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University of Pittsburgh- Of the Commonwealth System of Higher Education
The Menstrual Hut and the Witch's Lair in Two Eastern Indonesian Societies
Author(s): Janet Hoskins
Source:
Ethnology,
Vol. 41, No. 4, Special Issue: Blood Mysteries: Beyond Menstruation as
Pollution (Autumn, 2002), pp. 317-333
Published by: University of Pittsburgh- Of the Commonwealth System of Higher Education
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4153011 .
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THE MENSTRUAL
HUT AND THE WITCH'S LAIR
IN TWO EASTERN
INDONESIAN
SOCIETIES
Janet Hoskins
University
of Southern
California
Menstrual huts are associated with
ideas of pollution, misogyny,
and intersexual
tension
in the literature,
but in Huaulu,
Seram,
I found
an ambivalently
charged
but not
necessarily negative
view of female
bodies.
In
contrast,
the Kodi
of Sumba do not seclude
women during
menstruation but do link menstrual contamination
to venereal
disease,
herbalism,
and
witchcraft.
Keeping
menstruation
secret
expresses
anxieties about
bodily
integrity
that show a greater
separation
of male and female
worlds than
the
public-health
approach
of the
menstrual
hut. (Menstrual
huts,
sexual
politics, reproduction,
witchcraft,
pollution)
The
anthropological
literature on
gender
relations
in Pacific
Asia
has
tended
to group
ideas of menstrual
pollution
with sexual
antagonism
and the use of poisons and
witchcraft
by women against
men in Melanesia,
while the apparent
absence
of
menstrual
taboos, complementary
or relatively
unmarked
gender
relations,
and
harmonious
households are connected with Indonesia and
Polynesia.
Since hiding
menstruation from men and
playing
down its role in public
correspond
to Euro-
American
practices,
this attitude
has
come to be seen as a reasonable
norm,
and an
emphasis
on menstruation as a deviant
expression
of intersexual
conflict.
My field experiences
in two Indonesian
societies, however,
have
led me to find
this conclusion
unsatisfactory.
The Huaulu
of Seram have extremely
stringent
menstrual
taboos,
and
as a woman
among
them,
I was required
to comply
strictly.'
I spent
five to six days each month in a menstrual hut on the edge of the village,
refrained from
eating
big game,
and
bathed at a special
fountain
which
was
forbidden
to men. But rather
than showing
animosity
toward
men, the other menstruating
women
indicated a wish to protect
them
and
spare
them
from harm.
Huaulu
women
were proud
of the fact that
they controlled
a dangerous
flow of blood, and
they
emphasized
its creative and
empowering aspects.
In contrast,
the Kodi women of the coastal
villages
of Sumba,
with
whom
I had
lived for
three
years
before
coming
to Huaulu,
kept
their
menstrual
cycles
secret,
and
(in the absence of tampons
and
toilets)
instructed
me on surreptitious
techniques
of
doing
so even when
clothing
was washed
in mixed
company
at the river.
It was in
this society, however,
that menstruation found its way into the witch's lair: the
appearance
of the menstrual flow and
its believed relation
to fertility,
abortion,
and
venereal
disease
are all part
of an
occult realm
of natural medicines that
only
women
can
control. The term
for
these
medicines,
moro,
has the literal
meaning
of the
color
blue or green, and
raw, uncooked,
or unprocessed.
Moro
is also the term
used
to
describe
deep saturations
of indigo
dye on cloth. "Blue medicines" are part
of a
tradition
of herbalism,
midwifery,
and
witchcraft
which concerns
learning
about roots
and
plants
to keep
the dyes in cloth
from
running,
and
also to control
bleeding
in
317
ETHNOLOGY
vol. 41 no. 4, Fall
2002,
pp. 317-33.
ETHNOLOGY,
c/o Department
of Anthropology,The
University
of Pittsburgh,
Pittsburgh
PA 15260 USA
Copyrighto
2002 The
University
of Pittsburgh.
All rights
reserved.
318 ETHNOLOGY
women-after childbirth,
following
a village
abortion,
or hemorrhage interpreted
as
caused
by violations of taboos on incest
or adultery.
Men are excluded
from the
knowledge
of when
their wives are
fertile,
are often
not
told
when
they
are
pregnant
until
fairly
late
in the pregnancy,
and
may
be tricked
into
sex acts that are
believed
to make
them infertile
and impotent.
Female
herbalists
and midwives
(tou tangu
moro)
compare
the menstrual flow to the dyes fermenting
in the indigo
pot, and
certain
roots and
barks are
used both
to control
the
bleeding
of colors
in textiles
and
to control the bleeding
of women's
bodies.
Deception
concerning bodily
fluids and
their
uses is paramount
in Kodi, while
in Huaulu
every
woman's menstrual
cycle is public
knowledge
and even part
of a
concerted
campaign
to keep the village clean. These contrasts
suggest
rethinking
some of the familiar
anthropological
oppositions
between
ideas of pollution
and
female
purity,
sexual
antagonism,
and
sexual
co-operation.
Perhaps
the apparently
"polluting"
women
are
really
protecting
their
menfolk and
co-operating
with them
to maintain the health and reproductive
success of the group, while the women
menstruating
in secret are
scheming
to undermine
male
authority
through
clandestine
spells, medicines,
and
poisons.
THE
HUAULU OF SERAM,
THE
MOLUCCAS
The
case of the
Huaulu,
who numbered
165 in 1985,
appears
to be a classic one
of menstruation
as pollution.
Living
in a mountaintop village in the rainforests of
Seram,
the Huaulu
are
hunters
and
gatherers
of wild animals
and wild foods
who also
occasionally
plant
and
harvest
the
products
of trees like
sago
and banana. For
the
last
three
decades,
they have
formed an enclave
of defiant
religious
traditionalists
in an
area
otherwise
divided
between
Christian and
Muslim
villages, and have recently
been torn
by armed
confrontations
between these
two
religious groups.
There are
two
menstrual
huts
at the mountain
village,
one
behind
each row
of houses,
and another
at the coastal
settlement
where
some
Huaulu
children
go to elementary
school.
The menstrual
hut in which
I stayed
in 1985
was, like other
Huaulu
houses,
a
pile construction of sago
wood with
sago
leaf
thatch. It sat
just
below the
edge
of the
village, but there
were no windows
open to that direction,
and its doorway
and
veranda
faced
the forest.
At any
given
time
there
might
be from one
to six women
staying
there,
often
with young boys and
girls and
nonmenstruating
female friends.
The menstrual hut
is most
crowded
when a woman is about
to give birth
or nursing
a newborn
inside,
when several
dozen
women
and children
may gather
inside and
around
it. Women are
separated
from
the
village during
their
menstrual
periods,
but
they are not secluded or confined:
they are
free to wander
through
the forest (as long
as they avoid male hunting
pathways), to gather shrimp at a particular
place in the
river, and to collect nuts and bananas. They are not allowed to cook for their
husbands during this period or to carry heavy loads of water and firewood to the
houses in the village. They do sometimes occupy their time with plaiting mats or
THE
MENSTRUAL HUT
AND THE
WITCH'S
LAIR 319
rolling
twine,
and
they
can
play
musical
instruments,
tell long
stories to each
other,
and
escape
the drudgery
of normal
household
work.
All Huaulu children are
born
in the menstrual
hut,
and
many young
boys spend
much of their
childhood
playing
alongside
their mothers
in
the
huts and
even
sleeping
there until
they
reach
puberty.
Adult
men,
however,
must
remain
at a distance
from
the huts,
never touch
them,
and
never
look inside the windows
that
face the forest.
The menstrual
space
excludes men under
the risk of death,
and must
be built
and
repaired
by women
alone.
One
woman,
named
Alimau
(Tigress),
was the most
frequent
inhabitant
of one
of the menstrual huts in the Huaulu
village, since she had never been pregnant.
Because of the phenomenon
of menstrual
synchrony,
she was usually accompanied
by two close friends
whose cycles tended to correspond
with her own. By the late
1980s,
she had
adopted
a son, who usually
came there
with
her, and she turned
the
social stigma
of her infertility
into a strategy
to achieve a leadership
role in the
village.
She used
the
captive
audience
of young
women
in
the
menstrual huts
to share
her
knowledge
of myths
and
stories
(roromuem),
and
managed
to attract
large
crowds
to listen to "the
tales of the
Tigress "-excluding, however,
the
male shaman
leaders.
She used the menstrual hut as a stage on which to display her skill in verbal
performance,
and
because of the reputation
established
there,
she also came to be
respected
by many
male
ritual
specialists.
Alimau,
like
many
other Huaulu
women,
spent
longer
in the menstrual
hut than
the four to five days that
high-school
hygiene
lessons
say the menstrual
period
is
supposed
to last. Were
they
simply
being
extra
cautious,
not
wanting
even
a drop
of
menstrual blood
to fall in the houses
they
shared with
men? Or were
they
using
the
excuse of menstruation to get more
time off and listen
to stories
and
songs
without
worrying
about
cooking
and
cleaning?
Huaulu
men often
speculated
about
this, as
Valeri
(2001:199)
records:
Men fear
the pollution
of menstrual blood
much
more than women
do. ... [Women]
are accused
of
taking
advantage
of the rule of menstrual
segregation
by faking
their menses
or
pretending
that
they
last
longer
than
they
actually
do. In
this
way they
are
able to escape
their
obligations
towards their husbands
and
family. Undoubtedly
women
enjoy
their
vacation in
the
menstrual
hut.
Observing
this,
and the
rage
of many
a man when hearing
the laughter
that
occasionally
comes from
the happy
women
in the
menstrual
huts, one is even tempted
to speculate
that the custom
of menstrual
segregation
is a
particularly sly female
invention.
But even if this were
true,
one
would still have
to
presuppose
the male
fears that
put
menstruating
women so effectively beyond
men's
reach,
and thus
a male
contribution to
the custom.
When asked
if they
exaggerated
the amount of time
they
menstruated
in order to
spend
more
time
in
the
menstrual
hut,
the women denied
it. They
said
they
could
feel
a menstrual
period
coming
("the
belly
feels
heavy")
and
they
came
early
to be certain
that
they
would
not
contaminate the
village.
It is also true that
they
sometimes
stayed
for some
days
after the flow had
stopped,
once
again wanting,
they
said, to be sure
that it would
be safe
for them
to return.
Then,
the woman must
bathe at a spring
and
enter
her home
through
the back
door. A woman must
spend
the first night
after
320 ETHNOLOGY
returning
from the
menstrual hut
in the
kitchen
of the
village
temple
(luma
poto, big
house)
and
only
then can she return
to sharing
a mat
with her
husband.
No woman ever told
me that
she faked or extended
her
menstrual
periods
to get
extra leisure
time,
and
all of them
stressed that
they
followed
the
taboos
because
they
wanted their
husbands,
fathers,
and
brothers to be good
hunters and
good
lovers,
and
they
realized that
contact
with
menstrual blood
could
harm them.
Male shamans
did
occasionally
come near the menstrual hut if, for instance,
a woman
was having
difficulty
in giving
birth or in expelling
the
placenta.
In one difficult
childbirth
that
I witnessed,
the
woman's
husband
passed
medications
through
the
window
to her
to
help
open
up
the birth
canal,
and
performed
a series of songs
dedicated
to the spirits
in a seance
in the village.
THE
KODI
OF SUMBA,
LESSER
SUNDA
ISLANDS
The
use of male
healers to treat
female
reproductive problems
was at odds
with
my experience
in Kodi,
where
women
were dedicated to policing
their
own health
and fertility,
and would not allow men to treat them
for reproductive
problems.
There are now over
70,000 Kodi
speakers
in villages
along
the west coast
of Sumba
Island.
Kodi
women
tend
pigs and
chickens,
while
Kodi men herd horses
and water
buffalo.
Both sexes work in dry gardens
of rice, corn, and
tubers,
where
food is
much more
available than for Huaulu
hunters,
but more
work
is required
to produce
it. As a semiagricultural
people
with
a well-developed
tradition
of textile
production,
Kodi women
are often
accomplished
weavers
and
dyers
of ikat
cloths,
which can
give
them a considerable
cash
income
independent
of their husbands.
The fermentation
of
indigo
dye is part
of a secret
complex
of female "blue arts"
(moro)
from which
men
are
strictly
excluded2:
no man
can
approach
the indigo dye pot, or touch
it, or
bring
meat into
close
range
while
threads are
being
dyed.
While the
dyeing
hut would
seem
to offer
close
parallels
with
the
Huaulu
menstrual
hut,
the
taboos
associated
with the
indigo
dyeing
hut
specifically
exclude
most women
of reproductive age.
Women who
are
menstruating
are
not allowed to come near
indigo dye
because it is believed that
their
menstrual blood is "aggressive"
and could
destroy
the
dyes
in the
pot. Pregnant
women are not allowed for the opposite
reason: the contents
of their wombs
are
believed to be vulnerable
to contamination
from
indigo,
and
if they came
near,
the
fetus
they carried
would
dissolve and
be aborted.
A pregnant
woman
who unexpectedly
finds
herself
near an indigo
dyeing
shack
can
pray
to the
spirit
of the shack
(mori
kareke
nggilingo)
to spare
the contents
of her
womb. She
addresses this
spirit
as "the
foreign
woman,
the Savunese
woman"
(minye
dawa, minye
haghu),
the ancestress from a neighboring
island who first brought
indigo
dyeing
to Sumba. She promises
not to venture into
the area
again,
and she
agrees
to sacrifice a chicken. If all this is done correctly,
her child may be born
safely. A menstruating
woman
cannot, however,
do anything
to keep
her
menstrual
blood from spoiling the dye pot; the polluting
contact
is not subject
to ritual
THE
MENSTRUAL
HUT AND THE
WITCH'S
LAIR 321
mediation.
While
indigo
is "women's
secret,"
metal-smelting
is men's, and
is also
a secret
brought
from
Savu. The
taboos
against
men
coming
near the indigo
pot are
mirrored
by similar
taboos that forbid women to go near metal smelting. The
importance
of weaving
and metalworking
are evident
in the Kodi creation
story,
which
presents
the Creator
as a double-gendered
entity:
a Mother
who tied the hair
at the forelock
(Inya
wolo hungga)
and
a Father who smelted
the skull at the crown
(Bapa
rawi
lindu).
The combination
of female
binding
and
dyeing
and
male
metal-
smelting
is what made the human
race.
Indigo
dyeing,
herbalism,
and
abortion medicines
are
part
of an occult
complex
of knowledge
invested
in older
women,
and
used at least
in part
to control
the
morals
of younger
women. Indigo
is the color for dyeing
funeral cloths all over Eastern
Indonesia,
and for this reason
is associated
with
both
death and
regeneration.
When
a woman dies
while
pregnant,
she is said to "carry
the funeral shroud
along
with
her
in the womb"
(ngandi
ghabuho
la kambu
dalo), since
the fetus
is enveloped
in the
placenta.
When
an adult
dies, he or she is enveloped
in indigo
cloths which
serve as
a second
placenta,
and the
body
is laid on its right
side, in fetal
position,
and
closely
bound
before
being
placed
in the "stone womb" of a tomb. Menstrual
blood is called
"blood
from the
womb"
(ruto
wali la kambu
dalo)
and
is said to dry
into the bluish-
black
color of a deep indigo
dye. Since menstrual blood
is also seen as "dead
blood,"
and as possibly infected
blood, its links to disease
but also to regeneration
are
important.
The
most
prestigious
indigo-dyed
cloth
is a man's
cloth,
the shroud
woven
with
the
pattern
of a python's
scales,
used to represent
the supposed
immortality
of
snakes
(see Hoskins
1991).
Kodi
society
would be marked
as displaying
an absence
of menstrual taboos
in
a shallow
comparative
study,
since menstruating
women
are
not forbidden to enter
villages or temples,
and
are
expected
to cook and clean for their
husbands
during
their
periods.
But a formal
absence of taboos does
not
mean
that menstruation is seen
as harmless,
or that
it is not important
in magic
and
witchcraft.
On the contrary,
Sumbanese
people believe that sexually transmitted diseases are the result of
deliberate
menstrual
poisoning
of men by women. An Australian
doctor who has
practiced
medicine on
the island
for
over 30 years
describes the
situation
in this
way:
"Women
are
supposed
to avoid
intercourse
during
their
menses,
but the men believe
that
unscrupulous
women will deceive men and
have intercourse
during
the phases
of the menses
when
the flow is slight,
either
from
an excess of sexual
desire,
or out
of malicious
or vengeful
intentions
to contaminate
the man concerned"
(Mitchell
1982:10).
According
to the local
theory, placing
the
penis
in contact with menstrual
blood
causes it to fester
and
produce
a "blood
clot"
(manuho,
the same word used
for the product
of a spontaneous
abortion),
which must
be transferred to another
woman by the same means it was acquired.
This vocabulary
suggests that the
experience
of a bloody
discharge
from
the penis is associated with the idea of an
inappropriate
male
pregnancy,
which
must be moved into a woman's
body in order
to relieve the male sufferer
of an affliction that blurs the distinction
between the
sexes.
322 ETHNOLOGY
Dr. Mitchell
surveyed
the relationship
between
fertility
and disease
in 1968-69,
while he was acting
head of the District
Health Service
in West Sumba. The island
had
wide variation
in
population growth
rates,
with slow
growth seeming
to correlate
with the highest levels of gonorrhea.
In connection
with a yaws-eradication
campaign,
he found
that
in the
areas
with the lowest
fertility
rates,
53 per
cent
of the
men had
untreated
gonorrhea,
and
23 per cent had the disease
in an asymptomatic
form.
Although
women could not
be examined,
fertility questionnaires
revealed
that
42 per cent of Wanukaka
women
had not had
children
since
the age of 25. These
data were compared
with data from another
district, Loli, with lower rates of
gonorrhea
and much
higher
fertility:
3.6 living children
per fertile
woman
in Loli
versus 1.9 in Wanukaka
(Mitchell
1995:2,
1982b).
Rates of gonorrhea
in Kodi
seem
to be much closer to those in Loli, although
the disease is not unknown.
My
genealogical
surveys show that only 16 per cent of women reported secondary
infertility
(defined
as no children
after
age
25), and
the average
number of children
born to each
mother was five.
The
local term
for
gonorrhea,
hadu
waricoyo,
translates
as "disease
you
get
from
women,
" or
more
euphemistically,
hadu
hamama,
"the disease
you get
from
chewing
betel"
(i.e., in courtship).
The key social
problem
that doctors
faced
in fighting
the
disease
was its relation
to sexual
politics.
Local
people
had
developed
a complex
set
of customs
for making
and
maintaining
sexual liaisons
outside
of formal
marriage
that
they refused
to reveal
to health
practitioners. They also believed that the only
way for men
to rid
themselves
of the
painful,
bleeding
sores on their
penises
was to
pass
them
to a woman,
whose
body
could
absorb
the infection
and
purge
itself
during
her menstrual
period. Rather than seeking
treatment
at local clinics, young men
therefore
simply sought
new women to "take
away the blood." Infections were
passed
back and forth
between
jealous and resentful
lovers, spurred
to seek new
sexual conquests
in the mistaken
belief that this would cure them of their own
affliction.
Women
in Kodi
are
associated
with the "blue arts"
of witchcraft,
indigo dyeing,
and
herbalism.
Hereditary
witches
have "blueness
in
them,"
they
are
"bluish
people"
(tou
morongo)
whose
very
blood is believed to be in some
way poisonous
to others.
While
both men
and women
may
be hereditary
witches,
only
women will pass
on the
affliction
to their children,
since witchcraft
always
travels
along
the matriline or
walla (flower).
Their souls may
travel
from
their
bodies
at night,
seeping
from the
navel
and
leaving
a small
bluish
ring, like a bruise,
around the area where
they
left;
this blue spot
can be seen as a symptom
of witchcraft. Blueness
is said to be deep
inside
the liver
(ela ate dalo)
of a witch,
a kind of poison
that
can
affect
others
even
without
her
willing it. On the other
side, herbalists
and
sorcerers
are called
people
who apply
blueness
(tou
tangu
moro),
since
they
intentionally manipulate
raw
green
and blue substances
to control
bleeding,
affect
the color of dye on threads,
and
restore
health or cause
mental
confusion. These
distinctions recall
Evans-Pritchard's
(1937)
famous
separation
of witchcraft and
sorcery,
defining
witchcraft as a largely
psychic
act, while sorcery
is a conscious
manipulation
of words and
objects.
Kodi
THE
MENSTRUAL
HUT
AND THE WITCH'S LAIR 323
"blue
witches" have a special
darkness
within
them,
while
others
simply
learn
to deal
with the darker
powers.
Since gonorrhea
has serious consequences
on fertility, menstrual
magic is
involved
not
only in afflicting
men
with
the disease,
but also in treating
women
who
believe
they may be afflicted with infertility by jealous
co-wives
or sexual
rivals.
Infertility
treatments on Sumba are
the
specialty
of female
midwives, masseuses,
and
herbalists
who use some of the same
roots
and
herbs
to stop
bleeding
in
women
after
childbirth
that
they
use to stop
the indigo dye from
bleeding
when it is washed.
One
particular
combination of herbs is said to cause an abortion,
another
to prevent
miscarriages,
another to "tighten
the womb" after
childbirth
and allow the new
mother
to recover her
strength.
One midwife
and herbalist
claimed
she had a vast array
of secret
potions
for
promoting
and
preventing
childbirth. A woman
who was
having difficulty
conceiving
would be told that her uterus was "turned
around,"
and
could, through
vigorous
massage,
be turned back and
opened
so that
children
could be born
from
it. A child
in the womb
who presented
in the breech
position
could also supposedly
be turned
around to permit
a normal birth. She said that her medicines could make "blue
blood"
that was
flowing
from
an
infected birth
canal turn
red
again
and
stop
flowing.
"It's all like the indigo dye pot," she said. "You
have
to use the right
herbs
and
roots
to get the color that
you want
and
keep
the fermentation
under
control."
Women's
skin was also
decorated
with the
same bluish
designs
woven into
cloth.
Older
women
still have
elaborate
tattoos on their forearms
and calves that
mark their
aristocratic rank and reproductive
achievements.
The designs include
geometric
patterns
called the "buffalo
eye" or the "horse's tail," which represent
the
bridewealth
animals
exchanged
for Kodi brides.
The first tattooing
occurs
shortly
after
menstruation
for women of high
rank
and
is said
to mark
them
as nubile and
available
for marriage.
The finest and
most intricate
designs
are reserved
for the
private
area of the
upper thighs,
usually
hidden
by sarungs
worn
to at least
the knee.
These
tattoos are
the
subject
of a huge
amount
of erotic
speculation
and even horrible
insults.
One
of the worst
things
one
can
say to a Kodi
man
is, "Your
mother
has no
tattoos on her
thighs,"
implying
both
that she is of low birth and that intimate
parts
of her
anatomy
are
already public
knowledge.
A full set of tattoos
designate
a woman
as a wife and mother
whose bridewealth
payments
have been made. They are
therefore
"receipts printed
on the skin,"
signs
that she has been
fully incorporated
into the patrilineal
house,
and
has
borne descendants
for that
house.
Tattoos are now rare in young girls who attend school and have become
unwilling
to have
these
signs of male
ownership
painfully
carved onto their
bodies.
But a traditional
midwife,
herbalist,
and tattoo artist
remained
proud
of the
mystique
she still had of being able to control all aspects of female reproduction
and
adornment,
saying
fiercely, "Men will never know
how much
we really
can do to
control
these
things.
We have all kinds of secrets,
and
they should
always
believe
that
we can
control even more than
we really
can."
324 ETHNOLOGY
A woman
famous for her knowledge
of magical potions
was said to have
two
recipes
to win back
a husband's
affections from a second
and
younger
wife. One
magical
recipe
uses
kitchen
ashes,
skin
scraped
from the hands and
feet, and
splinters
from the main
house
pillar,
which the husband
is supposed
to drink three times
in a
meat
broth.
The
other
recipe
involves sexual secretions
(saved
on a handkerchief
by
secretly
wiping
oneself
after
intercourse)
mixed with coffee or
tea, and served
to the
husband
without
him
knowing
it. One
seems
to evoke the magnetic authority
of the
ancestral
house,
the other
a different kind of magnetism.
INTERSEX
TENSIONS
AND BETRAYALS
The overt
menstrual
taboos of the Huaulu
involve both men and women
in the
social management
of a dangerous
substance,
which has to be safely
channeled
in
order to keep
it from
contaminating
food and descendants. Women
willingly
accept
quite
stringent
taboos
out of love of their
menfolk
and a sense that
they bear
an
important
responsibility.
For
many
of them,
the time
spent
in
the menstrual hut
may
not be unpleasant,
and it can even form an alternate
stage for performances
of
socially
valued
skills, such as singing
and
storytelling.
Women are also keenly sensitive to the fact that men depend
on them for
protection
against
a
potentially
dangerous
substance.
A man who
accidentally
touches
the
menstrual hut
or comes
too close
to the spring
where
menstruating
women
bathe
will begin
to cough
persistently,
and will finally
end
up spitting
blood.
His bleeding
from
the respiratory
apparatus
matches
female
genital
bleeding
(Valeri 2000:148).
Hemorrhaging
from the mouth is seen as conclusive evidence of menstrual
contamination.
A man who simply looks at a menstruating
woman
may become
nearsighted
or blind.
The one great uneasiness
that Huaulu men confess about their wives and
daughters
is that
they may laugh
at them while they are in the menstrual
huts, and
this
theme
of disruptive
female
laughter
is found
again
and
again
in Huaulu folklore.
Valeri
(1990) reports
a Huaulu
myth
about
the origin
of fire which
asserts
that
this
pre-eminent
cultural
acquisition
was endangered
when a male culture hero showed
his penis to a woman
and she laughed.
Women are normally supposed
to speak
quietly
in the menstrual
huts,
and
while
they
are allowed to sing and
tell stories,
if
they
laugh
too loudly
men
will come
and
ask
them to stop.
It is perhaps
an important
signal that even in a society which emphasizes
co-operation,
the possibilities
of
betrayal
are
still there.
Betrayal
of men
by women
(and
vice versa)
is, however,
central
to many
Kodi
notions of the
body
and its dangers,
even
if these do not include
menstrual
pollution
in the classic
sense.
Blood
out
of place
is associated
with
witchcraft,
whether
or not
this
blood
is specifically
identified
with
menstruation. Traces
of raw
blood found
in
a coconut,
or on a plate
of rice, are
a sign that the host
may
be a hereditary
witch
(tou morongo)
who must release
certain
bodily poisons into whatever foods she
prepares,
even without
necessarily
meaning
to harm a guest. The use of roots and
THE
MENSTRUAL
HUT
AND THE
WITCH'S
LAIR 325
barks
by herbalists and midwives is said to be a way of controlling
excessive
bleeding,
as in an indigo cloth when washed,
or the bleeding
of a woman
after
childbirth. The same preparations
(amo
ghaiyo, medicine
roots) are used in both
cases. Older women may also use these blue substances to enforce their own
standards of morality.
Beside
the bed
of a woman
suffering
to give birth or to expel
a placenta, they
hear
whispered
confessions of adultery
or incest,
and
decide
how
to
respond
to them. Their
cult of dyeing
secrets is also a cult that seeks to control
female
reproduction,
and
men are
strictly
excluded
from all its mysteries.
COMPARATIVE
COSMOLOGIES
To better understand
the
two societies
requires
turning
to their
cosmologies.
The
Huaulu
menstrual
hut does not correspond
to the romantic fantasies
of cultural
feminists,
who see
these
huts as
clubhouses
where
sisterhood
is powerful,
and
women
came to perceive
that "their
blood
was a key into the heart of the Goddess"
(Owen
1998:xiii).
Huaulu
men and
women
indeed believe that
menstrual blood is powerful,
but not to serve a gentle, nurturant
earth
goddess. It instead
is part of a cycle
initiated
by a terrifying
female
predator.
The Huaulu
story
of the origins
of death
illustrates how
female
power
is linked to themes of waning
and
waxing,
decomposi-
tion and
recomposition,
sex and
death:
It was a female
monster,
Hahanusa,
who introduced
death in the world
by outwitting
a male cultural
hero, Olenusa-the
epitome
of the
powerful
warrior. Olenusa's
"system" guaranteed immortality
and
eternal
youth
to humans
by providing
them
with a nonsexual mode of replacement.
Once
old, they
would
not die and be replaced by their
children,
but
would be transformed into
stone. The stone,
put
in the
kitchen,
would
break after three
days,
and
the
old
person
would come out of it, transformed
into
his or
her
youthful
self. This
system,
in which
man's
continuity
would be modeled after that
of durable
stone,
was opposed by Hahanusa,
who
propounded
a "system"
modeled after the banana
tree. The tree
is soft and does not last long, but it is replaced
by the "children"
(ananiem)
that
sprout
at its base.
Individual
immortality
is thus
contrasted in this
myth
with individual
mortality
as a logical
correlate of
species immortality
through
sexual reproduction.
And since in the latter woman is viewed as
preponderant,
she becomes identified
with a life that
implies
death.
(Valeri
2001:209)
Hahanusa is feared
and hated
by the Huaulu,
who find occasions to curse
her (and
tell her
story)
whenever
someone dies
in
the
community.
But
they
also
recognize
that
death
is necessary,
for if humans did not die, the world would
be too full of them:
"We would have not enough
to eat, we would have to eat one another"
(Valeri
2001:209).
So Hahanusa's
grim
victory
has meant that
new
generations
can be born,
and
that
people
can
co-operate
and
live together,
because
they are
all aware that
life
must
imply
death
in order
to continue. "The
paradox
is recognized,
but men still
cannot
quite accept
it, as they cannot
quite accept
its signs in women's
bodies"
(Valeri
2001:209).
Huaulu women
are seen as connected to the earth,
and
to Puhum,
the anthro-
pomorphized
primordial
earth
mother,
who is married to Lahatala,
the primordial
heavenly
father.
Human
bodies
come
from
the first
mother,
and were
originally
made
326 ETHNOLOGY
of earth,
and so they
are
corruptible
like all earthly things.
The breath
of life, "like
a wind,"
comes from
the
heavenly
father.
The female-created
parts
of human
beings
rot and
decay,
while
the male-created
breath
leaves the body
at death and
disperses
in the air. Male
spirit
is abstract and
as powerful
as the invisible
winds
that contain
the
animating
breath of past
generations.
It is associated
with
heat,
light,
the
day,
and
the glowing
sun. Female
power
is concrete,
earthy,
and related to plant
and
human
regeneration.
The
earth
mother is associated
with
coolness, darkness,
and
night,
and
the changing
shape and luminosity
of the moon. The Huaulu also state that a
woman's menstrual
periods
are
triggered
by the appearance
of the new moon:
Menstruation
is connected with the lunar
cycle: the transition from the old to the new moon allegedly
triggers it. When I pointed out to my informants
that
women seemed to go to the menstrual
huts at any
time of month, I was answered that there is a greater
concentration
of menstruating
women at about
the
time of the new moon and that, anyhow, this was always so "in the past." (Valeri 2001:208)
When the "earth
mother
calls,"
people
die a natural death
of old age, and
their
ghosts come to reside on earth.
When the "heavenly
father
calls," people die a
sudden,
violent death
(by
falling
from
trees or being
eaten
by wild animals,
or when
giving birth)
and
their
ghosts
reside
in heaven. "Women are the passive
bearers
of
a force that
gives a life implying
death;
men willingly
and
artificially give death"
(Valeri
2001:210).
The most important
male ritual
object
in Huaulu,
the greatest
source of its
strength,
and
the symbol
of its alleged
superiority
over
all neighboring
societies
is,
appropriately
enough, a "living" phallus descended from the heavenly father
Lahatala:
This object (referred to as "a human being" and named Leautuam, "the sun's life principle") is
preserved in the most sacred house in the village, and it is to it, as luma upan "lord of the house," that
men consecrated
(and
perhaps
still occasionally
consecrate)
the fruits of their
manly
exploits-the heads
of their enemies. I was told that when this happened, the always-erect phallus vibrated in triumph,
its
strength
renewed. There could not be a more telling proof of the identification of maleness, as strength
and power of subjugation,
with society's identity
and sacredness. (Valeri 2001:207)
The
phallus
is explicitly
linked
to men's
power
to cause
bleeding
in human and
animal
victims,
and its cult
celebrates
male bloodthirstiness
in
graphic
detail.
Today,
the
Huaulu
lament
the fact
that
they
can
no longer
"freely
shed
blood and
face death
in the eye" (Valeri 2001:243), since headhunting
is forbidden and "the fuller
knowledge
of death that was accessible to their forbears eludes them" (Valeri
2001:244).
And
yet female
fertility
is a central
ritual
preoccupation
in Huaulu
life.
"Let
women give birth
well" is the most frequently
heard
invocation
in Huaulu
prayers,
and men recognize
that "without
women, men would not exist" (Valeri
2001:205).
The
most
terrifying
image
of the
dangers
to human
health
and
fertility
are
the witch-like
female
ghosts
called
the muluakina-the
ghosts
of women who have
bled to death
in giving birth,
or women who failed to conceive
or miscarried and
died
childless.
They
are
said to attack
men
in the
forest,
"severing
their
genitals
and
THE
MENSTRUAL
HUT AND THE
WITCH'S
LAIR 327
giving
them
to their
babies as playthings"
(Valeri 2001:206). They may also make
men bleed
to death
by causing
them
to fall from
trees or cut themselves
on their
hunting
weapons.
The
muluakina is a gruesome
image
of female
revenge
and
female
predation,
in
which a woman makes
men
bleed
to exact
payment
for her
own
suffering.
In
a study
of the gendered
origins
of warfare,
Ehrenreich
(1997:107)
argues
that the spectacle
of menstruation
may
often
be tied
to images
of predator
goddesses:
"The
vagina,
in
myth
sometimes a vagina
dentata,
represents
a mouth
as well as a 'wound,'
and the
mouth of the predator
animal
is often
its most powerful
weapon.
Long
before
the
male
phallus
gained
its symbolic
status
as a weapon,
the
blood-smeared
mouth
may
have
been the
organ
most
associated
with
violence and
potency."
Like
the
Greek
and
Roman Medusa or the Hindu
Kali, the muluakina's
bloody
maw
places
her in the
fierce sisterhood
of female
predatory
ghosts called
pontianak
found all over the
Malay
archipelago.
In Kodi,
these
female
ghosts
take
on a terrifying
form in Kali
Nggaka,
a demon
described as tall and white skinned
with a single
pendulous
breast
(warico
ha wu huhu),
and in the more
erotically appealing
but equally
dangerous
nymphs
(lemba
karingge)
who haunt
certain
sources
and
seashores.
These
beautiful
temptresses
have
genitals
switched
back to front
and
an
extra
opening
at the back
of
their
necks
for their
souls to escape
and wander.
Women
are seen as the originators
of death,
but also of a cycle of life-giving
fluids and
substances. Their
cooling,
fertile
powers
are needed
for human
reproduc-
tion,
but
they
must
be
judiciously
combined
with
male
heat and
passion.
In
this
way,
the cult of life and
strength
which
is Huaulu
religion
is dualistic
and based on the
combination
of male and female elements,
which are often separated
but must
ultimately
be reunited.
Menstruation
is contrasted
to the practice of bleeding boys in initiation
ceremonies. While
menstruation is involuntary,
and
apparently
co-ordinated
with the
cycles of the moon,
the bleeding
of young
boys is voluntary,
and should
normally
be performed
by a man
"who has seen
blood,"
who is a hunter
and,
in the
past,
also
a hunter
of human
heads. This bleeding is usually described as circumcision,
although
on Sumba it was really supercision
(making
a vertical
slit in the foreskin
of
the penis), and
that
may also have
been true
in Huaulu
(Valeri
2001:246, n. 37).3
When young Huaulu
men were recovering
from being cut, it was particularly
important
for them
to avoid
contact
with
bleeding
women,
and
also with
hunting
and
fishing
implements
(cf. Valeri
2001:237). Once
they have recovered,
they can be
presented
with
a bark
loincloth,
which
signifies
their
social
acceptance
as adult
males,
capable
of sexual
activity.
The taking
of the loincloth is followed
by a period of license-flirting and
dancing
with girls all night
long-which often
results
in a socially
acceptable
trial
marriage:
"The
temporal
sequence
here
reflects
an ontological
one: the phallus
is
indeed-as pointed
out
in
psychoanalytic
theory-a detachable and
transactable
object.
The reality of exchange-between men and women, between exogamous
groups-grows in the shade of a severance"
(Valeri
2001:241).
328 ETHNOLOGY
Huaulu
headhunting
and
circumcision can
be
conceived
as substitution
sacrifices:
"The
idea
is explicitly
articulated
for headhunting,
which
is defined as feeding
blood
to the ancestors
so that they do not feed on Huaulu
blood, and indirectly
for
circumcision,
since
it was believed
that the
more
copious
the
bleeding
at the
moment
of operation-the
more
abundant the offering
of one's life to the ancestral
principle
-the greater
the return:
luck
in life" (Valeri
2001:242).
Ehrenreich's
argument
that blood sacrifice
and warfare
build on the human
experience
of being
prey
as well as predator
is supported
by Valeri's
argument
that
people
like the Huaulu feel a close
kinship
with the
wild animals that
surround
them:
"The
intimacy
that the pastoralist
experiences
with the animals
of his flocks and
herds,
the agriculturalist
with
his cereal or tuberous
plants,
and
the warrior
with his
enemy,
the hunter
experiences
with the game
on which his life and sense of worth
depend"
(Valeri
2001:266).
This intimacy
is particularly
strong
when
the opponent
is a large, powerful,
and dangerous
animal like a wild boar, deer, or cassowary.
Their
tusks,
antlers,
and
powerful
legs are
capable
of goring
humans and even
killing
them.
The forest is believed to be owned
by spirits,
"the
lords of the
forest"
(kaitahu
upuem),
who
patrol
the area and
become
angry
if too many
of their
animals are killed
by humans. "Just as humans
hunt
game
with their
dogs, so the lords of the forest
invisibly
hunt
humans-and
their
dogs are
pigs, deer
and
cassowaries!
The
price
of
eating
meat
is becoming
meat"
(Valeri
2001:268).
The lords of the forest
can also chase humans as sexual
objects, assuming
the
illusory
form of a lover,
or husband,
or even wife in order to "assault
or even seduce
humans,
driving
them
to death
through
the
madness of insatiable
longing
and desire.
Eating
thus
becomes
'eating'
(a Huaulu
metaphor
for sexual
intercourse).
The
arrow
shot at the animal
bounces
back at the human. But at the end of its loop, it takes
a
genital
form: it penetrates
humans at the point
of their
greatest vulnerability-sex"
(Valeri 2001:270).
Huaulu
religion
focuses on propitiating
two sets of spirits
which can become
angry:
the lords
of the forest,
who receive the head
of each
hunting
victim so that
they
will authorize
the
consumption
of its meat,
and
the lords of the
house,
who
may
punish
human
transgressions
with
sickness,
sterility,
famine,
or excessive
rain. The
animal
head is symbolically
returned
to its original
owners,
the lords of the forest,
in a wordless
gesture,
as it is simply put
on a tree.
In
contrast,
offerings
to the lords
of the house,
which
range
from
a bit of tobacco
and betel to cloth, arm-shells,
and
porcelain
plates, are always
accompanied by "prayers,
requests,
curses
and even
threats"
(Valeri
2001:279-80).
The lords of the house were also offered human
heads,
in the era
before
pacification,
and are
presented
with five marsupials
at the
time of the initiation feast
(kahua)
(Valeri
2001:284).
Kodi cosmology, in contrast,
is classically
dualist, and would seem on an
idealized
level to offer a paradigm
for
gender co-operation. Spirits
are
always
evoked
with
paired
couplets,
often
including
one female
term
and one male
one, with the
two
images
paired
to suggest
a single metaphor.
The Creator
is double-gendered,
and
called
"Mother who bound
the
forelock,
Father
who smelted
the crown"
(Inya
wolo
THE
MENSTRUAL
HUT AND THE
WITCH'S
LAIR 329
hungga,
Bapa
rawi
lindu),
combining
the female task
of binding
threads for weaving
with
the male
one of smelting
metal
(for
tools, weapons,
or the hard
human
skull).
The
breath-like,
vulnerable
aspect
of the soul, the
hamaghu
or vital
spirit,
is said
to
reside at the
forelock.
It can
be detached
during
delirious
illness,
attacked
by
witches,
and
lost at death.
The more
enduring
ancestral soul resides at the top of the crown,
and it continues to live on after
death as the object
of the patrilineal
cult of the
ancestors. Each
person
has both a
female-created
hamaghu
and
a male-created
ndewa,
and
belongs
to both a dispersed
matriclan
identified
as the "flowering"
(walla)
of an
early
ancestress,
and
a spatially
defined
patriclan
identified
with an
ancestral
village
(parona).
When Kodi people pray, they invoke the highest-ranking,
double-gendered
deities,
and then
lower-ranking
ones,
which
may
be male or female. The
founder
of
each
village is the "Elder
Mother,
Ancient Father"
(Inya Matuyo,
Bapa
Maheha),
and
each garden
hamlet
has its "Mother
of the Earth,
Father
of the Rivers"
(Inya
mangu
tana, Bapa mangu loko).
Below these deities
are smaller
guardian spirits
at
the
edge of the ceiling
and
the
top of the house,
at the
garden's
gate
and the edge
of
cultivated
land, and in the graves and tombstones.
They skirt the margins
and
boundaries
of human
spaces
and are given human
names.
Ancestors are normally
invoked as
couples,
"dead
mothers
and dead
fathers,"
usually
as
a husband/wife
pair,
although
sometimes
as brother/sister.
At the bottom
of the spirit
hierarchy
lie the
undifferentiated
and
genderless
spirits
of wealth
and
plentiful
harvest;
rice
and
corn,
livestock, and cloth. Their lower rank is marked
by the fact that they are not
anthropomorphized
or given
personal
names. Gender
combination is thus a sign of
power.
The
double-gendered
deities
are the most
complete
and
perfect
beings;
their
paired
subsidiaries
are
somewhat less illustrious
(and
addressed
according
to the same
etiquette
as human
ancestors),
while the spirits
of wealth and
crops
are
more inert
and
faceless.
The symbolism
of descent
opposes
blood to bones and vitality to ancestral
essence in a way that is suggestive
for the understanding
of menstruation. The
patriclan
(parona)
is divided into houses
(uma),
which designate
both a physical
structure
in the ancestral
village and a patrilineage
with specific
ritual tasks. The
patriclan
is personified
in the
great
tree
planted
beside
an
upright
stone which
gives
its name
to most
of the
villages
(called
High
Tamarind
Tree,
Great
Banyan
Tree,
Tall
Kapok
Trunk,
etc.). Descendants
are the "fruits and flowers"
of the tree (ha wu
walla
da), with
males
being
the
seed-bearing
fruit,
and females
the flowers
which are
picked
and
bloom
in other
villages.
The word for flower
(a common
euphemism
for
menstruation,
"wearing
a flower
between the legs")
also refers
to the female blood
lines
(walla)
which
bear
the
personal
name of an ancestress,
the
place
of her
origin,
and
sometimes a link
to sorcery
or scandal.
Matrilines
define
marriage
exogamy,
the
dangers
of mixing
the same
blood,
and the inheritance
of personality
characteristics,
while patrilines
define
land
ownership,
the inheritance
of heirloom
valuables,
and
ritual
tasks.
A person's
patriline
is always
an object
of public
knowledge,
while the
same
person's
matriline
may
be a shameful
secret. Some
matrilines are
said
to consist
330 ETHNOLOGY
of hereditary
witches, others
of the descendants
of slaves, foreigners,
or outcasts
(Hoskins 1993:16-18).
Matrilineal ties may provide
access to occult knowledge,
especially
of the "blue
arts" of herbalism,
indigo
dyeing,
and
midwifery
and
abortion
(Hoskins 1989),
but
they are
carefully kept
out of the spotlight
and
alluded
to only
discreetly
when
marriages
are
being
negotiated.
Blood is therefore
both
central
to Kodi
cosmology
and
personhood
and
vaguely
suspect,
since
it can
suggest
secret ties and
subversive
activities.
Women do not
live
with people
of the same
blood, as they move
from
the house
of their birth
to their
husband's house
once
a substantial
amount of bridewealth
has been
paid.
Women
do
at
times
leave their
husbands and
seek a divorce,
but
they
must
give
up
their
children
in order
to do so. Many
Kodi
wives
tolerate
physical
abuse
and
younger
co-wives
in
order
to remain with their
children
and raise them
in the patrilineage.
A wife joins
in the worship
of her husband's
ancestors
when she joins his household,
and
can
invoke her
own
ancestors
only
in prayers
to ask
for more children.
The
spirits
of the
mother's
village remain
ritually important
at life-crisis rituals, marriages,
and
funerals,
because
only they can bestow
the blessings
of health
and fertility,
and
remove the pollution
of death.
Hunting
is no longer
important
in Kodi
subsistence,
which is tied
to gardens
of
rice and corn, and herds
of horses
and buffalo.
Women
do a large share
of the
gardening
and tend pigs and chickens,
while men and boys herd the livestock.
Domestic
animals
are sacrificed
at
feasts,
weddings,
and
funerals,
and since
they
are
traded for women
in bridewealth
(at least ten "tails": five horses
and five buffalo),
women identify with the animals in a series of fables that mock masculine
assumptions
and
stress female
resourcefulness
(Hoskins 1998:59-82).
These stories
make
reference
to women's
knowledge
of reproductive
medicines,
and hint at their
power
as sorceresses,
but in general
they are critical
of particular
men
who do not
treat
their
wives
well, rather than
critical
of the institutions
(polygyny, patriliny,
etc.)
which
make
abuse
possible.
The
stories
reveal Kodi women
as strategists
who
try
to
make
the
best
of what
they
have
been
given,
rather than resistance
fighters
who
seek
eventually
to overthrow the whole
system.
Kodi gender
dualism is based on an idealized
interdependence
of male and
female,
treated
in an image
of mutuality,
but this cosmogony
does not
translate
on
the ground
into an inspiring
recipe
for female
empowerment.
The symbolic
and
spiritual
parity
that
is portrayed
in the
heavens
is, to say the least,
not
fully realized
in the everyday
sexual
politics of the region. Masculinity
is not as marked
as in
Huaulu,
since there
are
no organized
male initiation ceremonies.
Femininity
is also
less marked
as both
powerful
and
polluting,
since there are
few obvious
menstrual
restrictions.
Menstruation
becomes something
more secretive, still potentially
dangerous
and
even
infectious
(in
its links
to sexually
transmitted
diseases).
But while
women are rarely
excluded from
public
events,
they are usually
not the principal
players, either. A mother
has the right to veto, through
nonparticipation, any
important
decisions
about the marriage
of her sons or daughters
or the transfer of
THE
MENSTRUAL HUT AND THE
WITCH'S
LAIR 331
property
(land,
livestock,
etc.), but she rarely speaks
in formal
negotiations
and
is
almost
always
on the sidelines.
The
comparison
of cosmologies
reveals
that initial
impressions
can be
misleading:
while the Huaulu
have a rather
blatant form of phallus
worship among their
traditional
practices,
their
daily
lives are not
necessarily
more
oppressive
of women
than
the daily
practices
of many
other
people
in Southeast Asia. The region
has, in
fact,
been
considered to accord
a relatively
high
social
position
to women
(Atkinson
and
Errington
1990;
Reid 1988).
Kodi
cosmology
seems
to give greater
priority
to
female
spirits
and
double-gendered
deities,
but these
are
aspects
of a general
dualism
in which
images
of mutuality
and
co-operation
are evoked
in the language
of gender,
but
not
necessarily
acted on in households and
villages
with
living
men
and women.
CONCLUSIONS
Douglas
(2000:2288)
argues
that
recent
explanations
of taboo
include relational
theories,
in which
taboos
project
the
relations
of society upon
the relations
in nature;
housekeeping
theories,
in which taboos
tidy up the conceptual
world and reduce
cognitive ambiguity;
and moral theories, in which taboos create dangers
that
reinforce the moral
code. Her
own
formulation of pollution
has been
primarily
with
the housekeeping
model,
which
views pollution
as an aid to "imposing system"
on
"an
inherently
untidy experience,"
equating
it with
dirt as "matter out of place."
But the
relationship
between
ideas
of menstrual
pollution
and sexual
politics
that
I have
just surveyed
in these
two Indonesian societies
suggests
that
it is not dirt but
bodily
integrity
which is at
the
root of the
experience
of menstrual
anxiety.
As Valeri
(2000:103)
has
argued
for the
Huaulu,
"The reason that certain
bodily
substances
are
viewed as polluting is precisely that, coming from inside other people, they
intimately belong
to them, and
thus
undermine our
own
intimate sense
of self when
they enter into contact with us. Their decay and decay-inducing properties
are
secondary: they
simply
reinforce
a fear
of loss of identity
and
integrity
which
already
evokes
death."
Why, then, do men and women in some societies find menstrual
blood so
powerful
and
fearsome,
while
in others it is much less the subject
of public
manage-
ment?
I suggest
that there
is in almost all societies a profound
ambivalence about
bodily
emissions,
particularly
genital
bleeding,
and that
those
societies,
like the Kodi
of Sumba,
which
do not
mark
menstruation
obviously may
nonetheless
harbor a deep
fear
of the
consequences
of menstrual
contamination.
Hence,
secret menstruation
can
be more
closely
linked
to witchcraft,
illness,
and
betrayal
than
the social
practices
of
menstrual
seclusion
and
pollution.
How
does
this
idea of bodily
integrity apply
to the
two
societies considered here?
For the Huaulu, men must avoid menstruation because it directly endangers the
purposeful
shedding
of blood
that
they engage
in while hunting
or headhunting.
If
they
do break the
taboo,
they
will start to bleed
themselves,
coughing
up blood and
choking
on it, blocking
their
own eating
and
breathing processes
by inappropriate
332 ETHNOLOGY
bleeding.
If they
look
at
menstruating
women,
they
will become
nearsighted
or
blind.
In Kodi, in contrast,
inappropriate
contact with menstrual
blood causes
bleeding
of
the penis, sores, and pain, which may lead to impotence
and infertility.
This is
described as a male
"abortion,"
an
inappropriate
pregnancy.
So in
both
cases it is the
gendered
integrity
of the body
which
is threatened:
contact
with female
menstrual
blood
makes men
less masculine,
and therefore
weaker.
Contact
with menstrual
blood
is hedged
with anxiety
because it occurs
between
lovers,
who are
supposed
to show
trust for one another but
may
often be unsure of
that
trust.
Love may be seen as flirting with precisely that loss of identity which we fear most, but also desire
most, and which is evoked by the mixing of the innermost
bodily substances. To be penetrated,
invaded,
just as to penetrate, to invade, is to break down the boundaries of self and other, the experience, the
shudder-and pleasure-of self-annihilation,
of a death that is no death. Love is, perhaps, a controlled
form of fear, playing with the catastrophe
of pollution by circumscribing
it in a space and time hidden
from the all-seeing eye of society and its relentless dictate of personal integrity. (Valeri 2000:104)
Menstrual
taboos have
been
mistakenly
linked
to sexual
antagonism
because
of
an emphasis
on the negativity
of taboos. Douglas (2000:2288), readjusting
her
argument
after
reading
Valeri's
book, makes this
point
well:
Taboos stop the cosmos from disintegrating. It is a process of learning by not doing. The strange
connections taboos make between actions and consequences are not due to faulty logic but to a
formidable
intellectual effort to link nature
and morality into one single scheme. . . . The effort that
the Huaulu themselves make to reconcile frail hierarchy
and trusting equality is mirrored for them in
the precariously
balanced
position and dynamic
contests that mark
all relations
among humans, animals
and plants.
In a modern
urban
context
where
menstruation itself
may
not be feared
but the
exchange
of blood
and
bodily
fluids is associated
with the transmission
of AIDS and
other
sexual
diseases,
linking
fear to love-making
still makes
sense,
psychologically
and
medically.
Even
without
our
present
knowledge
of HIV
infection,
it is clear that
intimate
contact
threatens
body
boundaries
in a wide range
of societies.
Classifying
some
as having
ideas of menstrual
pollution
while others do not is an
oversimplifica-
tion of a complex
relationship
between
efforts
by members of both sexes to open
themselves
up to another
person,
and
also to control the loss of identity
which
may
follow such
intimacy.
NOTES
1. Fieldwork in Seram was conducted with Valerio Valeri over a period of five months in 1985, 1986,
and 1988. Fieldwork in Sumba was conducted over a total period of four years in 1979-1981, 1984,
1985, 1986, 1988, and the summer of 2000. This research
was supported by the Fulbright
Commission,
SSRC, NSF, Wenner Gren, the Research School of Pacific Studies, ANU, and the USC Faculty
Research and Innovation Fund.
2. The associations between indigo and witchcraft, and especially the spirits of the dead, are found
in many parts of eastern Indonesia. Indigo
may be associated with spiritual
malevolence and especially
THE
MENSTRUAL HUT
AND THE
WITCH'S
LAIR 333
ghosts because the dye is used for funeral
shrouds. On Roti, terrifying spirits
use wild indigo plants for
nefarious
purposes (Fox 1973:350). While indigo can be used for sorcery, it can also be used to "fix"
the body of someone who has died a violent death (Fox 1973:360).
3. This kind of operation
is also performed
in Toraja,
Indonesia,
in Tonga, Tahiti, Tikopia, and many
parts of New Guinea. Langness (1999:92) suggests it is performed to "relax a tight penis" for
intercourse
and to assure that the glans is retractable,
suggesting that
this could be "one of those male
secrets that would shame men if women knew." Huaulu
women definitely
know that
men need to bleed
from the penis before they can have intercourse,
and it was Kodi practice
that
after supercision
a young
boy needed to have intercourse first with an older woman, preferably postmenopausal, so that the
"water from the knife" (the first semen) would be deposited in a safe place, since its "heat" could
damage the fertility of his future wife. Male bleeding was supposed to make men stronger and more
potent, and also protect them from debilitating disease. In this regard, it is interesting that recent
medical research has shown that supercision and circumcision offer some protection from AIDS and
other venereal diseases, so perhaps there was a medical rationale for these forms of male genital
mutilation.
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