29.
The Shamanin Performs a Public Service with Grace and Energy
British anthropologist Verrier Elwin lived among the Saora people of India. He described the prominent role of their female shamans, whom he called “shamanin,” in particular in treating the sick.
Every shamanin is called to her sacred duties at about the time of puberty as a result of a remarkable dream-experience (which is paralleled in the experience of the shamans) which results in her “marriage” to a tutelary from the Under World. This spiritual marriage is not generally a bar to marriage on earth . . . for the Saoras have no special belief in the magical efficacy of chastity, and the girl usually marries a human husband after a few years. But her dream-lord seems to be equally real to her; to hear a shamanin talking, it is not always easy to say which of her two husbands means more to her.
This experience may follow or precede some formal training in divination. Sometimes a girl whose family has had no previous association may be called to it in a dream and the dream-husband himself may teach her the art. More commonly a girl belongs to a family where the shamanin tradition already exists; the mother or, as so often, the father’s sister is a shamanin and begins to prepare the little girl from an early age for her future life. The dream-experiences, therefore, are not unexpected (though the convention is to regard them as a great surprise) and this is why they follow a regular pattern, conditioned by the mythology and the social tradition.
The dream which forces a girl into her profession and seals it with supernatural approval takes the form of visits of a suitor from the Under World who proposes marriage with all its ecstatic and numinous consequences. This “husband” is a Hindu, well-dressed and handsome, wealthy, and observant of many customs to which the Saoras are strangers. He comes, according to tradition, in the depth of night; when he enters the room the whole household is laid under a spell and sleeps like the dead.
In nearly every case, the girl at first refuses, for the profession of shamanin is both arduous and beset with dangers. The result is that she begins to be plagued with nightmares: her divine lover carries her to the Under World or threatens her with a fall from a great height. She generally falls ill; she may even be out of her wits for a time, and wanders pathetically dishevelled in the fields and woods. The family then takes a hand. Since in most cases the girl has been having training for some time, everyone knows what she is in for, and even if she herself does not tell her parents what is happening they usually have a shrewd idea. But the proper thing is for the girl herself to confess to her parents that she has been “called,” that she has refused, and that she is now in danger. This immediately relieves her own mind of its burden of guilt and sets the parents free to act. They at once arrange the girl’s marriage with her tutelary. . . .
After the marriage, the shamanin’s spirit-husband visits her regularly and lies with her till dawn. He may even take her away into the jungle for days at a time, feeding her there on palm wine. In due course a child is born and the ghostly father brings it every night to be nursed by the girl. But the relationship is not primarily a sexual one; the important thing is that the tutelary husband should inspire and instruct his young wife in her dreams, and when she goes to perform her sacred duties he sits by her and tells her what to do.
At first a girl sits with other shamanins until she is thoroughly adept and experienced, for this is a profession where mistakes may lead to tragic consequences. When she is completely ready the young shamanin starts her own practice and she will soon be in as great a demand as any of the others. . . .
It is in the treatment of the sick that a shamanin finds her greatest scope and fulfillment. Her methods of diagnosis and cure are varied and ingenious; she uses the fan and the lamp, the bow and the sword, handfuls of rice and pots of wine. Now she dances in ecstasy, now lies lost to the world in trance. When she has found the cause of disease or tragedy, she is at infinite pains to heal the wounds; she sucks infection from her patient’s body, burns it with flashes of gunpowder, bites and kisses it, massages it to expel the evil, orders the sacrifice of goat or buffalo, directs the village artist in the composition of sacred pictures flattering to the spirits, dedicates pots, speaks healing and consoling words. She works ceaselessly, for she is inspired not only by pride in her profession, but also by her love for the tribal community she serves. . . .
Women have a high and honoured place in Saora society. Protected by their innocence and their fidelity, they move freely about their lovely hills; gay and happy, their laughter and their singing echoes at all hours among the palms. They have an important role alike in festivity and funeral; their voice is not unheard in tribal and village affairs; they can more than hold their own with their men. It would be hard to find women more industrious; they toil laboriously in terraced field and remote swidden, and when they return home the work of the spinning-wheel or the kitchen fills what might well be hours of leisure. But this is not mere drudgery; because they are free and self-reliant, respected and loved by their menfolk, adored by their children, their life is full, interesting and satisfying.
To this happy state of affairs the institution of the shamanin has made its contribution. For here is a body of women dedicated to the public service and fulfilling that dedication with grace and energy. Here are women, believed to be vitally in touch with supernatural affairs, on whom one can rely, women who respond to the needs of the sick and anxious with professional thoroughness and affectionate concern. For the shamanin really cares about her patients.
The shamanin is indeed an impressive and honorable figure. She lives a dedicated life on the boundary between this life and the next. A young girl like Sondan of Bungding had the absorbed look of the idealist and dreamer; she knew herself to be someone apart; she must not enter too much into the ordinary business of life or be stained by vulgar contacts; quiet, dignified, efficient, she made one think of a world of values foreign to this. The mysterious other-world “below” was already more real to her almost maiden imagination than the coarse realities of earth. And even bustling business-like efficient little Amiya, who was a thoroughly “this-world” type, did by her obstinate and lifelong refusal to seek carnal pleasure in the world of temptation that enveloped her, establish the priority of spiritual things. The dedication, the sacrifice, the tutelary came first.
To the sick and lonely, the shamanin is the nurse and friend, the guide, the analyst. To the stranger’s eye, she may be just one more dirty old village woman; but to the Saora whose life is broken by tragedy, she may well be an angel of strength and consolation.