By Tutu Dutta
Xi Feng tossed the keys to his companion, “You’re driving, Sumandak. After all you’re the native, here.”
“I thought you’d never ask!” Sumandak expertly caught the keys and got into the driver’s seat of the white Land Cruiser, “What a beauty! Am I glad we booked this car beforehand!”
Within a few minutes, the car had cruised its way out of the airport. They fell into a companiable silence as the car left the urban areas behind and entered the countryside. Here were swathes of tall grass, bushes and the odd tree, usually covered in suffocating climbing vines. This landscape was interspersed with patches of domesticated garden surrounding small wooden houses.
Xi Feng looked at the passing scenery through the window and asked, “What’s the name of your ancestral place? Sorry I find it really difficult to remember the names of places here…”
She said, “Penampang. It’s supposed to be the heartland of the Kadazan-Dusun people, but the region is now being swallowed up by Kota Kinabalu. Ancestral padi fields are sprouting houses, and turning Penampang into KK’s sprawling suburbs. But we are going even further inland into my ancestral village, Kampong Turan. My grandmother lives there, she is what we call a Bobohizan.”
When the landscape gave way to serene padi fields Xi Feng took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, almost in meditation. It was such a change from the stifling concrete jungle sprouting all over Kuala Lumpur and it’s suburbs.
After a few hours, they reached Sumandak’s village—a cluster of wooden houses on stilts, with thatched roof surrounded by wide expanse of padi fields; now ripe and shining golden in the breezy sunlight. In the distance, dark brooding forested mountains overlooked the village, on the other side of the road, a river was clearly visible.
A small group of people waiting by the roadside to welcome them. At the head was an elderly woman, with black hair still untouched by age. She was dressed in a black sarong and a fitted black tunic with silver buttons. An antique silver belt, held her sarong in place. Xi Feng knew at once that she must be the Bobohizan, she radiated authority and an unbending will even from a distance.
Sumandak turned to him and said, “We have finally arrived at Sleepy Hollow! But I grew up here and it’s always exciting for me to return home…”
She parked the car under a tree and jumped out to meet the villagers. Xi Feng followed her. The elderly woman came forward and greeted her warmly, holding her in a tight embrace. She greeted Xi Feng genially enough but he had a feeling that she did not quite approve of him. She looked at him with a piercing gaze, her eyes appraising him.
Two teenaged boys rushed forward to help them to carry their luggage into the village. Xi Feng had been placed in a saperate house, with a male relative of the family, while Sumandak was to stay in her grandmother’s large wooden house. He rested for a while before joining Sumandak in her grandmother’s house for lunch. A feast had been laid out for them—aromatic steamed rice, grown and harvested in the village itself; fresh fish wrapped in banana leaves and roasted; chicken roasted in bamboo with coconut milk, spiced with wild ginger and cut chillis; and a favorite of Samundak: fern shoots fried with tender bamboo shoots and cut chillies.
Xi Feng loved spicy food and did not need to be asked twice before he started eating. Remembering what Sumandak had said about rice, he commented, “Is this ‘red rice’ unique to this region? It’s really special… I’ve never tasted rice this delicious before. Not even Basmati or Jasmine rice.”
The Bobohizan nodded. She smiled at him for the first time and said, “I am happy that you like our rice. It is a type of rice found only in this village, handed down to us from our ancestors. According to our beliefs, Huminodun herself used to live here… and
red rice is special to us, because it came from the flesh of Huminodun.”
Xi Feng was slightly startled to hear her say, ‘the flesh of Huminodun’ but he assumed that it was not to be taken literally. He replied politely, “I’m studying ancient seeds, Tok Bobohizan; so these stories are of interest to me.”
The Bobohizan smiled again. “There is much for you to learn here… Sumandak will show you around the village and rice farms.”
After lunch, the two of them went for a stroll around the village. He had brought his camera with him and suggested that they walk towards the river. He commented, “So how did I do so far? I get the feeling that your grandmother doesn’t really trust me. Anyway, what was that she said about red rice being the flesh of Huminodun?”
Sumandak turned away from him and started walking along the river bank. He followed her. She said after a while, “Huminodun is the rice spirit and her myth is the cornerstone of Kadazan-Dusun culture. This is how it goes—Huminodun was the only daughter of Kinoingan and Suminundu, god like beings who lived on earth. She was beautiful, obedient, and graceful, the embodiment of the ideal Kadazan-Dusun woman.
“According to the legend, a drought brought famine to the land and the people were starving. He father, Kinoingan had a dream that if he sacrificed Huminodun to the earth, the draught will end. Huminodun heard her father discuss this dream with her mother, and she understood that she had to sacrifice herself to feed her people. She begged her father to do it, even though her mother and her friends, pleaded with her not to go through with it. When their food ran out and there seemed no end to the drought, Kinoingan realised he had no choice but to go ahead with the sacrifice. It was a terrible death, her body was strewn all over the land…”
Xi Feng caught his breath and was about to say something but decided to keep silent.
“But true enough, the moment she died, the sky drew dark and rain started to fall. The draught was over. Her body became the seeds which gave birth to rice… and red rice is the most sacred because it came from her flesh…”
He finally decided to voice his thoughts, “I’ve read about stuff like this… but I never knew that things like this happened here, even in the past… I can’t imagine a father willing to sacrifice his own daughter… no matter what was at stake.”
She sighed and said, “You don’t understand. Our people love her and remember her for this. We truly believe, we would not be here today, if she had not allowed herself to be sacrificed. Those were harsh times, I guess. Anyway, the cult of the Bobohizan is tied to the myth of Huminodun.”
“Interesting. How is this so?” enquired Xi Feng.
“You’ll find out about it tomorrow. The village is going to harvest the rice and I’m going to assist my grandmother in the ritual… but before that, there’s going to be an interesting event tonight, under the full moon,” she said mysteriously, with a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
That evening they had dinner as usual with an added ingredient—home-made rice wine. After dinner, several older women from the village gathered around the Bobohizan’s house. Sumandak greeted them and passed them cups of rice wine. The Bobohizan, finally emerged in full traditional costume, topped by an elaborate rattan hat, when the full moon waxed high above them and incalculable stars and other celestial bodies twinkled in the night sky.
The Bobohizan led the procession of women down into the padi fields, lit only by the full moon. They walked along the raised bund so as not to damage any of the rice plants. Once in the middle of the field, she raised her hand and sang out an incantations. Sumandak and Xi Feng were at the tail end as he was the only man in the procession. A soft breeze blew from the distant hills, and the rice plants, heavy with ripe grains, rippled like silvery waves. Xi Feng felt a profound sense of calm and exhilaration wash over him. The air itself seemed suffused with enchantment and the glow of the moon—their sole source of illumination—transformed the familiar countryside into an otherworldly landscape. He did not see the tears falling from Sumandak’s eyes as she whispered, “She must have walked under this same moon, centuries ago…”
However, his sense of equanimity disintegrated when he heard
Sumandak uttering the same incantations as the Bobohizan; he had never heard
her sound like that before. The hairs at the back of his head stood on end when
he realised that there was a second voice layering her own voice, a parched
agonised female voice. He forced himself to calm down and reached out to hold
her hand firmly as she continued with her incantations, her eyes unseeing and
her feet treading the ground in measured steps.
The other women in the group were too preoccupied with the Bobohizan to realise what was going on. When they reached the middle of the field, Sumandak fell to her knees on the ground and wept. The Bobohizan started momentarily but she recovered and continued with her incantations. Xi Feng helped Sumandak up to her feet and persuaded her to return to her grandmother’s place while the Bobohizan and the women continued with the ritual.
Early, the next morning, the women involved with harvesting the rice descended unto the rice fields, led by the Bobohizan. Xi Feng and Sumandak were up early as well. He was relieved to see that she was in good spirits. She seemed to have forgotten the events of last night.
The Bobohizan was the first in the field and slowly started to cut single stalks of rice, carefully selecting them from different parts of the field. Sumandak explained to Xi Feng, “Every year, before rice can be harvested, the Bobohizan will descend onto the rice fields to perform a special ritual. She will cut seven stalks of rice from seven different parts of the rice field. Then she ties the seven stalks to a bamboo pole and plants the pole in the ground.”
She paused and they both silently watched the figure in black carry out the age old ritual. She continued, “Then the villagers are allowed to harvest the rice. The first day’s harvest must be placed in a large jar known as the tangkob and she places the bamboo pole with the seven stalks of rice into the tangkob as well.
“The ritual significance is that the Bobohizan is gathering the seven pieces of Huminodun’s spirit and reuniting them in the tangkob for safekeeping, until the next planting season. The rice in the tangkob cannot be eaten or sold and must only be used as seeds to sow the next rice crop. In this way, her spirit is being preserved in the rice from generation to generation…”
Xi Feng looked at her intently, his dark eyes bright with interest. “When I was a student in the UK, I visited some farms in Norfolk. After the harvest, they made corn dollies there. Of course, in old English, corn means grain and the ‘dollies’ represent the spirit of the grain. According to folklore, the corn goddess, hides in the last sheaf of corn, when the field is harvested. Usually, an older woman—it’s always a woman, isn’t it?—would make a dolly out of the last sheaves and keep it in the farmhouse. When Spring returns the next year, the dolly would be broken up and scattered all over the field.”
Sumandak looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “I’ve always thought that these practices were unique to us. Who would have thought that farmers in the UK had similarities to rice farmers living in remote villages in Borneo? Interesting…”
“I’ve also realised something else. If what your grandmother claims is true, than the rice in your village must be incredibly ancient—a pure genetic strain from the distant past, perhaps all the way to the time Huminodun herself was alive,” Xi Feng continued excitedly.
Sumandak looked at him in surprise. “I’ve never thought about that but you could be right… I mean about the rice being ancient. We’ve never used the new strains that the government gives out to the villages…”
“Do you think your grandmother would be mind if I collect some seeds for lab tests and for my specimen collections?” he asked with just a trace of eagerness in his voice.
She actually seemed pleased by his requests. “I don’t think she would mind, but it can only be done tomorrow. And you have to take those which are scattered on the fields…”
He nodded. “I understand.”
Sumandak said, “Well, as I’ve mentioned earlier… for us this is a celebration, not a mourning. So a feast called Kaamatan is held to celebrate the homecoming of Huminodun to the tangkob. This ritual restores the lost and splintered spirit during harvest and rice processing… anyway, you’ll get to experience it tonight!”
After the rice harvested on that day, had been carefully placed in the giant earthenware jar which rested in the rice granary, the entire village held a feast in the communal hall. This time everyone joined in, both young and old. Xi Feng noted that the feast was marked with offerings of food made of rice—rice wine, fermented rice and eggs. He forgot his earlier apprehension and joined in the merry making. The young women pulled him to his feet and tried to teach him how to dance. This was followed by a mini beauty pageant and a young teenaged girl was crowned as Harvest Queen. Sumandak was careful to decline taking part in the contest.
She told Xi Feng, “Huminodun is believed to visit her people every year during the Kaamatan. It is said that during the first festival, Kinoingan longed to see his child, so he started playing his bamboo flute, to his astonishment; she appeared out of the Tangkob. So the beauty queen symbolises her return…”
She had barely said those words when her eyes went blank and she crumpled to the floor again. Xi Feng managed to catch her but she was shaking so much that he had difficulty holding her. Everyone stopped in their tracks and stared in consternation. Her cousins rushed to her side and with their help, Xi Feng carried her back to her grandmother’s place. The Bobohizan was in meditation but she got up immediately to tend to her granddaughter. She could not hide her concern and directed them to place her on her bed—a mattress laid on a mat on the wooden floor. The Bobohizan rubbed her hands and chanted softly to her. Xi Feng sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. Her brothers sat next to him. He was a rationalist and this was something beyond his wildest experience.
The chanting seemed to soothe Sumandak and she stopped shaking. Instead her eyes suddenly opened and she started speaking in a strange language. Xi Feng experienced that chill of fear running down his spine, it was the same parched voice but more distinct now. But he couldn’t understand a word of what she was uttering. He looked at the Bobohizan and saw her face was transfixed with shock and horror and oddly enough something else… what was it? Disbelief?
He asked her, “Tok Bobohizan, do you understand what she is saying?”
She replied, “She is speaking the old language of our people. I don’t know how that is possible; she left us when she was eight and she did not have time to learn the language… only a Bobohizan with many years of training can speak like that…”
He remained silent. He had read of course that in cases of possession, those affected spoke archaic or foreign languages; it was possible that Sumandak absorbed more than her grandmother realised as a child. He stayed for over an hour and when Sumandak finally closed her eyes and fell asleep in what seemed like exhaustion, he decided to take his leave and return to his own quarters. It was past midnight and he was exhausted too. He hoped he might get some sleep.
The next morning, he had to take breakfast on his own. One of her cousins told him that Sumandak was too ill to get up. He got up and walked into the padi fields which was being harvested in earnest, now that the vital first day of rituals was over. Xi Feng had brought his zip lock bags with him. He picked the stray grains of rice which had scattered loose during the harvest as he could and carefully placed them in a three different bags—just in case one was contaminated. He collected as many as he could, until all the bag was half full and then sealed it. They would have to be stored in a freezer when he got home…
The day wore on and he realised how much he missed her. How was he going to continue what he was doing without her? He pushed himself to continue with his seed and plant collection, taking brief trips into the forest, now in the company of her two young cousins who were surprisingly knowledgeable.
After dinner he visited Sumandak. He was relieved that she recognised him and was able to respond to his jokes even. But in the middle of it, her eyes glazed and she started speaking in that strange tongue… she sounded as if she was pleading with someone and then started to weep. This time, he watched the Bobohizan more critically. She was listening closely, trying to catch every word her granddaughter was uttering. Why did he find her behaviour disturbing?
Sumandak suddenly leapt to her feet and ran out of the room. Then she ran out of the house—Xi Feng and the Bobohizan watched in horror, expecting her to come crashing to the ground as the house was built high above the ground on stilts but she continued running on thin air. He did not know if he feared that more than her falling. He raced down the stairs himself and ran after her. She had slowed down and he tried to reach out to her, his heart racing with terror. He tried to pull her down… she continued walking with measured steps in the air now. They were entering the rice fields—now with half the fields filled with stubbles. Somehow he knew what was coming, she would collapse and he would have to catch her. But when she fell, the impact made him fall as well. Her cousins soon caught up with them and helped him to take her home.
The next day, he waited for the Bobohizan outside her house. When she finally descended, he asked her, “Tok, how is Sumandak? Is there any sign that she will be better?”
“She will get better with time,” she answered resignedly.
“But you can cure her, right? You are a Bobohizan, able to cross into the spirit world… to send the spirit back where it came from?” he insisted.
“I have tried my best but I’m unable to exorcise the spirit… it is too strong, even for me,” she added with a trace of regret.
He looked her in the eye and said, “Perhaps you are not trying hard enough, Tok. I may spend most of my time studying expressionless plants but I can sometimes read people too. You know something that you are not telling me.”
She drew herself up and said, “Are you saying that I’m lying, young man? Why would I not help her? Sumandak is my granddaughter, who could be more important to me than her?”
He replied, “That’s what I asked myself. Who could be more important to you than your own granddaughter, Tok? Who? You recognise this spirit! I saw it on your face… and I know that once you can name the spirit, you can exorcise it…”
“How dare you accuse me of such a thing? You are asking too much of me, young man!” but the expression on the Bobohizan’s face was that of pain and sorrow rather than fear.
He replied, “We need Sumandak whole and well. She is alive and I believe the living has precedence over the dead… please help her, Tok.”
She was resigned. “You are right of course. Come then. We must invite the few other women who are willing to help me.”
That evening, when the women were gathered in a circle around Sumandak. Xi Feng entered the room as well but he sat cross legged on the floor, apart from them. He sensed something different in the room, the air was heavier and noticeably colder…The Bobohizan lighted some incense and threw herbs into the fire. Finally she confessed to them, “I failed my granddaughter. I allowed the possession to take hold for too long… but when I realised that it was the spirit of Huminodun herself, how could I exorcise her? For a Bobohizan, she is our goddess, the reason why we do what we do.”
Sumandak suddenly opened her eyes and started screaming. This time, even Xi Feng understood her. “No! It will be death for me again. I gave up my life for my people and yet my people are forgetting me. For a spirit to be forgotten… it is the ultimate death…”
But the women held her down, while the Bobohizan continued with her incantations. Sumandak screamed and thrashed. Her voice was parched and cracked now and Xi Feng saw something which made his hair stand on end. Her ashen face seemed to morph into another—younger but gaunt with hunger. The soft brown eyes he loved so much was dark with pain and fear…
The struggle took several hours but finally the dry cracked voice of the spirit was gone. Sumandak emerged and spoke to them with her true voice, “Tok, it’s me, Sumandak.”
She turned towards Xi Feng and looked into his eyes. Her eyes were circled by dark shadows, her hair was matted and damp with sweat and her face was drawn and haggard but Xi Feng had no doubt that it was her. He edged closer to her, reached out and held her hand; she squeezed his hand, smiled and then laid her head on her pillow and drifted into a deep sleep. That night they all decided to stay by her side the entire night, just to be sure. The Bobohizan continued with her gentle incantations while adding herbs into the lighted incense.
In a couple of days, Sumandak made a complete recovery and seemed to have forgotten everything that happened to her. They had a simple engagement ceremony, presided by the Bobohizan before driving back to the airport, in the Cruiser. He was in high spirits and felt as if an enormous weight had lifted off his shoulders. While driving, Sumandak looked into the rear view mirror and noted calmly the young girl huddled on the back seat…