Chapter I

Maryam could hear the drums thudding from across her village while she did the dinner dishes and knew soon enough that the chanting would begin. The patient in this exorcism, a woman of a certain age named Jamillah, worked in the main market near Maryam’s stall, which is why there was a bond between them, of neighbours and businesswomen, though they were not close friends.

Jamillah was suffering from a variety of complaints, none of them serious on their own, but debilitating when put together. She was tired, she was occasionally vague and pessimistic, her arms ached and sometimes her back hurt. She was no longer the energetic and commanding mak cik she had been; several times Maryam noticed her stall had stayed boarded up during the business day, behaviour unbecoming any Kelantanese market woman.

Her grown children worriedly intervened, calling in a bomoh, a healer, to diagnose her illness, and – it was devoutly hoped – to cure it. He concluded, after due examination, that Jamillah was possessed by spirits who yearned to be understood and propitiated, and he wasted no time in arranging for a main puteri, Princess Play, an exorcism which would allow him to speak to the spirits involved, learn what they needed and then provide it, thereby freeing Jamillah from the lassitude enveloping her.

The drumming signalled the start of the ceremony, and the brushed and flattened dirt in the front yard of her house was becoming crowded with neighbours and family who travelled to show their support and concern. Jamilllah slumped spinelessly in the lap of her older brother, who struggled to keep her upright, while other relations sat next to him, sponging her face and encouraging her to take notice of the ceremony around her.

Her husband was nearby, staring dreamily at the ground while emphatically not taking part in the group hug going on nearby. However, from the gimlet looks he received from his two daughters, it did not seem likely he would continue in his isolation. In the general uproar, Jamillah was clearly the centre of attention and, just as clearly, he was not.

By the time Maryam and her husband Mamat ambled across Kampong Penambang, the bomoh had gone into trance and was in the possession of a princess spirit. In this state, he engaged in spirited repartee with one of his troupe to the amusement of the assembled crowd.

The ceremony combined healing and exorcism with general entertainment, and since the bomoh’s research into the case provided him with a wealth of information about kampong gossip, the spirits themselves were able to comment pointedly on local affairs.

Maryam took a seat among the women, next to her cousin Rubiah, while Mamat wandered among the men smoking cigarettes and buying each other cups of coffee from an enterprising barista who had set up shop on the periphery of the performance.

Suddenly, Jamillah sat up straight, brushing off the hands of her relatives, raising her head high, her eyes flashing and alive, her expression imperious. She ordered the bomoh to account for himself in a voice not her own, and he bowed and scraped before her, offering a brief explanation of the problem as he saw it. In the background, the music continued, the drums joined by a flute and a fiddle.

Jamillah, laid low by aches, pains and exhaustion, barely able to keep her eyes open moments ago, now rose and danced in the traditional manner: fluid, graceful, full of energy and skill. Her daughters gasped, though they expected it as part of the main puteri. But seeing their mother move like a young dancer – confident, commanding – was astonishing, like seeing this most familiar of figures as a stranger.

The bomoh danced as her opposite, encouraging her first in this direction and then that, drawing her out in conversation. She gave her name as Mayang Puteh, a female spirit, and explained why she had invaded the body of Jamillah: to help her, to cure her, to encourage her spirit and life force, which was slowly draining away as Jamillah suffered, oppressed by evil, unable to rid herself of invasive spirits. She, Mayang Puteh, summoned by the entranced bomoh himself, would bolster Jamillah’s flagging spirit, and drag her, if necessary, back to health. So she announced, as she glided effortlessly around the open space.

The appreciative murmurs of the crowd did not seem to please her husband, now being prodded by his son to smile and nod. His sulkiness was noted by Jamillah’s family, all of whom had heard about his recent lack of interest in her and her fear that he had turned his attentions to a younger woman. If that were the case, an accusation he strenuously denied, and for which even Jamillah could find no real evidence, then certainly he had not seen his wife as active and commanding as she was right now, the centre of attention and deservedly so. His children hoped this might change his perspective: his son encouraged him mightily to notice Jamillah and to admire her. The father smiled thinly, and nodded distractedly, watching his wife dance as she never had before.

The ceremony continued until nearly dawn – trance interspersed with comedy, dancing, singing and chanting, and Jamillah was the star. At the end, Mayang Puteh left Jamillah exhausted but exhilarated, cured of her symptoms, and buoyed by the Princess Play. Smiling, Jamillah staggered to her bed, from which she never rose again.