CZA&STeS-'V (ujl. Mŕ.ňŕ- q Uts. H-e^''« 106 Inside the House ' different shapes and we find it surprising that they should fit together at all. Their stacking implies they are entities with clear boundaries between them but these boundaries simultaneously merge. The shapes of the dolls are different and yet their composition is not They are made of the same stuff, and this is the stuff of siblingship. It is this likeness of composition which enables houses, boats, rice, and people to be thought of both as things which contain each other and are different, and as things which are of the same order and somehow similar Siblingship is both about resemblance and identity and about difference Simultaneously individual and multiple, it is the process by which things start the same, multiple entities unified in one body, but become different and separate: bodies within bodies. 4 The Substance of Kinship and the Heat of the Hearth Metabolism [in Graeco-Islamic medicine] was understood as stepwise transformations of aliments into humors through a process analogous to cooking, utilizing the body's innate heat. Good and DelVecchio Good 1992: 263 At the end of the last chapter I described how the person is both individual and multiple. Each body is the container of a sibling set. The semangat of the person is part of a seven-member set which may in fact be likened to the parts of the body. The person also has a symbolic sibling placenta which is buried in the ground at birth. Persons and their bodies have a multiple identity and this is conceived in terms of the relation of siblingship. This chapter is concerned with relations between bodies and between persons. It is about fertility, conception, birth, growth, and death. Rather than give a full description of life-crisis rituals as such, I abstract some connections from a very rich discourse and many complex practices in order to elucidate the way relatedness is thought about. Underlying many of the themes which I discuss is a discourse about blood (darah) in which , many of the ideas are derived from Graeco-Islamic humoral theory (see "Laderman 1992). Blood is central to vitality itself, and to the connections ^between kin. Blood may be thought of as a potential child (Endicott 1970: 82). It is also, to a greater or lesser degree, what kin have in common, ^depending on how closely related they are. The blood of full siblings is thought to be the same. Although one is born with blood and this is a "source of connectedness between kin, blood changes through life—as does »kinship. '3. Blood itself is formed in the body from food cooked in the house hearth. 'It is continuously being formed, and also transformed, depending on »which house one lives in, and who one shares food with, on a day-to-day basis. This gives a further significance to the conversation with Aisyah 108 Inside the House which I recounted at the beginning of Chapter 1. Aisyah underlined how the house only becomes a proper house when its hearth is lit and food is cooked there. The process of cooking and eating in houses is at the heart of creating connectedness between kin. The hearth, and who one eats with, are as important in the formation of blood through life as the blood that one is born with, and which connects a child at birth to its siblings and other kin. I begin by discussing ideas about milk and incest, showing the connections between blood, food, and kinship. I show how siblingship, houses, and hearths are central to blood and to notions of relatedness. I go on to look at ideas about fertility and conception, circumcision, and death, showing how they are linked by the same underlying logic of ideas in which blood, food, and the hearth are central. The material presented in this chapter is mainly derived from conversations I had with several middle-aged and older women in the village including one midwife. Unlike the preceding chapters, it deals less with what people do, and more with how they talk about matters like birth, death, and relatedness. In other words, the material I present is not so much based on particular events which I could observe or participate in (and record here) but on the more abstract speculations of some villagers, which necessarily involves a more abstract discussion. Not everyone agrees about the matters discussed, or even knows much about them, although some people seem to enjoy speculating on these subjects. In places, I have recorded different viewpoints where they seem important. But I have also tried to demonstrate that there is an underlying coherence to ideas about relatedness. This coherence should not be taken' to imply an absolute fixity to ideas about kinship. On the contrary, I aim ^ to convey the processual nature and transformative potential of the kin-'ľ ship I describe. I have taken one further liberty with the material I present. Because of' \ the importance of blood as a source of vitality and fertility, and because: »' of its importance in ideas about bodily substance, as well as connectedness^ between kin, I have sometimes used the term 'substance', or 'shared4^ substance', when I might, more narrowly and literally, have referred,». to blood—especially blood which kin have in common. This usagcŕ seems to me in keeping with the force of the Malay ideas I describe'* although it perhaps glosses over some of their complexity. I argue that, siblingship, houses, and hearths are central to the way shared substance is'> conceived. í» The Substance of Kinship Feeding and Shared Substance 109 The feeding of milk to a baby from its mother's breast has powerful connotations.' This milk is believed to derive from the mother's blood. 'Blood becomes milk' (darah jadi susu). The mother's milk is immensely important to a child's physical and emotional development, and to the • child's connection with its mother. Children who are not breastfed become ill; they may also not 'recognize' their mother. , Milk-feeding defines the prime category of incest. Kin who have drunk milk from the breast of the same woman may not marry. If such kin of the opposite sex touch each other after the ritual ablutions which must be performed before prayer, the purificatory effect of these ablutions is not impaired (those concerned can still pray without bathing again). This is not the case when non-kin of the opposite sex come into contact with each other. Non-kin 'abolish the [purifying powers of J prayer water' (hatal air umbahyang); after physical contact, the ritual ablutions must be per-* formed before prayer. Marriage may only take place between those who ?annul the prayer water' in this way. Parents and children, grandparents ' and grandchildren, siblings, half-siblings, parents' siblings and their "nephews and nieces may not marry: they do not 'annul the prayer water'. .YThe connection between milk, prayer water, and incest is constantly '', emphasized by villagers. It is reiterated in many expressions and phrases: ''kin who drink the same milk don't annul prayer water' (adik-beradik, . kalau makan sama susu tak batal air sembahyang). ^ • These associations between milk-feeding, incest, and prayer water are > Islamic ones. However, they are given a further significance by the power ",'Of local notions of siblingship, and by the frequency of fostering. Those -who have drunk milk from the same woman are most often siblings. But Černány children spend a considerable part of their childhood in houses which are not their maternal ones. Formal and informal fostering arrange- " men t s substantially increase the possibility that a child may have drunk «the milk of a woman who is not her mother. It is this possibility which ogives such a definition of incest its particular fascination and horror. As several women with children made clear to me, it is quite easy to imagine Vchild being casually put on the breast of a neighbour or distant "kinswoman and later marrying her child. This ever-present threat looms ' For a discussion of wider anthropological issues raised by some of the material in this .dwpter see Carsten 1995a, and the Conclusion to this book. 110 Inside the House large in the minds of villagers, and runs through their discourse on incest. Women often described to me how in the past one might easily give a child a breast to comfort it, but that now this is not done. In such a case, if the children later married, the responsibility for incest would be borne by the feeding mother. Notions of incest thus refer to several discourses. 'If the prayer water is annulled, marriage is possible' (kalau batal air sembahyang boleh kahwin). This is a specifically Islamic prohibition which defines Malays and their notions of relatedness in terms of their Muslim faith. Simultaneously, reference is made to notions of kinship and shared bodily substance. What kin have in common in this context is given by their shared consumption of milk as babies. It is derived from their co-feeding, and this also makes reference to blood since human milk is believed to be produced from blood circulating in the body. Shared bodily substance is derived through shared feeding on milk. And this interpretation is in accordance with Islam. Further, shared blood is also, less directly, suggested by notions of how milk is produced. In these notions the blood that is shared through consumption of milk is not that of the father but only that of the mother or that of another woman. Shared blood is shared female substance. I would suggest that the categorization of incestuous relations in this way gains its salience and power precisely through its reference to a number of different themes. It combines a religious discourse, which is at the heart of notions of Malay identity, with ideas about feeding which are central to the house and identity in another way. The possibility of shared feeding actually creating shared blood not only underlines the importance of co-feeding and how this is linked to relatedness. In the context of widespread fostering arrangements of different kinds it implies that, in the absence of any other tie, co-feeding can create shared blood, shared substance, and kinship. People in Langkawi say, 'If you drink the same milk you become kin' (kalau makán sama susu, jadi adik-beradik). 'You become one blood, one flesh' (jadisatu darah, satu daging). This discussion about incest has a number of important implications because it also applies to feeding more generally. Blood itself is formed in the body from food. Of paramount importance, and in fact inseparable from food in general, is cooked rice. 'Blood, flesh come from cooked rice' (darah, daging maripada nasi), I was told. Eating rice and eating a meal are synonymous in Malay. Food is rice; rice is the defining component of a proper meal. The Substance of Kinship 111 i« Those who have blood in common are by definition kin: mothers and their children share blood in this way. Children are formed from the blood of their mothers. The feeding of milk from the same woman to children who are otherwise unconnected transforms them into kin. Thenceforward they have blood in common. I was told that it is 'because children drink the same milk' that they have 'the same blood' (pasal anak makan susu sama, darah sama). The blood in the mother's body divides in two to form milk. Milk is formed from blood which in turn is produced from food; milk also, as food, produces blood after it is consumed. Rice too produces blood. Those who don't eat rice become 'dry' (kering). 'All that remains is bones' (tinggal tulang sahaja). They have no blood. The sharing of rice meals cooked in the same hearth thus also implies shared substance if in a weaker sense. We might see a continuum between rice (food), milk, and blood. The sharing of any or all of these connotes having substance in common, being related. Traditionally, after being given the mother's breast a child was ritually fed cooked rice and banana because 'cooked rice becomes blood too' (nasi jadi darah juga). A baby's body is cold at birth. Breast milk, like blood, is hot; drinking it the baby is heated and after this it can consume rice. Just as relatives i are described in terms of a continuum—more or less distantly related—rather than being distinguished from the unrelated in a clear-cut way, we find a parallel in terms of substance and feeding. Mothers and their offspring, and full siblings, are most closely related through having blood in common. In fact the blood of siblings is identical. I was also told that when someone is ill and requires a blood transfusion they have to be given the blood of non-relatives rather than the blood of a sibling. In such cases it is necessary to change the blood. The blood of a sibling would have no effect because it is the same as that already in the body. More distant than full siblings but still close enough for marriage to be incestuous are those, like foster siblings, who have drunk the same milk. Those brought up in one house who have shared meals in common could technically marry; in fact they are very unlikely to do so. I would underline how this axis of relatedness (there are of course others) operates through women. Blood, milk, and rice meals derive from women. All of them denote commonality and similarity. 4»• * Banks (1983: 51-70) discusses Malay concepts of relatedness, and notes 'the common, i «instantia!, unity of the sibling group' (1983: 57). In a number of other respects, however, Our accounts are markedly different. See also Errington (1989: 221-2) on the shared substance of siblings and its implications for notions of relatedness. 112 Inside the House Blood, milk, and food are a source of physical strength but they arc more than this. It is because mothers are the source of shared substance that the emotional tie children have with their mother is thought to be particularly strong, and this was often reiterated to me. Shared substance gives emotions and words a special effectivity. Love for one's mother derives from being breastfed: 'Drinking milk from her body, you love a mother more' (makan susu badan, kasih ke ibu lagt).1 If a baby is given away, it should first be given its mother's milk. If it doesn't at least taste this milk it won't recognize its mother. A mother's curse has power, unlike that of a father: 'a mother's curse arrives' (sumpah mak sampat). Words and emotions gain power because children share blood with their mother. The mother's milk is thus the source both of shared substance and of the strong emotional bond between mother and child. It enables the child to recognize its mother. It is in this sense the enabling substance of kinship. If a mother dies before giving her child her milk the child should be given water cooked in the house hearth before it leaves the house. Water cooked in the natal hearth is the only possible substitute for the mother's milk. And this of course implies that the hearth too is a source of shared substance, of attachment to the house and its occupants. If milk and blood are the prime sources of shared substance it would follow that transfusions of blood might be problematic in terms of incest. When I asked about the implications of receiving blood during operations in hospital, villagers seemed rather perplexed and worried. Generally, they referred me to those experts whom they thought might have a solution to this problem. But their own creativity eventually supplied an answer in accord with the logic of local notions of kinship. I was told that blood which is donated does not carry the potentiality of incest because it is not eaten: 'it is not eaten, it is put there, added' (bukan makan, bubuh, tambuh). It would only be the eating of blood which could render relations potentially incestuous. These speculations 'at the margins' of normal occurrence—when a mother dies, when blood is given in transfusion—show very clearly that notions of shared substance, to which blood and milk are central, are also very much bound up with ideas about shared consumption, feeding, and the house hearth. 3 Karim (1992: 152) makes the same observation. The Substance of Kinship 113 Fertility and Conception Children are created from the seed (benih) of their father and the blood (darah) of their mother. Different people have slightly different accounts of how this comes about, and the relative importance of the maternal and paternal contributions. One woman put it to me like this: 'The blood of the mother becomes the child' (darah ibujadi anak). She continued rather dismissively, 'What blood is the father going to become?' [Pak nakjadi darah apa?) What she meant was that a father's blood has nothing to do with conception. And this is why most people say that 'A child is loved more by a mother than a father' (anak say ang lebih padá mak kepada pak). A midwife had a slightly different version: 'the blood of the mother and that of the placenta mix together with the seed' (darah mak, darah uri bercampur sekali). 'The seed becomes the blood of the child' (Benih jadi darah anak). But more blood comes from the mother. That of the father's seed is 'just at the beginning' (mula-mula sahaja). According to her, the child's bangsa, 'race' or 'descent',4 comes from its maternal ancestors because the child 'comes from our contents' (sebab mari kandungan kita); 'it comes from the mother' (mari dari ibu). Heredity (baka), in the sense of that which is inherited, comes from the father. Inheritance rights derive from the benih} Most people agree that bangsa is a quality to do with blood: 'it becomes one blood' (jadi se darah). Some say that blood and bangsa are quite simply the same. And that it is inherited in the maternal line. 'Our flesh and blood are on the side of the mother' (daging, darah kita sebelah ibu). But baka may be described as inherited either patrilineally or bilaterally. We might understand this as expressing the same ambivalence as those inheritance practices which operate according to both Islamic law, favouring the agnatic line, and adat, allowing equal inheritance for men and women. The father's seed comes from the fluid in the backbone (air tulang belakan). It is for this reason that men (and women too) are highly reluctant to receive injections at the base of the spinal cord when they are ill. Injections remove the liquid in the bone and weakness results, endangering their future fertility. t ,' 4 Wilkinson (1959: 81) glosses bangsa as '[r]ace; descent; family'. ' Banks's (1983: 67-9) account of reproductive processes gives more emphasis to the male contribution. In the version he records blood is divided into two components: the male contribution of benih, seed, and baka, the female contribution of blood which nourishes the seed 114 Inside the House The seed spends forty days inside the body of the father. The fust, 15th, and 30th days of the month are the 'days on which the seed falls' (hart jatult benih). If semen is not ejaculated, men become weak After ejaculation they regain their strength. The seed then 'descends to the mother' (turun ke ibu), where it mixes with the menstrual blood. It onl) has to mix with the blood of the mother once in order to conceive Both sex and conception are associated with heat and with blood. Once women are old, that is, after menopause, they 'have no blood' (dat ah lak ada), and they cannot conceive. I was told by a midwife that male infertility results from a lack of seed, for which there is no cure. It is not alteiablc But female infertility has to do with problems of the blood. During menstruation too 'the body is hot' (badán hangat). Afterwards it regains its normal temperature. If a woman's blood does not flow as it should in menstruation the 'blood is unhealthy' (darah sakit). It is dangerous for a woman of childbearing age not to get her period unless she is pregnant. The blood remains inside her and she becomes sick. If it flows normally or if it grows into a child then she is in good health. Ideas about menstrual pollution are not very elaborated in Langkawi. Women may not pray or have sex at this time, and may cause ill-fortune to a fishing trip. Elsewhere in Malaysia, Laderman (1983: 73) also notes that a scanty menstrual flow is not considered healthy, and that while sex during menstruation is religiously prohibited, it is also believed to restore potency to a man (ibid.: 74).6 Another middle-aged woman told me that infertility in women can be caused by 'a thing' (benda) in the uterus which 'eats the seed' (makan benih). It bores a hole in the uterus so that the blood is let out. Since it is the blood which 'grows the child' (membesar anak), the child cannot survive in its absence. The boring of this hole causes bad pains just before menstruation. Severe period pains are therefore associated with infertility. But these problems are potentially curable through the consumption of medicine and of proper food. Menstruation, sex, and pregnancy are times of body heating. For con- * ception to take place the 'body must be hot and healthy' (badan hangat,. sihat). 'The blood of menstruation becomes the child' (darah haidhjadi anak). Menstrual blood is thus a potential child, and a good flow is a sign If of fertility. I was told that women may continue to menstruate for several months during pregnancy, or even the whole pregnancy. But usually j|j * Siti Hasmah Ali (1979: 113) describes a concoction of heating spices (majkun), consumed post-childbirth in mainland Kedah 'to ensure good health and regular menstrual periods'. ><% The Substance of Kinship 115 pregnancy is counted to begin one month before periods first stop. Many women say that pregnancy can last between seven and twelve months. Most continue for nine to ten. f These ideas show the centrality of the mother's blood to conception and to the formation of the child. Blood, if it is healthy, is associated with bodily heat and fertility. It may also be associated with infertility and illness but, in such cases, blood can be transformed by consuming appropriate food. Childbirth The rituals of childbirth are elaborate and complex. They have also changed considerably during the lifetimes of many of the women I know. In some sense, these changes have involved a reduction in the elaboration of the rituals although, I would argue, their underlying logic has been maintained. The changes are partly a result of an increasing medicalization of childbirth promoted by the government, and also of the adoption of more orthodox Islamic practices which has occurred among Malays throughout Malaysia in response to national and international religious activism. I give only a partial account of childbirth rituals here, which both draws on published sources from elsewhere in Malaysia, and indicates what changes have taken place. Once again, my aim is to make explicit some of the meanings of the ideas and practices I describe.7 In the seventh month of pregnancy the services of the village midwife, bidan, are secured by the husband's mother, who is responsible for her payment. It is from the seventh month of pregnancy that it is believed that the foetus can sustain life. During the seventh month of a woman's first pregnancy the midwife performs a ritual 'bathing of the stomach' (mandi perut) of the pregnant |4 mother and a small feast (kenduri) is held. The bidan renders the water for ^bathing effective by reading verses from the Qur'än and uttering spells (jampi) over it. The pregnant woman, wearing a sarong belonging to her r husband, is bathed on the house ladder leading into the dapur." The f purpose of the ritual, according to the bidan, is 'to ensure an easy delivery' fc {untuk bagi dia senang beranak), and to 'ask for safety' (mintah selamai). In ' See Skeat (1900: 333-48); Laderman (1983: |JŠ Other detailed accounts. * Laderman (1983: 174-207); Wazir Jahan Karim (1984) for i refers to the cooling properties of this water. I was told that on HUpTtS of the mainland the woman is bathed together with her husband. 116 Inside the Home the past this was followed by another ritual, the 'cradling of the stomach' (tnelanggang peruť), which was not performed in Langkawi during my fieldwork. The purpose of this was to ensure the correct positioning of the foetus and an easy delivery. The post-partum rituals focus on the mother rather than the child; one aspect of them is particularly striking. This is the continued application of heat in various different ways to the mother after she has given birth, which I referred to in Chapter 2. Immediately after the birth, and for some days following, she bathes in hot water inside the house (normal bathing is done at the well with cold water).10 Throughout the 44-day period of post-childbirth prohibitions {panlang beranak), she must not consume 'cooling' foods." Older women told me how in former times, during this period, the mother was heated on a platform (gerai or salaian), beneath which a fireplace or hearth (dapur) was constructed by the midwife. Sand was placed beneath the gerai to catch any blood which might fall on the floor. At the beginning of this century, Skeat described how The fire (apt sakian) is always lighted by the Bidan, and must never be allowed to go out for the whole of the 44 days. To light it the Bidan should take a brand from the house-fire (apt dapor), and when it is once properly kindled, nothing must be cooked at it, or the child will suffer. (1900: 342 n. 2)12 This heating is no longer performed in Langkawi although many middle-aged women described to me how it had been done when they gave birth. The gerai was built in the kitchen (dapur) of the house. The fire underneath it was lit by the midwife from the cooking fire (dapur masak). Oil was rubbed into a woman's back and she leaned her back 9 See Skeat (1900: 332-3); Laderman (1983: 87-90); Karim (1984); Massard (1978) for descriptions of this. w Laderman (1983: 175) refers to 'hot' leaves added to this water. " The categorization of foods according to their intrinsic 'heating' and 'cooling' proper-tics is discussed at length by Laderman (1983: 35-72), and also by Massard (1983a: 262-8). Post-partum food restrictions are described in detail by Laderman (ibid.: 183-8). See also Frascr (1960: 194); Massard (1978). On the derivation of Malay ideas from Ayurvedic theories and Greek-Arabic humoralism see Laderman (1992). 12 Together with Laderman (1983: 181)1 would argue that use of the terms 'roasting' and 'roasting bed' (by Skeat, Wilkinson (1959: 1005), and others) for these practices is misleading, and 'heating' more appropriate. What is aimed at is a regaining of lost heat, through a more gentle warming than 'roasting' implies, i.e. a reassertion of the body's equilibrium not an objective rise in temperature; see also Massard 1978. For descriptions of similar procedures elsewhere in the region see Fräser (1960: 194); Hart, Rajadhon, and Coughlin (1965); Siegel (1969: 156-60). The Substance of Kinship 117 affí against the gerai so that she became properly heated from behind. Women say their 'body was cooked' (masak badatt), 'cooked inside' (masak didalam). Today women still apply a stone (batu tungku) which has been 'cooked in the hearth' (masak dalam dapur), and then wrapped in cloth, to their stomachs during this period.13 In the past, I was told, this heating was more strongly applied. The stone was used until the skin became blackened; women were more healthy, the prohibitions more strictly observed, hot medicines were used, cold food not eaten at all, the heated stone applied more frequently. According to the midwife, this 'shrinks the blood vessels of the stomach' (kecut urat perut), and those 'in the uterus' (dalam sarung anak). For the same reason the midwife massages a -woman on three successive days after giving birth.14 It is evident that the process of heating involved in the post-childbirth rituals is designed to counteract the cooling effect of giving birth. This cooling is particularly associated with excessive bleeding.15 Blood itself is regarded as 'hot'.16 Hot blood, lost in childbirth, leaves the body over-cooled so that it is dangerous to eat cooling things. We will see in Chapter 7 that marriage involves a process of heating and this may be counteracted by ritual means.17 In Langkawi, after a couple have slept together they may be described as 'cooked', whereas before they were 'raw'. Both the bidan and other women expressed their belief that, if the postpartum proscriptions were not observed, the mother would become sick. They feared that women would become afflicted with an illness known as saht meroyan.1* This disease means that the 'blood is cold' (darah sejuk), so that it cannot flow. The consumption of cold foods during the period of post-partum prohibitions leads to various kinds of sakit meroyan. These include 'skin disease' (kudis meroyan); 'meroyan madness' (gila meroyan); 'lockjaw' (sakit kancing gigi); 'fever' (demam); 'blood poisoning' (btsa); a disease in which 'the body goes hard and stiff like a plank, " See Skeat (1900: 343); Laderman (1983: 176); Gimlette (1971: 245). ■ " Karim (1992: 144) discusses how these measures are taken in order to restore a woman's beauty, vitality, and sexual performance. " Laderman (1983: 41) makes the same point. " Laderman (1983: 40). * " See also Banks (1983: 87), who mentions that nafiu, lust, is associated with heat. " Translated by Gimlette (1971: 167) as 'diseases after childbirth'. He states that meroyan is derived from royan, 'to run, or discharge, of a sore', particularly used for 'abnormal uterine discharges following childbirth'. He continues, 'the causal agent is referred to as angin meroyan (angin, wind)' (ibid.: 167). See also Laderman (1983: 98, 201-2). 118 Inside the House The Substance of Kinship 119 and you can't talk' (keras); 'bleeding'; and 'swelling of the blood vessels'. Although women talk of blood becoming cold, sakit meroyan is also sometimes described in terms of the body becoming 'overheated' (haiigat lebi/t) through the consumption of cold foods so that the blood vessels swell. Women in Langkawi also speak of 'wind' entering and 'rising' (naik angin) up the body." The 'blood will then rise', darah naik. Their principal fear is of bleeding, darah turun, and that the 'uterus should swell', sarong anak kembang, after childbirth. During pregnancy, women say, the uterus swells; after birth it becomes loose and there is a danger it may prolapse. However, during labour itself it is considered healthy to bleed a lot. If the blood of childbirth does not leave the body it becomes 'septic', 'poisoned' (biso). The blood of childbirth is 'dirty' (kotor), and should leave the mother's body so that her body becomes 'light' (ringan). The flow should then dry up, and the blood vessels of the uterus and stomach should 'shrink' (kecut). Meroyan, then, is a general sickness following childbirth which takes many forms. The village midwife told me that there are forty-four different kinds of sickness and their origin, in all cases, is from the blood. The 'blood is sick' (sakit darah). 'Meroyan comes from blood that isn't good' (nak jadi meroyan dari darah tak elok). Immediately after the birth the mother is fed by the midwife with three small lumps of nasi meroyan, rice which the midwife makes a spell over and which has been cooked in the hearth of the house. Instead of eating this, the mother mimics eating and it is thrown away onto the dapur of the gerat. According to the midwife, the nasi meroyan is for the meroyan, 'to prevent her coming'. It is thrown away so that she doesn't make the mother ill. Here the meroyan is likened to a malevolent spirit, hantu: it is 'a kind of spirit' (jenis hantu), and also 'a kind of blood' (jenis darah). 'Its origin is from a kind of blood' (asal dia pada jenis darah). 'We get ill, I hat blood becomes a spirit' (kita sakit, jadi hantu darah itu). This happens when the post-partum prohibitions are not followed. This seems to suggest a kind of internal possession in which the sick blood becomes a malevolent spirit. The midwife, however, went on to put things somewhat differently: the origin of meroyan is from us, from our blood. This blood which is not good 'descends back' (turun balik). A hantu is different, it is not inside us. " Sec Laderman (1983: 58-60) on angin, glossed as temperament. A build-up of angin in the body destroys the balance between the four elements, earth, air, fire, and water, and causes sickness. «?- Whereas meroyan is a 'sickness inside the body' (sakit dalam badan), a hantu is 'from outside' (dari lutir). Metal implements such as scissors, betel nut cutters, or a nail in the hair are taken to the well by women who have recently given birth to guard against spirits prone to attack women at this time. Such spirits want to eat women's blood. They cannot be seen, but after giving birth women are particularly vulnerable to them (see Endicott 1970: 62). Especially feared at this time is a vampire spirit of a woman who died in childbirth, Langsuir. This spirit has a hole in her back and very long hair which covers it. She lives in trees in the jungle and especially likes the Mood of women who have just given birth. She can take any form, animal or human, but often appears as a beautiful woman. She may be rendered harmless by plugging the hole in her back with a nail or other metal object; she is then immobilized so that she cannot fly. We have seen that both sex and pregnancy imply 'overheating'; at marriage and during pregnancy there is an attempt to keep cool. Excessive heating in this state leads to abortion, miscarriage, and infertility, perceived in terms of uncontrolled bleeding. In contrast, childbirth implies 'overcooling'; women have to be reheated and this process is closely associated with the hearth and with cooking fire. Excessive cooling at this stage leads once again to uncontrolled bleeding. It is implied that this too would cause infertility.2" The same nexus of ideas has been reported of Malays elsewhere. Massard (1980: 359; 1983a: 263) states that the absorption of heating food leads to a surplus of sexual energy. Too much heat, however, is likely to impair fertility and be dangerous to the foetus. Laderman (1983: 74) states that conception occurs when both parents are in a 'cool' state, and that 'hot' medicines can cause abortions and have contraceptive qualities (pp. 78, 79). The fetus is considered to be a clot of blood in the early stages, and hot medicine is thought to liquefy the blood, and to make the womb uncongenial for the child, (p. 78) i She states that 'hot' foods are avoided during pregnancy in order to w control bleeding (p. 82).21 ',, In Langkawi, the various interpretations of what may happen after ' giving birth suggest that sickness can be generated from within by, for fc I lowever, Laderman (1983: 176) states that heat is applied partly to prevent pregnancy in the near future. " See also Fräser (1960: 194). 120 Inside the House example, bad blood, or being too cold or too hot. It can also be caused by an external agent, for example a spirit, which, of course, penetrates the boundaries of the body in an illicit manner. In meroyan sickness it would seem that an overcooling or overheating of the mother, caused by the ingestion of cold foods or by wind entering the body, results either in the retention of bad blood, or in excessive bleeding. That which should not penetrate the boundaries of the body does so, and leads to either too little bleeding or too much: the excessive retention or loss of bodily substance. Both of these effects are equally possible and operate within the same cultural logic. In practice, the two effects are equivalent; as Lévi-Strauss has observed in a South American context, women are perpetually threatened—and the whole world with and through them—by the two possibilities . . .: their periodic rhythm could slow down and halt the flow of events, or it could accelerate and plunge the world into chaos. It is equally conceivable that women might cease to menstruate and bear children, or they might bleed continuously and give birth haphazardly. (1978: 506) As well as threatening the temporal order, both the symptoms of the meroyan sickness and its various causes can be read as a subtle speculation on bodily boundaries. The origins of the disease are in fact at once external and internal: childbirth itself; the ingestion of food; wind; blood that 'descends back' and becomes poisoned. The typical symptoms are as suggestive as their causes: lockjaw, skin disease, bleeding, fever: the body's boundaries seem to become either too permeable or too rigid. Meroyan sickness can be thought of as both like spirit possession and different from it. It is at once internal and external in causation and effect. Appropriately, after childbirth, when the body's boundaries have been dramatically penetrated to produce another body from within, normal health is restored through the reassertion of these boundaries. Sickness implies this has not been achieved. The body is either too closed or too open: it contains more substance than it should, or it loses too much. These ideas show once again the importance of 'healthy' blood to fertility and childbirth, and to the continued health of the mother. We have seen how the regulation of the flow of blood, as well as its correct heat, occurs through the dapur, which acts as a site and regulator of reproductivity in the house. Childbirth, perhaps not surprisingly, introduces another theme—that of bodily boundaries, and all of these ideas recur in notions about circumcision. The Substance of Kinship 121 Circumcision I will not discuss circumcision in detail except to Jink it with the themes under discussion.22 Writers on Malay ritual and kinship have, I believe, missed some of the significance of circumcision by comparing it with rites of initiation elsewhere rather than seeing it in its own context. Djamour (1965: 106-7) argued that it was difficult to see Malay male circumcision as a true rite of initiation since there is nothing that boys do after being circumcised that they did not already do before. In Langkawi this is far from being the case, but the manner in which circumcision is performed somewhat obscures its significance. It is very striking that there is no rigid sex segregation during circumcision and that women are present at every stage of the ritual. Boys are not secluded before the actual operation; after it, they are completely in the hands of older female kin for some days as they are nursed in the dapur and given the proper food which will enable them to recover quickly. In this way women strongly assert their control over the proceedings until the wound is healed. Young boys who have recently been circumcised are frequently rebuked for childish behaviour such as crying. I witnessed how a recently circumcised 9-year-old boy was strongly rebuked for appearing naked in the house after bathing when prior to this it would have met with a milder comment. He was reminded of his circumcision and of his duty to behave as an adult. Once circumcised, boys are particularly liable to shaming if they do not obey the rules of Malay propriety. Villagers readily explain that circumcision (masukjami) is a mark of the Muslim faith and is also carried out for reasons of cleanliness and hygiene. During my fieldwork male circumcision was performed when boys were aged about 10.1 was told that in the past it had been carried out much later than this, at around 18. This meant that it very shortly preceded marriage. There are a number of indications from people's comments that circumcision is in fact necessary for young men to marry and, specifically, to have sex with their wives. One old man told me that in the past when it was done at a later age, 'people didn't know shame' (orang tak tahu malu). Me I do not discuss female circumcision (clitoridotomy, incision of the clitoris) here. It takes place at the end of the period of post-childbirth taboos, and apparently is carried out with very little ceremony by the midwife, bidan. Informants tend to stress its insignificance as compared to male circumcision. I never saw this rite performed. Sec Laderman (1983: 206). 122 Inside the House said that in those days children would walk around naked until the age of 10. Young people were less 'clever' (cerdik); they didn't know about men and women. 'Now they already know those things by the time they're 10, so they must be circumcised earlier.' The implication is clear: sex in an uncircumcised state is unclean, and in this respect circumcision can be seen precisely as a rite of initiation.2 It is also significant that both today and in the past the performance of the ritual was closely associated with that of marriage. This association is explicit temporally—the occasion of a marriage is frequently also the time when a group of young boys are circumcised, and in this way the feasts occur together. There is a symbolic association too, in that the form of the circumcision ritual, especially in the past, strongly echoed elements of the marriage ritual. I was told how formerly, the night before the circumcision (and before a marriage), the boys would sit in state together (bersanding) in front of onlookers in exactly the same way as is done during the marriage ritual. If the circumcision was taking place at the house of the bride, the bersanding would involve the boys and the bride together. If it was at the house of the groom, or there was no wedding associated with the ritual, either one boy, or half of the boys to be circumcised, would be dressed as girls to 'take the place' of the bride. Sometimes the boys would have henna applied to their hands in the same way as a bride and groom. The following day they would be carried on a litter to the river to bathe before returning to be circumcised on a platform adjoining the house (pelantar or balai). Villagers liken this to the way a bride and groom were similaily transported to each other's houses as part of the wedding ritual. The bersanding, being carried on a litter, the application of henna, the boys' apparel, strongly recall for participants the central features of the marriage ritual.24 It is very striking that the food taboos imposed on boys after circumcision bear a strong resemblance to post-partum taboos. In both cases there í is a restriction on the intake of 'cold' foods,25 although in this case the -restrictions last only until the wound is healed. Cold food would lead to J swelling; angin, wind, may enter the wound preventing it from healing. _" 23 Wilder (1970: 222-8) makes this point even more emphatically; he notes that male * adulthood comes with marriage and the birth of children. 24 Skcat (1900: 361) refers to the boy being dressed 'like a bridegroom'. Wilkinson (1957: >i-' 49) describes how boys, like bridegrooms, are stained with henna. And he states (p. 75) that '•' in northern parts of the peninsula, circumcision is a preliminary to marriage. " See also Laderman (1983: 63), Massard (1978: 148) on the same point. !> The Substance of Kinship 123 Once again this is linked to a control of bleeding and concern that the wound should heal rapidly. Although several women pointed out that these taboos are less restrictive than the post-partum taboos, and those after childbirth seem to be taken more seriously, they nevertheless made a connection between the two states.26 Marriage, circumcision, and childbirth are all symbolically and ritually associated. In both childbirth and circumcision the regulated bleeding of both women and men is linked to their proper fertility and to the reproduction of the house. And in both cases this is assured through the action of women in preparing food and in controlling the heat of the dapur in which food is cooked. The dapur both equilibrates the heat of the body through the provision of food of appropriate heat, and controls the flow of blood leaving the body after circumcision and birth.27 The Substance of Death If life, blood, and fertility are associated with heat it is not at all surprising to find that death should be associated with coldness. But the apparent obviousness of this connection should not prevent us from trying to understand its meaning as fully as possible. In fact people in Langkawi make this association in an extremely emphatic way which suggests that its meaning is both more central and more complex than might be assumed. 'Death is really feeling cold' (mati, rasa sejuk sunggu) I was told. 'If there is heat, it's all right there's still life' (kalau hangat, tak apa ada lagi nyawa). Death is described as coldness and stiffness. In fact, a feeling of extreme coldness may be interpreted as a sign of imminent death. But there is more to it than this. 16 Wilkinson (1957: 49) describes a rite performed at circumcision, involving coconuts rolled over the boy, that strongly recalls that undergone by women in the seventh month of pregnancy. " See also Massard (1978: 148). Gimlette (1971: 49, 245) describes how the heat of the dapur is applied directly to the bukang root in the treatment of male loss of virility. That bodily heat may have political implications is suggested by Zainal Abidin bin Ahmad (1947) and Laderman (1981). The latter describes how the Malay ruler's coolness balances the destructive heat of war, anger, dissent, and nature which threaten the body politic. The sultan embodies coolness which ensures the prosperity of the kingdom. Laderman (1992) discusses how although Greek-Arabic medical theories associate heat with health and fertility, pre-Islamic aboriginal notions placed a positive value on coolness and associated it with health and fertility. Islamic humoralism was radically altered in its adoption by Malays. 124 Inside the House At the time of death the body loses all its blood. One older woman described how 'when someone dies, the soul leaves the body and all the blood flows out' (masa dia mati, cabut nyama, darah terbit). The blood leaves the body but humans cannot see this. Only the birds and the chickens see it. 'There is no blood at all in the body' (tak ada darah langsitng da/am badati). The dead become bones and empty blood vessels without flesh or blood. I was told that if a person dies in the house the blood from their body flows everywhere and becomes mixed with all the food in the house. 'Everything becomes soaked in blood' (darah basah apa-apa). It is for this reason that nothing which is in the house may be eaten. Neither food already cooked, nor raw products such as betel quids or water stored in the house can be consumed at this time. Most important of all, no food may be cooked in the house from the time immediately before a death until burial has taken place. Meals can be prepared on a fire made outside the house or in other houses and they must be consumed elsewhere. After the corpse has been buried according to Muslim rites, the floor of the house is washed and food can be eaten normally once again. Death, then, negates the life of the house and of its hearth. A house with death in it cannot simultaneously produce food and life. There is no cooking and no feeding. People sometimes make an association between houses and mosques at this time. It is forbidden to eat in a mosque. And this suggests that at death the house becomes more mosque-like, that is, it is removed from life in the world. Death involves the loss of the substance of life, blood. It negates the life-producing centre of the house, the hearth, which is the source of this substance, the place where the food which becomes blood is cooked. Violent death by accident or intention has other implications. Those who are seriously wounded in accidents and are bleeding copiously should not be given water to drink. Like women after childbirth and circumcised boys, they must not be given cooling drinks. The hot blood becomes hotter still, bleeding becomes more severe, and the body becomes weak. Alternatively, the heat of the blood mixes with the cool of the drink so that the blood clots in the body and the wounded person dies. Blood that falls on the ground should be buried in sand and then burnt. Otherwise it will 'clot' (beku), and attract malevolent spirits. I was told several stories of murder which make plain that the taking of life affects the murderer as dramatically as the victim. A murderer is said to become weak, powerless, and frightened; in this state he is liable to be caught. The only way to prevent this is to drink the blood of his victim, his The Substance of Kinship 125 life substance. By performing the act of a vampire spirit, he becomes 'like a spirit' (macam hantu). He thus endows himself with superhuman powers: the ability to appear and disappear at will and to evade his pursuers. In this way the killer becomes 'brave' (berani), and 'powerful' (kuasa). He has all the attributes of a spirit but he is human, as it were doubly alive, super-substanced.28 The murderer, then, is faced with two possibilities: he can be consumed by the victim's substance, or by consuming it, be empowered. But once again the notion of feeding is crucial. It is the act of feeding that confers power. The equation of murderers with vampires makes clear that this feeding is in every way negatively construed. Feeding on blood is the negation of feeding on rice cooked in the house hearth: it is death-dealing rather than life-giving; it negates human ties rather than producing them.29 Normal death and violent deaths both negate the blood of life and human ties. There is another kind of death which has more ambivalent associations. The death of the martyr has a special place in Islam. In Langkawi myth the quintessential local martyr is Mahsuri, a woman wrongly executed for adultery. In the version recounted to me, Mahsuri was a great beauty married to a local warrior. Her husband was called away to fight against the Siamese, and in his absence, she became friends with a destitute visiting stranger from Sumatra. Her mother-in-law, who resented her, accused her of adultery. Protesting her innocence, Mahsuri was stabbed to death in the chest with a keris (dagger). Before she died she asked God to prove her innocence by making her blood white and preventing it falling on the ground. As white blood gushed from her wounds, Mahsuri uttered a curse on Langkawi for the seven generations succeeding her death. These notions about the power of blood can be related to Endicott's discussion of the Malay concept of badi (Endicott 1970: 66-86). The badi can be thought of as a harmful expresFion of disturbed blood—it arises from the blood—and, in the case of a murdered person it is the badi which makes this blood especially potent (1970: 72). The badi can eventually become an independent spirit, which in the case of a murdered person is likely to be especially powerful and malicious (1970: 73; 74). In the case of a woman who dies in childbirth, it is the badi which reanimates her body as a vampire spirit (1970: 72). Endicott points out that vampires, familiar spirits, and badi all share an intimate connection with human blood. I am indebted to Robert McKinley for making these connections. Once again, I am indebted to Robert McKinley for the suggestion that the female vampire spirit, Langsuir, who attacks women after childbirth and herself died in childbirth, can be thought of as the spirit of'pure alienated kinship'. Her untimely death cuts off the normal process of feeding and making kinship between mother and child. The sucking of blood from her victims is the inversion of the social feeding that should have occurred had Langsuir not died in childbirth. 126 Inside the House This story has become famous throughout Malaysia. Mahsuri's grave is now a local shrine and a tourist attraction. Her death is often invoked in Langkawi to explain Siamese invasions, fire, crop failure, and widespread poverty that have historically occurred on the island. In 1989, with the government encouraging development and tourism, I was told that the seven generations had passed and the island was no longer cursed. But we can understand the myth in another way. I described above how a mother's milk is produced from blood. It is in fact a kind of blood. There are many varieties of blood, some more dilute than others. Blood alone, pure blood, is a very deep red; but other bloods may be less red. I was told that breast milk is a very dilute form of blood which is white; it has very little red blood in it. Elsewhere in the region, white blood is a sign of nobility and potency.30 White blood is also the proof of Mahsuri's innocence. It is the sign which vindicates her, and is proof of her potency and nobility. It is perhaps only slightly far-fetched to suggest that metaphorically, Mahsuri's white blood might also be likened to breast milk, symbolic of kinship itself. It is a sign that she herself has not negated her ties of kinship by adultery. The logic of this interpretation would suggest that, in her martyrdom, she has produced this substance of kinship and this is an incredibly potent force. Her white blood is so powerful it can destroy fertility and prosperity for seven generations. It gives her curse its potency, just as it is the mother's milk that renders a curse on her children effective. The substance of Mahsuri is super-charged: it is the curse on future kinship throughout the island. Hearths, Feeding, and Substance: The Process of Becoming Over the last four chapters I have described what goes on in houses in various different ways. I have analysed the physical structure of the house and shown how it is 'female', but that it also 'contains' the notion of siblingship. I have described the house as an expanded hearth and examined the most important activities that are engaged in there, particularly cooking and eating. The relationships that houses contain have been discussed: once again women and siblingship have been shown to be at the core of what houses are about. 30 Skeat (1900: 37) mentions that sultans are supposed to have white blood. In South Sulawesi white blood characterizes nobles, and is thought to be especially spiritually potent (Errington 1989: 19). It is also the invisible and potent blood of spirits (ibid.: 51). The Substance of Kinship 127 The present chapter has been an extended discussion of notions of substance. These notions are^both subtle and complex. At their heart are ideas about blood. Kin have blood in common. But the degree to which this is true varies. The most closely related are siblings and mothers and their children. These relations involve a high degree of shared substance. Other kin have blood in common too but to a lesser extent. The sharing of substance is not only a physical attribute. It has emotional qualities. And this is why the affective ties between a mother and her children and between siblings are held to be particularly strong. Ideas about blood, however, do not imply that substance is given at birth and remains ever after constant. In fact, substance, like blood, has a fluid quality. It is to a great extent acquired and changeable. Blood itself is not just something one is born with. It is continuously produced from food which is eaten. Of particular importance in this regard are maternal milk and rice meals. Milk itself is produced from blood and is a kind of blood. As a bodily substance it has a particular significance. First, it increases the degree of shared substance and the strength of emotions between mothers and their children and between siblings. But it does more than this. The consumption of the same milk can actually create shared substance between otherwise unrelated people. This would also be true of the consumption of blood. But the consumption of blood has highly negative connotations. It is performed only by vampires and murderers who thereby illicitly acquire the physical strength, the substance, of their victims, ensuring the latter's demise. Milk, then, may be understood as the enabling substance of kinship: a source of emotional and physical connectedness. But once again this is not the end of the story. To a lesser degree, food cooked on the natal hearth has the same qualities. A tiny infant may be given water cooked in the dapur as a substitute for its mother's milk. Food becomes blood. And through the day-to-day sharing of meals cooked in the same hearth, those who live together in one house come to have substance in common. Eating meals in other houses has negative implications. As we saw in Chapter 1, children are strongly discouraged from doing so. These ideas have a particular salience when people do in fact often move to different houses. Divorce, and temporary or more permanent fostering, lend an enormous force to the idea that living and eating together is one way of coming to have substance in common. Thus the idea that milk-feeding creates the potential for incest is a very real threat in the minds of people in Langkawi. But it has a further significance in the 128 Inside the House historical context of great demographic mobility which I will describe in Chapter 9. Feeding is one way in which strangers and outsiders can become incorporated into a village community. Being fed, such strangers become, in a weak way, related. More permanent fostering arrangements and marriage are stronger modes of incorporation. All these are ways in which unrelated people may come to share substance. There are other important implications to the notions I have described. The long process of becoming, acquiring substance, is one that to a very great degree occurs through the actions and bodies of women. Children are produced from the blood of their mothers; their mothers' milk may activate or create kinship. The food cooked in the hearth by women not only nourishes physically, it is central to the process of becoming related. Houses and their hearths are the sites of the production of kinship, women are the major producers. Substance is both given and acquired; women are essential to this process. Aisyah's instruction for the establishment of a new house, wil h which I began Chapter 1, now takes on a fuller meaning. In that conversation, Aisyah underlined how a new house is only established when its hearth is lit and food is cooked there, and that mothers provide their daughters with the means to do this. The processes that are set in motion in this way are in every way life-giving. They give life both to the house and to the people that live there; each reproduces the other. The dapur is the place where food is cooked. It is also the heat of the dapur which regulates more directly the heat of women's bodies at childbirth, and to a lesser extent those of men after circumcision, ensuring their future fertility." The heat of the hearth symbolically controls the reproduction of humans and houses. It is also, of course, the place where raw food is transformed into edible substance which later becomes bodily substance The dapur produces blood and regulates its flow, thereby ensuring reproduction. In the second part of this book I show that the transformative process which occurs in the hearth has a wider symbolic significance. Things which come into the house from the outside and which are symbolically opposed to houses may be converted there, and rendered edible. The dapur is the transforming centre of the house; it produces life. " It may be significant that soot from the house hearth is used to protect children on excursions away from their own home. Women often dab soot from the dapur onto the forehead of a small baby or child when taking them out of the house to visit oth( r villagers. The Substance of Kinship 129 Houses, Bodies, and Boundaries These chapters have had another theme: the notion of boundary. In Chapter 11 described how the house can be seen as a dapur within a dapur within a dapur. The cooking stove, kitchen, and living area of the house are all given by the same term: houses are expanded hearths. The house spirit, who may be said to embody the house, is herself one of seven siblings, although only one of these is active, and the degree to which these siblings have separate identities is ambiguous. These same ideas are echoed in notions of the person. Each person is part of a sibling set. And these ties are conceived as being more or less unbreakable. The identity of an individual is always bound up with that of their siblings. This is underlined in notions of symbolic siblingship. The younger sibling placenta reflects and influences the fate of the older sibling child. The semangat, 'soul', or 'vital force', of the person, like that of the house, is one of seven siblings. Once again the exact status of the different members of this set is unclear. The set is both one and seven. One might say that persons and houses are simultaneously individual and multiple. They always contain the possibility of being either. And in just the same way a human sibling set has both a single and a multiple identity. Growing up in one house, it will eventually come to be embodied in different houses. These ideas suggest a very subtle and complex speculation on ideas about boundaries. Where does one house end and another begin? Where does one person end and another begin? We are confronted with the possibility of boundedness only to see it recede before us. Sickness and health reveal the same concerns. Disease may have internal or external causation. In fact it may itself reveal a fascination with notions of internality and externality and their interrelationship. After childbirth, when one body has literally produced another from within, these ideas become explicit. The permeability of the body's surfaces at this time is especially problematic. The mother's body has opened up to let out that of the child inside. In order to restore her to her normal medium state of semi-permeability her boundaries must be reasserted. There is always the danger that she remain too open and lose her bodily substance, or become too closed, retaining too much substance and becoming poisoned. Bodies are simultaneously bounded and porous. It is hard to say where 130 Inside the House one person stops and another begins. The person contains within herself the core of relatedness which is siblingship. What is true for persons is also true for houses and in exactly the same way. In Chapter 1 we saw that the house is envisaged as a body. It is also clear that the body is in another way a house, containing other bodies.32 Like bodies, houses are simultaneously bounded and porous. They have a single and multiple identity which again is envisaged in terms of siblingship. In the second part of this book I show why the boundaries of the house are always problematic. And how it is that the village can be seen simultaneously as an expanded house and as a collection of different houses. One way of thinking about these ideas is in terms of boundaries. But in another way they also express a concern with notions of similarity and difference: where one thing stops being the same and becomes something else. It is in terms of an endless speculation on similarity and difference that local perceptions of kinship are worked out. But to understand the significance of difference we have to step out of the house and deal with the outside world. 12 This idea has been explored by Headley for Java. He describes how the Javanese treat their bodies and their kingdoms as houses, and how the body 'physically houses siblings during gestation' (1987a: 143).