Scary Stories

One day, about a week ago, I woke up and went with Wak Nani, one of the girls I live with to collect cassava leaves for lunch. On our way, she casually mentioned that just about everyone in the village was going back to their home village – Kampung Baretchi, about an hour’s walk from Ampangan Woh – for a few days to have a ceremony. My host father, a healer, had, about a month before, called upon the spirits to cure a sick neighbor, and so they were having a multi-day sewang, or traditional ceremony, to thank the spirits (or ghosts, or demons, as various people refer to them). Wak Nani told me that I was welcome to come along, if I wanted to, or stay behind. Thrilled to be invited to a traditional event, I asked to go along.

Some Background

You might remember that a few months ago, when I first came to Ampangan Woh, I was reading a book about the Semai people, written by an American anthropologist and linguist who had spent most of his life studying Semai. One of the most fascinating chapters, for me, was his chapter on Semai religion and spirituality. Semai people will claim that they have no religion, but what they mean is, they do not participate in any organized religion. They do not attend any religious services, nor do they belong to any congregations. However, they are very spiritual people, and they do believe in an all-powerful being. They do not consider that this being is either good or bad – he exists to maintain balance and order in the universe, ensuring that wrongdoings are met with proper punishment. Semai people also believe strongly in ghosts and spirits (and demons, but without the negative connotation that English gives the word). These ghosts and spirits can either help or harm humans. “Healers,” like my host father, and my host mother’s brother, are people who have the ability to communicate with the spirit world. A spirit can choose to visit a human in a dream through a melody, which the human, if he (or sometimes, but not often, she) is willing, can choose to accept and learn. The human then becomes a healer, and is able to use the melody to call upon his spirit “familiar” and ask it for help, in curing someone who has fallen ill, in protecting those he loves, or in any area of life. The book I read discussed in detail the process of holding a sewang and calling upon the spirits. I’m glad I read about it beforehand, as it made a lot of things a lot clearer to me, in terms of what was going on, and what we were doing. As I describe what happened, I’ll draw partially from what I learned through reading, partially from what students and friends explained me, and a great deal more from what I saw firsthand. Incidentally, the author lamented that he was unable to witness a sewang himself, as Semai people no longer permit outsiders to join. I guess I’m not an outsider anymore.

We left Ampangan Woh around 2 in the afternoon, and headed through the jungle, taking a different, less steep route than we had to the farmhouse. We were essentially following the river, so the land remained relatively flat. After about an hour of walking (occasionally scrambling over rocks and fallen tree trunks), we reached the place where we had to cross the river. Ordinarily the crossing is pretty easy, and the water level low, but the recent rains had transformed it into pretty rough water, with rocks and drops that made me think it was less than wise to cross on foot. Fortunately, those members of our group with more ability to navigate a safe path took the lead – and my arm – and we all made it safely to the other side, wading through knee-deep, rushing water. Another half hour on dry land, we arrived at the village, with the leech bites to prove it (the bees have stopped attacking me, but I’ve now become a magnet for leeches. I prefer the bees). We all went to shower at the (freezing) river, and then gathered in the house of several of my students. As we waited for dinner to be ready, a few villagers told me a little bit about the sewang. Apak, my host father, and Ros, one of my students, would invite their spirit familiars to come, but opening this link to the spirit world could make us vulnerable to any other ghosts that might be around. One of my students specifically mentioned the “tiger,” which is the most powerful, most feared spirit. As a precaution to make sure we were safe from him and from all other ghosts, the door had to remain closed and no one could leave until the sewang was finished. (Whether the door and walls made of bamboo leaves would stop a demon tiger from getting into the house is still questionable, in my opinion.) We all ate dinner – rice and cassava leaves, and some fish the boys caught in the river – everyone went outside to use the bathroom one last time, and then we got started, about 9:30.

Ros, Apak, and the men of the group were gathered in one corner of the room, closest to the door. The women were seated in a semi circle around them, with heavy wooden logs in front of us. Ros, facing the door, away from us, started chanting. He started laying tall palm-like fronds against the door and the walls, even tying one to the support beam that rose up from the floor to the ceiling just behind me. No one was being particularly reverent – most people were just chatting amongst themselves. Then Ros took a bundle of strong-smelling leaves, dipped it in water, and started sprinkling it on everyone in the room. He was still chanting in Semai, and although I only caught a few words, I understood it to be a prayer for protection as we called the spirits. Apak was lying on his side in the corner, also chanting, but more quietly, as if to himself. The women were each given two hollow bamboo poles of different sizes and started banging them on the logs in front of us, like drums. Each note was slightly different, but they made a kind of eerie melody. When everyone was satisfied with their pipes, the flashlight was turned off and the candles extinguished (there is no electricity in the village). The only light came from the last few embers of the fire, and from the occasional pinprick of light from someone’s cigarette. Apak started to really sing, and the women kept the beat with the bamboo pipes. They also started to harmonize, their voices high and spooky. The song went on and on, sometimes fast, sometimes slower, and although I was trying to stay alert, the repetitiveness started to make my eyelids droop. Zamni, one of my young adult students, about my age, was sitting next to me, and she handed me a pillow and told me to lie down, and that everyone who wasn’t drumming would be lying down. I felt the space beside me to make sure I didn’t lie on top of anyone and stretched out. I lay there, listening to Apak’s melody and the drums, dozing a bit, but being jarred awake whenever the rhythm changed. Eventually, I sat up and felt weirdly disoriented – I couldn’t find the support beam I had been leaning on earlier, and as I felt around in the dark I couldn’t find anyone else. I could hear the drums and the singing, but I couldn’t tell what direction they were coming from, or which way I had been facing earlier – all the sounds seemed disembodied. I was relieved when someone turned the flashlight on after only a few minutes more and I found everyone right where they should have been – evidently my hands had been just missing them in the dark. The candles were re-lit, and I checked my watch – 1:00 am, over three hours after we had begun. It was a bit like waking up from a dream – everyone was just talking and laughing. Suddenly, everyone screamed and pointed to the door. I saw nothing, but apparently everyone had seen a ghost trying to get through the door. Ros went outside to check on things (once the lights come back the door is allowed to be opened) but he came back almost immediately – he hadn’t found anything worth worrying about. Soon after, we all went to bed, everyone still pretty shaken from the ghost sighting.

In the morning, we woke up slowly and had a long breakfast of fried cassava chips and coffee. Then I went with a couple of the girls to collect lunch (bamboo and cassava roots). We returned to the house and cooked together, and then passed the afternoon hanging out with the kids, napping, picking fruit, and making dinner. It started to rain in the late afternoon, and almost as soon as it got dark, the thunder started – good weather for calling spirits. We all gathered in the house again for dinner, and then we started all over again. This time, someone asked if I wanted to try drumming. Of course I said yes, so I took the two pipes I was handed. Wak Nani quickly showed me how to hold them and how to bang them against the logs for optimal sound, and then we took our seats. There was no introductory chanting or prayer this time – the lights went off right away (but there was no stopping the lightning from illuminating the sky and occasionally the faces of people in the room). At first I was very focused on my pipes, trying to copy the rhythm I heard around me. Given that I learned in the dark, I think I did pretty well. After that, it was pretty much the same as the night before. Once I got the hang of the pipes I could listen to the melody as well. We finished at 11:30, and turned the flashlight back on, and got our cooking fire going again to really get some light. Then it was time for dancing. At first two women – one student of mine, and one I did not know – were the only ones dancing, just stepping in time to our drums and swinging their arms and bodies. Suddenly my student’s movements changed. She began to throw herself violently around the room, even falling heavily to the floor, and running into everyone still seated around her. Wak Nani whispered to me that she was “crazy,” “not herself,” and didn’t know anyone or remember anything. She was in a kind of trance, apparently, and although I am reluctant to believe that, it was very convincing. I know this woman quite well, and don’t think she is the kind to be pretending something like that. Her long, frizzy hair had fallen out of its ever-perfect bun, and was wild. Suddenly she fell on the floor and lay completely still. Two other women picked her up and carried her away to the bedroom. She emerged a short while later looking completely composed and as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I danced for a while, with my friends to assured me that I couldn’t go crazy like that because I am not Semai. But when Rajina (another adult student who is generally very sweet and soft-spoken) started throwing herself around, we all sat back down, out of the way. Suddenly, my host mother had abandoned her one-year-old granddaughter who she had been caring for and was in the center of the circle, not dancing but moving grotesquely, on her hands and knees and writhing on the floor. Her daughters and the kids were howling with laughter, and I was trying to look as though this was not strange, and the women just kept on drumming. Rajina kept running toward the fire, attracted to the red embers – red being the color of demons – and (according to Wak Nani) hoping to eat it. Fortunately, the men had encircled the fire, to prevent just this kind of thing. A branch of a traditional plant was placed in her hand, and she held it over her eyes, peering through it to find her friends (also according to Wak Nani). When she spotted someone she considered a “friend,” she would drag him or her to the center of the circle and they would dance together, until the “friend” managed to get away. At some point she became angry that there were no other ghosts around and just sat pouting on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Eventually, she, too, lay down on the floor and was carried away. At that point, everyone seemed to think it was time for bed (it was around 4 in the morning). When we awoke, there was a little chatter about what went on the previous night, but nothing to suggest that our party had been anything unusual. I returned home with a few villagers after lunch, and returned to class that afternoon. All the women who were temporarily possessed have gone back to normal, and their English language skills continue to improve. So all’s well that ends well, I suppose, and it was certainly one of the most interesting things I’ve been a part of since coming to Ampangan Woh.