guinea s o c i e t i e s — t h e r e i s nonetheless the sense that things are i n a jumble and could become even more so. This sense i s part of what I have i n mind when I use the word "entropy", In t h i s section I w i l l show how, i n organizational realms, we can see entropy and attempts to deal with i t i n T e l e f o l l i f e . Here I would l i k e to i l l u s t r a t e the problem i n a consideration of r e c i p r o c i t y — p a r t i c u l a r l y i n terms of women and marriage arrangements—in T e l e f o l society. Marriage i n Telefolmin i s seen expressly i n terms of r e c i p r o c i t i e s . Discussions of marriage are almost always phrased i n terms of the giving or re c e i v i n g of women, and many of the d e t a i l s of marriage arrangements focus upon the ways i n which the bestowal of a woman (cf. Craig 1969) i s to be reciprocated. I d e a l l y , a woman given i n marriage represents a loss to her near k i n (isak atok, 'blood part') that can only t r u l y be made good by the receipt of a woman i n return. Such marriages are termed unang abu, 'woman exchange/reciprocation'. Abu also has the meaning of 'bearing' or 'reproducing', as i n the sense of 'bearing f r u i t ' or 'coming to f r u i t i o n ' (the idiom r e f e r s most s p e c i f i c a l l y to f r u i t i n g trees-see Healey. and Healey 1977;4), This conveys the sense of s a t i s f y i n g completion when such, an exchange i s suc c e s s f u l l y concluded, and we can also see from t h i s view how r e c i p r o c i t i e s C a n be seen i n terms of the same metaphor; something given i s l i k e the act of seeding, as i t were, a r e l a t i o n s h i p that only bears f r u i t when what i s given has been returned. Telefolmin extend t h i s metaphor i n a standard rebuke offered young men who seem to be seeking wives where they have no claims based on previous marriages: "go and follow your own tol f r u i t (kalapmi tol aboldiim uyo feen undid)". The tol i s a reddish f r u i t which s p l i t s and drops i t s seed when r i p e , and a young man interested i n marrying would be well advised to chase up the seeds of hi s own tol f r u i t , that i s , to seek a woman from people to whom he has given one. This scheme corresponds i n formal terms with s i s t e r exchange or what Levi-Strauss has termed d i r e c t or r e s t r i c t e d exchange ( 1 9 6 9 ) . One of the properties of such a system i s that ( i d e a l l y , at any rate) wife givers and wife takers are symmetrically r e l a t e d and are i n a state of formal equivalence v i s - a - v i s each other, since each receives from the other what they have given. Here we may note that Telefolmin, i n common with other New Guinea peoples, place great value on moral equivalence (Burridge 1 9 6 9 , Read 1 9 5 5 ) , and t h i s i s p a r t i c u l a r l y marked i n r e c i p r o c i t i e s of a l l kinds. In addi t i o n to symmetry, such forms of marriage are also characterized by an i m p l i c i t dualism; i n t h e o r e t i c a l terms the system requires only two pa r t i e s to the exchange (giver/ receiver and r e c e i v e r / g i v e r ) . This c a r r i e s with i t not only the im p l i c a t i o n of balance but also of closure, for unlike systems of i n d i r e c t or generalized exchange (where any two par t i e s may be either wife taker or wife giver v i s - a - v i s each other, but not both) the e n t i r e transaction can be completed without recourse to a t h i r d party to supply the replacement for a woman given i n marriage. These features can be i l l u s t r a t e d simply i n the following diagram: 208 FIGURE 4' I I Sister"" Exchange Here we might draw att e n t i o n to some other general features of such systems as outlined by Levi-Strauss. The closure of a cycle of exchange i s accomplished d i r e c t l y , and t h i s e n t a i l s a minimum of r i s k that the loss of a woman w i l l f a i l to be made good. At the same time, t h i s low r i s k requires a minimum of tr u s t between the p a r t i e s to the transaction. The debt incurred i n receiving a woman i s promptly and d i r e c t l y repaid. We may suppose that such an arrangement i s advantageous to the pa r t i e s to such marriage exchanges, but at the same time i t has c e r t a i n inherent l i m i t a t i o n s i n terms of the structure of society as a whole, for t h i s convenient s e c u r i t y comes at the cost of renouncing the prospect of a widely ramifying chain of a f f i n a l a l l i a n c e s . If the s p i r i t of the incest tabu i s to deprive f a m i l i e s of f u l l s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y ( i n terms of marriage) by fo r c i n g them to look beyond themselves for reproduction, then s i s t e r exchange i s minimal and begrudging compliance with t h i s imperative since f a m i l i e s only need look outside themselves i n a very narrow sense. The general" aim i s for immediate r e s t o r a t i o n of the imbalance created by the lo s s of a woman along the shortest possible " c i r c u i t " . Such systems, then, are marked by a high degree of r e l a t i v e closure, being almost involuted i n character, and are ( i n c i d e n t a l l y ) at home with the s p i r i t of endogamy that characterizes T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s . requires that bridewealth (unang kun, 'woman payment/bone') be paid i n addition to the re c i p r o c a t i o n of a woman. Such payments are r e l a t i v e l y small Unlike a number of otherwise s i m i l a r systems, T e l e f o l marriage 209 by the standards of most New Guinea highlands s o c i e t i e s (see Glasseaarid Meggitt 1969). The core of such payments i s o b l i g a t o r i l y made up of str i n g s of small cowries (bonang, 'small cowries' or bonang amiit, 'small cowries permanent'), which are usually i n lengths of about a cubit or so. Though nowadays bonang are assigned a conventional value of between two and si x d o l l a r s (depending on length), i t i s i n fa c t exceedingly rare for Telefolmin to s e l l them for cash, and a t h e o r e t i c a l l y equivalent sum of cash can i n no circumstances substitute for bonang i n bridewealth. Though there i s a f a i r range of v a r i a t i o n , most bridewealth payments include at le a s t f i v e or si x bonang. In addi t i o n to t h i s , other a r t i c l e s are added to the payment. Generally, i n order of preference, they are: t r a d i t i o n a l stone .adzes (fubi or mook), nowadays replaced by s t e e l axes purchased from the tradestore; bows .(unuuk) of black palm and arrows (un) ; bark netbags (men); and, again nowadays, cash. (Such items are generally referred to as mufekfek, 'things', while only bonang, cash, and occasionally fubi and unuuk are classed as tisol, 'valuables'). I d e a l l y the t o t a l number of items i n the payment should come to twenty-seven (deng or kakkat), the base of the T e l e f o l counting system, s i g n i f y i n g completion. A point that must be emphasized here i s that the payment of bride-wealth does not eliminate the o b l i g a t i o n of the groom's k i n to provide a woman i n exchange for the bride. Telefolmin are quite e x p l i c i t about t h i s . There i s no appropriate return for a woman given i n marriage other than the rec i p r o c a t i o n of another woman", j u s t as there i s no appropriate compensation for a death other than a r e c i p r o c a l k i l l i n g , Bridewealth then i s not to be understood as compensation for the bride per se (though Telefolmin adopt conventional usage i n Pidgin and describe the process as akin to 'purchase', i . e . , bairn meri), Instead, i t i s viewed as an attempt to m o l l i f y and pa c i f y the bride's k i n i n the face of t h e i r anger at her loss and i s seen as e s s e n t i a l for the establishment of good r e l a t i o n s between a f f i n e s , who adopt the 210 appropriate k i n terms (and name tabus) when bridewealth i s paid. And while i t i s not unusual but common for a woman's k i n to display anger over her marriage, e s p e c i a l l y i f any of the circumstances are (as i s sometimes the case) i r r e g u l a r , a l l harsh words must forever cease when bridewealth i s paid and accepted. Bridewealth payments do not exhaust the transactions at marriage, but rather lead to subsequent ones, f o r the bridewealth i t s e l f must be balanced by a return payment from the family of the bride to that of the groom. This payment takes the form of pigs k i l l e d and presented to the groom and h i s k i n by the bride's family i n proportion to s i z e of the bridewealth. This i s gauged p a r t i c u l a r l y i n terms of the number of bonang handed over, at the rate ( i d e a l l y ) of one domestic p i g per bonang, which i s the conventional equivalence of bonang and pigs g e n e r a l l y . ^ This pork i s given so i.that the groom may i n h i s turn compensate those who contributed to the bridewealth payment on h i s behalf, and i s also i n some sense f e l t to be a sort of subs t i t u t e f o r p o t e n t i a l r i g h t s or claims they might make over the bride, a means of f o r e s t a l l i n g such claims and holding them i n abeyance. Men explain t h i s by saying simply that one may not cut up, d i v i d e , or share a vagina i n the same way that one may share out a pig. These exchanges complete the major transactions involved i n marriage, and the union i s sealed i n a moral sense when the husband accepts and eats a cooked taro handed to him by h i s wife i n the presence of others. There are, however, further claims a r i s i n g out of the marriage, as we s h a l l see. So f a r I have referred rather obliquely to the kin , f a m i l i e s , or people of the bride and groom. This vagueness i s del i b e r a t e , for apart from the immediate parents and s i b l i n g s of the bride and groom i t i s extremely d i f f i c u l t to specify with any c l a r i t y or p r e c i s i o n who w i l l take part i n the 211. ' transaction, e s p e c i a l l y i n the assembly of bridewealth items and t h e i r consequent d i s t r i b u t i o n . Here Telefolmin themselves are vague, Tenum miit i d e n t i t i e s are, as we have seen, rather ambiguous and nebulous; i n regard to the organization.of marriage exchanges, the same holds true. There i s no o b l i g a t i o n ( i n terms of contributing to exchanges) or r i g h t ( i n terms of receiving) pertaining to tenum miit . Telefolmin count close cognates as isak atok ('blood p a r t ' ) , and t h i s term can be understood to indi c a t e a person's near b i l a t e r a l kindred. One's parents, c h i l d r e n , s i b l i n g s , and f i r s t cousins are i n v a r i a b l y counted as isak atok, and as such are a l l prohibited marriage partners. But beyond the range of parents' s i b l i n g s (and t h e i r descendants), i t becomes d i f f i c u l t to determine j u s t where one's isak atok leave o f f — l i k e kindreds i n most s o c i e t i e s , isak atok are e g o c e n t r i c a l l y defined and t h e i r outer l i m i t s tend to fade and fuzz out according to the vagaries of memory and the closeness ( i n other terms) of r e l a t i o n s . In any event, although marriage i s d e f i n i t e l y prohibited between isak atok within f i r s t cousin, range, there i s no s p e c i f i c o b l i g a t i o n to p a r t i c i p a t e i n marriage exchanges phrased i n terms of isak atok. A man's father i s expected to contribute s u b s t a n t i a l l y to h i s son's bride-wealth payments, and h i s brothers ought to. But even here i t turns out that not a l l brothers do so (even i f abl e ) , and though fathers i n v a r i a b l y .. contribute something, they are not necessarily the largest contributors. Thus although close r e l a t i v e s generally do p a r t i c i p a t e i n assembling bridewealth, not a l l close k i n do so, nor are a l l who do so close k i n . What counts more i n the T e l e f o l view i s personal i n c l i n a t i o n and the a b i l i t y to contribute, and t h i s i s phrased more often i n terms of r e l a t i o n s between friends (dup) than kin. Friendship, i n i t s turn, stems from many th i n g s — a n d c e r t a i n l y close proximity i s one of them—but whatever i t s source i t i s mainly understood i n terms of a h i s t o r y of mutual helpfulness. More than anything else, t h i s i s a matter of r e c i p r o c i t y i t s e l f , of g i v i n g , r e c e i v i n g , and giving again. 212 Though we have some d i f f i c u l t y i n specifying p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n bride-wealth transactions on the basis of kinship, there i s nonetheless one d e f i n i t e sort of p r i o r claim a man may have to the assistance of others. If a man has already a s s i s t e d another i n the assembly of bridewealth, he may claim the l a t t e r ' s aid when he i s assembling bridewealth for himself, h i s brother, or his son. This i s so even i f the man making such a claim (the erstwhile contributor) had been given pork as h i s share of the return payment. In turn, when such assistance i s given, i t must i n time be repaid i n kind, i n a d d i t i o n to a more immediate compensation of pork from the return payment from the bride's family. Thus we can see that there i s a chain or network of r e c i p r o c a l o b l i g a t i o n extending over time i n regard to bridewealth contributions. In addition to these o b l i g a t i o n s , there are other, more s p e c i f i c ones a r i s i n g out of bridewealth transactions. When one of the daughters of a marriage i s h e r s e l f married, those who contributed to her mother's bridewealth are e n t i t l e d to demand a return from her bridewealth. F i n a l l y , a man who made a r e a l l y s u b s t a n t i a l contribution-—say, four or f i v e bonang-^may make another sort of claim. Since he i s i n a sense responsible for the existence of the c h i l d r e n of a union, he may demand that a daughter be married to one of h i s sons, e s p e c i a l l y i f he forgoes more d i r e c t return i n the form of bonang on . some future occasion. (This i s , of course subject to incest regulations, which e f f e c t i v e l y p r o h i b i t a man from making such claims i n regard to his brother's daughters.) We can see that marriage i n Telefolmin r a p i d l y becomes a complex matter with a p r o l i f e r a t i o n of claims that are rooted i n r e c i p r o c i t i e s rather than the f i x e d duties of k i n . Such complexity i s i n fact greater than I have indicated since we must keep i n mind that a l l of the transactions outlined are i d e a l l y duplicated i n the event that s i s t e r exchange takes place. Things are further complicated by other f a c t o r s . In general, there are p o t e n t i a l l y more claimants for r i g h t s i n any p a r t i c u l a r woman than can be s a t i s f i e d by any p a r t i c u l a r course of action , and i t thus seems i n e v i t a b l e that there w i l l be disappointments. There are a number of d i f f i c u l t i e s involved i n the reckoning of debts i n women, not the least of which i s the fact that demography i s never so generous as to guarantee that there w i l l be p r e c i s e l y the correct number of men and women i n each family for true s i s t e r exchange to be p r a c t i c a b l e . This being the case, most men reckon that they may count t h e i r f i r s t cousins as " s i s t e r s " for such purposes. But the b i l a t e r a l reckoning of isak atok means that (given the egocentric and overlapping nature of these networks) men who are not p a r t i c u l a r l y c l o s e l y r e l a t e d may nonetheless regard the same woman as a factor i n t h e i r own plans. They may each assert, for example, that one p a r t i c u l a r woman should be counted as a c r e d i t i n t h e i r favour when they t r y to negotiate r e c i p r o c i t i e s with others. Such problems can be p a r t i c u l a r l y acute i n the case of i n t e r v i l l a g e marriages, and may be exacerbated by the fact that women may p r e c i p i t a t e marriages through elopement i n complete disregard for the plans of others. The upshot of a l l of t h i s i s that though people attempt to keep things s t r a i g h t , tangles are extremely d i f f i c u l t to avoid. A couple of examples w i l l i l l u s t r a t e some of the problems. Tiksan's wife Somelok i s an Ankevip woman who took the lead i n t h e i r marriage by simply running to his house one day and i n s i s t i n g that she wanted to marry him. Tiksan i n fact l i k e d her and was attracted to her, and so he agreed to the idea, although h i s family was dubious—and with good reason. Before the day was out, her ki n from Ankevip showed up i n front of Tiksan's house, armed and angry. They demanded her return and heaped abuse on Tiksan and h i s family. But Tiksan armed himself and faced them from hi s veranda, and soon a number of other Derolengam men (each bearing arms) gathered and came to Tiksan's support. Although there was much shouting, the s i t u a t i o n was pretty much a standoff, and the Ankevip men went home without the woman. But i t was cl e a r that there would be further t a l k about t h i s . In order to understand subsequent events, i t w i l l be necessary to r e f e r to the following genealogy: Derolengam: FIGURE 5 Tiksan's Marriage Ankevip: A? 6 6 A A ^ 9 ^ 02 Key: 1. Tiksan 6. Dubomen 2. Somelok 7. Welagim 3. Felepnok 8. Dakasim 4. Alumeyok 9. Olmamsep 5. Sologen 10. Okmanip When the following day came, Ankevip people once more confronted Tiksan. But t h i s time they were more restrained i n t h e i r manner and were unarmed. Again other Derolengam people gathered to lend Tiksan support. In a short time i t became.clear that the Ankevip people ei t h e r wanted Somelok returned (they said she had been promised to an Ankevip man), or else Derolengam would have to send another woman as a replacement. At t h i s , the Derolengam people became angry, saying they were always giving women to Ankevip i n marriage and that i t was Ankevip-—not Derolengam—that never reciprocated women. Tiksan pointed out that h i s s i s t e r was already married t an Ankevip man (Felepnok), but that no woman had yet been sent to Derolengam to square things (Felepnok himself was absent), To t h i s the Ankevip people answered that Tiksan's s i s t e r had he r s e l f been sent i n return f o r Felepnok's s i s t e r Sologen, who had been married to Alumeyok of Derolengam. Here there was some confusion, f o r others said that Sologen was sent as a return for Tiksan's s i s t e r . In any event, the Ankevip people i n s i s t e d that Felepnok's wife and Sologen were together part of an exchange and could not be counted i n the discussions of Somelok. Matters became further tangled when Robinok and Tegemsep took t h i s opportunity to take the Ankevip people to task f o r permitting Welagim's Ankevip wife to return to Ankevip, where she took up with another man. This i n turn led to counter recriminations, since Dubomen, Welagim's s i s t e r , had l e f t her husband i n Ankevip and had been a c t i v e l y encouraged i n her pursuit of Dakasim, whom, she married. Dakasim answered that Dubomen had come to him of her own choice, and i n any event only years a f t e r Welagim's wife returned to Ankevip. At the same time he pointed out that Felepnok's wife ought to have been reckoned as a debt outstanding i n Derolengam's favour, since Felepnok's mother was a Derolengam woman and Sologen's marriage to Alumeyok was a matter of a daughter being sent as a belated replacement for her mother. When some Ankevip people raised the question of Olmamsep's wife, Okmanip, who was also from Ankevip, Olmamsep quickly pointed out that h i s s i s t e r had been sent to Ankevip, where she bore people for them, including Welagim's wife and Dubomen's husband. The discussion continued i n t h i s vein for quite some time and ended, not s u r p r i s i n g l y , without any r e a l consensus. Over subsequent days Somelok remained i n Tiksan's house (though they did not have intercourse) under the care of Nifinim, Tiksan's father. From time to time r e l a t i v e s from Ankevip would come, eit h e r to ask her to return, or j u s t to v i s i t . In the meantime, Tiksan i n s i s t e d that i t was only f a i r that Somelok be married to a Derolengam man, since he s t i l l claimed that h i s s i s t e r ' s marriage to an Ankevip man had not been reciprocated. Some of the Ankevip people were prepared to accept t h i s , though Somelok's father pointed out with some j u s t i c e that f i r s t h i s s i s t e r and then h i s daughter were married to Derolengam but that he himself had seen no return from t h i s . In the meantime, N i f i n i m and others assembled bridewealth goods on Tiksan's behalf, and eventually Somelok's father accepted t h i s , returning pork i n due time. r e l a t i o n s with his Ankevip a f f i n e s are now good. Tiksan regards h i s marriage as an exchange marriage (unang abu), though he i s aware that others may i n future attempt to make claims on another woman to be sent to Ankevip. His own view of th i s i s that i t might be possible that a daughter of h i s (should he have one) could be sent to Ankevip, but he adds that since women nowadays are very strong-headed and since the government endorses the p r i n c i p l e of women's ri g h t to choose t h e i r own husbands (laik bilong meri), i t would be premature to make such plans. r e c i p r o c i t y and the f r a g i l i t y of hopes founded on i t by a look at another case involving one of those already mentioned, Welagim, Once again, matters w i l l be easier to follow with the aid of a genealogy dis p l a y i n g cognatic and a f f i n a l r e l a t i o n s between the p r i n c i p a l s : In the end, Tiksan and Somelok s e t t l e d down together and Tiksan's We can gain some further i n s i g h t into both the negative side of FIGURE 6 Welagim's M a r i t a l Experience (Ankevip) Kasangengim Iludobinip Ikisengim Bololim Welagim Dubomen Binengim Robinok Kilasep 9 217 Welagim has been without a wife for quite some time, a fa c t that he often thinks about. When discussing h i s previous marriage to an Ankevip woman (by whom he had two c h i l d r e n , both remaining with him i n Derolengam), he became quiet and withdrawn, not h i s usual s e l f . They had been married f o r some years, and at f i r s t he claimed to me that she had become promiscuous and that he had sent her back to Ankevip i n disgust. But l a t e r he said simply that she had an a f f a i r with an Ankevip man and ran o f f to him, leaving Welagim and the c h i l d r e n behind i n Derolengam. He said a l s o , with some b i t t e r n e s s , that although he had t r i e d to get her back, he received l i t t l e support, e i t h e r from h i s Ankevip a f f i n e s or from h i s friends i n Derolengam. Although he prides himself on the fact that he su c c e s s f u l l y provided for h i s two c h i l d r e n on h i s own, he also t a l k s about what hard work t h i s was without anyone to help him. Welagim i s often among those m e n — p a r t i c u l a r l y senior men-—who disparage what they see as the uxoriousness of younger men i n the v i l l a g e who spend (too) much of t h e i r time i n company with t h e i r wives. But I also saw, i n quiet and sometimes sad t a l k s with him, that he was lonely. Both of h i s c h i l d r e n are now grown, his son Tegemsep a married man with c h i l d r e n and a wife of h i s own, and h i s daughter Kilasep i s married to Robinok. Although Welagim sometimes has Tegemsep's company, and though Fumeen (his mother's brother's daughter, nek, she i s Bololim's s i s t e r ) and her husband come to stay i n h i s house, he i s f o r the most part on h i s own. I t i s f o r t h i s reason (and because of the f a i l u r e of others to reciprocate i n the past) that Welagim no longer keeps p i g s — w i t h o u t a woman to share the load (women i n fact predominate i n pig rearing) the job becomes d i f f i c u l t for a man, and more so for one as old as Welagim. Despite a l l of t h i s , Welagim has made various attempts to deal with h i s s i t u a t i o n , or at l e a s t to keep i t from d e t e r i o r a t i n g further. His o r i g i n a l marriage to an Ankevip woman was part of a s i s t e r exchange, his younger s i s t e r Dubomen being sent as a return to h i s wife's brother. A f t e r 218 h i s f a i l u r e at r e t r i e v i n g h i s wife from Ankevip, at le a s t one opportunity to even things up presented i t s e l f , and he took i t . When Dubomen'-s husband and Dakasim were on a labour contract i n Rabaul, Welagim attempted to persuade Dubomen to leave Ankevip. With h i s c a r e f u l l y - l a i d groundwork, Dubomen moved to Derolengam, where she stayed with Welagim or with Dakasim's mother. When Dakasim and her husband returned from t h e i r p l a n t a t i o n work, she announced that she intended to marry Dakasim. Aft e r a b r i e f confrontation with her husband's r e l a t i v e s (Welagim's erstwhile a f f i n e s ) , Dakasim payed a token compensation i n bonang and—backed by the support of others from Derolengam who belatedly took notice of the departure of Welagim's wife^—he managed to maintain the arrangement. This i s something that Welagim r e c k o n s — q u i e t l y , at any r a t e — t o be a coup i n r e t a l i a t i o n for the shabby treatment he received. When Kilasep was a young g i r l Welagim saw to i t that she, along with her brother Tegemsep, went to the government primary school. There Kilasep became enamoured of a young man from the v i l l a g e of Kubrenmin i n Eliptaman. As soon as she f e l t h e r s e l f old enough to marry, she eloped with t h i s youth, and the two of them went to Eliptaman where they led a f u g i t i v e existence f o r some time i n the bush. Welagim was both enraged and hurt by the loss of h i s daughter, and refused a l l attempts to negotiate sanction for the match. Instead, he complained loudly to the men of Derolengam about t h i s loss to the Kubrenmin, e s p e c i a l l y since there was no woman offered i n return. A party was mustered, including young Robinok, and they went over the range to Kubrenmin, where they confronted the youth's friends and r e l a t i v e s — i f the accounts are to be believed, they were near to committing bloodshed. They made a second v i s i t i n strength, and t h i s time they caught the young couple i n the v i l l a g e , where they f o r c i b l y seized Kilasep and brought her back to Derolengam. Shortly thereafter, Welagim gave Kilasep to Robinok, who had been f o r c e f u l i n securing her return, and who was i n any event close to Welagim i n both kinship and sentiment. Thus Welagim ensured that h i s daughter would remain near him. 219 One evening Welagim came to -me when nobody else was around and, somewhat shyly, asked me i f I could help him with something. He wanted to know i f I could get him some " o i l " (iJel) that was "for women". After much puzzling, i t became cl e a r that he was r e f e r r i n g to after-shave l o t i o n . He and others who had some experience with Europeans noted that European men would often anoint t h e i r faces with a sweet smelling o i l — e s p e c i a l l y i f they were going to see a woman, Like many others, Welagim drew the pl a u s i b l e and" hot wholly mistaken conclusion that t h i s was somehow e f f i c a c i o u s i n a t t r a c t i n g a woman's atte n t i o n and a f f e c t i o n s . He wanted to know i f I had any of t h i s , or i f not, i f I could get any for him. I suggested that he' t r y to procure more t r a d i t i o n a l means to the same end, but he objected that he could only get t h i s from a woman or perhaps a young man and that they would not be l i k e l y to give i t to him and i n any event i t would be very embarrassing. After much protest and many explanations, I was. f i n a l l y persuaded to borrow some from one of the European p a t r o l o f f i c e r s ; a f t e r even more numerous disclaimers, I gave him some. Welagim had designs on a woman, and i n fact wished very much to be married. But he faced problems that v i r t u a l l y a l l T e l e f o l men i n s i m i l a r circumstances face. While i t i s nearly assured that young men w i l l f i n d wives one way or another, i t i s a very d i f f e r e n t matter for older men, and i t i s often hard for men abandoned by t h e i r wives or for widowers to remarry unless luck i s on t h e i r side. T e l e f o l women i n the pas t — a n d many i n the p r e s e n t — are often married to p a r t i c u l a r men as the men see f i t . But t h i s i s no guarantee that such marriages w i l l l a s t , and while si n g l e g i r l s face pressures to marry men chosen for them, i t i s very d i f f e r e n t i n the case of divorcees or widows. Such women are not obliged to remarry at a l l , l e t alone to follow others' wishes i n the matter. If they have c h i l d r e n — p a r t i c u l a r l y c h i l d r e n old enough to look a f t e r themselves and to help with the work of gardening— 220 suck unattached women can take care of things pretty w e l l on t h e i r own and operate more or less independently of husbands. One.such woman was Ungiben. Ungihen was Bololim's widow, and had managed for some years without a husband. Though there had been a few attempts to encourage her to remarry, she r e s i s t e d a l l such attempts and had her own way. With Robinok, her son, to clear gardens for her she had no need of another man, p a r t i c u l a r l y one who might seek to impose his w i l l on her. Welagim was interested i n Ungiben, and hoped that she might marry him. He found encouragement i n a few d i f f e r e n t ways. For one thing, he had contributed to the bridewealth Bololim had given f or Ungiben, and t h i s i s sometimes reckoned to imply a p o t e n t i a l claim i n the remarriage of a widow. Taking a d i f f e r e n t l i n e of reasoning e n t i r e l y , Welagim noted now he had given h i s daughter to her son, reckoning that t h i s might be a sort of debt that could be redeemed i f Ungiben remarried him. Here he was operating not i n the realm of c o d i f i e d obligations and r i g h t s , but i n the hopes that a general sort of f a i r n e s s might p r e v a i l (Welagim having given women to others but not having r e a l l y gotten one himself). Perhaps as much to the point as any of these considerations was the fa c t that he sometimes spent time with Robinok and K i l a s e p — a n d therefore Ungiben as w e l l — i n gardening. On such occasions he f e l t that he l i k e d Ungiben and that she might also perhaps l i k e him: she sometimes smiled when he was around. Welagim's hopes, however, were not to be, and were completely dashed i n a dramatic way not long a f t e r our i n i t i a l conversation about Ungiben. Welagim had gone along to work.with Robinok and Kilasep and Ungiben i n a garden they were making, and he had decided that he might plant a l i t t l e of his taro there along with t h e i r s . He said nothing of t h i s to the others, and t h i s proved to be a grave mistake, since the land they were working was Ungiben's land. He planted a small s t r i p along the border of the main 221 c l e a r i n g , A few days l a t e r , Ungiben and Kilasep went together to the garden. When Ungiben saw t h i s taro, she knew immediately that i t was Welagim's and became furious at what she saw to be an infringement on her r i g h t s . She flew into a rage and summarily uprooted a l l of Welagim's taro and threw i t about the garden. At t h i s , Kilasep became angry on her father's behalf and belaboured Ungiben with a piece of wood. (Such behaviour i s extreme and i s expressly forbidden between a f f i n e s . ) Kilasep then l e f t her mother-in-law and ran back to the v i l l a g e to t e l l her father what had taken place, Kilasep refused to speak to Ungiben for several days, and the l a t t e r followed s u i t while Robinok attempted to r e c o n c i l e the two. At one point Kilasep threatened to leave Robinok and return to her father's house i f they continued to garden with h i s mother. Eventually the two women made up and peace was restored to Robinok's household. But Welagim became resigned to the fa c t that he had no chance with Ungiben, unhappily. Cases such as Tiksan's and Welagim's are not unusual, and serve to show that while the basic p r i n c i p l e s of T e l e f o l marriage are r e l a t i v e l y simple, the r e a l world often gets very complicated when men t r y to bring things to a s a t i s f y i n g conclusion, e s p e c i a l l y i f women are involved. Women often have t h e i r own ideas of what they want, and the n i c e t i e s of r e c i p r o c a l arrangements are not always part of t h e i r reckoning. Further, we can see how the muddled nature of c o n f l i c t i n g claims and counter claims makes even a conscientious a p p l i c a t i o n of the p r i n c i p l e s a d i f f i c u l t task. And although r e c i p r o c i t y and equivalence are ideals of T e l e f o l c u l t u r e , espoused or acknowledged by a l l , t h e i r r e a l i t y i n s o c i a l l i f e often seems tenuous to the outsider. Rather, they seem i n some cases to be post-hoc means of constructing an i n t e l l i g i b l e r a t i o n a l e for events whose courses have been made up of miscellaneous contingencies. To the extent that such notions a c t u a l l y shape events, i t seems f a i r to say that t h i s i s accomplished i n a r h e t o r i c a l f a s h i o n — e a c h 222 party persuades i t s e l f and attempts to persuade others of the s u i t a b i l i t y of a s i t u a t i o n i n these terms. From the point of view of the men, one of the chief obstacles to the r e a l i z a t i o n of t h e i r plans i s the near-proverbial i n d i f f e r e n c e of women to the i r intentions, and t h i s i s often characterized as a sort of feminine way-wardness. There i s a c e r t a i n amount of confirmation for t h i s view since women i n f a c t tend to take the i n i t i a t i v e i n sexual matters, regardless of what men say, and men seize upon t h i s as one more means of portraying themselves as sensible and s o c i a l l y responsible beings who must contend with the vagaries of unruly and sometimes f i c k l e women. But underneath t h i s c aricature of male and female temperaments there l i e s a deeper and more t e l l i n g stumbling block. As may already be apparent, Telefolmin consider r e c i p r o c i t y most immediately from the perspective of l o s s , and one of t h e i r c h i e f concerns i s to make losses good. Thus men see giving as depletion and receiving as reclamation, and giving i s likewise seen as taking place under some form of duress or as a means of f o r e s t a l l i n g and n e u t r a l i z i n g claims. In the context of marriage conceived as a network of r e c i p r o c i t i e s , t h i s means that at any one time most men are l i k e l y to view the balance sheet of debts and c r e d i t s i n terms of losses that can be converted i n t o claims or claims that others may attempt to make against them. I t i s i n t h i s sense that a woman given i n marriage can be likened to a l i e n placed upon the r e c i p i e n t s . And although we may suppose (more out of f a i t h than anything else) that there i s a balance i n the long run, at any one time the s i t u a t i o n i s i n fact seen as one of imbalance, with scores outstanding that remain unredeemed. That t h i s i s so can be seen from a review of the circumstances surrounding Tiksan's marriage: even though both sides asserted a number of d i f f e r e n t marriages to be r e c i p r o c a l exchanges (abu), there was l i t t l e consensus as to whether Somelok's marriage to Tiksan s e t t l e d old debts or created new ones. And though the match was i n the end sanctioned, each side entertained d i f f e r e n t verions of what the score was. 223 If we turn to a consideration of v i l l a g e endo.gamy,', we can see many of these concerns i n evidence, People o f f e r a number of reasons why they prefer women to marry within t h e i r own v i l l a g e . One of these i s that a woman who marries a fellow v i l l a g e r i s not l o s t to her family i n the same sense that she would be i f she were to marry outside: even though she w i l l work and l i v e within a new household, i t Is s t i l l p ossible for her to v i s i t her parents and s i b l i n g s and to a s s i s t them from time to time. This i s e s p e c i a l l y marked i f her parents are old, since a daughter w i l l be able to provide taro for them even a f t e r they are unable to pursue t h e i r usual routine of gardening. People also say that i t i s f a r more l i k e l y that a woman w i l l be reciprocated i f she i s given to a man within her v i l l a g e since fellow v i l l a g e r s are far more l i k e l y to be s e n s i t i v e to such c l a i m s — t h o s e from other v i l l a g e s are not so l i k e l y to be trustworthy. Endogamy i s su i t a b l e , then, because i t o f f e r s some, se c u r i t y against the loss of a woman while underwriting the prospects f o r recovering another woman i n return. In a d d i t i o n to these reasons, Telefolmin account for v i l l a g e endogamy i n terms of a concern f o r c o l l e c t i v e strength. Telefolmin wish t h e i r v i l l a g e s to be large and to grow, and though t h i s i s often couched i n the idiom of warfare, v i l l a g e s i z e i s equated with strength i n a much more d i f f u s e sense and i s valued i n i t s e l f . Thus many men account for endogamy by saying that t h e i r v i l l a g e s w i l l grow larger and stronger and prosper i f they keep t h e i r women within the v i l l a g e instead of allowing them to marry into other v i l l a g e s . Such assertions are i n t h e i r eyes confirmed by the observation that v i l l a g e s that s u c c e s s f u l l y p r a c t i c e endogamy tend to be large, while those that f a i l to do so are small and r e l a t i v e l y weak. Thus men equate endogamy with success, pointing out that the c h i l d r e n of endogamous marriages are not l o s t but remain to augment v i l l a g e ranks. 224 There does seem to be a r e l a t i o n s h i p between v i l l a g e s i z e and endogamy, although i t seems more l i k e l y that large v i l l a g e s are for demographic and other reasons more successful i n pursuing endogamous p o l i c i e s than smaller v i l l a g e s . For example, Ubtemtigin v i l l a g e i n Eliptaman i s a r e l a t i v e l y small v i l l a g e which has a population of seventy or so, and i s 18 adjacent to several other v i l l a g e s of larger s i z e . From the standpoint of marriage,-things are d i f f i c u l t f o r Ubtemtigin men since the v i l l a g e i s short of women, and a l l of t h i s i s exacerbated by the fact that a number of the otherwise marriageable women i n the v i l l a g e f a l l within the range of re l a t i o n s h i p prohibited by the incest tabu. Thus Ubtemtigin has more or less been forced into exogamous arrangements with neighbouring v i l l a g e s . These marriages were supposedly arranged as exchanges, but things have not gone as planned for Ubtemtigin. One v i l l a g e i n p a r t i c u l a r , Abunkaman (population 165), showed no signs of a c t u a l l y r e c i p r o c a t i n g . The v i l l a g e r s of Ubtemtigin attempted to prod Abunkaman to make good the debt, but with l i t t l e success. The a l t e r n a t i v e usually a v a i l a b l e i n such cases i s to stage an angry confrontation, with the i m p l i c i t but well-understood threat of violence. But here Ubtemtigin was at a clear disadvantage, since t h i s would p i t i t against a v i l l a g e more than twice i t s s i z e . In the end, some angry Ubtemtigin men abducted two young Abunkaman women, arguing that they were merely claiming t h e i r due. The two women were neither.harmed nor molested, and i t was hoped that t h e i r k i n might be persuaded to acquiesce i n the face of t h i s show of determination. In the end even t h i s f a i l e d , as charges were l a i d against the abductors who were given short gaol terms for unlawful abduction. The basic problem for Ubtemtigin remains unsolved: i t i s too small to succ e s s f u l l y p r a c t i c e endogamous marriage and i s likewise too small to ensure that exogamous marriages w i l l r e s u l t i n r e c i p r o c a l exchanges of women, A s i m i l a r s i t u a t i o n may be seen i n the case of B i i l t e v i p (Ifitaman), B i i l t e v i p numbers approximately 60 persons or so, and men from B i i l t e v i p have 225 had some d i f f i c u l t y acquiring wives. Many of the factors are demographic, since there i s (as with Ubtemtigin) a...local imbalance i n the sex r a t i o such that women are r e l a t i v e l y scarce. And, as with Ubtemtigin, many otherwise marriageable women are excluded because of incest regulations. The s i t u a t i o n (as of 1975) was further aggravated by the f a c t that four young women ran o f f to marry men i n other v i l l a g e s , and B i i l t e v i p was not strong enough to force t h e i r return. In one case, not only was no woman forthcoming_in return, but the groom's party only offered a very small bridewealth to the wife's brothers, confident, no doubt, that her family would be unable to muster enough support to demand more. In the case of one young man, Yaiyok, the s i t u a t i o n was dismal. He i s the youngest brother of the woman i n question, and he had the misfortune to be away i n the bush when h i s s i s t e r ' s bridewealth was paid, and his elder brothers simply excluded him from the d i s t r i b u t i o n since there was so l i t t l e to go around. He eventually persuaded an Ulapmin woman (whose face was badly scarred i n a house f i r e ) to run o f f to him and managed a f t e r much d i f f i c u l t y to assemble a bridewealth for her. At that, Yaiyok i s fortunate since he has i n f a c t succeeded i n marrying. But l i f e i n B i i l t e v i p i s pervaded by the e f f e c t s of such d i f f i c u l t i e s . Adultery within the v i l l a g e i s r i f e , and the absence of some husbands on labour contracts makes matters worse. In 1975 one married woman hanged h e r s e l f when her husband's return from contract labour forced the termination of a l i a i s o n she had had with one of the sing l e men of the v i l l a g e . Though such things happen i n other v i l l a g e s as w e l l , many commented that such trouble was i n e v i t a b l e i n a v i l l a g e where so many young men were forced to remain bachelors. In another case a youth hanged himself because his attempt to seduce the wife of an elder brother had been found out. In addition, the sudden death of a married woman led to further demoralization. Convinced that B i i l t e v i p was on the verge of ex t i n c t i o n , one man s o l i c i t e d the services of a biit sorcerer to r e t a l i a t e against the v i l l a g e he suspected had caused the death. But here he f a i l e d , and was gaoled for h i s pains. By the 226 end of the year people talked of B i i l t e v i p as though, i t were doomed as a vi a b l e v i l l a g e , and many B i i l t e v i p people talked about the p o s s i b i l i t y of movxng to joxn relatxves xn other settlements. In cases such as these we can see that v i l l a g e s i z e and strength go together with v i l l a g e endogamy. But here i t i s important to note that the preference f o r endogamy applies f i r s t and foremost when one's own women are being considered—they should marry at home. At the same time, most men are enthusiastic about the prospects of marrying women from other v i l l a g e s i f t h i s can be accomplished without the corresponding loss of a woman of one's own. (Here i t might be h e l p f u l to r e c a l l that Telefolmin often abducted enemy women i n warfare and preferred to marry them rather than k i l l them—such women were an easy gain, and came, so to speak, with "no str i n g s attached".) The larger the v i l l a g e , the easier i t i s to keep one's women within the v i l l a g e and to hold on to women from other v i l l a g e s . Endogamy, then, i s the luxury of large v i l l a g e s , and they are spared the necessity of r e l y i n g upon outsiders (and the i r good f a i t h ) to acquire wives. To the extent that successful endogamy can be equated with v i l l a g e strength, we can understand such strength i n terms of autonomy and s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y . If we return to the general question of T e l e f o l r e c i p r o c i t y and i t s r e l a t i o n to what I c a l l entropy, we can draw, out some of the implications of the T e l e f o l marriage system more c l e a r l y i n terms of i t s underlying structure. We may s t a r t by simply noting that :the ban on marriage with s i b l i n g s and f i r s t cousins ( i . e . , close isak atok) deprives such small networks of close k i n of s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y i n terms of marriage. Kindreds are thus incomplete i n so far as i t i s impossible f o r a man to transform a s i s t e r d i r e c t l y into a wife, and such kindreds cannot be self-contained. From another point of view, t h i s introduces an i n i t i a l d i s e q u i l i b r i u m or defi c i e n c y into cognatic r e l a t i o n s , making the achievement of s t a s i s impossible-—to gain wives, men must lose 227 t h e i r s i s t e r s . Seen from,;the; point of view of r e c i p r o c i t y , i t i s decreed that there can be no gain without a corresponding l o s s , and the s u f f i c i e n c y of the kindred i s contingent upon r e l a t i o n s with others. A l l of these things are well-known and straightforward implications of the incest tabu, and Telefolmin are as aware of them as kinship t h e o r i s t s are. But the a l t e r n a t i v e p o s s i b i l i t y — t h a t of incestuous unions and t o t a l s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y — i s considered' i n t a l e s t o l d by Telefolmin. I n t e r e s t i n g l y , these t a l e s are part of the general stock of s t o r i e s t o l d around evening f i r e s , and are a t t r i b u t e d to the now-extinct I l i g i m i n , who had attempted a sort of c o l l e c t i v e matricide by burning the T e l e f o l i p , an act which led to t h e i r extermination. In the f i r s t t a l e , incest i s achieved and leads at once to disastrous r e s u l t s : There were once two tenum kaselal (FBC), one a man, and the other a woman. They had gone to the source of the Ok Kwep to b u i l d a bush house near some gardens. As they were completing the house and l a y i n g down sheets of wild pandanus bark (doI) f l o o r i n g , the man suggested to h i s cousin that the two of them have intercourse. She was o b l i g i n g and agreed, laying h e r s e l f down i n the middle of the f r e s h l y cut sheet of bark and spreading her legs. When her cousin lay down on top of her, the bark began to c u r l at the edges u n t i l i t r o l l e d up t i g h t with both of them i n s i d e . Then i t r o l l e d downhill carrying them with i t u n t i l i t f e l l into the r i v e r , where they were both drowned. Here, o f f i n the bush and away from society, a man and woman commit incest and s u f f e r a g r a p h i c a l l y appropriate f a t e : bound to each other and enclosed i n one 'skin' (tree bark and skin i n T e l e f o l both being rendered as kaal), they are not only cut o f f from the world, but become one aimless r o l l i n g object coming to r e s t at the bottom of the r i v e r . This l a s t feature i s p a r t i c u l a r l y s i g n i f i c a n t since i n T e l e f o l thought one's ' s p i r i t ' (and also r a t i o n a l i t y , sint-k) i s extinguished by water—the two are thus deprived even of becoming ghosts (bagel or momoyok) and simply become non-existent except as r o t t i n g f l e s h . Here s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y c a r r i e d to the extreme of i n c e s t r e s u l t s not i n 228 l i f e or p r o d u c t i v i t y (the normal outcome of intercourse), but i n the negation of existence. The second t a l e , also a t t r i b u t e d to the I l i g i m i n , gives an account of a f a i l e d attempt at i n c e s t : A man and h i s younger s i s t e r (neeng) were completing a house. Af t e r he had f i n i s h e d laying down the wild pandanus bark f l o o r i n g , he complained to h i s s i s t e r that he had b u i l t a nice house but that he had no woman to have intercourse with. She heard him and said, "you needn't worry—we two can have intercourse". She spread her legs, but as he prepared to enter her a piece of bark from the f l o o r became lodged i n h i s penis, and h i s pain was so great that they were unable to have intercourse. Time passed, but the piece of bark remained lodged i n the mouth of h i s penis, and h i s pain grew while h i s penis became swollen to huge proportions. It became so bad that he was unable to walk and had to remain s i t t i n g i n s i d e the house while his s i s t e r went about her gardening. She looked a f t e r him and brought him food, but h i s condition did not improve and eventually h i s penis became so heavy that he l e t i t hang down through an opening i n the f l o o r . A l i t t l e boy was wandering around, playing with h i s toy bow and arrows. He came up and saw the penis hanging down, now surrounded by f l i e s and other i n s e c t s . He sharpened his arrow and then took aim. His arrow struck home, and a l l the pus burst f o r t h and s p i l l e d over the boy who ran away while the man howled i n pain. When the man removed the arrow from his penis, the piece of bark was removed as w e l l , and the swelling ended. The boy bathed and returned to the house where he was joined by the man's s i s t e r , who f e l t sorry for him. Later the man married his s i s t e r to the boy and k i l l e d a p i g for him because h i s face had been ruined by the pus. Here incest i s only attempted but not committed, and the attempt leads not to death, but instead to pain. More s i g n i f i c a n t than pain, however, i s the blockage and i m m o b i l i t y — s t a s i s — t h a t r e s u l t s . The man's penis swells to huge proportions, but the organ i s i t s e l f useless and becomes an encumbrance— stopped up and f e s t e r i n g , i t only serves to prevent the man from doing anything at a l l . He i s closed o f f into himself and imprisoned by h i s own attempt to make his s i s t e r h i s wife as surely as i f he were bound and t i e d within h i s own house. I t takes the intervention of a n o t h e r — i r o n i c a l l y , a young boy, without a man's equipment—to release him from h i s s e l f - i n f l i c t e d bondage to h i s 229 penis. S i g n i f i c a n t l y , t h i s release i s only accomplished at the cost of pain (a f i g u r a t i v e c a s t r a t i o n for unsuccessful incest) as the boy's arrow frees the man from the accumulated pus. The denouement of the t a l e brings the message home: the s i s t e r does become a wife, but not of her brother; complete s e l f -s u f f i c i e n c y only leads to the imprisonment of immobility, and t h i s can only be put r i g h t by parting with one's own. L i f e only comes.at a cost. These t a l e s show, of course, what was already c l e a r : the a l t e r n a t i v e to the complicated and r i s k y business of men tr y i n g to exchange women with each other i s no a l t e r n a t i v e at a l l , and there i s i n the end no way for men to be e n t i r e l y s e l f - s u f f i c i e n t . Loss ( i n t h i s case, of one's own women) i s one of l i f e ' s unavoidable c o n d i t i o n s — o n e may (and must) attempt to recover one's losses, but one can never evade the necessity to incur losses i n the f i r s t place. Thus the aim of autonomy..must be tempered by the necessity of entering into r e l a t i o n s with others i f s t a t i c i n f e r t i l i t y i s to be avoided. Such conclusions are not very d i f f e r e n t from what one might expect for any society. The character of T e l e f o l marriage, however, can be seen as an attempt to come to grips with these implications i n a s t r i k i n g sort of way. If we consider incest regulations once more, we note not only that s i b l i n g s are prohibited as partners, but f i r s t cousins are also forbidden mates. This means, among other things, that a marriage u n i t i n g two kindreds or f a m i l i e s i n one generation i s an e f f e c t i v e bar to a s i m i l a r marriage i n the.succeeding generation. As a r e s u l t , i t i s even impossible to r e s t r i c t the range of re l a t i o n s (through exchange of women) to a singular a l t e r , the minimum of one other group required. An i n i t i a l act of exchange cannot s u f f i c e , nor can re l i a n c e on only one other partner s u f f i c e . In e f f e c t , the problem—or the r i s k — o f exchanging s i s t e r s for wives must be confronted anew each generation. Here we might note p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y that the p r o h i b i t i o n on f i r s t cousins works to prevent the complete closure of what Levi-Strauss has c a l l e d r e s t r i c t e d 230 exchange, and thus the otherwise d u a l i s t i c tendencies of T e l e f o l m a r r iage— p a r t i c u l a r l y i n view of the emphasis on replacement of one woman by another through s i s t e r exchange—are not permitted to c r y s t a l l i z e into a moiety-like arrangement. Two exchanging groups alone w i l l never s u f f i c e . Put another way, t h i s means that the arrangements i n one generation cannot be duplicated i n the next so that even the successful completion of a s i s t e r exchange between two p a r t i e s (sibling.:groups, f a m i l i e s , kindreds) cannot form a closed c i r c u i t of perpetual connubium. Thus there can never be a permanent establishment of an equilibrium between a f f i n a l l y r e l a t e d p a r t i e s , since success here serves as only a temporary s t a b i l i z a t i o n — t h e closed c i r c u i t of r e c i p r o c i t i e s i s s e l f -l i q u i d a t i n g . The s i t u a t i o n may be represented i n the following diagram: FIGURE 7, Si s t e r Exchange, Reciprocity, and Incest Rules (Model) (Closure) (Extension) If we take a look at T e l e f o l marriage from the point of view of the two poles outlined by Levi-Strauss ( 1 9 6 9 ) — d i r e c t / r e s t r i c t e d exchange versus i n d i r e c t / g e n e r a l i z e d exchange—we can see that both poles are evidenced i n tension with one another. On the one had the general thrust of the T e l e f o l i nsistence that one woman replace another (through s i s t e r exchange or some analogous arrangement) i s that a closure i s to be effected and that the i n i t i a l d i s e q u i l i b r i u m introduced by the incest tabu i s to be counteracted (Marriage Banned) 231 and i n a sense arrested. The loss i s ( i d e a l l y ) to be made good d i r e c t l y , r i s k minimized, and s u f f i c i e n c y restored, I f we adopt the T e l e f o l view and under-stand marriage from the perspective of those who lose women who must i n some sense be replaced and recovered, we can see s i s t e r exchange as the most d i r e c t means of e f f e c t i n g r e s t o r a t i o n . Here, then, entropy figured as l o s s , s c a t t e r i n g , or d i s p e r s a l (of women) i s managed through means of r e c i p r o c i t y . But no sooner i s t h i s s o l u t i o n offered than formal and p r a c t i c a l d i f f i c u l t i e s a r i s e . As soon as loss (the r e a l i z a t i o n of dependence which v i o l a t e s autonomy) i s recovered the system springs a leak: women must be offered to and ( r e - ) -gained from other quarters. The problem can only be resolved i n a temporary and incomplete fashion. There i s one other way, however, i n which the system of marriage exchanges i s prevented from ramifying into a wide and open-ended network, and th i s i s through permitted second-cousin marriage and v i l l a g e endogamy. Endogamy seals o f f the boundaries of a network of a f f i n a l l i n k s and turns i t i n upon i t s e l f , i n a sense tying up loose ends through i n v o l u t i o n . Thus the outward-facing and exogamous implications of incest regulations are circumvented: i f f a m i l i e s and kindreds are deprived of s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y through i n c e s t , s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y i s restored by transposing from the i n d i v i d u a l or p a r t i c u l a r i s t i c plane of the family to the c o l l e c t i v e plane of the v i l l a g e . Families may lose women, but v i l l a g e s do not. Further, the p o t e n t i a l l y endless spread of cognatic l i n k s i s i t s e l f turned inwards through second-cousin marriage (see Figure 3 above). Though there i s no e x p l i c i t preference for marriage to second-cousins, there are nonetheless a number of factors operating i n favour of such unions. Foremost among these i s that the parents of the c o u p l e — f i r s t c o u s i n s — w i l l themselves be c l o s e l y r e l a t e d and (other things being equal) are l i k e l y to place some f a i t h i n the readiness of each other to uphold obligations of exchange. Here proximity lends some security to the 232 otherwise t r i c k y business of ensuring that exchange arrangements are brought to f r u i t i o n . In f a c t such arrangements are common, and i n any event most marriages ( p a r t i c u l a r l y those conforming to v i l l a g e endogamy) take place between c o g n a t i c a l l y r e l a t e d p a r t i e s and t h i s i s recognized by Telefolmin when they say, i n Pidgin, that they marry t h e i r " s i s t e r s " (mipela save mavitim susa bi-long mipela yet). F i n a l l y , there i s an added inducement for such marriages since i t w i l l often be po s s i b l e to represent them i n terms of a long-term return or recovery of women given i n previous generations. When viewed over time, we can see that a f f i n e s become transformed into cognates and that cognates are "brought back into the f o l d " as a f f i n e s once more when cognatic r e l a t i o n s begin to become di s t a n t : FIGURE 8 Cognation and A f f i n i t y [Example from Derolengam] ITS 6_k 6 3 A I Tt ° 1 A From the point of view of the formal s t r u c t u r a l implications of T e l e f o l marriage i t i s as though a f f i n a l l i n k s were continually being formed, followed by the d i r e c t i o n of the women of such unions outside the o r i g i n a l set of r e l a t i o n s , and then drawing them i n once more. In purely abstract terms, i t i s a system of conjunction, d i s j u n c t i o n and d i s p e r s a l , followed by conjunction once more. This can be schematized i n the following diagram: 233 FIGURE 9 Structure of the Marriage System I I I III Key: I = Closure II = Extension III = Closure In such a system we can see a d i a l e c t i c between the poles of concentrated r e p e t i t i v e a f f i n a l l i n k s ( r e s t r i c t e d exchange) and a dispersed or r a d i a t i n g network of such l i n k s . The system i s thus both involuted and ramifying at the same time, and as with so many other New Guinea systems, t h i s s t r u c t u r a l ambivalence i s never e n t i r e l y resolved (cf. Schwimmer 1973; Rubel and Rosman 1978). And though t h i s may seem a very abstract reckoning of the s i t u a t i o n the very same ambivalence i s manifest i n the general a t t i t u d e men d i s p l a y about r e c i p r o c i t y , whether i n terms of women, goods, or acts. There i s always a tension between the r i s k of extending r e l a t i o n s h i p s or embarking on new ones and the se c u r i t y of consolidating what i s already i n hand while i t i s yet within grasp. "entropy". I w i l l now t r y to demonstrate i t s relevance i n terms of marriage i n Telefolmin. We have seen above how marriage i s seen both as a matter of giving and a matter of l o s s , and one of the chief preoccupations of men i s how— I began t h i s section by introducing the notion of what I c a l l 234 given that one must i n e v i t a b l y lose one's; s i s t e r s to o t h e r s — s u c h loss i s to be made good. The preferred s o l u t i o n i s through s u b s t i t u t i o n , i . e . , one's s i s t e r i s replaced by her husband's s i s t e r , who becomes one's wife. Here the main theme i s replacement through exchange of f u l l y symmetrical kind, and i t i s not s t r e t c h i n g things too f a r to suggest that t h i s i s the means whereby one's s i s t e r i s transformed i n t o one's wife. At an i d e a l l e v e l t h i s kind of arrangement i s the most d i r e c t and immediate r e s t o r a t i o n of the i n i t i a l s i t u a t i o n . But i n p r a c t i c a l terms t h i s becomes d i f f i c u l t , p a r t l y due to demographic l i m i t a t i o n s and p a r t l y due to the p r o l i f e r a t i o n of overlapping claims and counter-claims regarding women. Things are further complicated by the f a c t that women often seize the i n i t i a t i v e i n such matters, pre-empting men's schemes of balanced exchange. In p r a c t i c e , i t i s d i f f i c u l t to demonstrate to the s a t s i f a c t i o n of a l l p a r t i e s that balance has been achieved—a problem more f a m i l i a r from our understanding of the way the balance sheet of feuds i s seen (see Heider 1970). To a c e r t a i n extent the idea of a balanced equivalence remains pretty much no t i o n a l , and from the point of view of the p a r t i c i p a n t s i n the system r i s k of permanent loss (without restoration) becomes a major preoccupation. It i s the prospect of such loss that figures as entropy here, for i t i s c l e a r from the ..cases of the outnumbered and unfortunate v i l l a g e r s of Ubtemtigin and B i i l t e v i p that such a prospect i s a r e a l i s t i c one. There i s the underlying danger that there w i l l be a continuing leakage of one's women to outsiders without a r e c i p r o c a l return, leading ultimately to e x t i n c t i o n . Here, of course, we see part of the r a t i o n a l e behind v i l l a g e endogamy. In addition, -.both-..the past and the present o f f e r suggestive i n d i c a t i o n s . In the days of warfare i t was common pr a c t i c e f o r raiders to abduct enemy women and take them as wives. ..This betokens strength and aggression, c e r t a i n l y . But a further i m p l i c a t i o n (and aim) of such p r a c t i c e s was that those more powerful grew more numerous at the expense of t h e i r weaker adversaries. In the contemporary scene the same problem i s evidenced, though i n a less f o r c e f u l 235 and dramatic way. Since the opening of the government s t a t i o n and the i n f l u x of single men from outside the area (most of whom are public servants) there has been a steady flow of young T e l e f o l women to these men as wives. This i s the cause of a great deal of anger and anxiety and has on occasion led to violence. Those c l o s e l y r e l a t e d to such women f e a r — a n d i n most instances, r e a l i s t i c a l l y — t h a t t h e i r s i s t e r s and daughters w i l l be l o s t to them forever when t h e i r husbands are transferred to another area. At the same time, even those not d i r e c t l y involved with these young women a l l r e a l i z e a more important im p l i c a t i o n : there w i l l be no women coming back to replace them. Station men normally come unaccompanied, and have no s i s t e r s to o f f e r i n exchange. Local people have l i t t l e choice but to tr y to discourage such matches and, i f unsuccessful, to extract a very large bridewealth-—partly as a punitive measure and p a r t l y i n l i e u of the much more strongly desired recompense i n the 20 form of a woman. Some men see i n t h i s a t t r i t i o n a threat far more gloomy than numbers could ind i c a t e , for they argue that i f such a s i t u a t i o n keeps up i n d e f i n i t e l y , there w i l l soon be no Telefolmin l e f t at a l l . The problem can be st a r k l y phrased as a matter of parting with one's women while wishing to r e t a i n them, or at l e a s t to secure replacements f o r them. Thus the emphasis on s i s t e r exchange and the elaborate c a l c u l a t i o n of debts and c r e d i t s stemming from marriage; the preference for v i l l a g e endogamy which seals o f f marriage networks and turns them inwards; the tendency for second-cousin marriage which draws distant cognates back by transforming them into a f f i n e s and then again into cognates. In a l l of t h i s Telefolmin are trying to come to grips with entropy, with the prospect of the centre f a i l i n g to hold through a t t r i t i o n , depletion, and dispersion. As we have seen, for men much of t h i s r e s t s on the attempt to wield c o n t r o l over women. P o l i t i c a l l y i t has the e f f e c t of balkanization, for there i s a gulf between v i l l a g e s which prefer to marry within themselves and regard exogamous l i n k s between them as r i s k y f a i l u r e s to pursue t h i s 236 p o l i c y . Accidental or not, there are some a f f i n a l and cognatic t i e s between d i f f e r e n t v i l l a g e s , but they do not and cannot carry the s t r u c t u r a l weight of a l l i a n c e s i n the T e l e f o l scheme of things. Here, at the plane of s o c i a l organization, we see one of the fundamental dif f e r e n c e s between T e l e f o l society and the Highlands s o c i e t i e s to the east. Whereas most New Guinea Highlands s o c i e t i e s have a structure founded on large l o c a l i z e d exogamous groups, Telefolmin are organized into v i l l a g e s which are i n most respects self-contained and s e l f - s u f f i c i e n t , turning inward. Here the elaborate and widely ramifying exchange systems, with t h e i r massive p i g - k i l l s and feasts, are a l i e n ; c h a i n - l i k e connections such as the Enga tee or "the rope of moka" (cf. Brown 1973; Strathern 1971) do not e x i s t ; there are no big men whose prestige and power derives from the manipulation of wealth i n t r a n s a c t i o n a l networks. I t i s nonetheless true that T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s are linked together i n s i g n i f i c a n t ways—the most important of which i s r i t u a l , p a r t i c u l a r l y male i n i t i a t i o n — b u t t h i s i s not accomplished through the more f a m i l i a r mechanisms of r e c i p r o c a l exchange or a f f i n a l a l l i a n c e . Instead, the a r t i c u l a t i o n i s through the a n c e s t r a l v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p , the seat of the men's c u l t and the centre of the T e l e f o l world. And though I w i l l defer discussion of the c u l t and the r o l e of T e l e f o l i p for a' subsequent section, the s t r u c t u r a l theme i s very much the same, for T e l e f o l i p i s the centre and the organizational problem i s how to draw i n men from outlying v i l l a g e s back to the centre again. Writ large i n t h i s fashion, what I have c a l l e d entropy can be seen as the o rganizational r e f l e x of some of the c e n t r i f u g a l aspects of T e l e f o l society. At the l e v e l of kinship, t h i s is..the problem of r e l i n q u i s h i n g women to others, which men attempt to resolve through s i s t e r exchange and endogamy. This i s likewise evident i f we look at matters from the standpoint of v i l l a g e organization, and we see other aspects of the same problem i n the tendency for autonomous households to disperse i n the bush. But these are only the o r g a n i z a t i o n a l — a n d perhaps to the outsider, the most v i s i b l e — d i m e n s i o n s of 237 entropy. In personal terms i t represents the p l i g h t of Welagim, a man whose wife had run away and whose daughter nearly did so, and who began l i f e as an orphan (his father was k i l l e d by Falamin) and ended h i s l i f e i n l o n e l i n e s s (he died of pneumonia i n 1979). Entropy-—b i n i m a n , 'to d i s s i p a t e , become nothing, to end or be exhausted'-—Is a problem to Telefolmin i n a sense f a r transcending the p e c u l i a r i t i e s of t h e i r s o c i a l structure or features of organization. For them i t i s a p o t e n t i a l inherent i n the world, one of the basic conditions of existence. To return to the opening section of t h i s chapter, T e l e f o l order i s posited i n the face of what they recognize as the world's tendency towards l o s s , contingency, d i s s o l u t i o n , and chaos. In t h e i r attempts to order society or t h e i r l i v e s they carry with them the sense that they are bucking the trend: young g i r l s w i l l run away to strangers i f you.let them, wives w i l l desert you i f they f e e l neglected or piqued, c h i l d r e n w i l l leave i f unhappy; weeds grow i n an untended garden, and the bush w i l l reclaim i t s own; grass w i l l overrun the v i l l a g e plaza i f there i s trouble and people keep away. v. Entropy i n T e l e f o l Cosmology The basic T e l e f o l view of the world and of man's place within i t i s i n essence very simple: man's world i s on the wane. The Telefolmin w i l l eventually pass out of existence as a people and the w o r l d — t h e i r w o r l d — w i l l come to a close. The ultimate end can come about i n a few d i f f e r e n t ways. If a woman should give b i r t h to a baby boy who i s already wearing a set (or mafuum) i n i t i a t i o n headdress, the world w i l l be f i n i s h e d (biniman kelantemu). Should so many have died that Bagelam, the land of the dead, be f u l l , the end w i l l be at hand. In any event, the T e l e f o l cosmos w i l l come to i t s i n e v i t a b l e f i n i s h a f t e r . t h e twenty-seventh r e b u i l d i n g of the T e l e f o l i p , the s p i r i t house 21 (yolam) of a l l Telefolmin. I t w i l l likewise come to an end i f men f a i l to r e b u i l d i t . 238 This view of the world contains a statement about the ultimate nature of the fate of man and h i s p r o j e c t s , but i t s relevance to Telefolmin i s much more immediate than a mere s t i p u l a t i o n that i n some remote future a l l things w i l l come to an end. Our own cosmology t e l l s us that eventually the sun and our universe w i l l run down and that there w i l l be a f i n a l end to our existence, but t h i s i s of l i t t l e concern i n our day to day l i v e s . For us a larger issue i s perhaps mortality, but t h i s i s a personal issue that seems not to touch society at large—we can i n some sense balance these implications with the general Western view of "progress" and the sense that one way or another things w i l l get bigger and better a l l the time. Further, we have a general assumption that despite h i s t o r i c a l contingencies " c i v i l i z a t i o n marches on" and that our culture grows through a process of accumulation, a continual summation of i n d i v i d u a l and c o l l e c t i v e contributions and innovations. A l l of t h i s , however, i s quite a l i e n to the T e l e f o l sense of the nature of things. For Telefolmin the ultimate fate of man and h i s world i s simply a l o g i c a l extension of h i s more immediate condition. Entropy i s not a remote end-point beyond h i s t o r y and experience but instead pervades i t , and t h i s conception of things i s rooted i n notions about such fundamental q u a l i t i e s as space and time. T e l e f o l space o r i e n t a t i o n s , aside from such geographically appropriate d i s t i n c t i o n s as upslope/downslope, along/across, etc., are marked by a heavily concentric bias, indicated with terms such as near (mepso) and far (samanim, soman). As with English, these terms can also mean 'close' i n the sense of ' s i m i l a r ' and 'distant' i n the sense of ' d i s s i m i l a r ' or ' d i f f e r e n t ' . These notions are entwined with the T e l e f o l d i s c r i m i n a t i o n between v i l l a g e (or c l e a r i n g , abiip) and bush (sep), and i t i s noteworthy that people seem always to speak of coming to the v i l l a g e (abiip telemin) but of going to the bush (sep unemin). 239 We have already seen some of, the i d e o l o g i c a l dimensions of the vill a g e / b u s h contrast C2 ( i i ) and 3 ( i i i ) above) and t h i s informs the general d i v i s i o n of space into centre and periphery. This corresponds generally with the nature/culture p o l a r i t y developed by Levi-Strauss (1963), and there i s an o v e r a l l sense i n which, entropy may be said to vary d i r e c t l y with distance from the centre. This i s evident i n two major ways: the notion of l o s s , and the notion of uncertainty, opacity, confusion, danger, and inversion. Loss can be understood as a movement away from the centre, a leakage or a t t r i t i o n that can be seen as dispersion. Thus elopement i s spoken of as tagaa kwep unemin, a phrase meaning 'to break o f f and go', which conveys the way i n which men view the loss of a woman to outsiders. In the same vein, i t i s possible to speak of death as a departure, fegep tarn unemin, 'to be picked off and go' or, s i g n i f i c a n t l y , to become l o s t or hidden/unseen (magato tebemin). Domestic pigs (kong) are notorious f o r running o f f and becoming f e r a l or turning into garden r a i d e r s , and when they do t h i s they are said to have 'gone wild' (asit unemin). F i n a l l y , when a taro crop i s poor, t h i s can be spoken of as 'no taro' {iman binim, which also means 'hunger'), but i n fac t t h i s i s seen as the r e s u l t of the taro having 'run away' (dagiinemin). Entropy i n r e l a t i o n to the outside can also be seen as movement toward and encounter with that which i s strange and dangerous. Here we can begin by noting that f ar away places are c a l l e d asittem. Asit i s a word whose meanings include 'raw', 'the colour green', 'unfinished', 'half-cooked (including meat)', 'immature', 'antagonistic', 'improper', 'off the track (both l i t e r a l l y and f i g u r a t i v e l y ) ' , 'treacherous', 'opposed', 'incorrect or mistaken', 'odd', 'other or elsewhere', 'foreign', 'distant', and ' a l i e n or 22 strange'. Although t h i s range i s represented by a diverse number of words i n English, a l l these meanings share a common premise that that which i s f a r away i s d i f f e r e n t from that which i s f u l l y developed and proper (teZet, 240 ?related to the words telemin, 'to come' and Telefol, the name Telefolmin apply to themselves!, This conceptual linkage i s given manifest and concrete shape i n the T e l e f o l p r a c t i c e of keeping the v i l l a g e plaza e n t i r e l y f ree of weeds and grasses: here we should r e c a l l that the word for v i l l a g e and c l e a r i n g are the same (abiip) and that t h i s act serves to d i s t i n g u i s h the v i l l a g e from the bush i n a l i t e r a l way—the green (asit) i s kept out and prevented from encroaching into man's home. We can thus understand how i t i s that the sight of grass overrunning a v i l l a g e plaza means something f a r more s i g n i f i c a n t than simple neglect. When t h i s happens, a l l the people are i n the bush and the bush has taken over the v i l l a g e , whose i n t e g r i t y i s invaded by a l l that the word asit implies: the periphery threatens to overwhelm the centre and a l l that i t stands f o r . The further one moves away from the centre, the stranger and more antagonistic things threaten to become. Thus the bush i s the abode of wild animals such as wild pigs (saaman) and marsupials (nuk) whose r e l a t i o n to man i s antagonistic i n so far as they prey upon his gardens while man i n turn preys upon them i n hunting. I t i s also i n the bush that encounters with ghosts (bagel) or the bush s p i r i t (Bagan Kayaak) or female bush s p i r i t s (aanangen) may take place, and i n the old days enemy warriors l y i n g i n ambush were always a p o s s i b i l i t y . Today the warriors are gone, but biit sorcerers cloaked i n i n v i s i b i l i t y (tiin baalin; they are magalo, 'hidden') are s t i l l around. As one moves from Telefolmin to the land of other peoples, they too become strange or threatening. Some, l i k e the Miyanmin, Falamin, T i f a l m i n , and Dulanmin were out-and-out enemies (waasi or sepwaasi). Others, such as the Ulapmin, Atbalmin, or Fegolmin were instead f r i e n d l y and served as trading p a r t n e r s — b u t even these possessed a l i e n powers. Atbalmin transform themselves into animals to commit theft or sorcery, while Ulapmin and Fegolmin p r a c t i c e a p a r t i c u l a r l y l e t h a l v a r i e t y of sorcery i n which they cannibalize 241 t h e i r own sons. Here, on i t s outermost edges—which i s to say at the greatest remove from the v i l l a g e - — t h e xrorld becomes a hideous i n v e r s i o n of the proper order of things (cf. Middleton 1954; S c h i e f f e l i n 1976:94-117). With a l l these dangers, the outer world of the bush i s opaque, a place of hidden and i n v i s i b l e Qnagalo) beings and happenings, and of confusion which i s expressed i n the phrase una tela keemin, 'to go and come, to be mixed up'. In a s p a t i a l sense, then, the T e l e f o l world fades out with distance, and one of the major themes of T e l e f o l cosmology i s that of maintaining a strong and coherently ordered centre which i s threatened by depletion outwards or by encroachment inwards. When we consider T e l e f o l views of time entropy again becomes manifest as a concern. When men t a l k about the past, they say that Telefolmin were f a r more numerous than they are now, and that Telefolmin were also p h y s i c a l l y larger, but that with each succeeding generation they became fewer and smaller. Men would almost i n v a r i a b l y say of t h e i r fathers or other deceased r e l a t i v e s that they were t a l l (timiti-im) or large (afadlik or kwiinkiim, 'huge') men, and that theiv fathers were even more so. Likewise, men say that taro these days takes much longer to grow and i s smaller than i n the past; that tetip (casuarina) trees planted i n gardens or near villages;; are also slower growing and not nearly as t a l l as before; that i n the old days great numbers of pigs were k i l l e d i n the pig ceremony (kong ban) but that nowadays only a very few pigs are ever k i l l e d at a time; that the pigs of the past were huge while today's pigs are mere possums (nuk) by comparison. I t i s easy to see i n such statements a g l o r i f i c a t i o n i o f the past i n comparison with a l e s s s a t i s f a c t o r y present, and i t i s tempting to speculate that t h i s i s a recent r e a c t i o n to the loss of T e l e f o l autonomy i n the face of domination, by Europeans and, l a t t e r l y , the Papua New Guinea government. But while t h i s i s _ i n general accord with much of what Telefolmin have to say about t h e i r recent h i s t o r y , i t i s a mistake to dismiss such notions so r e a d i l y , f or they are one 242 of the cornerstones of the T e l e f o l view of the world. While i t i s true that much of T e l e f o l l i f e since contact has been from t h e i r point of view unsatisfactory, t h i s i s i n f a c t seen by them as a confirmation and continuation of the course Telefolmin have been on since the beginning of things. For example, when Welagim explained to me that each successive generation of Telefolmin would i n e v i t a b l y become less numerous and p h y s i c a l l y smaller, I pointed to h i s son Tegemsep as evidence that t h i s could not be so, since Tegemsep stood a f u l l head t a l l e r than h i s father. Here Welagim beamed and r e p l i e d that t h i s was so only because he had done exceptionally well i n providing f o o d — e s p e c i a l l y m e a t — f o r his c h i l d r e n and that though Tegemsep was c l e a r l y a large man, he was merely the exception that proved the r u l e . Others had s i m i l a r r e p l i e s to s i m i l a r evidence t h a t — t o my e y e s — T e l e f o l m i n were i n f a c t becoming bigger a l l the time. The notion that the T e l e f o l world i s i n some sense "running down" i s evident not only i n abstract discussion or i n responses to my queries: people would spontaneously remark about everyday events i n these terms. I went with Dakasim to v i s i t some people i n Kubrenmin and happened to notice two r e l a t i v e l y young men limping around the v i l l a g e . Dakasim's matter of f a c t reply was that t h i s was because there were fewer old men how than i n the past. As a consequence, the i n f i r m i t i e s of the o l d — i n t h i s case a r t h r i t i s and s t i f f j o i n t s — b e g i n to i n c r e a s i n g l y a f f e c t the young. When Olmamsep heard that a f r i e n d of h i s had died, he remarked that t h i s was because he had had too many chil d r e n , and had fathered them while he was young. As a r e s u l t he aged prematurely and h i s bones became "wrinkled". Uunsep went out to hunt marsupials one night, but came back at dawn with only two nuk kuyaam. Kuyaam are large possums with grey fur , and are only permitted to old men to eat. He explained that i f he had any sense he would have returned home; immediately a f t e r he shot the kuyaam f o r , as everybody knows, i f the f i r s t nuk you f i n d are kuyaam, you w i l l f i n d no more game that night. When a number of people 243 reported a rash of ghosts (hqgell near the y i l l a g e a f t e r a recent death, I was t o l d that t h i s wa.s normal, for the.dead always come, b o l d l y near at such times to see i f any more of the l i v i n g w i l l be j o i n i n g them. The pr e c i s e l o g i c by which, such statements are constructed w i l l be explored further on. Here i t i s enough to remark that they a l l share a common thread, the notion of entropy and the sense that things are on the wane and that a f i n i s h approaches; further, that t h i s i s an ever-present property of the world at large. I f we return to the temporal dimension for a moment, we w i l l see that t h i s i s i m p l i c i t i n language. The notion that men i n the past were larger and more numerous i s embodied i n the conjunction of concepts of s i z e , quantity and time i n the words afaalik and afek, Afaalik and afek are masculine and feminine forms, r e s p e c t i v e l y , meaning 'large' and also 'numerous' ( i n t e r e s t i n g l y , the feminine form has a sense of being more intense, here, afek being iri..a'sense "bigger" than afaalik). In addition to these meanings, however, both, words also mean 'old' and 'important'. F i n a l l y , afaalik i s the word for an old or important man; the kinship term for one's great-grandfather; the term for 'ancestor'. The word afek, which i s also the name of the Ancestress, the woman who b u i l t T e l e f o l i p and founded the Telefolmin as a people, i s the feminine va r i a n t . In t h i s way the past i s endowed with a t t r i b u t e s akin to what we would c a l l "greatness" and the present (and future) are seen as a departure from t h i s towards "nothingness". Here once again the d r i f t of the world towards entropy appears, and we may note i n passing that j u s t as biniman means 'to d i s s i p a t e , diminish, become nothing', the verb afaaUgenamin means 'to grow, become large'. With s p e c i f i c reference to human a c t i v i t y and intentions, afaalik can be used to mean 'important', ' s p e c i a l ' , and 'wise'; binim means 'not at a l l ' or 'nothing' or 'never', while the r e l a t e d form bisop (both being translated with the Pidgin word nating, 'nothing') means ' i n s i g n i f i c a n t ' , ' f u t i l e ' , 'senseless'. These ideas, then, are f a r from being a s u p e r f i c i a l overlay i n response to p a r t i c u l a r 244 circumstances (e.g., foreign domination), but are instead the premises under-l y i n g T e l e f o l concepts of order and the way of the world. With t h i s as a general introduction we can now go on to have a look at man's fate i n the more s p e c i f i c terms of morta l i t y . We can begin with a story, an utuum sang w e l l known to men, women, and ch i l d r e n a l i k e : Four brothers l i v e d together i n a t r a c t of bush. One day the eldest decided to go out hunting. He went to get a l l sorts of game-—birds, marsupials, everything. As he shot these things, he didn't bring them home, but hanged them up i n tree limbs (to be re t r i e v e d l a t e r ) and continued further on. Eventually he heard the cry of a sing-song b i r d and came to a c l e a r i n g where a log had f a l l e n . The sing-song sang out as i t a l t e r n a t e l y perched and hopped on the l o g . He took a l i z a r d arrow (yol) , f i t t e d i t to his bow, and took aim (he had run out of other arrows). He shot at the b i r d but missed, and i t passed beyond the cle a r i n g where i t landed with a loud thump—it had struck the w a l l of a house. From within the house came the gruff and angry voice of an old man saying, "who knows me?—I'm an old man and no good (mafak) any longer and am nearly ready to die—who comes and makes noise at my house?". When the young man went to the decrepit old man's house, the l a t t e r greeted the young hunter by saying, "oh sorry! My c h i l d has come to v i s i t me!". He in v i t e d the young hunter i n and asked him to s i t down and wait f o r him i n the house while he went to get some food for h i s v i s i t o r . The old man went off to h i s garden and returned with taro and sugar cane for h i s guest—but the taro was bad and p a r t l y rotten while the sugar cane was dry and r i d d l e d with i n s e c t s . The young man ate and when he f i n i s h e d the old man said, "there's a possum (nuk) nest not far from here i n the top of a wild pandanus tree. The possum sleeps i n t h i s tree and I have t r i e d many times to k i l l i t . But I'm an old man, and i t always runs away before I can get i t . Let the two of us go together and k i l l him, I ' l l climb up to the top of the tree, and when he t r i e s to run away you w i l l be waiting at the bottom to k i l l him". And so the two went o f f . When they a r r i v e d at the wild pandanus, the old man showed the good (tambal, good, healthy, f i t ) man the spot at the base of the tree where the possum would run down and t o l d him to wait there. Then the old man climbed high up into the tree. When ,he got to the top, he took a huge stone that he had hidden there and dropped i t . down on the young man below, crushing him. Then he took up h i s drum and put on h i s feather decorations and danced and. sang up i n the treetop before he came down. Aft e r he climbed down from the tree he took up the body of the young man which he c a r r i e d home, butchered, cooked and ate. Back home the.three remaining brothers began to worry, some time had passed and t h e i r elder brother s t i l l had not returned. The eldest of the remaining brothers decided to set o f f into the fo r e s t to look for him. He went along and followed h i s brother's t r a i l , marked by marsupials hanging from trees, a l l of which were now rotten. After some time he came upon the same cl e a r i n g h i s brother had seen, and there the sing--song sang while hopping along the f a l l e n l o g . Like h i s brother before him, he t r i e d to shoot the b i r d but missed. He was t r i c k e d i n the same way, for the singsong was r e a l l y the old man's wife who lured unsuspecting hunters to her husband's house. As before, the young man's arrow struck the old man's house with a loud thump, and the old man c a l l e d out, "I'm not a good man ( i . e . , I'm d e c r e p i t — but also bad) that you should come and v i s i t me!". But when the young man approached h i s house, he asked who th i s young man might be that he came to v i s i t him. The hunter asked i f the old man had seen h i s brother, but the old man l i e d and said he had seen no one—how would he, since he l i v e d so far away i n the forest? Then, greeting the young man as h i s c h i l d , he t o l d him to go and wait i n his house while he got some food for him. When he returned he brought bad taro and sugar cane f o r the young man to eat, and then t o l d the t a l e of the possum: "I am old and alone, i f I had a son or a brother I could get that possum, but...". And so i t went as before, and the old man k i l l e d and ate the young man. Before long, the t h i r d brother began to worry about h i s two elder brothers, and he followed a f t e r them and met the same end. And so only the youngest brother remained, and he sat thinking and worrying about h i s elder brothers. That night he shot a pig and performed the un at ('arrow f i r e ' ) r i t e . In t h e i r house the brothers had men amem, sacred netbags containing the bones (kun = 'bones, strength') and s p i r i t s (usong) of those who l i v e d before. He and they ate the pig, and at dawn the next day he addressed them as afaalik and asked which of them wished to accompany him into the for e s t to look f o r h i s brothers. One-of-these men amem r a t t l e d i n reply, and so he slung him from hi s head and car r i e d him along into the bush. The two of them went along together, following the t r a i l of the others, and as they went they shot l o t s of game—so much, i n . f a c t , that most of i t would rot because there was too much to eat. They came upon the same c l e a r i n g as the others had seen, and the young man shot at the sing-song but h i t the old man's house instead. When the old man c a l l e d out, "who's that?" the young man r e p l i e d with hot words (weng atul), "I c o m e — i t i s ME and no other!". The young man demanded to know about h i s brothers, but the old man protested that he had seen no one and was alone. The young man then t o l d him to go and get some food for him to eat, and good food t o o — i f not, he'd go to the old man's garden and take i t himself. The old man did as he was t o l d , mumbling to himself that t h i s one was another kind of man e n t i r e l y (tenum asit) • He returned to h i s house where the young man was waiting and the two of them ate, and a f t e r -wards the old man tol d the younger about, the possum i n the tree. The two of them went. When they got there, the young man looked around and saw blood and e n t r a i l s l y i n g 246 about, but said nothing. The old man instructed him as he had the others, and then climbed up into the tree. But instead of waiting where he had been t o l d , the young man gathered together some wood and arranged i t i n the shape of a man and put h i s decorations and penis gourd on i t , and then concealed himself a l i t t l e ways o f f . The old man dropped a huge stone on t h i s fabricated man and began dancing and singing, thinking he had k i l l e d the youth. When the old man came down the other was waiting and f i l l e d h i s body with arrows and then beat him u n t i l a l l h i s bones were broken and threw the body into h i s house. When he approached, the old man's wife (who had been hiding under the house) came out dancing and s i n g i n g — she thought her husband was coming, but the young man shot her too and threw her body into the house as well, and then he set the house ablaze. Behind the house was a heap of h i s brothers' bones, and he gathered these up, put them i n a netbag, and c a r r i e d them home. When he got home he put h i s brothers' bones inside the house. He shot a pig and gathered l o t s of food-—cucumber (timiit), gourds (pget), and s a l t (yol)—put i t insi d e the house, and boarded up the door. Then he went off to hunt l i z a r d s . When he came back, he heard the sounds of men eating ins i d e the house. He shot a l i z a r d arrow (yol) i n s i d e the house and heard h i s brothers running from one side to the other. He opened up the door, went i n s i d e , and found h i s brothers there, a l i v e and w e l l . They stayed and gardened together for some time, but l a t e r the youngest brother became angry with the others over food. He scolded them, saying, "before you were only bones and I got food for you". He stayed i n s i d e , and h i s three elder brothers got up and went behind the house. There they had some feathers of the tiyam b i r d , rubbed them on t h e i r skins, and then put them on. They had turned into tiyam b i r d s themselves and spread t h e i r wings and flew up to a nearby branch. The younger brother heard t h e i r cry, and when he saw them he to l d them to come back, that he was only joking about the food. But they didn't answer and instead got up and flew away. There were only a few poor tiyam feahers l e f t , and the youngest brother h u r r i e d l y put these on and took o f f , t r y i n g to catch up with h i s brothers to get them to come back. But they j u s t flew on, and he followed a f t e r them. This i s how tiyam b i r d s f l y , with three i n the front and a fourth t r a i l i n g behind. The t a l e i s dense, r i c h , and complex, and I w i l l only sketch an i n t e r p r e t a t i o n here. P l a i n l y , i t involves more than a quaint story about how i t i s that tiyam birds f l y i n t h e i r p e c u l i a r fashion. I t i s f u l l of reverberating but puzzling references—dead marsupials hanging from trees and an i l l u s o r y one that hunts the hunter from a treetop; transformations into b i r d s ; the repeated reference to l i z a r d arrows (yol) and the mention of s a l t 247 (also yoZ), perhaps a hint at a s p i r i t house (jyoZam) ; noisy rappings of arrows on the old cannibal's house, the r a t t l i n g of the men amem that a s s i s t s the youth, the smashing of the victims by the f a l l i n g stone, the smashed dummy, and the breaking of the v i l l a i n ' s bones. Like a l l myth everywhere, t h i s and other T e l e f o l t a l e s show a profusion of such suggestive r e f r a i n s , and t a n t a l i z i n g as they are, i t would take us too f a r a f i e l d to t r y to unravel them i n t h e i r f u l l n e s s . Instead, I ' l l simply draw att e n t i o n to some aspects that seem immediately pertinent f or present purposes. Themes of death, decay, regeneration, and los s seem to dominate the story, and a l l of these are enmeshed i n the o v e r a l l sense of entropy and recovery. Here our f i r s t s i g n a l as to what may come l i e s i n the f a c t that the f i r s t hunter—and a l l subsequent ones—continues deep into the bush even a f t e r he has found game. He goes further and further away, leaving a wake of dead marsupials dangling from the trees, and from t h i s we may already guess that he w i l l not return home. He comes to a f o r e s t c l e a r i n g , but one that i s merely the r e s u l t of a f a l l e n log. Here a T e l e f o l audience picks up yet another foreshadowing—as should our h e r o — f o r one euphemism for a corpse i s at huZu, ' r o t t i n g l o g ' . The sing-song dancing up and down on the log implies r e j o i c i n g at death, a reading confirmed when we learn that the b i r d i s a c t u a l l y the murderer's wife, who feasts with him on the corpses of h i s victims. When the hunter, who has been thus far successful, f i t s : a l i z a r d arrow to h i s bow, we know something! is.;.up. The blunt-headed yoZ arrow can be used for b i r d s , e s p e c i a l l y i n a pinch. But i t i s not the i d e a l choice, and such arrows and l i z a r d hunting i n general are not r e a l l y appropriate for a grown man, being instead the standard equipment of boys and youths. Thus equipped with a r e l a t i v e l y harmless weapon they rove through the bush, ostensibly to perfect t h e i r s k i l l s and hunt l i z a r d s , but often as not to evade the less engaging pasttime of taro gardening. They hunt l i z a r d s when there i s nothing better to do. Here there seems to be a sign of immaturity, with moral overtones of 248 poor judgment, and we should r e c a l l that as asit means 'immature', i t also conveys the sense of 'strangeness' and distance of the deep f o r e s t far from human habitations. Something i s bound to go wrong, and sure enough, i t does. The hunter misses the b i r d (of course) and by t h i s m i s f i r e s t r i k e s the house of the old man. The old man i s at f i r s t uncongenial, and h i s remarks are i n fac t r i d d l e s that reveal that he t r u l y i s a bad man (tenum mafak). Further, his h o s p i t a l i t y i s n i g g a r d l y — h e only o f f e r s poor fare to h i s v i s i t o r . When he suggests a possum hunt together, the hunter i s taken i n . Thus the old man k i l l s and eats whom he feeds, and the hunter becomes the prey of a non-existent possum and a f a l s e host. Things are c l e a r l y wrong, and i n the old man's place the world seems to work backwards and i n s i d e out. By the time the second brother sets out and follows the t r a i l of now-rotting possums i t i s clear that he and the next to follow him are also doomed: they w i l l not return. Having l o s t a l l h i s elder brothers, the l a s t brother i s alone—and yet he i s not e n t i r e l y alone, for he has men amem and the usong that inhabit them with him ..in the house ( t h i s , by the way, suggests that t h i s i s no ordinary house, but a yotam, a men's s p i r i t house). By now he knows that no ordinary fate has b e f a l l e n h i s brothers, and he accordingly prepared and seeks help from the usong before s e t t i n g o f f . After feeding them properly and sharing a meal with them, one of the usong announces i t s wish to accompany him. Here he i s i n a sense f i g h t i n g f i r e with f i r e , for usong are, l i k e the v i l l a i n , old men—but old men of considerable power. This power i s manifest i n the extraordinary success the youth has i n hunting en route to h i s rendezvous with h i s adversary. He i s now hot (atul-so or mami-in-so) , and when challenged by the old man-eater he seizes the i n i t i a t i v e by responding boldly (his actual words are nita teli. kwal nagai ita kwal 3 using the emphatic forms f o r 'me' and ' I ' ) . Rather than.-being the passive r e c i p i e n t of the old man's d e f i c i e n t h o s p i t a l i t y , he threatens to take what he wants by 249 force. C e r t a i n l y not the approved etiquette between guest and host, but then his host i s not r e a l l y a host anyway. Here, once again, i s an i n d i c a t i o n that a l l of t h i s i s going on beyond man's society and h i s r u l e s , and there i s a d e l i g h t f u l irony i n the cannibal's comment that t h i s young man i s asit, for 23 the s e t t i n g of the action i s i n as^ttem. What happens next i s r e l a t i v e l y straightforward: the old fox i s outfoxed. While the old man plans to lure h i s v i c t i m to h i s death by means of a fake possum, the young man uses a phony v i c t i m to slay the slayer and turn the tables: counterfeit i s countered with c o u n t e r f e i t . Here we should n o t e — f o r future reference—one other d e t a i l of s i g n i f i c a n c e . The youth sees blood and e n t r a i l s (isak and ooZ; note that ooZisak, 'belly blood' means anger). But he says not a word about t h i s , and i t i s c l e a r that were he to do so h i s course would be made d i f f i c u l t , or perhaps even impossible. He sees (how did the others not see?) but remains siZent. In the end, he k i l l s the old fellow t h r i c e over, g i v i n g measure for measure. Shooting i s not enough—he breaks a l l the bones (see below) and then burns the corpse, along with the corpse of the old woman who was i n cahoots with her husband. In some sense i t would be possible for the story to end here, for revenge has been taken. But the young man has a more ambitious aim: he wants to r e t r i e v e what has been l o s t and bring h i s brothers back. He gathers up t h e i r bones and places them i n a netbag and they thus become i n a sense men amem, much l i k e the one he took to accompany him i n the f i r s t place. When he returns home, they are i n s t a l l e d i n the house and treated much l i k e men amem: he feeds them pig and cucumbers and s a l t , things that usong l i k e to eat very much. He d i s c r e e t l y boards up the door. But then he seems to take a retrograde step, since he wanders o f f to hunt l i z a r d s . Here again t h i s may serve to a l e r t a T e l e f o l audience to the prospect of further p l o t complications. His next act seems to confirm t h i s , for when he 250 hears h i s brothers i n the house he f i r e s a l i z a r d arrow ins i d e , This i s a p l o t symmetry with a d i f f e r e n c e , f o r i t evokes the previous episode at the old cannibal's house, but here the arrow goes i n instead of bouncing o f f . whatever the case, i t i s a strange way to confirm the r e v i t a l i z a t i o n of one's dead brothers and by i t s l i n k with the encounters with the old man seems to betoken another antagonism. Shortly thereafter he speaks his anger about food to h i s brothers (who were themselves once food). He goes further and i n s u l t s and shames them not only by claiming c r e d i t f o r t h e i r l i v e s , but by a l l u d i n g to them as mere bones. This i s very serious t a l k i n Telefolmin, bad t a l k •(weng.mafak), and reference to a recent death to a r e l a t i v e of the deceased can provoke v i o l e n t anger; likewise, the suggestion to a man that he i s aging or may die (and become worm and maggot fodder) i s a grave i n s u l t l i k e l y to end i n violence ( i t i s a standard ground for divorce). How much worse, then, when speaking to the nearest r e l a t i v e s possible about t h e i r past death? They leave the house and carry the process of clothing t h e i r bones a step further by donning b i r d feathers. Thus transformed, they prepare to depart. Realizing too l a t e h i s rashness, the young man implores them to return and disavows h i s e a r l i e r words. But i t i s already too l a t e . The brothers leave, and given the choice of remaining alone or going with them, he puts on the poor leavings of feathers that remain and follows a f t e r them. In the end, they are a l l l o s t : as men, they are f i n i s h e d . There i s s t i l l much to the t a l e that remains unexplored. It might be i n t e r e s t i n g to analyze r e c i p r o c i t i e s here, teasing out the r e l a t i o n s between the various meals, for instance. I t would also be i n t e r e s t i n g to ponder the d i f f e r e n c e between the elder brothers—who go for meat and become meat—and the l a s t brother•=—who took bones with him and brought more back. But a l l these must remain loose ends. Instead, we can merely take the most general sense of the t a l e to get a graphic p o r t r a y a l of the meaning of 251 entropy, becoming nothing. What began as a house with four brothers ends empty, the men having l i t e r a l l y flown and become other than men. In terms of the question of m o r t a l i t y , death i s i n some sense an abandonment. But the presence of. men amem and usong suggests that t h i s i s not the only course, and indeed the youth attempts to recover h i s dead brothers and bring them back to l i f e by t r e a t i n g them as men amem. He f a i l e d , i t seems, because he spoke of what should have remained unsaid, and t h i s contains the moral implications of lack of r e s t r a i n t and of immaturity. T e l e f o l l i f e surely o f f e r s confirmation here, as we have already seen i n the case of disputes: an open breach almost always leads to the departure ( f l i g h t ) of one or both p a r t i e s , and t h i s distancing i s e s p e c i a l l y appropriate when shame (fitom) i s involved (cf. Wagner 1967:387). We may suppose that the dependence of seniors on juniors has uncomfortable implications, even i n l e s s extreme s i t u a t i o n s . But the youth's f a i l u r e i s perhaps even more complex than t h i s . For one thing, r e l a t i o n s between men and usong are every b i t as contingent as r e l a t i o n s between the l i v i n g , and usong, l i k e men, may depart of t h e i r own v o l i t i o n . Beyond t h i s , there i s a further d i f f i c u l t y which remains i m p l i c i t and unstated: those who die v i o l e n t deaths cannot be brought back to the yolam as usong. Thus the youth's attempts to transcend the consequences of m o r t a l i t y f or h i s brothers were f u t i l e , and h i s rash speech not only shamed and in s u l t e d h i s brothers i n the ordinary sense: i t revealed them as imposters as w e l l . This story, upon which I have lavished so much attention, i s l i k e most other T e l e f o l narratives i n that i t can shed l i g h t on how Telefolmin comprehend the world. But i t i s , a f t e r a l l , only a story t o l d round evening f i r e s . Being an utuum sang, the events are not n e c e s s a r i l y believed to be true. I t s value i s mainly as entertainment (story t e l l i n g i s a f i n e l y developed a r t i n Telefolmin) and perhaps as an oblique form of moral 252 i n s t r u c t i o n . Let us turn, then, to T e l e f o l views of m o r t a l i t y that are not seen as f i c t i o n . When Telefolmin die, several d i f f e r e n t sorts of fate await them depending upon who they are, how they led t h e i r l i f e , and how they died. When infants die t h e i r bodies are often cast into swamps, and there are no further consequences for them or for the l i v i n g . As i n f a n t s , t h e i r sinik, here t r a n s l a t a b l e as ' s p i r i t ' , i s poorly developed. This i s evidenced p r i m a r i l y i n t h e i r whining natures and t h e i r i n a b i l i t y to hear (which i s also the a b i l i t y to understand, tinangkamin), to t a l k , and sometimes to see (which i s also to know, utamamiri). Water i s i n i m i c a l to sinik and extinguishes or washes i t away. In the case of an i n f a n t , then, di s p o s a l i n a swamp or other wet place assures i t s end. This also.means that those who die by drowning or those whose bodies are tossed i n water (as was sometimes done with enemy corpses) simply cease to e x i s t . For a l l other deaths, however, there are three a l t e r n a t i v e modes of existence for the sinik: bagel, momoyok, and usong. Bagel are what we would c a l l ghosts, and t h i s seems to be the fate of most Telefolmin. As a r u l e bagel have nothing to do with the l i v i n g . They impose no demands, nor can they be of any help: they are simply and irrevocably gone. From time to time Telefolmin encounter bagel i n the bush, but these remain merely strange and inconsequential experiences. Occasionally bagel may be seen nearer to hand, e s p e c i a l l y i f a death has recently occurred. P r e c i s e l y how t h i s happens, nobody i s sure, f o r bagel are supposed to dwell fa r o f f to the west i n an underground land c a l l e d simply Bagelam, the Ghost Place or Land of the Dead. When a person dies t h e i r sinik becomes a bagel almost immediately and may sometimes hover near the corpse for some time, f r i g h t e n i n g anyone nearby. The t r a d i t i o n a l T e l e f o l means of disposing of the dead i s to place the body on an exposure platform (ilet) i n a garden belonging to the deceased. Af t e r the corpse i s i n place no taro may be harvested from 253 t h i s garden, and i t i s the p r a c t i c e to uproot and burn t h i s person's taro, s t a l k and a l l . At the same time, any pigs belonging to the deceased are slaughtered and d i s t r i b u t e d to mourners and payments of bonang a x e made to those outside the immediate family who had any outstanding claims or were simply e s p e c i a l l y close f r i e n d s . This i s done p a r t l y to ease t h e i r sorrow and to soothe t h e i r anger at the death. In general Telefolmin do;not take the los s of death l i g h t l y , and while those intimate with the deceased w a i l inconsolably, others are l i k e l y to give vent to t h e i r anger at the loss by chopping down banana trees, hacking at the deceased's house with axes, or making angry accusations and recriminations to the e f f e c t that had the dead person's family looked a f t e r them better they would s t i l l be a l i v e . Mourning periods are v a r i a b l e , ranging from a few days to a few weeks, and i n the case of spouses, even longer. During t h i s time a l l v i l l a g e r s must remain i n the v i l l a g e , drumming and dancing i s prohibited. I t i s s p e c i f i c a l l y forbidden to plant new gardens or to make garden f i r e s .at t h i s time, and i f people go to the bush i t may only be for the purpose of harvesting taro to bring back to the v i l l a g e f o r t h e i r meals. Sometimes near the end of the mourning period the men w i l l stage a c o l l e c t i v e wild p i g hunt, which i s said to get r i d of the sorrow. Mourning o f f i c i a l l y ceases with the slaying of a domestic p i g , the ataanket kong ('the pig of the flower of the sun') which i s marked by the removal of yellow mourning clay (tol) and i t s replacement with f e s t i v e red ochre (bagan). From t h i s point on r e j o i c i n g , drumming, and singing are once again possible and the r e s t r i c t i o n s on v i l l a g e r s are l i f t e d . While others go about t h e i r business, spouses of the deceased may remain i n t h e i r own personal mourning, continue to wear tol. Sometimes they wear keepsakes of the deceased around t h e i r necks, such as an arrow point (or nowadays a shotgun s h e l l ) or a chip of wood from a tree f e l l e d i n garden making, or, i f a woman has died, a taro scraper. In the case of a woman whose husband has died, she w i l l allow her h a i r to go uncut for s i x months or more; when she cuts her h a i r she i s 254 ready to resume normal l i f e and may remarry i f she wishes (preferably to a brother or cousin, of her..husband, but t h i s i s a matter of her own choosing). A l l of these things p e r t a i n to the l i v i n g , f o r shor t l y a f t e r the death—sometimes immediately-—the hagel begins h i s or her journey to Bagelam. Though some bagel are reluctant to leave, by the time the f l e s h has a l l rotted away from t h e i r bones they too w i l l have gone. Regardless of the bagel's home v i l l a g e , the f i r s t stage i n the journey i s to return to T e l e f o l i p . The houses of T e l e f o l i p are a l l r e b u i l t on t h e i r o r i g i n a l s i t e s from one generation to .the next. The most important houses are those of the men's c u l t complex, including the T e l e f o l i p i t s e l f , the amogeen ('house-mother') of a l l the Telefolmin. But i n T e l e f o l i p there i s also the f i r s t family house (unangam'), b u i l t by Afek h e r s e l f . Unlike any other house i n Telefolmin, t h i s house i s s t r i c t l y i n h e r i t e d by an i n d i v i d u a l who also-—unlike any T e l e f o l m i n — has an i n h e r i t e d personal name, Sayimin. She i s the most d i r e c t descendant of Afek h e r s e l f , being the eldest daughter of the eldest daughter of the eldest daughter... of Afek ( i . e . , by m a t r i l i n e a l primogeniture). She i s the guardian of t h i s house, one of whose hearth-posts i s placed i n an oversize hole i n the ground below. This i s the entry way through which a l l bagel pass from the land of the l i v i n g and make t h e i r way along the underground road (bagel ilep) leading to Bagelam. The dead pass down t h i s road, which roughly follows the course of the Ok Tekin (Sepik) as far as the junction with the Ok Ham, over which tower the two mountains of I l t i g i n and Abemtigin ('sacred/tabu/forbidden mountain'). Here there i s a fork i n the road. One fork heads due west (approximating the course of the Ok Ham) under T i f a l m i n country and the Hindenburg range, under Bultem (the c e n t r a l v i l l a g e of the re l a t e d Opkeemin [Wopkaimin] people), and to Bagelam proper; the other fork follows the course of the Ok Tekin north-west i n the d i r e c t i o n of Atbalmin country. Over t h i s j unction presides a being known as I l t i g i n Kayaak, with the l e s s well-known name of B i s i i l k i . 255 B i s i i l k i i s a huge dog whose name means "the greedy one" (a f t e r bisiil, dog-l i k e 'greed/haste', e s p e c i a l l y i n eating). B i s i i l k i i s the guardian of the road to Bagelam and Telefolmin have good reason to fear him, B i s i i l k i has two tasks. One i s to see to i t that the bagel do not return to the land of the l i v i n g but remain i n t h e i r underground abode. His second task i s to allow those whose l i v e s did not contravene Afek's p r o h i b i t i o n s (tabus) to pass peacefully on to Bagelam. But those who v i o l a t e d food tabus, the tabus of the men's c u l t , or other r e g u l a t i o n s — i n p a r t i c u l a r the incest tabu and the p r o h i b i t i o n on eating one's own pigs (dubung—see the following section) meet a d i f f e r e n t reception from him. These people, whose conduct i t s e l f i s thought of as greed, are speedily devoured by him and emerge along the bad road from hi s anus as feces. After t h i s they suff e r great pain as they are again devoured by worms and snakes and then proceed to a lake of f i r e . What happens to them a f t e r that nobody knows. Nor i s anybody c e r t a i n of the conditions i n Bagelam e i t h e r , f o r that matter, for B i s i i l k i sees to i t that there i s no communication back and f o r t h , although a few mediums (usong) have from time to time caught glimpses behind h i s back. Bagelam and the bagel are opaque, unknown, and hidden (magalo), and there i s l i t t l e more one can say about them. Not a l l Telefolmin become bagel, however. Those who die i n violence or bloodshed cannot become bagel (or usong e i t h e r , f o r that matter). Instead, they become momoyok. Momoyok are known by a l t e r n a t i v e names as w e l l , the most common of which are saamin ( l i t e r a l l y , 'enemy children/descendants') or saatan (a v ariant from of the same name). I t should be noted that t h i s applies not only to the victims of warfare, accidents, or other such mishaps but also includes women who die i n c h i l d b i r t h and the victims of sorcery. Momoyok do not dwell i n Bagelam but have t h e i r own abode i n caves high up i n the mountains to the east of T e l e f o l i p , at I f a a l t i g i n or I f a a l a b i l p , Unlike bagel, momoyok impinge on the world of the l i v i n g . V i s u a l l y they o f f e r a hideous aspect, f o r they are red (isaklut, 'red, blood-like') and t h e i r heads 256 are severed from t h e i r torsos. While at t h e i r home of I f a a l a b i i p they may put t h e i r heads on from time to time, But they generally remove them before venturing f o r t h and the w h i s t l i n g sound they make when they f l y or walk issues from t h e i r exposed windpipes. Momoyokonly go abroad at night, and they may be seen as the soman, or f r u i t bats that r a i d people's gardens. In general, momoyok are not well disposed towards the l i v i n g , and people explain t h i s by saying that they are angry that t h e i r f r i e n d s , kinsmen, and v i l l a g e r s allowed them to die i n the manner they did. The t h i r d category of existence a f t e r death i s that of usong. Like momoyok, usong f i g u r e i n T e l e f o l l i f e and are i n t h i s regard unlike bagel who are of no consequence one way or another for the l i v i n g . But unlike momoyok, usong are men who have died a " n a t u r a l " death of old age, and to t h i s extent they are also somewhat l i k e bagel. Usong are unique, however, i n several very important ways. Whereas bagel are l o s t irrevocably to the community of the l i v i n g , and whereas momoyok are i n a h o s t i l e r e l a t i o n s h i p to them, usong are b e n e f i c i a l (though they are under c e r t a i n circumstances dangerous to c e r t a i n people), continue to take part i n v i l l a g e l i f e , and are i n fa c t e s s e n t i a l to i t . We can summarize some of the r e l a t i o n s between bagel, momoyok, and usong i n F i g u r e L l l y ^ o n the following page. How i s i t that usong occupy t h i s s p e c i a l position? To begin with, not j u s t anyone can become an usong. In ad d i t i o n to dying a natural or good death, a man must be p a r t i c u l a r l y outstanding or competent to become „a p o t e n t i a l usong. Usong, as with l i v i n g men of f l e s h and blood, are divided into two categories: iman miit ('taro base/kind') and un miit ('arrow base/ kind'). Here we might note i n passing that women cannot become usong, nor can youths, i f for no other reason than that they are not i n i t i a t e d and are therefore prohibited ( i n t h i s l i f e or a f t e r ) from taking up residence i n the yolam. Usong are thus old men who were eit h e r outstanding gardeners/pig r a i s e r s or excellent hunters/warriors i n l i f e . This of course i s sensible i n 257 FIGURE 10 WEST ABOVE Categories of the Dead EAST USONG D w e l l i n yolam i n v i l l a g e s ; r e t r i e v e d by men to a i d g a r d e n i n g , p i g - r e a r i n g , h u n t i n g , war but may d e p a r t or cause' t r o u b l e M0M0Y0K D w e l l i n m o u n t a i n c a v e s i n I f a a l -a b i i p ; a n t a g o n i s t i c to man, r e t u r n as f r u i t b a t s to r a i d g a r d e n s and a r e h u n t e d i n t h i s form NATURAL DEATH VIOLENT DEATH BAGEL D w e l l i n Bagelam, u n d e r w o r l d v a l l e y i n west; a l i e n a t e d from man BELOW so f a r as they are brought back into the yolam so that they might render assistance to t h e i r fellow v i l l a g e r s i n these p u r s u i t s — a man who was not e s p e c i a l l y good i n eit h e r sphere would not r e a l l y be of much help. Becoming an usong and r e j o i n i n g the v i l l a g e a f t e r death i s therefore contingent on performance while a l i v e . When such a man dies, h i s mortuary r i t e s are handled somewhat d i f f e r e n t l y from those.of other men. Sometimes the body i s taken out from the v i l l a g e s e c r e t l y by the men of the appropriate r i t u a l d i v i s i o n (Taro or Arrow) under cover of night. He i s placed on an exposure platform which men fence with s p e c i a l care to prevent r a t s and other animals from destroying the 258 bones which w i l l be the p h y s i c a l locus of the usong. As the body i s placed on the platform one or more of those present w i l l address the deceased, explaining that they are t r e a t i n g him with su i t a b l e preparation and that they wish him to remain with them instead of going off to Bagelam. Depending on the p a r t i c u l a r man's s k i l l , they w i l l ask h i s help with gardening or hunting, adding that they w i l l look a f t e r him w e l l , keep him company, and feed him so that he w i l l be happy among them—u s o n g who are not well taken care of can cause trouble and i f angry or d i s s a t i s f i e d may leave for Bagelam on t h e i r own so that the netbag containing t h e i r bones becomes 'cold' (di-il-so) and empty of value. The word kun i s the word for 'bone' i n T e l e f o l , but also means 'hardness' or 'strength' or 'endurance'. Thus when Telefolmin r e t r i e v e the bones of an usong they are not only maintaining a continuity between past and present, but are drawing upon the strength and power of the past as w e l l . In t h i s sense, then, the r e t r i e v a l of usong i s one of the most potent means Telefolmin have to combat entropy, and here i t should be r e c a l l e d that i t i s t h e i r presence i n the yolam that anchors the persistence of the v i l l a g e as an e n t i t y . Taken c o l l e c t i v e l y , the usong are the foundation of v i l l a g e strength and permanence i n the face of the world's generalized tendency towards decay, f l u x , and chaos. The recovery of usong from death and loss i s the means of holding the centre fi r m and of keeping (waafunamin) at l e a s t one part of man and h i s works and rescuing them from time. A number of men were quite a r t i c u l a t e about the importance of usong, men amem, and the yolam i n these terms, and one of the most common ways t h i s was explained to me was that Europeans have books and writing while Telefolmin have the yolam and a l l that i t stands f o r ; "men amem axe our books". This i s meant i n a couple of d i f f e r e n t senses, for Telefolmin know that we gain knowledge and some con t r o l over the world through w r i t i n g , as 259 any v i s i t o r to the government o f f i c e would be quickly led to believe, But i n addition to t h i s , the yolam with i t s njen amem and usong has much the same c u l t u r a l s i g n i f i c a n c e that l i b r a r i e s and museums have among us: they are the repository of what i s valued i n the c o l l e c t i v e heritage. But i n Telefolmin, there i s a subtle but s i g n i f i c a n t s h i f t of emphasis. Most of men's creations and w o r k s — i n a ph y s i c a l sense, at any r a t e — a r e ephemeral and t r a n s i t o r y . But men's bones and t h e i r s p i r i t s endure i n men amem, and Telefolmin thus save and preserve the creators rather than t h e i r creations (we might almost say that i t i s t h e i r eveati-vity that i s so painstakingly held and handed on). Despite the emphasis on permanence and con t i n u i t y , r e l a t i o n s between men and usong are s t i l l subject to a number of conditions that characterize T e l e f o l l i f e as a whole. In p r i n c i p l e , the r e l a t i o n between men and usong i s a r e c i p r o c a l one, each rendering various services to the other. But since usong are, a f t e r a l l , men, they may behave i n much the same way. Sometimes they may simply be i r r i t a b l e and grumpy, as old men sometimes are, and when t h i s happens., they may bring sickness to v i l l a g e people, p a r t i c u l a r l y women and c h i l d r e n . I f they f e e l neglected or are l e f t out of consideration when e s p e c i a l l y tasty foods such as pork and eels are eaten, they may r e t a l i a t e e i t h e r by leaving f o r Bagelam or by attacking those responsible. A l l , ..1.• r e l a t i o n s based on r e c i p r o c i t y have a co n d i t i o n a l character, since the state of the r e l a t i o n i s not so much prescribed as i t i s the outcome of performance. This means that people w i l l generally put les s stock i n assurances of goodwill than i n the evidence of actions, and once again t h i s i s true of men's r e l a t i o n s with usong. As a consequence, i t i s not automatically assumed that an usong-—especially a new one-—will i n fact prove to be h e l p f u l . If a good hunter or warrior has died and men wish to bring him back as an usong, they w i l l test out h i s willingness and e f f i c a c y . When he i s placed on the exposure platform, one of h i s arrows w i l l be put i n h i s hand and men w i l l ask him to show them wild pigs. They return the next day. 260 If the usong i s w i l l i n g , h i s hand w i l l be grasping the arrow and i t w i l l be pointing i n the d i r e c t i o n where wild pigs are to be found, They stage a hunt, and i f i t i s successful, t h i s indicates that the dead man wishes to become an usong among them and that he w i l l be of help. In the case of a renowned gardener, h i s bones w i l l be c o l l e c t e d a f t e r h i s f l e s h has rotted, and they w i l l be buried (along with the appropriate r i t u a l accompaniments) i n the centre of a new taro garden. Then the men watch and see: does the taro come up quickly? Is the harvest large? Are there many new st a l k s f or planting? If so, then the man w i l l be a good usong for them and they i n turn w i l l look a f t e r him w e l l . I f not, the bones are merely discarded i n the bush without further fuss, since they are empty: the sinik has already become a bagel and gone o f f to Bagelam. As always, t h i s r e c i p r o c i t y between men and usong i s a two-way stree t . A man who eats pig i n the bush and not i n the v i l l a g e runs r i s k s since the usong w i l l scent the pork on h i s breath and become jealous that the man t r i e d to hide t h i s from him and avoid sharing i t . The usong says to himself, "very well--you wanted to eat meat, and so you did—now I w i l l eat meat too!". The r e s u l t i s that the usong begins to consume the g u i l t y man's f l e s h , and i f not p a c i f i e d by the sl a y i n g of a pig (ugem kong), t h i s w i l l continue u n t i l the man dies. I f men are absent from the yolam and the v i l l a g e f o r some time, the usong becomes hot and angry. He didn't decide to remain i n the v i l l a g e merely to hang around i n a bag and s i t i n an empty yolam or pass nights i n the cold and darkness without the warmth of f i r e and human company. If the men go o f f and abandon him, he may w e l l abandon them too. And i f he remains with them despite t h i s , they had better look out for h i s wrath. To avoid sickness, they must cool down the usong again by performing a r i t e i n which they give him cucumbers and other cool moisture-laden foods to soothe him, and they must be soft and c o n c i l i a t o r y (bet) to him with t h e i r words. 261 Sometimes things don't go well between men and the usong they look a f t e r . Since dealing with the usong can be a r i s k y business, not a l l men deal with them d i r e c t l y , but prefer to leave t h i s to others who are unafraid and know how to go about i t properly. This i s p a r t i c u l a r l y true i n the case of the usong associated with warfare and hunting (un miit kasel, Arrow-base people), since they are often kept for the very reason that t h e i r anger i s f i e r c e and unrelenting: they are hard (kun^-so) and hot (mamiin-so) , and a man who looks a f t e r them must be c a r e f u l not to cross them, for they can be dangerous. One should be extremely c a r e f u l about using hot words or carrying grudges against fellow v i l l a g e r s i n t h e i r presence, for t h e i r enthusiasm for the f i g h t i s l i k e l y to i n f e c t those present, igniting.tempers u n t i l violence f l a r e s . Barbara Jones, who was carrying out fieldwork among the neighbouring Fegolmin, t o l d me that the Fegolmin also keep usong, and those who look a f t e r them r e f e r to themselves as "cowboys"'(they have seen Western movies) because of t h e i r fearlessness i n the face of the r i s k s t h e i r task e n t a i l s . When I repeated t h i s comment to Telefolmin, they understood i t p e r f e c t l y w e l l and nodded t h e i r agreement. I t i s because the r e l a t i o n between usong and men hinges upon r e c i p r o c i t y that the r e l a t i o n sometimes comes to an end. A disgruntled usong can leave of h i s own. accord or remain to cause i l l n e s s . Sometimes usong remain but slacken t h e i r e f f o r t s and drag t h e i r heels when men want something from them—they only do things half-heartedly (atok-atok keemiri). If men are not at t e n t i v e to such h i n t s , an usong may be amenable to seduction away from them. The yolam generally serves as a dormitory for v i s i t o r s from other v i l l a g e s . This i s so mainly because of fears that such men may i n i t i a t e adultery i f they sleep i n an unangam where women are present. But they may also s t e a l usong away from t h e i r home yolam., e s p e c i a l l y i f they are f a m i l i a r with the name and character of p a r t i c u l a r usong i n t h e i r host's v i l l a g e . Such men w i l l make several v i s i t s to the yolam, each time whispering (or even 262 thinking) soothing words and promises to an usj?ng while h i s proper caretakers are asleep. An usong who i s unhappy at home w i l l be open to such t a l k , and may s i g n a l his assent to the v i s i t o r by r a t t l i n g h i s bones. The man w i l l then q u i e t l y take the men amem—usong and a l l : — a n d run o f f with i t or pass i t to a confederate waiting i n the darkness outside, (This, by the way, i s another reason why yolam should not be l e f t unattended.) If those whose usong has been stolen can i d e n t i f y the c u l p r i t — n o t always possible i f there are several v i s i t o r s from d i f f e r e n t v i l l a g e s , as i s sometimes the case when r i t e s are being undertaken—they w i l l of course t r y to get the usong back. But since usong are powerful men with a w i l l of t h e i r own, i t i s unwise to attempt to do so by force, e s p e c i a l l y i f he has shown a reluctance (rooted i n resentment) to help his erstwhile caretakers. More often people w i l l wait to see i f the usong makes h i s new hosts i l l (a deterrent to out-and-out kidnapping unless men are w i l l i n g to k i l l a great number of pigs to win the usong's goodwill). If not, then i t i s c l e a r that the usong i s content i n h i s new home and probably wanted to leave anyway. If you don't look a f t e r your usong properly, they w i l l not look a f t e r you and may run o f f or be lured away by others, j u s t as i s the case with one's women, ch i l d r e n , and pigs. The connection between usong and men can be broken i n other ways. In the days of warfare, a p r i n c i p a l strategy was to ei t h e r sack an enemy yolam for i t s men amem (just as women were often kidnapped) or else to raze i t to the ground. This was one way of c r i p p l i n g an enemy and—with l u c k — p r o f i t i n g from t h i s . Fortunately for Telefolmin, only one of t h e i r yolam was ever; destroyed i n t h i s way, when the I l i g i m i n burned the T e l e f o l i p i n an attempt to destroy the Telefolmin as a whole. The I l i g i m i n very nearly succeeded, and T e l e f o l strength was at low ebb immediately a f t e r the burning of the T e l e f o l i p . But the house was not e n t i r e l y destroyed, and the most powerful r e l i c s escaped i n t a c t . After Telefolmin r e b u i l t the T e l e f o l i p t h e i r 263 strength was renewed and the us.ong added t h e i r power and fury to the r e t a l i a t i o n , which ended the existence of the I l i g i m i n . But though T e l e f o l yolam were not burned i n war, some (Including one i n Derolengam) have burned to the ground as the r e s u l t of accident, and when t h i s happens men amem and usong are l o s t . Men of such a v i l l a g e are demoralized u n t i l a new stock of men amem can be b u i l t up, and are described as "nothing men" (tenum bisop) or "s i c k men" (mafak-so tenum). They are kun binim, 'weak' or 'boneless'. Like men, usong must also c o n t i n u a l l y prove themselves. Sometimes an usong "goes rogue" and makes people s i c k out of sheer s p i t e , or for no reason at a l l . He w i l l cost men many pigs, and i f the people nonetheless die or i f the usong harms repeatedly out of greed for the smell of pork, then d r a s t i c steps must be taken. Men w i l l adopt a d i f f e r e n t tone towards the usong: they may d e l i b e r a t e l y exclude him when b i t s of cucumber or pork fa t are dropped into the netbags of the others i n the yolam, and i f men speak to him at a l l , they w i l l no longer wheedle or cajole or attempt to r e c o n c i l e . Instead, they w i l l scold him with harsh words. If the usong p e r s i s t s i n h i s bad ways, they w i l l punish him by taking him i n h i s netbag to some wet and cold place—perhaps under a rotten l o g — a n d leave him there so that the discomfort w i l l bring him to h i s senses. They w i l l t e l l him that they w i l l only bring him back to h i s nice and warm yolam i f he mends h i s ways. Some time l a t e r they w i l l come back to get him. Men are a b i t f e a r f u l at such times, f o r you may never be sure i f the usong w i l l r e t a l i a t e or not. Nor i s i t c e r t a i n that the usong i s even present with the bones any l o n g e r — h e may have l e f t f o r Bagelam, or i t i s even possible that too much water destroyed him. So for these reasons, he w i l l be t r i e d out once more before being brought back to the v i l l a g e to see i f he w i l l help with hunting or gardening. I f , a f t e r a l l t h i s , the usong p e r s i s t s i n making trouble with h i s v i l l a g e r s , they w i l l t e l l him that they are f i n i s h e d with him and h i s bones w i l l be cast 264 away i n the bush i n a lonely and miserable spot. This i s tantamount to k i l l i n g him, for he w i l l e i t h e r depart at once for Bagelam or be extinguished. Given a l l of these considerations, we can see that while usong look a f t e r t h e i r v i l l a g e and indeed form i t s f o c a l point i n t h e i r house, the yolam, t h i s v i c t o r y over entropy i s neither absolute nor n e c e s s a r i l y permanent. Instead, i t depends on continued e f f o r t by both men and usong, Usong may for a host of reasons absent themselves from, men's a f f a i r s or even-turn t h e i r e f f o r t s against men. The continued residence of an usong i n h i s v i l l a g e turns upon whether men are successful at pleasing him and whether he i s successful at pleasing them. As a consequence, only usong of demonstrated e f f i c a c y (and benevolence) remain i n the yolam. This means, of course, that the most powerful usong are -ipso facto the oldest. Many of these have a number of deeds that have gained them a reputation among men priv y to such things, and some receive new names to.commemorate t h e i r assistance to t h e i r v i l l a g e s . One such i s Tenum Aleben ("two men") because when he went with v i l l a g e r s to f i g h t he once k i l l e d two enemy warriors on h i s own ( i n a T e l e f o l expedition to Nenataman to wipe out the l a s t of the I l i g i m i n ) : as they t r i e d to f l e e the Telefolmin, he caused a tree to f a l l and k i l l them. Powerful usong have names both before and a f t e r t h e i r death, and usong with an unbroken record of extraordinary feats s e r v e — l i k e books—-to t i e together and c o l l a t e c o l l e c t i v e h i s t o r y . Even more to the point from the T e l e f o l view, they constitute i t . This, however, only applies to those usong that have c o n t i n u a l l y proven themselves, and even some of these may be thrown out i f they cause t r o u b l e — Tetumnok of Derolengam i s no longer present i n the yolam for p r e c i s e l y t h i s reason. If becoming an usong seems to o f f e r the prospect of immortality, i t can only be had among the l i v i n g and i s , l i k e everything e l s e , contingent. 265 Entropy, death, and loss can never be defeated but may only be combatted through continued e f f o r t . This can be seen i f we look at how the issues we've discussed appear i n ideas concerning pigs. Pigs are of two r a d i c a l l y d i f f e r e n t kinds, domestic (kpng) and wild (saaman). Here there i s a clear contrast between the c u l t u r a l world and nature, and t h i s i s also a contrast between man's order and entropy. Further, the r e l a t i o n between wild and domestic pigs i n Telefolmin pertains to our discussion of mo r t a l i t y and i t s consequences. Domestic pigs, l i k e humans, domestic dogs (kayaam), and a l l garden crops are endowed with sinik. They are part of man's world and the possession of sinik means that aside from having what we might c a l l 'soul' or ' s p i r i t ' they have consciousness and the f a c u l t y of comprehending human speech. Thus i t i s that men speak not only to people, but to dogs, pigs, and crops, and not aimlessly, for a l l things with sinik can understand and respond. Domestic pigs are fed cooked taro by hand, and stand i n a quasi-commensal r e l a t i o n to those who feed them, who are c a l l e d t h e i r parents. Indeed, domestic pigs are very much l i k e c h i l d r e n , both s t r u c t u r a l l y and sentimentally. The c l o s e s t T e l e f o l approximation of the English word 'family' i s ulimal, and t h i s s p e c i f i c a l l y denotes a man, h i s wife, c h i l d r e n , and pigs. Domestic pigs l i v e i n houses with t h e i r f a m i l i e s , and t h e i r section of the f l o o r (the kong abiin) i s immediately adjacent to the women and children's f l o o r (the cligim—see Fi g . 1 above). Such pigs are i n d i v i d u a l l y named, and respond to them when c a l l e d . They recognize t h e i r parents and generally accompany them when they set o f f for the bush. They both receive and demonstrate a f f e c t i o n , l i s t e n to and often obey t h e i r parents' t a l k . They are thus demonstrably within the moral domain of human society. When they have misbehaved, as the sometimes do by breaking into gardens, they show the sulky wariness that Telefolmin a t t r i b u t e to shame, fitorn. Being f u l l y c u l t u r a l creatures, they w i l l often be lectured at length (cf. Wheatcroft 1973:63); i f they p e r s i s t i n bad behaviour 266 they are blinded, but not so much as punishment as a c o r r e c t i v e , since such a pig's powers of sight and disc r i m i n a t i o n have gone wrong. P a r t i c u l a r pigs are recognized to have p a r t i c u l a r p e r s o n a l i t i e s , and Telefolmin w i l l not permit t h e i r pigs to associate with one that has a poor reputation (much as we do with our c h i l d r e n and t h e i r f r i e n d s ) . In short, domestic pigs are very much l i k e c h i l d r e n to Telefolmin, If we contrast domestic with wild pigs i t becomes clear that they couldn't be more d i f f e r e n t , even though, to our eyes, they are the same animal. Domestic pigs are l a r g e l y seen as female, and t h i s i s p a r t l y because women spend so much time tending them, p a r t l y because over two-thirds of the domestic herd i s made up of sows, and p a r t l y because the a t t r i b u t e s desired i n them are a f u l l skin t i g h t with f a t , heaviness, the colour white, moisture, and d o c i l i t y — a l l of which are a t t r i b u t e s desired i n women. Wild pigs, however, are seen as muscular, aggressive, dry ( t h e i r meat i s often smoked, but t h i s i s never the case with hong), and male: they are epitomized by t h e i r sharp and threatening tusks and red bloodshot eyes, and t h e i r tusks, penes, and t e s t i c l e s are often items of male adornment. In contrast to domestic pigs, wild pigs are not simply n o n - c u l t u r a l — t h e y are a n t i - c u l t u r a l . A favourite image of wildness i s saaman, the wild pig; and a mother may scold an unruly c h i l d by c a l l i n g him a saaman man, 'wild p i g c h i l d ' . This i s because wild pigs have no sinik, which i s here equilvalent to the awareness that marks the world of human r e l a t i o n s h i p s ; a c h i l d who behaves as though he had no sense of others i s acting l i k e a wild p i g , as though he too had no sinik. Wild pigs are of the bush and are the c h i l d r e n of aanangen, wild s p i r i t women, and are beyond man's con t r o l . Rather than being fed and sustained by men i n a moral and r e c i p r o c a l r e l a t i o n s h i p , wild pigs are completely capricious, 24 autonomous, and s e l f - w i l l e d . Instead of being fed by men, they take what they want by force, r u i n i n g gardens, and attack men i f they get the chance. If domestic pigs are i n a sense c h i l d r e n (man) to Telefolmin, i t i s cl e a r that 267 bush pigs are man's enemies (wqasi or saa) , When men k i l l domestic pigs, i t i s always with a touch of regret or sadness, and those who have acted as t h e i r parents w i l l not partake of t h e i r flesh-—more than once I have seen a pig's mother turning away i n tears when her " c h i l d " was k i l l e d . But when wild pigs are k i l l e d there i s no remorse-—instead, a l l r e j o i c e (including women and ch i l d r e n , who may not eat wild pig f l e s h ) , for wild pigs are t r u l y enemies, and there can be no bonds of human sympathy where they are concerned. Despite the f a c t that the d i s t i n c t i o n between wild and domestic pigs i s c o n s i s t e n t l y and r i g o r o u s l y made, i t i s i n fa c t f r a g i l e and f l e x i b l e because transformations between the two are possible. Thus, hunters w i l l o ccasionally f i n d the l i t t e r s of wild pigs i n the f o r e s t , and these may be brought back to the v i l l a g e and domesticated, becoming kong instead of saaman. Though such pigs may betray t h e i r o r i g i n s by w i l l f u l n e s s and red eyes (cf. S. Errington 1971, Weiner 1977:65), they nonetheless are an unexpected bonus i n the hunt. Far more frequently, however, a domestic pig that has been neglected by i t s parents w i l l run off to the bush and become f e r a l , a garden r a i d e r , and a saaman. This i s aggravated i n the case of sows since domestic herds have few boars—when i n heat they w i l l often run o f f to the f o r e s t to become impregnated by a wild boar. Though most such sows return home with t h e i r l i t t e r s , many must be sought out by t h e i r parents, and many again are never recovered. When t h i s happens they have become wild. We can thus see that these transformations, which are mainly i n one d i r e c t i o n , are another form of a t t r i t i o n or l o s s — entropy a g a i n — t h a t can only be f o r e s t a l l e d by human e f f o r t . The a n a l o g i c a l t i e between domestic pigs and humans—particularly ch i l d r e n , and even more e s p e c i a l l y , d a u g h t e r s — i s extremely close. In the next section we s h a l l see that i t i s even closer than we have already seen, for rules analogous to the incest tabu apply to the consumption of domestic pork and t h i s r e f l e c t s (among other things) the fa c t that domestic pigs and one's daughters are both nurtured within one's household only to be given to others. 268 But there i s at l e a s t one sense i n which the analogy points i n another d i r e c t i o n — s o r c e r y , This i s so Because despite whatever a f f e c t i o n people may have for t h e i r pigs, they are reared s p e c i f i c a l l y to Be k i l l e d and eaten, (Here we can allude to a general symbolic continuum that emBraces sexual intercourse, k i l l i n g , and eating*—But while t h i s i s i m p l i c i t i n much of Telefo thought, there i s no confusion Between these d i f f e r e n t acts.) Put Bluntly, though domestic pigs are nurtured as c h i l d r e n i n Telefolmin, they are also victims. Telefolmin do not k i l l pigs l i g h t l y or frequently, and though some do k i l l pigs simply Because others want to eat pork, t h i s i s frowned upon and seems to have a somewhat unsavoury and unseemly aura aBout i t . Domestic pigs must Be k i l l e d on a numBer of s p e c i f i e d occasions, including rather infrequent feasts and r i t u a l s . Aside from t h i s , i t may Be necessary to k i l l pigs to restore health, e s p e c i a l l y i f usong are the cause of i l l n e s s . Here we can see that t h i s i s a form of s u h s t i t u t i o n , the p i g replacing a p o t e n t i a l human vic t i m , and much the same l o g i c applies i n the case of the pigs k i l l e d for the return payment i n Bridewealth transactions. In a c e r t a i n sense, then, pigs are kept so that they may Be given up i n l i e u of people—they are, so to speak, the members of one's family that may Be most r e a d i l y parted with. I t i nonetheless true that they must i n e v i t a B l y Be k i l l e d and thus l o s t . If we consider the fate of domestic pigs a f t e r death, we see that t h i s both p a r a l l e l s and departs from the fate of humans. The p a r a l l e l i s evident insofar as the fate of domestic pigs i s s i m i l a r to that of people who die v i o l e n t l y and become momoyok. The departure consists i n the f a c t that there are no kong equivalents of usong—the bones of domestic pigs ( t h e i r jawbones) are i n f a c t kept (by the person to whom the head—a prized p o r t i o n — was given), but only as trophies and reminders of f e s t i v e times, for there i s no sinik attached to them. Further, i t i s known that the bagel have domestic pigs i n Bagelam, but t h e i r source remains a mystery and i t i s s p e c i f i c a l l y 269 denied that these are the bagel of pigs who l i v e d among humans i n t h i s world. If domestic pigs have sinik but cannot become usong or bagel, what happens to them? As I have said, t h e i r fate i s s i m i l a r to that of humans who die with bloodshed. They do not, however, become momoyok^— they become wild pigs instead. Men's metaphorical c h i l d r e n are destined to become men's metaphorical enemies, and the moral r e l a t i o n between men and domestic pigs becomes ne c e s s a r i l y transformed and inverted when men k i l l them. Here men are i n a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c double-bind, f o r they must k i l l t h e i r pigs for a number of reasons to ensure t h e i r own welfare, but when they do t h i s they are swelling the ranks of t h e i r adversaries i n the bush, whose number con t i n u a l l y increases over time. There i s an i n t r i g u i n g irony i m p l i c i t i n a l l t h i s , f o r i t i s the case that domestic pigs are often k i l l e d i n times of adversity, and one kind of adversity that causes great concern i s the destruction of gardens by marauding wild pigs. If we compare the respective fates of pigs and humans, we can begin to see the outlines of some underlying dimensions of the T e l e f o l world. Death i n e i t h e r case constitutes l o s s , and such loss can be of two kinds: either t o t a l severence, as i s the case with bagel, or a continuing and antagonistic impingement on the world of the l i v i n g , as i s the case with momoyok and wild pigs (saaman). In the case of the l a t t e r there are a number of suggestive resonances. So, for example, momoyok a x e a l t e r n a t i v e l y known as saamin, 'enemy c h i l d r e n ' , and they take the form of soman, the f l y i n g foxes that r a i d gardens at night; wild pigs are also garden r a i d e r s , and come into being i n much the same way as saamin or soman. L i n g u i s t i c s i m i l a r i t i e s here are d i f f i c u l t to b u i l d upon, for there are' d e f i n i t e d i s t i n c t i o n s of a phonological nature (vowel length, tone) that discriminate between these l e x i c a l Items and yet a further one, soman ^distinguished by tone from soman = ' f r u i t bat') with the meaning of ' f a r ' , 'distant', ' d i f f e r e n t ' . I t i s tempting, despite 270 l i n g u i s t i c .caveats, to regard saaman, saaminl soman, s,aman^~wild p i g ' , 'victims of v i o l e n t deaths', ' f r u i t bats', and ' d i s t a n t ' — a s a l l forming a r e l a t e d set within a s i n g l e semantic f i e l d . Whatever the etymological f a c t s , however, one thing i s c l e a r : those members of society (whether human or porcine) who are k i l l e d become transformed into denizens of the world beyond society who nonetheless encroach upOn man's world from the outside. Further, t h i s encroachment threatens the very source of l i f e and sustenance i n a p a r t i c u l a r l y concrete and graphic way—they destroy the gardens, which are both man's works i n the outside (the bush) and h i s means of nurturing h i s world. L i f e i n T e l e f o l can be conveyed by various idioms, but two of the most powerful are with reference to taro (iman) and to sinik'. to be a l i v e i s to have sinik (sinik-so), and we f i n d that not only do saaman and saaminI soman I momoyok make war on gardens, but they are a l s o — l i k e a l l other things of the bush—without sinik (sinik binim). In an important sense, then, they are the embodiment of death which feeds on l i f e . Given a l l of t h i s , we are now i n a p o s i t i o n to attempt a summary of the r o l e of entropy i n the T e l e f o l cosmos. We can begin by noting that, as a general p r i n c i p l e , order decreases and entropy increases d i r e c t l y i n proportion to the distance from the v i l l a g e , which figures as the focus for a concentric ordering of space. Here order i s not mere t i d i n e s s , but f i g u r e s as a concentration of what i s valued i n the T e l e f o l world and which can be summarized as s e c u r i t y and s t a b i l i t y . As one moves outward from t h i s sphere the world becomes incr e a s i n g l y uncertain, opaque, and threatening u n t i l — a t the very e x t r e m e s — i t i s conceived as the very a n t i t h e s i s of human society i n the land of the kundunang. Entropy also has a temporal axis i n which the past figures as a time of potency and greatness, beginning with Afek's cr e a t i o n of T e l e f o l society. Then everything was bigger, better, and more b o u n t i f u l than now, and t h i s corresponds to the movement of man through the T e l e f o l world. 271 Far from being seen as accumulation, progression through time leads to diminution and depletion that w i l l u l t i m a t e l y lead to the end of the T e l e f o l world. Men thus face a universe i n which progressive a t t r i t i o n , whether of women, pigs, p r o d u c t i v i t y or human beings themselves, i s a condition of t h e i r existence. M o r t a l i t y poses the question of loss i n the most dramatic terms with the knowledge that a l l who l i v e w i l l die and be gone. The dead are by and large severed e n t i r e l y from the society of the l i v i n g , and once gone to Bagelam may never return; l i f e c o n t i n u a l l y drains away. One of the chief tasks that men i n Telefolmin face, then, i s to pursue t h e i r projects against such odds, and t h i s i s a task that requires continual e f f o r t . One of the major means at t h e i r disposal i s the r e t r i e v a l of those who were most successful by bringing them back to the yolam as usong. In t h i s way they may r e s i s t the general way of the world, and to the extent that there i s any c o l l e c t i v e accumulation of c u l t u r a l resources i n the T e l e f o l world, i t i s i n the yolam i t s e l f — t h i s i s the true centre of order, s t a b i l i t y and continuity f o r Telefolmin. But even here a secure v i c t o r y cannot be won, for r e l a t i o n s between men and usong are themselves contingent and co n d i t i o n a l , and the assistance of usong can be f o r f e i t e d or l o s t . In the end, i t seems that the T e l e f o l strategy i s to maintain a bulwark of sorts against d i s s o l u t i o n by attempting to draw back and concentrate society's resources while holding at bay and excluding that which l i e s outside man's con t r o l . This seems to be an underlying theme pervading a number of d i f f e r e n t areas of T e l e f o l l i f e . Organizationally i t i s c l e a r e s t i n the T e l e f o l marriage system i n which recovery of women and endogamy dominate arrangements. I t i s almost as though there were a g r a v i t a t i o n a l f i e l d around the v i l l a g e as a nucleus marked by continual attempts to draw women back into the v i l l a g e o r b i t . To resort to another 1 metaphor, the system can be v i s u a l i z e d as a r a d i a t i n g network whose ragged edges are folded back inwards upon i t s centre. From a formal point of view t h i s i s i n e f f e c t a sort of involuted 272 containment which, simultaneously establishes v i l l a g e d e f i n i t i o n and protects i t s i n t e g r i t y by sundering i t from what l i e s beyond. On the cosmological plane t h i s sense of ordering can be seen as an e f f o r t to s t a b i l i z e f l u x by s e t t i n g up d i s c o n t i n u i t i e s which act as b a r r i e r s separating that which i s within from that which i s outside, Telefolmin b u i l d two kinds of fences: garden fences (daam) and the fences which e n c i r c l e the yolam (tobaadaam), and i n each case they serve both to protect and segregate, and to keep things from getting mixed up at man's expense. Thus garden fences protect taro from the surrounding bush, most importantly from the saaman who are men's pigs turned enemies. Yolam fences, i n turn, serve both to contain usong and to protect the women and c h i l d r e n to whom they are dangerous. Here we see the glimmerings of how Telefolmin e s t a b l i s h and maintain order i n the world, by separating and p o l a r i z i n g antitheses, by creating d i s j u n c t i o n . v i . Order and Disjunction: Food Tabus One of the most s t r i k i n g aspects of T e l e f o l society i s that there i s a dearth of p r e s c r i p t i o n s or p o s i t i v e r u l e s for behaviour—much of what goes on seems to be ad hoc and contingent i n character. I t i s d i f f i c u l t to e l i c i t statements which c l e a r l y specify obligations of any fixed kind. For example, the r o l e of mother's brothers i s often strongly marked throughout Melanesia. But i n Telefolmin I neither heard nor extracted statements of the kind: "mother's brothers (must) do X...". When I t r i e d to discover why somebody had done some thing or another, i t was generally the case that people couched t h e i r explanations either i n terms of a d e t a i l e d account of s i t u a t i o n a l f a c t o r s , or e l s e by acquainting me with the biography of the p a r t i c u l a r i n d i v i d u a l concerned. What he (pr she), did was most often sensible i n terms of an i d i o s y n c r a t i c consistency with previous a c t i o n s — i t was "his way" (ilami kugup), When asking about what someone might do, I would often get a d e n i a l of any knowledge at a l l (muu—'who knows?') or else the comment that whatever happened 273 was the p a r t i c u l a r i n d i v i d u a l ' s own a f f a i r (ilami san). When'•:rule-like statements were forthcoming, i t was generally i n the idiom of r e c i p r o c i t y and hence c o n d i t i o n a l : if such and such happened, then such and such other course was appropriate. For example, c h i l d r e n should look a f t e r aged parents if t h e i r parents looked a f t e r them w e l l and if they wished to do so. But i f T e l e f o l society seems s u r p r i s i n g l y lacking i n "do's", t h i s i s more than compensated by the number of "don't's". A l l Telefolmin have a long l i s t of things that they may not do, things which are forbidden and tabu . (amem), and i t soon became apparent that,.to the extent that there are any clear-cut guides to conduct i n T e l e f o l society, these are mainly negative. I t i s quite l i t e r a l l y impossible to consider the f u l l range of T e l e f o l tabus here, but I w i l l concentrate on some of the more s a l i e n t features of the system of p r o s c r i p t i o n s , and the most comprehensive set of such tabus are those governing the consumption of food. Food tabus have only occasionally received systematic treatment by ethnographers, and Douglas (1966) has almost single-handedly brought them to the forefront of anthropological i n t e r e s t i n recent years. Many of her ideas f i r s t outlined i n Purity and Danger have been instrumental i n our understanding of the place of food tabus i n society at large. One way or another, most of those who have written on such topics i n a Melanesian context have drawn upon Douglas' work ( c f . Bulmer 1967; Meigs 1976; Strathern 1977), In t h i s section I w i l l discuss T e l e f o l food tabus as a c l a s s i f i c a t o r y scheme which, i n the s p i r i t of Douglas, can be seen as a comprehensive set of categories that p a r t i t i o n the natural world. These categories a r t i c u l a t e with s o c i a l categories whose own p a r t i t i o n i n g i s aligned with them, and t h i s shares the l o g i c of totemic c l a s s i f i c a t i o n s ( c f . Levi-Strauss 1963a, 1963b), There i s a l e v e l of analysis beyond t h i s , however, since food r e s t r i c t i o n s accomplish two further things i n T e l e f o l society; they specify occasions and r e l a t i o n s of commensality with respect to s p e c i f i c foods, and they also imply ( i n t h e i r 274 p o s i t i v e aspect) a c e r t a i n pattern of d i s t r i b u t i o n and consumption with respect to foods. F i n a l l y , I w i l l show how c e r t a i n features of the system are relevant to the major theme of t h i s chapter, order and entropy. We can begin the discussion with a l i s t i n g of T e l e f o l food r e s t r i c t i o n s as they apply to s p e c i f i c categories of persons. For convenience, I w i l l present these i n tabular form: TABLE IV T e l e f o l Game Pr o h i b i t i o n s by Age and Sex Prohibited To Wild Pigs Eels Birds Lizards Marsupials Snakes Frogs To t a l Senior Men 0 0 0 0 14 1 3 18 Novices 1 1 7 1 19 1 3 33 Young Boys 1 1 7 1 5 0 0 15 Young G i r l s 1 1 13 1 8 0 0 24 Women 1 1 14 1 8 0 0 25 A few notes concerning the tables are i n order. Four of the animal categories l i s t e d have only one r e s t r i c t e d v a r i e t y : wild pigs, eels, l i z a r d s , and snakes. In the case of wild pigs and eels (saaman and aaningok), t h i s i s so because they are T e l e f o l animal categories that consist only of a s i n g l e member, a f a c t which i n i t s e l f i s suggestive. I t should be noted that these two wild creatures can only be eaten by f u l l y initiated-men and are the only ones of the foods l i s t e d that may be eaten within the confines of the yolam: a l l other game v a r i e t i e s are prohibited (amem), and t h e i r names may not be spoken within hearing distance of the yolam or the usong i n s i d e , The si n g l e prohibited v a r i e t y of l i z a r d (gt-iim) i s sogaali-m, a large goanna-like arboreal l i z a r d whose skin i s used for making drumheads: drums (pt) are the p e r q u i s i t e 275 of men who have passed the drum i n i t i a t i o n (gt han) ? one of the l a s t of the seri e s , Only old men eat s,ogqqli-m, .and t h i s i s explained by the fact that the sogaalim's skin i s dry and scaly, l i k e that of old men: they thus have nothing to lose by eating i t , since t h e i r skin i s that way already. The single r e s t r i c t e d snake (inap) v a r i e t y i s utan, a large python that nests i n caves or subterranean holes i n stone. This i s prohibited to a l l men and youths who have begun t h e i r i n i t i a t i o n s e r i e s . Of the remaining categories of animals, roughly half of a l l marsupials (nuk) are marked by some r e s t r i c t i o n s , about a quarter of a l l b i r d s (but a much higher proportion i f those not hunted at a l l are excluded), and the majority of edible frogs (compare Barth 1975:165ff, 182ff; Hyndman 1976). In addi t i o n to these foods, there are three wild animals that are prohibited to a l l Telefolmin and may not be eaten under any circumstances: wild dogs (dunkiiV), the large lowland cassowary (uunok = 'bird mother'), and a monotreme echidna (•igil, with the secret name of nukok or nukogeen = 'marsupial mother'). Here i t i s clear that each of these i s i n some way anomalous, dunkiil being v i r t u a l l y i d e n t i c a l i n appearance to v i l l a g e dogs (kayaam), which are also forbidden to a l l Telefolmin as food, while uunok are huge f l i g h t l e s s birds and igiZ are spiny ground-burrowing animals that eat neither plants nor animals and are ( i n terms of our c l a s s i f i c a t o r y scheme) neither marsupials nor mammals (cf. Douglas 1966 on the Lele pangolin and Bulmer 1967 on the cassowary among the Karam). If we inspect the table as a whole i t i s possible to note some patterns i n the o v e r a l l shape of the food r e s t r i c t i o n s . In purely quantitative terms, young boys have the fewest food r e s t r i c t i o n s , followed c l o s e l y by senior men. On the other hand, youths and females of a l l ages must observe a much larger s e r i e s of p r o h i b i t i o n s on food, and these f a l l most heavily on youths who have begun but not completed the i n i t i a t i o n process ( i t should be noted that t h i s table does not take into account p a r t i c u l a r p r o h i b i t i o n s of l i m i t e d 276 duration that apply during and immediately a f t e r d i f f e r e n t i n i t i a t i o n s of the s e r i e s ) . We can note further that the s i t u a t i o n of females (again i n quantitative terms only) does not change much from childhood to old age, while males go through a r a d i c a l a l t e r a t i o n i n the r e s t r i c t i o n s they must observe. Boys s t a r t out being able to eat a broader range of foods than anyone i n the en t i r e society, and t h e i r r e s t r i c t i o n s seem to be a less stringent version of those for women and g i r l s . But by the time they have begun t h e i r i n i t i a t i o n process that w i l l transform them into men, they enter into the category of persons with the severest r e s t r i c t i o n s i n the society. This changes once more a f t e r t h e i r i n i t i a t i o n s e r i e s i s completed, when as senior men (bisel, 'big ones, adults') they once more occupy a p o s i t i o n of r e l a t i v e l y l i t t l e r e s t r i c t i o n on foods. Though, as we s h a l l see, the s i t u a t i o n i s f a r more complicated than i t at f i r s t appears, the range of tabus which must be observed by d i f f e r e n t categories of people tends to correspond with what are seen as r e l a t i v e degrees of r e s t r i c t i o n or p r i v i l e g e . I f we compare young boys with novices, we can see that the former are doubly p r i v i l e g e d while the l a t t e r are doubly r e s t r i c t e d : young boys may eat a number of foods o r d i n a r i l y a v a i l a b l e only to women and only to senior men—they can have i t both ways; novices are forbidden a number of foods prohibited to both women and senior men—they get i t both coming and going. . In a c e r t a i n sense, then, we can see that while young boys are ( i n terms of the r e s t r i c t i o n s ) both men and women, novices are neither. For example, two p a r t i c u l a r m a r s u p i a l s — kuyaam and daboot—occupy a s i g n i f i c a n t place i n the o v e r a l l system because they are the qu i n t e s s e n t i a l marsupials permitted old men and old men only ( i t w i l l be r e c a l l e d that both novices and adult men are prohibited from eating a wide range of marsupials), Both of these—and i n p a r t i c u l a r , kuyaam—are s t r i c t l y prohibited to any but old men, but with the s i g n i f i c a n t exception that young boys may consume t h i s providing i t i s given to them by old men. At the same time, another m a r s u p i a l — u l e s e e n — i s s t r i c t l y prohibited to a l l men, youths, and women of childbearing age and i s seen as reserved for the consumption of old women. But ules,een may be eaten by both g i r l s and young boys i f an old woman gives them some to eat, Kayqal, a bandicoot, i s forbidden to adult men and women, but may be eaten by boys before t h e i r f i r s t i n i t i a t i o n as w e l l as by prepubescent g i r l s . By contrast, novices are forbidden food that i s forbidden to adult men, and they are also prohibited from eating a number of foods proscribed for women as well. If we view the system from the standpoint of i t s o v e r a l l shape and linkages between s o c i a l and natural categories, there i s a s t r i k i n g pattern i n the d i s t r i b u t i o n of p r o h i b i t i o n s a f f e c t i n g birds (uun), on the one hand, and marsupials (nuk), on the other. Here i t w i l l be worthwhile to explore t h i s to see i f there i s anything further we can learn from t h i s pattern, and a de t a i l e d tabulation of r e s t r i c t i o n s on birds and marsupials appears i n Table V on the following page, To begin with, the general pattern i s that f u l l y - f l e d g e d men may eat v i r t u a l l y any b i r d within the scheme, but that they are prohibited from eating a r e l a t i v e l y large number of marsupials. For women, the pattern i s roughly complementary, i f somewhat more r e s t r i c t i v e : they are forbidden to eat a number of d i f f e r e n t b i r d s , but have a correspondingly larger number of marsupials which are a v a i l a b l e to them but forbidden to men. In t h i s table (page 278)> i n a rough sort of way, we can see a general a s s o c i a t i o n between men and b i r d s , on the one hand, and women and marsupials, on the other. In abstract and conceptual terms, t h i s suggests that men are opposed to women as above i s opposed to below (as Barth claims for the Baktaman, 1975:53f, 280; 167). There i s some confirmation of t h i s i n other contexts, e.g., the t a l e of the young man and h i s three brothers who turned into tiyam b i r d s , and t h i s c e r t a i n l y f i t s with the as s o c i a t i o n between women and frogs and the subterranean utan python. But here we ought to be cautious, for men are also associated with eels, which dwell i n the lowest 278 TABLE V Restricted Birds arid Marsupials Birds Marsupials Forbidden to Men: uunok** igil** uleseen tlooben mangkan inggat agalal biilok bubuk okgeyam sinok ubil kayaal* ilaam kutal* dulfen* Forbidden to Women; uunok** kumsop bogol nelenim tetiin seIman suu sengaa kabeeI biseng dufaal abiim . • yook oga fufalim igil** kutal* dulfen* soobim kutinim kuyaam dabooI ditip kayaal* ^Forbidden;to : both- women and men **Forbidden to a l l Telefolmin parts of T e l e f o l country, i n the beds of large r i v e r s , and while kuyaam, the qu i n t e s s e n t i a l male marsupial, i s to be found i n trees, he makes his home i n holes i n the ground, or even i n caves, j u s t l i k e the utan python. Thus while we can note what seems to be an o v e r a l l or general sort of pattern, we ought to be on guard against reading t h i s too strongly. I t seems we may be on 279 firmer ground i f we review, b r i e f l y , some of the s a l i e n t c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of each of the animals concerned. Here we immediately encounter some d i f f i c u l t y , f o r i d e n t i f i c a t i o n of marsupials proved to be more problematic than imagined, and t h i s i s l a r g e l y because I only occasionally was able to a c t u a l l y examine a few such creatures before they had been singed or dismembered, and the d i f f i c u l t y i s further compounded by my general lack of f a m i l i a r i t y with the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of various species of marsupials. In most instances, therefore, I have had to r e l y on verbal d e s c r i p t i o n s , and many of these are n e c e s s a r i l y vague. With these q u a l i f i c a t i o n s , however, we may begin by examining those marsupials forbidden to men and reserved for women. One.- of the most s t r i k i n g c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of women's marsupials (unang nuk) i s that some of them are not marsupials at a l l , but are instead p l a c e n t a l rodents. (Here I should note that t h i s apparent confusion i s a r e s u l t of t r a n s l a t i o n — p r o p e r l y speaking, i t i s more correct to tr a n s l a t e the category nuk as 'small furry animals', but I have c a l l e d them 'marsupials' because t h i s seems more convenient and because the majority of nuk are indeed marsupials.) Most of these are i d e n t i f i a b l e as ra t s or r a t - l i k e animals, and many of them are found not i n the deep bush but i n or around gardens or the v i l l a g e i t s e l f . I t i s tempting here to suggest that i t i s t h e i r z o o l o g i c a l status and t h e i r marginal l o c a t i o n i n s p a c e — w i l d animals that are found i n semi-domestic l o c a l e s — t h a t make them unsuitable for male consumption but appropriate for women and c h i l d r e n . Telefolmin, however, do not say t h i s . Instead, they point out that these are nuk that women may k i l l on t h e i r own without the aid of bow and arrow. Further, men say that such animals eat rubbish, and that men do not eat them for t h i s reason. (Here i t should be noted that t h i s does not exclude other explanations and could even be seen as a r a t i o n a l i z a t i o n of other f a c t o r s — s e e Strathern and Strathern 1968.) Nuk that f a l l into t h i s category include: sinok, ilaam, mangkan, inggat, agalal, biilok, bubuk, and ubil. Of the remaining; nuk 280 forbidden to m e n — u l e s e e n , tlooben, okgeyam, kayaal, kutal, dulfen-—there are two classes. One set, comprising kayaal, dulfen, kutak3 i s forbidden to a l l of reproductive age. The second set, uleseen, tlooben, okgeyam, affords another s e r i e s of contrasts between men and women,. Okgeyam (.= ok kayaam, 'water dog') i s an amphibious marsupial that sounds much l i k e the North American muskrat, and i s c l e a r l y an anomalous creature i n the T e l e f o l scheme of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n , Uleseen i s said to be awkward, clumsy, and bad-smelling, and men say that they may not eat t h i s because to do so might a f f l i c t them with these c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s (women, on the other hand, are presented as being t h i s way anyway). The tlooben i s likewise a slow and weak t e r r e s t r i a l marsupial, and men say i t i s forbidden to them for s i m i l a r reasons. If we summarize the set of composite q u a l i t i e s manifested i n marsupials forbidden to men but reserved f or women, we f i n d that the system manages to suggest several associations between these various animals and women while denying s i m i l a r associations for men. It serves to p o l a r i z e and segregate a t t r i b u t e s seen i n the natural world on the basis of gender: there i s thus an an a l o g i c a l connection between wildness intruding into garden and v i l l a g e , the consumption of rubbish ( i n f e r i o r food?), an ambiguous r e l a t i o n to aquatic and t e r r e s t r i a l realms, slowness, weakness, awkwardness, clumsiness, bad odours and femininity. A l l these are seen as undesirable for men and at the same time somehow c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of women, and we may further suggest that the underlying theme of these various q u a l i t i e s i s a sort of messiness or d i s o r d e r l i n e s s joined with d e b i l i t y . I d e o l o g i c a l l y , the im p l i c a t i o n i s a s p e c i f i c a t i o n of female i n f e r i o r i t y and the protection of men from such f a i l i n g s . I f we turn to an examination of foods prohibited to womenv.and reserved f o r men, the s i t u a t i o n i s somewhat d i f f e r e n t . Taking the category of nuk f i r s t , we must consider the following animals: kuyaam, dabool, ditip, soobim, and kutinim. Here there i s some d i f f i c u l t y , f o r the p r o h i b i t i o n on 281 women eating soobim and ditip receives no i d e o l o g i c a l elaboration, and the only apparent c h a r a c t e r i s t i c they share i s simply that they are small marsupials. This muteness may or may not be s i g n i f i c a n t , but provides l i t t l e m aterial for a n a l y s i s . In the case of kutinim we are on somewhat better ground. Kutinim i s unique as a marsupial carnivore, described as a quick and speedy c a t - l i k e animal with a spotted skin. As a predator he i s seen as p a r t i c u l a r l y w e l l suited f o r men, who are also hunters. At the same time, some fear h i s spotty skin, and for t h i s reason he i s mainly eaten by old men whose skin has already deteriorated with age. Kuyaam and dabool are the pr o t o t y p i c a l marsupials for men, being the two la r g e s t (and meatiest) v a r i e t i e s to be found i n Telefolmin, and one of the f i r s t things that men say about them i s simply that they are large and tasty, being superior as food. Dabool i s a large tree kangaroo (about the s i z e of a small dog), brown with a white patch of fur on his chest, Dabool i s reserved for f u l l y i n i t i a t e d men, and tends to be eaten mainly by older men within t h i s category. This i s explained i n part by drawing at t e n t i o n to the white f u r , since t h i s connotes the white hair of old a g e — i t i s feared that i f younger men eat dabool before at l e a s t some of t h e i r hair has turned white, then they w i l l age prematurely. Kuyaam i s perhaps the most strongly marked of a l l the marsupials reserved for men, and he has several s i g n i f i c a n t a t t r i b u t e s . I t i s also the most severely r e s t r i c t e d , and i s meant for senior men o n l y — a man may not eat kuyaam at a l l u n t i l the en t i r e i n i t i a t i o n sequence i s completed and he i s granted admission to the katibam, the house reserved for senior men. Further, a man may not eat kuyaam at a l l while his father or elder brothers are a l i v e unless one of them personally hands i t to him under t h e i r l e f t armpit. If a man v i o l a t e s these r u l e s , he runs the r i s k of death for himself, h i s family, and h i s pigs: h i s taro w i l l run away and h i s gardens w i l l not produce. Should a woman eat kuyaam, d i s a s t e r would be instantaneous. Like dabool, kuyaam i s among the 282 l a r g e s t of the marsupials to be found i n the area ( i t i s a large spotted cuscus, Phalanger sp,), and l i k e the dafcool, i t s fur colour has associations with old men since i t i s grey. In addition to these c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s , the kuyaam i s said to be the cleverest of the marsupials i n the f o r e s t , and consequently one of the most d i f f i c u l t f o r hunters to bag. F i n a l l y , the kuyaam seems to be associated with growth and f e r t i l i t y i n some undefined way. It i s for t h i s reason that i t i s permitted for very small boys to eat i t (with the approval of an old man), since i t i s said to make them grow quickly; i t seems to be for s i m i l a r reasons than men say they should not r e a l l y eat i t unless t h e i r taro i s very young and doing very p o o r l y — t h e n the crop w i l l come up quickly. But i f consumed i n d i s c r i m i n a t e l y (even by those q u a l i f i e d to do so), the r e s u l t w i l l be too much of a good thing as people age prematurely and taro crops rot i n the ground. A summary of the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of those marsupials reserved for men's consumption seems to show few of the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s found i n the women's set. Instead, we f i n d these a t t r i b u t e s : large s i z e , much meat, predation (the animal analogue of hunting) combined with quickness, the colour white associated with age, spottiness associated with the dry skin of old age, cleverness, and some ambiguous and i l l - d e f i n e d power to promote growth and f e r t i l i t y . C l e a r l y , at an i d e o l o g i c a l l e v e l , there i s a linkage here between masculinity and features very d i f f e r e n t from those associated with women, features which seen from the male point of view serve to underwrite male s u p e r i o r i t y . While the women's foods may i n a general sense be seen as somehow d e b i l i t a t i n g , which s u f f i c e s to explain the fact that men are prohibited from consuming them, the men's foods are held i n high esteem. At the same time, i t i s perhaps worth noting that there i s an underside to t h i s , given the preoccupation with aging and decay with reference to the men's foods: there i s the hint that men are i n some sense more vulnerable here than women. 283 So far our at t e n t i o n has been concentrated on the category of marsupials. When we turn to an examination of the category of birds a range of other features comes into view. Of the birds mentioned, a number are birds of prey. Among these are; bogol, the black and white harpy eagle; nelinim, a reddish hawk; tetiin, 'the dancer', another reddish hawk; suu, another red b i r d of prey (?a l o r i k e e t ) ; and selman, a large nocturnal eagle owl with white and russet hroxm feathers. These birds are a l l hunters, they make marsupials t h e i r main prey, and the f i r s t among these i s bogol. Bogol has strong associations with warfare, and Telefolmin would decorate themselves with white bogol feathers and black body paint when they went o f f to f i g h t the enemy. Bogol can only be eaten a f t e r the completion of the bogol ban, which i s now discontinued but was the l a s t of the s e r i e s of male i n i t i a t i o n s . The bogol ban was mainly directed towards success i n warfare and hunting, belonging to the Arrow Side, and t h i s r e i n f o r c e s the associations of the bogol as the k i l l e r with an unerring eye and tenacious grasp. Women are prohibited from eating bogol and other b i r d s of prey as a matter of protection, f o r should they do so they would suffe r gynecological troubles that might prove f a t a l and would c e r t a i n l y end t h e i r childbearing and pig-rearing c a p a c i t i e s (see the t a l e about the pregnant woman, the kuyaam, and the bogol, Chapter 2 above). Aside from the birds of prey, however, there are a number of other birds that do not at f i r s t seem to constitute any clear-cut grouping. This being the case, I w i l l simply take them i n turn. Three of the birds are e s p e c i a l l y prized as game. These are abiim, yook, and oga, a l l of which are pigeons that have much meat and f l y i n f l o c k s , making them r e l a t i v e l y easy to hunt. There are two other prized game birds as w e l l , one being the mountain cassowary (Jamsop), an extremely large f l i g h t l e s s b i r d akin to the A u s t r a l i a n emu, and the other being the sengaa, a large black bush fowl that broadly resembles a scaled-down version of the cassowary (see G e l l 1975:281). Both 284 of these birds are uncommonly large, black, and t e r r e s t r i a l . In addition, the s-engaa i s seen as a sort of natural gardener, since i t sweeps up leaves on the forest f l o o r into t i d y mounds i n which i t s red eggs are deposited for incubation. In addition, the sengaa has associations with clandestine sorcery, i t s feet providing one of the materials used i n the biit ban. The kwnsop i s known mainly for i t s elusiveness and speed, and avoids man. At the same time, i t i s a dangerous adversary when cornered and i s e n t i r e l y capable of disemboweling man or dog with powerful kicks from i t s claw-tipped legs. There i s , however, one puzzling aspect of the cassowary that I w i l l merely note here: i t seems to be seen as symbolically feminine rather than masculine i n character. In addition to these two t e r r e s t r i a l b i r d s , there i s another b i r d , the fufalim, that i s t e r r e s t r i a l i n a d i f f e r e n t sense. The fufalim i s a cave swallow that emerges at dusk and i s black on the top and white on the underside. Another small b i r d that also figures i n the set i s biseng, the King B i r d of Paradise. Biseng i s bright red, and i s said to have originated as the r e s u l t of adultery and violence: an elder brother caught his younger brother i n adultery with hi s wife, and so he k i l l e d h i s younger brother and placed h i s bleeding heart i n the thorns of a wild sago palm. It i s from t h i s heart that biseng originated.• One of the larger birds of the set i s the h o r n b i l l , kabeel. Kabeel i s the p r o t o t y p i c a l image of manhood, and i s seen by Telefolmin to embody many of the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s they wish to encourage i n youths. They are large, strong f l i e r s ; they are clever and resort to ruses to get what they want; they mate for l i f e and are s o c i a l birds at the same time and conscientiously provide for t h e i r young i n nests b u i l t i n holes i n tree trunks. The h o r n b i l l ' s long beak has d e f i n i t e p h a l l i c associations, and can sometimes be substituted for the kameen gourd that men normally wear as a penis covering. F i n a l l y , we come to the l a s t b i r d of the set., dufaal, a red parrot whose feathers form the basis of f e s t i v e headdresses with which Telefolmin adorn themselves. 285 The set of bir d s reserved for men and prohibited to women seems broadly to break down into two major c l u s t e r s : those birds that hunt, and those that are good to hunt, i . e , , large game b i r d s , The f i r s t c l u s t e r has already been enumerated, and the second comprises: kumsop, sengaa, kabeel, abiim, yook, and oga. This s t i l l leaves a rather large residue unaccounted for , however, and i t turns out there i s another c l u s t e r i n g of birds that cross-cuts these two: birds which have the colour red (isaklut), Following T e l e f o l a t t r i b u t i o n s , the following birds are marked by the colour red: nelenim, tetiin, suu, abiim (eyes and f eet), yo'ok (feet),oga ( f e e t ) , kumsop (almost e n t i r e l y black, but with w a t t l e - l i k e appendages and red g e n i t a l s ) , sengaa (black but lays red eggs), biseng, and dufaal- This accounts for a l l except selman, the eagle owl, and the three birds of black and white plumage, bogol, kabeel, and fufalim. Here i t i s worthwhile to pause to consider how i t i s that women are forbidden, as men say, to eat red bi r d s . The colour red has strong associations with blood, the colour term being derived from the word for blood ('blood' = isak; 'red' = isaklut = isak + ulutap, ' b l o o d - l i k e ' ) . Men say that the colour red i s not good for women. In the context of red b i r d s , i t i s feared that i f women were to eat these they would pass blood i n t h e i r urine or suffer from very heavy menstrual loss of blood. But t h i s i s not the only case i n which blood or redness i s said to be i n i m i c a l to women. During t h e i r menses, for example, they are not permitted any kind of red pandanus, since t h i s would increase t h e i r menstrual flow and they would be i n danger of bleeding to death. Red o i l pandanus (em) i s i n other contexts associated with blood—when prepared (the exclusive prerogative of men) i t produces a th i c k red o i l y sauce, and people sometimes eat t h i s when they are t i r e d , saying that they change or renew and replace t h e i r blood i n t h i s way. Women are also prohibited from eating a number of garden crops. These are a l l men's crops, most of which seem to have a p h a l l i c character (e.g., yams, waan aalab, waan amem; c e r t a i n v a r i e t i e s of sugar cane, 286 kwet tenep, kwet afaayim, and others; c e r t a i n v a r i e t i e s of bananas, suum aalab, suum umkan, suum toen and others; c e r t a i n v a r i e t i e s of o i l pandanus, em naam, em ayaap, and others), and most of these are crops which grow above ground. But a l l such crops—bananas, yams, sugar cane, pandanus—are not forbidden, and although t h i s does not exhaust the inventory, a l l of the v a r i e t i e s that are red i n colour are so prohibited. There i s , i n addit i o n to t h i s , one v a r i e t y of taro that i s forbidden to women (and c h i l d r e n ) : iman tobaal, a taro distinguished by a mottled red and white f l e s h , which men l i k e n to meat. S i g n i f i c a n t l y , men o f f e r p r e c i s e l y the same reason for these p r o h i b i t i o n s as they do f o r the ban on red b i r d s . F i n a l l y , women are also prohibited from touching the red cordyline plant, tobaa, with which the yolam i s fenced, and t h i s too i s said to be for t h e i r own protection. It i s c l e a r that women are to be segregated from the colour red, and from i t s a s s o c i a t i o n with blood. Further, i t i s also clear that t h i s i s done i n order to protect t h e i r procreative and l i f e - g i v i n g powers, and i t i s perhaps for t h i s reason that menstrual blood (nok isak—'vagina blood') i s so dangerous, requiring women to be segregated i n the no man's land of the dungam. We might add that from t h i s perspective menstruation seems to be a form of bloodshed that i s potent because i t i s , so to speak, "mixed u p " — i t i s i n a sense a f r u i t l e s s bloodshed, since i t i s not the blood of the hunt (which produces meat). At the same time, the f a c t that a woman i s menstruating indicates that she i s not pregnant—she sheds blood instead of bearing a c h i l d . Here we may be able to make some sense of some of the tabus surrounding menstruation. I f a husband has contact with h i s wife during her period, he w i l l be blinded by a red fog and h i s hunting w i l l be f r u i t l e s s . I f she ventures into the v i l l a g e plaza, i t becomes a muddy mess. If she goes into the true bush she w i l l be attacked by a bush s p i r i t , human becoming prey i n the bush. If she goes into a garden, i t w i l l f a i l , the taro being infected by a red rot c a l l e d 'blood' 287 (isak), while wild pigs and rat s ravage the crop—whatever might remain to be harvested w i l l not cook properly and w i l l remain raw (asit). and.of the bush— men say i t would be l i k e xvfild (inedible) taro. The segregation of women, then, from red things (and creatures such as birds of prey, or dangerous birds such as the cassowary, or bir d s l i k e the biseng and sengaa which are associated with k i l l i n g ) protects against the impairment of t h e i r l i f e - g i v i n g powers (childbearing,. gardening) and also f o r e s t a l l s the exaggeration of the one aspect of feminine physiology that i s both associated with procreation and betokens i t s absence: menstruation. Here we can see that i n a sense women are p o l a r i z e d i n r e l a t i o n to men's engagement i n bloodshed by minimizing t h e i r own r e l a t i o n to the flow of blood. Hence the p r o h i b i t i o n on red things for women serves to heighten the contrast between them and men and f i r m l y a l l o c a t e s them to processes of l i f e - g i v i n g , a:.>prohibition echoed i n the tabu on women touching arrows or shields (at kom, which are decorated with sprays of tobaa—red c o r d y l i n e — f o r b a t t l e ) . o r the bones of the dead i n men amem (women are also prohibited from handling a corpse once i t has been c a r r i e d from the v i l l a g e to the bush en route to the exposure platform). We can now attempt to summarize the i d e o l o g i c a l (and c l a s s i f i c a t o r y ) implications of r e s t r i c t i o n s concerning birds and marsupials on the basis of gender. With respect to b i r d s , the s i t u a t i o n i s f a i r l y straightforward. Birds of the colour red ( s i g n i f y i n g blood), birds of prey, and birds associated with violence (the dangerous cassowary, the sengaa linked to biit s o r c e r y — a man's a r t — a n d the biseng connected with adultery and murder) are a l l forbidden to women for reasons that seem ulti m a t e l y to turn on the contradictory r e l a t i o n of l i f e - g i v i n g to l i f e - t a k i n g . From t h i s point of view, then, women are the l i f e - g i v e r s , and men are the l i f e - t a k e r s . This p o l a r i z a t i o n of the sexes along t h i s axis as a matter of conventional p r o h i b i t i o n or d i s j u n c t i o n also has further i d e o l o g i c a l implications, namely, that were such regulations not to be observed, women might cease to be 288 l i f e - g i v e r s and could—though t h i s i s nowhere stated-—conceivably become l i f e -takers. Here i t might be h e l p f u l to r e c a l l that t h i s i s p r e c i s e l y what kundunang, whose husbands are wild dogs—and h u n t e r s — a r e ; they k i l l men on sight and cannibalize t h e i r own ch i l d r e n . This i s a world i n which men have no place. Such an understanding i s reinforced by a consideration of menstrual p r o h i b i t i o n s , which i n d i c a t e the dangers of women cum blood: the p r o d u c t i v i t y of the garden i s jeopardized both d i r e c t l y and by the i n i m i c a l forces of the bush ( r e c a l l i n g the ass o c i a t i o n of wild pigs with death), while men's pr o d u c t i v i t y as k i l l e r s i n the bush likewise su f f e r s and the v i l l a g e i t s e l f threatens to become an amorphous pool of sloppy goo. In t h i s s e r i e s of r e s t r i c t i o n s , then, we can see the mo b i l i z a t i o n of the symbolic resources of the world at large f o r the establishment and maintenance of a human order i n the face of potent and p o t e n t i a l l y chaotic and destructive p o s s i b i l i t i e s : here the tabus c l e a r l y serve to a r t i c u l a t e s o c i a l and cosmological orders and through d i s j u n c t i o n i n h i b i t the world's propensity towards what I c a l l entropy. The s i t u a t i o n i s more complicated when we return to the pr o h i b i t i o n s on marsupials. Whereas the r e s t r i c t i o n s concerning b i r d s e f f e c t a cl e a r and overwhelming c a t e g o r i c a l d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n of the sexes, the d i v i s i o n of species of marsupials i s l e s s one-sided and somewhat ambiguous by comparison. I f the s i t u a t i o n with birds i s ti d y , things get messy with the marsupials. Since the majority of the r e s t r i c t e d v a r i e t i e s of marsupials are those that are forbidden to men and reserved f o r women (and c h i l d r e n , i n general), l e t us begin with them. We may s t a r t with a z o o l o g i c a l observation, namely, that most of the marsupials (nuk) with which women are associated are not r e a l l y marsupials, but are pl a c e n t a l mammals, and as such they are more c l o s e l y akin to'humans and t h e i r domestic animals (pigs and dogs) than other forest animals (with the notable exception of wild p i g s ) , This accords with the s p a t i a l s i t u a t i o n of rats and other rodents, f o r they are often to be 289 found i n or around gardens or. even i n the'.village i t s e l f , In a sense, they may be seen as wild animals that l i v e c l o s e s t to home, Here we may note that such animals are viewed by men with d i s t a s t e , and they point out that they are the consumers of refuse. I t i s possible to understand t h i s i n two d i f f e r e n t ways: such animals tend to blur the boundaries between the world of man and the world beyond h i s co n t r o l , the bush; at. the same time, t h i s ambiguity can be read d i f f e r e n t l y to suggest that they are the le a s t a l i e n of the natural world. There i s a further hint here of an ass o c i a t i o n with p r o d u c t i v i t y , most evident i n the case of the inggat, which men fi n d appropriate for r i t u a l s involving the v i l l a g e s i t e i t s e l f when they emphasize the fact that i t i s p r o l i f i c and has numerous o f f s p r i n g within one nest. Here we begin to get a sense of some problematic underlying ambivalence, and t h i s may be a r e f l e c t i o n of male ambivalence towards women i n other contexts, since they are both a source (and perhaps the source) of pr o d u c t i v i t y (children, gardens) while at the same time being d i f f i c u l t to manage and c o n t r o l . The notion of unmanageability crops up again i n the case of okgeyam, which i s neither f i s h nor fowl, and perhaps t h i s explains the linkage of women with the awkwardness and clumsiness associated with uleseen. F i n a l l y there are associations with "bad smells" (tang mafak), weakness, and general d e b i l i t y , and i t seems that men are protecting themselves by shunning such associations. By contrast, the male marsupials par excellence are said to be large and good t a s t i n g , and are associated with p r o d u c t i v i t y ( p a r t i c u l a r l y the kuyaam). This i s the pro d u c t i v i t y of growth, however, and i s p a r t i c u l a r l y c l o s e l y t i e d to gardens, a quickening that must be managed: to eat kuyaam may speed up the growth of taro, but to eat too much kuyaam may carry things too f a r so that the crop rots i n the ground, j u s t as i t also threatens to cause men to age prematurely. Hence only very old and very young males may eat t h i s : the former have already matured to a ripe old age, and thus have nothing to lose by aging, while the 290 l a t t e r have a l l t h e i r growth ahead of them. Here we should r e c a l l the si z e and colouring of dabool•and kuyaam, remembering that to be large i s to be old (afaalik). In regard to marsupials i t seems that men are not so much safe-guarding women and t h e i r f e r t i l i t y (except perhaps i n the case of kutinim) as they are appropriating i t f o r themselves, while at the same time r i s k i n g aging and decay. I t i s perhaps for t h i s reason that the r e s t r i c t i o n s on eating marsupials are most stringent for male novices, who are i n the middle of the t r a n s i t i o n from childhood to adulthood and at the zenith of t h e i r growth. At the same time, women are aligned with those marsupials that are ambiguous and i n t r u s i v e i n man's world, and perhaps, impure (see Douglas 1966, 1975; Leach 1964; Tambiah 1969). Returning to the system as a whole, we may see that the e f f e c t i v e a s s o c i a t i o n with men and b i r d s — a n d the exclusion of women from such a co n n e c t i o n — c o r r e l a t e s with the f a c t that i t i s the men who are the exclusive hunters and warriors. The more mixed nature of p r o h i b i t i o n s concerning marsupials seems to r e f l e c t an engagement by both sexes i n processes of growth—they both garden and are both implicated i n the production of human beings—but t h i s engagement for men i s one that c a r r i e s c e r t a i n r i s k s of aging, d e b i l i t y , and decay (cf. the associations of the colour white). Given t h i s o v e r a l l scheme, the tabus serve to a l i g n these q u a l i t i e s with gender categories while at the same time p o l a r i z i n g them through d i s j u n c t i o n and segregation. They thus underwrite an order that has cosmological, s o c i a l , and p h y s i o l o g i c a l dimensions. U n t i l now I have concentrated on the tabus l i n k i n g and separating men, women, bi r d s , and marsupials as a c a t e g o r i c a l and i d e o l o g i c a l system. I have suggested that t h i s not only accomplishes a s o c i a l d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n of the sexes (akin to totemic systems of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n i n i t s l o g i c ) , but that 291 there i s an i m p l i c i t organization of processes of nurturing and k i l l i n g , l i f e -g iving and l i f e - t a k i n g embodied i n t h i s system. Here the chief p r i n c i p l e seems to be that nurturing and k i l l i n g stand i n an a n t i t h e t i c a l r e l a t i o n to one another, something which c e r t a i n l y echoes a d i v i s i o n of the- s o c i a l world at another l e v e l , the d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n of men of the Taro Side (iman mi-it) and the Arrow Side (un miit) i n r i t u a l , Before proceeding further, i t w i l l be h e l p f u l to see i f we can f i n d a d d i t i o n a l confirmation for t h i s . We may begin by broadening the analysis to include p r o h i b i t i o n s concerning the consumption of w i ld pigs, saaman. As we have already seen, wild pigs are i n a metaphorical sense enemies that prey upon gardens, the source of l i f e , Further, only f u l l y i n i t i a t e d men may eat wild pigs, and t h i s i s s p e c i f i c a l l y t i e d to t h e i r completion of the arrow r i t e (un at or un baat, and sometimes referred to as the wild pig i n i t i a t i o n , saaman ban) which was always accompanied by the hunting of wild p cigs and was i n the past a general preliminary to warfare. In a host of ways wild pigs s i g n i f y aggression, wildness, and death. In a sense they ave death, f o r besides being without sinik, they are the r e s u l t of k i l l i n g that which men have nurtured and possesses sinik—domestic pigs (kong). Should a woman eat a wild pig, the consequences are much the same as i f she had entered a garden during her menstrual period. The growing taro i s jeopardized: the taro i t s e l f s u f f e r s d i r e c t l y , and i s said to run away. But i n addition, the garden w i l l be invaded not only by wild pigs, but by those nuk most d i r e c t l y associated with women, r a t s . Here i t i s as though a whole chain of consequences ensue from the f a i l u r e to separate nurturing and k i l l i n g , with a r e s u l t i n g collapse inwards of the bush and f l i g h t outwards of the domestic: the wild animals come into the garden and the taro f l e e s into the bush. The chain begins with the slaying of a domestic p i g (fed by women and by men but k i l l e d by men) and i t s consumption, leading to the transformation of the pig's 292 sinik into a wild p i g ; the wild pig preys upon gardens. Nurturing to k i l l i n g , domestic to wild, followed By r e v e r s a l when the gardens no longer promote l i f e but are consumed by death. (This p a r a l l e l s the attacks on gardens— s p e c i f i c a l l y , on men's c r o p s — b y momoupk, which can be seen as r e t a l i a t i o n and a c o l l a p s i n g of.the n u r t u r i n g / k i l l i n g p o l a r i t y along the same l i n e s ) . When men k i l l wild pigs and consume them among themselves, i t brings the cycle to a close through a sort of double negation, i . e . , they destroy the destroyer. But for women to come into contact with wild pig would be to i n i t i a t e the whole process over again by bringing nurturing and powers of p r o d u c t i v i t y into contact with those of destruction and death, unleashing another series of s i m i l a r consequences. We can see a s i m i l a r l o g i c i n operation i n a d i f f e r e n t context. Chickens ( c a l l e d simply uun, 'bird') were introduced to Telefolmin by the Europeans i n the 1950s. This was meant to augment the amount of p r o t e i n i n the l o c a l d i e t , and i t would seem that i t would appeal to people. But chicken-raising has been a dramatic f a i l u r e i n Telefolmin. One of the chief d i f f i c u l t i e s seems to be that people do not r e a l l y look a f t e r t h e i r chickens very conscientiously and l e t them run free to forage rather than penning and feeding them. When people go o f f to gardens they cannot, of course, take t h e i r chickens along. A great many f a l l prey to v i l l a g e dogs, and a good number are also stolen-presumably by i r r e s p o n s i b l e boys and youths—and eaten i n the bush. As a r e s u l t , few people r e a l l y expend much energy on chicken-raising or expect i t to amount to much. But there i s an a d d i t i o n a l d i f f i c u l t y , and i t i s that were they to look a f t e r chickens i n the way Europeans advise, they would become engaged i n an i d e o l o g i c a l c o n t r a d i c t i o n , for chickens are b i r d s . Birds are wild things, and t h i s means that they may be k i l l e d r e l a t i v e l y o p p o r t u n i s t i c a l l y , as game. The idea of i n d i v i d u a l s r a i s i n g wild animals, nurturing them, and claiming r i g h t s over them i s a l i e n to T e l e f o l notions of how the world i s ordered. This i s most c l e a r l y manifested i n the r e f u s a l by a 293 number of men to eat chicken, though others say i t i s good tasty meat, Their r e f u s a l i s based on the i n s i s t e n c e that t h i s should be amem, tabu or forbidden. They argue on two re l a t e d grounds: (a) wild things are not man's or h i s to feed, and i t i s wrong to feed b i r d s ; (b) creatures that one does feed (as, for example, domestic p i g s — s e e below) cannot be eaten by those who feed them. Once again, nurturing and k i l l i n g are i n contradiction and ought to be kept d i s t i n c t and separate. The p r i n c i p l e i s here i l l u s t r a t e d i n sharp r e l i e f p r e c i s e l y because i t i s a novel a p p l i c a t i o n where there i s no standardized precedent. I have already mentioned.that women's menstrual blood i s i n i m i c a l to the growth of taro. In f a c t , a l l blood endangers taro, and should blood come into contact with a garden the crop w i l l f a i l because of a red rot c a l l e d 'blood' (isak). I learned of t h i s a c c i d e n t a l l y when I went with Yemis and some others when he was c l e a r i n g a new garden. A f t e r some sketching, surveying, and note-taking I wanted to become us e f u l since everyone else was b u s i l y working while I sat i d l e . Eventually I persuaded someone to lend me an axe so that I might help with s p l i t t i n g r a i l s f o r fencing. While doing so, I managed to cut my ankle with the axe and my companions had to render f i r s t a id and then c a r r i e d me to the mission c l i n i c . When I f i n a l l y returned to the v i l l a g e I sought out Bufalok to thank him for helping me—he had said the appropriate s p e l l s and bandaged my ankle while I lay bleeding on the ground, and h i s work was e f f e c t i v e and appreciated. When I saw him, he was r e l i e v e d to see that I was better. But as soon as that was established, he gave me a severe tongue-lashing for my big-headedness and pridefulness i n i n s i s t i n g on working with an axe--garden work was t h e i r business and w r i t i n g was my business, and I should have had enough sense to r e a l i z e t h i s without having to be t o l d a l l the time. (I w a s thenceforth prohibited from handling axes f o r the duration of my stay.) To make matters worse, he continued, I had spoiled Yemis' garden and a l l that work had gone for nothing. At the time I thought 294 t h i s was merely an a l l u s i o n to the di s r u p t i o n caused by my accident. But l a t e r , when Yemis' garden succumbed to isak9 I was the only one i n the v i l l a g e who was surprised. Blood and taro are incompatible, j u s t as the colour red and women stand i n an a n t i t h e t i c a l r e l a t i o n s h i p , and j u s t as Arrow and Taro are necessar i l y d i s t i n c t from one another: i n t h i s we begin to glimpse the shape of an o v e r a l l premise of order i n the T e l e f o l world. The fundamental p r i n c i p l e i s that nurturing and k i l l i n g are contradictory processes and that man must keep them apart i f society and l i f e i t s e l f are to be maintained. This provides one of the major means of f o r e s t a l l i n g entropy, and here we may see that what I have c a l l e d e n t r o p y — l o s s , d i s s i p a t i o n , d i s o r g a n i z a t i o n — i s the r e s u l t of f a i l i n g to properly manage t h i s c ontradiction. This i s perhaps cl e a r e s t i n a series of tabus which serve to protect taro growth. Thus, women may not enter gardens during t h e i r menses, nor may blood be shed i n a garden. Further, men should not enter g a r d e n s — e s p e c i a l l y young ones—immediately a f t e r they have k i l l e d game or seen blood, and f r e s h l y harvested taro cannot be cooked with meat unless a l l the blood i s gone. In the past, enemy ambushes sometimes caught people i n t h e i r gardens, and i f t h i s happened the gardens i n question had to be abandoned i f blood a c t u a l l y f e l l within them. When a person dies t h e i r corpse i s placed on an exposure platform i n a garden belonging to them; the taro i n t h i s garden i s burned and the garden i t s e l f must be abandoned, for t h i s i s where the blood and the f l u i d s of decomposition remain—to attempt to grow anything i n that plot would be f u t i l e u n t i l a great deal of time has passed, f o r the garden i s f i l l e d with death. The segregation of nurturing, and k i l l i n g underlies the l o g i c of tabu i n Telefolmin, and t h i s l o g i c i s bound intimately with notions of l i f e and death, the enterprises of gardening and hunting, r e l a t i o n s between the sexes, and the exhaustive d i v i s i o n of labour i n men's r i t u a l . Here we can see that such a mutually exclusive d i v i s i o n among the men—that between Taro and Arrow— 295 i s i n a c e r t a i n sense already entailed by t h i s l o g i c , f or men are engaged i n both gardening and hunting. Men say that i f one spends a l l of h i s time i n garden work with hi s wife and c h i l d r e n , then his skin w i l l become heavy, he w i l l t i r e e a s i l y along the track, and he w i l l become sluggish and lack v i t a l i t y . While women are completely engaged i n gardening, c h i l d rearing, and pig rearing, men's a c t i v i t i e s must embrace both gardening and hunting. There are a number of tabus which serve to keep these a c t i v i t i e s separate i n time and space, but i n the world of r i t u a l men are f i r m l y a l l o c a t e d to one realm or another and the r i t e s themselves are likewise completely insulated from one another. Here we see, then, how t h i s p r i n c i p l e of segregation y i e l d s a d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n rooted i n cosmological notions that have organizational consequences. I m p l i c i t i n such d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n i s the notion of exchange and r e c i p r o c a l dependency, and we f i n d t h i s manifested d i r e c t l y i n some of the regulations concerning the consumption of food. We have seen already how the consumption of wild game i s governed by food tabus, but l i t t l e has yet been said of domestic pigs (hong). Given the a n t i t h e t i c a l r e l a t i o n between nurturing and k i l l i n g , i t i s c l e a r that domestic pigs pose a problem, since men look a f t e r them and feed them but also k i l l them and eat them. „!It i s perhaps i n t h i s sense that there i s a formal resemblance between pig rearing and sorcery, since i n both' the two p r o c e s s e s — which ultimately r e l a t e to the idea of k i l l i n g one of one's own—are c l o s e l y connected. I have already shown that Telefolmin regard t h e i r domestic pigs as metaphorical c h i l d r e n , and t h i s i s true i n a deeply f e l t and n o n - t r i v i a l sense. Men explain t h e i r reluctance to k i l l pigs not only i n terms of what we would understand as a desire to r e t a i n something of one's own: they also say, quite simply, that they f e e l sorry for t h e i r pigs. This r e l a t i o n to t h e i r pigs i s not simply the r e s u l t of close a s s o c i a t i o n or p r o x i m i t y — i n s t e a d , i t i s rooted i n commensality, for men and t h e i r pigs eat the same food from the same gardens. As i s the case elsewhere i n New Guinea, commensal r e l a t i o n s are very 296 strongly marked, and those who share food-—especially over a period of time-— are not only bound to each other by what we would understand as r e c i p r o c i t y but are also linked by shared substance. The food they have eaten together i s a bond rooted i n t h e i r very f l e s h , and t h i s can form a kinship between p e o p l e — or people and t h e i r pigs-—as r e a l as that based on conception (see, e.g., Mead 1963, 1970; Salisbury 1964, 1965; S c h i e f f e l i n 1976; Strathern 1973, 1977; Wagner 1967; Rubel and Rosman 1978). Thus we can understand.that people are reluctant to k i l l or eat t h e i r pigs as a matter of deep sentiment. There i s something more than t h i s , however: i t i s not simply disturbing to eat pigs one has f e d — i t i s forbidden (amem). To consume f l e s h that one has nurtured and with which one's own f l e s h shares substance i s tantamount to i n c e s t . We have already seen one aspect of t h i s problem i n the avoidance of chickens by a number of men. In the case of domestic pigs the problem i s not a matter of wild food being treated as though i t were a domestic food, but rather that to eat one's pig i s to eat one's " c h i l d " . To do so i s thought to r e s u l t i n s t a n t l y and unavoidably i n death, and the consequences go beyond t h i s , for those who have eaten t h e i r own pigs w i l l be consumed by B i s i i l k i , the huge dog, instead of going to Bagelam. This p r o h i b i t i o n i s c a l l e d dubung, Dubung i s a r u l e that s p e c i f i e s that people may not eat t h e i r own p i g s — p i g s they feed—and further demands that people not eat the pigs of t h e i r c h i l d r e n , i . e . , any cognates of a junior generation. This i s a sort of t r a n s i t i v e feature, and people explain t h i s by saying that since one has fed one's c h i l d r e n (man), then to eat pigs that they have fed would be the same as i f one had fed them oneself. In add i t i o n to these r e s t r i c t i o n s , i t i s also forbidden to eat the o f f s p r i n g of any such pig within the span of three generations (reckoned m a t r i l i n e a l l y ) , since such pigs w i l l have suckled and been nurtured by those one has nurtured oneself. 29 7 Here nurturing and k i l l i n g are then separated by the dubung r u l e — i n a general sense pigs are nurtured and then k i l l e d and eaten by men, but they can never be eaten by those who have, one way or another, nurtured them. Instead, others eat them, Here too we can see that t h i s separation of engagement i n processes of nurturing and k i l l i n g i s accomplished by d i f f e r e n t i a t i n g between one's own pigs and those of others, those which one may not eat.and .those which one may eat, and t h i s i s reminiscent of what the Arapesh have to say about s i m i l a r matters (Mead 1970:283): Other people's women Other people's pigs Other people's yams that they have p i l e d up You can eat. Your own women Your own pigs Your own yams that you have p i l e d up You may not eat. Here we can see that the dubung r u l e i s analogous to the incest tabu i n two d i f f e r e n t ways: i t forbids one to consume that which one has produced, or to k i l l xtfhat one has nurtured, and i t requires one to engage i n exchange and r e c i p r o c a l r e l a t i o n s with others, Telefolmin understand t h i s i m p l i c a t i o n of the dubung r u l e very w e l l , and say that because of dubung pigs are shared widely. Thus i t i s that men also form r e c i p r o c a l agistment partnerships, each looking a f t e r the other's pigs, and thus i t i s that the pork of such pigs i s given to others who, i n due time, are expected to reciprocate. So far I have concentrated on an analysis of food r e s t r i c t i o n s p r i m a r i l y as they r e l a t e to categories of persons and q u a l i t i e s associated with them, moving to a consideration of the i d e o l o g i c a l basis f or such d i s c r i m i n -ations i n terms of a l o g i c of c o m p a t i b i l i t i e s and i n c o m p a t i b i l i t i e s . Much of t h i s i n turn may be resolved with reference to the contradictory nature of nurturing a n d ^ k i l l i n g i n T e l e f o l thought, as i l l u s t r a t e d not only i n p r o h i b i t i o n s a f f e c t i n g the consumption of wild game but also those connected 298 with gardening and the pro t e c t i o n of the taro crop. F i n a l l y , the problematic nature of domestic p i g rearing resides i n the conjunction of processes of nurturing and k i l l i n g within the same context, and t h i s problem i s resolved by the dubung tabu, whose underlying l o g i c bridges that of the other tabus and i t s s o c i o l o g i c a l analogue, the incest tabu. We can thus see how a series of fundamental assumptions about the nature- of l i f e - g i v i n g and l i f e - t a k i n g i n the world a r t i c u l a t e with the necessity f o r each person to p a r t i c i p a t e i n giving and taking of a more immediately f a m i l i a r kind, r e c i p r o c i t y . I t i s at th i s l e v e l that we can begin to apprehend something of the nature of how order i n the T e l e f o l world—both cosmologically- and s o c i o l o g i c a l l y — i s constructed. It i s now appropriate to turn to a consideration of how a l l these regulations concerning the consumption of food, whose character i s p r i m a r i l y negative ( i . e . , they are tabus), e n t a i l i n t h e i r p o s i t i v e aspect a serie s of rules of exchange and of commensality, We may begin with a look again at wild game and i t s d i s t r i b u t i o n . One of the f i r s t things to note i s that .men tend to t a l k as though they get to eat a l l of the good foods, while the l e s s esteemed game i s that reserved f o r women and th e i r c h i l d r e n . Thus, men may eat such d e l i c a c i e s as wild pigs, cassowaries, pigeons, eels, and the large dabool and kuyaam marsupials; women have as t h e i r exclusive foods such things as r a t s , frogs, and the cave-dwelling utan python, as w e l l as foods generally characterized as having a bad smell. Further, the men point out that t h e i r foods are large and may (must) be shared among several, while the women's foods are r e l a t i v e l y small and hardly worth sharing, even i f they were permitted to a l l to eat. Here we f i n d an echo of the opposition between men's s o c i a l i t y and the women's preoccupation with narrow domestic i n t e r e s t s , and t h i s i s further reinforced by the notion that men's foods are v i l l a g e foods and should not be eaten i n the bush ( t h i s applies p a r t i c u l a r l y strongly i n the case of wild pigs and eels, which ought 299 properly speaking to be eaten i n the yolcgn), In a sense then we can see how many of the men's foods are " s o c i a l i z e d " , i,.e., they cannot be.consumed within the confines of a sing l e household, but must instead by shared out between men of d i f f e r e n t households within the v i l l a g e . Thus i t appears that men are both p r i v i l e g e d and obliged by the system: they monopolize the choice game, which they must share among each other i n the v i l l a g e to the exclusion of women and chil d r e n . Here, however, we should not be too hasty i n accepting t h e i r view of the s i t u a t i o n , I have already discussed the ambivalences and tensions that men face with regard to food sharing, e s p e c i a l l y when i n the v i l l a g e . In the v i l l a g e men are enjoined to s o c i a l i z e with one another, either i n the yolam or i n the v i s i t s other men pay to them i n t h e i r homes. When others come to v i s i t — a n d here i t should be r e c a l l e d that evening v i s i t o r s , are always men, for women remain i n t h e i r houses with t h e i r c h i l d r e n and p i g s — h o s p i t a l i t y i s prescribed, and food i s offered as a matter of course. To deny a guest food that i s c l e a r l y at hand i s extremely poor etiquette and leads i n e v i t a b l y to bad f e e l i n g s . This i s exacerbated i f the v i s i t o r i s from another v i l l a g e , for such resentment towards a host could be translated into sorcery. I t i s not unusual for t h i s s i t u a t i o n to cause tension, and wives—who are less bound by conventions of politeness than m e n — w i l l complain i f h o s p i t a l i t y to v i s i t o r s seems to be eating into t h e i r children's provisions. Here, once again, the demands of male s o c i a l i t y and household i n t e r e s t s are at odds. Against t h i s background the p r o h i b i t i o n of c e r t a i n foods to men takes on another aspect. Many of the foods that are reserved for women .(and children) are items that women themselves may gather, e s p e c i a l l y r a t s and frogs. Frog c o l l e c t i n g i s an ex c l u s i v e l y feminine pursuit, and of the half dozen or so v a r i e t i e s regarded as edible about half are forbidden to men. Various such foods are held i n low esteem by men, and they are small rather than large creatures. But both r a t s and frogs are found r e l a t i v e l y r o u t i n e l y by women, and they share these with t h e i r c h i l d r e n and are i n fa c t l i k e l y to 300 be the most regular source of animal p r o t e i n on the menu. The.fact that many of these cannot be eaten by men serves to insul a t e them from the demands of h o s p i t a l i t y , f o r though one may not refuse food to a v i s i t o r , one i s al s o forbidden to o f f e r guests food which i s prohibited to them. The rules concerning r e s t r i c t i o n s on the e d i b i l i t y of various kinds of game then serve to mediate the co n t r a d i c t i o n between male s o c i a l i t y and domesticity by p a r t i t i o n i n g the d i f f e r e n t kinds of game and a l l o c a t i n g r o u t i n e l y a v a i l a b l e and r e l a t i v e l y small items to women and the c h i l d r e n whom they feed while reserving the large and r e l a t i v e l y spectacular kinds of game for men who share such foods with each other ( c f . S c h i e f f e l i n 1976:68f). Thus we can see that the men's ass e r t i o n that they get to eat good food while the women eat poor food tends to r e f l e c t the i d e o l o g i c a l weighting of men's r e l a t i o n s with one another while at the same time masking the f a c t that i t i s the women and the ch i l d r e n who i n f a c t enjoy the most regular additions of meat to t h e i r d i e t . When we turn our att e n t i o n to the dubung r u l e we f i n d a curious consistency with t h i s pattern. As already explained, i t i s forbidden not only to eat one's own pig (or a pig that one has fed), i t i s also tabu to eat the f l e s h of a p i g owned or tended by anyone addressed as man, ' c h i l d ' . This has several i n t e r e s t i n g e f f e c t s on the pattern of food d i s t r i b u t i o n and consumption. One of these, the sharing of pork between d i f f e r e n t households i n the v i l l a g e , i s f a i r l y clear-cut and obvious, and here we should r e c a l l that both wild and domestic pigs should be eaten i n the v i l l a g e l e s t usong bring i l l n e s s . This also means that when a man's pig i s k i l l e d and d i s t r i b u t e d he (and h i s wife) and a l l those who c a l l him man axe perforce excluded' from the d i s t r i b u t i o n . I d e a l l y , what should happen i s that at l e a s t one other p i g — one not prohibited, to h i m — w i l l be k i l l e d at the same time so that a l l may eat. This does not always happen, f or a v a r i e t y of reasons, but i n any event what-even he gives ought to be reciprocated, i f not i n the present, then i n the future. But t h i s i s not always an easy matter, f o r an entailment of the dubung r u l e i s that a man may receive pork only from seniors or contemporaries, not from j u n i o r s , f o r a l l cognates (and i n p r a c t i c e , t h i s means a l l v i l l a g e r s ) of junior generations are c a l l e d man. This means that as a man grows older the range of domestic pigs that he may eat shrinks as the ranks of his elders and contemporaries dwindle and the number of 'children' increases. This r e s u l t s i n a s i t u a t i o n i n which older men are progressively phased out of d i s t r i b u t i o n s of domestic pork. In many cases there may be only a handful of men who may exchange pork with each other, and. even here i t i s d i f f i c u l t , for they must be ce r t a i n that the pigs i n question are not c l o s e l y related to pigs that they (or a 'child') have fed. In p r a c t i c e i t i s thus not unusual to see a c l u s t e r of older men s i t t i n g o f f to one side by themselves when pork i s d i s t r i b u t e d , and though they may have an i n t e r e s t i n the d e t a i l s of the d i s t r i b u t i o n , they themselves must simply watch from the s i d e l i n e s , f o r they have reached the stage where a l l domestic pork has been v i r t u a l l y excluded from t h e i r d i e t . The only meat that they may eat i s game from the f o r e s t , and i t i s i n consideration of t h i s that some young men w i l l make a s p e c i a l e f f o r t to f i n d game so that t h e i r uncles and fathers may eat too when a pig i s k i l l e d . In theory, t h i s s i t u a t i o n applies to a l l men and women equally, and the dubung rule i s not phrased i n terms of gender: all pigs that one feeds, and a l l pigs fed by one's 'children' are prohibited. But i n f a c t , most women can look forward to a share of pork at any major d i s t r i b u t i o n . This i s so because of a p e c u l i a r i t y of T e l e f o l kinship terminology. The term for ' c h i l d ' , man, r e f e r s to a l l cognates of ju n i o r generations, but i f a woman i s the speaker there i s an exception to t h i s rule'. The term f o r 'father's s i s t e r ' and for 'elder s i s t e r ' i n T e l e f o l i s baaben, and the appropriate r e c i p r o c a l terms are neeng (yZ, BD) and niing (yB, BS), In usage, a woman not only r e f e r s to her own 'true' younger s i b l i n g s by these terms, but also uses them with reference to the c h i l d r e n of any male cognate of the same generation (e.g., MBSC, FZSC, MZSC, FBSC). Thus i t i s that a woman f a l l i n g into the category 302 baaben i s not only a permissible r e c i p i e n t of a share of a man's pig, but t h i s i s i n fa c t said to be her due. So while old men become excluded from pork d i s t r i b u t i o n s , women of even very advanced years may and do receive shares when domestic pigs are k i l l e d . Although women too must observe the dubung r u l e , i t s consequences for them are le s s severe simply because the category man i s for them defined much less broadly than i t i s for men. Thus i t i s that the apparent imbalance i n permitted foods for old men and old women, such that the former may eat both wild and domestic pork while the l a t t e r may only eat domestic pork, i s l e s s r e a l than i t f i r s t seems. Old men are i n e f f e c t mechanically excluded from eating domestic pork while women may continue to do so, and the advantage of being able to eat wild pork i s thus not simply a p r i v i l e g e but perhaps also a compensation. It now seems possible to come to a summary of the s i g n i f i c a n c e of food tabus i n T e l e f o l society. These tabus form a system of rules governing not only the consumption of various categories of foods by c e r t a i n categories of persons, but by implication are also rules of commensality i n so far as they d i c t a t e which kinds of food may be shared between which kinds of people. In t h i s respect they are perhaps the c l e a r e s t and most highly d i f f e r e n t i a t e d r u l es i n the s o c i a l structure, which i s otherwise characterized by an o v e r a l l vagueness and diffuseness. Here we must remember that Telefolmin, l i k e other Melanesians, place great store i n r e l a t i o n s of giving and r e c e i v i n g , and r e c i p r o c i t i e s concerning food are among those most deeply f e l t and most s o c i a l l y meaningful. From t h i s point of view, then, the tabus are a system of organizing such r e l a t i o n s , c h i e f l y along the axes of sex and age. With a few e x c e p t i o n s — e s p e c i a l l y with regard to wild pigs, for which formal hunts may be organized—men i n Telefolmin generally do not go out to hunt for any s p e c i f i c item of game. They simply take what they can f i n d . But when game i s bagged i t s placement within the scheme of tabus already s p e c i f i e s to whom 303 i t may be given and with whom one may share i t . If a kuyaam i s found, i t can only be eaten by senior men, and i f the hunter's father or elder brother(s) are s t i l l l i v i n g he himself may not partake of i t . If instead an uleseen i s bagged, i t must be turned over to a woman to eat, and t h i s meat may not be eaten by men who come to v i s i t , If a wild pig i s k i l l e d , i t must be eaten i n the v i l l a g e and shared among the senior men i n the yolam. And so on. I have already argued that t h i s scheme goes some way to resolve the c o n f l i c t between sociable h o s p i t a l i t y and household consumption by a l l o c a t i n g s p e c i f i c foods d i s t i n c t l y to one range of s o c i a l categories or another. To the extent that t h i s i s true, decisions concerning food and i t s d i s t r i b u t i o n may be phrased i n terms of o b l i g a t i o n and the protection of p o t e n t i a l r e c i p i e n t s from putative dangers. I have likewise shown how the system of tabus manifestly a r t i c u l a t e s c a t e g o r i c a l connections between the s o c i a l and natural worlds i n i d e o l o g i c a l l y meaningful ways. But i n a broader sense the structure of the system as a whole can teach us something more fundamental about T e l e f o l culture and.its preoccupation with the management of the problems posed by entropy, and t h i s forms the topic of the next and f i n a l section of t h i s chapter. v i i . Managing Order and Entropy I began t h i s chapter with the suggestion that while the very notion of order i s e s s e n t i a l to anthropology and any anthropological account of another society, we must take care to look at how notions of order are conceived and manifested i n the s o c i e t i e s we study. This i s p a r t i c u l a r l y important i n New Guinea ethnography since so much of our treatment of the s o c i a l order (or s o c i a l structure, or organization) has proved to be problematic (see, e,g., Cook 1966; Kaberry 1967; Langness 1964; Pouwer 1960, 1966; Watson 1965, 1970). This d i f f i c u l t y i s traceable i n part to the fact 304 that when the indigenous ideologies of New Guinea s o c i e t i e s are considered, neither the natural world nor the world of s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s seem to manifest a stable and a r t i c u l a t e coherence—order, as Errington (1974) has said f or the Karavarans, cannot be assumed. In the T e l e f o l case i t seems c l e a r that the s o c i a l order i s set i n the wider context of a world that i s at best i n d i f f e r e n t and at worst h o s t i l e to man and h i s projects. In Telefolmin human society i s most concretely represented i n the v i l l a g e , and the v i l l a g e i s man's cl e a r space ( l i t e r a l l y , 'the clearing') within the surrounding bush. The v i l l a g e c l e a r i n g i s an i s l a n d of l i g h t and s e c u r i t y within a sea of forest that holds shadowy but r e a l dangers, and the haven of the v i l l a g e i s only maintained at the cost of human e f f o r t . Further, while the bush i s a priori and taken as given, human society i s i t s e l f a contingent construction. Here the cosmos at large i s le s s a r e f l e c t i o n of the human order (or vice-versa) than an encompassing and enveloping presence against which human order i s defined and sustained. The fundamental assumption Telefolmin hold about man's place i n the cosmos i s that he i s subject to entropy, biniman, the d r i f t towards nothingness and the i n e v i t a b l e and progressive degeneration of order into chaos—the Telefolmin and the order established by Afek are fated to pass f i n a l l y and irrevocably out of existence. Men and a l l t h e i r works w i l l pass and only the bush w i l l remain. This conception of the world i s marked by a gradient of progressive decline and decay i n both s p a t i a l and temporal dimensions. Along a s p a t i a l axis man's con t r o l and the hegemony of the c u l t u r a l order degenerate the further one moves away from the stable centre afforded by the v i l l a g e . I t i s here that the conceptual opposition of v i l l a g e and bush comes to the fore; the former holds f r i e n d s , neighbours, and k i n ; the l a t t e r i s the domain of biit sorcerers, enemies, wild pigs and other garden predators, and f i n a l l y the home of various s p i r i t beings. As one moves 305 further away the world becomes more asit—wild, strange, a l i e n , and antagonistic. To leave the v i l l a g e behind i s to remove oneself from the proper order of things, u n t i l one comes to the peripheries of the T e l e f o l universe i n the land of the kundunang, the amazons who eat men and t h e i r own sons and mate with wild dogs. This i s the a n t i t h e s i s of human society, where men have no place and where they dare not go. Movement away from the centre also represents a t t r i t i o n or l o s s : the f l i g h t of taro that betokens a poor harvest; the elopement of women who abandon t h e i r f a m i l i e s ; the escape of pigs who become f e r a l and r a i d the gardens of' t h e i r erstwhile parents; the departure of the dead whose legacy to the l i v i n g i s sorrow and emptiness. D i s s i p a t i o n and abandonment and the negation of a l l that men work for l i e s on the horizon. Time too has i t s place i n the d i a l e c t i c of order and entropy. Movement through time i s accompanied by a s i m i l a r degeneration marked by the decline i n the s i z e and numbers of men and pigs, a retardation of growth processes, and an increasing rate of d e t e r i o r a t i o n and decay as the world runs down. The things of the past were large; the future represents an unavoidable dwindling as the world i s emptied. This i s a l o g i c i n which there i s no gain or accumulation but only an outward flow, d i s s i p a t i o n , and l o s s — b i n i m a n . Though men may work to f o r e s t a l l t h i s , they cannot stem or prevent i t : i f a man ages as the r e s u l t of procreating c h i l d r e n , he must nonetheless do so, for he w i l l i n any event die; i f the T e l e f o l cosmos comes nearer the end with each rebu i l d i n g of the mother house (amogeen) at T e l e f o l i p , men must nonetheless r e b u i l d i t or face a nearer doom. The problem of entropy i s the chief preoccupation of T e l e f o l cosmological thought, grounded i n the assumption that ( i n the Greek sense) chaos encompasses cosmos, In the end a l l w i l l become nothing, and i t i s t h i s perspective which, informs the T e l e f o l address to questions of the nature of order. Given t h i s context, order i s not simply an aesthetic or speculative matter, but a concern of tangible and immediate importance. In the preceding 306 sections of t h i s chapter I examined d i f f e r e n t aspects of the order of the T e l e f o l world, and w i l l now b r i e f l y review them from the standpoint of the i n t e r p l a y of order with entropy. If we consider the relevance of tenum miit to the ordering of T e l e f o l society we come to two basic conclusions: o r g a n i z a t i o n a l l y the various tenum miit categories are i r r e l e v a n t and are (because of t h e i r inherently ambiguous nature) incapable of providing the s t r u c t u r a l basis of group formation; at the same time, the ensemble of tenum miit a t t r i b u t e s (as embodied i n narratives) serves to construct a remarkably coherent image of the nature of T e l e f o l society as a whole. In other words, t h e i r chief s i g n i f i c a n c e i s as i d e o l o g i c a l representations rather than as organizational u n i t s . Having said t h i s , we can go on to suggest that tenum miit are s t i l l consequential insofar as they o f f e r an assertion of the possible bases of order. The key elements i n t h i s a s s e r tion are.that Telefolmin are both diverse and unitary i n t h e i r o r i g i n s , and that Telefolmin are Telefolmin by v i r t u e of t h e i r a s s o c i a t i o n with Afek and the a n c e s t r a l v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p ; that the ancestors of the Atemkayaakmin and Kubrenmin became Tel e f o l m i n — a n d f u l l y human—through accretion and "domestication" at T e l e f o l i p ; and that order i s accomplished through a comprehensive s t r u c t u r i n g ofccomplementarities i n r i t u a l . At the same time, these complementarities are themselves ordered i n terms of a l i m i t e d number of axiomatic discriminations, the most comprehensive of which i s the p a r t i t i o n of r i t u a l into two d i s t i n c t spheres: the l i f e - g i v i n g and nurturing Taro side (iman miit) and the Arrow side (un miit) associated with l i f e - t a k i n g and the shedding of blood. Here we f i n d the germ of the T e l e f o l formulation of order i n terms of the d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n and p o l a r i z a t i o n of a n t i t h e t i c a l acts. Tenum miit o f f e r a glimpse of the i d e o l o g i c a l p r i n c i p l e s of order i n Telefolmin: to locate the a c t u a l i t i e s of the s o c i a l order we must turn to the v i l l a g e . Here society ceases to be an a b s t r a c t i o n and takes a concrete form, and i t i s also here that we can begin to see entropy as a p r a c t i c a l concern. 307 While the v i l l a g e i s the most enduring and c l e a r l y defined e n t i t y of T e l e f o l society (apotheosized i n T e l e f o l i p ) , i t nonetheless leads a precarious sort of shadow existence. Autonomous households spend much, of t h e i r time dispersed i n is o l a t e d bush gardens, and the v i l l a g e i s faced with the organizational puzzle of counterbalancing dispersion (an organizational manifestation of entropy) with aggregation, Lacking the machinery of c e n t r a l authority, leadership, or i n s t i t u t i o n a l methods of reso l v i n g d i f f i c u l t i e s between v i l l a g e r s , disputes are masked and avoided rather than resolved and trouble between v i l l a g e r s leads to fragmentation and d i s p e r s a l , i n t e n s i f y i n g the already strong c e n t r i f u g a l tendencies of T e l e f o l society. This i s l a r g e l y the consequence of the i d e o l o g i c a l d e n i a l of s t r i f e i n v i l l a g e l i f e , and the cost of maintaining the facade of s o l i d a r i t y i s the banishment of i t s c o n t r a d i c t i o n to the bush through the separation of antagonists. To some extent v i l l a g e s o l i d a r i t y i s r e a l i z e d i n food sharing and h o s p i t a l i t y within the v i l l a g e . Such sharing i s v i r t u a l l y prescribed, but t h i s occasions a c o n f l i c t between personal needs and desires and s o c i a l l y required generosity, a c o n f l i c t which i s often managed through concealed private consumption, often i n the bush. Once again c o n f l i c t — h e r e often at the l e v e l of c o l l e c t i v e versus household i n t e r e s t s — i s masked by separation and avoidance. To the extent that such problems are confronted d i r e c t l y by T e l e f o l society, i t i s l a r g e l y i n terms of an i d e o l o g i c a l i d e n t i f i c a t i o n between women and narrow household i n t e r e s t s , on the one hand, and between men and the broader i n t e r e s t s of community, on the other hand. Thus these organizational problems are recast as sexual opposition: men of d i f f e r e n t households are .joined together by separating them from t h e i r wives, and t h i s f inds i t s c l e a r e s t expression i n the village-wide community of male i n i t i a t e s i n the yolam. The yolam i s the sine qua non of v i l l a g e d e f i n i t i o n i n Telefolmin. It i s the home of the usong who watch over the v i l l a g e and i s the 308 organizational focus of r i t e s underwriting garden prosperity and success i n hunting (and, i n the past, warfare). I t i s through, entry into the yolam through a serie s of i n i t i a t i o n s that boys become men i n Telefolmin, and p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the a f f a i r s of the yolam defines manhood i n much the same way that the yolam's presence defines a v i l l a g e , I t i s t h i s sense i n which the yolam i s the indispen s i b l e anchoring point of T e l e f o l society. In most Melanesian s o c i e t i e s exchange and r e c i p r o c i t y provide one of the most pervasive bases of s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s , and t h i s i s true of T e l e f o l society as we l l . The exchange or sharing of food i s one such aspect of T e l e f o l l i f e , but the s o c i a l s i g n i f i c a n c e of r e c i p r o c i t y i s even more c l e a r l y pronounced i n T e l e f o l marriage arrangements. Marriage i n Telefolmin i s f i r s t and foremost conceived i n terms of the exchange of women, and the s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s flowing from marriage are r e l a t i o n s rooted i n r e c i p r o c i t y . One of the f i r s t p r i o r i t i e s i n T e l e f o l marriage arrangements i s reclamation of the loss e n t a i l e d i n the marriage of one of one's own women, and i t i s i n t h i s l i g h t that the p r a c t i c e of endogamy and the preference for s i s t e r exchange are to be understood as attempts to come to grips with entropy. To the extent that v i l l a g e s are able to pursue endogamous p o l i c i e s — w h i c h i s to say, that they are able to seal off marriage exchanges and contain them within the sphere of v i l l a g e r e l a t i o n s — t h e y manage to f o r e s t a l l the loss of women to outsiders. This i s one of the ways i n which the i n t e g r i t y and success of v i l l a g e s i s judged i n T e l e f o l eyes, conceptualized i n terms of v i l l a g e strength and growth. The organizational consequence i n a densely r e t i c u l a t i n g network of cognatic and a f f i n a l r e l a t i o n s within the v i l l a g e and a correspondingly sharp d i s c o n t i n u i t y between v i l l a g e s . From the point of view of p a r t i c u l a r men within the society, endogamy confers the added advantage of some sec u r i t y of the expectations of return and r e c i p r o c a t i o n of women. That such expectations are not always r e a l i z e d i s a measure of the ambiguities inherent i n a co g n a t i c a l l y based system of k i n reckoning and, both i n ideology 309 and often i n f a c t , of the w i l l f u l ways of women. In these terms we may then understand much of the actual organization of T e l e f o l society as an attempt to shore up the v i l l a g e as an e n t i t y through i n v o l u t i o n , a'sealing—off of the possible routes of leakage or a t t r i t i o n to the outside: an attempt to manage entropy by shoring up the self-contained discreteness of the v i l l a g e . The theme of holding on to one's own against the threat of l o s s , a generalized concern to maintain the centre against the outside, i s one of the l e i t m o t i f s of T e l e f o l culture. While much of t h i s i s evident i n the p r a c t i c a l a f f a i r s of maintaining s o c i a l arrangements, t h i s concern i s perhaps most c l e a r l y apparent i n T e l e f o l ideas concerning m o r t a l i t y and man's fa t e . The loss that i s the most wrenching and the most f i n a l i s that of death. Most of those who die are irrevocably severed from the l i v i n g : they become bagel and depart for Bagelam, where they remain detached and apart from the l i v i n g . Those who die v i o l e n t l y become the garden-raiding momoyok, preying upon the source of l i f e , j u s t as the domestic pigs (which must be slaughtered i n human int e r e s t s ) become wild pigs and make war on man's work. The r e s u l t of death i s e ither estrangement or antagonism. This i s the i n e v i t a b i l i t y of entropy i n i t s perhaps most dramatic form. Against t h i s , men have one resource: the usong. Usong are the dead whom men r e t r i e v e and bring back within the c i r c l e of the l i v i n g , and usong are men's a l l i e s i n the struggle against entropy. As renowned gardeners or hunters who succumb only to the death of old age, usong are those who succeeded against entropy i n l i f e . The r e l a t i o n between men and usong i s one of mutual dependence, but l i k e a l l other r e l a t i o n s i n T e l e f o l society, t h i s i s a r e l a t i o n of r e c i p r o c i t y contingent upon the performance of both p a r t i e s . So i t i s that men only hold on to (waafunamln) usong who have been r e l i a b l e , and usong only a s s i s t those who have looked a f t e r them w e l l : f a i l u r e on either side r e s u l t s i n termination of the r e l a t i o n s h i p . In the end, the usong residing, i n .the yolam provide the. necessary f o c a l point for security and . 310 s t a b i l i t y i n the T e l e f o l world, but t h i s f a l l s f a r short of a permanent v i c t o r y over entropy and i s instead no better than a holding a c t i o n requiring continual e f f o r t on the part of a l l concerned. Though the yolam implies a d e f i n i t e s t a b i l i t y and continuity i n the T e l e f o l s o c i a l order, the only f i n a l i t y i s on the side of entropy. T e l e f o l cosmological ideas place men's society i n a p o t e n t i a l l y precarious and contingent r e l a t i o n to the world at large. While i t i s possible to regulate t h i s r e l a t i o n to some extent by i n s u l a t i n g the world of the v i l l a g e from that of the bush, i t i s c l e a r that t h i s cannot be done i n any sort of d e f i n i t i v e way for a people who p r a c t i c e hunting i n addition to gardening. What we do f i n d i n Telefolmin, however, i s that there i s an extensive elaboration of food tabus, e s p e c i a l l y i n regard to the consumption of game animals. In a society generally devoid of c o d i f i e d r u les for behaviour, the tabus occupy a s i g n i f i c a n t place i n the regulation of conduct by specifying what must not be done. They thus structure men's r e l a t i o n s at what i s perhaps the most intimate point of contact with the natural world while at the same time ordering r e l a t i o n s between s o c i a l categories based on sex, age, and r i t u a l status. These tabus erect boundaries p a r t i t i o n i n g the population and al i g n i n g them with categories of natural species. At the s o c i o l o g i c a l l e v e l the food tabus specify r e s t r i c t i o n s (and i m p l i c i t p r e s c r i p t i o n s ) and commensality and the sharing or d i s t r i b u t i o n of food. At the cosmological l e v e l they serve to p o l a r i z e and segregate a n t i t h e t i c a l (and hence entropy-promoting) q u a l i t i e s and processes, and i n so doing aim at maintaining the i n t e g r i t y of man's world by sealing o f f realms of p r o d u c t i v i t y from realms of destruction. If we consider the tabus i n more d e t a i l some of the basic p r i n c i p l e s of ordering may be apprehended. Women are s t r i c t l y separated from creatures associated with the colour red and bloodshed (red b i r d s , b i r d s of prey), while men are segregated from animals with a t t r i b u t e s of awkwardness, slowness, 311 weakness, and general d e b i l i t y . Thus we may say that while men are i n some sense associated with v i t a l i t y , women are c l o s e l y t i e d to l i f e - o r i e n t e d processes and fecundity, The v i t a l i t y of the men seems to be p r i m a r i l y the v i t a l i t y of the hunter and w a r r i o r — t h e k i l l e r - — a n d t h i s i s a n t i t h e t i c a l to the powers of women, and must be kept separate from them. F a i l u r e to do so can r e s u l t i n the los s of these p o s i t i v e powers and the destruction of taro, that which men are most anxious to nurture. • . In the system of food tabus entropy i s managed by the separation of contradictory elements and processes, and r e f l e c t s the c e n t r a l importance of the d i s t i n c t i o n between nurturing and k i l l i n g . This i s r e f l e c t e d i n a host of r e s t r i c t i o n s meant to prevent contact between taro and blood. Reflexes of t h i s underlying p r i n c i p l e pervade usages pertaining to r e l a t i o n s between the sexes, the r i t u a l d i v i s i o n into Taro Side and Arrow Side (iman miit, un miit), and the segregation i n space and time of gardening and hunting. Breach of such tabus opens the way for entropy (the latent p o t e n t i a l of the cosmos) as taro f l e e s to the bush and gardens are invaded by wild pigs and other enemies of gardens. To breach tabu i s to destroy the d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n upon which man's order depends. Here, then, the alignments and di s j u n c t i o n s embodied i n the tabus constitute a grammar of a f f i n i t i e s and antitheses with cosmological, s o c i o l o g i c a l , and even p h y s i o l o g i c a l dimensions. The tabus are a t o t a l system structuring the r e l a t i o n s between man and nature with organize the c i r c u l a t i o n of the f r u i t s of human p r o d u c t i v i t y and inform a l l of t h i s with meaning. At the same time, i t i s necessary once more to underscore the point that the order i m p l i c i t i n the system of tabus i s not seen as a given or a priori order: rather, i t i s , l i k e much else i n the T e l e f o l scheme of things, an order which i s maintained only through men's acts, Man's place i n the world was established when Afek b u i l t the f i r s t yolam—the T e l e f o l i p — a n d made the f i r s t v i l l a g e c l e a r i n g at T e l e f o l i p . Since then Telefolmin have made war on enemies, hunted, and gardened, a l l the while holding f a s t to t h e i r yolam and t h e i r v i l l a g e s , a l l the while reb u i l d i n g T e l e f o l i p and i t s yolam. This i s the hub around which T e l e f o l fortunes revolve, and as the T e l e f o l i p fares, so fare the Telefolmin, But with each remove from t h i s o r i g i n i n time and space there i s a progressive attenuation and d e t e r i o r a t i o n of the order which Afek established. The place Afek carved out for man began with the tasks of c l e a r i n g away the bush and constructing a home for usong, and men's tasks ever since have consisted i n c l e a r i n g and b u i l d i n g , and r e t a i n i n g that which i s t h e i r s . But none of these tasks can be f i n a l l y and permanently completed—the forest reclaims c l e a r i n g s , houses r o t , a l l that men possess may leave them. It i s as though men are forever engaged i n p u l l i n g i n and holding onto that which threatens to s l i p away—women, ch i l d r e n , neighbours, the dead; pigs, taro, l i f e i t s e l f . The T e l e f o l image of t h i s process of loss i s that of water running off a taro l e a f , and t h i s i s man's l i f e . At the same time, the outer world which surrounds man threatens to engulf him—the wild pigs, marsupials, f l y i n g foxes and weeds that invade the gardens; the enemies that come to r a i d ; the grass encroaching on the v i l l a g e plaza. A l l t h i s he must keep at bay. A l l i s le s s now than before. The old are fewer, t h e i r i n f i r m i t i e s a f f l i c t the young. Pigs are k i l l e d to secure well-being, but t h i s only adds to the number of wild pigs that destroy the gardens. Being mortal, men must procreate c h i l d r e n to replace themselves, but t h i s hastens t h e i r own end. The T e l e f o l i p must be r e b u i l t , but each time t h i s i s done the end draws nearer. The waning of the world proceeds at an accelerating pace, the distance between l i f e ' s beginning and end dwindling u n t i l Bagelam eventually f i l l s and, as Afek f o r e t o l d , a c h i l d i s born wearing a mafuum headdress. And t h e n — b i n i m . • F i n i s h . Nothing, If t h i s predicament seems daunting, i t i s not the same as saying that men are helpless. Entropy may s t i l l be combated i f not defeated. This 313 may be done p o s i t i v e l y through life-promoting acts of gardening and nurturing, If women, ch i l d r e n , pigs and usong may abandon men, t h i s i s less l i k e l y i f men look a f t e r them well. At the same time, the encroachment of that which l i e s beyond man's domain may be fought d i r e c t l y through hunting and warfare. Further, Afek l e f t behind means by which men may secure the bulwarks of t h e i r world. One of the most important of these i s the yolam to which usong may return to aid the l i v i n g i n the r i t e s she devised f o r hunting, f i g h t i n g , and gardening. Another means resides i n the food tabus she established to help order the world. A l l of t h e s e — y o l a m , usong, food tabus—may be summed up as amem: sacred, apart, forbidden. Order and coherence to the T e l e f o l world depend upon d i s j u n c t i o n , the demarcation separating what must be kept apart, the d i s c o n t i n u i t i e s that serve to f o r e s t a l l the d i s s o l u t i o n of man's world. This order i s not rooted i n the nature of things, but instead opposes i t . The order Afek bequeathed to Telefolmin i s not a given order, but i s instead one to which men must adhere and which they must preserve (waafunamin), an order that may be v i o l a t e d or destroyed through men's acts. Entropy i s thus r e s i s t e d through the order of tabu and sacredness, a bounding and st r u c t u r i n g of man's world. Order i n Telefolmin ultimately depends on the sacred and the tabu—amem. An exploration of what i s amem i s the next chapter's task. P l a t e 2 : In a garden (note f r u i t pandanus trees i n foreground). Plate 4: A garden house i n the bush from the a i r . 316 317 318 319 Plate 1 1 : Dakasim k i l l s a pig f o r a troublesome usong, whose men amem he bears. Plate 1 2 : T e l e f o l men danced when they fought; Welagim shows his s t y l e while Dakasim holds the s h i e l d whose name i s Nantepnok, "I'm hungry (for enemies)". 321 Plate 15: Running the gauntlet in the public phase of a junior i n i t i a t i o n (Fegolmin; photo courtesy of B. Jones). Plate 16: Two lads shortly after emerging from the daga8al ban. 3 2 2 323 Plate 19: The T e l e f o l i p , the "mother house" for a l l Telefolmin, and the prototype f o r a l l yolam. This house was dismantled and r e b u i l t i n the am dekota r i t e i n 1978 (see f r o n t i s p i e c e ) . Plate 20: A dungam (women's b i r t h and menstrual hut), the route by which Telefolmin enter the world. Plate 21: Ropen, leader of the Ok Bembem c u l t , i n school uniform and accompanied by h i s senior "coaches". Plate 22: Dakasim makes a garden by attacking the forest. 325 CHAPTER 4 THE WORLD OF THE YOLAM i . Introduction Inside the enclosure, on the side where the c i r c l e of dwelling-houses was not complete, stood the r i t u a l men's house: the iwool. Only i n i t i a t e d men and boys are allowed to enter t h i s b u i l d i n g . . . As u n i n i t i a t e d people we were not only not allowed into an iwool, but were not even permitted to look i n through the door... There i s probably not a great deal to be seen i n the iwool... (Brongersma and Venema 1962:89). . . . i t i s probably only through p a r t i c i p a t i o n f o r some time i n Yolam a c t i v i t i e s that an adequate awareness emerges of the mystery of ancestral control of taro, the p o s i t i v e s a n c t i f y i n g e f f e c t of secrecy, and the c o l l e c t i v e o bligations and fate that t i e fellow members of the community together (Earth 1975:117). The Telefolmin are Afek's last-born, the l a s t of a number of peoples she created before she died. This explains both why Telefolmin are shorter than many of t h e i r n e i g h b o u r s — f o r she was an old woman and t i r e d when she gave b i r t h to them—and why Telefolmin are the p r i n c i p a l guardians of her legacy, because they have the l a s t and most immediate connection to her of a l l the peoples to whom she gave r i s e . After she brought f o r t h the Telefolmin she ended her w o r k — i t was f i n i s h e d , and she died and brought no others into the world. Though Afek created a number of pe o p l e s — t h e Oksapmin, the Dulanmin, Sogaamin, I l i g i m i n , Ulapmin, T i f a l m i n , Opkeemin, Kofelmin, and T e l e f o l m i n — she only b u i l t yolam i n three places. The f i r s t was f a r off to the west, near Bagelam and at a place c a l l e d Tumbigilabip, not far from the v i l l a g e c a l l e d Kabolabip among the Kofelmin. These are the people of the Star Mountains of Ir i a n Jaya of whom Brongersma and Venema write (see also Pouwer 1964), and among whom the yolam i s known as iwool or iwoolam. The second was at Bultem, 326 where i t forms the centre (abiip miton, ' p r i n c i p a l v i l l a g e ' or hetkwata, Pidgin "headquarters") of Opkeemin society. The t h i r d was T e l e f o l i p i t s e l f . It i s from these three yolam that a l l the yolam of the Min peoples, known va r i o u s l y as iwool, iwoolam, yawolam, amyol, ameyol, yolam, dawolam, yuwanap, derived. Though there i s undoubtedly a great range of v a r i a t i o n i n the s i g n i f i c a n c e and usages pertaining to yolam among these various peoples, they a l l have two features i n common: they form the f o c a l point around which men's c o l l e c t i v e a c t i v i t i e s turn, and they are a l l circumscribed, sacred, set apart, and t h e i r precincts are secret and forbidden to n o n - i n i t i a t e s (see, e.g., Barth 1975, Brongersma and Venema 1962, Jones 1976, Pouwer 1964). I t ' s not hard to detect a note of sour grapes i n the remark made by Brongersma and Venema about what the Ko f e l analogue of the yolam held. They were, as they recognized, not being accorded the status of f u l l adults (p. 89), and t h i s no doubt was an a f f r o n t . After a l l , they were not simply t o u r i s t s or sight-seers, they were legitimate r e s e a r c h e r s — t h e i r job was to f i n d things out and have a look around, and here the savants were being t o l d by savages that there was something they (the savages) knew that the researchers were not q u a l i f i e d to know. Under the circumstances pique i s understandable, and Brongersma and Venema might be excused for suggesting that the savages r e a l l y had nothing worth seeing or knowing anyway. Neither Brongersma nor Venema were ethnographers—though t h e i r account contains much us e f u l ethnographic d e t a i l — a n d so t h i s was perhaps l i t t l e more than an i r o n i c vignette f or them. In my own case, however, matters stood very d i f f e r e n t l y since my overriding task was to f i n d out about T e l e f o l culture, and much of what I was t o l d persuaded me that somehow or another the heart of the culture was concealed somewhere i n the yolam. But, l i k e Brongersma and Venema, I was also t o l d that I would not be permitted to enter or to peer into i t s i n t e r i o r . The,yolam was amem—sacred, tabu, and, 327 as I came to understand, secret. Here, then, was something more than j u s t a source of annoyance or i r r i t a t i o n , though I must confess to such f e e l i n g s . I was i n e f f e c t being t o l d that what I sought and what was important was to be found, but that i t was beyond my reach. The yolam would not be mine to know. This was a source of deep f r u s t r a t i o n , for quite apart from personal implications ("they're t e l l i n g me I'm not grown up, that I'm not trusted, I'm an outsider. I don't know anything, they're teasing me and toying with me, they're t r y i n g to drive me away" and other h a l f - t r u t h s of f i e l d paranoia), t h i s meant that my work was doomed to be flawed and incomplete. At the outset t h i s was l e s s d i s t u r b i n g . I could t e l l myself—and them—in t r u t h that I had not come to pry into t h e i r yolam. I had come instead to look at l o c a l l e v e l p o l i t i c s , and was more interested i n how men achieved power and influence, what i t was that went in t o making a big man ( c f . Sahlins 1963); I wanted to understand how disputes were s e t t l e d and how prestige and exchange were related (cf. Burridge 1957). I t would be enough to f i n d out about these t h i n g s — I wasn't r e a l l y interested i n the yolam. When, a f t e r several months i n the f i e l d , I r e a l i z e d that there were no big men and that i t was u n l i k e l y that I would ever witness public disputing, I suspected Telefolmin once more of perversely s t a l l i n g my work. I consoled myself by r e c a l l i n g that I was a guest there, and f e l t some admiration and respect for the T e l e f o l a b i l i t y to maintain t h e i r i n t e g r i t y i n the face of what h i s t o r y had brought them i n the form of missions and administration. They had held on to t h e i r yolam and sense of themselves for over two decades, and no doubt much of t h i s could be a t t r i b u t e d to the devotion with which they protected the s a n c t i t y of the yolam ( t h i s was somewhat tarnished when I l a t e r learned that A u s t r a l i a n p a t r o l o f f i c e r s were r e g u l a r l y allowed to enter them). It seemed to me that t h i s was also something deeply rooted i n the T e l e f o l psyche, since they gave the impression of being astonishingly self-contained, circumspect, somewhat dour and reserved i n t h e i r manner. This was not something I should take 328 personally. They were simply being themselves and showing to me one of the underlying features of t h e i r culture, something that I should attend to rather than r e s i s t or resent. B e s i d e s — t h e r e was probably very l i t t l e to see ins i d e t h e i r yolam anyway. This, b a s i c a l l y , was where my understanding of the yolam began. The yolam was important, and part of t h i s was s i g n a l l e d i n the fact that the yolam and everything associated with i t were amem; but because such things were amem, they were by d e f i n i t i o n secret. In the end, i t turned out, I was eventually i n v i t e d to j o i n other men i n the yolam, and even before that some began to t e l l me about things that were amem. But i n f a c t the secrecy surrounding the yolam proved to be important, not only i n terms of understanding the yolam i t s e l f , but also i n terms of grasping what Telefolmin mean when they say something i s amem, as we s h a l l see l a t e r . i i . The Yolam and I t s Contents Yolam i s the generic term Telefolmin give to any house of the men's c u l t , houses from which women and n o n - i n i t i a t e s are debarred. There are three kinds of houses that may be termed yolam: the kabeelam, the katibam, and the yolam proper. Kabeelam are p r i m a r i l y f o r j u n i o r i n i t i a t e s , i . e . , those who have begun but not completed t h e i r i n i t i a t i o n sequence, though any men who have been through at l e a s t the f i r s t i n i t i a t i o n may enter. Kabeel i s the h o r n b i l l , and the kabeelam i s l i t e r a l l y the ' h o r n b i l l house'. Kabeelam are usually r e l a t i v e l y large houses equipped with long verandahs upon which men may perch, much l i k e the gregarious h o r n b i l l s a f t e r which such houses are named. This i s a house i n which youths not f u l l y introduced to the yolam proper may sleep, and such houses serve as dormitories and clubhouses. Katibam are l i t e r a l l y ' l i t t l e houses' (katip + am), so c a l l e d because they are for the exclusive use of old men who are unfortunately never very numerous. Like the kabeelam, the katibam can also serve as a dormitory, but one from 329 which a l l but the most senior men are e x c l u d e d — t h i s permits them to discuss matters i n secrecy and away from the hearing of those not properly introduced to e s o t e r i c l o r e (weng amem). Each of these three kinds of houses shares c e r t a i n features i n common which tend to mark them o f f from the dwelling houses (unangam, l i t e r a l l y 'woman house') that make up the rest of the v i l l a g e . They are a l l s p a t i a l l y segregated from the remainder of the v i l l a g e within the yolabiip, the yolam c l e a r i n g , and the general area of the yolabiip i s avoided by n o n - i n i t i a t e s . As we have already seen, the walls of these houses are not simply made up of s p l i t timbers, as i s the case with other houses. Instead, t h e i r walls are made up of an unbroken l i n e of houseposts (am kun, 'house bone/strength'), and th i s s i g n i f i e s the unity and c o l l e c t i v i t y of the men's congregation as a whole, and also i t s strength. Further, t h i s unbroken l i n e of houseposts serves to enclose the area beneath the f l o o r (kabutem). This i s done to prevent dogs, pigs, or ch i l d r e n from wandering beneath the houses and coming into contact with ashes from t h e i r hearths. Should they do so, they would be endangered. Children would ei t h e r simply die or age prematurely; pigs would become so skinny that t h e i r bones would protrude, and they would die; dogs would bloat and swell u n t i l they too died. The ashes from the hearths are amem and dangerous, and so the walling i n of the kabutem i s a protective measure. Not a l l v i l l a g e s possess the f u l l complement of houses of the yolabiip. In many there w i l l be no katibam at a l l , e s p e c i a l l y i f there are too few old men to warrant the work of constructing one. In such cases they w i l l simply sleep i n the yolam proper i f they wish to remain i n the yolabiip overnight. Again, a number of v i l l a g e s do without kabeelam. P a r t l y t h i s depends upon the number of young junior i n i t i a t e s within the v i l l a g e , and p a r t l y upon the energy of t h e i r seniors. In the absence of a kabeelam, youths w i l l e i t h e r sleep i n the yolam or i n an unangam as the men see f i t . The 330 yolam proper—which can also be distinguished as an amogeen ('house-mother') or amabem (= am + amem, 'house-sacred')—is absolutely e s s e n t i a l to every v i l l a g e , and i s i n v a r i a b l y present. Further, a l l the houses of the yolabiip ought i d e a l l y to be enclosed within the tobaadaam, a l i v i n g fence of red cordyline. This i s not i n v a r i a b l y the case, however, and sometimes kabeelam and katibam may be found outside the c i r c l e of the fence. This i s never so i n the case of yolam proper, and such a fence i s an i n t e g r a l feature of a true yolam. Yolam, therefore, belong to a l l the men and i f . the kabeelam and katibam are more or le s s optional, the yolam proper i s c l e a r l y c r u c i a l to the community of men and to the v i l l a g e as a whole. The fence i s made up of tobaa, the red cordyline, and t h i s marks the boundary beyond which women and c h i l d r e n may not pass. Women, as we have already seen, should be segregated from a number of red things and they are forbidden to touch tobaa. This i s for t h e i r own protection, and men say t h i s also serves to protect them from the usong housed within the yolam, who may cause sickness. In addition, tobaa have sinik ( ' s p i r i t ' ) , and men say they act as sentries and whistle i f any trespassers go beyond the fence. This w h i s t l i n g draws the attention of the usong (yolam s p i r i t s ) who w i l l then take appropriate action. I t i s t h i s property of tobaa that men put to use i f a v i l l a g e has been troubled by sickness from outside the v i l l a g e or i f many people have seen apparitions (bush s p i r i t s or sometimes ghosts) hovering near the v i l l a g e : tobaa w i l l be planted along the paths at the margins of the bush, thus barring the way for further such troubles. F i n a l l y , the fence i s also meant to keep domestic pigs out of the yolabiip, for should they enter t h i s area t h e i r f l e s h would become tabu and dangerous (amem) to women and chi l d r e n : only those permitted to enter the yolam would be able to eat i t . This o c c a s i o n a l l y served as a means whereby men could c o n t r o l women whose s h r i l l quarrels disrupted v i l l a g e l i f e , for t h e i r pigs could be seized and 331 taken by men within the fence, thereby depriving a l l women (and children) of pork. Within the yard enclosed by the fence a few plants may be found such as bananas (suum), a yam perhaps (waan amem, waan aalab, nelii) , and one or two v a r i e t i e s of ginger (kumak, sebalam). Iii a ddition to these there w i l l also be a number of grasses and weeds, which i t i s forbidden (amem once again) to uproot or disturb ( c f . Brongersma and Venema 1962:plate 14). Beyond l i e s the yolam i t s e l f and i t s small oval door surmounted by a carved and painted facade i n red, white, and black, the amitung (cf. B. Craig 1967).''" It takes some time for the eyes to adjust to the dark i n t e r i o r of T e l e f o l houses, since there are no windows and but a sin g l e small doorway. This i s true of yolam as well, but when one's eyes do adjust i t becomes clear one i s not i n an ordinary house. As i n a l l T e l e f o l houses there are two hearths, set on the r i g h t and the l e f t of the doorway, and much of the i n t e r i o r has the coal black sheen from smoky f i r e s . But the walls bear l i t t l e resemblance to those of other houses. What s t r i k e s one at f i r s t i s that there i s l i t t l e of the ordinary pandanus bark l i n i n g to be seen. I t i s there, to be sure, but i t i s obscured from view by row a f t e r row of domestic pigs' jaws running the e n t i r e length of the b u i l d i n g and extending from f l o o r to c e i l i n g . Though soot darkened, the jaws are painted i n a l t e r n a t i n g bands of red and white with ochre (bagan) and powdered limestone (bogung). Beyond t h i s , however, there i s something else that holds the eye, for one's gaze i s drawn towards the blackened netbags that are the men amem containing the s k u l l s of the usong; often enough, the usong return one's gaze from empty sockets that stare out past rotted bark s t r i n g and through the doorway to look over the v i l l a g e as a whole. Hanging i n a row at eye l e v e l along the back w a l l , the assembled company of usong are the permanent residents of the yolam, the a r r e s t i n g presence around which the yolam i s b u i l t . 332 The i n t e r i o r of the yolam i s divided into two halves, the iman ilo and the un ilo (Taro side, Arrow s i d e ) , corresponding to the two d i v i s i o n s of men into Taro and Arrow spheres (iman miit, un miit) r e s p e c t i v e l y . The usong and t h e i r men. amem are likewise so divided into iman men and un men, and only a man belonging to the Taro side may have contact with iman men and only men of the Arrow side may come into contact with un men. The d i v i s i o n i n the yolam of Taro and Arrow i s a r e f l e c t i o n of the cosmological separation of nurturing and k i l l i n g , gardening and hunting, and i n most yolam the Arrow f l o o r and i t s hearth (un abiin, un tuul) are oriented i n the d i r e c t i o n of enemy t e r r i t o r y or hunting grounds (nuk bagan, saaman bagan), while the Taro f l o o r and hearth are oriented i n the d i r e c t i o n of major gardening areas (iman bagan, iman Hang). Thus within the yolam one generally finds the things of gardening—say, the adze (fubi) of an usong—arranged along the back wall of the iman abiin, while the things of war and h u n t i n g — s h i e l d s (at kom), arrows (un), black palm or stone-headed clubs (biyal sinam, tingii), or cane cuirasses (naam) of the usong—along the un abiin. Here too we fi n d a r e f l e c t i o n of the dichotomy between wild and domestic pigs (saaman and kong), and while the usong l i k e the smell and the f a t of any pigs, men must take care to cook wild pigs (and eels, aaningok) only i n the Arrow hearth and domestic pigs only i n the Taro hearth. Should t h i s order be v i o l a t e d , or should the ashes from the two hearths be mixed, entropy would reign free with the f l i g h t of taro and domestic pigs and the invasion of wild pigs and enemies. i i i . The T e l e f o l i p Of a l l the yolam i n Telefolmin, one stands apart from the r e s t . This i s the T e l e f o l i p i t s e l f that was f i r s t b u i l t by Afek and has been r e b u i l t on the same s i t e by Telefolmin ever since. This i s the house which the I l i g i m i n attempted to destroy and for which the I l i g i m i n were annihilated. I t 333 not only looks a f t e r the people of T e l e f o l i p per se, nor even j u s t the T e l e f o l m i n — t h i s i s the mother house (amogeen) of a l l Afek's descendants (Afekman) and the fortunes of a l l these peoples (even those at enmity with Telefolmin) are bound to t h i s house. The T e l e f o l i p i s the larges t man-made structure i n the T e l e f o l world, a towering house looming above the v i l l a g e named a f t e r i t , r i s i n g to over ten meters i n height, a stature undiminished by the tin-roofed buildings of the government or mission st a t i o n s . The T e l e f o l i p ' s massive presence i s not only f e l t within the v i l l a g e i t s e l f , f o r i t may be c l e a r l y seen from a number of d i s t a n t ridges and h i l l s , a house emerging from the f o r e s t . The c e n t r a l place of the T e l e f o l i p as Afek's house takes v i s i b l e shape i n i t s s i z e — i t i s the huge house, the am afek, and men convey t h i s by saying i t i s the "headquarters" of a l l the Min peoples (cf. Pidgin hetkwata), and they compare i t to the House of Parliament i n the c a p i t a l of Port Moresby, of which they have heard. The v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p has two entrances, the men's path (tenum Hep) and the women's path (unang Hep), the former entering the v i l l a g e v i a the yolabiip and the l a t t e r s k i r t i n g around through the low and muddy area below the v i l l a g e to enter from the side, near where the dungam and administratively required p i t l a t r i n e s are located. Anyone may enter the v i l l a g e along the women's path, but only those who have been introduced to the yolam may enter by the men's path. The men's path branches off from general walking t r a c t s and leads into the yolabiip through a b e a u t i f u l p a r k - l i k e grove of hoop-pines (dli). These trees are the t a l l e s t and oldest to be found i n the e n t i r e v a l l e y of Ifitaman, t a l l e r even than the giants of the deep f o r e s t . The grove i s the Telefolip dlitem ('in the midst of the T e l e f o l i p hoop-pines'), and i s amem, sacred. V i s i b l e from miles away, they mark the spot that Afek selected f or the s i t e of T e l e f o l i p , and they may not be cut or damaged, nor may any of the other f l o r a or fauna of the grove. Walking along through the cool 334 broken shade of the grove one i s i n a world that remains primeval and r e c a l l s the events of the beginning of the T e l e f o l cosmos. The t a l l e s t hoop pine i n the grove i s the tree upon which Ataanim, the Sun himself, sat when he and Afek conversed; a c l e f t c u t t i n g through the ridge at r i g h t angles i s where the t a i l of Ungkigingim, a monstrous snake, f i n a l l y came to rest when he was k i l l e d by h i s mother's brother, and the profusion of bamboo j u s t beyond i t i s where h i s skin sloughed o ff at h i s death. In amongst the undergrowth on the west can be seen the s p i k e - l i k e leaves of the Man Vine, the tenum sok, whose crown holds b r i l l i a n t flame-like flowers of almost translucent s c a r l e t . This i s i n the d i r e c t i o n of I f i k o t , the place where the Ok I f i cuts a ravine past the v i l l a g e . To the east l i e s Mofumkot, where Afek made her f i r s t gardens. Here the white flowers of the Taro Vine, the iman sok, ramble from the men's path and through the bush below. Of a l l the things i n the grove, these two vines (sok, 'vine/rope/lashing') are the most sacred and must not be in t e r f e r e d with. I f the Man Vine i s cut or damaged, there w i l l be sickness and death for Telefolmin and a l l of Afek's descendants; i f the Taro Vine i s harmed the taro crops of a l l of these peoples w i l l s u f f e r . Emerging from the grove and into the sunlight of the yolabiip one can see the Kuyapkan (the s p e c i a l name for the T e l e f o l i p kabeelam), the katibam, and the T e l e f o l i p i t s e l f . Here, i n the cleared area j u s t outside the cordyline fence i s a huge mound of charred stone, remnants of cooking stones from generations of feasts held by men here. Here also i s an i s o l a t e d protruding p i l l a r of earth surmounted by a tobaa, the K i n g b o l t i l where the blood of domestic pigs k i l l e d i n yolam r i t e s flows into the earth. Just beyond l i e s a low mound under which l i e the corpses of a woman and her husband, both of whom had to be k i l l e d a f t e r she had witnessed something which was amem. On the other side l i e s the s t i l e over which one crosses the fence and approaches the T e l e f o l i p i t s e l f . 335 Men may enter t h i s enclosure at any time, providing a number of circumstances are met. A man may not enter beyond the fence i f he i s carrying or has recently k i l l e d or eaten cassowaries, marsupials (nuk), red o i l pandanus (em) or bananas (suum, p a r t i c u l a r l y those v a r i e t i e s that are eaten raw)—here i t i s i n t e r e s t i n g to note that men speak of harvesting pandanus and bananas i n the same terms with which they r e f e r to game, as a matter of ' k i l l i n g ' (aamin). A man i s also prohibited entry i f he has recently had sexual intercourse or i f h i s wife has recently given b i r t h . F i n a l l y , men may not enter immediately a f t e r the death of a close r e l a t i v e . The path through the yard of the T e l e f o l i p goes round the house on the I f i k o t side, and here two small mounds stand, one i n the front, and one i n the rear of the house, and these are complemented by two s i m i l a r mounds on the east or Mofumkot side. The I f i k o t side i s of the Arrow sphere, and each of these mounds has red tobaa growing from them, and at the top are placed the perforated stone discs of tingii war clubs. On the top of the two corresponding mounds on the Mofumkot side are no club heads, and cordyline plants grow from them, but they are the green kong kasak v a r i e t y associated with domestic p i g (kong) husbandry. This corresponds with the i n t e r n a l d i v i s i o n of the T e l e f o l i p into Arrow side and Taro side, and a c l o s e r look at the enclosed area shows that plants i n which green leaves and white flowers predominate are to be found on the Mofumkot or Taro side, while the colour red predominates i n the plants of the I f i k o t or Arrow side. Aside from the imposing s i z e of the T e l e f o l i p , i t i s marked by some features which tend to d i s t i n g u i s h i t from other yolam. One of these i s a small awning-like platform above the door upon which men dance during one phase of the taro r i t e , the iman ban. In addition to t h i s , the outside walls of the T e l e f o l i p are covered with a herring-bone pattern of wooden s l a t s (see Plate 19).. During the construction of the T e l e f o l i p , each man i s assigned one v e r t i c a l column of such s l a t s to b u i l d , during which time they must sing 336 con t i n u a l l y . Exceptionally f a s t workers may complete two such columns, and t h i s i s taken as a sign that they w i l l become polygynous and marry two wives. This pattern was given to Afek by the Sun, Ataanim, when he sat atop the hoop-pine and i s c a l l e d un miip, 'arrow binding'. In t h i s way i t i s hoped that the houseposts w i l l a l l be securely bound while at the same time i n d i c a t i n g that the T e l e f o l i p walls consist metaphorically of a fence of arrows. The f l o o r of the T e l e f o l i p i s quite high, being elevated perhaps twenty feet or so above the ground. The i n t e r i o r of the T e l e f o l i p i s much l i k e that of other yolam, with the Arrow hearth located on the I f i k o t side of the f l o o r and the Taro hearth located on the Mofumkot side. There are some dif f e r e n c e s , however. The house i s considerably larger i n f l o o r area than other yolam, i n keeping with i t s o v e r a l l proportions and i t s pre-eminent place among yolam. Further, there i s l i t t l e wood to be seen along the walls, for they are completely covered by row a f t e r row of painted jawbones of domestic pigs. They number' at l e a s t i n the thousands—I o r i g i n a l l y began counting them on entry, and my T e l e f o l i p companions were delighted that I kept l o s i n g track, for t h i s confirmed what they had already t o l d me: there are pigs' jaws there beyond counting. Unlike some other yolam, there are also a f a i r number of i n t a c t s k u l l s and jawbones of wild pigs i n the T e l e f o l i p arranged around the edges and margins of the walls: along the floorboards and where the roof adjoins the walls, and surrounding the doorway. Unlike the domestic jawbones, from which they are r e a d i l y distinguished by the presence of large tusks, these are painted e n t i r e l y red with ochre instead of having alternations of red and white. F i n a l l y , there i s one further d i f f e r e n c e which i s both i n t r i g u i n g and perplexing: ;there are only two men amem i n the T e l e f o l i p , one for Taro and the other for Arrow. The men explained that these were the only men amem they kept i n T e l e f o l i p . I was refused the names of these two usong, since t h i s i s extremely amem; when I suggested that they were perhaps Afek 337 h e r s e l f and Ataanim, or perhaps Afek and her younger brother, t h i s was vehemently denied. In the T e l e f o l i p , as i n a l l other yolam, the d i v i s i o n between Taro and Arrow i s paramount. In the case of T e l e f o l i p , however, i t i s a d i v i s i o n d e riving d i r e c t l y from Afek h e r s e l f . When she was constructing the T e l e f o l i p she struck the ground on the s i t e with her digging s t i c k , breaking a mound there i n two. This was the separation of the realm of hunting and warfare from that of gardening and p i g rearing, and the reason the f l o o r of the T e l e f o l i p i s elevated to the height that i t i s derives from t h i s deed, f o r the twin hearths are situated d i r e c t l y above the two mounds that she thus created by sundering the earth. Under the f l o o r of the T e l e f o l i p are the roots and the source (magam, mi-it) of the Man Vine and Taro Vine, the one stemming from the Arrow side, the other from the Taro side. These two vines run out throughout the surrounding countryside with many unseen underground shoots, and connect the earth with men's well-being and Afek's d i v i s i o n between Arrow and Taro. I t i s t h i s , among other things, that the T e l e f o l i p shelters and conceals, and i t i s also these two vines that the T e l e f o l i p sustains, for below i t s f l o o r (abiin) l i e s the 'umbilical cord' (abin) connecting i t with the earth. Knowledge of t h i s i s highly amem for a number of reasons, one of which i s the p o s s i b i l i t y that someone might attempt to destroy one or both of the vines: a couple of generations ago a man was distraught and furious at the death of h i s son and attempted to hack the Man Vine under the T e l e f o l i p f l o o r with an adze and he had to be shot to prevent i t s destruction. i v . I n i t i a t i o n s While the yolam and i t s usong serve generally to protect the v i l l a g e and i t s members, i t i s also the context f o r a serie s of r i t e s known by the general term ban. There are bans of many kinds but the majority of them are i n i t i a t o r y i n character and serve to introduce novices into a new stage of 338 p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the community of the yolam and the world of things amem. In addition, many such bans may have other aims as w e l l , as we s h a l l see. In general there are a number of features a l l bans share regardless of t h e i r p a r t i c u l a r type. Women are always excluded, with the exception of the kong ban, which i s both a feast and a r i t e designed to promote the growth and health of domestic pigs. During the course of a ban there are secret (amem) and more public (here, kem, 'open, v i s i b l e ' ) phases; whatever transpires during the secret phases must remain unknown to those who have not p a r t i c i p a t e d i n them, and as i n other cases of amem p r o h i b i t i o n s , t h i s i s as much for the protection of non-participants and the safeguarding of the world at large as i t i s a matter of p r i v i l e g e . The p a r t i c i p a n t s i n the ban are known as ban kasel and may not have d i r e c t p h y s i c a l contact or share food with those who are not p a r t i c i p a n t s . Not only would t h i s s p o i l the ban i t s e l f , i t would endanger non-participants as w e l l , since p a r t i c i p a n t s are charged with mamiin, a powerful 'heat' during the course of the ban. I t goes without saying that none of the p a r t i c i p a n t s may have sexual intercourse immediately before, during, or a f t e r a ban. Because of the mamiin with which they are charged, most p a r t i c i p a n t s — e s p e c i a l l y the novices or i n i t i a n d s , known as Hang, which i s also the general term for garden—must not come into contact with water, since i t w i l l cool them and i s also i n i m i c a l to sinik, or s p i r i t . In addition to these features, there are c e r t a i n other c h a r a c t e r i s t i c aspects of most bans. Many of them involve men amem or other r e l i c s and hence imply the p a r t i c i p a t i o n of usong. The l i v i n g p a r t i c i p a n t s are of course divided into i n i t i a t o r s and i n i t i a n d s , and men of the former category are further subdivided into two groups on the basis of the functions they perform i n r e l a t i o n to the i n i t i a n d s . Most bans of an i n i t i a t o r y kind include phases i n which novices are beaten, threatened, or otherwise subjected to hardship. The men who do t h i s f a l l into one category and may be known va r i o u s l y as magayim, 'enemies' (waasi) or F a t h e r s . ( a a l a b a l ) . There i s a second group of 339 i n i t i a t o r s , however, who remain with the i n i t i a n d s throughout a l l or most of t h e i r t r i a l s and who protect, feed, and succor the youths. These men are t h e i r ogeenal., t h e i r Mothers. This d i v i s i o n of i n i t i a t o r s on the basis of th e i r p a r t i c i p a t i o n v i s - a - v i s the i n i t i a n d s does not remain constant from one i n i t i a t i o n to the next, though there i s some tendency for Mothers to repeat t h e i r r o l e f o r p a r t i c u l a r boys i f they are so i n c l i n e d . Further, these r e l a t i o n s are independent of those of kinship, and neither Fathers or Mothers need be kinsmen of any p a r t i c u l a r type to the i n i t i a n d s . There i s , however, one r e s t r i c t i o n pertaining to kinship, namely, that i t i s forbidden for a father to come into d i r e c t contact with h i s son during the l a t t e r ' s i n i t i a t i o n . Should t h i s happen, or should a father touch h i s son's face paint of ochre, the 2 father w i l l age prematurely and di e . I t i s c l e a r , therefore, that the Fathers and Mothers i n i n i t i a t i o n s are so e n t i r e l y by v i r t u e of t h e i r r o l e i n the r i t u a l s themselves. Aside from the organization of p a r t i c i p a n t s , there are c e r t a i n other broad features that most i n i t i a t i o n s have i n common. Most bans are accompanied by the k i l l i n g of pigs and a small feast f o r the p a r t i c i p a n t s , and foods of various kinds may become prohibited or permitted as the r e s u l t of p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n bans. . I t i s also generally the case that there w i l l be a p r o h i b i t i o n of v a r i a b l e duration on the sharing of red o i l pandanus between fathers and recently i n i t i a t e d sons following a ban. Some time a f t e r the conclusion of a ban the youths who have passed through i t w i l l present a small feast of red o i l pandanus to t h e i r Mothers as compensation for the care they provided, and t h i s i s named a f t e r the s p e c i f i c ban concerned, e.g., a dagasal bit i s made for the Mothers of a dagasal ban, a mafuum biZ i s made for the Mothers of a mafuum ban, etc. One of the most s i g n i f i c a n t aspects of a l l bans i s the admission of the novices to the world of men's knowledge, and a l l bans -embody..teaching of various kinds. There are several d i s t i n c t T e l e f o l speech genres employed i n 340 bans, and these are generally used by the Mothers of the novices during various phases of the r i t e s . One such genre i s weng kern, 'open speech'. Weng kem i s non-sacred speech that may be used i n a wide range of contexts and generally has the character of moral i n s t r u c t i o n . This i s present i n a l l bans, but plays an e s p e c i a l l y prominent r o l e i n the fourth i n i t i a t i o n of the sequence, the mafuum ban, which emphasizes the growing maturity of novices on the threshold of adulthood. In weng kem the Mothers i n s t r u c t the youths i n proper conduct. There are warnings about the dangers of adultery and swaggering pride: youths should not r e l y on the wives of elder brothers for help i n gardening, l e s t they become too close; young men wishing to marry should not speak of t h i s or boast of t h e i r prowess, but q u i e t l y demonstrate t h e i r industry i n energetic gardening and hunting and d i s p l a y t h e i r mettle through generosity and quiet g i f t s to o t h e r s — t h e n men w i l l think of marrying t h e i r s i s t e r s or daughters to them. The strength and v i t a l i t y of youth i s something which they should learn to handle properly: i f there i s heavy work to be done (for example, i n housebuilding) they should lend a hand to t h e i r elders rather than running o f f to the bush l i k e c h i l d r e n ; wet and cold and rainy weather should not deter them from hunting at night i n the f o r e s t , f or i t w i l l be harder for them to do when they get older and are less hardy; i f there i s a dance, they should dance e n e r g e t i c a l l y and strongly, but they should remember that the dances are for a l l , even white-haired men, and even the most decrepit ancient has a r i g h t to dance without being made fun o f — t h e y w i l l be old themselves soon enough. Young men should avoid the temptation to exult i n t h e i r bodies or use t h e i r youth and strength to dominate others. By a l l means, they are to be hard, hot, and st i n g i n g (kun-so, mamiin-so, atul-so) with t h e i r enemies and those who would take advantage of them, and t h e i r anger (oolisak, 'belly blood', tibisak, 'forehead blood', bubul atul, 'stinging heart', bubul mafak, 'bad heart') should be f i e r c e . But among f r i e n d s , neighbours, and k i n they must also l e a r n to temper t h i s and to be open and receptive to others' 341 needs, to be soft-spoken and c o n c i l i a t o r y (bet bubul, 'soft heart'). When they have something, they should be prepared to give i t ; i f a man's chil d r e n are crying they are probably hungry and one should not go to eat at h i s house, but instead leave a b i t of taro on t h e i r verandah without words. If there i s an old man staying i n the v i l l a g e when others have gone o f f to the bush, one should s i t and t a l k with him and keep him company or bring him some meat from the hunt. When a man i s d i s t r i b u t i n g pork he should see that none are l e f t out, nor should he deny a share to men simply because they are u n l i k e l y to reciprocate. When a young man has a family he should clear many gardens for his wife and c h i l d r e n , b u i l d strong fences, plant and look a f t e r h i s taro and h i s planting stock w e l l , and he should hunt r e g u l a r l y to provide meat for h i s wife and c h i l d r e n . But he should not spend a l l h i s time i n the bush l i k e a hermit or some forest animal and should return to the v i l l a g e often to share the company of other men and sleep with them i n the yolam. If he finds good men's food i n the bush, he must bring t h i s back to the v i l l a g e to share i t • with others rather than gorging himself. And i f , for some reason, he i s angered by another v i l l a g e r , h i s mouth should not be hot and h i s words angry. Instead he should not give others shame (fitom) but be patient and quiet. The man who does these things w i l l l i v e l o n g — t h o s e who do not w i l l die early and i n v i t e the attentions of tamoon and biit sorcerers, angry usong, and w i l l be avoided by r e s e n t f u l neighbours. A l l these things are taught to youths i n the weng kem given them i n t h e i r i n i t i a t i o n s , and i t i s thus that they are taught how to conduct themselves l i k e men i n Telefolmin. In ad d i t i o n to i n s t r u c t i o n i n weng kem, novices are both entertained and instructed with weng doo. Weng doo i s a v e i l e d or i n d i r e c t form of speech which generally has metaphorical content. In the context of i n i t i a t i o n s , weng doo i s also entertaining and often funny, and shares the nature of both jokes and r i d d l e s . Boo fukunin means to r e c a l l or remember, and weng doo i s perhaps best understood as speech which reminds people and evokes memories or 342 thoughts. Weng doo i s not simply spoken, but i s often pantomimed with h i l a r i o u s e f f e c t — i n weng doo the misdeeds or misadventures of the youths present are r e c a l l e d , alluded to, and dramatized while the d e t a i l s of i d e n t i t i e s , places, and other circumstances are concealed. For example, when Dakasim was a l i t t l e boy he and h i s brother Bufalok got some bi r d s i n the bush and had b u i l t a t i n y f i r e i n which to cook them when an old man came upon them. Scattering the feathers into the undergrowth and concealing the bi r d s , they hoped to avoid having to share them with the old fellow. He asked them why they had b u i l t a f i r e there i n the middle of nowhere, and they r e p l i e d (feebly) that they were cold and had merely stopped to warm themselves. The old man nodded and continued on h i s way, and t h e i r l i e permitted them to dine undetected. They had gotten away with i t . Several years l a t e r , however, when Dakasim was i n the mafuum ban he saw the same old man, i n company with other Mothers, pantomime the following scene. Two small boys (with l i t t l e boy voices) shot dozens of b i r d s , h a s t i l y loading one a f t e r the other into t h e i r netbags u n t i l they were st u f f e d . They b u i l t a roaring f i r e (here, i n the hearth) i n which to cook them when a skinny and starving old man staggered along, and the audience roared at the antics of the boys as they f r a n t i c a l l y t r i e d to conceal a l l the birds behind and under the bushes (here, members of the audience). The ancient came and, a f t e r giving the two boys some succulent sugar cane, wondered at such a big f i r e on such a f i n e day, whereupon the boys claimed they were cold and began shivering (but with fear rather than cold, t h e i r eyes enormous). After some dialogue f i l l e d with puns—-e.g., what f i n e arrows (un—but the word for b i r d i s uun) the two boys had!—the old man staggered o ff into the f o r e s t , where he died of star v a t i o n while the two boys wolfed down t h e i r food. The performance was enjoyed by a l l the novices, and served (as does a l l weng doo) to l i g h t e n the discomfort, apprehension, and fear of the i n i t i a t i o n i t s e l f . Mothers work hard at such s k i t s to make the going easier, f o r they a l l know how t r y i n g and frightening the i n i t i a t i o n s 343 are f o r the boys. But there i s also a serious point, and a l l weng doo have a moral which serves to prod the boys' awareness of t h e i r shortcomings as c h i l d r e n and t h e i r r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s as men. Weng doo are thus a sort of lighthearted commentary on the f a l l i b i l i t y of youth, and while providing comic r e l i e f f o r the otherwise extremely serious business of i n i t i a t i o n , they provide ( l i k e the r e s t of the i n i t i a t i o n process) food for thought and r e f l e c t i o n . In addition, f o r each such weng doo there i s at l e a s t one member of the audience to whom i t speaks personally but d i s c r e e t l y : the unnamed youth w i l l r e a l i z e that a l l along he has been under scrutiny. He i s not p u b l i c l y shamed, as he would be i f he.were.identified, but he knows that h i s misdeeds have not escaped notice. Older men, i n f a c t , r a r e l y rebuke boys d i r e c t l y , but they are always on the lookout for misbehaviour that w i l l be q u i e t l y f i l e d away u n t i l i t i s time to remind boys l a t e r i n weng doo. Though youths are taught weng kem and weng doo i n t h e i r i n i t i a t i o n s , such things are not themselves amem and may be f r e e l y discussed outside the i n i t i a t i o n context. This i s not so, however, for the t h i r d major speech genre employed i n i n i t i a t i o n , weng amem. Weng amem i s speech that i s sacred, tabu, forbidden, powerful, and secret. I reserve discussion of weng amem for a subsequent section, but for now w i l l simply say that most weng amem consists of mythic narratives about the doings of Afek (Afek sang).' Such narratives may not be discussed i n the hearing of women, for i t i s dangerous to them— should a woman hear weng amem her b e l l y would swell u n t i l she became huge and died. If c h i l d r e n or youths who have not passed through the appropriate i n i t i a t i o n hear weng amem they would remain small and t h e i r growth stunted. In addition, a man who revealed weng amem would run the r i s k of h i s taro running away and r e t a l i a t i o n by usong or other men. Weng amem i s not i d l e t a l k , and should not be spoken too often, even among those who may converse about such things. I t has e f f i c a c y , and most of the phrases used i n ei t h e r Taro or Arrow r i t u a l are highly secret and known only to the men of the 344 appropriate sphere—should a Taro man learn of the inner core (magam) of weng amem of the Arrow sphere, his success i n both gardening and hunting would be jeopardized, and the same holds true i n the case of Arrow men learning the weng amem of the Taro side. The d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n of Arrow and Taro must be maintained and applies not only to the concrete acts of nurturing and k i l l i n g or the d i v i s i o n of the yolam, but to speech and knowledge i t s e l f . The i n i t i a t o r y bans i n Telefolmin are arranged i n a sequence which a boy enters at perhaps age seven or so and completes some years l a t e r , generally when he i s i n h i s mid-twenties. The bans of the seri e s are: dagasal ban, om ban, tlalalep ban, mafuum ban, ot ban, and tap ban, I w i l l sketch each of these i n turn. i v . ( a ) . Dagasal Ban The dagasal ban i s the f i r s t of the i n i t i a t i o n sequence and i s a r e l a t i v e l y small scale event which may be held i n any v i l l a g e independently of other v i l l a g e s , though occasionally v i l l a g e s w i l l combine for t h i s purpose, e s p e c i a l l y i f each has only a few lads to i n i t i a t e . The dagasal ban begins rather gently, and some consideration i s given to age d i f f e r e n t i a l s among the boys to be i n i t i a t e d . The younger boys, some of whom may only be around s i x years o l d , are exempted from the f u l l treatment given out to those s l i g h t l y older, who may be as old as ten or twelve years, depending on the amount of time that elapsed between the current and the previous dagasal ban. On the afternoon of the day appointed for the commencement of the r i t e , the boys are assembled by the men who w i l l act as t h e i r Mothers and taken to a dwelling house selected for the r i t e . A l l others w i l l be prohibited from t h i s house for the time being. The boys are generally apprehensive and f e a r f u l , f o r although they know, nothing of the d e t a i l s of the r i t e , they know that they w i l l be introduced into the yolam, which has up u n t i l now been prohibited to them and the object of fear. They w i l l also have 345 heard rumours and t a l l tales about h o r r i b l e things that happen to boys i n i n i t i a t i o n s , p a r t i c u l a r l y i f they have been poorly behaved. This general sense of misgiving i s probably i n t e n s i f i e d by the f a c t that they w i l l have been given no p r i o r warning of the i n i t i a t i o n , and when they are c o l l e c t e d by the men who w i l l be t h e i r Mothers, t h e i r r e a l mothers begin crying and wailing songs that i n d i c a t e they w i l l be l o s i n g t h e i r sons and fear they may die. For a l l these reasons they are uneasy, and some t r y to run away. Few succeed, f o r they receive no help from others and t h e i r fathers stand by impassively as they are taken o f f . Many cry and some lose t h e i r bladder c o n t r o l , but they are cautioned not to r e s i s t or to struggle, f o r otherwise things w i l l go harder for them i n what i s to come. Thus wrenched from t h e i r homes and t h e i r f a m i l i e s , they s i t i n a dwelling house with t h e i r Mothers who explain that they w i l l look a f t e r them and see that they come to no harm. This i s followed by the performance of weng doo which serves to d i s s i p a t e some of the tension and put the boys at ease. Sometime during the course of t h i s , one p a r t i c u l a r weng doo w i l l be put to them i n the form of a r i d d l e . An old man w i l l enter the house, and i n h i s closed hand the beak of a small b i r d w i l l be v i s i b l y protruding. He walks round the i n t e r i o r of.the house, showing t h i s to a l l the boys while keeping his hand closed around the b i r d a l l the while. Then he puts the question to them: i s the b i r d dead or ali v e ? Each must answer i n turn, but as can be seen, the answer i s elusive. Some say the b i r d i s a l i v e , others say i t i s dead, o t h e r s . s t i l l say they don't know. Rarely, one of the boys gives the correct answer to the r i d d l e . If so, the men present s i l e n t l y take note of him, for he w i l l be watched and l a t e r given intensive i n s t r u c t i o n i n sacred and secret (amem) matters. I f not, i t i s of no importance, and i n any event nothing more i s said of the matter. For some, the meaning of the r i d d l e w i l l be explained l a t e r when they are older; for others i t w i l l simply remain a r i d d l e . 346 The ban i s now i n progress, and none of the p a r t i c i p a n t s may drink water from t h i s point u n t i l the conclusion of the r i t e . Shortly before sunset the older boys are segregated from the younger boys. The l a t t e r remain i n the house with some of t h e i r Mothers while the others are taken outside. There the other i n i t i a t o r s , the Fathers, are assembled i n two ranks leading.from the door of the house to the entry of the fence, where the boys and t h e i r Mothers w i l l enter the yolabiip. In t h e i r hands the Fathers (who are also c a l l e d the waasi, enemies) hold switches or bundles of tagaa, stinging n e t t l e s , including one p a r t i c u l a r v a r i e t y whose name i s kalbio, 'here I am!'. This i s a gauntlet which the boys must run to enter the safety of the yolabiip. Again, many are frightened by the spectacle of the painted men who w i l l f l o g them, and some try to run away. These boys never succeed, and for them a s p e c i a l l y severe beating i s i n store. The rest of the villagers—women and c h i l d r e n and the fathers of the boys—stand on the verandahs of t h e i r houses to watch, and some shout comments to the i n i t i a t o r s . If a boy has been badly behaved a mother or father may t e l l the Fathers to r e a l l y give i t to him, while others may t e l l them to be easy with t h e i r boy. Most of the boys w i l l have seen t h i s at l e a s t once before as spectators, but t h i s time they are the subjects of such treatment. For most boys the worst part of t h i s experience i s the apprehension and the f r i g h t i t s e l f , for t h e i r Mothers w i l l run the gauntlet with them and protect and s h i e l d them with t h e i r backs while the c h i l d r e n run below and ahead of them. Thus i n most cases i t i s the Mother rather than the boy who takes the greatest beating. But i f a boy i s or has been troublesome, h i s Mother w i l l stand aside and the boy w i l l have to negotiate the passage to the yolabiip on h i s own, h i s back taking the f u l l weight of the blows of the Fathers. Once insi d e the yolabiip a l l the p a r t i c i p a n t s assemble. Here the boys are taught the songs of the dagasal, the tandet, young children's i n i t i a t i o n songs. They sing of leaving t h e i r mothers and of leaving behind 347 foods such as yook, the tasty pigeons which w i l l henceforth be prohibited to them u n t i l a f t e r they have become men. Then the door of the yolam i s unboarded and most of the Mothers go i n s i d e . At the entrance to the yolam stand two of the Mothers who hold cucumbers (timiit) i n t h e i r hands. The cucumbers have been cut i n h a l f , and each of these men stands on either side of the doorway with a piece of cucumber i n each hand. The boys are l i n e d up i n rough order of s e n i o r i t y and are then ready to.enter the yolam as t w i l i g h t begins. A.s each boy enters, the two Mothers slap him on the chest and the back with the cucumber so that the j u i c e runs down over both sides of the boy's heart. This i s done for a number of reasons, though t h i s i s not explained to the boys. I t i s meant to promote growth and make the boys s t r a i g h t and t a l l (timitiim; the cucumber i s both st r a i g h t and the most quickly maturing crop i n the garden, along with beans, rhiiV); i t i s also said that the coolness and moisture of the cucumber j u i c e protect the boys from the heat (jnamiin) of the usong who are about to meet them; i n any event, cucumber j u i c e i s said to soothe the hot pain of stinging n e t t l e s , which can r a i s e welts on a boy's skin (remembering that water i s forbidden). As the boys enter the yolam for the f i r s t time they are t o l d a l t e r n a t e l y to s i t at one hearth or the other: one w i l l s i t at the Taro hearth, the next at the Arrow hearth, the one a f t e r him at the Taro hearth, and so on u n t i l a l l have been seated. Thus i t i s that boys become all o c a t e d to Arrow or.Taro sides. Occasionally a boy w i l l be seated on a p a r t i c u l a r side out of turn. This i s most l i k e l y to happen i f i t has been made known that a man—perhaps h i s father or h i s mother's brother—wishes s p e c i f i c a l l y to pass h i s e s o t e r i c knowledge (weng amem) of a p a r t i c u l a r sphere (Arrow or Taro) on to the boy i n question. When a l l are seated the Mothers explain to them that from t h i s day forward they belong either to Arrow side or to Taro side, as w e l l as explaining the d i f f e r e n c e between the two and the f a c t that i t i s forbidden (amem) to mix them. 348 Hanging from the c e i l i n g of the yolam are a number of bamboo tubes. These containers are f i l l e d with the rendered f a t of domestic pigs (kong togol), and t h i s i s one of the f i r s t r i t u a l secrets that the boys are introduced to. This grease w i l l form part of the base for t h e i r body and face paint, and the use of pig grease for t h i s and the knowledge of i t s nature and source i s extremely amem—the boys are t o l d that they w i l l be k i l l e d and t h e i r bodies thrown i n a stream i f they reveal t h i s to women or u n i n i t i a t e d c h i l d r e n , who must never know of t h i s . The grease comes from the b e l l y f a t of a pig, and the means by which i t i s rendered are explained. Immediately afterwards the boys are t o l d to stand up and t h e i r Mothers cover them from head to toe with the grease, singing a l l the while, and to the grease they add powdered red ochre (bagan, 'earth') u n t i l a l l the boys are painted with a glowing red sheen. Hanging from the r a f t e r s of the yolam are also a number of ropes made from vine. Instead of being allowed to s i t once more, the boys' Fathers t e l l them to grasp these vines f i r m l y and remain standing. Then the men begin to sing and the boys are t o l d to sing along, and to dance. This continues for some time u n t i l eventually one or more of the boys grows t i r e d and begins to s i t down once more. The minute a boy stops dancing, however, or even looses his grip on the vine, one of the Fathers w i l l take a sheaf of wild pandanus (sel) leaves and thrust i t into the f i r e burning i n the nearest hearth. Thus armed with a firebrand, he w i l l beat the boy with f i r e and t e l l him that he must grasp the vine once more and continue to dance. Presently huge f i r e s are made i n the hearths while the boys continue to dance, and they are t o l d that they must dance and dance the night through u n t i l dawn while the f i r e s are stoked and kept raging. This i s a night of intense discomfort and exhaustion, and the boys soon f e e l the e f f e c t s of tabu on water as the sweat r o l l s o ff t h e i r bodies. The heat from the f i r e s i s severe, and the i n i t i a t o r s themselves r e t i r e to 349 the edges of the f l o o r along the outside walls to get as f a r from the heat as possible, only r i s i n g to thrash with firebrands those who show signs of l e t t i n g up. The boys soon t i r e and t h e i r feet grow leaden, and now they must grasp the vines f i r m l y simply to keep from f a l l i n g to the f l o o r . Despite t h i s , they are kept dancing, even i f the dance becomes l i t t l e more than s h u f f l i n g i n place. When t h e i r s p i r i t s f l a g the Mothers w i l l attempt to cheer them by t e l l i n g weng doo. Whatever happens, the boys may not be allowed to f a l l asleep, for should they do so they w i l l become poor hunters of marsupials by moonlight and would meet an early death. This continues u n t i l dawn. Sometime during the night the Mothers w i l l begin singing once again, but t h i s time the songs they sing are d i f f e r e n t , f o r they sing of the journeys of Afek and her coming to Telefolmin. The songs themselves are c r y p t i c , c o n s i s t i n g mainly of a l l u s i o n s to the various places where Afek passed. This i s the boys' f i r s t i n t roduction to the weng amem of Afek sang, the sacred speech of the t a l e s of Afek. The boys, who i n any event are barely conscious, are t o l d to l i s t e n to what they are t o l d but not to think (aget fukunin) about what they are t o l d — t h e weng amem should simply be taken i n and become part of t h e i r f l e s h (dam, a word also used to mean 'truth') and t h e i r bones (kun, also meaning 'strength'). They are also s t e r n l y warned against speaking of such things, for t h i s i s amem—should they do so, they w i l l be k i l l e d by t h e i r own fathers and brothers and die unmourned. So i t i s that boys are given t h e i r f i r s t encounter with the esoteric and sacred knowledge of weng amem. Few men remember much of the d e t a i l s of the content of the Afek sang t o l d them i n the dagasal ban, but the force of the encounter i s s t i l l r e c a l l e d a f t e r many years. A f t e r t h i s time older men may take them aside and from time to time t e l l them more of such matters, for i f they do not yet understand, they w i l l at l e a s t have heard, Just before dawn the i n i t i a t o r s begin a new song, repeating over and over again "kwii-n buson, daan buson," "greens at evening, greens at dawn," a 350 phrase which remains c r y p t i c but which the boys also sing. The dancing ordeal now comes to a close, and at dawn the weary boys are allowed to r e s t , but not yet to sleep. Some of the Mothers now go to the unangam i n which the younger boys and t h e i r Mothers remained. Their night was spent i n occasional weng doo, general conversation, and s l e e p — a stark contrast with the experience of the older boys. These younger ones are now summoned with t h e i r Mothers to the yolam. There i s no gauntlet to run and they pass through the fence without incident. As with t h e i r seniors, they l i n e up i n rough order of s i z e and age and enter the yolam door a f t e r having been struck with cucumbers. When they come insi d e they take t h e i r place at e i t h e r the Arrow hearth or the Taro hearth with the others, and they are also t o l d about Arrow side and Taro side. Any questions they make about the night's a c t i v i t i e s i n the yolam are turned aside or simply answered by saying "we danced and sang, that's a l l . " The older boys are forbidden to t e l l them anything of the previous night, which the l i t t l e ones w i l l learn themselves i n the next dagasal ban. The Mothers t e l l the new boys to stand so that they may be painted l i k e t h e i r elder brothers, and the pig grease i s explained to them with the same warning as they too are covered with the f a t and ochre. Then they s i t down with the r e s t once more. Now the time has come for the presentation of the dagasal themselves. Dagasal are s p e c i a l netbags given to boys when they pass through the dagasal ban, and are the d i s t i n c t i v e emblems of those who have begun the journey to manhood. Sometime before the dagasal ban takes place a boy's father w i l l set aside a p a r t i c u l a r l y f i n e netbag that h i s wife makes—this w i l l be t h e i r son's dagasal. Then the father w i l l q u i e t l y go off to hunt a h o r n b i l l to procure i t s feathers, or else he w i l l obtain them from a man who already has some. The netbag w i l l be kept hidden, perhaps i n a friend's house, and he w i l l work the q u i l l s of the black h o r n b i l l feathers into the bag u n t i l i t i s covered on one side with row a f t e r row of the feathers, 351 resembling the arrangement of a wing or a t a i l . This w i l l be h i s son's dagasaI. On the dawn of the day following the boys' dancing ordeal each of th e i r fathers w i l l approach the yolam with t h e i r dagasal and hand them over to the Fathers of the i n i t i a t i o n , the aalabal. The Fathers take them insi d e and hand them over to the Mothers, the ogeenal. Taking these, the Mothers then take the halved cucumbers with which each boy has been s t r u c k — t h e s e have been c a r e f u l l y set aside, and the dagasal and the cucumbers are matched for each boy. The Mothers take the cucumbers and place them i n s i d e each bag, and to these' they add small bamboo tubes of rendered pig f a t stopped with aromatic leaves. These are to be kept concealed i n t h e i r dagasal, whose feathers s h i e l d the bag's contents from view. Once again the boys are reminded that t h i s i s a l l highly secret and amem—women and c h i l d r e n must never learn of the contents of the bags. The Mothers then hand over each dagasal to i t s proper r e c i p i e n t . They are instruct e d that the cucumber must remain i n the bag and be allowed to rot, while the pig grease w i l l be used from time to time to renew t h e i r body paint. When a l l of the dagasal have been d i s t r i b u t e d the boys s l i n g them over their'backs while t h e i r Mothers adorn them with crowns of red parrot (dufaal) feathers and headbands of white bonang (bridewealth cowries) while the rest of the men s i m i l a r l y decorate themselves. Thus resplendent i n red, black, and white the men and boys l i n e up i n double f i l e and prepare to e x i t from the yolam. They emerge into the yolabiip, and beyond i n the v i l l a g e plaza the women and ch i l d r e n wait. The l i n e s are t i d i e d up and then the men and boys sing the tandet once more and f i l e out into the plaza as they dance past each of the houses. As they pass, the women exclaim t h e i r admiration for these b e a u t i f u l lads and pretend not to recognize t h e i r own sons, singing impromptu songs of t h e i r own, remarking how large t h e i r sons have grown or how b e a u t i f u l the ' h o r n b i l l s ' (kabeel) are. As the men complete the c i r c u i t 352 of the v i l l a g e they take some bananas from t h e i r own netbags, These are suum usii , a short and sweet sugar banana which i s forbidden to women. As soon as the c i r c u i t i s completed, the men take up t h e i r usii and p e l t the boys' mothers with them, d r i v i n g them away from t h e i r sons. As the women r e t i r e i n disarray, the men and boys f i l e up once again and dance up to the kabeelam, where a l l enter. (If there i s no kabeelam i n the v i l l a g e , they w i l l go to a tiimam, a house b u i l t s p e c i a l l y for t h i s purpose). Once i n the kabeelam the boys are allo c a t e d to th e i r proper areas, again i n terms of Taro or Arrow, and h e r e — a t least—r'.they are .allowed to sleep. While they sleep t h e i r Mothers remain i n the house with them while the Fathers go outside to f i n d food for them. Outside the fence many of the boys' mothers w i l l have gathered with taro and other food for t h e i r sons, and t h i s they hand over to the Fathers. In the meantime, some of the other Fathers w i l l have gone o f f to nearby gardens to cut sugar cane for the boys and the i n i t i a t o r s , f or water i s s t i l l forbidden and th i s w i l l be t h e i r only source of moisture u n t i l the ban on water i s l i f t e d . The Fathers return to the kabeelam with t h i s food, which they then hand over to the waiting Mothers. The Mothers take t h i s food into the kabeelam where they remain with the boys while the Fathers r e t i r e to the yolam where they eat and rest themselves. When the boys begin to s t i r and waken i n the kabeelam the Mothers cook and d i s t r i b u t e food to them and comfort them, saying that what l i e s ahead w i l l now be easy for them. They perform weng doo and i n s t r u c t the boys i n food tabus that they must now observe, such as the p r o h i b i t i o n on yook and other red bi r d s , the tabu on eating o i l pandanus with t h e i r fathers, and the inj u n c t i o n not to eat the bones of domestic pigs (kong kun). They are also t o l d that from.now on they may enter the yolabiip and the kabeelam whenever they wish and may also re-enter the yolam i n the company of senior men, though i t i s not yet safe for them to sleep there. The remainder of the day and the evening are spent lounging and eating together i n the house. 353 Before dawn of the following day the Mothers awaken the boys and t e l l them the secret t a l e of Afek and her younger brother, how she taught him to make himself b e a u t i f u l and how she gave him the yolam for h i s own. They then i n s t r u c t the boys i n the p r a c t i c e of a r i s i n g before dawn and washing themselves with dew (here c a l l e d biningok, 'star' or ' f i r e f l y ' ) so that they may greet the sun clean and gleaming, j u s t as Afek's younger brother had done. They are also t o l d how to renew t h e i r paint with the p i g grease i n t h e i r dagasal, and t h i s too i s how Afek's younger brother made himself b e a u t i f u l . Once again, the boys are warned against revealing any of t h i s to the u n i n i t i a t e d , f o r t h i s i s amem, secret and sacred. The boys are then taken outside where they wash and anoint themselves as instructed. This i s done a l i t t l e way o f f into the bush, i n an area near the yolabiip where the women have been warned to keep away. Here each boy has a small shelter or house, the miilam. They are brought here, where the Fathers await them. After the dew-washing and anointing with grease each boy i s made to l i e down on the ground, where the miilam shelters t h e i r face. Here they must l i e s i l e n t l y and without s t i r r i n g under the watchful eyes of the Fathers, who beat them and threaten to k i l l them i f they speak or move. Here again many of the boys are frightened, but they are reassured and there are no further beatings unless they disobey. The boys remain under their- i n d i v i d u a l miilam through the night with t h e i r bodies p a r t i a l l y exposed to the elements. I f they are lucky, i t w i l l r a i n during the night, and though the cold and wet are uncomfortable, t h i s i s to the good f o r they must remain quiet and s i l e n t under t h e i r miilam u n t i l most of t h e i r body paint has been washed away. The following dawn the boys get up once again to r e l i e v e themselves and to wash with dew and cover themselves once again with pig f a t . When t h e i r body paint has been washed away by the r a i n the boys are t o l d they are now permitted to return to the v i l l a g e and to t h e i r mothers, where they may sleep i n dwelling houses once again. From t h i s point on they may drink water and may go about t h e i r l i v e s normally except that they must avoid gardens u n t i l t h e i r face paint (protected by the miilam) has worn completely away. Once again they are cautioned against t e l l i n g anything of what has taken place, nor should they converse about i t among themselves. They are enjoined to continue to wash themselves with dew before dawn each day and to continue to anoint themselves with p i g grease from t h e i r dagasal i f they wish to grow hardy and strong. They should not spend too much time sleeping by the f i r e s i d e i n t h e i r house l e s t they become lazy and sluggish. Their Mothers w i l l continue to look a f t e r them and i f a boy i s p a r t i c u l a r l y small they may take him into the yolam once again to renew his face paint u n t i l he i s judged to have grown s u f f i c i e n t l y . This i s the conclusion of the dagasal ban, and the boys w i l l return to t h e i r f a m i l i e s . Shortly afterward each boy's Mother w i l l k i l l a pig and w i l l give i t to the boy who was h i s ' c h i l d ' during the i n i t i a t i o n . The l a t t e r does not eat t h i s , but instead d i s t r i b u t e s i t to each of h i s f r i e n d s . Some time a f t e r t h i s , the boy's father w i l l make a small feast of o i l pandanus for the men who acted as h i s son's Mothers and i n t h i s way compensates them and thanks them for looking a f t e r h i s son for him., i v . ( b ) . Om Ban The next r i t e of the i n i t i a t i o n sequence i s the om ban, the sago i n i t i a t i o n . Sago (om) i s a hot country food not found i n Telefolmin, and i n preparation for the om ban men must make an expedition to e i t h e r the lower l y i n g regions of the Sepik (Ok Tekin) downstream from T e l e f o l country proper, or they must venture into the deep v a l l e y of the Strickland (Ok Om) to the northeast. Here they f e l l wild sago palms and extract the starch from the p i t h . in. preparation for the om ban. 355 Like the dagasal ban, the om ban may be held i n any v i l l a g e independently or other v i l l a g e s . In contrast to the dagasal ban, the om ban i s a r e l a t i v e l y simple r i t e , l a s t i n g only one afternoon and one evening. There i s no public phase to the om ban, and i t may take place q u i e t l y without the knowledge of any but the p a r t i c i p a n t s . In the afternoon of the day on which the om ban i s to be performed the men who have agreed to be the Mothers for the boys w i l l go off separately and summon each of t h e i r charges to the kabeelam or to the yolam i f a kabeelam i s lacking. As each boy enters the house he i s struck by Fathers who stand waiting on eith e r side of the doorway. Once again tagaa, stinging n e t t l e s , are used; t h i s time, however, the beating i s not severe and i s almost perfunctory. As soon as t h i s has taken place the boys s i t down at the appropriate hearth, where they j o i n others who have s i m i l a r l y been brought i n . At t h i s point the boys are once again f e a r f u l and apprehensive, r e c a l l i n g the ordeals of the dagasal ban. Once again water i s prohibited to the ban kasel, and once again the Mothers inaugurate things by performing weng doo. Presently sunset begins to f a l l and the i n i t i a t o r s — b o t h Mothers and Fathers l i n e up i n singl e f i l e , forming a l i n e e n c i r c l i n g the two hearths of the house. The boys are then t o l d to crawl the length of t h i s l i n e underneath the spread legs of t h e i r i n i t i a t o r s . This suggests an obvious b i r t h symbolism, but Telefolmin explain t h i s (as do Baktaman i n a s i m i l a r r i t e — s e e Barth 1975:66) as fastening or binding the sinik ( ' s p i r i t ' ) of the boys. When a l l have completed the c i r c u i t they s i t once again at the appropriate hearths. The i n i t i a t o r s , both Mothers and Fathers, then j o i n them a f t e r having produced bundles wrapped i n leaves. These, the boys are t o l d , are cakes of a p a r t i c u l a r l y f i n e grated taro (iman ninii), and they a l l eat them together. When they have eaten, the men explain that t h i s i s not taro at a l l , but that i t i s sago (om). This i s followed by a b r i e f n arration of weng amem, the s t o r i e s of how Afek sent sago away from Telefolmin, and t h i s i s 356 followed by a s i m i l a r narration of how Afek sent the wild animals away from T e l e f o l i p . The men then explain to the boys a number of tabus they must now observe, most of which w i l l be i n force u n t i l a f t e r the conclusion of the tap ban: they must not eat the h a i r l e s s t a i l s or paws ('hands'—s a g a l ) of any marsupials (nuk), nor the feet (also 'hands') of b i r d s ; they may not eat the l i v e r (iin) of birds or pigs; they may not eat suum adtab ('banana f a t h e r ' ) , waan aalab ('tuber f a t h e r ' — a yam), kwet tenep (a red sugar cane), or kwet ugit (an extremely succulent green sugar cane, ?'sugar female'). Should they break any of these tabus t h e i r growth would be impaired and they would remain small c h i l d r e n . A f t e r t h i s the men and boys s i t together chatting q u i e t l y . The men point out, once again, some vines hanging from the r a f t e r s of the house. At t h i s the boys are once more apprehensive, but t h e i r Mothers t e l l them not to worry. These vines are a l l bound together to form one long rope circumscribing the house, with numerous ends dangling. The men u n c o i l these and draw them down to where the boys remain s i t t i n g . Those boys who are wearing penis gourds are t o l d to remove them. When a l l the boys are thus naked, the men take one of the ends of the vines and t i e i t f i r m l y around the penis of each of the boys. Thus secured to the house, the boys are t o l d to go to sleep. Nothing further ensues u n t i l the next morning. Then the vines are untied, and the boys are given the usual warnings and exhortations about the amem character of a l l that has taken place. They are then t o l d that they may drink water and go. The ban i s thus concluded as q u i e t l y as i t began. i v . ( c ) . Tlalalep Ban The om ban may'take place as soon- as a month or as l a t e as a couple of years a f t e r the completion of the dagasal ban. After the om ban has been completed, the stage i s set for the next ban of the sequence, the tlalalep ban. As with the dagasal and om bans, the tlalalep ban may be held by any 357 v i l l a g e on i t s own, though men w i l l often prefer to send t h e i r sons to the tlalalep at T e l e f o l i p i f i t s timing i s convenient. The T e l e f o l i p tlalalep ban i s i n p r i n c i p l e no d i f f e r e n t from that of any other v i l l a g e , save for the fac t that i t i s performed i n the ravine of a small t r i b u t a r y of the Ok I f i , c a l l e d Ok T l a l a l e p , and i t i s from t h i s stream that the r i t e takes i t s name. The timing of the tlalalep i s somewhat v a r i a b l e , but men f e e l that i t should not take place too long a f t e r the completion of the om ban. The tlalalep ban i s sometimes c a l l e d the ifet ban, from ifet, the name for switches used to thrash the i n i t i a n d s . This i s appropriate, f o r the chief purpose of the tlalalep ban resides i n the act of thrashing the youths, and t h i s i s deemed e s s e n t i a l to t h e i r growth and well-being. The ban I t s e l f i s quite simple, and l a s t s only for the duration of a single day. The boys are taken q u i e t l y from the v i l l a g e by t h e i r Mothers to a prearranged spot i n the bush where women have been warned to stay away. When they a r r i v e they are led into a c l e a r i n g , where t h e i r Mothers have to l d them good food awaits them. Here they s i t down and see leaf bundles i n heaps, and they are t o l d to wait for others who w i l l presently j o i n them. With a shout the Fathers rush from the surrounding undergrowth and uncover the p i l e s of banana leaves under which there i s no food, but instead ifet, switches made from the branches of the igin tree. The igin i s the tree from which men make the bark dishes i n which red o i l pandanus i s prepared, but i t i s also the tree from which at kom, the war s h i e l d s , are made. At t h i s some of the boys may attempt to b o l t , but there are yet other Fathers waiting i n the bush and along the track to intercept them. The Fathers, decorated and r a i s i n g t h e i r switches : threateningly, form into two l i n e s , and the Mothers gather the boys together at one end and explain to them that they must run the gauntlet. Unlike the dagasal ban, however, they must do t h i s unassisted and unsheltered by t h e i r Mothers. They are t o l d not to turn aside or to stumble or to slow down, l e s t 358 the r a i n of blows f a l l h eavily upon them. Then, one by one, they are sent to run between the two l i n e s , being pushed into the middle i f necessary. When a l l have passed through the l i n e s the men and the boys gather together and s i t once more. Sometimes a man w i l l provide some cooked pork, which they w i l l a l l eat together, though t h i s i s not s t r i c t l y speaking necessary. Many of the boys are shaken, and some cry with pain. The Mothers take some cut cucumbers or r i p e suum kalom bananas from t h e i r netbags and use the j u i c e s of these to soothe the boys' cuts and bruises. Many of the men f e e l sympathy f or the boys and t h e i r pain, but the thrashing i s necessary. Should a boy f a i l to go through t h i s he may well be l o s t i n warfare, being too frightened of pain to break through an ambushing l i n e of enemy warriors. The experience i s said to harden and strengthen the boys, and i t i s also said to promote t h e i r growth. Up u n t i l t h i s time the boys have spent much of t h e i r time i n the company of t h e i r mothers, and men say that t h i s makes t h e i r skin heavy so that the boys remain small. When they are beaten, however, t h i s i s said to open and loosen t h e i r skin so that i t does not c l i n g too f i r m l y to th e i r bodies—when t h e i r skin i s thus loosened there i s room for new growth, an observation v e r i f i e d by the swelling that usually accompanies such beatings. As the men and the boys s i t and t a l k afterwards, the men t e l l them the. weng amem about Afek and how the enmity between Telefolmin and Ti f a l m i n came about. The men generally review the various rules and tabus that must be observed and explain to the boys that they may now go to the yolam unaccompanied i f they wish, and that they are also welcome to sleep there. Af t e r the completion of the tlalalep ban the boys are also allowed to eat a va r i e t y of red o i l pandanus known as em ayaap ('enemy pandanus', ayaap being a term for the ghosts of enemy warriors), and they are taught i t s secret name, em kool • Up u n t i l t h i s time boys were only permitted to eat em ayaap i f they were given a l i g h t spanking by a man present (other than t h e i r father; 359 ayaap i s completely forbidden to females). When n i g h t f a l l draws near the men and the boys return to the v i l l a g e a f t e r they have once more been reminded that everything that has happened i s amem, i v . ( d ) . Mafuum Ban Following the conclusion of the tlalalep ban there i s a hiatus of some years before any further i n i t i a t i o n s take place. During t h i s time the boys w i l l have become youths and w i l l then have been given piecemeal and informal teaching of more weng amem, tales of Afek. This i s a period of growing r e s p o n s i b i l i t y and maturity, and most of the youths w i l l be w e l l -established gardeners and hunters i n t h e i r own r i g h t . They w i l l spend much of t h e i r time i n the company of the men of t h e i r yolam and w i l l have been given'at l e a s t rudimentary introduction to some of the usong o f i t h e i r own sphere, whether Taro or Arrow. A number- of them w i l l begin to think of marriage, and some w i l l already have done so by the time they are ready for the next i n i t i a t i o n . This i s the mafuum ban. Of a l l the i n i t i a t i o n bans, the mafuum ban i s perhaps the most spectacular. Unlike those I have discussed so f a r , the mafuum cannot be held by j u s t any v i l l a g e , nor may i t be held by a sing l e v i l l a g e on i t s own. For those Telefolmin who l i v e i n Eliptaman the mafuum may be held either at Afogavip or Ubtemtigin. For the Telefolmin of Ifitaman, and indeed f o r the majority of Telefolmin (whether i n Eliptaman or Ifitaman) and many of the neighbouring Ulapmin and Fegolmin as w e l l , the only proper s i t e f o r the mafuum ban i s T e l e f o l i p . I t was here that the mafuum ban originated, and t h i s i s s t i l l the only place where men from many d i f f e r e n t areas come for the mafuum' even some of the Falamin, enemies of the Telefolmin, would come to T e l e f o l i p to do the mafuum, and at such times they could come without fear of attack, for during the mafuum and other major bans peace must p r e v a i l among the p a r t i c i p a n t s . 360 The mafuum ban i s a major undertaking requiring the p a r t i c i p a t i o n of hundreds of men from a number of d i f f e r e n t v i l l a g e s , and i t i s accordingly held more infrequently than any of the bans so far discussed. Though such matters are hard to gauge i n the absence of calendars, i t seems that the mafuum i s held roughly once a decade or so. This means, among other things, that there i s a r e l a t i v e l y large age span among the youths to be i n i t i a t e d , and some of the i n i t i a n d s may be i n t h e i r mid-teens while others may already be married men i n t h e i r mid-twenties. Further, the mafuum i s one of the bans i n which men may p a r t i c i p a t e as i n i t i a n d s more than once. whatever t h e i r age, there are only two requirements for entry into the mafuum: a novice must have completed the dagasal, om, and tlalalep bans, and he must have the beginnings, at l e a s t , of a beard. Should a youth enter the mafuum before the appearance of f a c i a l h a i r , i t i s feared that his growth would be stunted. Further, the youths who are to be i n i t i a t e d into the mafuum should have a long growth of head h a i r , for t h i s i s important i n the construction of the mafuum (or sel, a f t e r the wild pandanus used i n i t s construction) headdress. When the men of T e l e f o l i p have decided that a mafuum ban i s to be held they send word out to a l l the outlying v i l l a g e s some months i n advance to ready themselves. I t w i l l be decided which men w i l l act as Mothers or Fathers for each v i l l a g e ' s youths, and the fathers of boys who w i l l go to the i n i t i a t i o n w i l l look to i t that there w i l l be pigs a v a i l a b l e for the feast which i s to accompany the ban. On the day before the assembly of men and youths at T e l e f o l i p , each v i l l a g e w i l l have a small feast of pork i n the yolam for those who are about to go to the ban. On the following day a l l decorate themselves with feathers and take up t h e i r shields and set o f f for T e l e f o l i p . Contingents from each v i l l a g e t r a v e l separately, and as each draws within a mile or two of the v i l l a g e they form up i n s i n g l e f i l e , led by t h e i r s h ields, and break into vigorous dancing, twanging t h e i r bowstrings and t w i r l i n g t h e i r f l a s h i n g broad-bladed arrows i n the sunlight, a l t e r n a t i n g the long drawn-out 361 tones of men's songs (fuup) with antiphonal c r i e s (yuul) . In a melee of song and dancing each contingent makes i t s way toward T e l e f o l i p i n sharp cadence, the sound converging on the v i l l a g e from d i f f e r e n t quarters i n the bush and r i s i n g i n p i t c h as each party approaches. Flashing t h e i r carved and painted shields from side to side each contingent enters at the pace of a quick march, does a c i r c u i t of the v i l l a g e plaza i n T e l e f o l i p and then f i l e s through the fence of the mother house where the yolabiip i s buzzing with befeathered men and youths. Indeed, so many are present that i t i s necessary for some of the old men of T e l e f o l i p to say secret words (weng amem) to cause the yolabiip to open and spread so that there w i l l be enough room for them a l l : the men are as numerous as the leaves on trees and shine l i k e flowers or s t a r s . The ban has begun. From now u n t i l the next fourteen days have passed i t w i l l be forbidden f or the p a r t i c i p a n t s to drink water. The men who have c a r r i e d the shields to T e l e f o l i p take them up into the amogeen, whose door w i l l remain unboarded for the duration of the ban. Having done t h i s , they return to j o i n the others down below i n the yolabiip. In the meantime, a c a r e f u l count w i l l have been made of a l l the youths to be i n i t i a t e d , and when t h i s has been done the appropriate number of cucumbers w i l l have been gathered by the i n i t i a t o r s from nearby gardens. When these men return with the cucumbers a l l the ban kasel assemble i n front of the T e l e f o l i p kabeelam, known as the Kuyapkan, "where they k i l l e d him"—so named for the t a l e about a t a l l stranger who once entered there during a ban and was k i l l e d . When a l l have gathered, the Fathers surround the youths before the door of the Kuyapkan while a l l of the Mothers save for two men go i n s i d e . These two remain on either side of the doorway with netbags f u l l of halved cucumbers and as each youth enters the house he i s struck by them with these over the heart, as i n the dagasal ban. Once i n s i d e the youths and t h e i r Mothers s i t at the appropriate hearths, jammed t i g h t l y against one another as the house i s packed. From t h i s point on 362 only the i n i t i a n d s themselves and t h e i r Mothers may enter the house u n t i l the conclusion of the r i t e , and the Fathers remain outside and sleep e i t h e r i n the yolam or the katibam. Inside the Kuyapkan the Mothers point out l i g h t coloured bundles of leaves tucked away i n the r a f t e r s and p i l e d on the drying racks over the f i r e p l a c e s . These are sheafs of the leaves of wild pandanus, sel, and w i l l form the basic material for the construction of the mafuum (or sel) headdress i t s e l f . The men explain that these must be thoroughly dried i n the f i r e and then smoked once more i n the r a f t e r s before the headdresses can be constructed, and they take down bundles of the leaves and d i s t r i b u t e them to the boys present. As soon as everybody i s equipped with a bundle the men demonstrate how the leaves are to be dried and they a l l set about t h e i r work. This process continues over the next s i x days and i s pretty much uneventful. The Mothers l i g h t e n the tedium with weng doo and jokes. In the meantime, the Fathers c o l l e c t food from the women of the v i l l a g e and occasionally from mothers who w i l l have come to T e l e f o l i p with food for t h e i r sons. The Fathers explain to the women that t h e i r brothers and sons may not take water, so they are es p e c i a l l y anxious to be given sweet bananas and succulent v a r i e t i e s of sugar cane to ease the boys' parched throats. This, however, i s a hoax, for such foods are appropriated by the Fathers for themselves (they too are under a water r e s t r i c t i o n ) — t h e y hand on only the cooked taro given to them. This i s passed through the doorway of the Kuyapkan to the Mothers i n s i d e , who i n turn d i s t r i b u t e i t to the i n i t i a n d s . A l l during t h i s period the p a r t i c i p a n t s must r e f r a i n from drinking water, and the novices are not even permitted sugar cane or moisture-laden foods and many lose t h e i r appetite for taro, which begins to s t i c k i n t h e i r throats. The Mothers must observe these same r e s t r i c t i o n s while ins i d e the Kuyapkan, though they may have sugar cane or chew sections of banana s t a l k f o r moisture i f they leave the house to do so. 363 At the end of the seventh day the leaves have been s u f f i c i e n t l y dried, and the Mothers i n s t r u c t the boys i n tearing the leaves into long slender s t r i p s f o r use l a t e r on. Just before dawn on the eighth day the men q u i e t l y take the boys out of the Kuyapkan, taking the pandanus s t r i p s with them. They e x i t the v i l l a g e v i a the men's path. They pass along here i n the darkness when suddenly the Fathers set upon them from both sides with switches. The s t a r t l e d boys are urged to run as f a s t as they can to a r i s e i n the path beyond the ambushing Fathers, and they manage to do so without sustaining many blows. When they a l l reach t h i s low r i s e the Fathers disappear into the forest as quickly as they emerged, and the boys are t o l d that the worst i s now over and that they need not be a f r a i d . From t h i s point the boys and t h e i r Mothers make for a nearby s t r e t c h of bush along the Ok I f i c a l l e d Mafuum-saanin, 'planting the mafuum1. Here each .boy i s seated i n the damp cold at the base of a wild pandanus tree and they are taught the songs of the mafuum, the mafuumdet, which they sing i n high f a l s e t t o voices. Many of the mafuumdet have an almost p l a i n t i v e q u a l i t y , and they sing of men whose wives were seduced away from them, of others who were betrayed by fr i e n d s to enemies, and of some who saved t h e i r friends through determination and bravery. Embodied i n such songs are b r i e f and almost p o e t i c a l l y condensed a l l u s i o n s to the p e r i l s of manhood. They sing one further mafuumdet i n which they evoke a sense of t h e i r own s i t u a t i o n , singing, "I s i t at the base of the wild pandanus, the cold makes me shiver, I hear something down below but I don't know what i t i s . . . " . When dawn breaks the youths are t o l d to remain where they are as the Mothers continue singing and set about t h e i r work. Squatting behind the youths they begin to make the mafuum. Working as quickly as possible and singing a l l the while, they p u l l out t u f t s of h a i r from the initiand's head, p u l l them back t i g h t l y , and begin to wrap the white pandanus s t r i p s around each t u f t i n s p i r a l fashion. The s t r i p s are wound as t i g h t l y as possible, and as one s t r i p comes to an end another i s wrapped around that u n t i l each t u f t of h a i r ends i n a th i n 364 ' t a i l ' about 30 inches or so long. As each s t r i p i s wound a t h i n bark thread i s also wound around i t to bind the leaves t i g h t l y . It takes considerable time to complete the process and the constant tugging, twisting, and p u l l i n g of the hair i s quite p a i n f u l . S t i l l , the youths are expected not to show th e i r pain but instead to sing i f they have d i f f i c u l t y . By early afternoon t h i s hair-binding process w i l l have been l a r g e l y completed, each youth's head sprouting an array of white rope-like lengthenings. When a l l the i n i t i a n d s ' h a i r has been bound i n t h i s manner the men proceed to the next stage i n constructing the headdress. One t u f t of ha i r at the front w i l l be worked, and along with the s t r i p s of wild pandanus a red feather of the biseng (King Bird of Paradise) w i l l also be worked i n among the white pandanus s t r i p i n such a way that only a small portion of i t remains v i s i b l e . Next, the i n d i v i d u a l cords of the headdress w i l l be divided into two sections: one section comprises the upper and forwardmost portion, and t h i s i s termed the imdk (Male or Husband); the cords of the lower and hindmost portion are gathered together i n another bundle c a l l e d the igit (Female). The Female se c t i o n i s la r g e r , comprising many more strands than the Male portion, and a l l of t h i s i s gathered together and bound with bark cord u n t i l i t forms a nearly c o n i c a l appendage hanging from the rear of the headdress which i s now emerging. Around t h i s a small s t r i p of bark c l o t h w i l l be wrapped, and t h i s too w i l l be bound to the bundle with cord made of bark f i b r e . The Female portion thus completed, the strands of the Male section are now gathered together and pulled back. These are bound to form a somewhat smaller bundle, and the strands are formed around a blade-shaped wooden piece, perhaps eight inches or so i n length. Before the f i n a l strands are t i e d i n place the Mothers take two dried marsupial t e s t i c l e s and place them i n the middle of the bundle, a f t e r which a l l i s securely t i e d . The mafuum headdress i s now nearly completed with i t s twin v e r t i c a l l y arranged "pony t a i l s " , and a l l that remains at t h i s stage i s the true mafuum saanin s i g n a l l e d by the renewed singing of 365 of mafuumdet by a l l present: amid the singing the men 'plant' a sing l e white t a i l f e a t h e r of the kabeel, the h o r n b i l l , i n the Male portion of the mafuum. In the afternoon the youths and t h e i r Mothers return once more to the Kuyapkan, where they pass the.evening singing mafuumdet. On the following morning they enter the ninth day of the r i t e , and the youths are once again led out of the Kuyapkan v i a the men's path. The Mothers lead them up to the h i l l c a l l e d I l i n t i g i n , north of T e l e f o l i p . There they are brought through a st r e t c h of bush and into a c l e a r i n g which has been 'fenced' with branches of the igin tree. The i n i t i a n d s are t o l d to seat themselves i n two long facing rows, and t h e i r Mothers s i t behind them. Once again some of the youths become apprehensive, and sometimes a few of them w i l l t r y to escape from the encl o s u r e — b u t to no a v a i l , for concealed i n the surrounding bush are the Fathers, the men who w i l l k i l l these boys. Presently the youths hear a tumult and hubbub beyond the enclosure, and i n burst the Fathers, bearing bulging, metbags f u l l of the stinging n e t t l e c a l l e d "here I am!"—k a l b i o l Many of the boys struggle but t h e i r Mothers attempt to reassure them when, at a s i g n a l , they reach around the youths from behind and pin them i n p o s i t i o n on the ground. There i s no place to run, no means of escape. The Fathers are a l l shouting and begin to form a long l i n e with t h e i r legs i n t e r t w i n e d — a sort of "chorus l i n e " — a n d with a kicking s h u f f l e step s t a r t moving down the l i n e s of boys. As they enter, they sing i n accelerating p i t c h the chant "kwiin mamamamamaa, kwiin mamamamamaa, abiip • fogop, abiip fogop, kwiin mamamamamaa, abiip fogop . . .". This i s the chant men sing when they k i l l wild pigs and bring them into the yolam, and was also chanted when they k i l l e d enemies i n warfare. At each youth the leader of the l i n e w i l l dance i n place, thrashing h i s forehead and r i g h t forearm (held i n p o s i t i o n by the Mothers, who prevent the boys from turning aside) repeatedly with f o r c e f u l blows, and a f t e r a few choruses he w i l l move on to the next youth while the man behind him continues to thrash the previous lad i n time to 366 the chant. In t h i s way each boy i s beaten with n e t t l e s several times i n succession by a l l of the Fathers; when the l i n e of dancing and chanting i n i t i a t o r s has completed the c i r c u i t they continue on again from the beginning u n t i l a l l of t h e i r n e t t l e s have been pulverized on the skin of the i n i t i a n d s . On and on. i t goes, and some of the boys f a i n t from fear and pain, but they are beaten l i k e a l l the others, whether conscious or not. Eventually the chanting and the beating subsides, and the Fathers unsling t h e i r n e t t l e bags and set them aside. Others bring stoppered bamboo tubes and small bundles of leaf packets and place them i n the centre where the Fathers stand. These are the ingredients f o r the face and body paint that the i n i t i a n d s w i l l wear. Among other things, such paint w i l l not only make the youths b e a u t i f u l — i t w i l l also conceal the evidence of the beatings from the mothers and s i s t e r s of the i n i t i a n d s when they see them once more. The face paint i s made up of a number of d i f f e r e n t ingredients, and the Fathers i d e n t i f y these for the youths. Most of the bamboo tubes contain the rendered f a t of pigs, to which they were introduced i n the dagasal ban. Some of the packets contain the sap of trees: siZiZ dan i s used f o r the paint covering the face of the i n i t i a n d s , while uyam dan i s for the paint which w i l l cover the lower portion of t h e i r body and t h e i r legs. Here we should note that sap, dan, i s thought of as tree blood and the word also denotes the c l e a r f l u i d that human bodies exude around cuts and sores. In other containers are quan t i t i e s of tin, beeswax, the same as i s used to fasten the sogaalim skin membranes that form drumheads. Here also are large p i l e s of a v a r i e t y of red and black sugar cane c a l l e d kwet malandom, and some of the bundles contain the eggs of a bush fowl, the kwaaZeng. F i n a l l y , .the i n i t i a n d s are t o l d about the most important ingredient of a l l , the red ochre that gives i t s colour to the paint. Ochre i s known generally by the term bagan, which simply means 'earth' or ' s o i l ' . But now they are t o l d that t h i s i s n ' t simply bagan, which i n the sense of 'earth' may be found anywhere—it i s bagan isak, 'earth blood' which 367 i s only to be found i n a few places, notably i n a spot c a l l e d S a a f o l t i g i n near Ulapmin. This name, however, i s amem and should not be spoken i n the hearing of women and c h i l d r e n . This bagan isak.Is from Afek h e r s e l f , and they are t o l d i t s even more secret name, tobaal (cf. tobaa, red cordyline; iman tobaal, a red v a r i e t y of t a r o ) . After t h i s explanation the men begin to apply the paint mixture to the swollen and puffy skin Of the i n i t i a n d s . F i r s t the kwaaleng eggs are broken over t h e i r heads, and t h i s i s worked into t h e i r foreheads and the Male portion of the mafuum. After t h i s t h e i r skin i s coated with the appropriate tree sap. Then the beeswax, j u i c e of the kwet malandon, pig's f a t and a po r t i o n of the ochre are mixed i n bamboo tubes and t h i s i s applied to the whole of t h e i r bodies and to the Male portion of the mafuum. When t h i s has been done, powdered ochre i s then applied over the e n t i r e surface, taking care once more to work i t into the Male of the mafuum. The painting now completed, the e n t i r e party returns once more to T e l e f o l i p . Some of the youths are so badly swollen that t h e i r eyes are unable to open, and these i n i t i a n d s are led back by t h e i r Mothers who take t h e i r hands and warn them of obstacles i n t h e i r path. On the way back the Fathers take up t h e i r stone adzes and make as i f to s t r i k e the youths and s p l i t open t h e i r heads, but t h i s i s only a f e i n t and there i s no more beating. When they a r r i v e i n T e l e f o l i p , the party goes to the plaza where many women are gathered and, as i n the dagasal ban, they wonder who these large and b e a u t i f u l men are and cannot i d e n t i f y t h e i r kinsmen. At the same time, the Mothers sing a song of r e j o i c i n g that alludes to the ripening of f r u i t i n the forest and celebrates the wild foods that have now matured and are ready for the picking. Then, three times the i n i t i a n d s and the men approach the yolam fence singing and dancing, and twice they f a l l back: on the t h i r d e f f o r t they a l l surge forward and go into the yolabiip. The Mothers and the i n i t i a n d s then return to the 368 Kuyapkan, where they w i l l eat and sleep, and the Fathers r e t i r e to the yolam. The following day a l l rest a f t e r the ordeal of I l i n t i g i n , and the Mothers t e l l the youths the secret t a l e s of how Afek cooked an enemy at I l i n t i g i n and of a man she k i l l e d at S a a f o l t i g i n . In the afternoon the Mothers (who, i t w i l l he remembered have been permitted to chew sugar cane and sections of banana s t a l k outside the Kuyapkan) begin t a l k i n g incessantly of water and begin joking about the t h i r s t of the i n i t i a n d s . This i s done i n t e n t i o n a l l y to heighten their, discomfort. Suddenly the Fathers, who have been waiting outside, lean one a f t e r one through the doorway. In t h e i r hands they hold f u l l water gourds (oget) and they shake these over the inmates of the house u n t i l a l l have been drenched i n what men describe as something akin to r a i n i n s i d e the house. The lads have been given water, but they remain t h i r s t y , for they have been unable to drink any of i t . Then a few old men enter, carrying bulging netbags l i n e d with banana leaves. These are f u l l of cut lengths of j u i c y sugar cane, and as the old men complain about the b o y s — "I alone plant sugar; you don't help me at a l l " — t h e y unload the contents of t h e i r bags into heaps on the f l o o r , which are then d i s t r i b u t e d to the parched boys who may from now on slake t h e i r t h i r s t with sugar. At t h i s time the youths are also given large suum kalom bananas and r i p e yellow cucumbers which they must not, however, eat; these are to be kept i n t h e i r netbags and stored u n t i l l a t e r . After the t r i a l s of the previous days the youths now have a r e l a t i v e l y easy time of i t , and the remaining three days they remain i n the Kuyapkan with t h e i r Mothers, eating as they l i k e . During t h i s time there i s general conversation and weng doo accompanied by moral i n s t r u c t i o n i n weng kern. On the morning of the fourteenth and l a s t day an old man enters the Kuyapkan and sings " bogolok diip diip, misiok diip diip.., (eagle water drink drink, [secret name] eagle water drink d r i n k . . . ) . A f t e r t h i s the i n i t i a t e s 369 may now end t h e i r seclusion and are given water to drink. This marks the formal c l o s i n g of the ban i t s e l f . The new i n i t i a t e s are instructed i n c e r t a i n tabus they must observe: they may not share red o i l pandanus with t h e i r fathers u n t i l a f t e r they have made a pandanus feast f or those who i n i t i a t e d them; they must avoid o i l pandanus u n t i l t h e i r paint has worn off of i t s own accord, and t h i s may not be washed; they and the Mothers who bound t h e i r h a i r i n the mafuum must avoid taro gardens u n t i l t h e i r paint has worn o f f ; under no circumstances must they allow any of t h e i r paint to inadvertently come into contact with t h e i r fathers, f or t h i s would endanger them. These i n s t r u c t i o n s having been completed, a l l e x i t the Kuyapkan and amid drumming and singing by t h e i r seniors the new i n i t i a t e s enter the T e l e f o l i p plaza where they dance i n a s i n g l e - f i l e procession. While t h i s i s going on the other men begin shooting and singeing pigs, which the boy's fathers have brought to T e l e f o l i p for a feast. Women bring forward huge netbags of taro and other garden foods. As the youths, handsome i n t h e i r paint and headdresses, dance around the v i l l a g e plaza young women may sele c t i n i t i a t e s to whom they are attracted and follow behind them while grasping the t a i l end of t h e i r mafuum. Shortly afterwards the youths assemble once again with the men before the fence. Now the senior men t e l l the women i n angry tones to keep away, complaining that i t was the men and not the women who did the hard work of making these young men. From the back of the yolabiip the Fathers dance out i n a l i n e brandishing and making threatening gestures with switches of igin. This time, however, they do not threaten the young i n i t i a t e s , but instead d i r e c t t h e i r attentions to the women. What ensues i s a mock f i g h t i n which a l l of the men take out ri p e cucumbers and pe l t the women with them, and the youths also take out t h e i r suum kalom bananas and do likewise with them. The women f l e e screaming and laughing, and i t i s said that i f a lad c a l l s a woman's name and s t r i k e s her with one of these bananas she w i l l be smitten by him (as we say) and w i l l from that day 370 forward think of nobody else but him, even i f she i s already married. Here i t i s also said that i f a woman gets a good look at the red biseng feather tucked into the front of a young man's mafuum the r e s u l t w i l l be the same. Because of t h i s , mothers and fathers urge t h e i r daughters to avert t h e i r eyes and to run for t h e i r l i v e s when the banana and cucumber barrage begins. Soon the men have exhausted t h e i r ammunition, and gradually things return to some semblance of normalcy amid high s p i r i t s . The remainder of the day i s spent i n feasting and dancing which goes into the night and f i n i s h e s on the following dawn. The pigs' jaws from the feast w i l l be taken into the T e l e f o l i p , the s h i e l d taken down once more and the door boarded up. Exhausted but l ighthearted, each v i l l a g e ' s contingent gathers up i t s gear and parcels of pork and sets o f f for home. The mafuum ban i s at an end. i v . ( e ) . Iman (Ot/Tap) Ban The next ban i n the sequence i s the ot ban—the drum ban—which together with the tap ban which follows forms part of a larger r i t e , the iman ban, or taro r i t e . S t r i c t l y speaking, the ot ban i s simply that portion of the iman ban i n which the i n i t i a n d s receive t h e i r drums (ot), while the tap ban denotes the phase i n which i n i t i a n d s are showered with hot coals and ashes. The iman ban w i l l usually be performed within a year a f t e r the conclusion of the mafuum ban, though the timing of t h i s i s somewhat v a r i a b l e . The iman ban i s meant to introduce the i n i t i a n d s to the means of promoting taro f e r t i l i t y , and i t i s directed as much to the welfare of taro gardens as i t i s to the i n i t i a n d s themselves. For t h i s reason the timing of the iman ban i s often r e l a t e d to the current state of g a r d e n s — i f the gardens are doing well there i s no pressing need for an iman ban, and i t may i n fac t be undesirable since i t would represent an unwarranted summoning of aid from the usong who w i l l be involved. On the other hand, i f taro i s doing poorly i t w i l l be necessary to conduct an iman ban r e l a t i v e l y quickly. 371 Iman ban may be conducted by any v i l l a g e on i t s own, making use of the usong i n t h e i r yolam who belong to Taro side. In some cases such an iman ban may be triggered by the death (of old age) of a p a r t i c u l a r l y noted gardener, i n which the r e t r i e v a l of h i s bones becomes integrated into the r i t e as a whole. Such iman ban, however, are of only l o c a l i z e d e f f e c t on taro and are not the focus of i n i t i a t i o n s . A man's f i r s t iman ban (including both the ot and tap portions) should always be done at T e l e f o l i p . It i s only a f t e r such an introduction to the iman ban that men may p a r t i c i p a t e i n such r i t e s i n t h e i r home v i l l a g e s . One reason for t h i s i n the past was that men were to take up Afek's own drum, Kungubeen (said to be an archaic form of kong + ogeen = 'domestic p i g mother'). This drum was, however, destroyed when the I l i g i m i n burnt the T e l e f o l i p , and now men learn to play on t h e i r own drums. T e l e f o l i p i s s t i l l , however, the s i t e for the largest and most powerful iman ban, and i s where men are i n i t i a t e d into the r i t e . This i s so for many reasons. To begin with, an iman ban at T e l e f o l i p encourages taro growth throughout Telefolmin and adjacent areas. This i s not only because t h i s i s where Afek f i r s t performed the r i t e , but also because the Taro Vine/rope— i m a n sok—has i t s source underneath the T e l e f o l i p i t s e l f . Further, the p a r t i c i p a t i o n of usong and the use of t h e i r bones as r e l i c s ( i n the sacred netbags, men amem) i s c r i t i c a l i n iman bans and the oldest r e l i c s and usong are the most powerful. The oldest usong of a l l are those at T e l e f o l i p , and of these one i n p a r t i c u l a r i s the most powerful of a l l — t h i s one i s known simply by the name of Oolkupmen, a name which c r y p t i c a l l y r e f e r s to i n t e s t i n e s , o f f a l , feces ( a l l termed ool) and to a kind of hidden d e t e r i o r a t i o n , as i n dry rot (kup). The name i s , of course, u n i n t e l l i g i b l e ; i n the iman ban the true i d e n t i t y of t h i s usong i s . revealed. As with other bans so far discussed, the ot/tap sequence begins when the Mothers of the youths to be i n i t i a t e d assemble them i n t h e i r home v i l l a g e s and prepare to go to T e l e f o l i p . The men w i l l have been given ample 372 warning i n advance by the men of T e l e f o l i p , f o r the successful conclusion of an iman ban requires many pigs and much food. Extra gardens w i l l have been planted and there w i l l have been a quiet moratorium on the k i l l i n g of pigs f o r several months before the ban a c t u a l l y begins. When the time for the ban approaches the Mothers not only gather together the youths under t h e i r charge, but at le a s t one l i v e pig for each i n i t i a n d as we l l , donated by the youths' fathers. These w i l l accompany the novices to T e l e f o l i p . In contrast with the dramatic entry of the men for the mafuum ban, p a r t i c i p a n t s assemble at T e l e f o l i p i n r e l a t i v e quiet, with no singing or dancing. The novices and t h e i r Mothers go into the Kuyapkan, where they s i t at the appropriate hearths, while the pigs are tethered outside, In the meantime, the men who w i l l act as Fathers assemble i n the T e l e f o l i p i t s e l f . From t h i s point on a p r o h i b i t i o n on drinking water i s i n e f f e c t . In the afternoon of the f i r s t day a l l the men and youths gather before the Kuyapkan and behind the T e l e f o l i p at the K i n g b o l t i l , the mound where pigs are k i l l e d . A pig i s taken and tethered to the red tobaa growing out of the Kon g b o l t i l , where i t i s shot and i t remains u n t i l i t s blood has seeped into the earth. Here the men a l l crowd around, novices and f u l l i n i t i a t e s a l i k e , with the.Taro men towards the centre and the Arrow men on the edges. As t h i s takes place, the man who shot the p i g — a Taro man— rap i d l y mutters a phrase over the over again, but too q u i e t l y to be heard or understood by those around him. Following t h i s , two other pigs are k i l l e d i n the same manner, and when the l a s t has been k i l l e d they are butchered and d i s t r i b u t e d i n order of s e n i o r i t y : old men receive the f i r s t p i g , which they take to the katibam to cook; a c t i v e i n i t i a t e s ( i . e . , i n i t i a t o r s , not i n i t i a n d s ) receive the second p i g , which they cook and eat i n the yolam; f i n a l l y , the t h i r d p i g i s given to the i n i t i a n d s , who r e t i r e to the kabeelam where they cook and eat i t . Some of the Mothers go along to the Kuyapkan (the T e l e f o l i p kabeelam, i t w i l l be recalled) with the youths, mainly to 373 supervise the s t a r t i n g of the f i r e i n the Taro hearth, where the pig w i l l be cooked. When night has f a l l e n the Mothers lead the youths outside, and they are warned to remain absolutely s i l e n t . They are l i n e d up behind the T e l e f o l i p with the Taro youths at the head of the l i n e and the Arrow youths at the end. When they have formed up, three Mothers from the Taro side lead three pigs, which are sometimes decorated with small cowrie strings (bonang), and take them to the head of the l i n e . Then, i n s i l e n c e and darkness, they t e l l the youths to follow them. They go to the Taro side of the T e l e f o l i p , on the side opposite the normal path around the t a l l house. They continue round the side, where they see two men standing holding cut cucumbers i n t h e i r hands. The men t e l l them that they are now about to enter the T e l e f o l i p and meet Afek — b u t there i s no door. Before t h e i r eyes, however, they see the three pigs being passed through the walls of the house. Then they are summoned, one by one, and they are once more struck with cucumber, but when they go a b i t further they see that there i s a secret entrance, a place where the w a l l (a c l e v e r l y constructed b l i n d , c o n s i s t i n g here only of the outer 'arrow binding') has been removed. Through t h i s doorway they go, but when they enter amid whispered chants they f i n d that they are not i n the T e l e f o l i p they know. Here there are no rows of pigs' jaws, no hearths, no f l o o r , no hanging bags of usongs' bones. Inside, a l l i s darkness—they are not, i n fa c t , i n the T e l e f o l i p , they are i n a chamber under i t . This i s the T e l e f o l i p Kabutem. As the youths enter, they are t o l d to go either to the Arrow side or Taro side, as i s appropriate. The men who are insi d e watch to make sure they don't bump int o the hearth posts or stumble across the two large bark-covered mounds that l i e beneath each hearth. Here a l l remain i n si l e n c e u n t i l the l a s t youth has entered, when the wa l l panel i s c a r e f u l l y replaced. Once again a l l are urged to be q u i e t — t h e y are i n the presence of Afek. Then the three 374 pigs, the hong amem ('sacred pigs') are coaxed into l y i n g down next to the Taro mound. One Taro man, here c a l l e d tenum ahem . ('sacred man'), takes a dagger made from the thighbone of a cassowary (uunok, the large lowland var i e t y ) and quickly but s i l e n t l y k i l l s each of the pigs i n turn. The pigs' mouths have been muffled with large lumps of taro, and they must not cry out, or the success of the ban w i l l be jeopardized. The three pigs are butchered, and are to be all o c a t e d as before, but with one exception: the l i v e r (-tin), e n t r a i l s ( 0 0 V ) and the bloody parts of the rib-cage and abdomen (isak) are separated from the remainder of the meat. These w i l l be cooked on the spot to be eaten e x c l u s i v e l y by those present who belong to the Taro d i v i s i o n . Of the remainder, one of the hind legs from each p i g i s presented to those of the Arrow side, to be divided among themselves while the other hindquarter w i l l remain for the Taro side. These too w i l l presently be cooked, but the forequarters, head, and back of the pigs w i l l be set aside. Now, at t h i s time, the youths have t h e i r f i r s t chance to look at t h e i r surroundings as the men set about making f i r e s under the house. Five f i r e s i n a l l are b u i l t , the f i f t h one being the sacred f i r e , the at amem. In fa c t , there i s not much to see. The f l o o r i s packed earth under the elevated f l o o r of the house i t s e l f ; the walls are bare but not otherwise unlike those of an ordinary house, except that no doorway i s v i s i b l e . What they do see, however, are the two mounds over which the hearths have been b u i l t . Each of these mounds i s covered with large sheets of bark from the hoop pine, and as the youths watch, a Taro man squeezes cucumber j u i c e over.the mound on the Taro side. The Taro men approach, chanting i n whispers, and begin to peel the layers of bark back, one by one. The chanting goes ahead at an accelerating tempo as the l a s t sheets are removed, and when the f i n a l one has been l i f t e d away they f a l l s i l e n t : there, glowing red i n the f i r e l i g h t , i s Afek h e r s e l f , revealed to them. The men and youths on the Taro side are urged to take a good look so that they w i l l know her and she them; the Arrow men may look too, 375 but must stay on t h e i r side of the house. As the tenum abem stands by, the sheets of bark are replaced one by one. While a l l of t h i s has been going on, cooking stones have been heated for the food they are about to eat. From the corners of the f l o o r leaves of the suum aaldb banana are brought out, and these w i l l be used to cover the food as i t cooks. When the lea f and stone ovens are opened, the Mothers present the youths with foods that have heretofore been forbidden them: loaan abem yams, waan aalab yams, suum aaldb and suum urrikan bananas, yellow em naam pandanus, and kwet tenep and kwet ugit sugar cane. The.kwet ugit cane i s cut . into sections and i t s green skin has already been peeled away, leaving white s t i c k s to be eaten by the i n i t i a n d s . As t h i s i s presented to them, the men sing "Baanip, drink, come!". The youths are encouraged to sing t h i s as we l l , though i t i s never explained who Baanip i s . F i n a l l y , the Mothers cook a bark dish of em ayaap pandanus, and a l l share i n a feast. The youths are once again reminded that they should not eat the bones of the pig, and the Mothers gather these up along with the seeds (em muum) of the pandanus. When a l l have eaten, the Mothers suggest that they now go v i s i t the Fathers. The party gets up to leave, but they do not ex i t i n the same way as they entered. Above them—in the f l o o r of the T e l e f o l i p which forms the . c e i l i n g of the chamber of the Kabutem—an opening appears. The Fathers have been waiting above i n the main chamber a l l along, and now some of them of the Taro side dismantle a section of f l o o r i n g that i s r e a l l y a sort of hatchway or trap door. The novices and t h e i r Mothers climb through t h i s opening u n t i l a l l have reassembled on t h e i r appropriate sections of the T e l e f o l i p f l o o r , a f t e r which the f l o o r i n g i s replaced. Those portions of pork that had been set a s i d e — t h e head, fore-quarters, and back—are now divided among the Fathers, a f t e r they have been cooked by Taro men i n the Taro hearth. The youths' attention i s drawn to the two men amem along the rear w a l l of the T e l e f o l i p , and they are informed that 376 these men amem aren't true usong, but are instead merely bags of bones meant to deceive the younger novices who are sometimes permitted to enter the house. On the Taro side.of. the f l o o r , however, l i e s a huge netbag. This i s the Oolkupmen, and the boys are also t o l d that t h i s man i s the Ot Miit Kayaak, the 'owner of the source of drums'. The men then explain that i t i s t h i s man who w i l l help t h e i r taro grow, and his head i s removed from the netbag and placed on some f r e s h l y cut taro leaves spread out on the f l o o r . As the boys watch, the Taro men explain that t h i s i s Umoim, Afek's younger brother, and that his bones are kept i n the f i r s t dwelling house that Afek b u i l t and through which Telefolmin enter the road to the Land of the Dead. They decorate Umoim with strings of cowries (bonang) and paint him with white bogung clay from a place near the source of the Ok I f i . When t h i s i s completed, they take a portion of the leg of one of the pigs k i l l e d below (one of the portions from the Taro s i d e ) , and to t h i s are added small q u a n t i t i e s of other u n i d e n t i f i e d meat and the seeds which the older men had c o l l e c t e d from the ayaap pandanus cooked below. Then they wrap Umoim up i n a taro l e a f bundle to which they also t i e the s t a l k of a red tobaa cordyline. While a couple of older men gather up b i t s of debris and the pig bones, which must be disposed of (with the exception of the jaws, l a t e r to be painted with red bagan and white bogung and used to adorn the T e l e f o l i p w a l l s ) , the Taro men then replace Umoim i n h i s netbag. The major work of the evening i s now concluded, and the i n i t i a n d s leave the T e l e f o l i p by the normal entrance with t h e i r Mothers and return to the Kuyapkan where they w i l l sleep while the Fathers remain i n the T e l e f o l i p for the night. When they re-enter the Kuyapkan they r e t i r e for a good night's sleep with f u l l b e l l i e s and much to think about. In the morning the inmates of the Kuyapkan awake and eat cold taro l e f t over from the previous night. The Mothers get t h e i r charges together and they go into the T e l e f o l i p once more, but t h i s time they go i n through the door. When they are in s i d e , t h e i r Fathers wait for them with drums—these are the drums the youths' fathers have brought for them, and each novice i s given his drum at t h i s stage. While t h i s i s being done, the men explain how sogaalim, a large monitor l i z a r d , gave the f i r s t drum to men and that i t i s h i s skin that men use to make the drum heads. At the same time, each youth i s also given a tlaam, a bamboo Jew's harp, which they w i l l l a t e r be taught to play. F i n a l l y , each of the novices i s given a stone adze, a fubi which w i l l be h i s for c l e a r i n g gardens. When these things have been d i s t r i b u t e d the men t e l l the youths the secret tales (weng amem) about Afek and Umoim, and how Umoim created the f i r s t fubi. When each boy has h i s paraphernalia they are told to stand as some men enter the T e l e f o l i p carrying bundles of the stalks of tobaa that have been broken o f f from the fence. The youths l i n e up i n two rows before the doorway, corresponding to the Taro and Arrow d i v i s i o n , and as they do so each youth's adze i s placed on h i s shoulder and a s t a l k of tobaa i s placed i n the crook of h i s r i g h t arm.. They are t o l d that they must continue to cradle the tobaa t h i s way, and then they f i l e out of the house and out into the v i l l a g e plaza below. Here they remain seated together for some time, drying i n the sun, as the men say. Soon the Mothers come out to j o i n the youths, where they s i t together chatting. In the afternoon the Fathers emerge from the house, carrying from t h e i r heads ( i n the fashion of women) a number of netbags, among which i s the Oolkupmen to whom the boys were introduced the previous night. With the Fathers i n the lead the men and youths set o f f i n a procession into the bush. They are going to the ilangok, the 'mother of gardens'. As they set o f f , the Mothers untether the pigs that have been t i e d up near the yolabiip, and they take these and large bundles of taro s t a l k s with them. After some time i n the bush they emerge at the ilangok. This i s a large s t u r d i l y fenced garden c l e a r i n g that has been set aside by one of the Taro men of T e l e f o l i p for the purpose of the ban. In the centre of the 378 c l e a r i n g stands the fofolam ('seedling house'-—the name for a small shade or shelder b u i l t to protect young seedlings), a long earthen-floored house b u i l t of tree branches and brush. The pigs are tethered about the c l e a r i n g , and each youth lays down a bundle of taro s t a l k s along with h i s tobaa s t a l k . The Fathers go into the fofolam while the novices and t h e i r Mothers wait outside. At a s i g n a l from the Fathers, the youths and t h e i r Mothers enter the fofolam where the novices are t o l d to s i t i n two long facing l i n e s , according to t h e i r status as e i t h e r Taro or Arrow. There they see the Fathers assembled, wearing f i n e boar's tusks and adorned with s t r i n g s of white cowries. Around the edges of the house are p i l e s of firewood; at the far end of the house a p i g i s tethered, the kong amem, decorated with white bogung clay; i n the centre, is-.a long l i n e of green taro leaves, and l a i d out on top of them are Umoim's head and forearm, along with the s k u l l s and forearms of a number of other usong. These are the contents of the netbags the Fathers c a r r i e d from the T e l e f o l i p , and among them are men amem from each of the v i l l a g e s p a r t i c i p a t i n g i n the ban—these are a l l iman men, taro netbags, and they have been brought by the Taro men from each v i l l a g e for the purpose of t h i s r i t e . Like the '.kong amem, each of the bones of the usong has been painted white with bogung, f o r t h i s i s the colour of taro. A f t e r the novices have been introduced to the usong, the heaps of firewood are p i l e d around and behind the seated i n i t i a n d s and t h e i r Mothers. Then f i v e of the Taro men step forward with t h e i r cane fire-making apparatus, digii, which they have been wearing around t h e i r waists. Each man takes one of the i n i t i a n d s and t e l l s him to l i e down—two are taken from each side, and the f i f t h i s taken from the Taro side, and i s taken to a spot near where the kong amem stands tethered. These men s t a r t singing and begin to make f i r e on the bodies of the i n i t i a n d s themselves. Four of the f i r e s are made on the ri g h t forearms of the youths, while the f i f t h f i r e i s started on the chest of the youth, over h i s heart. These f i r e s are b e n e f i c i a l to the youths, and i t 379 i s said that 'heat' (mamiiri) of a p a r t i c u l a r l y potent form i s imparted to them i n t h i s manner. When the ti n d e r , which i s from the dri e d leaves of the suum aalab banana (instead of the usual wild pandanus l e a f ) , i s i g n i t e d the Fathers begin b u i l d i n g f i r e s behind the seated novices and t h e i r Mothers, The tap phase of the ban i s now underway. The f i r e s begin as a small cordon surrounding the youths, but the Fathers continue to stoke the f i r e s u n t i l they are huge and burning f i e r c e l y . Great care must be taken at t h i s time to ensure that the fofolam, which i s made of brush, does not i t s e l f catch f i r e . The i n i t i a n d s are now surrounded by a r i n g of f i r e , and they must remain s i t t i n g i n place. When the f i r e s have burned down a b i t any incompletely burned pieces of wood are tossed outside and the Fathers begin to repeat, "kuukuk.': kuukuk!". This i s a sign that the novices are to bow t h e i r heads down between t h e i r legs, and t h e i r Mothers w i l l sometimes hold t h e i r heads down i f they do not do so q u i c k l y — i f they f a i l to do t h i s they w i l l r i s k blindness, for what comes next i s a shower of ashes and hot coals from above them. The Fathers take up sheets of bark which they had concealed i n the branches of the fofolam, and they use these to scoop up f i n e grey-white ash from the f i r e s and some of the coals, and they toss these up and over the bowed heads of the novices and t h e i r Mothers. I t i s at this stage that the novices become f u l l men, and the ash shower i s said to be a cooking of t h e i r skin, the completion of t h e i r development—it w i l l only be l a t e r that the novices w i l l also be informed that as a r e s u l t of t h i s shower t h e i r teeth w i l l break, t h e i r hair f a l l out or turn white and the d e b i l i t i e s of age beset them. The Fathers continue for some time i n t h i s fashion, and there i s burnt skin and the smell of singed h a i r . The Arrow men shower Taro men with ashes and vice-versa, while the man standing at the sacred f i r e made where the kong amem i s tethered showers both sides i n d i s c r i m i n a t e l y . Before long, however, the Mothers a r i s e and, urging the novices to j o i n them, seize the 380 bark scoops from the Fathers. Now the tables are turned, and the Mothers and the novices r e t a l i a t e by showering the Fathers with a deluge of coals and ashes, giving as good as they got: now that they have been put through the tap ban the youths are no longer c h i l d r e n , but men. F i n a l l y , when there i s no more to be scooped up, a l l the men s i t once more, a l l sharing a dusting of white ash on t h e i r skins. Now the man who has been standing at the sacred f i r e , the tenum abem, speaks. He d i r e c t s the men's at t e n t i o n to the kong amem, and takes from his stringbag the sharpened thighbone of a cassowary. A l l of those present grasp t h i s i n turn, and then the Taro novices are c a l l e d forward. They crowd around the tenum abem and the kong amem. In whispers, he t e l l s them that t h i s dagger i s the leg of uunok, the mother of b i r d s , and that t h i s woman's secret name i s F i t i l k a n i p . Then, i n a quiet rapid chant he whispers f o r F i t i l k a n i p to come as a l l take hold of the dagger and drive i t through the heart of the kong amem i n one quick, quiet thrust. The pig must die i n s t a n t l y , and without noise or s q u e a l s — i f not i t i s a sign that the ban i t s e l f w i l l be unsuccessful and the gardens w i l l s u f f e r . There i s a hushed s i l e n c e as the pig dies, but when i t i s over there are self-congratulatory smiles and relaxed t a l k among a l l present. Taking the cassowary dagger, the tenum abem makes a small i n c i s i o n i n the pubic area of the pig (a sow) and cuts the skin c a l l e d imaan kaat (imaan = urine, bladder, kaal = skin; note that iman = t a r o ) . Then he c a r e f u l l y removes the e n t r a i l s (pot = i n t e s t i n e s , feces), the l i v e r (Hn) and the bloody portions (isak) of the inner parts of the p i g . This, he explains, i s how the novices must remove the innards of the pigs they have brought to the garden, which they are now about to k i l l . These portions w i l l be cooked i n the garden and eaten by those p r e s e n t — t h e remainder of the carcasses w i l l not be eaten here, but l a t e r on in.the T e l e f o l i p . So saying, the youths are then instructed to leave the 381 fofolam and to k i l l and dress t h e i r pigs while the older men remain to cook the portions they have removed from the kong amem. A f t e r the other pigs have been k i l l e d and the separate portions of them been cooked the youths are c a l l e d back again into the fofolam. A l l the other usong have been put back into t h e i r stringbags, but the bones of Umoim remain. The tenum ahem now takes two taro s t a l k s , one an iman tobaal and the other an iman dumeen. These he puts together with Umoim and with the s t a l k of a tobaa, to which he also adds the small packet of things assembled the previous night i n the T e l e f o l i p . A l l of these are then planted together i n the f l o o r of the fofolam, around which he also plants a c i r c l e of Hub, an asparagus-like garden green, c a l l e d pitpit i n Pidgin. When t h i s has been done he then b u i l d s a small fence to enclose t h i s planting, which i s sometimes c a l l e d the Hang bubul, the heart of the garden. The men then set about dismantling the fofolam. When the fofolam has been dismantled, the new i n i t i a t e s then turn to planting the taro stalks throughout the garden. As each i n i t i a t e thrusts a st a l k into the ground, h i s forearm i s grasped by one of the Taro men who helps him to plant the taro deeply i n the earth and gives h i s hand the heaviness (Hum) necessary for successful taro gardening. While they do t h i s , a l l the men take up t h e i r drums and sing songs of taro, i n which the phrase kwiin buson, dan buson i s repeated over and over. When the garden has been e n t i r e l y planted i n t h i s manner the men and the new i n i t i a t e s a l l assemble together to eat the innards of a l l the pigs that have been k i l l e d . Here they must eat u n t i l a l l of t h i s i s f i n i s h e d , even i f they reach the point of vomiting. They must eat i n haste as w e l l , for they have to return to the v i l l a g e with the remainder of the carcasses before sunset. In a formal sense the novices are no longer novices at t h i s stage and are now grown men (bisel). From t h i s point of the r i t e on the ban proceeds without the d i v i s i o n between Mothers and Fathers, for the youths are 382 now men, no longer c h i l d r e n , and they have no further need of 'parents'. From now on there w i l l be gradations of s e n i o r i t y , knowledge, and experience, to be sure. But the only r e a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t d i v i s i o n i n formal terms i s simply that between Taro and Arrow, As soon as the men have f i n i s h e d eating they take up th e i r tobaa and adzes that they have brought with them to the garden, gather up the carcasses of the pigs they have k i l l e d and set o f f once more for T e l e f o l i p . One old Taro man w i l l follow behind the re s t at the end of the l i n e of men, and t h i s man c a r r i e s a s p e c i a l netbag l i n e d with the red feathers -of the dufaal parrot. As he follows behind he,dances, singing s o f t l y to himself, "kwiin buson, dan buson". In t h i s netbag he c a r r i e s the netbag of Umoim, the Oolkupmen. When the men a r r i v e back i n T e l e f o l i p the verandahs of a l l the houses are p i l e d high with taro that the women have brought from other gardens. Some of the pigs that have been brought back from the ilangok are apportioned for the women and c h i l d r e n of the v i l l a g e , which they eat, The remainder i s eaten by the men i n the T e l e f o l i p that evening, a f t e r which they sleep u n t i l morning. Then the men assemble behind the T e l e f o l i p once more, at the Kongbol t i l . There the pig has the tobaa s t a l k s fastened to i t — t h i s i s the kong tobaayim, the red cordyline p ig. This pig i s then tethered to the tobaa growing out of the Kongbolt i l , and i t i s shot and afterwards cooked. The men take t h i s pork inside the T e l e f o l i p , along with t h e i r tobaa. They feast on th i s p ig, and as they do so each man announces the name of the plo t of land i n which he w i l l make a taro garden and plant h i s tobaa. Those who have brought usong and th e i r men amem along from t h e i r home v i l l a g e s also announce the name of the gardens where these w i l l be planted along with tobaa and taro. Such gardens w i l l be the ilangok for t h e i r own v i l l a g e s as the men hold scaled-down versions of an iman ban at home. Afte r the pork i s f i n i s h e d , the men go outside to s i t i n the plaza, c r a d l i n g t h e i r tobaa s t a l k s i n t h e i r arms. When sunset comes, they w i l l return to the t e l e f o l i p to sleep. The following 383 morning they w i l l leave the T e l e f o l i p and board up i t s door, a f t e r which they may take water and disperse to t h e i r own v i l l a g e s . A f t e r the men have returned to th e i r own v i l l a g e s they take the tobaa from T e l e f o l i p , supplemented by some from the fence of t h e i r own yolam, and these are planted i n t h e i r gardens along with the two v a r i e t i e s of taro used i n T e l e f o l i p . When they do t h i s , they also plant the bones of t h e i r own usong, and t h i s planting i s also fenced i n the same manner as the o r i g i n a l garden of the iman ban. Such taro gardens, i n which tobaa may be seen growing, are amem, and forbidden to women or chi l d r e n . They may only enter these gardens f o r the f i r s t weeding, and t h i s may only be done under the supervision of the man who planted the tobaa and the usongrs bones there, l e s t harm b e f a l l both the crop and the women and c h i l d r e n . Under no circumstances are any of the crops to be harvested from such gardens u n t i l the next phase of the iman ban has been completed. After a period of four to si x months from t h i s time the men of T e l e f o l i p send word out once more to the other v i l l a g e s to c o l l e c t pigs and the recent i n i t i a t e s of the tap ban, for they must return to T e l e f o l i p f o r the f i n i s h i n g of the iman ban. This takes place a f t e r the Taro men of T e l e f o l i p have gone to the ilangok and weeded around the area where Umoim and the tobaa were planted, and only i f taro growth seems to have been s u f f i c i e n t . The men of each v i l l a g e go out to the gardens i n t h e i r own land where they planted t h e i r tobaa and t h e i r own men amem and uproot these, returning them to t h e i r l o c a l yolam. This permits the taro from these gardens to be harvested, and th i s i s done by the men with singing and dancing. When the taro, pigs, and men are a l l gathered they go back to T e l e f o l i p , t r a i l i n g pigs behind them and staggering under the weight of the harvest. Once again men converge on T e l e f o l i p from a l l d i r e c t i o n s , singing and dancing with t h e i r netbags f u l l of taro. They assemble before the T e l e f o l i p , whose door i s unboarded, and as the men sing outside, one old Taro 384 man goes insi d e to l i g h t the f i r e i n the Taro hearth. When t h i s has been done, the men enter the T e l e f o l i p and s i t at the appropriate places. From t h i s point on the ban on water i s once more i n e f f e c t , and the men bed down for the night to sleep. When morning comes they w i l l return to the ilangok, taking with them t h e i r pigs, drums, and adzes. When the party a r r i v e s at the garden they return to the fenced area around the garden heart (Hang bubul) and set about constructing a new fofolam with brush from the surrounding bush. While t h i s i s being done others are sent o f f to chop firewood while yet others tether the pigs they have brought with them. A l l the men gather b r i e f l y i n the new fofolam around the tobaa miton ('principal red c o r d y l i n e ' ) , and then a l l are sent outside except for a handful of old Taro men expert i n the iman ban; these men are c a l l e d the tenum abem kasel ('sacred man people') and unlike the others w i l l have . abstained from eating taro i n the morning. Presently they c a l l out to one of the others to fetch a p a r t i c u l a r l y f i n e p i g — t h e kong amem—that has previously been designated for the fofolam' Outside the fofolam the men decorate themselves with red dufaal feather crowns, s t r i n g s of bonang cowries, and paint themselves with pig grease and ochre. Here the men are at t h e i r most resplendent, and they remark that when they have done t h i s they become as usong themselves or as salap, men who may change form or appear and reappear at w i l l . When a l l have been' properly adorned they shoot the pigs they have tethered and prepare f i r e s i n which to heat the stones by which meat i s to be cooked. As before, the pigs are not butchered, but instead have only t h e i r l i v e r , bloody parts, and e n t r a i l s removed; these portions w i l l be cooked and eaten i n the gardens, but t h i s time the remainder of the carcasses are l e f t uncooked. As a l l of t h i s i s going on there i s the continual din of men drumming and singing taro songs. Aft e r some time the portions which have been cooking are done, and many become impatient to eat. They must however, await the tenum abem kasel 385 i n the fofolam, who must k i l l the kong amem before any may eat. From time to time those outside x ^ i l l make comments to the old men, asking them what i s taking so long, but the old men merely reply, "we're old, not l i k e you, and we have much work—you wait". So i t goes for some time u n t i l a l l are summoned by the tenum abem kasel into the fofolam. When they enter, they see that the tobaa has been uprooted and that Umoim has also been unearthed. He too i s decorated, for the tenum abem kasel have washed him i n the j u i c e of the suum aalab banana and given him a fresh coating of red bagan. The tenum abem kasel then explain that the two taros that have been planted— - i m a n tobaal and iman alumeen—may not be harvested by men. This poses a problem, since none of the taro i n the garden may be harvested u n t i l one of these two taros i s uprooted. The iman tobaal w i l l remain i n the ground to rot, and may not be touched. There i s , however, a s o l u t i o n to the quandary, since there i s a way to harvest the iman dumeen. While the others stand by to watch, the tenum abem kasel tether the kong amem to the s t a l k of the iman dumeen. Then one of these men w i l l take up a bow and an arrow whose point i s made from the thighbone of a lowland cassowary, uunok. A l l the men are to l d to be quiet, and as a hush s e t t l e s over the fofolam he takes aim and looses h i s arrow into the kong amem. Before t h e i r eyes the taro, i s harvested as the pig's death throes p u l l the taro up out of the ground. At t h i s the men r e j o i c e , and then the tenum abem kasel t e l l them now to go out into the garden and to harvest the taro there with singing and drumming while they singe the kong amem and cook i t s innards. When a l l of t h i s has been done the fofolam i s dismantled, Umoim i s returned to h i s netbag with a fresh l i n i n g of taro leaves and suum aalab leaves (for comfort), and the men then feast on the cooked portions of the pigs. Once more, they must consume a l l of t h i s before leaving the garden. As soon as the men have f i n i s h e d eating they take the s t i l l bloody carcasses of the slaughtered pigs and the f r e s h l y harvested taro and return to 386 T e l e f o l i p dancing and singing imandet, the songs of the iman loan. As before, a s o l i t a r y old man brings up the rear, carrying Umoim and the Oolkupmen i n a netbag decorated with red dufaal feathers, singing to himself, "kwiin buson, dan buson". Along the route to the v i l l a g e , those men of T e l e f o l i p who have planted tobaa i n gardens nearby break o f f to uproot these and harvest some of th e i r own taro and r e j o i n the procession further on. As they approach the v i l l a g e the party pauses to sing and dance at a place c a l l e d Imankuptemin. Here one of the songs they sing simply contains the following phrase repeated over and over: "nok ee, et ee, iman 0)0-001" , ("vagina ee, penis ee, taro 0 0 - 0 0 ! " ) . Here many women w i l l have come up from the v i l l a g e to look upon the men, and for some of them the sight of these b e a u t i f u l men and t h e i r taro, with t h e i r long penis gourds bobbing as they dance i s simply too much—they f a i n t and must be revived with n e t t l e s . At such times young women who have r e s i s t e d marriage may f i n d t h e i r doubts overcome. Thus joined by the women, the men dance and sing back to the v i l l a g e while the women perform t h e i r own impromptu dances behind them. The men make a dancing c i r c u i t of the plaza and then enter the T e l e f o l i p yolabiip. The tenum abem kasel and other senior Taro men go up once more into the T e l e f o l i p where they l i g h t the taro f i r e (iman at) i n the Taro hearth. When t h i s has been done they c a l l out for the carcasses of the pigs to be c a r r i e d up, and these are passed through the doorway to them. They then set about cooking the pigs ins i d e the T e l e f o l i p while the others are tol d to go back to the v i l l a g e plaza where both the men and women dance to songs and drumming. The dancing c a r r i e s on past dusk and through the evening. Late i n the evening the pigs have been cooked and the dancers are summoned back to the T e l e f o l i p to eat. Those men who have performed the iman ban before enter f i r s t and take t h e i r places. Then those who are completing the ban for the f i r s t time enter. As they come into the T e l e f o l i p they behold 387 two long heaps of taro running from the doorway to the back w a l l of the house, atop which l i e p i l e s of meat. When each new i n i t i a t e enters he passes between these l i n e s , and as he does so he i s presented with cooked meat by each of the men from both the Taro and Arrow s i d e s — t h e r e i s l i t t l e point i n o f f e r i n g them taro at t h i s time, for they are loaded down with more meat than they can carry. Eventually a l l of the men have t h e i r portions and are seated i n t h e i r proper places, and they a l l begin to eat. The new men are t o l d that they must f i n i s h a l l of t h i s meat-—if they are f u l l they can lay i t aside for the following day, but i t must a l l be eventually consumed. They are also t o l d that from now on they may eat kuyaam marsupials i f given to them by an old man, and may enter the katibam a f t e r t h i s i f they wish. At t h i s point too they are t o l d the secret t a l e about Afek and the o r i g i n s of taro. After the narration of the story has been completed and the men have eaten at l e a s t some of t h e i r meal they take portions of the meat and cut them into f i n e l i t t l e b i t s , which are then mashed and xrorked into cooked taro and formed into small cakes. It i s important that t h i s be done i n such a way that the meat can barely be recognized as such. When they have done t h i s , a man i s sent out into the v i l l a g e to summon a l l the boys and youths who have passed through the dagasal ban but have not begun the sequence for the iman ban. These boys enter the T e l e f o l i p , where a l l of the meat has been concealed under p i l e s of taro. They are t o l d to come i n and s i t down, and each of them i s given a small cake to e a t — t h e y are not t o l d that there i s meat i n i t , for t h i s i s amem, sacred and secret. Instead, the men t e l l them that t h i s d e l i c i o u s taro i s the r e s u l t of t h e i r work i n the ban, but that t h i s i s a secret which they must keep from the women. (The f a i l u r e to detect the actual presence of meat by the boys i s perhaps understandable, given the poor l i g h t i n s i d e the yolam.). Once the boys have eaten, they are shooed out of the yolam once again and t o l d to j o i n the women i n the plaza down below—without, however, revealing anything of what they have seen. 388 When the boys have gone the l a s t phase of the r i t e i s concluded. The meat i s placed once more atop the p i l e s of taro, and each new man i s i n turn t o l d to go over and l i e atop t h i s . As he does so, an old Taro man who enjoys the reputation of being a productive gardener l i e s on top of him, whispering u n i n t e l l i g i b l e phrases. This i s to impart heaviness (ilum) to u these men to promote t h e i r taro planting a b i l i t i e s . F i n a l l y the iman ban draws to a c l o s e — t h e formula "bogolok diip diip, misiok diip diip..." i s pronounced and a l l the men may take water as soon as they leave the T e l e f o l i p . The men are now released to go down below into the plaza where they dance again u n t i l daybreak. At dawn the people who have come from other v i l l a g e s return home, where they sleep and hold small feasts of t h e i r own. Each of the men takes h i s own portion of pork from the T e l e f o l i p home with him, which he must f i n i s h on h i s own—he may not share t h i s with anyone, and i f he i s unable to eat i t , he must allow i t to r o t . In T e l e f o l i p , a l l the v i l l a g e r s return to the ilangok, taking a p i g with them. This pig i s shot i n the garden, a f t e r which men, women, and c h i l d r e n harvest more taro and have a p a r t y - l i k e feast of t h e i r own. This garden i s for a l l of T e l e f o l i p , and any may take of i t f r e e l y , save the iman tobaal that remains where the tobaa was planted; t h i s i s s t i l l amem. Women and c h i l d r e n should avoid t h i s area of the garden, and the taro i s l e f t to rot there. The iman ban i s f i n i s h e d . Some time afterwards the men go o f f into the bush once more to hunt, f o r , as t h e i r elders w i l l remind them, taro i s n ' t everything. v. More about I n i t i a t i o n s and Their Interpretation The i n i t i a t i o n bans so f a r d e s c r i b e d — d a g a s a l , om, tlalalep, mafuum, ot, tap, iman—are the major r i t e s through which a l l men must pass, but they are not, of course, the sum t o t a l of the T e l e f o l r e p e r t o i r e of bans. There are, as mentioned elsewhere, others. There i s the kong ban to promote the 389 prosperity of domestic pigs: women as well as men p a r t i c i p a t e , a comprehensive imagery of prosperity i s employed, emphasizing the colour white (taro and pig f a t being the objects of such work) and the use of moisture-laden substances. There i s also the nefarious biit ban by which men become sorcerers. The tetil r i t e i s directed at c o n t r o l l i n g epidemic i l l n e s s , and t h i s makes use of wild pigs and wild dogs and the conquest of the colour red by the colour white. More s i g n i f i c a n t , perhaps, are the Arrow r i t e s of the re p e r t o i r e aimed at success i n hunting and warfare. These are now l a r g e l y moribund r i t u a l s , due mainly to the p a c i f i c a t i o n of the T e l e f o l region by c o l o n i a l and l a t e r government administration. As such, few men of the a c t i v e adult generation have p a r t i c i p a t e d i n them, though i t i s possible to glean accounts from the memories of senior men. The general complement of the iman ban was the un ban or un baal, the arrow r i t e . Two subsidiary bans went to make up th i s r i t e , the saaman ban: ('wild p i g r i t e ' ) and the bogol ban ('eagle r i t e ' ) . Once again, such bans were i n the main held at T e l e f o l i p , and were of a duration and complexity equalling that of the iman ban. Arrow men predominated i n the un baal, and were part of a general sequence of a c t i v i t i e s that began with the hunting of marsupials, proceeding to c o l l e c t i v e wild pig hunts, and f i n a l l y to raids on enemy groups, the success of each phase serving as an augury of success i n subsequent phases. As with the iman ban, the un baal was f u l l of metaphorically dense and complex references and held unexpected revelations f or the novices. Among these was the performance of forbidden acts, including the k i l l i n g of a black dog—the k i l l i n g of dogs i s one of the things that Telefolmin must not do, and t h i s i s p a r t l y t i e d to the prominence of dogs i n the tales of T e l e f o l o r i g i n s . Nonetheless, i n the un baal a black dog given the name W i s i i must be k i l l e d without shedding i t s blood but seeing to i t that a l l of i t s bones are broken, an act accomplished with c h a r a c t e r i s t i c ingenuity. Further, a s p e c i a l marsupial from the bush 390 must be captured l i v e and brought into the T e l e f o l i p — a n o t h e r forbidden act, since i t w i l l be r e c a l l e d that the mere mention of marsupials i s strongly prohibited i n the v i c i n i t y of yolam or men amem. Among other things, the men do not eat the marsupial but dp eat the dog—Arrow men receive the upper portions while Taro men receive the lower part. These r i t e s are a l l highly amem, i n p a r t i c u l a r the un baal. I w i l l discuss them no further than to merely allude to them as an i n d i c a t i o n that the bans already described do not exhaust the T e l e f o l r e p e r t o i r e of secret and sacred r i t u a l : much more remains. For our purposes, however, the major i n i t i a t o r y bans are enough, since they i n themselves provide material that promises to exhaust any conceivable form of analysis (rather than the reverse). This may seem l i k e a sweeping claim, but i t seems to me that there can be l i t t l e dispute about i t : to borrow a metaphor from Burridge (1965:97), the world of men's r i t u a l i n Telefolmin has the character of an omnivorous chameleon that can crunch up anything the analyst tosses at i t and s t i l l have s p i t f or more, For example, i f I have been doing my job properly, a p e c u l i a r sense ought to emerge from the d e s c r i p t i o n of the bans: there i s a simultaneous c l a r i f i c a t i o n and befogging of what i s going on, both i n the context of T e l e f o l culture at large and i n the text of the r i t e s themselves. It i s possible of course that t h i s may be the r e s u l t of i n s u f f i c i e n t information or of i n s u f f i c i e n t a p p l i c a t i o n of thought, and i n e i t h e r case the prospect of f u l l e r understanding i s held out as a p o s s i b i l i t y . This i s not an e n t i r e l y vain hope, and I w i l l t r y to make more sense of what Telefolmin are up to i n t h e i r bans. Nonetheless, r e c a l c i t r a n t p e r p l e x i t i e s w i l l remain. Let me t r y to i n d i c a t e what I mean by discussing some of the d e t a i l s of the bans. What are we to make, for instance, of the recurring prominence of apparently sexual or procreative themes i n the bans? We know that, i n addition to whatever else may be going on, the i n i t i a n d s themselves are the 391 chief objects of a l l t h i s a c t i v i t y : i t i s said to grow them up. Now how i s t h i s to be understood? Telefolmin speak of novices as e i t h e r 'children' (man) or 'gardens' (Hang) of the r i t e through which they are passing. Further, to put a youth through an i n i t i a t i o n i s c a l l e d ban dupkamin, and dupkamin i s a verb which means either to give b i r t h to a boy (given the masculine object prefex, dup-) or to plant small things (since the masculine gender i s also applied to small rather than large objects). This i s echoed i n the organization of the i n i t i a t o r s and t h e i r tasks, for some are Mothers (ogeenal) while others are Fathers (aalabal), and there are ample references throughout the sequence to acts that are required to make the novices grow and mature. This i s reinforced by means of a comprehensive metaphor l i n k i n g a l l the p a r t i c i p a n t s i n i n i t i a t i o n to kabeel, h o r n b i l l s . The f i r s t house which boys are permitted to sleep i n during the i n i t i a t i o n process i s the kabeelam, the h o r n b i l l house. Here they stay i n company with t h e i r ogeenal, t h e i r Mothers. Outside, the Fathers, the aalabal, see to i t that s u f f i c i e n t food i s gathered together, which they pass through to the Mothers i n s i d e to give to the c h i l d r e n ; i n addition, they make various preparations for further a c t i v i t i e s i n the i n i t i a t i o n s . Now then: why h o r n b i l l s ? I t i s tempting to say—perhaps too e a s i l y , i t seems to me— that t h i s i s because h o r n b i l l s are large, clever, impressive birds with p h a l l i c beaks. Why not h o r n b i l l s ? Indeed, they are p a r t i c u l a r l y apposite i n these terms, and we can f i n d ample evidence at a r e a d i l y accessible l e v e l : boys are supposed to acquire the gregariousness, the strength, and the wit of the h o r n b i l l , and they may be a f f e c t i o n a t e l y referred to as such. Further, we have already noted that h o r n b i l l beaks may serve as a dressy a l t e r n a t i v e to the gourds that men normally use as a penis covering. The problem, however, i s that i f we l e t i t go at t h i s the analysis has been short-c i r c u i t e d — t h e r e i s more to l e a r n about h o r n b i l l s . 392 If the kabeelam i s i n some sense a h o r n b i l l house, what i s a r e a l h o r n b i l l house l i k e ? H o r n b i l l s , i t turns out, have p e c u l i a r nesting habits which Telefolmin f i n d i n t e r e s t i n g . H o r n b i l l s nest, l i k e many other b i r d s , i n t r e e s — b u t unlike others, they don't make t h e i r nests i n the branches of trees, but i n the trunks (at tii-m; note that i f a kabeelam i s unavailable, a s p e c i a l house c a l l e d a tiiman i s b u i l t for them). They f i n d a tree i n which there i s a hole, and t h i s i s where the female h o r n b i l l remains when she i s about to lay her eggs—here i t may be suggestive to r e c a l l that the doorways (amitem—'house hole') of T e l e f o l houses are round or oval openings i n the front w a l l . The female h o r n b i l l goes into the tree and stays there with her eggs. The male, on the other hand, remains outside and does not enter t h i s nest; instead, he forages f o r the female and her chicks and returns p e r i o d i c a l l y to the nest (or house, as Telefolmin put i t ) with food that he regurgitates and passes through the opening with h i s beak. The mother and c h i l d r e n stay in s i d e by themselves for quite some time, and with each subsequent v i s i t by the father the opening of the hole grows smaller and smaller with the accumulation of debris from regurgitated f o o d — a s t h i s builds up and d r i e s , the entrace to the nest becomes very t i n y . The mother and c h i l d r e n are i n e f f e c t i v e seclusion. At some point the baby h o r n b i l l s have become strong and the opening too small for food to be passed, and so the mother breaks open the 'doorway' with her beak and v o i l a ! The male and female h o r n b i l l s r e j o i n , accompanied by a small f l o c k of young ones. Here i t should be noted that t h i s i s a wonderful model of the i n i t i a t i o n process: hidden seclusion followed by a miraculous emergence (see Schodde and Hitchcock 1972). To return to the point, i t may indeed be the case that recurrent examples of p h a l l i c imagery can be found—here I w i l l simply r e c a l l the s t r i k i n g with cucumbers, the chewing of sugar cane, the binding of boys' penes to the r a f t e r s of t h e i r house, the throwing of bananas at women (short 393 ones i n the dagasal ban, long ones i n the mafuum ban), the secret bamboo tubes f i l l e d with pig grease, the showering of youths with water from gourds akin to those used as penis c o v e r i n g s — a l l of t h i s i s f a i r l y c l e a r . But here we.risk only repeating what we knew a l l along: long things and penes look a l i k e , and men use such things i n r i t u a l as instruments i n t h e i r c o l l e c t i v e task of reproducing men. At the same time, much has been missed i f we f a i l to understand the fact that the beak of a male h o r n b i l l i s not so much a reproductive organ as an instrument of nourishment, or that an e s s e n t i a l part of the process of transformation seems to involve seclusion. There i s much i n T e l e f o l i n i t i a t i o n that could be understood f a i r l y r e a d i l y i n terms of themes touching upon the organization of the society. Thus i t would be f a i r to say that one of the things the i n i t i a t i o n s accomplish i s the a l i e n a t i o n of boys from t h e i r mothers and the world of ch i l d r e n and the enhancement of male s o l i d a r i t y . Or we could say that the i n i t i a t i o n s — e s p e c i a l l y at the senior l e v e l s — s e r v e to integrate men of d i f f e r e n t v i l l a g e s into a society-wide congregation through t h e i r ... p a r t i c i p a t i o n at T e l e f o l i p . Or i t would be possible to i n t e r p r e t much of what goes on i n terms that suggest the domination of juniors by seniors, enforced through the monopolization of r i t u a l knowledge by older men. In the case of some of the r i t e s , p a r t i c u l a r l y the iman ban, i t i s cl e a r that the organization of r i t u a l a c t i v i t i e s tends to mobilize and coordinate productive e f f o r t s throughout the society as a whole, and further, that t h i s tends to extract "surplus" from c i r c u l a t i o n and a l l o c a t e i t to men at the expense of women. And so on... The problem with a l l of t h i s i s that none of these things are p a r t i c u l a r l y i n t e r e s t i n g to know or say. Rather than t e l l us anything new, they reassure us that there i s nothing new to learn. This seems a serious mistake, and impoverishes the p o s s i b i l i t i e s held out to us by dismissing what i s more d i f f i c u l t to understand: why i s r i t u a l invested with so much 394 elaboration i n Telefolmin? I f , as many including Barth (19.75) and Leach (1975) have suggested, r i t u a l i s a matter of communication, what i s i t that i s being communicated, and why i s t h i s done i n the way that i t is? Are there not simpler ways to go about i t ? Telefolmin say that i n the i n i t i a t i o n s they open the boys' eyes and teach them things which are sacred and secret (amem)—nowadays, men compare the i n i t i a t i o n process to schooling. But while i t i s c l e a r that many things are revealed to the i n i t i a n d s , many things are opaque, obscure, hidden.. Some examples pertaining to the r i t u a l s already described w i l l provide some idea of how t h i s works. We can begin with the case of the missing cucumbers. When the boys enter the yolam for the f i r s t time i n the dagasal ban they are struck over t h e i r hearts with cucumbers, and for t h i s there i s a ready explanation: i t i s to protect them from the heat of the usong, and serves to provide moisture when water i s forbidden them; i t soothes t h e i r skin, which has j u s t been flogged with n e t t l e s ; i t enhances t h e i r future growth, r e c a l l i n g the quickness with which cucumbers grow. At a l a t e r stage i n the dagasal ban these cucumbers are placed i n t h e i r netbags, the dagasal themselves; these the boys must not touch or remove, but instead allow them to rot i n the bags. Further, they must not t e l l the women about them. Cucumbers w i l l before long become f a m i l i a r i n r i t u a l contexts, since they are often used to protect those who w i l l come into contact with usong. In addition, those who w i l l eventually look a f t e r usong i n t h e i r men amem w i l l l earn that t h i s i s a favourite form of food for usong, and g i f t s of cucumber are often placed i n men amem. This i s p a r t l y out of consideration for the usong, since t h e i r material existence i s confined to that of bones which are dry. In addition, cucumbers have a cooling e f f e c t which w i l l p a c i f y and please an usong that i s angry. 395 A l l t h i s i s , i n the context of T e l e f o l r i t u a l , f a i r l y s t r a i g h t -forward s t u f f . There i s , however, one per p l e x i t y when one considers the r o l e of cucumbers i n the mafuum ban. Here, at the outset, the youths are beaten with cucumbers as i n the opening stages of the dagasal ban. And, as i n the dagasal ban they receive cucumbers at a c l o s i n g stage of the r i t e . The problem, however, i s that these are not the same cucumbers—they are whole and r i p e . In the general context of the ban t h i s makes sense, for the novices are now whole and ri p e as we l l , and when they are encouraged to throw these at nubile women rather than concealing them we can understand t h i s as a reference to the maturing sexuality of the youths. Matters become more i n t e r e s t i n g , however, i f we ask what has become of the o r i g i n a l cucumbers, the ones with which they were struck when the mafuum ban f i r s t began. These cucumbers, i t develops, were not discarded or thrown away. Rather, they were turned over to one of the Fathers, who c a r e f u l l y c o l l e c t e d them and took them elsewhere. In t h i s other place there i s the men amem of an usong c a l l e d Unang M i l i p . Unang M i l i p i s (was) not a man, l i k e most other usong. Instead, she \<ras a promiscuous woman, one who was i n s a t i a b l e f or men. Here the bones kept are not the normal s k u l l and forearm, but instead the p e l v i s . The youths' cucumbers are, one a f t e r the other, rubbed r a p i d l y i n and out of the pubic ca v i t y , a f t e r which they are l e f t i n the netbag where the bones are kept. Nor i s t h i s a l l , f o r another man w i l l have gone into the forest and harvested wild and i n e d i b l e taro. The stal k s of these plants are likewise rubbed i n and out of the pubic ca v i t y . A l l taro secretes a f l u i d which causes i t c h i n g on contact with skin, and t h i s i s very strongly marked i n wild (or, more probably, f e r a l ) v a r i e t i e s . Thus the rubbing with the wild taro causes the vagina of Unang M i l i p to i t c h , causing her to l u s t a f t e r men and i n c i d e n t a l l y disposing l i v e women to do likewise. This has a further benefit, for i t i s also said that t h i s act w i l l help to a t t r a c t taro which 396 has run away back to the gardens. Now a l l of t h i s has gone on without the knowledge of the novices, and i t i s not explained to them unless and u n t i l they return to the mafuum ban as i n i t i a t o r s rather than i n i t i a n d s . I t should probably come as no surprise that Unang M i l i p i s active i n the dagasal ban as wel l . Perhaps i t w i l l also come as no surprise that the red face paint of the mafuum ban i s metaphorically menstrual blood (nok isak)—this much i s cle a r from the myths which are revealed to the novices, though i t may not be clear that the menstrual blood of a l i v i n g woman has also been added to t h e i r paint mixture. Again, they are not t o l d t h i s u n t i l they return to the ban as i n i t i a t o r s . . . . So much for cucumbers. By now i t should be apparent that there i s more to the bans than meets the eye. One i s tempted to wonder, f or example, what the Fathers are up to when they are out of sight. Are they j u s t r e s t i n g or lounging i n the yolam, or i s something else going on? When old men c o l l e c t together the bones from pigs eaten i n bans, what happens with these bones? What i s the old fellow with the red-feathered netbag up to when he follows the procession singing to himself? What does the phrase "kwiin buson, dan buson" mean? What are the tenum abem kasel doing i n the fofolam that takes them so long when others are waiting for the kong amem to be k i l l e d ? Such questions may of course be empty, but then again they may not. Here we would do well to r e c a l l that everything concerned with bans and the a f f a i r s of the yolam i s amem, both sacred and secret. From the point of view of the analyst, t h i s poses a major problem since i t i s never clear whether or not one has s u f f i c i e n t material to perform an analysis that w i l l allow one to understand what i s going on. As we s h a l l see l a t e r , t h i s d i f f i c u l t y i s not confined to the outsider wishing to make sense of things: the actors i n the r i t e s face s i m i l a r problems. 397 At the r i s k of flogging a dead horse, I w i l l t r y to shed some l i g h t on t h i s by returning once more to one of the c r i t i c a l phases of the iman ban. Here I r e f e r to the k i l l i n g of the kong amem with a cassowary bone arrow. The f i g u r e F i t i l k a n i p has. already been introduced, an ancestress who was a cassowary of the lowland v a r i e t y , i . e . , an uunok, 'mother of b i r d s ' . The uunok i s , i t w i l l be r e c a l l e d , forbidden to a l l Telefolmin as food. Who i s F i t i l k a n i p ? She i s Afek, and when t h i s arrow i s loosed, Afek i s kicking the pig, and i n so doing, she harvests the f i r s t taro: the bone used for the arrow point i s the same as that used as a dagger on other occasions, and t h i s i s not the bone of any ordinary uunok, but the thighbone of Afek h e r s e l f . Thus i t i s that by t h i s p e c u l i a r means of inaugurating the taro harvest i n the ilangok, the mother of gardens, Afek herself leads the way and j o i n s i n with the men. In the process, the meaning of the r i t e has been transformed, but only f o r those who are aware that t h i s i s the case. The problem seems to be that the r i t u a l s of i n i t i a t i o n construct a kind of sense by making (or revealing) new connections, but i t i s not always c e r t a i n j u s t what these connections are. How then to determine the "message(s)" of r i t u a l ? The task i s daunting, and seems doomed to r e s u l t either i n c e r t a i n broad but r e l a t i v e l y impoverished generalizations, or else i n a c o n s t e l l a t i o n of gem-l i k e fragments whose r e l a t i o n s to each other require an awesome amount of s c a f f o l d - b u i l d i n g . Where, then, from here? Rather than t r y i n g to f e e l our way through the l a b y r i n t h at present, we might do better to simply l i s t some prominent features. F i r s t l y , the r i t e s exclude women and tend to be concerned with promoting the maturation of youths i n both s o c i a l and p h y s i o l o g i c a l senses. Here we may note that men acquire male Mothers (the ogeenal) and multiple Fathers (the aalabal—true fathers cannot p a r t i c i p a t e d i r e c t l y i n t h e i r sons' i n i t i a t i o n s ) — o n e ' s " n a t u r a l " parents are supplanted by " r i t u a l " parents. Further, the r i t e s are characterized by a continual statement and restatement of the d i v i s i o n 398 between hunting and gardening, k i l l i n g and nurturing. This i s evidenced not only i n the interplay between Fathers and Mothers of the i n i t i a n d s , nor simply i n the Arrow and Taro d i v i s i o n , but i n the repeated emphasis of the colours red and white i n varying contexts. One might say, then, that the r i t e s embody a c r y p t i c discourse on the r e l a t i o n between these themes, the dramatization of a d i a l e c t i c between them that somehow remains obscure, more f e l t and sensed than c l e a r l y grasped. Somehow, somewhere within t h i s maze there i s something being said about the nature of l i f e and death: white i s the colour of taro, of pork f a t , of the bones of usong, of the bonang with which men marry and found f a m i l i e s , of the bogung with which Umoim i s painted when he i s buried i n the garden to help the taro grow, and i t i s also the colour of maggots and of old men's h a i r ; red i s the colour of war and the hunt, of the blood of pigs and of menstrual women, but i t i s also the colour of the tobaa which surrounds the yolam and which i s planted i n the gardens, and of the bagan with which new i n i t i a n d s are painted. One has the sense of necessary antitheses here, which are for the most part d i s t i n c t and must be kept so, but which are sometimes brought into conjunction. Such things are almost never e x p l i c i t l y a r t i c u l a t e d but are manifest i n a number of non-verbal contexts, and can be perhaps summed i n two r e l a t i v e l y commonplace uses of red and white outside major r i t u a l : a lad having trouble k i l l i n g marsupials at night w i l l go to a renowned hunter and the l a t t e r w i l l paint h i s forehead with ochre, bagan; a young woman who i s having trouble rearing pigs w i l l go to a well-known pig tender, who w i l l paint the g i r l ' s r i g h t xjrist and forehead with white clay, bogung. In both cases the simple act of being painted i n t h i s manner i s thought to be e f f i c a c i o u s i n i t s e l f . The r i t u a l s can be said to constitute an education i n such matters i n a form that i s immediate, powerful but i n many ways unclear. There i s , however, one aspect of the process that I have only alluded to i n an i n d i r e c t 399 and peripheral manner so f a r : the i n i t i a n d s are t o l d myths, I t i s i n the sacred and secret myths concerning Afek that the ideas embodied i n the r i t u a l s are most c l e a r l y presented;•it i s here that they are put to work, and i t i s here that men work upon them. v i . Secret Narratives and the Afek Myths Tales i n Telefolmin are of many d i f f e r e n t kinds. There are tales of the old days (sogaamiyok sang) and tales of f i g h t i n g (waasi sang) ; there are f a i r y t a l e s , the utuum sang, which people t e l l f o r fun to pass an evening and perhaps convey a moral. And there are the t a l e s of Afek, Afek sang— these are a l l amem and may not be t o l d i n the hearing of women or c h i l d r e n , or of j u n i o r i n i t i a t e s who have not yet been properly introduced to them. Unlike other t a l e s , Afek sang reveal truths and are powerful and p o t e n t i a l l y dangerous because of t h i s . There are a number of d i f f e r e n t t a l e s about Afek, but i n a sense they are a l l the same t a l e . This i s not simply because they a l l have the same c e n t r a l character, but also because they are arranged i n a cycle with a known sequence. This i s one of the reasons that youths i n the dagasal ban are taught Afek's i t i n e r a r y f i r s t : t h i s journey provides the temporal as well as s p a t i a l order for narratives that they w i l l subsequently learn. Weng amem i s secret/sacred/forbidden speech. This embraces t a l k concerning anything amem, say, the d e t a i l s of a ban. It also comprises secret phrases akin to what we would understand as s p e l l s , many of which contain v e i l e d a l l u s i o n s to the e s o t e r i c names of actors or objects i n the Afek n a r r a t i v e s . The content of Afek sang—at the e x p l i c i t l e v e l , anyway-—is most often an account of o r i g i n s , of how things came to be and why they are as they are. As we s h a l l see l a t e r , one of the d i f f i c u l t i e s facing men i s the c o n t r a d i c t i o n they face between teaching and communicating these t a l e s and safeguarding t h e i r secrecy. 4 0 0 Men say that weng amem always has two parts: the kuuk and the magam. The kuuk i s the head or the ' t i p ' of the story, much, l i k e the t i p of a growing plant: i t i s t h i s which i s v i s i b l e and most r e a d i l y grasped. The mag am, however, i s the source or the 'root' of the s t o r y — i t i s le s s well seen, but i t i s the source and meaning of a l l that grows out of i t (magam has a range of meanings, including: 'source', 'base', 'basis', ' o r i g i n ' , 'root', and 'meaning'). While many men know the kuuk of a l l the t a l e s about Afek, only a few men know the magam. Out of t h i s a l l else flows, and men compare the t a l e s and men's understanding of them to root crops i n the gardens—the top i s that which a l l see, but the nourishment comes from that which l i e s hidden below. Whenever I asked men for the d e t a i l s surrounding what went on i n the bans, those who shed the most l i g h t on what was taking place always did so by revealing the mag am, and t h i s was embodied i n Afek sang. In an important sense then the Afek sang constitute an exegetical commentary on the world of men's r i t u a l ; perhaps more meaningfully, they are the magam of T e l e f o l c u l t u r e . One of the s t r i k i n g c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of myths of the Afek cycle i s that they are a r t i c u l a t e d to each other along two axes: the f i r s t i s provided by the s p a t i a l and temporal order of Afek's i t i n e r a r y , while the second i s an axis of more or les s e s o t e r i c and secret versions of the same episode ( i . e . , the diffe r e n c e between the kuuk and the magam). Here one of the means by which the import of myths i s transformed i s through the s e r i a l linkage of d i f f e r e n t episodes into more complex myths, a linkage that i s often only made evident through the .revelation of a more es o t e r i c v e r s i o n which coalesces them. This can be understood as an organization i n terms of l e v e l s and chaining, a phrase used by P h y l l i s Healey (1966) i n her work on T e l e f o l sentence structure. One r e s u l t of t h i s kind of linkage i s a dense network of cross-references between component myths of the cycle which amounts to a species of "meta-mythology" e x p l o i t i n g both metaphorical and metonymical r e l a t i o n s f o r the production of meaning. An example may be afforded by the mythical treatment of the dubung p r o h i b i t i o n which forbids the eating of one's own or one's children's pigs. This t a l e i s c a l l e d dubung mi-ii or dubung mag am. The reason Telefolmin may never eat t h e i r own pigs i s , i n the kuuk version, quite simple. When Afek was at T e l e f o l i p she cooked a pig and fed i t to her c h i l d r e n and they became sic k . As a r e s u l t , she decreed that from that time on Telefolmin were to observe the dubung r u l e (unlike, for example, the Fegolmin to the south). At t h i s point we have l i t t l e more than a just-so story which does nothing other than to set the seal of Afek's authority on the p r o h i b i t i o n . But, as i t happens, there i s a more eso t e r i c version of the same t a l e which makes one important addition: before she fed t h i s pig to her chi l d r e n her period came on, and she menstruated over t h i s p i g . I t was t h i s that made them sick, f o r Telefolmin hold menstrual blood to be dangerous. At t h i s point things become r e a l l y i n t e r e s t i n g , since i t turns out that there i s another myth also set i n T e l e f o l i p i n which Afek menstruates into an igin dish, and t h i s i s the o r i g i n of p a r t i c u l a r v a r i e t i e s of pandanus (blood-coloured and prepared i n such a di s h ) , e s p e c i a l l y em ayaap, forbidden to women. This t a l e i s also simultaneously the story which accounts for the various birds which have the colour r e d — t h e y flocked around and bathed i n Afek's menstrual blood, and they are forbidden to women because i f they were to eat such things i t would be as though they were eating themselves. They are i n f a c t the same nar r a t i v e (sang maagop), but may be tol d piecemeal, depending on the context i n which they are being t o l d . There are, however, further layers to the story, since i t i s l a t e r revealed that the pig i s not r e a l l y a pig at a l l , but a man—and more than that, he i s (via a cross-reference to the l o c a l e of a previous narrative) Afek's grandson. The series of aligned t a l e s i s by now quite dense, but there i s a further one to be 402 added, f o r t h i s a l s o takes place at the same time as the t a l e that accounts f o r d e t a i l s of female physiology i n which the 'kayaal—prohibited as food to those of reproductive age—uses i t s long f i n g e r s to form p a r t s of Afek's vagina. What has happened here? A number of episodes which are narrated s e p a r a t e l y are revealed i n the magam as being the same t a l e . From one p o i n t of view t h i s concatenation produces a convergence upon a f o c a l s e r i e s of problems; viewed from a s l i g h t l y d i f f e r e n t angle, t h i s convergence manages to produce s e r i a l transformations of meaning w i t h i n the same corpus of n a r r a t i v e s by r e a l i g n i n g the l i m i t s and contexts of the component t e x t s so that they become r e f r a c t i o n s of one another. I f we r e t u r n to the substance of the v a r i o u s t a l e s summed i n t h i s process we f i n d the i d e o l o g i c a l a s s e r t i o n that the f o l l o w i n g things are of the same order: e a t i n g one's p i g e a t i n g menstrual blood e a t i n g a r e l a t i v e (women) e a t i n g ayaap pandanus .. (women) e a t i n g red b i r d s , (those of c h i l d b e a r i n g age) e a t i n g kayaal marsupials A n a l y t i c a l l y i t i s worth n o t i n g that t h i s myth i s o f f e r e d by men who are asked why they may not marry t h e i r s i s t e r s , and though i t might be d i f f i c u l t to t e l l from the kuuk of the n a r r a t i v e why t h i s i s so, the magam makes i t p l a i n : one should not consume onese l f . Or, i n what i s perhaps a more authen t i c T e l e f o l idiom, n u r t u r i n g and k i l l i n g must be d i s t i n g u i s h e d and kept apart: the f a i l u r e to do so i s u l t i m a t e l y a form of auto-cannibalism. And t h i s , of course, i s the e x p l a n a t i o n f o r why Afek's c h i l d r e n became s i c k from the p i g she fed them: they were e a t i n g t h e i r own substance. Perhaps i t i s t h i s that accounts f o r the otherwise cur i o u s custom whereby men (almost always r e l a t i v e s ) administer a mock beating to small boys who are given ayaap pandanus to eat, the 'enemy' pandanus: as small boys they are yet somewhat woman-like, but the r i s k of 'eating themselves' i s avoided by t u r n i n g i t i n t o a 403 sort of 'enemy'. In passing we should note that one feature of the l o g i c underlying t h i s myth serie s i s that i t i s because of the connections and s i m i l a r i t i e s between these various e n t i t i e s that they are kept apart, amem. This i s a feature that w i l l resurface from time to time i n an examination of T e l e f o l myth. In the previous chapter I explored the themes of order and entropy as manifested at various l e v e l s of T e l e f o l l i f e . This d i a l e c t i c takes on various forms, sometimes as a tension between c e n t r i f u g a l and centripedal forces, sometimes between death and l i f e , sometimes between loss and recovery. This preoccupation constitutes one of the c e n t r a l r e f r a i n s of Afek sang, and much of the cycle appears to be devoted to the development of an i n t r i c a t e and many-faceted discourse on t h i s subject. Because of the richness of the serie s of narratives dealing with t h i s t o p i c , and because an i n t e g r a l part of what they communicate i s the rather c a r e f u l l y c o n t r o l l e d way i n which they are communicated, I w i l l devote some time to t h i s and go through the serie s i n roughly the order i n which novices learn i t , rather ;. than the order provided by the narrative flow of the cycle i t s e l f : as we s h a l l see, the sequence i s d i f f e r e n t i n each case. This portion of the cycle deals with the r e l a t i o n s between Afek and her younger brother, Umoim; i n the context of the o v e r a l l cycle i t s e l f they are contiguous episodes and a l l pe r t a i n to the time period shortly a f t e r the founding of T e l e f o l i p . This i s the time of T e l e f o l culture on the threshold. The f i r s t component of the se r i e s (and hence the l e a s t e s o t e r i c and furthest removed from the true magam) i s taught to the boys i n the dagasal ban and provides an account of why i t i s that men have the yolam which A f e k — a woman—originally b u i l t ; the topic i s c l e a r l y germane to the business of the ban for the boys have been segregated from the women and have entered the yolam for the f i r s t time. 404 Long before the couple (agam: applies to brother and s i s t e r before marriage, but to husband and wife a f t e r marriage), Afek the elder s i s t e r and Umoim the younger brother, had b u i l t T e l e f o l i p . Umoim stayed i n the unangam (family house, l i t e r a l l y , 'woman house') and Afek stayed i n the T e l e f o l i p ( i . e . , the yolam). They stayed l i k e t h i s , but at night the pigs and the c h i l d r e n i n the unangam didn't s l e e p — t h e y squealed and c r i e d out at night.- A l l the time i t was l i k e t h i s , every night. Afek thought to h e r s e l f , "Bah! This i s no good, things can't go on l i k e t h i s ". Then she decided that she and Umoim should exchange p l a c e s — s h e would sleep i n the unangam and Umoim would sleep i n the T e l e f o l i p . She decided t h i s and then t o l d Umoim about t h i s . She t o l d him she'd l e f t her feathers and decorations i n the yolam for him. When the sun was about to come up, she explained, he should get up and go outside and wash himself with the dew she c a l l e d 'stars' (biningok), then rub p i g grease a l l over hi s body, paint himself, and put on her decorations. Afterwards Umoim was to return to the yolam and stand i n the doorway i n the l i g h t of daybreak where she might look at him. That night Afek slept i n the unangam with the c h i l d r e n and , pigs while tmioim slept i n the yolam. For once a l l had a good night's s l e e p — t h e pigs and the c h i l d r e n did not s t i r and a l l was quiet, and Afek sl e p t soundly too. In the morning Umoim did as he had been instructed, and had made himself b e a u t i f u l , decorated i n paint and feathers with a boar's tusk i n h i s nasal septum. Afek took one look at him and was delighted. Clapping her hands together she said, "that's i t ! That's more l i k e i t , i t ' s r e a l l y good!". And so she decided that from then on men would have the yolam and women would stay in,the unangam with the pigs and c h i l d r e n . Here we see an example of the very widespread and paradoxical assertion that an exclusive men's c u l t was o r i g i n a l l y founded by a woman, and the story explains how i t i s that i t came into men's hands (cf. Bamberger 1974; Murphy and Murphy 1974; Newman 1965; Read 1952; Williams 1936). This i s , quite l i t e r a l l y , the dawn of men's co n t r o l of the yolam to the exclusion of women. Like a l l other Afek sang t h i s t a l e i s secret, and men say that i f a woman were to hear t h i s t a l e her b e l l y would swell up with a f a l s e pregnancy and she would die. But i n addition, men also say that should women hear t h i s , they would know that the yolam had o r i g i n a l l y been t h e i r s and that they would a l l want to take i t for themselves and stay there. To t h i s they also add that i t i s because of t h i s t a l e that women have most of the work of caring 4 0 5 for pigs and chi l d r e n , but that i t i s also because of t h i s that the men must do the often arduous work of performing bans. What else does the story have to t e l l ? It i s implied that Afek gave the yolam to Umoim because of some sort of d e f i c i e n c y — c h i l d r e n and pigs kept crying, perhaps for t h e i r mother. It i s as though Umoim was given the yolam and tol d to make himself pretty for h i s s i s t e r because he wasn't up to the job i n the unangam: Afek had to go there to set things r i g h t . Umoim got the yolam and beauty at the expense of being removed from the ch i l d r e n and pigs, the world of the unangam; from another angle, we might even see the yolam as a consolation p r i z e i n compensation for t h i s e v i c t i o n though (natural l y enough) men never speak of things i n t h i s way. Here t h i s i s p a r t i c u l a r l y apposite i n the case of the boys who hear the t a l e f o r the f i r s t time i n the dagasal ban, for they have j u s t been f o r c i b l y taken from t h e i r mothers and w i l l no longer be c h i l d r e n i n the same sense. In exchange for t h i s , they w i l l have the p r i v i l e g e s of the yolam and become b e a u t i f u l , ultimately the g i f t of Afek, the f i r s t woman; a g i f t whose source must be kept hidden l e s t women reclaim i t . F i n a l l y , i t i s possible to see how t h i s t a l e i s a r e l a t i v e l y straightforward charter for the dagasal ban i t s e l f : the novices leave the unangam for the yolam, are instruct e d i n the regimen of r i s i n g before dawn to wash with dew and paint themselves, and must learn to remain s t i l l and q u i e t — j u s t as happened with the c h i l d r e n and pigs once Afek and Umoim had exchanged. Here, i n terms of the dagasal ban, we can also catch a glimpse of some underlying implications of the t a l e i n s t r u c t u r a l terms: the separation between male and female i s maintained, and i n the narrative t h i s i s also the separation between brother and s i s t e r despite the incestuous implications of Afek's admiration of Umoim's beauty. Further, when Afek and Umoim change places, the cont r o l of the yolam passes not only from s i s t e r to brother or female to male; i t also passes from senior to j u n i o r . 406 The next episode of the s e r i e s of tales about Afek and Umoim i s generally learned during the course of the 077? ban and i s a t a l e r e l a t i n g how i t i s that Afek sent the wild animals away from T e l e f o l i p . Once again t h i s applies to the period a f t e r the founding of the v i l l a g e , but i n the order of the na r r a t i v e cycle i t takes place before the episode of Afek and Umoim changing places. The story goes l i k e t h i s : Afek and Umoim the two of them stayed at T e l e f o l i p . One morning Afek t o l d Umoim to take up h i s bow and arrows and go o f f into the bush to f i n d game, Umoim did as he was t o l d , and spent the day i n the f o r e s t looking for wild animals. He looked and looked, but wherever he went he only found the tracks of a n i m a l s — t h e animals themselves were nowhere to be seen. In the afternoon he returned to T e l e f o l i p where he found Afek cooking some wild pig and cassox^ary (both forbidden to women) . This was for t h e i r meal, and as he sat down to j o i n her Umoim .was curious and asked her where she had found these t h i n g s — h e had been looking a l l day i n the forest and had found nothing. "Oh, j u s t nearby," she r e p l i e d . The next morning Umoim went out again into the forest and came back again i n the afternoon empty-handed. Again, when he returned, he found his elder s i s t e r cooking more meat. Once again he asked, but received the same reply. F i n a l l y , Umoim thought to himself that he would discover where his s i s t e r had found t h i s game—he resented working hard and going through the bush a l l day and yet f i n d i n g nothing himself. The next morning Umoim set o f f for the f o r e s t as usual, but he only went a l i t t l e way, j u s t up to I l i n t i g i n (the h i l l j u s t north of T e l e f o l i p where mafuum ban i n i t i a t e s are beaten and painted). There he concealed himself i n the bush and watched from a spot where he could see h i s s i s t e r i n T e l e f o l i p . He watched and soon he could see h i s s i s t e r c a l l i n g out. As she did so, a l l the animals from the b u s h — w i l d pigs and cassowaries—came near to her. She held out a cucumber and a cassowary came, she held out taro and a wild p i g came. She c a l l e d them and they came near and then she k i l l e d them by h i t t i n g them with a piece of firewood. This time, however, they were nervous and reluctant and came only h e s i t a n t l y . The animals she k i l l e d t h i s time were not large, they were bony. Then she knew her brother was spying on her. She t o l d a l l the animals to run away and scatter into the bush. When Umoim returned he said nothing to Afek, but she knew. Then she t o l d him that because of him men would have to go far into the bush and work hard to f i n d meat. Then the two of them sat down and ate. This i s one of the key myths of T e l e f o l culture, and i n t h i s b r i e f p l o t i t manages to weave together several c e n t r a l themes into a compact statement. The male-female dichotomy i s present i n the i n t e r p l a y between elder s i s t e r and younger brother, a r e l a t i o n also implying differences i n knowledge and maturity. We also f i n d the theme of the separation of nature and culture embodied i n the overt topic of the t a l e , the s c a t t e r i n g of wild animals away from the v i l l a g e and into the b u s h — t h i s i s simultaneously part of the continuing discourse on entropy, here the l o s s of ready game and meat that w i l l only be recovered through hard work. S i g n i f i c a n t l y , t h i s i s a loss brought about through a transgression, a c u r i o s i t y about things that should remain hidden ( r e c a l l i n g that amem means secret and sacred, forbidden) and what may be perhaps too close an intimacy between brother and s i s t e r . F i n a l l y — t h o u g h the import i s not immediately apparent—something i s being said here about nurturing and k i l l i n g , since Afek k i l l s the wild animals by nurturing them—she holds out food to them and i s able to k i l l them merely by s t r i k i n g them with firewood, a f i g u r a t i v e "weapon of the hearth". This conjunction of nurturing and k i l l i n g has almost the q u a l i t y of a seduction, since even the d e t a i l s about the food offered carry sexual overtones: cucumbers, as we have already seen,, have male associations, and Afek lures the symbolically feminine cassowary by holding out a cucumber; taro, by contrast, c a r r i e s l a r g e l y feminine associations, and i t i s with t h i s that Afek lures the symbolically masculine wild pig to i t s death. Curiously, t h i s embodies a formal transformation of white (the f l e s h of cucumbers and taro) to red (the f l e s h of cassowaries and wild p i g s ) ; Afek i s performing a conversion of vegetables into meat by turning nurturing into k i l l i n g . Here the t a l e r a i s e s the p o s s i b i l i t y — i n d e e d , asserts i t as a r e a l i t y of the beginning of t h i n g s — that the c o n t r a d i c t i o n between nurturing and k i l l i n g i s more complicated than at f i r s t suspected. Here too the point w i l l be underscored when youths subsequently learn that Afek was the cassowary F i t i l k a n i p , f or i t i s cassowaries that she k i l l s . 408 Afek's e x p l o i t a t i o n of nurturing for the purposes of k i l l i n g (and then the nurturing of her younger brother)'—a kind of "closed cycle"—succeeds only under conditions of secrecy, only, that i s , i f i t remains hidden and unsuspected by her younger brother. Here one might almost say that Umoim was only to see the kuuk while Afek knew the magcan. The success depends on the separation of elder sister and younger brother, the distancing of female and male, elder from junior. The animals w i l l only come to Afek to be k i l l e d i f her brother i s away, and if he does not know. Here, p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y , we might add that i n T e l e f o l to s e e — u t a m a m i n — i s simultaneously to know, and also to know i n the B i b l i c a l sense. The i n i t i a l s i t u a t i o n between Umoim and Afek i s a c l a s s i c example of what Roy Wagner (1979) has c a l l e d male contingency and female s u f f i c i e n c y : i t i s c l e a r that Afek could manage quite well on her own, but Umoim would have more trouble making h i s way i n the world. That t h i s f l i e s i n the face of the overt ideology of male supremacy i n Telefolmin i s c r i t i c a l , but something about which I w i l l not comment for now. In any event, here we f i n d an echo of a s i t u a t i o n only hinted at i n the f i r s t n a r r a t i v e of the s e r i e s : Umoim was the "weak s i s t e r " of the two. The turning point of the plo t i s when Umoim chafes at h i s i n e f f e c t u a l i t y and h i s ignorance: he walks a l l day i n the fo r e s t , but for a l l the game he sees, he may as well be without h i s arrows, f o r they have no use. Umoim wants to know. He spies on his s i s t e r , he wants to know how to get meat for himself. This i s of course disobedience, and a species of hubris: Umoim wants to arrogate to himself that which belongs to Afek. Here i t seems p l a i n that he i s motivated by jealousy, and what Telefolmin would regard as greed. And so he takes a peek, he wants i n a sense to be grown up, he looks at h i s s i s t e r when he shouldn't—here we might r e c a l l that hunters are forbidden to have intercourse j u s t p r i o r to the hunt, nor are gardeners allowed to copulate with t h e i r wives before they plant taro. 409 Umoim gets hi s wish, but i t i s s e l f - d e f e a t i n g , The cost i s that he must now se r i o u s l y work hard to f i n d game, for once he has seen what i s forbidden, the Eden-like state of a f f a i r s i s disrupted. He knows too much, to h i s regret. Again, p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y i t might be added that men say that Afek was not only angry when Umoim spied on h e r — s h e experienced shame (fitom), the c l a s s i c a l T e l e f o l response to which i s distancing or avoidance, and here she sends the animals away. Umoim i s no longer dependent upon Afek, but he i s s t i l l dependent—now, upon himself. I t was simple, one or the other: e i t h e r Umoim stayed away from Afek and the animals came near, or else Umoim got (too) close to Afek and the animals had to leave. If we compare t h i s t a l e to the previous one about the g i f t of the yolam to Umoim, we can see that the youths who are t o l d these s t o r i e s - a r e given a d i f f e r e n t understanding of how things were i n the beginning. In the f i r s t t a l e the o r i g i n a l arrangement'—Afek i n the T e l e f o l i p and Umoim i n the unangam — d i d n ' t work out, and things were changed so that they became as they are now, and t h i s was a s a t i s f a c t o r y a l t e r a t i o n of the s i t u a t i o n . The most general message of the f i r s t myth, then, i s that e a r l i e r things were askew, but now they've been put r i g h t . This i s contradicted by the import of the second myth of the s e r i e s , since i n the beginning things were as men would l i k e to have them today, i f only they could. That i s , of course, i f they didn't have gardens to worry about, because now i f wild pigs come close at hand i t s p e l l s trouble for the taro crop.... As i t i s , the myth of Afek, Umoim, and the wild animals suggests that once men had things easy, and that t h i s was negated by greed i n the form of the desire to know that which was amem. It i s a message that Telefolmin f i n d worth repeating, The next myth of the serie s i s one that i s revealed during the course of the iman ban. I t i s a t a l e that explains something of Umoim, who i s the Oolkupmen, and also accounts f o r the o r i g i n of bonang, the small 410 ccwrie s h e l l s used as bridewealth valuables, and of fubi, the stone adzes with which Telefolmin downed the for e s t to make t h e i r gardens. The context i s appropriate since the major task of the iman ban i s the enhancement of prod u c t i v i t y . This i s the story: Afek got a piece of food that Umoim had l e f t over from a meal and worked tamoon sorcery on him. She made a tamoon packet with t h i s food and tightened the cord around i t . Umoim f e l l s i c k f o r f i v e nights, and on the s i x t h he died. Afek prepared an exposure platform f or him while she l e f t h i s body i n the unangam. She made the platform i n a spot down near the Ok I f i , She put Umoim on t h i s and l e f t h i s f l e s h to r o t . She waited u n t i l the twelfth day. Then she got some leaves and rubbish from asop (a garden green c a l l e d pitpit i n Pidgin) and brought i t to where Umoim lay. She took t h i s , broke i t into pieces, and spread, i t out over h i s skin. Then she went back to the v i l l a g e to sleep, and when she returned to look at Umoim1s corpse the maggots had r e a l l y gotten into him, crawling a l l over and through him. She went back to the v i l l a g e to sleep and came back to have another look, and there were even more maggots. She did t h i s again the next day, and when she returned there were more maggots s t i l l . His skin and f l e s h had a l l broken up and f a l l e n to the earth, and only h i s bones (kun = strength, bones) remained. Then Afek took up her netbag and got a cucumber and'rubbed her skin with i t . She took a suum aatab banana and l e a f , and l i n e d t h i s bag with the l e a f . Then she k i l l e d a domestic p i g and rendered i t s grease, and then made a f i r e and cooked some red ochre (bagan). When she had done a l l these things she went back to the exposure platform and took Umoim's bones— j u s t h i s head and h i s r i g h t forearm. She rubbed them with pig grease and painted them with ochre and then put them i n a n e t b a g — t h i s became a men amem, the Oolkupmen, and she took t h i s back to th e i r unangam i n T e l e f o l i p ( i . e . , Bisanip's house, through which a l l Telefolmin pass en route to Bagelam, the land of the dead). She took t h i s netbag to the house, and Umoim's sinik l e f t — s h e had t o l d him to go make the underground road for the dead, bagelilep. When Umoim l e f t , he to l d Afek to wait for him u n t i l he returned. Afek waited for s i x nights,- and on the s i x t h night one of Umoim's bones broke. On the seventh night she set o f f for Umoim's house i n Bagelam. When she ar r i v e d at h i s house he wasn't t h e r e — t h e f i r e i n the hearth was dead and he'd gone o f f int o the bush. Afek looked around f o r something with which to cut wood to b u i l d a f i r e to warm h e r s e l f . Inside there were many fubi blades l y i n g around, and she took up one of these and went o f f to chop some wood. This blade, however, was a new one—Umoim hadn't cooked i t yet and i t was s t i l l s o f t , i t hadn't hardened. When Afek t r i e d to use i t , i t broke, and now elder s i s t e r became a f r a i d . She took the blade back to Umoim's house and replaced i t and then sat down to wait f o r her younger brother. When Umoim got back Afek t o l d him what she had done and how the adze broke, Umoim became angry and said , "I didn't c a l l f o r you to come yet, but you came ju s t the same! You came, and now you've ruined my work! You should have waited u n t i l I had f i n i s h e d f i r s t . Now the road i s ruined and your c h i l d r e n won't be able to come and v i s i t me. When people die t h e y ' l l come h e r e — t h e y ' l l rot and come here, and that w i l l be that. You've spoiled the road, and the l i v i n g won't be able to come and see them now." When he spoke l i k e t h i s to Afek, there was nothing she could say, she was speechless (weng binim) and ashamed (fitom tebesu). The two of them slept i n h i s house that night and the next day he sent her back to T e l e f o l i p . He t o l d her to wait for him there, and on the s i x t h night he would return. And so Afek went to T e l e f o l i p to await him. The s i x t h day came, and Afek awaited Umoim i n T e l e f o l i p , but he didn't come. She waited for him on the seventh day and he didn't come. F i n a l l y , on the ninth day, she decided to go to her garden i n Mofumkot. When she l e f t she neglected to t e l l her c h i l d r e n that t h e i r mother's brother (3rd pers ogot, 1st pers moom) might come to v i s i t them, and she forgot to warn them not to look at h i s skin. Umoim came that day, and when he a r r i v e d , he asked the c h i l d r e n where t h e i r mother was. They to l d him that a f t e r waiting for a long time for him she went o f f to her garden i n Mofumkot. Hearing t h i s , Umoim decided that he would wait for h i s s i s t e r and sun himself i n the plaza. When he sat down, he said to the c h i l d r e n , "there's something on my s k i n — i n my h a i r — t h a t makes me i t c h . W i l l you come here and see what i t i s ? " . The c h i l d r e n came and Umoim bent h i s head down for them to look, and when they did, they shouted, " a i ! Uncle! there are maggots (Hop, maam tun) there i n your h a i r , l o t s of them! Your skin i s rotten with them!". When Umoim heard them say t h i s he was angry and ashamed. He t o l d Afek's c h i l d r e n to close t h e i r eyes and when they opened them he had turned into a bisan b i r d with a long t a i l , and he perched on the eaves of Afek's unangam. "Afek oo-o! Your c h i l d r e n said bad things to me oo-o!" he c r i e d out s h r i l l y . He c a l l e d out l i k e t h i s , and Afek heard him i n her garden. She came running up to T e l e f o l i p u n t i l she was out of breath, and when she a r r i v e d she saw Umoim perched on the rooftop. " A i ! You can't go," she sa i d : "the c h i l d r e n were l y i n g to you—come down!". But Umoim refused. Afek pleaded with him, saying, "I thought i t would be good i f you were to come back to v i s i t — w e could s i t down together and t a l k " . But Umoim was unmoved. He t o l d her that he had wanted to come back, but Afek's c h i l d r e n shamed him and so he would have to leave. She pleaded and pleaded with him, but i t was no use. Umoim flew up into the branches of the yet tree (wild f i g ) next to the v i l l a g e . Afek c a l l e d to him again, but he flew up to the top of the oVLi (hoop pine) behind the 412 yolam, and she s t i l l c a l l e d f o r him to come back. Then he simply c r i e d out i n h i s b i r d voice and flew o f f to the west beyond Ulapmin, He was gone. When he had gone, Afek turned to her c h i l d r e n and said, "you said bad things to your uncle and now he has gone away because you shamed him. Now, when people die, they won't be able to come back to v i s i t you. From now on, when people die, they w i l l not have bodies, there w i l l only be t h e i r sinik, t h i s i s a l l that w i l l be l e f t " . And there was more she sa i d : "When you looked at your uncle, a l l you saw were the maggots, but these weren't j u s t maggots, they were bonang. Now the dead won't bring bonang back for you, and you can't go to Bagelam yourselves to get them. I myself have barred that road. Now you can only get bonang i f you go o f f to Bultem and give things for them." This i s one of the r i c h e s t narratives of the T e l e f o l r e p e r t o i r e , i t i s the magam of many things, and i s at once poignant i n the f a i l u r e of even Afek's entreaties to persuade her dead brother to remain. I t i s a t a l e not simply of mortality, but of the severence of the dead from the l i v i n g (cf. S c h i e f f e l i n 1976; Wagner 1979, 1972; see also the s i m i l a r T e l e f o l t a l e of the four brothers i n the previous chapter). Entropy i s summarized here, the s e r i e s of losses which become man's l o t are a l l engendered by the action of the p l o t . The t a l e i s so dense that i t seems best to begin slowly and simply by l i s t i n g , i n turn, the various things for which i t i s the magam. Right at the beginning we have the introduction of tamoon sorcery, which comes into existence with Afek's d e c i s i o n to k i l l her brother. More d e t a i l e d renderings of t h i s n a r r a t i v e include a comprehensive "how-to-do-it" recipe for t h i s form of sorcery. In t h i s case, one of the things that Afek does i s to take a packet of meat leavings from one of Umoim's meals and place i t near a hearth, or, i n another version, i n her vagina. In t h i s way she k i l l s him, and t h i s i s accomplished both by transforming nurturing (a meal they shared) into death, and by introducing part of her brother's food into h e r s e l f . Here tamoon becomes dangerous ( i f e f f i c a c i o u s ) not simply, as we might suspect, because Afek's vagina i s i n i t s e l f powerful and 'hot' (mamiin-so), though 413 t h i s i s t r u e — i t i s also a matter of performing a f i g u r a t i v e incest and cannibalism by proxy (see the discussion of dubung magam above). Thus she transforms two sources of l i f e — f o o d and her vagina-—into instruments of death, and i n a sense nurturing and k i l l i n g have become the same thing. In the opening phases of the t a l e we thus have tamoon magam—the o r i g i n and meaning of t h i s form of sorcery—and a commentary once more on the d i a l e c t i c of nurturing and k i l l i n g . The next thing that happens i s that Afek constructs a mortuary platform diet) f o r Umoim, and t h i s i s the magam of mortuary practices involving the exposure of the corpse. This Afek invents, and when Telefolmin dispose of the dead i n t h i s way they follow her. At f i r s t the corpse doesn't ro t , and she must take steps to see that t h i s occurs, f or otherwise she w i l l be unable to pursue her intentions, one of which i s the r e t r i e v a l of h i s bones to. make a men amem—the t a l e i s the magam of t h i s as well. His meat rots and i s gone, but his bones remain, and t h i s i s what becomes the Oolkupmen used i n the iman ban. When t h i s has taken place, Afek sends Umoim off to clear the underground track to the west, where he w i l l e s t a b l i s h Bagelam, the underworld land of the dead. Now the dead w i l l have someplace to go when they die. But there i s more to i t than t h i s , for Afek also intends f o r Umoim to go so that there w i l l be fubi adzes and bonang cowries. Up to t h i s point a l l has gone according to Afek's plan. But she becomes impatient to v i s i t Umoim i n Bagelam, and her premature v i s i t r e s u l t s i n the breakage of one of the fubi that Umoim has made—it was asit (raw) and kamaa (new), i t had not yet been cooked and hardened. This portion of the t a l e i s both the fubi magam and the explanation (also magam) of why i t i s that fubi break and can only be acquired i n d i r e c t l y through exchange from the Opkeemin people ( i . e . , those around Bultem) to the west, who l i e between Telefolmin and Bagelam. Here what might have been good—a d i r e c t supply of adzes—has been v i t i a t e d by Afek's premature v i s i t to Umoim. She f a i l e d to 414 keep/her distance, and here we f i n d an echo of Umoim's spying on Afek i n the t a l e of the wild animals. In both cases improper contact leads to the loss of that which i s sought. The upshot of t h i s passage i s that Afek i s sent back to T e l e f o l i p , and Umoim forbids the l i v i n g to come to Bagelam to v i s i t . Afek returns, and though i t i s not mentioned i n t h i s p a r t i c u l a r version, she comes back with the broken fubi—this fubi, which i s huge despite being broken i n two, i s buried on eit h e r side of the entranceway to the track to Bagelam under the hearth of Afek and Umoim's unangam, the house which i s in h e r i t e d by Afek's daughters i n T e l e f o l i p . This marks the path, and should any of the l i v i n g be so f o o l i s h as to t r y to descend into Bagelam by t h i s route they w i l l be crushed between the two pieces of the blade. When Afek returns to T e l e f o l i p she waits with her c h i l d r e n f o r Umoim, but she i s once again impatient. This time, instead of rushing o ff to see Umoim, she leaves for her Mofumkot g a r d e n s — t h i s , i n c i d e n t a l l y , i n v i o l a t i o n of the conventional p r o h i b i t i o n on gardening immediately following a death. The v i l l a g e i s thus empty, except for Afek's c h i l d r e n , who are ignorant of what i s going on. When Umoim does return, Afek i s not there to greet him but instead has allowed her i n t e r e s t i n gardening to d i s t r a c t her and draw her away. Umoim comes and v i s i t s b r i e f l y with the ch i l d r e n , and then mentions h i s i t c h i n g . This i s understood as an i n v i t a t i o n to the chi l d r e n to delouse him, and normally would pass without comment. But instead of l i c e , the c h i l d r e n f i n d maggots (Hop) . Unbeknownst to them, these maggots are r e a l l y bonang, and Umoim's i n v i t a t i o n to them was a kind of weng doo, a hint or a r i d d l e . But they f a i l e d to see what he was saying, and so instead of removing the bonang as g i f t s for themselves—as was i n t e n d e d — they instead proclaim openly what t h e i r eyes see. Here p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y , i s encapsulated a compact but profound commentary on the nature of knowledge. To hear i n T e l e f o l (tinangkamin) i s also to understand, and to see (utamamin) i s also to know, but these a c t i v i t i e s of one's sinik ought normally to be 415 accompanied by thinking (aget fukunin) , which also means 'consideration' i n the sense of considering the f e e l i n g s of others. To be f o o l i s h or i n s e n s i t i v e or thoughtless i s to be deaf (tolong binim, 'no ears') or to be b l i n d (tiin binim, 'no eyes', tiin kubabesu, 'covered eyes', tiin suuk, 'cross-eyed'). But i n the t a l e we learn that to hear i s not always to understand—Umoim's words are l o s t on them—and that to see i s not always to know, for t h e i r eyes only see part of the t r u t h . What they see are the tokens of death without r e a l i z i n g that t h i s i s the g i f t that Umoim's death brought them. This i s , i n f a c t , the c r i t i c a l turning point of the narr a t i v e , i t i s bonang magam, the source and meaning of cowries, and i t manages to speak volumes i n a few words. At one l e v e l , a l l the c h i l d r e n have done i s to say what they saw. What they say i s , "moom! Maam tun eel Hop kunesib ko yal"— "uncle! Maggots, they eat you!". This i s weng mafak, bad speech, and i s one of the gravest i n s u l t s i n the T e l e f o l r e p e r t o i r e , something l i k e t e l l i n g someone they are rotten, should drop dead, and go to h e l l , a l l at once. Husbands have been known to divorce or even k i l l wives who say t h i s to them. This i s not only i n s u l t i n g , but shaming—here doubly so, for i n f a c t maggots do eat Umoim, and t h i s thoughtless i n d i s c r e t i o n — a proclamation of what was apparent but should have remained concealed—not only r e s u l t s i n the loss of bonang but forces Umoim to leave. This departure—which encompasses the irrevocable separation of the dead from the l i v i n g — i s a l l the stronger, f or Umoim becomes transformed, no longer a human l i k e themselves. The estrangement i s complete and—although t h i s i s nowhere commented upon i n the n a r r a t i v e — a l l that remains i s a bag with h i s bones. The sinik ('soul', 'personality', 'shadow', 'image', ' r e f l e c t i o n ' , fphysiognomy, face') may l i n g e r , i n the form of an usong—the person himself i s gone, l o s t , and magato (.'hidden', 'unseen', 'unknown', ' i n v i s i b l e ' , 'dead', ' l o s t ' , 'disappeared'). 416 The blindness and ignorance of the c h i l d r e n and their, f a i l u r e to understand UmoiTn's words r e s u l t i n h i s r e f u s a l to l i s t e n to Afek and t h e i r permanent i n a b i l i t y to see (also,, to know, and to v i s i t ) Umoim. Here, c e r t a i n l y , t h e i r speech takes on the form of an untoward d i s c l o s u r e , reminiscent of the denouement of the t a l e of the youth who unsuccessfully t r i e d to bring h i s brothers back to l i f e . This r e c a l l s a d e l i g h t f u l expression i n German "vevschrei es nioht!"—don't scream i t away!"—which i s a caution against saying too much and thereby l o s i n g what one has or wishes to have. Here the theme of shame i s evident, and shame (fitom) i n Telefolmin ultimately turns upon the p u b l i c i z a t i o n of what should be kept hidden, a v i o l a t i o n of i n t e g r i t y and the proper distance between people, restored only through separation or seclusion (compare Wagner's treatment of the "azuna conclusion" i n D a r i b i myth, 1979:150, 166f). There i s , however, an a d d i t i o n a l im p l i c a t i o n : t h e i r error i n speaking was to a r t i c u l a t e what they saw (knew) i n words that both revealed and b e l i e d the truth of what they saw. By saying what they d i d , they denied the i d e n t i t y between bonang and maggots and the i d e n t i t y between (the dead) Umoim and h i s l i v i n g r e l a t i v e s . If we step back from the d i f f e r e n t fragments of the t a l e and try to assess i t as a whole i t i s clear that aside from the various d e t a i l s which serve as charters or precedents we have an account which presents a statement of man's l o t : there i s death and mortality, a severence between the l i v i n g and the dead. Flesh r o t s , 4ead.v:gs.«ancUiaowrsfceft.-may-- only, be obtained i n d i r e c t l y through exchange. This i s entropy, the movement towards d i s s i p a t i o n , decay and nothingness. This i s the major implication of the t a l e , a sort of catalogue of l i f e ' s problems. But there i s a counter-current within i t as well, for the t a l e also provides for the means that men have to work against t h i s general flow-—they have men amem, fubi, bonang. If i n the f a r past entropy didn't pose problems, i f things were or might have been otherwise, men aren't helpless. They have men amem, the tools for bans and the dead 417 who may, i n t h i s way, be recovered; they have fubi, the tools for c l e a r i n g the f o r e s t and making gardens; they have bonang, the tools f o r making good the los s of s i s t e r s and the means of securing wives and producing the c h i l d r e n who w i l l replace one a f t e r one has died. Perhaps then i t i s appropriate that youths l e a r n t h i s i n the iman ban, whose main emphasis i s production, where they are given adzes and see Umoim revealed wearing bonang, where men dress i n t h e i r f i n e r y and become l i k e usong, and where they are showered with white ash that hastens t h e i r aging, where they become b e a u t i f u l and a t t r a c t i v e to women.... There i s one part of the myth of Afek and Umoim and bonang magam that remains puzzling: why did Afek k i l l him? Here one of the answers provided i s that she wanted to acquire h i s bones for a men amem to be used to help gardens; that she wanted him to make a place f or the dead; that he should return from that place Xvdth fubi and bonang so that men might make gardens and marry. But none of these are t r u l y s a t i s f a c t o r y as answers, since they are i n a sense replies to the question posed by Umoim''s death. They do not seem r e a l l y to account for the question i n the f i r s t place, and i n a sense none of these things might have been necessary i f Afek hadn't k i l l e d him. The question i s the topic of the next and f i n a l myth i n the Afek and Umoim s e r i e s . This too i s learned i n the iman ban and concerns i t s e l f with the o r i g i n of taro, iman magam: Afek and Umoim the two of them stayed together at T e l e f o l i p . Afek would send Umoim away from the v i l l a g e to look for game. He always went but found nothing, he only saw tracks; when he came back Afek always had meat to cook for them. She had sent him away because she was doing work that she didn't want him to see, i t was amem. Afek bore several things: f i r s t she bore tobaa, the one we plant around the yotam and i n the gardens. This came from her menstrual blood (nok isak) whose amem name i s tobaal—women must never know what t h i s name means. After that, she bore a human c h i l d , Tobaa i s the elder brother and man i s the younger brother, tobaa looks a f t e r men. Then she f e l t sorry that the c h i l d had nothing to eat, so she bore taro from her urine and vaginal secretions (imaan and nok kul). She bore much taro, but the f i r s t two were daughters of hers, One we c a l l iman tobaal, because i t was mixed with her menstrual blood. This i s the one we leave to remain i n the garden, and her secret name i s KwiinBuson, 'greens at d u s k ' — t h i s i s amem, and women and ch i l d r e n must not know about her. Otherwise she would become ashamed and run away. This taro i s amem, and i s only for old men to eat. After she gave b i r t h to KwiinBuson she gave b i r t h to her younger s i s t e r , so men would have a clean taro to eat. She i s DanBuson, 'greens at sunrise'. Her name too i s amem—if women or c h i l d r e n knew about her, she would run away and take a l l the other taro with her. DanBuson .came from Afek's nok kul only, there was no blood; DanBuson already ran away once. Men would scrape her skin and put her i n the f i r e and hurt her, they would eat her, t h e i r younger s i s t e r . She said to her s i s t e r KwiinBuson, "they hurt us s o — l e t us run away and leave them". Kwiinbuson the elder said, "no— i f we leave them they w i l l die—what else w i l l they eat?". But DanBuson ran away anyway. Afek wanted to bring her back, for she worried for her c h i l d r e n . She asked a l l the animals to help, but none of them could f i n d her. Then she asked nuk kuyaam, the clever one, to bring her back. Kuyaam agreed, and he found her hiding i n the bush. But he didn't bring her back, he was a t h i e f . He put her i n h i s pouch and then went down deep into a hole i n the ground, Nangalamtem, below T e l e f o l i p . There he kept her to himself. Afek knew what he had done, and she asked a l l the animals to go a f t e r him and bring DanBuson back. One a f t e r the other, they a l l went down into Nangalamtem to bring DanBuson back. But kuyaam was hard and hot with them. He was bi g , and many of the animals were a f r a i d of him. He was f i e r c e and would keep them away. F i n a l l y kayaam, Dog, said he would go and . bring DanBuson back to T e l e f o l i p . He went down to Nangalamtem, and when he got there he spoke to kuyaam. He didn't t r y to get DanBuson back r i g h t away, he waited and tr i c k e d kuyaam. Kayaam said to kuyaam, " l e t us be f r i e n d s — I didn't come down here to cause you.trouble, I ju s t came to v i s i t you". He l i e d to kuyaam l i k e t h i s , and smiled and showed h i s teeth. They talked for some time, and eventually kuyaam was o f f guard. Then, quickly, kayaam seized kuyaam with h i s long teeth and grabbed DanBuson. Then he c a r r i e d the two of them back to Afek i n T e l e f o l i p . To kayaam she sai d , "men w i l l eat other animals, but they w i l l never eat you". Later, when she scattered the wild animals into the fo r e s t , she l e t kayaam peek so that he could f i n d them i n the bush. To kuyaam she said , "women w i l l stay away from you", and so women may not eat kuyaam. Then they were a l l together again i n T e l e f o l i p . Men, tobaa, and taro are a l l s i b l i n g s , and t h i s i s why we plant them together i n the gardens, so they may stay together and help each other. Afek kept a l l of these things hidden from Umoim, I f he came close or saw them, they wouldn't work—they were amem. When Umoim went off into the bush, then she would do her work. After he l e f t she would go underneath the T e l e f o l i p . At t h i s time i t wasn't fenced, i t was open (kem). She went 419 there and then would crouch down and l i f t her s k i r t , revealing her vagin a — s h e was naked (nok kem, 'open/ v i s i b l e vagina'). She would be there and then her nok kul would flow, and from t h i s she got taro. Some of th i s she would form with her hands, and t h i s would be taro for men to eat. Some of t h i s remained s o f t , and t h i s was l i k e sago. This she held out for the wild animals to eat, and they came when she c a l l e d . Wild pigs would come up and eat her nok kul. Then she would take a piece of firewood and h i t them and they would die. Even huge ferocious wild pigs would come up—they weren't a f r a i d , they came to get her nok kul and would hear when she c a l l e d them. In t h i s way Afek and Umoim and a l l of Afek's c h i l d r e n had plenty to eat. But Umoim looked and sax^ Afek—he saw her vagina. Then the animals became a f r a i d and Afek was shamed. She became angry and ashamed and'', to Id the animals to run away and taro no longer came from her vagina. Then men had to work hard to hunt and to plant taro gardens. The c h i l d r e n and the pigs c r i e d and c r i e d because now they were hungry. Then Afek decided that she had to go to them to look a f t e r them. She could not stay i n the T e l e f o l i p because she had a vagina and was ashamed. Then she gave t h i s to Umoim. Later, she took some meat that he had eaten and k i l l e d him with t h i s because he had spoiled her work. Here, then, i s the discl o s u r e of the source of taro and the re v e l a t i o n of Afek's motivation i n sc a t t e r i n g the wild animals from T e l e f o l i p -and i n k i l l i n g Umoim. This i s the knowledge which i s most sacred and must be kept s e c r e t — i f i t i s revealed, taro, pigs, women, and c h i l d r e n w i l l run away; wild pigs w i l l come and destroy the gardens, and enemies w i l l come and k i l l men as though they were pigs. This i s the myth that contains the magam—the others of the Afek-Umoim s e r i e s are the kuuk. It i s i n t h i s s e n s e — i f a part may be taken f o r the whole—that a l l of the t a l e s of the Afek cycle are one large t a l e . Each of the episodes reveals truths, but the truths they reveal are not always the same. Or rather, they are the same, but d i f f e r e n t . Here we should not be led astray and mistake the means for the end. Each of the myths, i n one way or another, i s a rather simple-minded charter i n the Malinowskian sense. But i t i s a serious error or c o n f u s i o n — t h e sort of cross-eyedness suggested i n the story of Umoim's encounter with Afek's c h i l d r e n i n T e l e f o l i p — t o mistake t h i s 420 as any but.the most s u p e r f i c i a l of lessons embodied i n the myths. Here we must not be deaf or b l i n d to the f a c t that far from merely endorsing and authorizing the " r e a l i t i e s " of the everyday w o r l d — e s p e c i a l l y as presented by overt i d e o l o g y — t h e sacred and secret Afek sang docmuchUmo.re-.K They are not simply d i s t i l l e d " r e f l e c t i o n s " or "models" or "representations" of the world as experienced or given. Rather, they are r e f l e c t i o n s i n a more profound sense, a sense i n which the given terms of experience are challenged and c a l l e d into question. They are commentaries upon the terms of experience: they confront i t , and i n a sense they shape i t , but they do not simply reproduce i t . Consider, for example, the implciations of the t a l e of iman magam i n terms of the understanding of a l l the previous t a l e s of the s e r i e s . In the t a l e f i r s t learned, Afek i s the founder of the men's c u l t , but turns i t over to her brother. This i s so merely because the a l t e r n a t i v e arrangement was u n s a t i s f a c t o r y — p i g s and c h i l d r e n kept crying. The second t a l e explains the d i s p e r s a l of game i n the bush—not altogether a bad thing, from the perspective of a gardener—because Afek's secret feeding and k i l l i n g of the animals was discovered by her brother. Moving to the next nar r a t i v e , Afek invents sorcery and k i l l s her brother, r e s u l t i n g i n death for a l l men. Umoim then produces the means i n d i r e c t l y (his bones) or d i r e c t l y (bonang and fubi) by which men 'might counter m o r t a l i t y and entropy, but these are compromised by the i n d i s c r e t i o n s of Afek (a woman) and small c h i l d r e n . Here I am merely following one of the many threads of the myths, those that are i m p l i c i t l y r e l a t e d to an ideology of male supremacy. But look what happens then with the f i n a l r e v e l a t i o n , the magam of t h i s s e r i e s : a l l the previous narratives are pre-empted and encompassed and t h e i r contents remain i n t a c t while t h e i r r e l a t i o n to each other becomes transformed. Now we can see that, among other things, the opening l i n e of the p l o t i s Umoim's spying on Afek, a desire for knowledge that has c l e a r l y incestuous overtones and r e s u l t s not only i n the 4 2 1 f l i g h t of game but i n the loss of Afek's a b i l i t y to produce taro d i r e c t l y from her vagina. Now the hard work of both hunting and gardening are necessary, plenty i s no longer assured. And t h i s i s why the c h i l d r e n and pigs cry, because Umoim's transgression resulted i n the loss of meat and taro. Shamed and hindered by Umoim, Afek turns over the T e l e f o l i p to him. But he (and a l l men) w i l l be repaid, and Afek k i l l s him, p a r t l y i n r e t a l i a t i o n , and p a r t l y because men amem w i l l now be needed to help taro grow. Umoim must be sent o f f to make fubi, for gardens are now necessary. And he must make bonang, for once there i s death, men w i l l have to marry—and such marriages may not be incestuous, they w i l l require the giving of bonang. This i s an admittedly p a r t i a l and incomplete i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of what t h i s s e r i e s of narratives has to say, as any i n t e r p r e t a t i o n must be. From a s l i g h t l y d i f f e r e n t perspective i t i s possible to see the series as a chain of important but improper connections and missed opportunities. An analyst of a s t r u c t u r a l i s t bent might be drawn to'the l o v e l y complementarities and plo t symmetries of the texts, e.g., Umoim draws too near to Afek r e s u l t i n g i n the loss of natural products (meat and tar o ) , Afek and her c h i l d r e n draw too near to Umoim r e s u l t i n g i n the loss of c u l t u r a l products (bonang and fubi, both bridewealth v a l u a b l e s — h e r e the conventions of marriage exchanges are implicated). And so on. These are a l l permissible readings of the texts, and there are many more, f or the complexity of r e l a t i o n s w i t h i n and between the component narratives v i r t u a l l y assures a polyphony of messages. Rather than t r y to exhaust the s i g n i f i c a n c e of the tales of Afek and Umoim, I would l i k e to close my discussion of them with a few simple r points. F i r s t l y , we should understand them as part of the i n i t i a t i o n process i n the very broad sense of being d i d a c t i c and i n s t r u c t i v e devices. As such, they i n s t r u c t a l l i n i t i a n d s i n a highly i n t e r e s t i n g way: they demonstrate connections that were previously unsuspected and withheld from them, and one of the ways i n which t h i s i s done consists i n bracketing and rewriting previous 422 understandings. They have a revelatory character rooted i n the fact that they are secret and only made known i n a s p e c i f i c sequence over a protracted period of time. This " s e r i a l i z a t i o n " or what I have c a l l e d an organization of narrative i n terms of l e v e l s and chaining has as a consequence the maintenance of several d i s t i n c t but related n a r r a t i v e s . This i n h i b i t s ' a "lumping" or homogenization of d i f f e r e n t texts so that t h e i r i n t e g r i t y as d i s t i n c t texts remains i n t a c t . At the same time, the coalescence and encompassing of the kuuk v a r i a n t s i n the magam or "root texts" not only allows but promotes s e l f -reference—which i s to say, i t produces a myth which i s capable of discussing i t s e l f . Here the f i n i t u d e of the text gives way to an i n t e r n a l dialogue i n a myth which contains myth, a feature Wagner has also discussed for D a r i b i narratives (1979). In other words, once something has been learned i t may wel l be necessary to r e - l e a r n i t : the myths themselves are inherently > r e f l e x i v e . I t seems p l a i n , then, that the learning of the myths i s of at le a s t two kinds. There i s the f a i r l y straightforward learning of the kind "Afex did X — t h a t i s why things are as they are...". But there i s a second kind of learning, the kind Bateson (1972) has c a l l e d deutero-learning: a learning about learning. This i s part of the import of the r e f l e x i v i t y of the myths, f o r those who learn them—who are, i t w i l l be r e c a l l e d , forbidden to discuss them—learn "I learned that Afek did X, and that i s why things are as they are, but then I also learned that Afex r e a l l y did Y, and t h i s too i s why things are as they are...". In an important sense, then, I would argue that the i n i t i a n d s are not merely taught "knowledge", but are also taught something about knowledge. We have come some distance since the opening of t h i s section, and i t i s perhaps time to draw together some of the scattered threads. In t r y i n g to understand the meaning of the i n i t i a t i o n sequence, I s h i f t e d the discussion to a consideration of myth. Now what one normally expects here i s to f i n d a series of charters, r a t i o n a l i z a t i o n s that make manifest the sense and sensible 423 nature of what goes on i n the i n i t i a t i o n s . To a c e r t a i n extent t h i s i s true, and the myths do embody precedents that serve as parts for the s c r i p t s of the r i t e s . Examples might be the dew washing and painting i n the dagasal ban and t h e i r linkage to the episode of Afek and Umoim, or the repeated but c r y p t i c reference to Afek's two daughters KwiinBuson and DanBuson, also the f i r s t two taro. Sometimes the references are more obscure. In the iman ban, for example, the planting of Umoim i s not a b u r i a l i n T e l e f o l terms, since the dead are placed i n elevated platforms or trees, not i n the ground. Here, instead, there i s an inverted b u r i a l , and a minor d e t a i l of the r i t e makes t h i s p l a i n : the planting of the Hub (a v a r i e t y of pitpit) obliquely r e f e r s to the asop (another v a r i e t y of pitpit) that Afek scattered on Umoim's corpse to draw maggots, the Hop, which are the source of bonang. The planting of the Hub i s thought (by the i n i t i a t o r s , i t never being explained to the i n i t i a n d s i n the course of the r i t e ) to a t t r a c t bonang to T e l e f o l i p from Bagelam along the trading routes to the west. I t i s the case, then, that much of the a c t i v i t y of the r i t e s i s informed by the meanings a r t i c u l a t e d i n myth. Given t h i s a r t i c u l a t i o n and the fac t that meaningful d e t a i l s are generally meaningful because of the mutual r e l a t i o n s between the texts of the r i t e s and the texts of the myths, i t would be tempting to t r y to piece together an analysis based on an exhaustive concordance of the two. This I do not do. One reason has already been suggested, namely, that to do so would imply a closure of the system of meanings that may be i l l - f o u n d e d , given the general T e l e f o l p r e d i l e c t i o n for s e c r e c y — t h e r e i s always the r i s k that some undisclosed piece of information would r a d i c a l l y a l t e r the sense of the rest of the corpus, not only making new connections but also breaking or s h i f t i n g old ones. We have already seen how the s e l f - r e f e r e n t i a l q u a l i t y of myths of the Afek cycle enriches (which i s to say, complicates) the i n t e r p r e t i v e p o s s i b i l i t i e s . Here i t must be remembered that I have only included a portion of the t o t a l cycle, using a part to point towards the whole. The same problem appears i n two d i f f e r e n t xrays i n the r i t e s . F i r s t l y , we have seen that there are at least three d i f f e r e n t r i t e s going on simultaneously i n each case: there i s the r i t e which the novices experience, and there i s the r i t e that the i n i t i a t o r s perform, and for those who are doing so for the f i r s t time, they are novices to whom much i s new; f i n a l l y , there i s the t o t a l r i t e , the ensemble of these components. This i s a Rashomon-like d i f f i c u l t y . In some sense there i s a t h e o r e t i c a l l y definable set of acts which make up the whole r i t e , but i t seems p r a c t i c a l l y speaking impossible to discover them a l l , e s p e c i a l l y since one and the same act w i l l be understood d i f f e r e n t l y by the p a r t i c i p a n t s depending upon t h e i r awareness of es o t e r i c references and implications. The second d i f f i c u l t y i s that the r i t e s of the ser i e s seem to r e f e r to each other. The c l e a r e s t example i s i n the r e l a t i o n of the dagasal ban to the mafuum ban. But there are other such r e l a t i o n s as w e l l — i n some ways the om ban seems to be a foreshadowing of the iman ban sequence, and the tlalalep ban seems also to hint at the un baal which comes l a t e r . The problem, then, i s that serious d i f f i c u l t i e s a r i s e when tr y i n g to bound conceptually e i t h e r r i t e s or myths, l e t alone r e l a t i o n s between them. In a sense t h i s i s reminiscent of T e l e f o l kinship, where the involuted nature of cognatic l i n k s following on endogamy makes the d e f i n i t i o n of d i s c r e t e c l u s t e r i n g of k i n problematic, i f not downright impossible. For such reasons I do not even attempt a comprehensive an a l y s i s , though I would of course i n v i t e others to do so i f they wished. Instead, I w i l l merely summarize a few things which are by now f a i r l y c l e a r . The dagasal through mafuum portion of the sequence i s preoccupied with the maturation of the novices i n the broadest possible sense: they cease to be c h i l d r e n . Their sexuality seems i m p l i c i t l y to be of concern, and some of the underlying themes of the myths they learn concern the d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n between male and female, j u n i o r and elder, brother and s i s t e r . The d i v i s i o n between 425 nurturing and k i l l i n g i s highlighted, but at the end t h i s seems to be resolved as a complementarity, and somehow t h i s seems to r e l a t e to s e x u a l i t y — t h i s must surely be one of the messages apprehended i n the mafuum ban i t s e l f and i n the construction of the mafuum headdress with i t s j u x t a p o s i t i o n of male/female, red/white. The r i t e ends with the p e l t i n g of women with bananas by the i n i t i a n d s , but n o t — a s i n the dagasal ban—to drive them away, but to attract them. Aside from the obvious passage from c a r e f u l l y restrained and husbanded sexuality to i t s endorsement, there i s also a q u a l i f i c a t i o n of the statement of sexual opposition. In perhaps overly simple terms, youths are removed from the realm of women and ch i l d r e n i n order to become men, whereupon they are once again brought into r e l a t i o n with women and c h i l d r e n — b u t the new r e l a t i o n i s not one of incorporation, but rather one of complementarity. They are not f u l l y men, however, u n t i l the completion of the ot/tap/iman ban part of the sequence. Here the work of the ban i s not only to advance the development of the i n i t i a n d s but also to perform tasks which promote the prosperity of gardens. Although a l l of the r i t e s i n f a c t have portions which are es o t e r i c and removed from the ken of novices, t h i s i s most evidently so—and even to the novices t h e m selves—in the case of the iman ban. The iman ban involves the most dramatic revelations thus f a r experienced by the novices. It not only q u a l i f i e s and revises much of what they have already been taught, but i t introduces them for the f i r s t time to what can only be described as a mystery: the emergence of l i f e from death (the k i l l i n g of the pig i n the garden, the death of Umoim and the planting of h i s bones i n the garden, e t c . ) . Here the d i v i s i o n between nurturing and k i l l i n g i s shown to be problematic and somewhat other than previously understood, and the r i t e may be seen as saying that not: only can l i f e come from death, but that death i s a necessary precondition of l i f e . At t h i s time they are also instructed i n the myths that account for and conjoin the o r i g i n s of mortality, the loss of s e l f - s u s t a i n i n g plenty, the necessity f or hard work, and the means by which to combat entropy. F i n a l l y , 426 they w i l l be introduced to the U% baal, which seems to turn upon the complementary mystery of death out of l i f e , since i t i s the r i t e concerned with k i l l i n g but necessitates the capture—without k i l l i n g — o f a l i v e marsupial and bringing i t into the T e l e f o l i p . F i n a l l y , while a l l of t h i s i s going on, other lessons are being taught. These are the lessons about knowledge. The r i t e s have the character of o f f e r i n g s e r i a l r e v e l a t i o n s , things that may be revealed p r e c i s e l y because they have been kept secret, apart, and sacred—amem. The world as presented i n the bans i s not the same as the world seen from outside t h e m — i f i t were, there would be nothing to be revealed. In the next section I take up what seems to be c e n t r a l to our understanding of the point of a l l the r i t e s and the myths combined, a commentary on human knowledge. Though I do not discuss i t d i r e c t l y , t h i s question i s of t h e o r e t i c a l importance i n the anthropology of r e l i g i o n and of symbols, for i t seems that many understand the task of r e l i g i o n and i t s attendant symbolic forms to be the construction of a secure .universe, one i n which man's p o s i t i o n i s c e r t a i n , h i s way c l e a r , and one i n which various powerful ( i f i l l - d e f i n e d , please note) "supernatural forces" may be e n l i s t e d i n h i s aid. As we s h a l l see, T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n — a n d t h i s i s r e a l l y what I have been getting at a l l along—does quite the opposite, though i t may i n fact serve to orient men i n the world and aid them i n understanding what i t and they are about. v i i . . On Not Knowing i n Telefolmin Georg Simmel once wrote, "the secret... the hiding of r e a l i t i e s by negative or p o s i t i v e means, i s one of man's great achievements (1950:330)." The Bambara of the Sudan have some sayings on the notion of secrets and s i l e n c e , and they say: 427 One does not know what the s i l e n t man thinks, but one knows the thought of the chatterer. The secret belongs to he who keeps quiet,.. Silence pondered; speech, did not want to think., (Zahan 1979:117) The s e c r e t — t h a t which i s known, and perhaps shared among some, but not revealed—has a c e n t r a l place In T e l e f o l culture, for t h i s i s amem, sacred. The day a f t e r I a r r i v e d at the Telefolmin a i r s t r i p I decided to set out to f i n d a l i k e l y v i l l a g e i n which to begin work. I spent the morning walking a c i r c u i t from, v i l l a g e to v i l l a g e along the government road and occasionally branched o f f t i m i d l y on some of the l o c a l foot tracks. I managed to get a look at several v i l l a g e s that morning, but they were a l l v i r t u a l l y deserted and I met none of the Local Government Councillors to whom I had been introduced the previous day. At a l o s s , I sat along one of the tracks connecting two v i l l a g e s and waited to see i f any of the l o c a l people would approach me. I f e l t odd, and started r o l l i n g c i g a r e t t e a f t e r c i g a r e t t e while wondering what I would do i f anyone noticed me. Most of the time I practiced a l i t a n y of Pidgin phrases that I hoped would guide me through the p e r i l s of greetings, questions, and answers that were sure to come. By mid-afternoon men, women, and c h i l d r e n loaded with bulging netbags appeared along the tracks as they made for t h e i r v i l l a g e s . My a n t i c i p a t i o n rose—and they passed s i l e n t l y by. Though there were odd b i t s of u n i n t e l l i g i b l e conversation among themselves and occasional giggles among the c h i l d r e n , they passed by for the most part q u i e t l y , r a r e l y acknowledging my presence with a glance. I was soon dejected and d i s a p p o i n t e d — t h e i r apparent lack of i n q u i s i t i v e n e s s struck me as perverse, since I was counting on t h e i r c u r i o s i t y to p r e c i p i t a t e the f i r s t encounter. Eventually I was saved by Yemis, a pastor for the Baptist mission. A t t i r e d i n the l e s s than picturesque cotton shorts and white s h i r t that mark men of new ways, he approached me, sat down, and gave me my f i r s t opportunity to t r y out my Pidgin i n Telefolmin. We chatted for some time, during which 428 I t r i e d to explain my presence, my need f o r a v i l l a g e i n which, to stay, and my desire to h i r e a v i l l a g e r to i n t e r p r e t and help with learning the language, Gradually, we were joined by a growing knot of other men, Yemis introduced me to each of them as I t r i e d (and f a i l e d ) to keep track of t h e i r names. Two men i n p a r t i c u l a r stood out—Wesani and Dakasim, both brothers of Yemis. Wesani offered to rent out a section of h i s house to me, and Dakasim was recommended as an excellent i n t e r p r e t e r since he had previously worked f or another European (B.A.L. Cranstone) who had come to study material culture i n the area. I soon learned that Wesani was a man of some prominence (the previous, and—at the time of w r i t i n g , !current—Member of Parliament for the area), and I was therefore e s p e c i a l l y a t t e n t i v e to what he began to t e l l me. He said that Dakasim, h i s elder brother, was very knowledgeable, and would be i d e a l l y suited to help me i n my work. He added that I could learn a l o t from Dakasim, but there were some things I could never know. There were, he explained, two kinds of t a l k : tok pablik or tok klia (Pidgin: "public t a l k " ) , and tok hait or tok tambu ('hidden t a l k , or.tabu t a l k ' ) . While I would be assured of learning a l l there was to know of the public t a l k , the hidden t a l k would remain unknown to me because i t was secret and contained s t o r i e s .that were tabu (Pidgin: tambu, T e l e f o l : amem). Daunted, I r e p l i e d that t h i s arrangement was agreeable to me, since I had come to f i n d out how men made names for themselves and achieved prominence: I was looking f o r big men, and had come to study l o c a l - l e v e l p o l i t i c s . Our conversation continued for some time as I t r i e d to negotiate the circumstances of my presence i n the v i l l a g e where I was to s e t t l e . Though much had been l e f t f a r too unresolved for my l i k i n g — I l a t e r learned that T e l e f o l s t y l e s of negotiation followed c i r c u i t o u s routes—arrangements were made and i t was agreed that I would move into the v i l l a g e that evening, and that I would 429 h i r e Dakasim on a t r i a l basis. At that, the men began slowly to go t h e i r way i n small c l u s t e r s . Dakasim, however, remained behind, and when the others were out of earshot, he began to t a l k i n a low hushed voice: "There was an old woman...". Thus began my f i r s t introduction into the paradoxical and seductive world of secrecy i n Telefolmin. There i s nothing novel, of course, i n the discovery of esotericism i n New Guinea cultures. Men's c u l t s are widespread, and almost always embrace some degree of secrecy as part of t h e i r c o n s t i t u t i v e framework (cf. van Baal 1966; Barth 1975; Bateson 1958; Errington 1974; Kamma 1975; Forge 1965; G e l l 1975; Lawrence and Meggitt 1965; Jones 1976; Read 1952; Poole 1976; Wheatcroft 1976; Williams 1940; Watson 1972). What i s s t r i k i n g about the T e l e f o l case i s the almost awesome pervasiveness of secrecy throughout the c u l t u r e . This was quickly brought home to me as the r e s u l t of the constraints secrecy imposed on the conditions of my work i n the f i e l d . In the early stages I professed a (genuine) d i s i n t e r e s t i n matters that came under Wesani's heading of tok hait. Anxious not to transgress the bounds of my hosts' good w i l l , I studiously avoided l i n e s of questioning that threatened to stray into forbidden t e r r a i n . This, however, proved more d i f f i c u l t to accomplish than I had imagined. I f , for example, I pressed informants for the r a t i o n a l e underlying p a r t i c u l a r d e t a i l s of custom, a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c sequence began to emerge. Occasionally there would be a reply that corresponds to our notions of explanation. More often, however, the standard response would be something to the e f f e c t that t h i s was simply the way things had always been. If I persisted beyond t h i s point, I would be t o l d that t h i s was the way Afek had said things should be, and t h i s was almost always followed by b r i e f and c r y p t i c statements to the e f f e c t that t h i s was amem. This wasn't the only context i n which secrecy and my work confronted each other. A preliminary a n a l y s i s of T e l e f o l s o c i a l structure revealed that the v i l l a g e was the c r u c i a l l e v e l of 430 organization, and that the v i l l a g e i n turn was defined by the presence of a yolam. But, as we have already seen, the yolam and everything about i t was amem and hence not open to probing questions. I found the c o l l e c t i o n of genealogies complicated by the fact that the names of most forebears beyond a couple of generations were also amem—-men would t e l l me these names, but only with a stern and emphatic caution that I must not reveal them to women, chil d r e n , or younger men. This, they explained, was amem,. and i f I revealed the names I would be endangering not so much myself as those for whom such knowledge was hazardous and therefore proscribed. It soon became clear to me that i t would be d i f f i c u l t to pursue my work without at one point or another venturing into areas that were behind the v e i l s of secrecy. But i t also became c l e a r that some things were more secret than others, and that I would be permitted to learn some secrets i f I were w i l l i n g to abide by c e r t a i n s t r i c t u r e s concerning my communication of information to o t h e r s — t h a t i s , i f I were to respect and p a r t i c i p a t e i n conventions of secrecy myself. Within a matter of months the s i t u a t i o n r a p i d l y became more complicated than I had anti c i p a t e d , achieving ah almost lab y r i n t h i n e character. My preliminary work was aimed at es t a b l i s h i n g the background of T e l e f o l l i f e , and I spent a great deal of time making maps, drawing v i l l a g e plans, enumerating households, c o l l e c t i n g kinship terms, fi n d i n g out about the system of gardening, and so on. Telefolmin are keen and able gardeners, and I had no trouble getting them to t e l l me about t h i s side of t h e i r l i v e s . But discussions of hunting or gardening i n v a r i a b l y led to a consideration of the foods that were prohibited (again amem) for c e r t a i n p e o p l e — t h i s i s the system of food tabus cross-cutting the en t i r e society. Once a g a i n — i t almost goes without saying—any understanding of these tabus hinged upon an understanding of what was amem, and the regulations themselves were once again shrouded i n an aura of secrecy. It was easy to learn who could eat what, but not so easy 431 to f i n d out what meaning people attached to t h i s . Secrecy, i t seemed, was determined to block the way at every turn, This i s not the sort of s i t u a t i o n most fieldworkers l i k e , and I began to chafe every time I was t o l d that the answer to one of my questions was amem. The apparent impasse was resolved one morning when Dakasim came to me. We had been going over the crop inventory, and I had been attempting to l i s t food p r o h i b i t i o n s without delving too far into areas of i n d i s c r e t i o n . On t h i s p a r t i c u l a r morning Dakasim, who had up u n t i l now been patient (though sometimes bored) with my questions, opened the conversation'with "maski vabis toktok"—"forget t h i s rubbish ( t r i v i a l t a l k " ) . He then sat me down, and a f t e r assuring himself that there was no one else about, explained that I should be learning big things, not simply who l i v e d where or what women couldn't eat. He then launched into the narration of myths about Afek, which he had c u r s o r i l y begun on our f i r s t meeting. This f i r s t r e l a t i v e l y f u l l account was always conducted i n privacy, sometimes i n the darkened confines of my house when others were away i n the gardens, sometimes i n a c l e a r i n g on a nearby h i l l o c k where he could be c e r t a i n that we would have ample warning of the approach of others. In a l l cases, he was adamant that I give no i n d i c a t i o n to others of the knowledge he had revealed. Before too long I found myself engaged i n si m i l a r conversations with other men, sometimes with Dakasim present, sometimes with him absent. In a l l cases, a precondition of the discussions was that I admit knowledge of these things to no one—not to women, chi l d r e n , and youths, nor to other adult men. I was soon enmeshed i n a network of clandestine conversations whose contents could only be discussed with those who were privy to the i n i t i a l conversations. The injunction to remain s i l e n t beyond the confines of p a r t i c u l a r r e l a t i o n s h i p s e f f e c t i v e l y insulated such discussions from each other and from the realm of everyday discourse. These constraints had profound implications for the nature of the material I c o l l e c t e d , and also led to a keen appreciation of some aspects of 432 secrecy that have, with a few noteworthy exceptions (van Baal 1966; Barth 1975; Bateson 1958; Jones 1976), been neglected i n New Guinea ethnography. In the case of my own work, i t i s possible to o u t l i n e some of the most s i g n i f i c a n t points. (1) One of the recurring preoccupations of fieldworkers i s the d i f f i c u l t y of assessing the " r e l i a b i l i t y " of data c o l l e c t e d . I t i s generally assumed that the accounts provided by sing l e informants cannot represent the " f u l l " and "true" p i c t u r e , and i t i s thus necessary to draw upon accounts from several d i f f e r e n t informants to f l e s h out the scheme of things. There are two standard techniques employed to do t h i s : (a) interviewing several knowledgeable informants simultaneously, with the aim of a r r i v i n g at a consensus on the questions posed; (b) cross-checking p a r t i c u l a r points with several d i f f e r e n t informants over time, making repeated use of the same e l i c i t i n g frames. In eit h e r case, the general aim i s to v e r i f y one's information on the basis of agreement or correspondence between i n d i v i d u a l a c c o u n t s — i n t h i s sense homogeneity and consensus are seen as indices of v e r a c i t y and r e l i a b i l i t y . This has the consequence of defining epistemological questions i n s t a t i s t i c a l terms. One d i f f e r e n c e that c o n s i s t e n t l y marked the contrast between secret (amem) material and non-secret information that I c o l l e c t e d was the a b i l i t y or i n a b i l i t y to subject such data to the "normal" techniques of v e r i f i c a t i o n . Cross-checking was by the very nature of the information and its modes of communication impossible. P a r e n t h e t i c a l l y , I might add that t h i s applies for the most part to Telefolmin themselves and c a l l s the very idea of a sing l e u n i f i e d b e l i e f system into question. (2) Because i t was impossible f o r me to admit to knowledge beyond the context of my conversations with p a r t i c u l a r i n d i v i d u a l s , e l i c i t a t i o n was confined to the hi s t o r y of our previous discussions. I could not, f o r example, question a man about a d e t a i l of the iman ban unless he himself had spoken to me of i t i n the f i r s t place. This had the r e s u l t of r e s t r i c t i n g my i n i t i a t i v e i n questioning and placed me i n a p o s i t i o n where I was l a r g e l y dependent upon my informants 433 for the d i r e c t i o n that my i n q u i r i e s followed, (3) Whenever my informants questioned me i n turn about what I had learned, I had always to be circumspect and c a r e f u l not to reveal anything that they themselves had not taught me. If they questioned me about areas that had only been covered i n conversations with o t h e r s — a s they did from time to t i m e — I had to feign ignorance. Thus, whenever t h e i r questions passed beyond the bounds of what they had taught me, there was only one possible answer I could give them, regardless of the actual state of my knowledge: "I don't know". (Such responses were occasionally transparent, and i n these instances I often received what appeared to be knowing and approving smiles from my mentors.) Dissimulation (migik bagamin, tituleng bagamin) thus became an.integral part of the process. (4) In a l i k e manner, whenever I pursued questions about esoteric material and received an answer of "I don't know" ("muu kwa^ tolongoli binimi utamami binim"), i t was d i f f i c u l t to judge whether my companion t r u l y did not know or was simply guarding areas of secrecy from further exploration; the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of evasion and concealment thus framed a number of conversations. (5) As an increasing amount of esoteric l o r e came to my attention, l e s s and less of what I already "knew" could be taken f o r granted, (6) Because of the precautions and circumspection required of a l l discussions of eso t e r i c knowledge, each such conversation had the aura of the mysterium (cf. Otto 1958), a c e r t a i n numinous and set-apart q u a l i t y . Here, one example may stand for many. Old Utuumbaanengim suspected that I had been given deliberate misinformation on a p a r t i c u l a r point (or so he s a i d ) , and had through a devious route sent word to me—through a trusted junior r e l a t i v e — t h a t the two of us should meet to discuss matters. His s i s t e r ' s son was sent to fetch me about mid-day, when he was sure that most people would be o f f i n the bush i n t h e i r gardens. I was taken to h i s v i l l a g e , and we went into the yolam to t a l k while Utuumbaanengim's nephew—himself a grown man with c h i l d r e n — s t o o d watch outside from the verandah. Soon he whispered that someone was coming. Quickly and q u i e t l y 434 Utuumbaanengim got up and went out of the yolam, boarding the door behind him and i n c i d e n t a l l y sealing me i n s i d e . Thus, while I remained s i l e n t i n the darkness of the yolam, Utuumbaaneng greeted h i s f r i e n d and chatted. Then, o f f e r i n g h i s apologies, he explained that he and h i s s i s t e r ' s son were on the point of going o f f to a distant garden to check the fences and do some planting. They took up taro s t a l k s — w h i c h I l a t e r learned they had set aside for j u s t such a deception—and struck o f f into the bush while accompanying t h e i r f r i e n d back to h i s home v i l l a g e . There I sat for the better part of an hour, wondering what to do when eventually I heard Utuumbaanengim whispering outside. After making sure that I was s t i l l there, he unboarded the door, placed h i s nephew once more on watch, and came i n once again, where he f i n a l l y t o l d me what he wanted to say. Such are the lengths to which one goes when conveying weng amem, and I soon became accustomed to such procedures as normal whenever anything e s o t e r i c was to be discussed. In such circumstances i t was hard not to b e l i e v e that something .serious was afoot, and I found myself l i s t e n i n g with heightened a n t i c i p a t i o n for whatever new revelations were offered. If what was revealed conformed to what I knew from other contexts, I found myself experiencing a vague sense of let-down and disappointment tinged with a q u i e t l y i n s i s t e n t suspicion that I was being presented with a deception, an eso t e r i c "cover story" (weng migik) meant to mask the t r u t h rather than reveal i t . I f , on the other hand, the r e v e l a t i o n offered a n o v e l — o r even c o n t r a d i c t o r y — v e r s i o n of what I had been previously t o l d , t h i s i n i t s e l f tended to vouchsafe i t s a u t h e n t i c i t y f or me. The obvious became t r i v i a l while the improbable acquired s i g n i f i c a n c e . (7) As my discussions with p a r t i c u l a r men broadened, deepened, and progressed, the h i s t o r y of t h i s exploration formed a bond between us akin to that of commensality, for we had shared secrets with each other. In t h i s way a range of r e l a t i o n s h i p s became d i f f e r e n t i a t e d from each other on the basis of the p a r t i c u l a r ranges of knowledge and conversation pe c u l i a r to each. There were thus those with whom 435 c e r t a i n topics of conversation were permissible and.those with whom I could only discuss the "externals" (the kuuk) of- T e l e f o l l i f e . As most ethnographers know, the f r u s t r a t i o n s and d i f f i c u l t i e s of fieldwork are often highly i n s t r u c t i v e , and I can say without reservation that the fact of secrecy i n Telefolmin was a supreme source of f r u s t r a t i o n . But th i s obstacle was i n fact a highly s i g n i f i c a n t v e h i c l e for my understanding of ju s t what weng amem-—secret/sacred s p e e c h — i s about. Though I was long i n appreciating i t , the circumstances under which I learned weng amem shed l i g h t on the fact that i n the realm of es o t e r i c l o r e the how of knowing i s as important ( i f not more so) as the what of knowing—the two are i n e x t r i c a b l y bound together. And t h i s i s so not j u s t for the ethnographer from an exotic p l a c e — t h i s i s a l l the more true for Telefolmin themselves. As I found when learning about the i n i t i a t i o n process, the rather peculiar ways i n which I learned weng amem reproduced—though i n less dramatic ways—the experience of Telefolmin themselves when they encountered and partook of that which i s amem, both secret and sacred. To comprehend t h i s i s to comprehend something about the meaning of secrecy as i t distinguishes between the knowledgeable and the ignorant, between those with two e y e s - ( t i i n aloop) and those who are cross-eyed (tiin sunk), between that which i s obvious and i n s i g n i f i c a n t (kuuk) and that which i s less evident but more fundamental (magam). If we consider the i n i t i a t i o n process as a whole, i t i s c l e a r that men's experience i n the realm of things amem i s f u l l of surprises. Things are revealed to be r a r e l y what they seem: the red ochre (bagan) with which men adorn themselves i s i n fact Afek's menstrual blood, the white cowries (bonang) used as decorations and as bridewealth valuables are i n fact maggots from Umoim's corpse, the yolam belongs to men but was given to them by a woman, and so on. Interwoven with t h i s i s the repeated message that secrets must be kept, that knowledge can be dangerous, and that to claim too much knowledge i s a mistake. Here we can r e c a l l the piecemeal r e v e l a t i o n of Afek sang, i n which 436 i n i t i a l d i s c l o s u r e s of the kuuk. are only p a r t i a l expositions rather than f i n a l and d e f i n i t i v e explanations. The point i s r e i t e r a t e d i n the content of the myths themselves, as when Umoim's desire for knowledge has the consequences of n u l l i f y i n g that which he sought: wanting to co n t r o l h i s s i s t e r ' s powers, he ends by destroying them and bringing about a world where men know s c a r c i t y and death. Anxious to v i s i t her brother i n Bagelam, Afek goes to see him too soon, with the r e s u l t that men's t o o l s — t h e fubi adzes that come from Bagelam—are flawed and the l i v i n g are unable to v i s i t the dead. Careless and too hasty with t h e i r words, seeing only the appearance and not the substance of things, Afek's c h i l d r e n shame t h e i r mother's brother and thus drive him and the source of bonang away, forever., sundering the worlds of the l i v i n g and the dead. Here too we should r e c a l l that there i s a d i v i s i o n of knowledge among the men of the yolam. Not only i s there a graded s t r a t i f i c a t i o n of knowledge i n which progressively more eso t e r i c information i s gradually revealed, but there i s also the d i v i s i o n between Taro and Arrow men i n which the innermost core (.magam) of the weng amem of one side i s prohibited to the other. Thus while a l l men have some knowledge and experience of the f u l l range of r i t e s by the time they have completed t h e i r i n i t i a t i o n sequence, t h e i r knowledge of the magam of weng amem i s confined to that of t h e i r own sphere. Should they gain access to weng amem of the opposite sphere, i t s e f f i c a c y would be v i t i a t e d and the success of t h e i r projects imperiled. This i s a point that i s n i c e l y developed i n a non-secret utuum sang concerning two men, one a gardener and the other a hunter: There were two cross-cousins who l i v e d together, one who gardened and one who hunted. The gardener went to h i s garden one day and was cl e a r i n g bush when the blade of his stone adze broke. He went down to a nearby stream to p o l i s h and resharpen the blade i n the r i v e r sand. As he was sharpening h i s adze, he saw a bunch of sweet r i p e bananas come f l o a t i n g downstream. He caught and ate these, and a l i t t l e l a t e r some cooked pork came f l o a t i n g downstream. This he also ate. Curious, he went upstream to f i n d out where these things came from. Af t e r he followed the stream into the h i l l s he came to a steep slope which he couldn't climb. He looked f o r a way to get to the top, but found none. At the top, however, was an old woman who l e t down her long pubic h a i r as a rope f o r him to climb. He was a f r a i d i t might break, but she t o l d him not to worry and simply climb, which he d i d . When he got to the top, she asked him to help her with her taro garden. He did t h i s , and. afterwards they went to her house, where she gave him tobacco to smoke. Then she cooked some food for him. She cooked some meat and cut off a portion of her genitals and cooked t h i s too. This she gave to him to eat, but while he took the meat, he refused the portion of her ge n i t a l s , saying he had eaten enough. After he had eaten, the old woman got up and spoke: "I'm going to take a torch and go to look f o r frogs tonight. You stay here, and i f you hear any rats or cockroaches making noise i n the house, do not disturb them, but toss them scraps of food instead". Saying t h i s , she went out into the night. He stayed behind and waited. He heard some rats and insects making noise, j u s t as she had said, and he tossed b i t s of food to where he heard the noise. At dawn the old woman returned, saying that she had f a i l e d to f i n d any frogs. She t o l d the young man to take some tobacco, and then he could leave. She instructed him that a f t e r he l e f t he should go to a c e r t a i n place and pick some ~itub and then go to another place and pick two long r i p e pandanus f r u i t s . When he picked these f r u i t s he would have to take s p e c i a l care to climb up the tree to cut them and carry them down, as they were very r i p e . A f t e r that, he should go down to a small stream to drink, and then return home. The young man smoked and then l e f t as he had been t o l d . When he came upon the spot where the iZub grew, a large and f a t domestic pig appeared, which he shot and cooked i n a le a f oven with stones. He then f i l l e d up h i s netbag with cooked pork and walked u n t i l he came upon the pandanus tree. He climbed up as he had been to l d and c a r e f u l l y cut the f r u i t s and c a r r i e d them to the ground. These he l a i d down as he went to drink at the small stream. When he f i n i s h e d drinking, he turned around to see two b e a u t i f u l young women standing where he had l e f t the pandanus f r u i t s . "Where did you come from?" he asked. They r e p l i e d that they were none other than the f r u i t s that he had cut down, and that they would be h i s wives. The three then set o f f for his home, carrying the pork with them. When they arr i v e d , the young man's cross-cousin, the hunter, was waiting. He was impatient because he had been l e f t home alone, and was also curious to know where h i s cross-cousin had found the two women and the pork. The gardener t o l d him that he must take h i s stone adze and break the blade i n the garden. Then he must take i t down to the stream to sharpen i t . When he did so, he would see something-—then he would f i n d out. The hunter went to the garden, broke h i s adze blade, and went down to the stream. He went down, but he didn't r e a l l y r e pair the bla d e — h e only pretended to do so. Soon some r i p e bananas came f l o a t i n g downstream, which he ate. Then some cooked pork came downstream, which he also ate. Then he set off upstream to see where these things came from, When he ar r i v e d at the steep slope he c a l l e d out, asking how to get to the top. The old woman answered him, saying that she was l e t t i n g down her pubic h a i r for him to climb up. He was a f r a i d t h i s might break, so he tested i t several times by p u l l i n g i t sharply. Then he climbed up. When he got to the top, the old woman asked him to help her with her garden. But instead of helping her, he tol d her to shut up and then knocked her down and had intercourse with her. Afterwards, she prepared some meat for him, and as before, cut off a portion of her genitals and cooked i t with the meat. She gave t h i s to him, and he ate i t a l l , including the portion of her ge n i t a l s . When he fi n i s h e d he said he was s t i l l hungry and asked for more. The old woman refused, saying he had had enough already. Then she t o l d him she was going to look f o r frogs, and l e f t him in s t r u c t i o n s to toss b i t s of food to rats or cockroaches i f they made any noise. She l e f t , and the young man got up and t r i e d to follow h e r — but the path was blocked. He.came back, and when he heard the rats and cockroaches r u s t l i n g he t r i e d to shoo them away with a long s t i c k , instead of throwing them food. At dawn the old woman came back, saying she had f a i l e d to f i n d any frogs. But the young man accused her of l y i n g , saying that he knew she hadn^t gone to f i n d frogs at a l l but had instead been .performing a ban, pointing to a tin y b i t of red ochre that remained on her face. The woman said nothing of t h i s , but t o l d him to leave and go gather iZub and then to go on and c a r e f u l l y cut down the two pandanus f r u i t s , j u s t as she had t o l d his cross-cousin. Then he was to go and drink from a small stream nearby. He l e f t and came to the place where he was to gather {.tub. There a domestic pig appeared, but i t was scrawny and sic k . This he shot and cooked. Then he went to the pandanus tree, but rather than climbing up as he was t o l d , he took a long s t i c k and knocked the two f r u i t s to the ground. As they f e l l , one of them broke. Then he went down to the stream to drink, and when he turned around there were two women standing i n place of the pandanus f r u i t s . One of these women was lame—she was the one that had broken when i t struck the ground. Then the three of them set o f f for home. When they ar r i v e d , the man met his cross-cousin, the gardener. The l a t t e r was wearing a f i n e wild boar's tusk i n h i s nose and had a b e a u t i f u l mafuum headdress. The hunter asked him where he got a l l these f i n e things, and the gardener answered that he made his mafuum from strands of domestic pandanus (em) and that he got h i s tusk simply by plucking i t from the mouth of a wi l d boar. Believing t h i s , the.hunter went and watched by a wild p i g run. A huge sow went by, but he didn't shoot i t because he was only interested i n getting tusks. After a while a wild boar with huge curved tusks came down the track. Tossing h i s bow and arrows aside, he sprang onto the pig's back and t r i e d to p u l l out the 439 tusks with h i s hand. But instead of getting the tusks he was ca r r i e d o f f into the bush by the boar. The pi g was moving so fast that he dare not,leap o f f , and instead he y e l l e d for h i s cross-cousin to save him, He kept y e l l i n g for him to intercept the pig at a stream crossing so that he might be saved. But the pig was running so fast that the gardener could never catch up with i t i n time. This went on for a month or so, and f i n a l l y the gardener returned to his c l e a r i n g , t i r e d of chasing a f t e r the pig. One day, while he was r o l l i n g a smoke i n h i s garden, he once again heard the voice of hi s cross-cousin c a l l i n g out for rescue. The l a t t e r ' s voice was very f a i n t and weak, since he had been r i d i n g a l l t h i s time on the pig's back and had not eaten. He was nearly dead. The gardener grabbed h i s bow and arrows and raced o f f i n p u r s u i t ^ — t h i s time he shot the pig. The hunter was now nothing but skin and bone, he had been on the pig's back f o r so l o n g — i n f a c t , he had been there so long that he had to be cut away from the pig, f o r the boar's b r i s t l e s had grown into h i s chest. His cross-cousin then c a r r i e d him to a nearby spot and l a i d him down—he was too weak to walk or stand. The gardener butchered the wild p i g and k i l l e d a domestic pig as well. These he cooked and gave the meat to h i s cross-cousin to eat, along with some bananas and sugar cane. There was, so much food that the starved man was unable to f i n i s h i t a l l . But the gardener kept feeding him, i n s i s t i n g that he eat. . Eventually the hunter's strength returned, he grew f a t , and they were able to remove the pig's b r i s t l e s from h i s chest. And so the two remained.... Here we can see the funadmental d i s j u n c t i o n between gardening and hunting used to p o l a r i z e the protagonists of the narr a t i v e . But beyond t h i s , we can also see how the themes of secrecy, deception, masking, and i n d i s c r e t i o n are used c o n s i s t e n t l y to b u i l d the framework of the t a l e . The gardener and hunter are, as s i g n a l l e d at the outset, fundamentally d i f f e r e n t characters, the former being appropriately d i s c r e t e i n h i s dealings with the old woman, while the l a t t e r ' s seeming determination to transgress a l l the proper guidelines i s linked to h i s blindness. He refuses to respect the l i m i t s of things that are not his to know, things that are amem, and instead attempts to gain secret knowledge by force. This leads to f a i l u r e i n a l l he attempts, and even when he i s t o l d what to do to secure the benefits the old woman o f f e r s , he cannot but f a i l to follow her i n s t r u c t i o n s . Wishing to arrogate a l l to himself, he f a i l s i n everything. When he returns to see hi s cousin, he i s likewise unable to perceive obvious deception (mafuum are made from s t r i p s of wild pandanus, not the domesticated v a r i e t y ) . He thus pursues l i e s and i l l u s i o n while f a i l i n g to see what truths he i s offered. This f a i l u r e of "seeing" i s underscored when he ignores the f i r s t wild pig to come down the track: h i s single-minded s e l f - w i l l e d n e s s befogs h i s v i s i o n . In the end he becomes, l i k e the wild pig whose being becomes fused with h i s own, completely devoid of the a b i l i t y to discriminate that characterizes the c u l t u r a l realm. In our terms, t h i s t a l e i s c l e a r l y a homily on greed and i t s s e l f -defeating consequences. But we must also understand that t h i s "greed" includes the insistence upon knowing a l l , the r e f u s a l to respect the boundaries and constraints of secrecy entailed i n that which i s amem. The story also suggests an i m p l i c i t connection with the i n i t i a t i o n context, marked by the f i r s t cross-cousin's mafuum headdress. The journey to the old woman's house serves as an analogue for the journey that a l l youths make through the i n i t i a t i o n system, through an intimate, f o r c e f u l , and mysterious confrontation with the realm of the amem. The opening of the eyes of youths.in i n i t i a t i o n i s not simply i n s t r u c t i o n i n the content of various s e c r e t s — i t i s f i r s t and foremost an elaborate i n s t r u c t i o n i n the nature, power, and value of secrecy and sacredness i t s e l f — t h e opening of the eyes takes the form of successive introductions into a graded range of secrets and, as Barth (1975) has noted for the Baktaman, each secret revealed (and kept) by the i n i t i a t e s points to a subsequent s e r i e s of secrets as yet unknown. Perhaps the ultimate f o l l y of the hunter i n the t a l e i s not only h i s greed, but h i s b l i n d f a i t h i n h i s a b i l i t y to see, h i s arrogance c o n s i s t i n g i n h i s presumption that he can see (and comprehend) everything. Not content to remain a hunter and yet knowing nothing of gardening, he believes that he can usurp for himself a l l there i s to know—he ends as the v i c t i m of h i s erstwhile prey and must depend on the gardener's s k i l l with bow and arrow to save him. 441 In t h i s t a l e , as with the story of Umoim spying on Afek, the s e l f -w i l l e d desire to know i s equated with, greed and ends i n f u t i l i t y . The knowledge thus gained i s of no a v a i l , i t might as well never have been. Here we approach an important aspect of secrecy i n Telefolmin, namely, that secrets are powerful as secrets, and here l i e s an important paradox of secrecy: to t e l l a secret i s to reveal and destroy i t , but to preserve the knowledge embodied i n secrets, they must be t o l d . Thus the value of secret knowledge depends upon continued secrecy, and i n a l i k e manner, that which i s secret i s by v i r t u e of secrecy valuable while that which i s common currency i s devalued. A couple of concrete examples w i l l i l l u s t r a t e these points. When Europeans f i r s t a r r i v e d on the T e l e f o l scene as p a t r o l o f f i c e r s and missionaries, T e l e f o l dealings with them bore the imprint of what Barth has c a l l e d the epistemology of secrecy. According to several informants, when the f i r s t p a t r o l o f f i c e r s — o u t s i d e r s of obvious power but with unknown bases for that power-—arrive'd, Telefolmin took them into t h e i r yolam and showed them the r e l i c s housed there. The hope was that Europeans would s i m i l a r l y reveal the basis of t h e i r power, but t h i s did not take place and many older men s t i l l trace t h e i r d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with the non-reciprocal character of Telefolmin-European r e l a t i o n s to t h i s point. Since that time the opening of an administration school with i n s t r u c t i o n i n Engli s h l i t e r a c y has been seen by some as a tardy act of r e c i p r o c i t y to redress the o r i g i n a l imbalance. Now there are many f a m i l i e s that send t h e i r boys to school to learn the Europeans' knowledge. These boys, however, are r a r e l y i n i t i a t e d into the t r a d i t i o n a l l o r e of weng amem, while other boys are retained i n the v i l l a g e s and inducted into the c u l t . This i s p a r t l y because schoolboys are themselves reluctant to undergo the rigours of i n i t i a t i o n , and p a r t l y because t h e i r parents fear that the presence of g i r l s and many u n i n i t i a t e d boys i n the classroom would jeopardize the secrecy upon which weng amem i s based. But i n addition, i t r e f l e c t s a fundamental T e l e f o l a t t i t u d e that knowledge has value as a r e s u l t 442 of the degree of secrecy surrounding i t , and that the benefits of such knowledge can be widely shared only through a d i v i s i o n of labour which enjoins some not to know the knowledge of others, T e l e f o l reactions to m i s s i o n i z a t i o n r e f l e c t these premises i n a rather s t r i k i n g way. Although the A u s t r a l i a n Baptist Missionary Society has been operating i n Telefolmin for over twenty-f i v e years, the majority of Telefolmin remain pagans. Though there are many reasons for t h i s , one of them i s the T e l e f o l a t t i t u d e towards knowledge and the ways i n which valuable knowledge i s managed. The missionaries are p r o s e l y t i z e r s , a f a c t which Telefolmin f i n d perplexing. Since missionaries are concerned to disseminate t h e i r gospel as widely as possible, T e l e f o l men take t h i s as s e l f - e v i d e n t proof that the message of the missionaries i s ei t h e r f a l s e , or valueless, or both. For, as men often remark, they t e l l even women and c h i l d r e n openly about the B i b l e ! If not a ti s s u e of e s o t e r i c deception, such knowledge must be of l i t t l e consequence to be treated so l i g h t l y . This leads us to other aspects of secrecy and r e v e l a t i o n , p a r t i c u l a r l y with respect to dreams (perhaps the p r o t o t y p i c a l secrets), Dreams are held to be the a c t i v i t y of a person's sinik while sleeping. As such, dreams are f e l t to have a r e a l i t y of t h e i r own and represent experience rather than mere imaginings. But i t i s also known that while dreams represent r e a l experience and often have import for the waking world, things i n dreams are "turned" so that t h e i r import i s almost never a d i r e c t r e f l e c t i o n of t h e i r content (cf. Wagner 1972; Landtman 1927). I f , for example, one dreams of a f r i e n d or a kinsman s u f f e r i n g harm, i t i s taken as a sign that a stranger or a member of a distant v i l l a g e w i l l d i e . On the other hand, i f dreams about the death of strangers are experienced, t h i s betokens harm to someone nearby. Since dreams are often tangled and confused, t h e i r meaning i s very d i f f i c u l t to determine. But since they are r e a l , they cannot be treated, l i g h t l y . It i s known that occasionally dreams are revelations of power, so that people tend 443 i n f a c t to treat t h e i r dreams as a v a r i e t y of weng amem^ Thus, to reveal a dream may be to destroy i t s p o t e n t i a l power—-to "give away a secret" i s also to give away i t s import and e f f i c a c y , to lose i t . For example, Dakasim t o l d me sh o r t l y a f t e r I a r r i v e d that he had had a dream f o r e t e l l i n g my coming. Not knowing the meaning of what he saw (he dreamt of a European coming to t a l k to him), he to l d t h i s dream to a man from another v i l l a g e . One part of the dream dealt with the discovery of wealth i n the ground. Dakasim t o l d me that had he not revealed t h i s dream to another man, the two of us might have made our fortunes. But having revealed the dream, a l l such hopes were l o s t . S i m i l a r l y , Robinok, one of the younger men i n Derolengam,. t o l d me that when he worked i n a mining camp he was i n the habit of playing taki, a card game. One night he had had a dream i n which he saw a piece of gold, and he l a t e r found t h i s piece. This he c a r e f u l l y tucked away, and he began to win r e g u l a r l y at cards. One day he t o l d a f r i e n d about h i s dream and l a t e r found that h i s piece of gold was l o s t — a n d with i t , h i s a b i l i t y to win. There was no suspicion of theft here, and the f r i e n d whom he t o l d remained a f r i e n d . The f a u l t was rather h i s own, for he had destroyed the basis of h i s power by revealing i t . Here we come to an important feature of T e l e f o l i n i t i a t i o n s , namely, that while weng amem i s revealed to the novices, the revelations are p a r t i a l and sometimes have the character of deception. One of the main burdens of the i n i t i a t o r y process i s the progressive d i s c l o s u r e of weng amem, the legacy of sacred/secret knowledge that Afek l e f t for the Telefolmin. But here the seniors are i n a double-bind: i f they f a i l to transmit such knowledge, the legacy i s l o s t , but i f such knowledge loses i t s secret character and becomes publ i c , i t i s thereby destroyed and becomes valueless. For t h e i r own part, novices soon become aware of the same dilemma, and tend to view t h e i r own knowledge as well with suspicion and skepticism (cf. Jones 1976), 444 The pervasive themes of ignorance, knowledge, and deception are highlighted i n the i n i t i a t i o n system, and these themes are a l l t i e d to secrecy. Sometimes, e s p e c i a l l y i n e a r l i e r i n i t i a t i o n s , weng doo i n the form of r i d d l e s are posed, and some of these contain apparently insoluble paradoxes. Returning to the r i d d l e of the b i r d i n the dagasal ban ( i v . ( a ) . above), there i s no apparent answer to the question of whether the b i r d i n the old man's hand i s dead or a l i v e . The problem i s v i s i b l e enough, f or i t i s cl e a r that i f the boys answer that the b i r d i s dead, the old man may release it- and l e t i t f l y free simply by relaxing h i s gr i p . I f , on the other hand, they answer that the b i r d i s a l i v e , he can extinguish i t s l i f e merely by tightening h i s fi n g e r s . The correct answer i s that the bird's l i f e i s i n the old man's hand—k a l a p m i sagaldiim alba ko—but very few boys ever see t h i s answer. In a sense, however, the "correct" answer i s i r r e l e v a n t , for the lesson i s also about not knowing and applies to a l l : to speak incautiously b e l i e s knowledge, j u s t as to divulge a secret i s to destroy i t (cf. the episode of Umoim and Afek's c h i l d r e n ) . We have seen that secrecy has many dimensions i n T e l e f o l society. On one l e v e l , secrecy serves as a fundamental ordering p r i n c i p l e , operating i n the realm of words and knowledge as a serie s of tabus or disjunctions that define and i n a sense underwrite the dimensions of human order embodied i n a l l p r o h i b i t i o n s , ' Here we might view secrecy i n the same l i g h t as p r e s c r i p t i o n s dealing with commensality or even marriage regulations. That i s , the boundaries created with secrecy define the population and p a r t i t i o n i t into categories i n terms of the passage of words i n much the same way that T e l e f o l food tabus (with which much of the domain of weng amem concerns i t s e l f ) p a r t i t i o n the population i n terms of food sharing. As a system of d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n and exchange, the outlines of the system of r e s t r i c t i o n s on knowledge and speech generate a d i v i s i o n of labour between men and women, seniors and j u n i o r s , and between Taro and Arrow sides. In these terms we can 445 say that much of the structure of T e l e f o l society i s the consequence of the general p r i n c i p l e that a l l members of the community—including even senior adepts, excluded from t o t a l possession of knowledge by the d i v i s i o n s between Taro side and Arrow s i d e — a r e , r e l a t i v e to others, i n some state of "not knowing". Further, t h i s d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n represents and i n a sense generates the ordering which serves as the i d e o l o g i c a l underpinnings for wider realms of experience, u l t i m a t e l y underwriting the necessity of r e c i p r o c i t y and mutual dependence between s e l f and other. On another l e v e l , we can see that the ordering power of secrecy i s an e s s e n t i a l l y conservative one, preventing and f o r e s t a l l i n g d i s s o l u t i o n and entropy, i n much the same way i n which the other tabus serve the same end. Here a p e c u l i a r i t y of the nature of s e c r e t s — t h e i r dependence on both sharing and non-communication f or t h e i r existence—makes them p a r t i c u l a r l y s u i t a b l e for such a r o l e , since secrets themselves d i s s o l v e i n the t e l l i n g . They thus serve admirably as veh i c l e s f o r the enactment of the r o l e of men as guardians of a f r a g i l e order dependent on t h e i r conduct. F i n a l l y , secrecy as a process has a creative aspect, one that seems p a r t i c u l a r l y v i t a l i n T e l e f o l c u l t u r e . Here I would argue that the separation between the world of everyday experience and the amem world serves not simply to in s u l a t e these worlds from each other, but i n fact c a l l s them into being as d i s t i n c t worlds, re l a t e d through secrecy as kuuk i s to magam. This must surely be one of the implications of Simmel's observation that the secret " o f f e r s the p o s s i b i l i t y of a second world alongside the manifest world" (1950:330). And of course, t h i s much should be cl e a r from what we have seen of the whole i n i t i a t i o n process, and here the "set apartness" of the secret, so intimately t i e d to notions of the sacred, c a r r i e s with i t a hint of the numinous, pointing beyond the apparent and everyday world (cf. Otto 1958). The transparency of truth i n the everyday world i s c a l l e d into question by the opacity of the secret, and here l i e s what I f e e l must be the key to the 446 extraordinary richness of that domain of T e l e f o l culture embodied i n the category of weng amem. The p r e d i l e c t i o n towards esotericism i n T e l e f o l r i t u a l and myth i s an arrangement of successive versions of r i t e s and narratives i n which each subsequent variant encompasses and obviates (cf. Wagner 1979) those that went before. For example, one of the themes underlying much of the r i t u a l system and the organization of c u l t a c t i v i t i e s i s the separation of nurturing and k i l l i n g , v i l l a g e and bush, men and women. These provide the oppositional axes i n terms of which a range of experience i s ordered and made i n t e l l i g i b l e . But we have already seen how at various stages of either myth or r i t u a l these discriminations become re-sorted (e.g., the wild animals being fed by Afek i n T e l e f o l i p ) or turned on t h e i r heads—here the k i l l i n g of the kong amem i n the middle of the garden during the iman ban i s a p a r t i c u l a r l y s t r i k i n g example. Up u n t i l the time that t h i s takes place the novices have been c a r e f u l l y warned that k i l l i n g and taro gardening must be segregated and that blood and taro are incompatible. And now, when the secrets of taro f e r t i l i t y are to be revealed to them, the very act which they have been cautioned against takes centre stage i n the conduct of the r i t e . Nor i s t h i s a l l . Those who l a t e r become experts i n the Taro side w i l l l earn that while every one else i s excluded from the fofolam the taro experts (tenum abem kasel) are having a secret meal of marsupials that they hunted at night while they were supposedly dozing o f f i n the katibam. They w i l l further l e a r n — t o t h e i r s hock—that the favoured marsupials f o r th i s secret meal are the ones prohibited to men and permitted only to women. This, from the point of view of the old men privy to t h i s r i t e , i s the e s s e n t i a l act of the e n t i r e ban, the one that i s most meaningful. They w i l l also learn l a t e r how t h i s i s explained i n an even more secret myth of the Afek-Umoim s e r i e s i n which Afek castrates and commits incest with her brother, and how Umoim's penis was buried to become the Taro.Vine, and how the Taro Vine i s intimately t i e d to the o r i g i n s of both the katibam and the dungam, as 447 w e l l as the hunting of marsupials. F i n a l l y , they w i l l learn on t h e i r entry to the katibam—from whose r a f t e r s w i l l hang scores of -marsupials-—that i t i s d i f f e r e n t from a l l the other yolam i n one s t r i k i n g way: i t has only a single hearth, and within the katibam the d i v i s i o n between Taro hearths and Arrow hearths i s no longer present. Some of these w i l l l a t e r learn that t h i s i s so because the katibam i s the men's dungam (also known as am katib), a f t e r which i t i s copied. This w i l l l a t e r be linked to a number of other contexts, p a r t i c u l a r l y the b i r t h feast of marsupials held at the dungam ~ from which men are excluded. But a l l of these new reve l a t i o n s , which imply a t o t a l l y d i f f e r e n t conception of the work of the iman ban, w i l l only be made a v a i l a b l e to men a f t e r t h e i r formal i n i t i a t i o n s have been completed, and even then w i l l only be revealed i n t h e i r f u l l e s t sense to the men of Taro.side. Here I would l i k e to point out that i t i s secrecy which enables a si n g l e r i t e to be several d i f f e r e n t r i t e s simultaneously. Further, i t i s clear that much of the force of each successive r e v e l a t i o n i s that i t controverts expectations: i n the case of the t r u l y amem aspects of the iman ban k i l l i n g has been turned into nurturing, the bush has been brought into the v i l l a g e , and the most sacred of men's houses i s shown to be a surrogate menstrual hut. R i t u a l r e v e r s a l i s of course commonplace, and i t might be tempting to view the secrecy surrounding such p r a c t i c e s as an attempt to insula t e the mundane order from the contradictions of the sacred/secret performance. Such a view finds support i n much of the T e l e f o l material, but does not go f a r enough. Instead, I would argue that t h i s r i t u a l negation i s announced and ent a i l e d i n the l o g i c of amem, the l o g i c of the sacred that i s also the secret. Secrecy sets the stage f o r r e v e l a t i o n , and r e v e l a t i o n generates a metaphorization of the given (see Wagner 1972; Turner 1962; Ricoeur 1977), Through secrecy the d i a l e c t i c of known and not-known i s engaged and set i n motion. 448 If we view the notion of secrecy from the perspective of epistemology and schemes of knowledge, the p o s i t i o n can perhaps be made clea r e r . Speaking of the Iatmul, Bateson (1958:230-6) has remarked upon t h e i r fondness for paradox and the multitude of contradictions within a highly elaborated esoteric t r a d i t i o n , and van Baal (1966:929-31) had made s i m i l a r observations about Marind-anim cu l t u r e . Writing of the Baktaman, Barth has given considerable treatment to s i m i l a r schemes of knowledge and finds the analogy of Chinese boxes, each in s i d e the other, h e l p f u l . Here the boxes represent successive e s o t e r i c l e v e l s , with the walls of the boxes being constituted by the b a r r i e r s of secrecy. The l o g i c of t h i s i s , I believe, akin to the l o g i c of gift-wrapping i n our own culture, Just as coloured paper, ribbons, and bows announce to the r e c i p i e n t that he i s about the receive a g i f t whose nature i s unknown to him, so the opacity of the secret announces to others that there i s "something e l s e " but that i t i s something of which one i s ignorant. For Telefolmin, secrecy gives r i s e — p a r t i c u l a r l y i n the i n i t i a t i o n c o n t e x t — t o the notion that r e a l i t y ' s obvious layer masks other and cliffevent r e a l i t i e s . This a c t i v e l y shapes—and indeed c a l l s f o r t h — t h e process of r e v e l a t i o n . Disputing the claims of the given to exhaustive truth, secrets and t h e i r r e v e l a t i o n not only enlarge upon the world as given but c a l l i t into question as w e l l . For r e v e l a t i o n to carry force and conviction i t must expose one's p r i o r knowledge as incomplete and i n some sense defective. In common-sense terms, secrets could not be secrets i f they were obvious. This was a point w e l l appreciated by my mentors whose most s u r p r i s i n g , improbable, and wonderful revelations were accompanied by wide-eyed whispers of qfeen ko, . afeen ko yal (True, true!) A l l of t h i s attended by c l i c k s , whistles, nods, and sage chuckles. For the Iatmul i t i s c l ear that the case i s much the same: Among the Iatmul the d i a l e c t i c i a n s and theologians are not a c l a s s apart but are, as we have seen, the chief contributors to the c u l t u r e . Thus i t comes about that many of the complications of the culture can be seen as 449 tours-de-force played upon,.. paradox, devices which stress the c o n t r a d i c t i o n between emotional and cognitive r e a l i t y or between d i f f e r e n t aspects of emotional t r u t h (Bateson 1958:232). The p a r t i c u l a r force of t h i s l o g i c i n r e l a t i o n to apparent r e a l i t y i s dramatically demonstrated i n one incident that took place while I was l i v i n g i n Derolengam: Dagayok and Beksep (father and son) went into the forest at night to hunt marsupials. Dagayok climbed a tree to shoot at a possum and when he got near the top of the tree i t gave way and broke, throwing him to the ground. He was knocked unconscious and his back was injured. When he regained consciousness Beksep a n g r i l y berated him, saying that h i s in j u r y was h i s own f a u l t . Beksep said that had Dagayok revealed to him the weng amem that enables men to f l y , he could have broken h i s father's f a l l with a few words. But as i t was, he couldn't save Dagayok's back, a l l because of Dagayok's secretiveness and s e l f i s h n e s s . . . In such a s i t u a t i o n , what could Dagayok do? If he denied he had any such knowledge, Beksep would simply have been more resolute i n h i s condemnation. Instead, Dagayok adopted the course of hi n t i n g that perhaps when Beksep completed a l l of h i s bans he might teach him t h i s weng amem. I l a t e r heard p r i v a t e l y that Dagayok himself was t r y i n g to locate such weng amem. The only c e r t a i n t y he himself had was that he didn't know. This i s one of the important c o r o l l a r i e s of the l o g i c of T e l e f o l secrecy, and i s i m p l i c i t i n the assumption that the truest and f u l l e s t possible knowledge i s that which one does not possess. I f my understanding of the T e l e f o l view i s correct, conventions of secrecy carry t h e i r own logic;" about the nature of knowledge per se, and t h i s l o g i c contains an i n t r i n s i c paradox: that which you know is not true knowledge. Knowing, i n any ultimate sense, becomes a d e f i n i t i o n a l i m p o s s i b i l i t y . This i s the meta-message of secrets and secrecy with the co n t i n u a l l y receding horizon of c e r t a i n t y and the apparently endless ser i e s of v e i l s behind v e i l s . Something learned at one stage i s almost c e r t a i n to be superseded by what i s learned next. What has been presented as truth may l a t e r be exposed as incomplete, i t s import re-juggled. 450 And the process continues. R e a l i t y i s thus p a r c e l l e d out i n several alternate versions, some more a u t h o r i t a t i v e than others, but none of them c e r t a i n to have the truth within i t s grasp. In t h i s sense, then, the greatest s i n g l e aspect of weng amem's import i s the r e a l i z a t i o n a r t i c u l a t e d by some old men that they don't really know. The greatest secret of a l l i s that nobody knows the real secret. v i i i . Magalim and the Meaning of Meaninglessness The chief f i g u r e i n T e l e f o l cosmology i s Afek, and men come to know of her through t h e i r introduction into the world of the yolam. In addition to Afek h e r s e l f , there are other actors who have roles to play i n the Afek cycle, among them Umoim, her younger brother, Kwiinagim, a wild man who raped Afek and was k i l l e d by her, and Ataanim, the Sun. Of a l l these subsidiary characters, Umoim i s the most s i g n i f i c a n t while the others serve mainly as f o i l s for the development of the plo t of the narratives. There i s , however, one other f i g u r e whose place i n T e l e f o l cosmology i s r a d i c a l l y d i f f e r e n t from that of any others so f a r mentioned. His name i s Magalim. Afek i s the ancestress and culture heroine of the T e l e f o l people, the one who established the c u l t u r a l order of the Telefolmin. Magalim i s a bush s p i r i t . Afek i s most s i g n i f i c a n t to Telefolmin i n her legacy of weng amem and the d e t a i l s of the r i t e s of the men's c u l t , as well as the serie s of elaborately a r t i c u l a t e d t a l e s about her. Magalim, by contrast, intervenes and impinges upon Telefolmin frequently i n the course of t h e i r l i v e s . Curiously, he i s the subject of only a s i n g l e and i s o l a t e d myth, one unrelated to the Afek cycle. He i s something of an enigma, and i n t h i s s e c t i o n I w i l l t r y to explicate h i s signficance i n the T e l e f o l scheme of things, Magalim was f i r s t introduced to me by the Pidgin term masalai. Masalais are a general category of bush s p i r i t s f a m i l i a r to many New Guinea peoples (cf. Mead 1970). One of the things that struck me when I began to 451 e l i c i t the T e l e f o l names and words for the Pidgin masalai was that there seemed to be a plethora of them, and the bush seemed crowded with masalai l u r k i n g here and there. A l a n d s l i d e at a place c a l l e d Samantemkot was at t r i b u t e d to a being c a l l e d Samantem Kayaak ('Samantem Owner'); a man who got s i c k near a place c a l l e d Ilimtem blamed t h i s on Ilimtem Kayaak, another masalai. When I got sores a f t e r fording the Abung River I was t o l d that t h i s was due to a female masalai, an aanangen, who frequented the area. Aanangen are female beings with holes under t h e i r armpits and who have only one breast on t h e i r lefthand side; they look a f t e r and tend wild pigs, occasionally seduce men i n the f o r e s t , and sometimes exchange t h e i r own c h i l d r e n f o r those of careless mothers i n the bush. And they cause accidents: another aanangen caused a tree to f a l l on D l i b a l as he was c l e a r i n g a new garden i n the bush. In addition to aanangen, who almost always are a source of trouble, there are others i n the bush, also c a l l e d masalai i n Pidgin, such as uununang ('bird women') who look a f t e r b i r d s , or nukamin ('marsupial people') and nukunang (/marsupial women') who watch over the marsupials. When discussing Bagelam, the land of the dead, I was t o l d of the huge dog whose secret name i s B i s i i l k i and guards the road t h e r e — h e too i s a masalai. In a myth about a huge snake, Ungkigingim, I was t o l d that he was a masalai as w e l l . F i n a l l y I began to ask how many masalai there were. There were many names, my informants explained, but i n fa c t there . was only one masalai whose true and secret name i s Magalim. In the words of one man, Magalim i s also c a l l e d Bagan Kayaak or Aanang Kayaak. This means that he 'bosses' the ground. The things of the ground are h i s . He causes landsl i d e s and sometimes ruins gardens. He i s around pools and places where the ground i s opened up or i s broken, or where there are caves (tern). He can turn himself into a snake, or a man, or a wild p ig, or other things. He can turn himself into a l l kinds of things. Men may see many things, but there i s t r u l y only one, Magalim. He has always been here, even before Afek came. According to another, 452 Sometimes they c a l l him Aanang Kayaak or Tenum Misim or Magalim, They b e l i e v e i n him, they s t i l l believe i n him yet. He's not a man. This snake [Ungkigingim] was Magalim. I t was l i k e a c h i l d of h i s , that's a l l . , and th i s thing came up and they saw i t . He was around a long time before, before Afek came. He has no o r i g i n (magam— also means 'meaning' or 'explanation'), And so i t went— they believed i n him and t h i s snake c h i l d came up. They see l o t s of things, but there i s only one Magalim. He bosses birds and l i z a r d s and marsupials and wild p i g s — a l l the things of the bush. Again, Magalim i s only one, but he can turn himself into many things, you may see many things, but they are not t r u l y Magalim. He j u s t turns himself i n t o things. We don't know what he w i l l do. When men see him, he l i e s and deceives them. We don't know what he w i l l do—he can be both f r i e n d (dup) and enemy (waasi). He's a bad one. He' s.. magalo, we don't know about him. And: Nukamin and nukunang look a f t e r marsupials. Aanangen look a f t e r wild pigs. Magalim himself looks a f t e r snakes and eels. A l l these things are j u s t names. The true thing i s Magalim—at i s r e a l l y j u s t Magalim who looks a f t e r these things. It has always been t h i s way, since before Afek came. A l l the things of. the bush are Magalim's c h i l d r e n , Magalim man. If you f i n i s h these things, Magalim i s t h e i r father and he w i l l repay i t with sickness, or he w i l l send bad dreams and you w i l l die. His small names are Bagan Kayaak or Aanang Kayaak because he bosses the ground. They c a l l him Tenum Miitim becuase he looks a f t e r a l l the men. But his big name i s j u s t Magalim. B i s i i l k i i s another name, because he i s quick and greedy l i k e a dog, but B i s i i l k i i s Magalim. This i s the f a m i l i a r problem of "the One and the many" (cf. Evans-Pritchard 1954), for Magalim i s both ubiquitous i n the bush and l o c a l i z e d . He i s a "shape s h i f t e r " (cf. Campbell 1972), presenting many manifestations which are v i s i b l e and can be described (including s p i r i t beings such as aanangen or nukunang), but none of these are t r u l y him. He i s both immanent and transcendent. He i s also a deceiver, though not quite the same as a T r i c k s t e r (cf. Radin 1956). His being pertains to that which i s hidden and i n v i s i b l e . Occasionally, men encounter Magalim i n the bush and have v i s i o n s , but what 453 they see i s never t r u l y him and never p r e c i s e l y what i t seems, though i t may be f u l l of s i g n i f i c a n c e f or men's a f f a i r s , He may drive people mad, ei t h e r temporarily or permanently, but he can also bestow powers on i n d i v i d u a l s . For example, Kenusep's mother was mad, and t h i s was the r e s u l t of her intercourse with Magalim i n the bush. She refused to marry and was i n the habit of wandering from place to place i n the bush, harvesting taro from the gardens of others; the stal k s that she thus gained were c a r r i e d to yet other gardens, where she planted them and harvested yet more taro and so on. Eventually, she was shot by one of the men of her v i l l a g e , who had become exasperated with her behaviour, leaving Kenusep as an orphan. Though many people looked a f t e r him, they s t i l l f e l t him to be at a disadvantage—his mother had cleared no land h e r s e l f , and nobody knew whether Magalim had set land aside for him or not. But from an ea r l y age he showed outstanding i n i t i a t i v e and strength, and t h i s was a t t r i b u t e d to the fac t that Magalim was h i s father. In 1974 he demonstrated h i s strength and stamina by winning a fi v e - m i l e cross country race i n a strong f i e l d , as he has done many times since. Though an orphan, Kenusep i s pr e t e r n a t u r a l l y powerful, f o r he i s a son of Magalim. Though Magalim deceives, encounters with him can also l i f t the v e i l that normally stands between what men may see and what they may not; the seers (usong) who have the a b i l i t y to see i n r e f l e c t i o n s the s p i r i t s causing i l l n e s s acquire t h e i r v i s i o n as the r e s u l t of an encounter with Magalim i n the bush. To yet others he has given the a b i l i t y to see into Bagelam, the land of the dead which he guards. And as Magalim i s the master of a l l the things of the bush, so he i s the one to whom men turn f o r success i n hunting. Telefolmin know that when a man goes hunting h i s success does not depend on whether or not there i s a c t u a l l y any game present, for game i s always i n the bush. The successful hunter i s the one who i s able to see game, and though t h i s may be aided by various c u l t s p i r i t s , i t ultim a t e l y depends upon Magalim's wi l l i n g n e s s to l e t the game be seen. It i s for t h i s reason, 454 regardless of what other measures may be taken, that hunters are i n the habit of asking Magalim f o r h i s assistance i n the f o r e s t , and i t i s for the same reason that they take a l e a f or two of tobacco or some sweet r i p e bananas and hang them i n the branches of trees as o f f e r i n g s to him. But t h i s i s no guarantee of success, for Magalim cannot be coerced, and men are uncertain whether he takes these o f f e r i n g s or not: sometimes the o f f e r i n g i s gone, sometimes i t remains; sometimes men see game, and sometimes i t remains hidden, They don't know whether or not Magalim l i s t e n s to t h e i r requests, for i n the end i t i s his a f f a i r . Magalim i s e s s e n t i a l l y c a p r i c i o u s , for h i s nature i s non-reciprocal (cf. Burridge 1969). Men who go about alone i n the f o r e s t — p a r t i c u l a r l y at night to hunt marsupials—may be tossed from mountaintop to mountaintop and l e f t stranded high up i n the f o r e s t canopy for no other reason than t h i s i s what Magalim does. H i l l s i d e s crumble and s l i p down slopes, carrying the fo r e s t and whatever gardens there are into the streams below. Streams which can normally be waded may r i s e suddenly, sweeping gardens with them i n t h e i r rush to the S e p i l , Sinkholes and cave entrances i n the limestone occasionally well up with water, the t r i c k l e s i s s u i n g from t h e i r mouths instantaneously transformed into torrents that uproot and toss about the trees of the bush. Occasionally men view what appear to be garden clearings on d i s t a n t mountain flanks, only to f i n d that they comprise vast stretches of f o r e s t f e l l e d i n a tangle without the mark of a s i n g l e axe. A l l these things are the actions of Magalim. Magalim i s autonomous, a priori., and non-reciprocal, and we learn something of h i s nature from the sole myth Telefolmin t e l l about him: Before, at T e l e f o l i p , there were a man and a woman, Dununagim and h i s wife Biyalomen. These two were married and they went out to Dugunbil to make yol s a l t . They made s a l t and then slept i n the bush, and that night Dugunagim had intercourse with Biyalomen. He had intercourse with Biyalomen, but some one else's penis went into her at the same t i m e — t h i s was Magalim, he was having intercourse with her too, hut they didn't know. They went back to T e l e f o l i p and Biyalomen was pregnant, Dugunagim heard word that h i s friends i n Bultem had some things for him, so he went out over the mountains to the source of adzes (fubi miit) and bonang and bows (uunuk.miit), He went to get a fubi and bring i t back. After he had gone Biyalomen was i n her garden one day and her husband came up to her. She saw him and then the two had intercourse there i n the garden. But th i s wasn't her husbandT—she thought so, but i t was r e a l l y the bad man, Tenum Mafagim. This was Magalim.. They had intercourse and then he disappeared and she went home to T e l e f o l i p , and thought to h e r s e l f , " a i ! My husband's i n Bultem, and the next day i t was time for her to bear her c h i l d . She went out into her garden i n Metambil and when she was there her waters broke and she gave b i r t h . She gave b i r t h to a c h i l d , but i t was no c h i l d , i t was a snake c h i l d , Ungkigingim. His face was strange, i t was d i f f e r e n t (sinik migik) . This Ungkigingim was the bad snake, Inap Mafagim. He was Magalim. She saxo him and said "oo! I've borne a snake c h i l d ! " . He was there, but she didn't give him her breast. She put him i n a small shelter made of dry sugar sta l k s (kwet fubuuk am), and then she s p l i t some large bananas and arranged them around him, l i k e a fence, and then under him she placed some banana leaves. When she did t h i s , she l e f t him there and went back to T e l e f o l i p . He ate a l l kinds of insects and spiders around the place, and when Biyalomen came back the next day to see him, he was huge, as thick around as the base of a t a l l hoop vine. When she came, he wanted to eat her, but she said, "no! You can't eat me-—Irm not 7some other woman, I'm your mother!". Later, Biyalomen's brother Biyalengim came to see the c h i l d and Ungkigingim too wanted to eat him. But Biyalengim said, "no! You can't eat me—I'm not some other man, I'm your mother's brother". And so i t went. Biyalomen would go out to make her gardens i n the bush and sometimes Ungkigingim would go with her, sometimes he would j u s t roam around the bush eating spiders, and a l l the while he grew larger and la r g e r . When Biyalomen went back to T e l e f o l i p , Ungkigingim would go up to Metamtibin and watch along the fork i n the path there. He waited there. One day Dugunagim came back along t h i s track from Bultem with the fubi he had got. He came up and he saw t h i s Ungkigingim, and Ungkigingim saw him too. Ungkigingim asked him who he was, and Dugunagim didn't recognize him and was getting ready to f i g h t him, so he answered "I have j u s t come back from fubi miitI". Ungkigingim didn't think about h i s father, he j u s t swallowed him whole. He swallowed him whole and then he became r e a l l y huge, his father .was insi d e h i s b e l l y . When dark came, he climbed up into the branches of a filim tree to sleep. That night there was r a i n and thunder. Biyalomen had been looking for Ungkigingim a l l night u n t i l dawn, and when dawn came she went to the fork i n the track at Metamtibin. She looked around, and she saw Ungkigingim up i n the tree, and she saw her husband's fubi a n a penis gourd and cane waist loops l y i n g on the ground. And she saw Ungkigingim l'.s. b e l l y , She. saw a l l t h i s , and then she said to Ungkigingim, "what did you do?". He made no answer but instead stuck h i s tongue out at her and waved i t from side to side, "Bid you eat your father?" Again he waved h i s tongue at her, ..... and Biyalomen knew. She ran o f f to T e l e f o l i p and gathered the men together there and said to them, "my son. j u s t ate h i s father!". The men were a l l angry, and took up t h e i r adzes and t h e i r bows and set off to k i l l Ungkigingim. One man only, Biyalengim, t r i e d to stop them, saying, "he's my c h i l d , you can't k i l l him". But Biyalengim wasn't a good man, he was a bad man (tenum mafak) and was small and ugly and they didn't l i s t e n to him. A l l the men went up to Metamtibin and surrounded the filim tree where Ungkigingim was. They t r i e d to shoot arrows at him, but t h i s didn't work and the arrows f e l l harmlessly to the ground. Then they began hacking at the base of the filim tree with t h e i r adzes. When they did t h i s , Ungkigingim said to them, " a l l my father's brothers (.aaningal) should l i n e up on one side, and a l l my mother's brothers (ogosal) should li n e , up on the other s i d e — t h a t way i t w i l l be easier to k i l l me". He said t h i s , and they believed him and did what he said. They chopped and they chopped and the tree began to sway back and f o r t h , f i r s t to t h i s side, then to that side. When i t leaned one way, Ungkigingim would lean the other way and make i t swing back, each time g l a r i n g down at the men below and frig h t e n i n g them. They chopped and they chopped, and f i n a l l y the tree was about to f a l l . I t swayed over towards Ungkigingim's mother's brothers, but as i t was about to collapse Ungkigingim leapt across to the other side and f e l l on his father's brothers and k i l l e d them. He k i l l e d many—Dolapnok was k i l l e d , Isanbagayap was k i l l e d , Mitamnak was killed—many men. The other men wanted to k i l l him, but he chased them, chased them back across the Ok I f i , chased them up towards I l i n t i g i n . Then he went up and,into the swamp c a l l e d Kulinipkumun, between I l i n t i g i n and Mimtigin. He went there and then the men followed with t h e i r bows and arrows. They t r i e d to shoot at him, but i t didn't work. They took long s t i c k s and t r i e d to poke around i n the water f o r him, but they didn't get him, and instead fished out the taro c a l l e d kuliim. They kept up at t h i s , but they couldn't get him. Then he came out of the water and was huge and began to chase them. They were frightened and shot t h e i r arrows at him and then ran back towards T e l e f o l i p . Ungkigingim came and stayed a while at Mofumtulumdiim among the stones there. There was a crocodile there (maatup) that was so frightened when he came up that i t ran away down the Sepik. . A l l the men came back to T e l e f o l i p , they were going to run away and prepared to leave. There they saw Bi^^alengim. Biyalengim had j u s t come back from gardening, and h i s penis gourd had broken, so he had gotten a boolkum vine to t i e i t back together. There a l l the strong and handsome men 457 (tenum kas,ak) t o l d Biyalengim, the ugly one (tenum mafak), what had happened. They t o l d him t h i s Ungkigingim was going to k i l l them a l l and was headed for the v i l l a g e , and they said he should run away with them while there was time. Biyalengim paid them no attention, and merely put h i s netbag and firewood and taro leaves i n h i s house. He to l d them, " i t ' s a l l r i g h t , i f my c h i l d wants to k i l l me, he can". Then he took up h i s bow and a small biyal bilil arrow (normally used f o r hunting marsupials) and went through the hoop pines behind T e l e f o l i p and waited at the junction of the men's and women's paths for h i s s i s t e r ' s c h i l d to appear. Ungkigingim came up, and when he saw Biyalengim he stuck out h i s tongue and waved i t from side to side. Then he came down into the hoop pine grove, turned h i s head, and bared h i s heart to Biyalengim so he might shoot him. Ungkigingim t o l d Biyalengim to shoot him i n the heart; and as"Biyalengim"drew h i s bow he c a l l e d - h i s s i s t e r ' s name, saying, "Biyalomen bubul waaga!" [Biyalomen's heart i s i t ! ] . Ungkigingim died on the spot, and h i s t a i l thrashed around and broke up the earth i n the grove and broke up the land around the women's path. His skin shed i t s e l f and rotted and h i s blood and f l e s h f e l l o f f and rotted too—some of t h i s can be seen i n the bamboo thicket growing near the hoop pine grove. Then Biyalengim took a bamboo knife and cut up what remained of Ungkigingim. Men came f r o n r a l l ;over and they d i s t r i b u t e d h i s bones to them f or arrow work, for the work of un miit. These bones are hot for the f i g h t . Biyalengim's bamboo knife i s s t i l l here now i n T e l e f o l i p , i n the house of Suumengim, This story i s weng amem. This snake c h i l d was Ungkigingim, and he was l i k e Magalim's son—but he was Magalim himself. They k i l l e d t h i s snake, but Magalim didn't d i e — h e l i v e s s t i l l . Through a ruse and by intruding unseen Magalim i s the author of his own b i r t h , and as the snake Ungkigingim he grows to huge proportions over-night, though h i s human 'mother' refuses to suckle him. He swallows h i s human father whole, and when the man's k i n come to avenge Athe death i t i s * h e — through t r i c k e r y as well as through h i s awesome strength—who k i l l s them. He then leads h i s pursuers a merry chase, and when they t r y to k i l l him i n the swamp of Kulinipkumun ("Kulinip i s pregnant"), they come up with a new v a r i e t y of taro instead. F i n a l l y , he goes to T e l e f o l i p where h i s mother's brother, who had t r i e d to protect him, i s shown how to k i l l him, even though Biyalengim has nothing but a poor biyal arrow to use. Ungkigingim leaves h i s bones behind as r e l i c s for warfare and hunting, and though Ungkigingim (who was both 458 Magalim and l i k e h i s c h i l d ) diedj Magalim himself remains, This t a l e of course has many d i f f e r e n t implications - r-l; was t o l d by an audience* of senior i n i t i a t e s that when I narrated our Oedipus story I had a c t u a l l y stolen the t a l e of Ungkigingim, or else our ancestors had forgotten that we had brought i t with us when we l e f t T e l e f o l i p . They followed t h i s with a point by point analysis, showing how i n our Oedipus t a l e cross-roads and thunder go together, how sons k i l l fathers, and so on; how we had forgotten that the Sphinx and Oedipus were one and the same person, how a father's neglect and f a i l u r e to acknowledge a son leads to d i s a s t e r . A l l of t h i s i s present i n the t a l e . But what i s more important i s that i t conveys i n words a sense of who Magalim i s , a d i f f i c u l t task, since Magalim defie s d e f i n i t i o n , Magalim i s without o r i g i n , without magam;' he was around before Afek ar r i v e d ; he i s present now, long a f t e r Afek ceased to be a c t i v e i n human a f f a i r s ; he w i l l always be, even a f t e r Telefolmin pass out of existence. He i s the world. Like the ground with which he i s associated, Magalim i s e t e r n a l , without beginning or end. Magalim i s paradoxical and puzzling, and not only for the ethnographer, f o r — a s Telefolmin say—he i s unknown and hidden to them. But before we go further i n t r y i n g to determine j u s t what Magalim's s i g n i f i c a n c e i s for Telefolmin, l e t ' s review what Telefolmin know and how they come to know i t . The progress of a T e l e f o l youth to manhood i s charted by h i s passage through the successive stages of i n i t i a t i o n . In a l l , t h i s i s a process covering perhaps f i f t e e n years or more and p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n a h a l f dozen d i f f e r e n t r i t e s . Though, as we have seen, there i s a great deal of v a r i a t i o n from one r i t e to the next, there are c e r t a i n features that characterize them as a whole. In most of them the i n i t i a n d s are removed at one stage or another from the v i l l a g e proper and undergo various p r i v a t i o n s and t r i a l s i n the bush, including beatings with switches and firebands, sleeping motionless 459 and exposed i n the f o r e s t without f i r e , being showered with hot coals. In many of the bans beatings follow assurances that a l l w i l l be w e l l , and threats are sometimes shown to be shams. Deception and t r i c k e r y play a large part here. There are numerous r a t i o n a l e s f or such treatment of i n i t i a n d s . Often there i s an e s o t e r i c explanation unknown to the i n i t i a n d s which i s couched i n terms of f o l k physiology, as when beatings are thought necessary to loosen the novices' skin so that further growth may take place, or when flogging with n e t t l e s and showering with hot coals i s thought to impart 'heat' to them i n the i n t e r e s t s of r i t u a l e f f i c a c y . Side by side with these accounts are more public r a t i o n a l e s , as when the i n i t i a n d s are being made to "pay" for previous bad behaviour or are "paying" for future p r i v i l e g e s , or when men say that the whole process simply toughens up the youths so that they w i l l become hardy, strong, able to endure hardship and f e a r l e s s i n the face of danger. But while each of these ra t i o n a l e s has some r e a l i t y f o r those who make them, i t i s also clea r that something else i s involved. Men who speak of t h e i r experience as i n i t i a n d s stress not only t h e i r fear and apprehension, but also t h e i r confusion and uncertainty during the course of the i n i t i a t i o n s . Conventional expectations and c e r t a i n t i e s no longer hold and the i n i t i a n d s are, i n Turner's phrase (1969:86) "beside themselves". Here we can r e c a l l the words of one of the mafuumdet: "I s i t here at the base of the wild pandanus, the cold makes me shiver, I hear something down below, but I don't know what i t i s . . . " . Here too we should r e c a l l the youths' i n s t r u c t i o n i n the weng amem of the Afek sang, i n t h e i r progressive introduction to the various myths of the cycle and the s e r i a l r e v e l a t i o n s . i t embodies. Here, at some point, i t becomes clear to the novices that the more they learn the l e s s they know, for there i s always a secret beyond what they have learned, always something that remains. One of the consequences i s a c e r t a i n amount of skepticism and uncertainty, 460 e s p e c i a l l y among younger i n i t i a t e s : when questioned on the d e t a i l s of the myth cycle, they express doubt that t h e i r knowledge i s complete and harbour suspicions that t h e i r seniors have withheld information from them i n the i n t e r e s t s of protecting secrecy or for reasons that remain hidden, This i s consistent with a theory of e s o t e r i c knowledge that maintains that such knowledge i s true and valuable i n inverse proportion to the number of those who share i t (see Jones 1976, Barth 197.5), This view of the contingency of revelations of hidden r e a l i t i e s i s consonant with experience, for what youths are t o l d at one stage i s revised and i n some senses contradicted i n subsequent stages. Not only that, but the process o f . r e v e l a t i o n and r e v i s i o n continues w e l l beyond the formal i n i t i a t i o n sequence. Thus, i t i s only aftev a man has completed h i s s e r i e s of i n i t i a t i o n s that he i s allowed to p a r t i c i p a t e i n — o r even be e x p l i c i t l y aware o f — t h e secret iman dung ceremony. Iman dung i s b a s i c a l l y a f i r s t - f r u i t s r i t e deemed e s s e n t i a l to the continued prosperity of taro gardens. The ceremony i s cloaked i n secrecy—key phrases are performed s i l e n t l y at night and i n the bush—and i t s very existence i s c a r e f u l l y concealed. The myth which serves as a charter for iman dung l i n k s the Afek sang concerning the o r i g i n of taro with the narratives concerning the o r i g i n s of the katibam and dungam and impresses upon the men the f a c t that, among other things, when they are eating taro they eat Afek's vaginal secretions ( o r d i n a r i l y regarded with r e v u l s i o n ) . In addition, the r i t e involves the secret consumption of b i r d s , marsupials, snakes, and frogs i n the yolam, a v i o l a t i o n of one of the f i r s t of the tabus surrounding the yolam that youths are taught on t h e i r f i r s t entry into the system. In t h i s , the iman dung i s merely the l a t e s t of a long s e r i e s of instances i n which men are required to do what they were previously taught was forbidden (amem). Taken as a whole, a man's entry into the world of the yolam and h i s p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the esoteric world of the c u l t can be viewed as a s e r i e s of 461 shocks (cf. Schutz 1970;254-5) followed by a r e v i s i o n of h i s previous understandings of the world, to. be followed by more shocks and subsequent reshaping. If part of the project of i n i t i a t i o n s i s to make r e v e l a t i o n s — t o give knowledge and open t h e i r e y e s - — i t also seems that part of the process i s a matter of producing d i s o r i e n t a t i o n , confusion, and ambiguity. Perhaps then i t i s not so mysterious that the novices are expressly t o l d not to think about what they are t o l d , but merely to l i s t e n and allow i t to "sink i n " . This r a i s e s the question of what eso t e r i c knowledge i s "about". On one l e v e l i t i s possible to detect a t r a j e c t o r y of movement from outer to inner layers of knowledge. The general message of the e a r l i e r and outer layer i s that s i g n i f i c a n t aspects of the c u l t u r a l order were ordained by Afek, and most important among Afek's works was the establishment of the: precedents for the r i t u a l s upon which Telefolmin depend for success i n t h e i r enterprises. At a deeper and subsequent l e v e l , myth becomes more than a patent, for instrumental usages and provides a r a t i o n a l e f or these usages and indeed for why things are as they are. Beyond t h i s , however, they also show that the way things came about was through a seri e s of errors and transgressions so that the present world i s an impoverished and flawed successor to the world of Afek, one that was ruined by man's greed for knowledge and h i s attempts to assert c o n t r o l . Along with t h i s goes the general message about knowledge: knowledge has a r e l a t i v e and tentative q u a l i t y , and the knowledge that i s most secret i s that which i s f u l l e s t . The o v e r a l l message of the c u l t i s therefore ambiguous, and t h i s i s expressed i n at t i t u d e s about the r e l a t i o n of Afek and Magalim. Afek i s the source, the o r i g i n of a l l that i s meaningful i n the T e l e f o l world. Both meaning and o r i g i n are conveyed by a si n g l e word, magam. Whenever I asked f o r the d e f i n i t i o n of a word, I asked for the weng magam, the 'speech o r i g i n / meaning'. When a man t e l l s h i s genealogy, he i s giving h i s tenum magam, which i s both explanation of who he i s and an account of h i s o r i g i n s . Indeed, 462 explanations • f or Telefolmin very often become a matter of accounting f o r the o r i g i n s of something, or how i t came to be, and i t i s i n t h i s sense that the myths of the Afek cycle comprise the magam of T e l e f o l culture as a whole. If meaning i s figured by the word magam, I t s denia l i s encompassed i n that which i s magalo, that which i s unknown, opaque,: without discernible', o r i g i n or..meaning. 3 In t h i s sense, magalo i s the negation of magam. Thus, stories and narratives are generally c a l l e d sang, but rumours whose f a c t u a l basis and meaning are unknown are c a l l e d magalo sang. Things which are unseen and of which no d i r e c t knowledge i s possible are magalo, j u s t as men use :the word magalo :to.-say "I don't know". The name Magalim i s the p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n of magalo, through the addit i o n of -im, a masculine name s u f f i x . Magalim i s the hidden one, the unknown one, the meaningless one. When we compare Afek and Magalim as fi g u r e s , a number of contrasts become evident: Afek i s associated with the v i l l a g e and the p r o t o t y p i c a l c u l t u r a l pursuit, taro gardening, while Magalim i s of the bush and has associations with hunting; Afek came and founded T e l e f o l i p and then died, leaving a legacy of knowledge which men transmit to successive generations; Magalim i s ever-present and l a r g e l y unknown, except by the unpredictable encounters i n i t i a t e d by him. Afek can thus be taken to betoken the determinacy of r a t i o n a l i z a t i o n and human order, while Magalim s i g n i f i e s — a m o n g other things-^the indeterminacy of events i n the world. And t h i s accords n i c e l y with the i m p l i c i t ambiguity of knowledge and r i t u a l i n the men's cult,, f or i n i t i a t e s say that regardless of the performances of r i t u a l , a l l enterprises u l t i m a t e l y depend upon Magalim—not upon t h e i r weng amem or t h e i r s p e l l s . For i s i t not true, they reason, that Afek and a l l men ever since " s i t down on top of the ground", that i s , rest u l t i m a t e l y upon Magalim? That Magalim stands somehow i n opposition to the c u l t u r a l order i s evident i n a number of ways. In discussing Magalim, men often remark that he "works against Afek", "always ruins Afek's work", "or that he breaks her 463 4 ' l a w ' " — f o r example, by t r i c k i n g men i n t o k i l l i n g t h e i r f r i e n d s , The r e l a t i o n between Magalim and human order can be approached i n other ways, Awareness and r a t i o n a l i t y are conveyed by the word sinik. Sinik i s t h a t p o r t i o n of a person which comprises h i s s o u l , shadow, r e f l e c t i o n , image, v i t a l i t y , p e r s o n a l i t y , and awareness ( c f . Barth'1975:101). A f t e r death i t i s the sinik which becomes a bagel and t r a v e l s to Bagelam. Trauma of any s o r t , e s p e c i a l l y s u r p r i s e or f e a r , can lead to a f l i g h t of sinik, causing a l o s s of awareness. Sometimes t h i s i s only momentary, as when a person i s s t a r t l e d or awakened suddenly. I f the absence of the sinik i s of longer d u r a t i o n , the r e s u l t i s a f a i n t or l o s s of consciousness; i f the l o s s i s permanent, the r e s u l t i s death, and u t l i m a t e l y death may be defined as the permanent separation of one's sinik and body. Many of Magalim's a c t i v i t i e s and a s s o c i a t i o n s can be shown to be i n i m i c a l to sinik. One instance i s the b e l i e f that encounters w i t h Magalim can r e s u l t i n temporary or permanent madness, being the confusion of sinik. "Bad dreams" are another case i n p o i n t , . Even the a c t i v i t i e s of seers and mediums (usong), whose power i s derived from encounters w i t h Magalim, depend on the temporary s e p a r a t i o n of sinik and the body as t h e i r awareness enters the hidden world. Magalim i s i n t i m a t e l y a s s o c i a t e d w i t h water and coldness, which al s o pose dangers to sinik. When enemies were k i l l e d an o c c a s i o n a l a l t e r n a t i v e to e a t i n g the body was to toss i t i n t o a stream. In so doing the sinik was extinguished so that the v i c t i m could not even become a momoyok—"he ended w i t h h i s name". Though Magalim may be the cause of sores or i l l n e s s f o r many, he r a r e l y k i l l s except through accidents (e.g., f a l l s ) . The one exception to t h i s i s that i n f a n t s are p a r t i c u l a r l y v u l n e r a b l e to him. T h i s seems to be p a r t l y because t h e i r sinik does not seem f i r m l y bound to them, and small c h i l d r e n are indeed o f t e n s t a r t l e d , a f r a i d , or s u r p r i s e d ; there i s a common a c t i o n performed by mothers to bind t h e i r c h i l d r e n ' s sinik to them i n such instances." Further, a mother w i l l be sure to anoint her baby with red ochre on i t s f i r s t and perhaps subsequent sojourns to the bush, and t h i s i s done to protect the c h i l d from Magalim (see Brongersma and Venema 1962: plate 12). F i n a l l y , we should r e c a l l that sinik i s an a t t r i b u t e not only of men, but of a l l domestic crops and animals as opposed to those of the wild. These are a l l things which come from Afek, which men nurture and look a f t e r . But the wild things of the bush have no sinik-—they are Magalim's c h i l d r e n . Here we may once again contrast the domestic pig (kong) with the wild pig (saaman). One of the evidences that kong have sinik i s t h e i r awareness of the moral terms of r e l a t i o n s h i p s , t h e i r a b i l i t y to f e e l shame, t h e i r engagement i n human r e l a t i o n s h i p s ; the j saaman ^of. Magalim's domain are without sinik, are amoral, predatory, and antagonistic. To a l l the things of sinik Magalim stands opposed. In a l l t h i s we must be c a r e f u l , however, for we err i f we view the s i g n i f i c a n c e of Magalim i n purely negative terms, or i f we relegate him to a mere r e s i d u a l category of experience. Indeed, Magalim's r o l e i n T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i s e s s e n t i a l l y p o s i t i v e and c r e a t i v e . Magalim i s transcendent i n many senses: he eludes form, i s a shape-s h i f t e r , refuses to be contained within conventional categories and r a t i o n a l i z a t i o n s . As B i s i i l k i he i s the Greedy One that devours t r a v e l e r s on t h e i r way to Bagelam; as Tenum Misim he i s the Generous One who makes game v i s i b l e and permits access to the unseen world. He i s without o r i g i n (magam) or end, he i s eternal and indeterminate. Most of a l l , he i s beyond knowledge: the meaningless, hidden, unknown. In a l l of these respects he transcends the l i m i t s of human knowledge, i s always j u s t beyond the f i e l d of v i s i o n . I t is t h i s which Telefolmin t r y to a r t i c u l a t e when they say they don't know him. He i s i n e x p l i c a b l e ; Magalim imi magam be magalo kwa,, Magalim's magam i s magalo. The Meaningless One's meaning i s meaningless. 465 Turner has written of how the Ndembu attempt to a r t i c u l a t e what cannot be put into words or eyen be conceived i n Chihamba—through the use of paradox the Ndembu t r y to approach "the act of being" beyond the appearances of existence, and i n so doing they go beyond the n e c e s s a r i l y discontinuous character of systems of a r t i c u l a t e thought (1969:83-7); 1975:18-9). For Telefolmin, Magalim i s beyond the boundaries of the conceivable, but as "being" and event he i s c o n t i n u a l l y manifest i n experience, for Magalim subsumes a l l experience which eludes the framework of r a t i o n a l i z a t i o n . If we view human experience from the perspective of a tension between event and r a t i o n a l i z a t i o n (Burridge, pers. comm.) we can see how both poles are recognized i n T e l e f o l thought with recourse to Magalim and Afek re s p e c t i v e l y . As event, Magalim constantly prods awareness with new and singular experience. That much of t h i s i s untoward i s undeniable and e x p l i c i t i n T e l e f o l thought. But the cr e a t i v e side i s recognized as well. Magalim often comes to: mind whenever things go wrong, and he.offers an i m p l i c i t c r i t i q u e of the technological aspects of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n . The recognition that success depends upon Magalim i s a recognition that r e a l i t y w i l l often take i t s own course and refuse to f i t or be coerced, regardless of what r i t u a l measures are adopted (cf. Douglas 1966:200ff). In the process, Magalim o f f e r s an i n v i t a t i o n to Telefolmin to consider r e a l i t y from new perspectives, and though t h i s may be adumbrated i n the madness which he some-times i n f l i c t s on others, the i n v i t a t i o n i s sometimes taken up with innovative r e s u l t s . In pre-contact times Magalim's g i f t of v i s i o n with two eyes {tiin aloop) permitted seers to grope with the problems posed by i l l n e s s , often diagnosed as transgressions against usong and sometimes located i n tamoon sorcery with which neighbours might redress grievances against each other. More recently, twenty-five years of contact had culminated in. 1974 i n a c r i s i s i n the yolam c u l t . The inroads of missions and the establishment of a 466 government school proved to be events to which Afek's legacy was vulnerable, A p r o h i b i t i o n on exposure b u r i a l precluded the p o s s i b i l i t y of acquiring the bones of outstanding men as the men amem of the yolam. The breach between l i v i n g and dead was widened and completely beyond men's reach, and now the number of usong i n a yolam could only dwindle and be reduced by a t t r i t i o n . Besides t h i s , young boys eager to become men i n the world beyond Telefolmin's ranges wanted to become l i t e r a t e and were reluctant about undergoing i n i t i a t i o n — t h e presence of an a l i e n administration prohibited compulsion, and they were allowed to go t h e i r own way. The o v e r a l l r e s u l t of these developments was the complete los s of the dead to the l i v i n g and an ever-growing gap between T e l e f o l men and the younger generation of boys: a rupture of the c u l t system i n p a r t i c u l a r and i n the society as a whole. In 1973 there arose a handful of new seers (usong), a l l of whom were men i n t h e i r twenties, a l l of whom acquired t h e i r v i s i o n through encounters with Magalim, and a l l of whom presented the innovative p o s s i b i l i t y of est a b l i s h i n g contact with the recently dead, who were forced to depart immediately for Bagelam because they were buried i n the ground. In 1974 th e i r ranks were joined by a t h i r t e e n year old schoolboy who had also had an encounter with Magalim. The boy was unique i n t h i s and also i n the fact that he had been hurried through several i n i t i a t i o n s by Femsep, a senior kinsman who feared that h i s stock of esot e r i c l o r e would soon be l o s t (his sons had l e f t f o r work on the coast). What emerged from t h i s was a movement, c a l l e d Ok Bembem, and misleadingly c a l l e d kako kals ('.cargo, c u l t ' ) i n P.idgin. The issues to which the c u l t was addressed, however, had 'cargo' as only a 6 peripheral element. Seances were held i n numerous locatio n s during which the boy's sinik would go to Bagelam while that of a dead person would come and speak through him. This was a s i g n i f i c a n t innovation i n several ways. The boy i n s i s t e d that the seances could include women and ch i l d r e n i n the audience (departing from c u l t p r a c t i c e but incorporating features of both the classroom 467 and church s e r v i c e s ) , and he was p a r t i c u l a r l y adept as a medium between deceased children and t h e i r l i v i n g parents (thus reversing the normal d i r e c t i o n of communication between s p i r i t s and the l i v i n g ) . In addition, he was able to report that Bagelam was not l i k e a C h r i s t i a n heaven (nobody there had seen Jesus C h r i s t ) , but was not very d i f f e r e n t from the land of the l i v i n g : the dead had to work hard too, and they also had the new things that Telefolmin had come to regard as part of t h e i r l i v e s , such as clothing and tinned food. Ok Bembem was not widely accepted, at least not without question. Mission adherents (who are s t i l l a minority of Telefolmin) were strongly opposed, and a great many others were s k e p t i c a l . For some i t had an appeal, p a r t i c u l a r l y i n the case of those who had l o s t c h i l d r e n whom they wished to contact. By the time I l e f t i n l a t e 1975, the fate of Ok Bembem was s t i l l uncertain: the novelty had worn o f f for many, but i t continued to hold':the i n t e r e s t of others. What the c u l t does i n d i c a t e i s that Magalim provides the open door through which the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of new awareness may be approached. 468 CHAPTER 5 CONCLUSION—TELEFOL RELIGION AND WHAT IT MEANS "I f there i s one b e l i e f (however the f a c t s r e s i s t i t ) that unites us a l l , from the evangelists to those who argue away inconvenient portions of t h e i r texts, and those who spin large p l o t s to accommodate the discrepancies and dissonances into some larger scheme, i t i s t h i s c o n viction that somehow, i n some occult fashion, i f we could only detect i t , everything w i l l be found to hang together" (Kermode 1979:72). It i s an anthropological commonplace that r e l i g i o n operates i n human society to f o s t e r a sense of the wholeness of things, e s t a b l i s h coherence, promote i n t e g r a t i o n , t i e together the strands of experience, underwrite a sense of s e c u r i t y , minimize anxiety, and so on (cf. Geertz 1966; Malinowski 1948; Spiro 1968). I t i s also the case that there i s a f a i r l y widespread notion that r e l i g i o n o f f e r s i l l u s o r y solutions to r e a l problems, that i t masks the world (a " f a l s e consciousness" theory), and that i t engenders a s p e c i f i c a l l y conservative ideology whose roots are i n fantasy and i r r a t i o n a l i t y . Thus i t i s that r e l i g i o n can be painted as the t o o l of the powerful who may use "supernatural sanctions" to mask t h e i r r e a l power (or stand i n i t s stead), while at the same time o f f e r i n g imaginary hope to the weak, who are kept meek i n i t s service. If we look at the men's c u l t i n Telefolmin from any of these perspectives we w i l l f i n d evidence i n support of a l l of them. For example, i t i s c l e a r that the c u l t i s o r g a n i z a t i o n a l l y important and provides not only the nucleus of men i n community at the v i l l a g e l e v e l but also serves—through the T e l e f o l i p — t o integrate a l l the T e l e f o l v i l l a g e s together i n c o l l e c t i v e r i t u a l s . We can thus say that the c u l t , as the organizational dimension of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n , i s c r i t i c a l as the fundamental bonding component of T e l e f o l 469 s o c i a l structure, and t h i s i s i d e o l o g i c a l l y r e f l e c t e d i n the r o l e of the c u l t i n the struggle against entropy. Here too we f i n d that the thrust of the broadest-scale r i t e s (mafuum ban, iman ban, un baal) i s to promote success i n the projects of producing men, grox^ing taro, hunting, and warfare. In a l l of these respects the yolam and i t s c u l t serve to promote security, integration, and the order of T e l e f o l society: i t provides the hub around which both the s o c i a l structure and men's most immediate concerns turn. From the point of view of s o c i a l s t r u c t u r a l analysis, the c u l t engenders s o l i d a r i t i e s (Telefolmin vs. others, men vs. women) and shapes the d i v i s i o n s of the s o c i e t y — i t i s the means whereby T e l e f o l society becomes more than an abstraction, where the world of r i t u a l and r e l i g i o n carry the f u n c t i o n a l load taken up by the p o l i t i c a l maneuverings of big men and the m o b i l i z a t i o n of massive exchange r e l a t i o n s i n other New Guinea s o c i e t i e s ( p a r t i c u l a r l y those of the Highlands, e.g., the Melpa [Strathern 1971], the Enga [Bulmer 1960; Meggitt 1967, 1974], and Chimbu [Brown 1970]). If we s h i f t our focus to the concerns of i n d i v i d u a l s rather than the c o n s t i t u t i o n of the society as a whole, we f i n d the c u l t can be seen to play a s i m i l a r r o l e . Thus i t i s that with the a c t i v i t i e s of the c u l t — e s p e c i a l l y those r i t e s concerning taro production—men may be said to f o s t e r confidence i n t h e i r actions i n the mundane world, and (following Malinowski's l i n e of reasoning) t h i s i s the s o c i a l l y organized use of magic to lend s e c u r i t y to men i n t h e i r attempts at what can be a r i s k y and insecure business, the production of subsistence crops i n an environment which i s not always amenable to man's e f f o r t s . Thus we can say that the r i t u a l s of the c u l t confer the i l l u s i o n of control over processes that are b a s i c a l l y outside the realm of human mastery. It i s also possible to say that the intensive i n s t r u c t i o n given i n i t i a n d s i n the c u l t serves to perpetuate and inculcate the accumulated a r t i c u l a t i o n s of the T e l e f o l world view as embodied i n myth. Here we can say, then, that i n a 470 general way the c u l t imbues experience with meaning and establishes a frame of reference whose coherence makes the world i n t e l l i g i b l e . Turning to the negative side of the ledger, i t i s also possible to argue that T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n promotes the m y s t i f i c a t i o n of some of the c e n t r a l contradictions of the society, e s p e c i a l l y with regard to the fundamental issue of the arrangement of r e l a t i o n s between men and women. The s t r i c t exclusion of women from c u l t a c t i v i t i e s makes the world of r i t u a l and r e l i g i o n an e n t i r e l y male domain over which they exericse a thoroughgoing monopoly. With recourse to the i l l u s o r y and c a r e f u l l y stage-managed dramatization of men's asserted c o n t r o l over higher powers, they not only enforce t h e i r hegemony over hunting and warfare, but pre-empt the r o l e of women i n the domains of c h i l d -b i r t h and gardening by asserting c o n t r o l over the maturation of men (t h e i r transformation from boys to f u l l i n i t i a t e s , both a p h y s i o l o g i c a l and c u l t u r a l reconstruction seen i n terms of metaphors of bi r t h ) and over the growth of . . gardens. Here, then, the two most s i g n i f i c a n t spheres of female p r o d u c t i v i t y — c h i l d b i r t h and gardening—are denied t h e i r status as authentic feminine contributions because men usurp the e s s e n t i a l r o l e s of c o n t r o l l i n g , d i r e c t i n g , and ul t i m a t e l y guaranteeing the f r u i t i o n of these contributions. Thus the world of the c u l t functions at an i d e o l o g i c a l l e v e l to negate men's de facto dependence upon women as the source of c h i l d r e n and taro (and sustenance i n general) by interposing the i l l u s i o n of r i t u a l control between women and th e i r consciousness of the r e a l i t i e s of the case. I t thus serves to enhance men's power by concealing or screening o f f those aspects of r e a l i t y which threaten male hegemony. As a r e s u l t , a s i t u a t i o n i n which the sexual d i v i s i o n of labour could only under the most generous terms be viewed as complementary (since women provide the largest increments of labour i n gardening and are the ones who p h y s i c a l l y produce ch i l d r e n and run the r i s k s — v e r y r e a l — o f c h i l d -b i r t h ) i s transformed into one i n which men are i d e o l o g i c a l l y — i f not veally— the senior partners, the ones whose r o l e i s d e c i s i v e . Thus, while women are 471 only t a c i t l y acknowledged as the source of a l l that men value, the cu l t both i n theory and p r a c t i c e counters t h i s by placing men at centre stage as the c u l t u r a l l y defined c o n t r o l l e r s of the fate of a l l . Thus the f i n a l and fundamental c o n t r a d i c t i o n — a t l e a s t , when viewed from the outside-—the f a c t that women are indeed the basis of power, i s masked by the ideology of the men's c u l t which argues that the ultimate c o n t r o l of such power forever l i e s i n men's hands and, further, that men exercise such power as a service to the community as a whole. From t h i s point of view the peripheral and almost i n v i s i b l e p o s i t i o n of the dungam—the house i n which women are confined and i n which they give b i r t h — c a n be seen as a clear expression of i d e o l o g i c a l masking. Here i t i s possible to detect an underlying a s s e r t i o n of complementarity between the sexes—women are forbidden access to the yolam, men must not approach the dungam—that i s a l l the more t e l l i n g because of the i l l u s i o n upon which i t res t s . In the dungam women bring f o r t h l i f e to the exclusion of m e n — i t i s , as men say, the road by which a l l men enter the world. But women confined i n the dungam are i n ef f e c t i n v i s i b l e and s o c i a l l y " o f f - l i m i t s " — w h a t takes place i n the dungam takes place beyond the c i r c l e of houses i n the v i l l a g e , behind everyone's back, and out of sight and awareness. This i s where l i v e p e o p l e — . a l l T e l e f o l m i n — o r i g i n a t e , but i s swept under the carpet, as i t were. Thus i t i s that while there are c e r t a i n s i m i l a r i t i e s between the yolam and the dungam— those that make for a sense of complementarity—there are also quite dramatic di f f e r e n c e s , with the combined e f f e c t of asserting the p r i o r i t y of the yolam over the dungam. In t h i s manner the men, with t h e i r exclusive access and contr o l i n the realm of the occult and the world of s p i r i t s (usong) f i r s t share the stage with women and then upstage them. Thus while i t i s possible to see the yolam as being analogous to the dungam— i n the former the men are intimately connected with the dead who are asserted to be powerful i n promoting l i f e , i n the l a t t e r the women are the source of ch i l d r e n and bring 472 f o r t h new l i f e — t h e s t r i k i n g d i f f e r e n c e s between the two are a l l the more i n s t r u c t i v e . The dungam i s i n v i s i b l e to. anyone standing i n s i d e the v i l l a g e , i n s i d e the part of the world accorded precedence and value i n the scheme of things; the yolam, the mother house,.is not, however, tucked out of s i g h t — i t v i r t u a l l y dominates the v i l l a g e , both p h y s i c a l l y and i d e o l o g i c a l l y . This understanding of the r e l a t i o n of the yolam and dungam i s confirmed by some of the d e t a i l s of T e l e f o l conception theory. Here one finds two p e c u l i a r i t i e s : men are extremely reluctant to discuss the d e t a i l s of conception, protesting that such things are " d i r t y s t o r i e s " (sang mafak), that the e n t i r e matter i s disgusting, that men should not even think about such t h i n g s — a n d some argue that t h i s i s amem to men and i s properly known only to women. At the same time, i t develops that the men and the women hold d i f f e r e n t but systematically related theories of conception. With regard to the f i r s t matter, i t was only with some d i f f i c u l t y that I managed to get men to speak to me about conception, and those who did explained that they were t e l l i n g me such things only as an act of f r i e n d s h i p . According to the men, a foetus i s formed by the combination of sexual f l u i d s of men and women as a r e s u l t of i n t e r -course. Thus the mother's vaginal secretions (nok kul, 'vagina kul1—in other contexts kul simply denotes white viscous bodily f l u i d s , i n p a r t i c u l a r pus) and the father's semen (et ok, 'penis water') together make up the body of the growing c h i l d . It i s for t h i s reason that one act of intercourse i s deemed i n s u f f i c i e n t for conception, since there must be some accumulation of semen for the foetus to form; at the same time, once pregnancy has advanced beyond the cessation of menstruation, intercourse should cease, l e s t the a d d i t i o n a l semen go to produce a second foetus and twins be made, making for a dangerous and d i f f i c u l t b i r t h . Here i s where the men's theory of conception ends, a f a i r l y simple and thoroughly cognatic version of how c h i l d r e n come into being. The women are aware of t h i s theory and they confirm i t . But i n addition they say that t h i s i s an incomplete account of the f a c t s at issue. 473 According to the women, t h i s only accounts for the formation of the f l e s h and blood of the foetus. The bones of the c h i l d , however, have another source not mentioned by the men: the bones are formed by an accumulation of womb blood ( i . e . , menstrual blood, nok isak). It i s t h i s that accounts for the cessation of menstruation with pregnancy, and thus i t i s — a c c o r d i n g to the women's v e r s i o n — t h a t a person's bones (kun = also 'strength') are dervied e x c l u s i v e l y from h i s or her mother without any corresponding male contribution. The i d e o l o g i c a l i m p l i c a t i o n i s r e l a t i v e l y straightforward: i t i s the women, and not the men, who have the predominant r o l e i n producing c h i l d r e n , and the men's reluctance to discuss the " d i r t y " (mafak, ninak-so) d e t a i l s of the p r o c e s s — along with t h e i r professed ignorance—serves to mask t h i s and suppress a public acknowledgement of the issue. At the same time, i t i s the case that the bones of the dead are retri e v e d and brought into the yolam—appropriated, we might say. These are the major r e l i c s of the men's c u l t which, i t w i l l be r e c a l l e d , must be i s o l a t e d from sexuality (recent intercourse) and feminine procreative powers. So i t i s that through the various tabus and other mechanisms of the c u l t that men can have t h e i r cake and eat i t too: menstruation and c h i l d b i r t h are both bloody messes that are dangerous and are exorcised from the arena of public l i f e , while men gain c o n t r o l of the bones (formed of precisely the substance held i n such i l l repute, menstrual blood) which play a cen t r a l r o l e i n men's c u l t l i f e . And so the dungam ( s i g n i f y i n g women's natural and " r e a l " productivity) i s both exploited and brushed aside i n favour of the yolam ( s i g n i f y i n g men's r i t u a l and " i l l u s o r y " p r o d u c t i v i t y ) . By now i t should be c l e a r , then, that i t i s indeed possible to see that much of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n serves to perpetuate male supremacy through i d e o l o g i c a l sleight-of-hand, one of the most potent means of which i s the masking and concealment of contradictions i n the society at large. A l l of t h i s i s r e a d i l y apparent to the outside observer and may be confirmed with recourse to d i f f e r e n t kinds of evidence. But here caution i n i n t e r p r e t a t i o n 474 seems required. We have already seen how i t i s equally possible to see T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n as a source of i n t e g r a t i o n and coherence and as an i d e o l o g i c a l system that serves to prevent people-from understanding what i s going on. While i t i s possible to r e c o n c i l e these i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s ( p a r t i c u l a r l y i f we subordinate one to the other) i t seems to me that they both r a i s e problems that neither of them i s capable of r e s o l v i n g . The T e l e f o l men's c u l t may both be a device for s t a b i l i z i n g what men see as a precarious world and at the same time serve as an elaborate instrument of male hegemony enhanced by secrecy and c a r e f u l l y managed i l l u s i o n s . But such i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s — w h i l e v a l i d — d o not r e a l l y go far enough and are flawed by t h e i r f a i l u r e to consider some c r i t i c a l questions posed by the character of the i n i t i a t i o n process. Further, though t h i s may be more d i f f i c u l t to demonstrate, i t seems to be a serious misreading of the case to presume that T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i s founded upon falsehood, convenient ( i . e . , s o c i a l l y useful) f i c t i o n s , or necessary i l l u s i o n s — l e t alone out-and-out f l i g h t s from r e a l i t y . What escapes these various i n t e r p r e t i v e courses i s an appreciation not simply of what T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n means i n terms of the society as a whole, but what i t means to i t s p r a c t i t i o n e r s . We can l e g i t i m a t e l y and f r u i t f u l l y view T e l e f o l (or any other) r e l i g i o n i n the context of s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s , but t h i s may well t e l l us more about the l a t t e r than the former. Rather than pursue the s o c i o l o g i c a l dimension of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n , I choose instead to consider a problem posed by the material that can only be grasped i f we understand T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n as i t informs men about t h e i r p o s i t i o n i n the world. The problem, most simply put, i s t h i s : T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i s r i d d l e d with paradox and co n t r a d i c t i o n (cf. Barth 1975:235-8) and rather than evading contradiction (which might be assumed to be i d e o l o g i c a l l y convenient) i t dramatizes and elaborates the discrepancies and dissonances of T e l e f o l culture. This i s a point of overriding importance, and a f a i l u r e to come to 475 terms with i t precludes any serious understanding of what T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i s about. Indeed, i t i s only by recognizing and according due weight to t h i s problem that the content of the elaborate i n i t i a t i o n scheme and the layers of esoteric knowledge make sense. I w i l l t r y to demonstrate t h i s by a review of what we have seen so f a r . I began t h i s account with a consideration of the background of T e l e f o l l i f e i n terms of p o l a r i t i e s that approximate the Levi-Straussian notion of "oppositions" and are the s a l i e n t features of the backdrop against which Telefolmin play out t h e i r l i v e s . ' Each p o l a r i t y comprises a p a i r of poles that are i n some sense i n a contradictory r e l a t i o n to each other, e.g., gardening and hunting, the v i l l a g e and the bush, friends and enemies, men and women, and so on. In my rendering of these p o l a r i t i e s I attempted to inform them with the content of T e l e f o l experience while conveying a sense of the ambivalence inherent i n men's atti t u d e s concerning these dimensions of experience. Underlying t h i s i s a general problem about the nature of continuity and d i s c o n t i n u i t y i n the T e l e f o l world. That i s , while each of the poles of a given p o l a r i t y may at the extremes be c l e a r l y d i s t i n c t from and a n t i t h e t i c a l to i t s opposite number, there are various ways i n which i t becomes problematic to p r a c t i c a l l y d i f f e r e n t i a t e them because at some point the d i s c o n t i n u i t y becomes muddled and ambiguous: i n the course of t h e i r l i v e s men are i n one way or another co n t i n u a l l y traversing the divides between one pole and the other. Thus i t i s that the extremes are r e l a t i v e l y e a s i l y kept d i s t i n c t — p l a n t i n g taro i s d i f f e r e n t from hunting wild p i g s — b u t they may i n pra c t i c e become jumbled u p — a man may surprise a wild boar and k i l l i t i n h i s garden, domestic pigs are fed, but only so that they may be k i l l e d . The v i l l a g e i s one's home, but one's work i s c a r r i e d out i n the bush. And so on. Here, a l b e i t q u i e t l y , we can see the outlines of a general problem i m p l i c i t i n T e l e f o l c u l t u r e , and one to which T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n addresses i t s e l f , the tension between order and i t s opposite. 4 7 6 In Chapter 3 I tackle the r e l a t i o n between order and entropy i n Telefolmin. The problem has two dimensions, since we—as a l i e n s to the T e l e f o l world—must construct some notion of the T e l e f o l order of things while at the same time Telefolmin themselves are faced with the problem of est a b l i s h i n g a world i n which i t i s possible to l i v e sensibly. The T e l e f o l sense of the world i s that i t i s a place i n which a l l t h e i r aims and projects are in-jeopardy. This i s manifest i n a number of d i f f e r e n t ways. We may begin with what Telefolmin take as given, the assumption that the world at large i s at best i n d i f f e r e n t to men's w i l l and that i t i s more commonly arrayed i n opposition to i t . This i s evident throughout the gamut of the T e l e f o l experience of the world. Misfortune abounds, not as an exceptional state, but as a.condition of existence. Here we enter upon the domain of r e l i g i o n , for t h i s i s what i n other idioms i s cast as the problem of s u f f e r i n g . This i s the problem of entropy, the T e l e f o l sense that i n the end a l l they do w i l l come to naught— bi-niman, 'becoming nothing'. Entropy i n Telefolmin amounts to l o s s , diminution, d i s s i p a t i o n , and decay. Seen temporally, t h i s i s the i r r e v e r s i b l e trend towards decline: pigs and men are fewer and smaller, the ranks of the dead i n Bagelam grow while the numbers of the l i v i n g dwindle and old age besets men at a quicker and quicker pace. This i s accompanied by the continual threat of los s i n other senses: wives, c h i l d r e n , pigs, and taro may run away while garden rai d e r s (wild pigs, f r u i t bats, marsupials) and enemies menace men and what they care f o r . On an organizational l e v e l the issue of entropy, i s manifest i n the c e n t r i f u g a l s cattering of households i n bush gardens and i n the e f f o r t s men make to enforce v i l l a g e endogamy and ensure the r e c i p r o c a t i o n of women i n marriage. In a l l of these ways men's world i s precarious and f r a g i l e , and i t i s taken for granted that t h i s i s indeed the nature of the world at large: the d r i f t toward entropy i s i n e v i t a b l e , things are bound to f a l l apart. 477 This i s the context i n which T e l e f o l s o c i e t y i s s i t u a t e d , and i t i s p o s s i b l e to i n t e r p r e t much of the T e l e f o l s o c i a l order i n terms of the c o n f r o n t a t i o n w i t h entropy. This i s p a r t i c u l a r l y evident i n the comprehensive system of tabus that provide the c l e a r e s t set of guides f o r conduct. Most prominent among these are the food tabus, which serve to keep a n t i t h e t i c a l q u a l i t i e s and p o t e n t i a l s d i s t i n c t . Here order i s introduced through a d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n s e r v i n g to r e g u l a t e and f o r e s t a l l entropy. Through these e s s e n t i a l l y negative means ( p r o h i b i t i o n s ) men engender the d i s c r e t e n e s s upon which the i n t e g r i t y of the s o c i a l order depends. The o v e r a l l s t r a t e g y seems to be to s t r i v e towards a c l a r i f i c a t i o n and s t r u c t u r i n g of the cosmos by i n s u l a t i n g a n t a g o n i s t i c and a n t i t h e t i c a l realms from one another. I t i s by such means that d i s c o n t i n u i t y i s e s t a b l i s h e d between the v a r i o u s p o l a r i t i e s of T e l e f o l l i f e , and here we can say that T e l e f o l c u l t u r e promotes coherence through d i s j u n c t i o n . Lest i t be thought that t h i s d i s c u s s i o n has strayed from the r e a l world and i n t o the realm of s p e c u l a t i v e a b s t r a c t i o n , we should r e c a l l that a l l of these i s s u e s are f o r T e l e f o l m i n matters of immediate relevance. Entropy i s not merely contemplated, i t i s experienced. I t i s the experience of gardens ravaged by w i l d p i g s , of daughters eloped to other v i l l a g e s , of. c h i l d r e n dead before t h e i r time, of wives absconded and enemies preying upon those one loves. Entropy i s abandonment and d e p r i v a t i o n , the wres t i n g from men of a l l they work and l i v e f o r . Order, then, i s not merely an a e s t h e t i c preoccupation but a v i t a l n e c e s s i t y — i t i s the means whereby men achieve some measure of c o n t r o l over t h e i r own l i v e s : t h i s i s what order means. The most powerful way i n which order i s e s t a b l i s h e d i n T e l e f o l c u l t u r e i s through amem, the absolute m o d i f i e r . To say that something i s amem i s to say i t i s apart, separate, forbidden, tabu, and sacred. I t i s a l s o a way of saying that:- something i s s e c r e t . Amem i s a r e l a t i o n a l term, not a th i n g i n i t s e l f but a s p e c i f i c a t i o n of a r e l a t i o n between t h i n g s . F i r s t and 478 foremost, amem s p e c i f i e s difference. That i s to say, d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n and d i s j u n c t i o n are c r i t i c a l entailments of "amem-ness". Here tabu-as-difference helps to i n h i b i t the flow of entropy by i n t e r d i c t i o n (cf. Wagner 1977). Ordering through i n t e r d i c t i o n and r e s t r a i n i n g entropy by t h i s means are manifest i n a number of dimensions of T e l e f o l cosmology. Perhaps the most pervasive and meaningful of these i s the p r o h i b i t i o n on contact between processes and forces of l i f e - g i v i n g versus those of l i f e - t a k i n g (see Rosaldo and Atkinson 1975). The former i s associated with taro and gardening, with pig husbandry, with women, the colour white, etc.; the l a t t e r has connections with hunting and warfare, with men, and the colour red. It i s in. terms of such a d i s t i n c t i o n that a number of p r o h i b i t i o n s — e s p e c i a l l y those concerning taro gardening and the regulation of c e r t a i n aspects of the r e l a t i o n between the sexes—become i n t e l l i g i b l e as a means of p a r t i t i o n i n g and arranging what i s taken to be an e s s e n t i a l l y d i s o r d e r l y cosmos. The segregation of these a n t i t h e t i c a l dimensions of the world i s manifest i n a number of other features of the T e l e f o l s o c i a l order, including the p r o h i b i t i o n s on incest and the consumption of one's own pigs. Such d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n u l t i m a t e l y defines the differences between nurturing and k i l l i n g , s e l f and other, giving and taking. The most s t r i k i n g instrumentality of order i s the men's c u l t centring on the yolam. It i s here that one enters the world of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n , and i t i s i n and through the yolam. and i t s c u l t that the world of men i n Telefolmin i s anchored, both concretely ( i . e . , o r g a n i z a t i o n a l l y ) and i d e o l o g i c a l l y : here men j o i n t h e i r e f f o r t s to combat entropy. The yolam i s the repository of r e l i c s and the home of usong. by means of which men rescue the past and themselves from the o b l i v i o n , from the nothingness of entropy. Within the community of the yolam the informal but pragmatically problematic d i v i s i o n s between households are neutralized and transcended i n the i n t e r e s t s Of the society as a whole. Instead, men are now grouped together and distinguished from one another on the basis of the overriding d i v i s i o n 479 between nurturing and k i l l i n g — T a r o and Arrow—which s p e c i f i e s the i n d i v i d u a l and c o l l e c t i v e i d e n t i t i e s within the yolam. Here we can see that the yolam i s at once the f o c a l point of T e l e f o l society and T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n : i t i s the guarantor of order i n the T e l e f o l world, an indispen s i b l e adjunct for the success of men's enterprises, and o f f e r s the cl e a r e s t expression of the fundamental d i v i s i o n that underwrites T e l e f o l conceptions of order. The yolam i s the T e l e f o l reply to the questions posed by entropy and disorder. It i s the home of sacredness—amem i n i t s e l f , the embodiment and apotheosis of order through d i s j u n c t i o n . Up to t h i s point the discussion has led us to the threshold of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n , but we have not yet entered i n s i d e . Seen from the outside i n t h i s manner, i t i s poss i b l e to understand the o v e r a l l context i n which T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i s situated. Should we leave the discussion at t h i s point, we would remain i n a p o s i t i o n to say that what T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n does i s to foster s e c u r i t y and coherence i n the T e l e f o l world, that i t i s the chief instrument of the s o c i a l and cosmological order, and t h a t — i n s h o r t — i t functions as a sort of crutch or support for an otherwise shaky society and system of b e l i e f . But aside from such time-honoured i f threadbare generalizations, we have done l i t t l e to a c t u a l l y understand T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i t s e l f : i t s content remains opaque or without apparent relevance, and we have (in a s p i r i t which may be consistent with T e l e f o l a t t i t u d e s towards sacredness and secrecy) turned i t into a "black box". Given r a t i o n a l i s t i c presuppositions, a l l we can r e a l l y say about T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n at t h i s point i s that through some sort of mumbo-jumbo t i e d up with the yolam, Telefolmin try to a l l a y t h e i r fears and persuade themselves that they are powerful i n the world and that men have some "secrets" which give them some leverage on the world. Such a view recommends i t s e l f on several d i f f e r e n t grounds. I t i s i n the f i r s t place consistent with popular and sch o l a r l y views of the nature and 480 purpose of r e l i g i o n . Further, i t accords with much that Telefolmin themselves say about the s i g n i f i c a n c e of the yolam and i t s r i t e s . I t f i t s , and i t would be possible, I think, to conclude at t h i s point, s a t i s f i e d i n our v e r i f i c a t i o n t h a t — o n c e a g a i n — r e l i g i o n underwrites the s o c i a l order and equips men with the i l l u s i o n of a meaningful world so that they can get on with the rest of t h e i r l i v e s without undue fuss. And i n the meantime, we manage to reassure ourselves of the correctness of our understanding of the world.... Peering into the "black box" becomes superfluous from t h i s perspective, and remains e n t i r e l y i n c i d e n t a l to the understanding already arrived at. A no-nonsense approach to the study of r e l i g i o n has l i t t l e to gain from an examination of the i n t r i c a t e confusions embedded i n the n i c e t i e s of r i t u a l or the d e t a i l s of myth. At best, t h i s would only serve to f l e s h out the conventional a f f i r m a t i o n of values, underwriting and r e i t e r a t i n g what we already know from other contexts. To the extent that t h i s i s not so, a c e r t a i n amount of conventional wisdom i s on the side of suspicion (cf. Ricoeur 1978: 213f) which recommends a prudent renunciation. To r e f e r to Douglas once again, Since we are c e n t r a l l y interested i n how meanings are constituted, we would do well to avoid mythical material. Apart from being notoriously p l i a n t to the i n t e r p r e t e r ' s whim, i t i s thought i n r e l a t i v e l y free play. Myth s i t s above and athwart the exigencies of s o c i a l l i f e . It i s capable of presenting one picture and then i t s opposite. We are on much more s o l i d ground by concentrating on b e l i e f s which are invoked e x p l i c i t l y to j u s t i f y behaviour (1975:289). Curiously, t h i s exhortation has the by-product of confirming the two most common variants of the Durkheimian thesis about the r e l a t i o n between r e l i g i o n and society: i n the weak form, r e l i g i o n i s the r e f l e c t i o n of s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s , the symbolic condensation of s o c i a l experience i n c o l l e c t i v e representations; i n the stronger form, r e l i g i o n i s the encoding of the s t r u c t u r a l p r i n c i p l e s which may themselves be manifested i n more contingent forms "on the ground". In either case, however, we are obliged to view r e l i g i o n as a r e f l e x of something e l s e — s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s , or t h e i r more 4 8 1 abstract underlying p r i n c i p l e s . To the extent that r e l i g i o n speaks to men's e x i s t e n t i a l conditions, i t i s i n order to f i t them to t h e i r job as members of society, to make them good c i t i z e n s , devout and untroubled i n the well-worn paths of rightness, confident that the authorized picture of the world i s the correct one. So the d r i f t seems to go, and the implication that goes with t h i s i s that i n r e l i g i o n we f i n d redundancy. This being the case, there i s patently no need to pursue matters further, and i f our net f a i l s to catch thought i n free play, or i f i t l e t s that which i s "above and athwart" f a l l through i t s mesh, we can rest comfortably i n the knowledge that t h i s residue cannot r e a l l y matter much anyway. Or, perhaps as Brongersma and Venema remarked about the Kofelmin iwool: there i s probably not a great deal to be seen (Brongersma and Venema 1962:89). On the whole, anthropology displays a shyness or reluctance—perhaps t i m i d i t y — a b o u t the " t h e o l o g i c a l " aspects of other people's religions.''" We are much more at home with the patient and often ingenious d e l i n e a t i o n of the xjays b e l i e f s and practices document our f a i t h that c u l t u r e i s coherence. Perhaps best trained in picking out the form of s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s from an embarrassing wealth of d e t a i l s , we have a keen eye for the s o c i a l system i m p l i c i t i n day-to-day l i f e . This i s our baseline, our measure of what i s " r e a l " i n a given culture. Allowing for a l l the s p e c i a l i z a t i o n s and the ;:. various frames of pertinence, i t i s s t i l l generally the case that t h i s i s where 2 the ethnographic account must begin and often enough where i t ends. Kant coined the term that l a t e r became the name for our d i s c i p l i n e . But h i s view, necess a r i l y without benefit of any knowledge of what anthropology was to be, placed what might be termed t h e o l o g i c a l concerns at the heart of anthropology. This c l e a r l y d i f f e r e n t understanding of what anthropology might be about i s explored by Buber (1973:148-252), who p o s i t s Kant's four questions 482 s u c c i n c t l y : what can I (man) know; what ought I (man) do; what may I (man) hope; what i s man ( i . e . , what am I)? Among other things, Buber argues that the answer to the l a s t question i s contingent on the previous three, and depends f i r s t upon the understanding that man i s a being who can know, ought to do, and may hope. My own f e e l i n g i s that these are questions which are not perip h e r a l to anthropology as we know i t , but i n fact underlie i t . And to return once more to T e l e f o l ethnography, we must delve into the "black box" of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i n order to.discover what i t has to say about such things. Over and above whatever T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n may have to t e l l us about the shape of s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s or how to grow taro, i t addresses i t s e l f to pveeisety the kinds of questions that Buber poses. And t h i s i s why I want to take the reader through what I understand to be the import of the "black box" and i t s content. So what goes on insi d e the yotaml What goes on in s i d e T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n ? Or, to put matters somewhat d i f f e r e n t l y , what does a l l of t h i s have to do with what goes on inside T e l e f o l men? Men say that they "bear" or "give b i r t h to" men i n the course of the i n i t i a t i o n s . They also say that things are revealed to the i n i t i a n d s and that they open t h e i r eyes during the lengthy course of such r i t e s . And yet we know already that a l l of t h i s i s embedded i n a praxis of secrecy, ploys of concealment, t r i c k s of deception. What kind of sense does t h i s make? The f i r s t of the questions that Buber raises concerns the issue of knowledge. What can men know? I t i s cl e a r that knowledge i s a dominant preoccupation of the men's c u l t , which i s to say that i t i s a concern of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n . In a basic sense to know i s to see i n T e l e f o l c u l t u r e '(utamamin), and t h i s i s to be awake, to be a l i v e (kafan-so or kafan-so sinik, 'awake/alive { s p i r i t ] ' ) . If we extend our understanding of t h i s a b i t , we can see that knowledge and understanding are l i f e . Now when we tackle the question of what men know i n the T e l e f o l context, a number of problems a r i s e . 483 To begin with, what men at various stages of t h e i r l i v e s think they know i s revised by revelations of hitherto secret information. They didn't know what they thought they knew. This process i s part of a d i a l e c t i c of concealment and exposition, set about with such rigour and thoroughgoing care that we must consider i t c e n t r a l to the project of i n i t i a t i o n , that i s , the production of men. Now here there i s a paradoxical i n t e r p l a y between knowledge and ignorance, c e r t a i n t y and doubt, c l a r i t y and obscurity. For each harmony there i s antiphony, for each consistency a dissonance. Why? Is i t sheer perversity, or one of many means whereby seniors may dominate or exploit j u n i o r s , a clever way of p u l l i n g the wool over the eyes of the powerless but p o t e n t i a l l y powerful? Is r e v e l a t i o n merely a pretext for the befuddlement of women and youths, an elaborate hazing meant to enhance the p o s i t i o n of old men bent on extracting advantage i n the face of t h e i r own r e l a t i v e uselessness? This l i n e of analysis i s tempting. The temptation, of course, resides i n the appeal to s i m p l i c i t y . I t i s the s i m p l i c i t y of a f a l s e understanding, however, and for that reason must be rejected. One aspect of the f a l s i t y i s the assumption we are led to make about the r e l a t i v e power of d i f f e r e n t categories of people i n T e l e f o l society, namely that prominence i n r i t u a l corresponds to i n f l u e n c e — i f not outright power—in a f f a i r s beyond the c u l t . According to what we should expect from t h i s , the older s e n i o r s — t h e ones i n the f u l l e s t possession of esoteric knowledge—ought to be the most powerful members of the society. There i s no evidence for any such power d i f f e r e n t i a l s or s t r a t i f i c a t i o n i n T e l e f o l society. It i s e g a l i t a r i a n i n the thoroughgoing sort of manner that i s a constant source of f r u s t r a t i o n f o r administrative o f f i c i a l s : i t i s only by government fiat that c o u n c i l l o r s are empowered to speak for others, and they s t i l l show a marked reluctance to do so. No man may decide f o r another i n Telefolmin, Older men are sometimes accorded what we might i n t e r p r e t as respect, some are a f f e c t i o n a t e l y regarded, some are 484 neglected and ignored. In t h i s they are no d i f f e r e n t from anyone else i n the society. Few old men keep pigs, some have modest stocks of bonang, other have more. None of t h i s i s related to t h e i r status within the yolam and i t s c u l t . In short, we cannot account f o r the d i f f e r e n t i a l s of knowledge between seniors and j u n i o r s i n the c u l t by suggesting' that t h i s serves as a sanction f o r power d i f f e r e n t i a l s elsewhere i n the s o c i a l system: d i f f e r e n t i a l s i n eso t e r i c knowledge simply cannot be understood as encoding p o l i t i c a l r e l a t i o n s , and such knowledge confers no tangible advantage outside the confines of the c u l t i t s e l f . Rather than t r y i n g to seek an "explanation" of T e l e f o l schemes of knowledge by searching for some set of s o c i a l , p o l i t i c a l , or economic " f a c t s " with which e s o t e r i c knowledge may be linked, l e t ' s return to the content of such knowledge and the way i t i s structured. Secrets are revealed during the course of i n i t i a t i o n s , and each i n i t i a t i o n has an appropriate range of revelations or expositions that accompanies i t . On v i r t u a l l y a l l of these occasions the i n i t i a n d s are i n a rather p e c u l i a r state, both p h y s i c a l l y and psychologically. They have been or w i l l be taxed heavily, being subject to a number of r e s t r i c t i o n s and hardships. When reminiscing about t h e i r i n i t i a t i o n s , men stress t h i s aspect, speaking—with some r e l i s h and pride, I might add—about the exhaustion, pain, t h i r s t , and fear that they endured. Many say, with only some hyperbole, that they feared they would die, others speak of l i g h t -headedness or giddiness as they feared t h e i r sinik would leave them. These are, of course, the personal experiences of what Turner has elsewhere analyzed as l i m i n a l i t y (Turner 1967). Now during a l l of t h i s time they have been t r i e d and tested i n another and, i n my estimation, more far-reaching way. Here I am r e f e r r i n g to the r e l a t i o n between expectation and event i n the course of the i n i t i a t i o n s . I f there i s any o v e r a l l guide as to what w i l l take place i n the i n i t i a t i o n s , i t i s that the i n i t i a n d s w i l l c o n s i s t e n t l y have t h e i r expectations v i o l a t e d . Here again men r e c a l l t h e i r confusion, uncertainty, and shock i n i n i t i a t i o n s , In the words of one man, "they turn things turn things, keep 485 turning them, they confuse us u n t i l our eyes r o l l (tiin buul, also means 'to f a i n t ' ) " . I n i t i a t i o n s are long on surprises and short on a n t i c i p a t i o n s confirmed. This i s the s e t t i n g i n which men are f i r s t exposed to the various b i t s of e s o t e r i c knowledge. Here the praxis of secrecy i s manipulated to permit a d i a l e c t i c a l engagement of r e v e l a t i o n and ignorance, and here the i n i t i a n d s are systematically disoriented at the very time they are being given what they are t o l d are the most meaningful—and t r u e — f o r m u l a t i o n s of t h e i r culture. At the r i s k of stretching the point, i t seems that what happens during the i n i t i a t i o n process i s that men resort to elaborate ploys to create nonsense—or perhaps, following Turner's lead on the notion of " a n t i - s t r u c t u r e " (1969), " a n t i - s e n s e " — i n order to make sense. It might be possible to understand t h i s merely as a rather t h e a t r i c a l d i d a c t i c device. There are c e r t a i n l y enough analogues a v a i l a b l e — e . g . , conversion processes i n messianic c u l t s , "brain-washing" techniques, and so o n — t o suggest that t h i s may be the case. The impact of hearing myths under such circumstances must doubtlessly be surrounded by an aura of what Kermode has c a l l e d "radiant obscurity" (1979:47). There i s , however, much more i n t h i s confrontation between expectation and r e v e l a t i o n . This becomes evident when the actual content of such expositions i s considered i n context. I said above that T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n , through the men's c u l t , dramatizes and elaborates the discrepancies and dissonances of T e l e f o l c u l t u r e . This, i t seems to me, i s one of the main burdens of the corpus of myths concerning Afek. At one l e v e l i t i s possible to see i n many of them charters of one sort or another, texts which serve to a f f i r m the shape of the world as given to the i n i t i a n d s i n the f i r s t place, Thus, i n response to questions a r i s i n g concerning the exclusion of women from the yolam, the episode i n which Afek and Umoim exchange places deals with the problem of s u g g e s t i n g — i n the remote and mythological p a s t — t h e alternate s o l u t i o n ( i . e . , Afek i n the 486 T e l e f o l i p ) and then demonstrates (or asserts) i t s inadequacy. Hence the a l t e r n a t i v e to the present arrangement—its i n v e r s e — i s no so l u t i o n at a l l , but a f a l s e a l t e r n a t i v e replaced by the current s i t u a t i o n . Similar l i n e s of analysis can be developed f o r other myths of the c y c l e . This, within the r e s t r i c t e d frame of component myths themselves, may suggest one way i n which sense i s created through "anti-sense". An a f f i r m a t i o n i s achieved by p o s i t i n g i t s inverse and then negating i t . There are, however, problems with ending the analysis at t h i s stage. One of these has already been explored i n my a n a l y s i s of the i n t e r r e l a t i o n of component texts i n Chapter 4. Here the d i f f i c u l t y i s that the reading of the texts themselves s h i f t s with each subsequent narrative a d d i t i o n to the cycle. One of the ways to understand t h i s i s to r e a l i z e that the texts are problematic for T e l e f o l men themselves. In the context of: secrecy t h i s means that the myths c a l l f o r i n t e r p r e t a t i o n on t h e i r part: that the myths contain meaning and s i g n i f i c a n c e i s taken for granted and has the whole weight of the T e l e f o l preoccupation with knowledge behind i t . But that t h i s s i g n i f i c a n c e i s not transparent i s also taken f o r granted: the kuuk i s v i s i b l e , but where i s the magam'7. For example, the t a l e about Umoim's return from the land of the dead may be understood as part of an elaborate r a t i o n a l e of the s i g n i f i c a n c e of bridewealth v a l u a b l e s — t h i s much seems c l e a r . But while o f f e r i n g t h i s answer to the question posed by m o r t a l i t y i t also r a i s e s the issue of the consequences of men's attempts to know and co n t r o l the world ( i . e . , Umoim's spying upon Afek). It i s too f a c i l e to assert that the myths simply provide the answers to questions concerning the dissonances of T e l e f o l l i f e . More c o r r e c t l y , the myths pose the questions, show them to be problematic, and bring them into awareness. The myths—and the esoteric knowledge embedded i n the i n i t i a t i o n context—do not dispose of questions, they propose them. Here we might gain some in s i g h t into t h i s by considering the words of one of Poole's informants 487 among the Bimin-Kuskusmin (n.d.). The Bimin-Kuskusmin are neighbours of the Telefolmin and p a r t i c i p a t e i n s i m i l a r t r a d i t i o n s of esoteric knowledge. The Bimin-Kuskusmin keep quartz c r y s t a l s under t h e i r yolam, and they r e f e r to these c r y s t a l s as the eyes of t h e i r ancestors, who can see and understand more than ordinary men: You put the c r y s t a l i n strong sunlight. The sunlight comes back to you. You cannot see ins i d e . Put your eye by the c r y s t a l . Look at the sun. The l i g h t i s ins i d e . But you see only the l i g h t . By the f i r e [ i n the c u l t house] the l i g h t i s d i f f e r e n t . You can see insi d e the c r y s t a l . Turn the c r y s t a l . I t i s d i f f e r e n t . Again. I t i s d i f f e r e n t . But there i s only one c r y s t a l . . . . I t i s l i k e many eyes... l i k e the great ancestors' eyes.... We cannot see [as] c l e a r l y . . . . We cannot see [as] quickly... the sacred things are i n s i d e . . . (Poole n.d.:30). Here Poole's informant i s , of course, t a l k i n g about c r y s t a l s . But i t seems to me that i t does no violence to the sense of h i s words to suggest that t h i s i s an i d e a l metaphor f o r myth among the Telefolmin. T e l e f o l myths, l i k e the c r y s t a l s of the Bimin-Kuskusmin, contain many things which men may apprehend i n a r e f r a c t o r y and incomplete manner i f they peer i n s i d e . What i s to be seen i f men peer inside? The question can be approached by considering the r e l a t i o n between early and l a t e r revelations dealing with the general theme of opposition and d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n . For example, we have noted how the general ordering and stru c t u r i n g of T e l e f o l culture i s predicated on separation of a n t i t h e t i c a l q u a l i t i e s , many of which may be summarized i n the d i v i s i o n between nurturing and k i l l i n g . This i s the main axis upon which the order of men's world turns. It i s on t h i s basis that hunting and gardening are kept apart from each other, and i t i s also for t h i s reason that women are to be segregated from bloodshed and the colour red. But i n myth i t i s revealed that the o r i g i n of red things-—ranging from red birds to v a r i e t i e s of pandanus f r u i t and other red crops, as well as the red tobaa with which the yolam i s f e n c e d — i s Afek's menstrual blood, i . e . , the menstrual blood of a woman. The basis of the d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n has now gone from the 488 segregation of inherently d i s t i n c t e n t i t i e s (women and blood) to the separation of things which are fundamentally linked. In other words, the opposition i s shown to rest on a d i s c o n t i n u i t y that i s rooted not i n the nature of things, but i n men's acts. The same point can be made more f o r c e f u l l y with reference to the katibam, the senior men's c u l t house. In the katibam, i t w i l l be r e c a l l e d , there i s only a sing l e hearth. It i s i n t h i s hearth that the bones of animals k i l l e d i n yolam r i t e s are sec r e t l y burned by the senior men, and i t i s t h i s a c t — n o t n e c e s s a r i l y what takes place i n the yolam—that i s deemed e f f i c a c i o u s i n r i t u a l . When men enter into the community of the katibam the d i v i s i o n between Arrow hearths and Taro hearths i s d i s s o l v e d — i t no longer e x i s t s and i s i n fac t exposed as a convention of the c u l t at the more jun i o r l e v e l s . Which i s to say, the more fundamental r e a l i t y underlying the apparent r e a l i t y of the c u l t centring on the yolam r e s t s upon overriding the opposition between Taro and Arrow. Further, the per i o d i c feasts held s e c r e t l y i n the katibam are the s t r u c t u r a l duplicates of the b i r t h feast held e x c l u s i v e l y by women when a c h i l d and mother emerge from the dungam, the menstrual and b i r t h hut; t h i s i s one of the explanations offered f o r the predominance of marsupials and women's foods i n general i n the katibam. This i s accompanied by an explanation that the katibam—the f i n a l and true yolam—is i n fac t the men's dungam, an alternate name for which i s am katib. Thus two of the fundamental d u a l i t i e s of the men's c u l t — t h e opposition between nurturing (gardening) and k i l l i n g (hunting) and between female and male—are transcended with the r e v e l a t i o n that t h i s r e f l e c t s human convention, not innate truth. What kind of sense does t h i s make? C l e a r l y i t overturns some of the basic premises of the men's c u l t , which i s to say that t h i s i s something that the c u l t i t s e l f does. This implication i s inescapable and c l e a r l y perceived by the seniors p r i v y to such knowledge. I t was brought dramatically home to me when I made a second f i e l d t r i p to Telefolmin i n 1979. I had come to 489 T e l e f o l i p at the request of the T e l e f o l i p people to record t h e i r corpus of sacred myths concerning Afek (Jorgensen 1 9 8 0 ) , Because of the s p e c i a l nature of the project there was a great deal of concern on the part of seniors that I c o l l e c t alt of t h e i r myths (an impossible task), and so p r i v i l e g e d access was accorded to me and to two men who worked as my ass i s t a n t s i n the project. This meant that, among other things, my as s i s t a n t s (Uunsep and Sandayok) were, l i k e myself, hearing some of the myths f or the f i r s t time. During most of t h i s stay I was pleased to learn that much of what I had learned during my f i r s t f i e l d t r i p was confirmed—many of the d e t a i l s of r i t e and myth c o l l e c t e d during 1974 and 1975 were echoed by what I was t o l d i n 1 9 7 9 . There was, of course, much new material as we l l , but i t a l l tended to confirm what I had already pieced together. One problem area, however, concerned the i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the very secret and sacred iman dung f i r s t f r u i t s r i t e . The problem b a s i c a l l y turned on why i t was that marsupials rather than pigs (e i t h e r domestic or wild) played such a prominent r o l e . In 1 9 7 9 I learned that secret marsupial hunts also accompanied v i r t u a l l y a l l r i t e s , but that t h i s was only known to seniors. And so the problem deepened. It became cl e a r on. the basis of material gathered i n T e l e f o l i p that a l l of t h i s was somehow t i e d to the 'katibam. Part of t h i s connection was explicated i n the myth accounting f o r the o r i g i n of the katibam, which also accounts for the o r i g i n s of the Taro Vine (iman sok) which i s l i k e an u m b i l i c a l cord connecting the T e l e f o l i p with the surrounding countryside. In t h i s myth marsupial hunting plays a key r o l e . In company with Uunsep, variants had been revealed by d i f f e r e n t seniors. This was a myth that Uunsep had not previously been allowed to hear, and he spent some time with me t r y i n g to unravel i t s s i g n i f i c a n c e . We were aided i n t h i s one afternoon by two seniors who had previously been h e l p f u l with t h i s . p a r t i c u l a r narrative, and c e r t a i n problematic d e t a i l s (e.g., the transformation of Umoim's um b i l i c a l cord into a penis) were cleared up, I began to ask why there was only a s i n g l e hearth i n the katibam 490 and here men r e i t e r a t e d that there were simply no Taro and Arrow Sides i n the house. Some time l a t e r i n the day I asked about something that had bothered me e a r l i e r , namely, why I had been unable to locate any but the most s u p e r f i c i a l accounts for the o r i g i n of the dungam. At t h i s point, Weesimnok (one of the seniors) broke into a g r i n and t o l d me that I had already heard the story of the o r i g i n s of the dungam: i t was the same story they had discussed with us e a r l i e r i n the d a y — t h e o r i g i n s of the katibam. My f i r s t r eaction was skepticism—Uunsep's f i r s t r e a c t i o n was stronger, approaching shocked d i s b e l i e f . And that was when Weesimnok and Atenok good naturedly, amid chuckles, explained i n d e t a i l that the dungam and the katibam were the same. This i s very amem, and should not be t o l d to men u n t i l they have been inmates i n the katibam for some time. Uunsep was f i r m l y cautioned not to t e l l others about t h i s . As i t was, the l i k e l i h o o d of t h i s happening was s l i m — Uunsep spent the next several days q u i e t l y frowning about the v i l l a g e . I t ' s now time to return to some of our o r i g i n a l questions. This example—a rather small but t e l l i n g o n e — g i v e s some i n d i c a t i o n of how i t i s that T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n h i g h l i g h t s dissonance and discrepancy rather than evading them. To put the matter more strongly, i t emphasizes "seeing" and "knowing" by systematically confronting men with t h e i r ignorance. The alternate constructions of r e a l i t y with which they are presented are transformed by those which follow. I have already spoken of t h i s i n the previous section, but I now want to develop the implications further. In answer to Buber's question of what men can know, T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n o f f e r s a sophisticated and wise reply: men cannot be c e r t a i n of what they know except for the c e r t a i n t y that t h e i r knowledge w i l l always be incomplete and perhaps mistaken. Juniors i n the c u l t expect that i t w i l l provide them with the knowledge to understand and manipulate the world. The view of the seniors i s d i f f e r e n t . When questioned on the e f f i c a c y of t h e i r r i t u a l they epxress doubts about how or whether such r i t u a l a c t u a l l y works; and can point out instances i n which projects succeeded i n the absence of r i t e s and f a i l e d when r i t e s were performed. A l l of the senior men with whom I spoke were acutely aware that they themselves did not possess a l l of the sacred knowledge that might be presumed to reveal everything. A l l they know i s what they were to l d and what they see with t h e i r own eyes; they add that men's knowledge dwindles with the passage of each generation and that, i n any event, "Afek closed men's eyes" so that they could not see (know) everything. What they do know i s that men must be ready for whatever happens and be prepared to see whatever i s revealed to them. The aim of T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n i s less to produce a systematic and a i r - t i g h t view of the world than i t i s to produce men who are capable of dealing with the world. Rather than produce the i l l u s i o n of a world i n which men's mastery i s assured, i n which ideology provides a comprehensive guide to a l l that can and w i l l happen, T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n takes the opposite tack; instead of emphasizing consistency and coherence at the expense of co n t r a d i c t i o n or ambiguity, T e l e f o l religion.does the reverse. When a l l i s said and done, men are reminded that behind and beneath everything i s Magalim, and that, i n the end, r e a l i t y must be confronted and not evaded. If we ask what men may hope, T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n t e l l s them that ul t i m a t e l y everything w i l l come to an end, that the world o f f e r s l i t t l e hope. Men have Afek's legacy, and t h i s they may put to work i n t h e i r service. They have the yolam and the usong, and they can t r y to protect what they have from lo s s . But the Meaningless One, the Unknowable One—Magalim—is the a n t i t h e s i s of Afek and of man's sovereignty i n the world, and Magalim i s the only one who w i l l endure and outl a s t t h e i r world. They w i l l learn that he may sometimes be th e i r f r i e n d , and w i l l be a l e r t f o r him. They w i l l know him as the world stripped of the i l l u s i o n of transparency, the world without the order that 492 men impose, the basis.of everything and the context i n which men w i l l always move and work. What should men do? T e l e f o l r e l i g i o n f i r s t of a l l i n v i t e s them to grasp the t r u t h of t h e i r being i n a world that eludes precept and expectation. In the Second World War Femsep was asked to board a m i l i t a r y a i r c r a f t on the spur of the moment; he handed his bow and arrows to a f r i e n d and went aboard, landed i n Hollandia during an a i r r a i d , returned home with t a l e s to t e l l . When the A u s t r a l i a n p a t r o l o f f i c e r s a r r i v e d , Telefolmin welcomed them; when they abused t h e i r authority, Telefolmin k i l l e d them. At night, i n the darkness, i n the secret chamber under the T e l e f o l i p , men go down to face Afek; a possum darts f o r t h from her bones, an omen perhaps, and men catch t h e i r breaths u n t i l Waakumnok seizes the chance, takes up her jawbone, prancing and waving i t i n men's faces proclaiming with glee, "here she i s — a bone!". Walking i n the bush, Dakasim hears a woman's moans, she i s bleeding, i t i s a premature b i r t h ; he c a r r i e s her on h i s shoulders, covered i n womb-blood, to the h o s p i t a l where she i s saved. These are the sorts of men Telefolmin . produce i n t h e i r i n i t i a t i o n s , t h i s i s what t h e i r r e l i g i o n i n v i t e s them to do. Men face entropy and the ascendancy of Magalim. There are no long-term gains, nothing remains, no guarantees, save that i n the end a l l w i l l become nothing. With t h i s awareness men do what men everywhere must do—make t h e i r l i v i n g , r a i s e t h e i r f a m i l i e s . But t h i s i s not the awareness of despair, the gloom of desolation; rather, i t i s the means by which l i f e acquires i t s own heroism. It i s because of t h i s awareness that men bring a keenness and v i t a l i t y to the business of l i v i n g . Given what t h e i r r e l i g i o n t e l l s them, to hunt and to make gardens i s to enter Magalim's domain, to leave behind the sanctuary of the v i l l a g e . In any other s e t t i n g , Telefolmin would seem to be workaholics; the work i s never-ending, and men go out of t h e i r way to work hard. To do so i s to meet Magalim squarely on h i s own ground, each successful garden i s more than food for the b e l l y — i t i s a confirmation of 493 being, -an unequal challenge accepted and (for now) won, If the ultimate outcome i s l o s s , men may—with e f f o r t and strength——win many v i c t o r i e s along the way. Perhaps t h i s i s why, a f t e r f e l l i n g the trees for a new garden, men break into improvised song, dancing i n the forest and t w i r l i n g t h e i r axes over th e i r heads: t h e i r audience i s the world and themselves, Magalim and a man with an axe. Die Bejahung ist erst die Vevneinung einev Vevneinung (Mauthner i n Burke 1966:419). 494 APPENDIX I: GLOSSARY Note: While I have made use of the Healey's excellent T e l e f o l dictionary (1977), i n some cases I depart from t h e i r t r a n s c r i p t i o n s and glosses. T e l e f o l orthography s t i l l seems somewhat unsettled (op. c i t . , p. x v i ) , and such discrepancies are to be understood i n terms of differences i n aims as well as differences i n judgment. Though T e l e f o l i s a tonal language, I have made no attempt to indic a t e t h i s i n my orthography since, with one exception (yol/ l i z a r d arrow/; yolI salt I), tone i s not co n t r a s t i v e l y s i g n i f i c a n t i n the present corpus. A aal: grass or weed aaltem: grassy place, place f u l l of weeds weng aal'- i n s u l t i n g speech or t a l k aalab- father (3rd pers.) aalabal'- 'fathers' i n i n i t i a t i o n s (beat novices) kwet aalab'- sugar cane forbidden to women and ch i l d r e n suum aaldb'- banana v a r i e t y forbidden to women and chi l d r e n waan aalab'- yam v a r i e t y forbidden to women and ch i l d r e n aamin'- to k i l l or s t r i k e or shoot magalo aamin: to k i l l s e c r e t l y , i . e . , with biit sorcery aanang'- the earth or ground ( i n a general sense) Aanang Kayaak'- 'earth person' or 'earth owner' (one of Magalim's names) aanangen: female bush s p i r i t , believed to s t e a l c h i l d r e n and look a f t e r wild pigs aanang man: an unruly or wild c h i l d aaning: father's younger brother (1st and 3rd pers.) aaningal- father's brothers; senior p a t r i l a t e r a l male r e l a t i v e s aaningok: large eels (eaten only by i n i t i a t e d men) aatum: father (1st pers.) abeen: mother (1st pers.) 495 abiim: a v a r i e t y of large pigeon (forbidden to women and youths) abiin: f l o o r ; a l l y ( i . e . , one with whom one s i t s ) kong abiin: outermost section of f l o o r , reserved f or domestic pigs digiim: women and children's f l o o r miliil: men's f l o o r , occupying centre of house abiip: v i l l a g e ; c l e a r i n g ; outside (of house), i . e . , i n pub l i c abiip kasel: v i l l a g e people, fellow v i l l a g e r s abiip kayaak: fellow v i l l a g e r , native of a v i l l a g e abiip mat: c e n t r a l plaza of a v i l l a g e ( l i t e r a l l y , ' v i l l a g e stomach') abiip miton: main or p r i n c i p a l v i l l a g e , e.g., T e l e f o l i p ('capital') abiip tenum: fellow v i l l a g e r unangabiip: women's v i l l a g e , i . e . , the portion of a v i l l a g e excluding yolabiip yolabiip: the fenced area surrounding the yolam, only i n i t i a t e s may enter abin: u m b i l i c a l cord afaalik: b i g or old (masc); male ancestor; great-grandfather; term of address for men amem or usong; important; r e s p e c t f u l term f o r old man (not, however, appreciated because of connotations of great age!) afek: big or huge, old or ancient (fem.); ancestress; great-grandmother; important or numerous; r e s p e c t f u l term f o r old woman Afek: The Ancestress of a l l Telefolmin and other Mountain Ok peoples Afek sang: secret myths about Afek afeen: true or correct; r e a l ; expression of agreement (from kekfeen, to look or witness; means roughly ' i t i s seen') tenum afeen: a r e a l man; a Telefolmin agalal: a v a r i e t y of nuk ( a c t u a l l y a rat) forbidden to men agam: a brother-and-sister , (before marriage); a husband-and-wife; couple aget: thought, idea aget fukunin: to think or consider am: house; day am dekota: ceremonial reb u i l d i n g of the T e l e f o l i p (yolam) am katib (am katip): see dungam ( l i t e r a l l y , 'small house') am kun: housepost ( l i t e r a l l y , 'house bone' or 'house strength') am mafak: bad house; a bad (rainy) day am tambal: good house; a good (sunny day) am utuu: s p l i t w all timbers amitem: doorway ( l i t e r a l l y , 'house hole') amitung: carved doorboard amogeen: see yolam ( l i t e r a l l y , 'house mother'); e s p e c i a l l y the T e l e f o l i p dungam: women's menstrual and b i r t h hut, forbidden to men dungamtem: menstruation; idiom f or f i l t h elam: a large f o r t r e s s house, formerly made i n gardens near enemy land fofolam: a small shelter to shade young seedlings; bush enclosure i n i n i t i a t i o n s kabeelam: youths or jun i o r i n i t i a t e s ' house ( l i t e r a l l y , ' h o r n b i l l house') katibam: senior i n i t i a t e s ' c u l t house ( l i t e r a l l y , 'small house') man am: womb ( l i t e r a l l y , ' c h i l d house') 496 miilam: shelter b u i l t f o r novices i n dagasal ban sebam: a bush house or garden house yolam: men's s p i r i t house, forbidden to n o n - i n i t i a t e s amem (abem): sacred, .forbidden,..apart; tabu; secret abemtem: a sacred or dangerous place where Magalim i s l i k e l y to be; often caves or stream sources; vagina (idiom) at amem: a sacred f i r e , as i n i n i t i a t i o n s or other r i t e s kong amem: a pig to be s a c r i f i c e d i n a r i t e tenum amem (tenum abem): an expert i n r i t u a l matters tenum amem kasel (tenum abem kasel): the men who.direct r i t u a l s unankalin amem: forbidden or tabu food weng amem: sacred or secret speech; the es o t e r i c l o r e of the men's c u l t , p a r t i c u l a r l y Afek sang; a secret s p e l l amwaasi: feuding enemies, enemies who are Telefolmin ( l i t e r a l l y , 'house , enemies') amwaasi iiban: a rot or sickness (pollution) Incurred as the r e s u l t of k i l l i n g fellow Telefolmin aseng: a song (1 at + weng, ' f i r e talk') asit: green (both colour and st a t e ) ; raw, moisture-laden; foreign, strange, a l i e n ; undeveloped; antagonistic or opposed; distant asittem: f a r away, a foreign place; home of the Europeans tenum asit: a stranger or"foreigner; an odd man ('half-baked') asop: large ' p i t p i t ' , a garden vegetable at: tree; wood; f i r e at amem: a sacred f i r e , as i n i n i t i a t i o n s and other r i t e s at bong: an a c a c i a - l i k e tree at deli (at dli)'• a hoop pine (Araucaria sp.), prominent near v i l l a g e s i t e s at falam: ?Ficus sp. at falom: tree resembling large rubber tree (Ficus sp.) at filim: a tree at igim: a tree with large blue f r u i t s favoured by w i l d pigs at igin: tree used to make axe handles, shields, pandanus dishes at kom: a war s h i e l d (carved and painted) at kulu: a r o t t i n g log (idiom for corpse) at mafak: firewood ( l i t e r a l l y , 'bad wood') at miyaam: an oak (Castanopsis sp.), f r u i t eaten by w i l d pigs at telap (tlap): mountain beech (Nothofagus sp.), used i n housebuilding at telom: black palm v a r i e t y , used for bows (not found i n Telefolmin) at tenim: ~ black palm v a r i e t y , used for bows (not found i n Telefolmin) at tetip: a v a r i e t y of Casuarina, planted as garden fallow cover at ulap: a tree (Ficus sp.), indicates good taro s o i l at yet: wild f i g tree atem: a v a r i e t y of edible frog atiim: l i z a r d (generic) atok: part; h a l f . atok atok keemin: to do things half-heartedly isak atok: close b i l a t e r a l k i n ; cognatic kindred ( l i t e r a l l y , 'blood part') 497 atool: a (secular) feast and dance, held at night; now, a year atul: heat/hot; burning, st i n g i n g atul-so: burning; stinging; angry atul tebemin: to become angry tenum atul: a man given to anger; a 'tough customer' weng atul: angry t a l k or 'stinging speech'; reprimand or i n s u l t ayaap: the ghost of an enemy k i l l e d i n b a t t l e em ayaap: a v a r i e t y of f r u i t ( o i l ) pandanus, forbidden to women and youths B baaben: elder s i s t e r or father's s i s t e r (1st pers.) baap: elder brother (1st pers.) bagan: ground,, t e r r i t o r y ; red ochre (secret names, bagan isak, tobaal = menstrual blood) Bagan Kayaak: 'master of the t e r r i t o r y ' (one of Magalim's names) iman bagan: gardening t e r r i t o r y nuk bagan: hunting grounds waasi bagan: enemy t e r r i t o r y bagel: ghost (who died a natural death) Bagelam: the land of the dead, the underworld bagelilep: underground track to Bagelam, guarded by B i s i i l k i ban: a r i t e , e s p e c i a l l y i n i t i a t i o n ( d e t a i l s secret) ban dupkamin: to 'plant' or 'give b i r t h ' to a youth i n i n i t i a t i o n ( i . e . beat him) ban kasel: p a r t i c i p a n t s i n a ban (may not eat with non-participants) biit ban: i n i t i a t i o n into biit sorcery (only others practice) bogol ban: 'eagle r i t e ' ; was l a s t of sequence, for hunting and warfare dagasal ban: f i r s t i n i t i a t i o n , boys receive dagasal (netbags with feathers) ifet ban: see tlalalep ban iman ban: 'taro r i t e ' ; includes ot and tap bans, f i f t h phase (at T e l e f o l i p ) keemin ban: discontinued; included a l l phases through bogol ban i n long r i t e kong ban: 'domestic p i g r i t e ' ; not i n i t i a t i o n ; women may p a r t i c i p a t e mafuum ban: fourth i n i t i a t i o n , youths receive sel headdress (at T e l e f o l i p ) om ban: 'sago r i t e ' ; second i n i t i a t i o n ot ban: 'drum r i t e ' ; f i r s t part of iman ban saaman ban: 'wild p i g r i t e ' ; see un baal tap ban: second phase of iman ban; i n i t i a t e considered 'adult' tiim ban: 'dew washing r i t e ' , part of the dagasal ban sequence tlalalep ban: t h i r d i n i t i a t i o n tetil: curing r i t e for epidemic i l l n e s s un baal: 'arrow r i t e ' ; s i x t h i n i t i a t i o n (now discontinued) bil: a small and r e l a t i v e l y informal feast (often pandanus) dagasal bil: a pandanus feast to compensate an i n i t i a t e ' s r i t u a l 'mother' mafuum bil: a pandanus feast to compensate an i n i t i a t e ' s r i t u a l 'mother' 498 biil: a wild cane used f o r arrow shafts biilok: a rat forbidden to men as food biit: l e t h a l assault sorcery; a p r a c t i t i o n e r of such sorcery biit ban: a secret r i t e i n which men learn how to do biit biit son: materials (usually exogenous) f o r performing biit;, *biit seeds' binim: nothing; not at a l l ; f i n i s h e d , empty; none; destroyed biniman: the process of becoming nothing, d i s s i p a t i n g ; degenerating; to (be) exhaust; to f i n i s h or be f i n i s h e d ; run out; ruin, breakdown; the processes of entropy iman binim: without taro; hungry or starving kalel binim: without wife; s i n g l e or abandoned kong binim: without pigs (to be poor) kim binim: without bones or strength; weak; lazy man binim: c h i l d l e s s mufekfek binim: without 'things'; to be poor tiin binim: without eyes; to be b l i n d ; to be stupid or f o o l i s h togol binim: without f a t ; to be skinny tolong binim: without ears; to be deaf; to be f o o l i s h or stubborn; ignorant weng binim: without words; to be speechless, e s p e c i a l l y from shame win binim: without name, no reputation, forgotten bisop'- f u t i l e ; worthless; p o i n t l e s s bisop keemin: to do things c a r e l e s s l y , haphazardly (and i n v i t e f a i l u r e ) tenum bisop: a worthless man; a lazy man; a man of no account; sometimes— an "ordinary Joe" bisan: a b i r d ( ? W i l l i e wagtail) bisel: big; mature, an adult biseng: King B i r d of Paradise; forbidden to women bisiil: greedy, gluttonous; speedy Bisiilki: The Greedy One, a huge dog guarding the entrance to Bagelam, one of Magalim's names biyal: a v a r i e t y of black palm biyal-sinam: a spatulate or sword-like f i g h t i n g club made from black palm blaana-blaana keemin: to give and take f r e e l y without accounting blaana-blaana tenum: one's best f r i e n d bogol: harpy eagle bogol ban: (formerly) the f i n a l i n i t i a t i o n r i t e bogung: white limestone clay, used as paint (people, pigs, carvings) bonang: small cowries, valuables used i n bridewealth bubuk: a r a t , forbidden to men bubul: heart; thought; emotion bubul mafak: 'bad heart'; sadness; anger; one given to anger 499 bet bubul: 'soft heart'; a kind, generous, gentle person Hang bubul: 'garden heart'; that portion of a garden where tobaa i s r i t u a l l y planted nimi bubul: my heart; my thought or f e e l i n g s ; a f f e c t i o n a t e term (male/ female) nimi. bubultem: i n my heart; "according to what I think..." D daam: fence tobaadaam: fence of red cordyline (Pidgin: tanket) enclosing yolam dabool: tree kangaroo, only i n i t i a t e s may eat dagaan: intermediate a l t i t u d e zone of c u l t i v a t i o n (c. 4500-6000 feet a.s.l.) dagasal: Netbag l i n e d with h o r n b i l l feathers, given to boys i n f i r s t i n i t i a t i o n dagasal ban: the f i r s t i n i t i a t i o n dam: f l e s h ; truth, or agreement (because t a n g i b l e — b u t i s ephemeral) digii: men's cane fire-making apparatus digiim: women's and children's f l o o r area of a house diip: low-lying a l t i t u d e zone of c u l t i v a t i o n (c. 3500-4500 feet a.s.l.) ditip: a v a r i e t y of marsupial forbidden to women doo fukunin: to r e c a l l , remember, or r e f l e c t back weng doo: metaphorical (.'reminding') speech; s k i t s performed i n i n i t i a t i o n s dubung: r u l e forbidding people to eat pigs they have fed, or have been fed by 'children'; analogous to incest tabu dufaal: a red parrot forbidden to women; feathers used as headdress dulfen: a marsupial forbidden to both men and women dumiin: domesticated nut pandanus (high a l t i t u d e crop) dungam: women's menstrual and b i r t h hut dungamtem: menstruation; idiom for f i l t h dunkiil: wild dog, forbidden to a l l Telefolmin as food dup: f r i e n d (may or not not be a r e l a t i v e ) (3rd..pers.) 500 E elam: large f o r t r e s s house, formerly made i n gardens near enemy land em: domestic f r u i t ( o i l ) pandanus em ayaap: 'enemy pandanus' forbidden to women and youths em kool: a v a r i e t y of domestic o i l pandanus em naam: a yellow v a r i e t y of pandanus permitted only to i n i t i a t e s em muum: pandanus seeds, metaphorically r e f e r r e d to as 'bones' et: penis et kem: (male) nudity ('penis exposed') et kun: erection ('penis bone/strength') et ok: semen ('penis water') F fiip: taro s t a l k s f o r planting fitom: shame or embarrassment fitom tebemin: to become ashamed fofolam: shelter for young seedlings; brush enclosure i n bush f o r i n i t i a t i o n s fubi: stone adze fufalim: a cave-nesting swift or swallow forbidden to women fukunin: i to think (sort of—seems to r e f e r to some kind of cognitive process) aget fukunin: to think or consider (?'to think thoughts') doo fukunin: to r e c a l l or remember fuup: men's songs sung at dances or occasionally while walking through bush I ifalop: birth-mates or initation-mates (3rd pers.) ifet: switches for thrashing ifet ban: a phase.of the tlalalep ban igil: echidna, forbidden to a l l Telefolmin to eat (secret name: nukogeen) igin: a tree or wood used for axe handles, shields, and pandanus dishes igit: female (of animal species not of human); lower and larger portion of sel headdress Hn: l i v e r iin ok: mucus; a cold ( l i t e r a l l y , ' l i v e r water') iip-tenum: an intermediary; a man with r e l a t i v e s or friends i n two or more v i l l a g e s ( l i t e r a l l y , 'middle man') 501 ilaam: small marsupial mouse, men may not eat 1ilami san ko': ' i t ' s up to him', ' i t ' s h i s choice', ' i t ' s h i s r e s p o n s i b i l i t y ' ( l i t e r a l l y , ' i t ' s h i s own seed') Hang: garden; term f o r i n i t i a n d s ilangok: garden i n which T e l e f o l i p iman ban i s performed ('garden mother') Hang bubul: p a r t of garden where tobaa i s r i t u a l l y p l a n t e d ; t h i s i s fenced ( l i t e r a l l y , 'garden heart') Hep: t r a c k or path; f i g u r a t e l y , custom or manner ilet: exposure p l a t f o r m upon which corpses were placed Hop: maggots Hum: heavy or heaviness; q u a l i t y necessary f o r taro p l a n t i n g Hub (Hup): a small v a r i e t y of ' p i t p i t ' , a garden vegetable imak: male; husband; upper and smaller p o r t i o n of sel headdress imaan: bladder or u r i n e imaan ok: u r i n e ('bladder water') iman: taro ( v i r t u a l l y synonymous w i t h 'food' and 'meal') iman at: sacred taro f i r e i n r i t u a l s iman ban: f i f t h i n i t i a t i o n , aimed at promoting taro p r o s p e r i t y iman binim: without t a r o , i . e . , hungry or s t a r v i n g iman dumeen: one of the two o r i g i n a l taro v a r i e t i e s iman dung: h i g h l y secret f i r s t f r u i t s r i t e iman Hang: taro garden iman Ho: Taro Side; one h a l f of the dual d i v i s i o n of the men's c u l t iman miit: Taro Base or Taro Kind; l i f e - p r o m o t i n g h a l f of c u l t iman miit kayaak: a man of the Taro Side; an expert i n taro r i t u a l iman ninii: grated t a r o , u s u a l l y eaten w i t h o i l pandanus iman sok: the Taro Vine or Taro Rope; a white-flowered v i n e growing from beneath the T e l e f o l i p and connecting i t to surrounding countryside iman tep: hunger or hungry iman tobaal: one of the two o r i g i n a l taro v a r i e t i e s iman tuul: the Taro Hearth i n the yolam, o r i e n t e d towards p r i n c i p a l garden areas inap: snake (generic) inap utan: rock- or cave-dwelling python; men may not eat inggat: a r a t forbidden to men as food isak: blood; a r e d d i s h r o t a f f e c t i n g taro and thought to r e s u l t from b r i n g i n g blood i n t o contact w i t h a garden isak atok: c l o s e cognatic r e l a t i v e s ('blood part') isaklut: the colour red isak-so: 'with blood', bloody; sometimes used to r e f e r to young men 502 K kaal: skin or husk; tree bark kaangat: broad-bladed bamboo arrow for warfare and p i g hunting ( ' k i l l i n g wood') kabel: mother's s i s t e r ' s c h i l d ; wife's s i s t e r ' s husband (1st pers.) kabeel: h o r n b i l l ; metaphor for youths/initiands; women may not eat kabeelam: j u n i o r i n i t i a t e s ' house ('hornbill house') kabo: you (masc.) kabutem: the area between the f l o o r of a house and the ground kafan-so: awake kafan-so sinik: a l i v e ('awake s p i r i t ' ) kalbio: a sti n g i n g n e t t l e used to thrash i n i t i a n d s ( l i t e r a l l y , "here I am!") kamaa: new or recent; not yet r i p e kameen: penis gourd kasak: a green domestic cordyline v a r i e t y ; healthy or handsome katib (katip): small; young; few; a marsupial katibam: senior i n i t i a t e s ' c u l t house am katib: see dungam kayaak (pi. kasel): person; inhabitant; holder of ri g h t s ('owner') tenum kayaak: father's brother's c h i l d (man speaking) unang kayaak: father's brother's c h i l d (woman speaking) kayaal: a bandicoot forbidden to those of reproductive age kayaam: domestic dog, forbidden to a l l Telefolmin as food kayop: the moon (conceived as a man) kayop tiinemin: to hunt for marsupials ( l i t e r a l l y , 'walk by the moon') kayop tonamin: to menstruate ( l i t e r a l l y , 'to s i t by the moon') kekfeen: look or witness; to face (of. afeen) kem: open, v i s i b l e , exposed et kem: (male) nudity ('penis exposed') kun kem: emaciated, skinny ('bones exposed') nok kem: (female) nudity ('vagina exposed') weng kem: non-secret moral i n s t r u c t i o n given to i n i t i a n d s "('open talk') kong: domestic p i g kong ban: r i t e f o r increase of pig herd, women may p a r t i c i p a t e kongbbltiil: mound behind the T e l e f o l i p to which pigs are t i e d before s a c r i f i c e kong togol: pig f a t (used as medium for face p a i n t — s e c r e t ) 503 kugup: custom, way of doing things kugup waafunamin: to observe and preserve ('hold onto') customs ilami kugup: his own way of doing things kumak: domestic ginger v a r i e t y kumsop: smaller mountain cassowary (females may not eat) kun: bone; strength; hardness; endurance; severity kun binim: weak; lazy ('no bones') kun kem: emaciated ('bones exposed') kun-so: strong; strong-willed or stubborn; hard or tough i n dealings with others am kun: housepost ('house bone') tenum kun: payment made to mourners at a man's death ('man bone') unang kun: payment made to mourners at a woman's death; bridewealth ('woman bone') kundunang: c a n n i b a l i s t i c amazons who inhabit the fringes of the T e l e f o l world, are married to wild dogs kutal: a marsupial forbidden to men and women kutinim: marsupial carnivore, only eaten by old men kuyaam: large t e r r e s t r i a l cave- and rock-dwelling marsupial (only seniors eat) kuyaamtem: the nest of a kuyaam underground; vagina (idiom) kuuk: the top or growing t i p of a plant; exoteric portions of narrative kwet: sugar cane kwet afaayim: red sugar cane v a r i e t y ( r e s t r i c t e d ) kwet tenep: red sugar cane v a r i e t y ( r e s t r i c t e d ) kwet ugit: green sugar cane v a r i e t y ( r e s t r i c t e d ) kwet sangaatum: red sugar cane v a r i e t y ( r e s t r i c t e d ) kwet malandon: red s t r i p e d sugar cane varietj' ( r e s t r i c t e d ) M maagop: one; of the same kind isak maagop: close r e l a t i v e s ('one blood') sang maagop: the same story; people who have the same story tenum miit maagop: one tenum miit, members of the same cognatic descent category maatup: c r o c o d i l e mafak: bad; e v i l ; sick; rotten; ugly; i n e f f e c t u a l at mafak: firewood sang mafak: a bad or d i s t a s t e f u l t a l e , a nasty or d i r t y story tenum mafak: an ugly man; a c r i p p l e ; an old man; a man given to l y i n g or laziness or anger weng mafak: i n s u l t i n g or h u r t f u l t a l k ; gossip 504 mafuum: headdress of fourth i n i t i a t e s (also c a l l e d , sel) mafuum. ban mafuum,bil mafuum' det fourth i n i t i a t i o n , held at T e l e f o l i p pandanus. feast'.to compensate '.mothers' of mafuum ban songs of the mafuum ban magalo: hidden, i n v i s i b l e , unseen, unknown; meaningless magalo aamin: to k i l l by biit sorcery ('hidden k i l l i n g ' ) magalo keemin: to do things i n v i s i b l y ; euphemism for death, to become i n v i s i b l e magalo sang: a rumour of uncertain truth muu: "I don't know; how should I know?" Magalim: The Unknown One, the Meaningless One magam: o r i g i n ; cause; basis; root; meaning; es o t e r i c portion of a narrative; explanation tenum magam: genealogy/ weng magam: meaning (of a word) magayim: the 'fathers' (aalabal) or 'enemies' (waasi) who beat and threaten youths i n i n i t i a t i o n s mamiin: heat; e f f i c a c y mamiin-so; hot; e f f i c a c i o u s man: c h i l d ; s i b l i n g ' s c h i l d (man speaking); s i s t e r ' s c h i l d (woman speaking) mangkan: a rat, forbidden to men as food men: netbag men amem: sacred netbag, containing c u l t r e l i c s (bones of usong) iman men: a men amem for taro r i t e s kong men: a men amem f o r r a i s i n g domestic pigs un men: a men amem f o r hunting and/or warfare migik: oblique, 'to the side'; deceptive migik bagamin: to speak deceptively, to conceal the truth tenum migik: an odd man weng migik: deceptive talk; l i e s miil: beans miilam: s h e l t e r b u i l t f o r novices i n dagasal ban miit: s t a l k ; base; source; v a r i e t y or kind; e f f i c a c y iman miit: Taro Base, one hal f of the men's c u l t ; e s o t e r i c knowledge concerning taro suum miit: a banana st a l k , used as planting material; a type of banana tenum miit: named cognatic descent category; o r i g i n t a l e un miit: Arrow Base, one h a l f of the men's c u l t ; e s o t e r i c knowledge concerning hunting and warfare miliil: the men's f l o o r i n the centre of a house, between.the two hearths misim: generous Tenum Misim: the Generous One; one of Magalim's names momoyok: those who die v i o l e n t l y and assume the form of f l y i n g foxes a f t e r death and return to r a i d erstwhile v i l l a g e r s ' gardens 505 mook: a kind of stone adze moom: mother's brother (1st pers.) ogot: mother's brother (3rd pers.) ogosal: mother's brothers (3rd pers.) mufekfek: possessions ('things') N naam: cane cuirass neeng: younger s i s t e r nek: cross cousin (1st pers.) nelii: a yam, only i n i t i a t e s may eat nelenim: a hawk, forbidden to women niing: younger brother ninak-so: d i r t y nok: vagina nok isak: menstrual blood ('vagina blood'); secret name i s tobaat nok kem: nudity (feminine) nok kul: vaginal secretions (compare abang kul, pus from a wound) abemtem: metaphor for vagina ('forbidden place/hole') kuyaamtem: metaphor for vagina Ckuyaam's hole') ooltem: metaphor for vagina ('anus') nuk: marsupials and small hairy animals (generic) nuk abem: tabu or sacred nuk (used i n r i t e s ) nuk bagan: hunting grounds nukamin: s p i r i t men who look a f t e r marsupials nuk Hep: trees f e l l e d by hunters across streams to act as paths for marsupials nukunang: s p i r i t women who look a f t e r marsupials unang nuk: marsupials reserved for women's consumption nukok: echidna; 'marsupial mother', forbidden to a l l Telefolmin to eat nukogeen: d i t t o 0 oga: a pigeon, forbidden to women as food ogeen: mother (3rd pers.) amogeen: 'mother house'; a yolam, e s p e c i a l l y the T e l e f o l i p ogeenal: ' mothers' i n i n i t i a t i o n s (care for novices) oget: water gourd 506 ok: water okgeyam: an amphibious marsupial, forbidden to men to eat om: sago (not found i n Telefolmin proper) om ban: 'sago r i t e ' , the second i n i t i a t i o n ool: i n t e s t i n e s ; feces; f i l t h oolisak: anger ('intestine blood') ooltem: anus ('feces hole') ot: drum ot ban: 'drum r i t e ' , the f i r s t part of the iman ban S saa- s p i r i t of one k i l l e d i n warfare saaman: wild pig (only i n i t i a t e s may eat) saaman ban: 'wild pig r i t e ' ; see un baal saaman man: 'wild p i g l e t ' ; an unruly c h i l d saamin: see momoyok soman (sagam): f l y i n g fox; momoyok samanim: f a r away, distant son: seed; r e s p o n s i b i l i t y ; i n i t i a t i v e biit son: materials for working biit ilami son: his own choice, r e s p o n s i b i l i t y ; i n i t i a t i v e sang: n a r r a t i v e , story Afek sang: sacred and secret myths about Afek magalo sang: rumour sogaamiyok sang: tales of long ago (approximates the notion of legend) utuum sang: non-secret tales t o l d f o r entertainment, often with moral content waasi sang: t a l e s about warfare sebalam: a va r i e t y of ginger sel: a v a r i e t y of w i l d pandanus; the mafuum headdress made from i t s leaves selman: eagle owl, forbidden to women sengaa: bush fowl, forbidden to women sep: bush sebam: bush house, garden house sepwaasi: 'bush enemies', non-Telefolmin ( t r a d i t i o n a l enemies who may be eaten) sep bilsak, am bilsak: 'verandah post i n the bush, verandah post at home'; aphorism affirming male s u p e r i o r i t y 507 s i l i i l dan: tree sap used to prepare mafuum body paint sinik: s p i r i t ; r e f l e c t i o n ; shadow; image; resemblance; awareness; v i t a l i t y sinik-so: l i v e l y , fresh and young kafan-so sinik: a l i v e ('awake s p i r i t ' ) sinok: a rat, forbidden to men sogaalim: a large l i z a r d , skin used for drumheads sogaamiyok: long ago sogaamiyok sang: a t a l e of long ago soobim: a marsupial forbidden to women to eat suu: a b i r d forbidden to women to eat suuk: tobacco; a cig a r e t t e suukang: c o n c i a l tobacco bundle, t r a d i t i o n a l l y traded f o r cowries tiin suuk: cross-eyed; ignorant ('tobacco eye') suum'- banana (generic) suum aalab: v a r i e t y of banana suum kalom: v a r i e t y of banana suum toen: v a r i e t y of banana suum umkan: v a r i e t y of banana suum usii : v a r i e t y of banana I tagaa: s t i n g i n g n e t t l e s toman (-kaman): v a l l e y tambal: good; healthy; handsome tenum tambal: a good man ( t h e o r e t i c a l l y open-handed and generous) tamoon: personal leavings sorcery tan: small c h i l d tandet: songs sung by novices i n the dagasal ban tang: smell tang mafak: bad smell top ban: second phase of iman ban tenum: man; person tenum magam: genealogy tenum miit: .cognatic descent category tenum sok: 'man vine', a vine with red flowers growing from under the T e l e f o l i p and spreading out into the surrounding countryside Tenum Miitim: He Who i s the Source of Men (Magalim) 508 tetil: curing r i t e f o r epidemic i l l n e s s tetiin: a hawk, forbidden to women teti'p: casuarina tibisdk: anger, angry ('forehead blood') tigin: h i l l , mountain amdutigin: peak tiim ban: 'dew-washing' part of dagasal ban tiin: eye tiin aloop: i n s i g h t f u l ; a man with c l e a r v i s i o n ; a seer ('two eyes') tiin binim: b l i n d ('no eyes'); stupid; headstrong tiin buul: to f a i n t , lose consciousness tiin kubabesu: covered eyes, obscured v i s i o n tiin suuk: cross-eyed; not perceptive timiit: cucumber timitiim: t a l l ; long tin: beeswax tinangkamin: to hear; to understand tingii: disc-headed stone club tisol: valuables (cowries, stone adzes, etc.) tituleng bagamin: to make fun of or joke about someone tiyam: a b i r d tlalalep ban: t h i r d i n i t i a t i o n . tlooben: a large marsupial forbidden to men tobaa: red cordyline, forbidden for women to touch tobaa miton: red cordyline planted i n garden selected f or iman ban tobaadaam: red cor y l i n e fence enclosing the yolam tobaal: secret name for menstrual blood iman tobaal: o r i g i n a l taro, with mottled red f l e s h (forbidden) tobaabu: cassava togol: f a t ; grease tol: clay, s o i l ; yellowish clay worn i n mourning toliim: high a l t i t u d e gardening zone tolong: ears tolong binim: stubborn, stupid, lacking i n sense ('no ears') 509 tuul: hearth iman tuul: Taro hearth i n the iman ilo d i v i s i o n of the men's cu l t un tuul: Arrow hearth i n the un ilo d i v i s i o n of the men's c u l t U libit'. a rat forbidden to men uleseen: a large marsupial forbidden to men ulimal: a man, hi s child r e n , and his pigs; 'family' ugem: a resinous plant, used to make a torch f o r curing , ugem kong: a pi g s a c r i f i c e d i n a curing r i t e ; the curing r i t e i t s e l f un: arrow un at: sacred arrow f i r e i n r i t u a l s ; arrow-smoking r i t e before warfare un baal: Arrow r i t e , r i t e performed for hunting or warfare (6th i n i t . ) un ilo: Arrow Side; one h a l f of the dual divison of the men's c u l t un men: r e l i c s and usong for hunting or warfare un miip: arrow binding; the herringbone s l a t pattern on the walls of the T e l e f o l i p un miit: Arrow Base or Arrow Kind; l i f e - t a k i n g h a l f of the men's cu l t un miit kayaak: an expert i n hunting or warfare r i t e s ; man of the Arrow Side unam: woman's s k i r t unankalin: food unankalin amem (abem): tabu food unang: woman unangabiip: u n r e s t r i c t e d section of the v i l l a g e ('woman clearing') unangam: a family house or dwelling house ('woman house') unang nuk: marsupials reserved for women (and children) unuuk: bow unuuk tenim: black palm bow traded from south and southwest unuuk telom: black palm bow traded from southeast usong: s p i r i t s of the men's c u l t (must have died natural.death); a seer or diviner utamamin: to see; to know utan: ground-dwelling python forbidden to men utuum, utuummin: ' l i t t l e people' supposed to have l i v e d i n Ifitaman before . . Afek came utuum sang: ' f a i r y t a l e s ' supposedly about the doings of utuummin (but made-up) uultem: s a l t b i n i n corner of house uun: b i r d (generic); nowadays, chicken 5 1 0 uunok: large lowland cassowary forbidden to a l l Telefolmin ('bird mother') uununang: s p i r i t women who look a f t e r birds uyam dan: tree sap used i n body paint for mafuum ban W waafu: saved or a l i v e waafunamin: to preserve; hold onto; capture waan: tuber (yam or sweet potato; generic) waan aalab: a yam only permitted to seniors waan amem: a yam only permitted to seniors waasi: enemy; warfare amwaasi: domestic enemies, i . e . , other Telefolmin who should not be k i l l e d sepwaasi: t r a d i t i o n a l enemies who may be eaten waasi bagan: enemy t e r r i t o r y waasi sang: t a l e s of warfare watom: bush wallaby weng: speech or tal k ; words weng amem: sacred and secret speech; es o t e r i c l o r e of the men's c u l t weng atul: hot tal k ; angry or i n s u l t i n g t a l k weng aal: i n s u l t i n g t a l k weng binim: 'no ta l k ' , s i l e n c e (usually response to shame) weng doo: metaphorical ('reminding') ta l k ; s k i t s performed i n i n i t i a t i o n s weng kem: non-secret moral Ins t r u c t i o n given to i n i t i a n d s weng mafak; c u r s i n g ; • i n s u l t i n g t a l k weng migik: deceptive or misleading t a l k ; l i e s weng tambal: good t a l k , sound counsel win: name win-so tenum: a man with a name, i . e . , a good reputation win binim: a man with no name, i . e . , no reputation; a forgotten man Y yet: wild f i g s yol: s a l t made from vegetable ash yol: l i z a r d arrow yolam: men's c u l t house, home of the usong (forbidden to n o n - i n i t i a t e s ) yolabiip: the fenced yard surrounding the yolam yook: a v a r i e t y of pigeon forbidden to women yuul: men's antiphonal c r i e s , often to announce a r r i v a l or sometimes j u s t for the fun of i t while walking through the forest 511 APPENDIX I I : The Two Bli n d Men Who Lived Inside a Stone* A large stone stands. Inside t h i s stone two cross-cousins had made th e i r home. These two men were b l i n d , could not s e e — t h e y had no eyes. One of them made gardens while the other hunted with traps and snares. The hunter went up the mountain one day to check one of h i s snares along a cassowary run. He went and found a cassowary i n the s n a r e — i t was huge and very f a t , and he was very happy. But he didn't see that there was another there, one who could 2 see. The b l i n d man took up the cassowary on h i s shoulders, and as he did so, the other man hopped on top too and sat a s t r i d e the cassowary. The b l i n d one thought to himself, "wow! This sure i s a heavy cassowary! We'll have l o t s of meat and f a t to eat tonight." Then he staggered downslope with h i s burden and came to h i s house. He pounded on the outside of the large stone with a small stone, and i t opened and he went i n s i d e , where h i s cross-cousin was waiting. He put the cassowary down, and the two of them sat on opposite sides of the hearth. The t h i r d one sat between them but they had no eyes and didn't see him. They were getting ready to cook t h e i r food now, and the hunter cooked the l i v e r of the cassowary while the gardner cooked some taro. When the food was done, they were going to exchange t h e i r food so each could have some meat and some taro. But the t h i r d one was there too. When one of the men went to pass some food across to the other, the t h i r d one would take t h i s from h i s hand. I f a piece of roast taro was passed across, he would eat i t and only pass on a small piece of crust to the other man. If a piece of cassowary was passed across, he would eat i t and only pass a ti n y piece of skin on. 512 This went on f o r some time, and the two b l i n d c ross-cousins suspected each other of being greedy: "When I ask him f o r something, he only gives me a l i t t l e , and bad food too. And yet he keeps asking me f o r more and more, complaining that he i s s t i l l hungry!" And so they became angry and thought badly of one another. In the meantime, the other man there had eaten so much that he had to defecate. He was i n s i d e the stone, and could f i n d no p l a c e to go, so he 3 defecated i n the s a l t - b i n (uultem) i n the corner of the house. One of the b l i n d men s a i d to h i s c r o s s - c o u s i n , "get some s a l t (yol) and pass i t to me". The other cousin reached i n f o r some s a l t , but no! He groped around and f e l t something strange. He smelled h i s f i n g e r s . He t a s t e d . "Eee! What's t h i s ? ! That's not s a l t , t h a t ' s s h i t (ool)• You're not a c h i l d any more that you s h i t i n the house! Why d i d you do t h i s t h i n g ? ! " And the other thought to h i m s e l f , " f i r s t he refuses to share h i s food w i t h me, and now he wants to p i c k a f i g h t . Very w e l l ! " And so the two of them began to f i g h t , each f l a i l i n g a piece of firewood at the other. They were b l i n d and couldn't f i g h t very w e l l , but the other man would h i t them both w i t h firewood, and so they became more and more f u r i o u s at each other. Soon they were a f r a i d of wrecking the house, so they went outside to f i g h t , w i t h the other man f o l l o w i n g them. Not f a r away, another man had j u s t made a f i r e to c l e a r the s l a s h i n h i s garden, and had gone back to h i s house to get some tobacco seeds. The two b l i n d men kept f i g h t i n g , and the t h i r d man k i c k e d them, and they r o l l e d down the s l o p e , s t i l l f i g h t i n g , and then f e l l i n t o the garden f i r e and were burned. Then the s i g h t e d man ran away. When the man who was making the garden r e t u r n e d , he saw the two b l i n d men l y i n g among the ashes. He reached down g i n g e r l y and p u l l e d one of the f i n g e r s . I t came o f f i n h i s hand, and he wondered what i t t a s t e d l i k e . He put a l i t t l e to h i s l i p s and found i t was d e l i c i o u s ! He got e x c i t e d about 513 the prospect of a l l t h i s meat, and hurried o f f to cut some bamboo containers (tet) so he could carry the meat home. But he was i n too much of a hurry and didn't pay attention to what he was doing. He chopped at some bamboo with his adze, and he cut i t wrong—he cut a bent bamboo s t a l k , and i t sprung up and impaled him through h i s b e l l y . And so he was dead, frozen with h i s adze r a i s e d up over h i s head. A l i t t l e while l a t e r , a boy was going upstream towards the bamboo thi c k e t , carrying h i s bow and l i z a r d arrows (yol) and looking f o r something to shoot. Ahead through the forest he made out the f i g u r e of a man with h i s adze raised up, and the boy thought t h i s man was going to k i l l him. Frightened, he threw away h i s bow and arrow and ran away downstream, and as he ran he tripped over a tree root, c u t t i n g o f f h i s penis (et) as he f e l l . His penis was swept downstream u n t i l i t came to a pool where the sedges for women's s k i r t s (umam) grew. There were two s i s t e r s there, gathering sedges for t h e i r s k i r t s . They had no husbands. The elder of the two s i s t e r s waded into the deep part of the pool. Now the penis that had been c a r r i e d down there got up and went i n s i d e her vagina and started moving around. "What's t h i s ? " So she thought. She l i k e d i t , and then she thought to h e r s e l f , "now I have a husband!" Not t e l l i n g her 4 s i s t e r , she cut a forked piece of wood and l i n e d i t with s o f t leaves to make a "nest" f o r her penis. Then she went and took i t back to her house. Her s i s t e r didn't know about t h i s . She p u l l e d away a s t r i p of the bark f l o o r and put her penis there i n i t s nest. This was by her s i t t i n g place next to the hearth, and whenever she wanted to f e e l the penis, she would simply s i t down over t h i s spot: then i t would spring up through the f l o o r and enter her. Soon she became pregnant and gave b i r t h to a l i t t l e boy. When her younger s i s t e r asked her about t h i s , pointing out that there were no men, the 514 elder s i s t e r simply answered, "I went up on top of a high h i l l , and l i f t e d my s k i r t and spread my legs when a strong wind was blowing". Her s i s t e r believed her and t r i e d t h i s , but nothing happened, she only began sneezing. The younger asked her s i s t e r again, saying that she knew she had been l i e d to. The elder s i s t e r said, "I went out into the bush and found a w i l d taro and rubbed i t i n and out of my vagina". And so the younger t r i e d t h i s , but a l l that happened was that her vagina became i r r i t a t e d and it c h y . One day the elder s i s t e r asked the younger to hold her baby while she went outside to defecate. The younger s i s t e r did t h i s , and when she sat down at her s i s t e r ' s place on the f l o o r , the penis sprang up and entered her. Then she became angry and thought, "so, t h i s i s what my s i s t e r has been l y i n g to me about!". She took up some cooking tongs and covered the penis with hot coals and ashes (ek) from the f i r e . She k i l l e d i t — s h e k i l l e d her s i s t e r ' s husband. The elder s i s t e r came back and sat down with the baby while the younger s i s t e r went out to get some firewood. She sat and waited f o r the penis to enter her, but nothing happened. When she looked down, she saw nothing but ashes—then she knew what her s i s t e r had done. Later, when the younger s i s t e r returned, she leaned over and stuck her head through the doorway as she was entering the house. The elder s i s t e r took up her adze and struck. The younger s i s t e r ' s head f e l l i n s i d e the house and her body f e l l outside. The mother and her son remained, and then he grew up. He didn't have a name. These people are a l l dead now. That's the end of the story. 5 1 5 NOTES Chapter 1: Introduction 1. This d i s s e r t a t i o n i s based on fieldwork c a r r i e d out i n Telefolmin between February 1974 and October 1975. A subsequent v i s i t was paid to Telefolmin i n the summer of 1979 under the auspices of the following i n s t i t u t i o n s , which I take t h i s opportunity to thank: The University of Western Ontario Faculty of S o c i a l Science; the S o c i a l Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada; the National Science Foundation; the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research; the Smithsonian I n s t i t u t i o n ; and C u l t u r a l S u r v i v a l . This l a t t e r v i s i t was undertaken for research independent of that discussed here, but i t provided a welcome opportunity to confirm some key points of i n t e r p r e t a t i o n and allowed the gathering of some supplementary information which has, where relevant, been included i n t h i s account. 2. In what follows I of course do not attempt to deal with the sum t o t a l of each of these w r i t e r s ' work, but instead only focus upon what seem to be t h e i r most d i s t i n c t i v e contributions to our notions of the r e l a t i o n between structure and experience. I have likewise chosen to l i m i t the discussion to the works of these authors, though i t w i l l be obvious that many others could be brought within the range of t h i s discussion. 3. Here I do not take up Levi-Strauss' use of the concept of inversions, but i t i s evident from his Asdiwal analysis and other works that a key a n a l y t i c point i s that r e l a t i o n s between structures can be n e g a t i v e — i . e . , i n v e r t e d — as w e l l as p o s i t i v e or homologous. 4. This i s with the notable exception of some of the c l o s i n g passages of Purity and Danger and, i n p a r t i c u l a r , the excellent piece on Dogon d i v i n a t i o n ( i n Implicit Meanings). 5. Though Leach (among others) has also touched upon the t o p i c of status rev e r s a l (cf. 1976), i t seems i n his hands to be merely a d i a c r i t i c to s i g n a l the s h i f t from normal to r i t u a l time without, however, r e a l l y exploring the implications of such s h i f t i n g . This i s f a i r l y representative of the r e l a t i v e l y weak i n t e r p r e t a t i o n given some of van Gennep's basic ideas i n the general run of anthropological thought. 6. See, for example Beck (1978), Ricoeur (1977b). 7. Here Burke's work (1966) i s c l e a r l y apposite. One of the c r i t i c a l properties of language i s the a b i l i t y to bring p o s s i b i l i t y before the mind and to enfranchise counterfactual speculation. 8. See Beck (1978), Fernandez (1974), Ricoeur (1977b, 1978). There i s a family resemblance between "lexical-semantic" s i g n i f i c a t i o n vs. the meanings of metaphor and Sperber's (1975) d i s t i n c t i o n between encyclopaedic and symbolic knowledge. 516 In Ricoeur's words, "...the strategy of discourse implied i n metaphorical language i s neither to improve communication nor to ensure univocity i n argumentation, but to shatter and increase our sense of r e a l i t y by shattering and increasing our language.... With metaphor we experience the metamorphosis of both language and r e a l i t y " (1978:132-3). Habu seems already to have born f r u i t i n the work of others. See, for example, S c h i e f f e l i n ' s excellent Sorrow of the Lonely and the Burning of the Danoers (1976), which seems c l e a r l y to be founded upon the s c a f f o l d i n g b u i l t up by Habu. Here we may note that awareness and c u l t u r a l meaning are perhaps to be understood as standing on complementary sides of the same coin: transformation of awareness proceeds through transformation of meaning and vice-versa. V i r t u a l l y a l l of my information on T e l e f o l c u l t u r e stems from my conversations with men, and i t was impossible for me to achieve a corresponding degree of contact with women, due l a r g e l y to pervasive adultery fears and supicions. To the extent that I comment about women or th e i r s i t u a t i o n , t h i s i s l a r g e l y based on an understanding of the men's views balanced against my own observations and a few p r i v i l e g e d conversations with elder women, e s p e c i a l l y with Konungen, my self-appointed mother. I decline to o f f e r a formal d e f i n i t i o n of r e l i g i o n , though a number are av a i l a b l e to us i n the l i t e r a t u r e . My preference i s to l e t d e f i n i t i o n a l problems remain i n the background i n the hopes that we can get further by l e t t i n g a sense of things emerge i n the course of discussion. Published works on the Mountain Ok peoples include Barth (1971, 1975); Brongersma and Venema (1962); Champion (1966); B. Craig (1967), R. Craig (1969); Cranstone (1968); Healey (1962); Jorgensen (1980); Pouwer (1964); Quinlivan (1954); and Wheatcroft (1973). Unpublished works by Hyndman, Jones, Poole, and Wheatcroft should be consulted. The present work i n v i t e s comparison with Barth (1975). Chapter 2: The Background of T e l e f o l L i f e In f a c t , T e l e f o l theory maintains that i f a man comes i n contact with menstrual blood, he w i l l be blinded to game i n the bush. Note a curious s t r u c t u r a l p a r a l l e l between the s o c i a l arrangement a t t r i b u t e d to kundunang and Mead's account of Mundugumor "ropes" (1963). There i s also a resonance here of what may be a widespread a s s o c i a t i o n between primordial women and male dogs (cf. Gewertz 1978; Williams 1977) This utuum sang i s at t r i b u t e d to the Fegolmin. Compare the f l o o r p l a n of K a l u l i longhouses, which seem to display the same s t r u c t u r a l arrangement ( S c h i e f f e l i n 1976:33). In information I gathered about suicide i n Telefolmin, 23 of 28 cas involved some sort of breakdown i n re l a t i o n s between men and women es 517 Chapter 3: Order and Entropy i n the T e l e f o l World See, e.g., Cook (1966); Kaberry (1967); Langness (1964); Pouwer (1966a,b); Salisbury (1964); Schwimmer (1973); and Watson (1965, 1970). Much the same could be said i n r e l a t i o n to A u s t r a l i a n systems of marriage. "Mountain Ok" i s a l i n g u i s t i c term o r i g i n a l l y coined by Alan Healey, and i s d i f f e r e n t i a t e d from the Lowland Ok languages i n the region of the upper Digul and F l y r i v e r s . For our purposes i t w i l l s u f f i c e to i d e n t i f y as Mountain Ok those peoples whose own designations for themselves are marked by the common s u f f i x -min or -tan(a), denoting "people" or "descendants". Some of those claimed by Telefolmin to be Afekman—e.g., the Dulanmin or Oksapmin—are i n fact speakers of languages unrelated to Mountain Ok proper, though c u l t u r a l a f f i n i t i e s seem evident to an outsider. Some of the other tenum miit names are Misinmin, Tumiitmin, Timkelmin, Uubrenmin, Tomaanmin. With the exception of Misinmin, these are s a i d to be "other names" f o r members of the four tenum miit already mentioned. For example, Tomaanmin i s s a i d to be a name assumed by the Kayaalikmin r e s i d i n g i n T e l e f o l i p a f t e r the founding of the Kayaalikmin v i l l a g e (now i n c l u d i n g Derolengam and Ankevip) from T e l e f o l i p . While i t i s tempting to view these other names as i n d i c a t i v e of f i s s i o n and segmentation of tenum miit, my informants i n s i s t that t h i s i s simply a matter of names and that, e.g., Tomaanmin are " r e a l l y " Kayaalikmin, and there are likewise attempts to place the other names within the framework of the four " o r i g i n a l " tenum miit. Misinmin i t s e l f seems to be an anomalous case, and I found no consensus on whether i t i s to be considered as " r e a l l y " one of the others or an independent tenum miit. Some at least harbour the suspicion that Misinmin may not i n fact be a true T e l e f o l tenum miit at a l l . This i s c l e a r l y a complicated matter, and one which I would l i k e to explore on another occasion. The core v i l l a g e s founded d i r e c t l y from T e l e f o l i p are: Kubrenmin (Kubrenmin tenum miit), B i i l t e v i p (Bogelmin tenum miit), Falamtigin (Atemkayaakmin tenum miit), and Kayaalikmin Derolengam + Ankevip (Kayaalikmin tenum miit). Together, these v i l l a g e s account for the majority of the Telefolmin population i n Ifitaman (see Maps). See Gewertz (1978) and Williams (1977) on women and dogs i n the mythos of other peoples of Papua New Guinea. Such ideas are s p a t i a l l y demarcated and i d e n t i f i e d only i n the v i l l a g e of T e l e f o l i p . Abii'p r e f e r s both to the v i l l a g e s of Derolengam and Ankevip and to the la r g e r e n t i t y of Kayaalikmin as a whole, which might be termed a v i l l a g e -c l u s t e r . I defer exploration of the formation of such c l u s t e r s to another occasion. In p r a c t i c e , the tendency i s to i d e n t i f y Derolengam and Ankevip as separate e n t i t i e s i n normal usage. In t h i s p a r t i c u l a r case, the two v i l l a g e s seem to have formed from f i s s i o n r e l a t i v e l y recently, but remained i n close proximity to one another. The p r i o r presence of Nukokmin ("marsupial-mother people") and the more or less "mythical" Utuummin i s conceded. 518 My orthography d i f f e r s from that adopted by the Healeys from time to time. As they have themselves noted, T e l e f o l orthography i s i n a continual process of refinement. Such differences as there are should be understood as the r e s u l t of varying pronunciations within T e l e f o l , the vagaries of one's hearing, and a balancing of the demands of phonemic accuracy against those of r e a d a b i l i t y f o r English speakers. There i s no c o r r e l a t i o n d i s c e r n i b l e between tenum miit and the use of kinterms. In p r a c t i c e , a k i n term can be found f o r almost anyone i n Telefolmin. This r e s u l t s i n a net masculinization of genealogies. The s i t u a t i o n i s only marginally clearer i f blocs of land are considered i n terms of the v i l l a g e memberships of those who c u l t i v a t e them. Land r i g h t s are i n d i v i d u a l i z e d and s h i f t through time—any general tendency i n the pattern of landholdings i s more a r e f l e c t i o n of inheritance patterns following from endogamous marriages. Occasionally s i b l i n g s or a f f i n e s w i l l attempt to coordinate t h e i r gardening movements. Such harvesting following a hunt had to be performed by a man who had not a c t u a l l y k i l l e d any animals during the hunt. Compare G e l l ' s exposition of the centre/periphery opposition among the Umeda (1975). The conventional cash value for bonang ranges from two to s i x (Australian) d o l l a r s , while that f or pigs i s conventionally put at roughly t h i r t y (Australian) d o l l a r s . This i s based upon the administration's census figures f o r 1971. In the event, such a move had n o t — b y 1979—taken place. Note that h i s loss i s only p a r t i a l l y balanced by the presumptive advantages of l i n k s with r e l a t i v e l y powerful and wealthy outsiders. According to current reckoning, the T e l e f o l i p has been r e b u i l t t h i r t e e n times since i t s founding. Twenty-seven i s the base of the counting system. See Healey and Healey 1977:18-9). In Telefolmin, as elsewhere, turnabout i s f a i r play. Compare Burridge's analysis of the Tangu category imbatekas (1969). 519 Chapter 4: The World of the Yolam There seems to be no o v e r a l l meaning a t t r i b u t a b l e to amitung (Craig 1967). This seems to share the l o g i c of the dubung p r o h i b i t i o n . For an example of si m i l a r regulations among the Iatmul, see Bateson (1958:36-42). I t seems clear that magalo and magam are a n t i t h e t i c a l l y r e l a t e d . It i s tempting to view magalo as the l i n g u i s t i c negation of magam, since negation can be indicated by the i n s e r t i o n of -I- i n the f i n a l s y l l a b l e of a word. This, however, cannot be the case, for t h i s i s a verb construction, and the appropriate form i n any case would then be magalam. When I questioned informants on poss i b l e l i n g u i s t i c r e l a t i o n s between the words magam and magalo they were noncommital but remarked that i n any event i f something were without magam then i t would be magalo. Biit was originated by an aanangen, which i s one of Magalim's manifestations. This consists of passing the distraught c h i l d between and underneath the mother's legs. I have seen men do the same thing with taro that had been dropped or otherwise poorly treated, and once saw a man pass a men amem between his legs a f t e r i t was roughly (but a c c i d e n t a l l y ) knocked down from the wall upon which i t had been hung. Note the passage of i n i t i a n d s through i n i t i a t o r s ' legs i n the om ban. In each case, such a c t i o n i s spoken of as "binding the sinik". In the course of the ugem kong curing r i t e , the men amem to whom the pig i s s a c r i f i c e d i s then hung above the doorway of the house i n which the r i t e i s held. The p a r t i c i p a n t s then enter the house underneath t h i s men amem and the leg of a senior man (the one who looks a f t e r the men amem i n question), which he stretches over the entryway. This may also be r e l a t e d to the pr a c t i c e older men adopt of passing otherwise forbidden food to young c h i l d r e n underneath t h e i r l e f t armpit, though I was unable to get any e x p l i c i t exegesis on t h i s point. Though money was occasionally involved i n Ok Bembem, and though the leader himself occasionally p r o f i t e d from t h i s (indeed, handsomely i n one case known to me), i n general the amounts were small and most of the money went to finance " p a r t i e s " for those who came to the seances. For most of the pa r t i c i p a n t s the concern was less a matter of gaining access to goods than gaining contact with loved ones who had died. People were i n the main motivated by lo n e l i n e s s for the dead rather than desire for wealth. Chapter 5: T e l e f o l Religion and What It Means Among those anthropologists who one way or another have drawn upon the work of theologians are Burridge, Douglas, Evans-Pritchard, and Turner. The general reluctance to pursue the o l o g i c a l matters, however, i s perhaps most c l e a r l y stated by Evans-Pritchard at the end of Nuer Religion, and I w i l l c i t e h i s c l o s i n g remarks i n f u l l : We can...say no more than that S p i r i t i s an i n t u i t i v e apprehension, something experienced i n response to ce r t a i n s i t u a t i o n s but known d i r e c t l y only to the imagination and not to the senses.... We seem indeed 520 to be watching a play or l i s t e n i n g to someone's account of what he has dreamt. Perhaps when we have t h i s i l l u s i o n we are beginning to understand, f o r the si g n i f i c a n c e of the objects, actions, and events l i e s not i n themselves but i n what they mean to those who experience them as pa r t i c i p a n t s and a s s i s t a n t s . What th i s experience i s the anthropologist cannot f o r c e r t a i n say. Experiences of this kind are not e a s i l y communicated even when people are ready to communicate them and have a sophisticated vocabulary i n which to do so. Though prayer and s c a r i f i c e are exterior actions, Nuer r e l i g i o n i s u l t i m a t e l y an i n t e r i o r state. This state i s externalized i n r i t e s which we can observe, but t h e i r meaning depends f i n a l l y on an awareness of God and that men are dependent upon him and must be resigned to his w i l l . At t h i s point the theologian takes over from the anthropologist (Evans-Pritchard 1956:321-2). Clear l y , Evans-Pritchard's reluctance to go further i s well-grounded and i s based on an appreciation of the depth of the problems and the l i m i t s of anthropology. But these are l i m i t s which we must seek to extend, and i t i s i n t h i s s p i r i t that the present work i s written. 2. The strengths and l i m i t a t i o n s of t h i s are perhaps best seen i n G e l l ' s excellent Metamorphosis of the Cassowaries (1975), where a painstaking and b r i l l i a n t a n alysis of Umeda r i t u a l i s i n the end i s brought back down to a discourse on problems i n Umeda s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s . As a necessary s c a f f o l d i n g to approach Umeda r i t u a l , the emphasis on s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s seems to pay o f f . But the obvious riches brought to l i g h t i n the course of the ana l y s i s are cast away i n the f i n a l attempt to re-ground the discussion i n terms of s o c i a l structure, r e s u l t i n g , i n my view, i n a s h o r t - c i r c u i t i n g of i n t e r p r e t i v e power. Appendix I I : The Two Blind Men Who Lived Inside a Stone 1. "Two no-eyes", tiin binim aloop, a popular utuum sang. 2. According to some versions, t h i s mysterious t h i r d man i s a ghost, bagel. 3. Cf. ooltem, 'anus'. 4. 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Taro and arrows: order, entropy, and religion among the Telefolmin
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